#it is pretty fucked that they would essentially need to beg for the lives of how many people died in the calamity? 2/3 the population?

[dadrielle]

Part of the reason I am so jazzed about the conversation with the Arch Heart is because it has removed the illusion of this being an easy choice. As Orym said, and as he has been operating on the assumption of, the people of Exandria are like ants to something like Predathos, likely to be crushed underfoot. Correct, yeah. But the point of the Arch Heart's responses was that the same is true of the gods. The world is faced with a scenario where one way or another, some power is very likely going to be unleashed and put quite a lot of people in danger. Unless they can somehow very quickly quell the gods' fear*, either the gods or Predathos will be freed and stomping ants.

That refocuses the question. People are going to die. The question is, how long will the danger go on? And what kind of world will be left, after?

Juicy!

[fettuccin-e]

Flying to New Heights

Summary: A flight delay means you're spending your night at the hotel bar, praying for sleep to come to you. Instead, a certain Captain Francisco Morales shows up, tall and broad and far too tempting. With undeniable attraction burning between you, you can't help the way you fall right into his arms.

A/N: Alright! I know it's been a while, I'm sorry, I'm sorry. Life has gotten a tad crazy, but the Frankie thirst never stops okay? And this AU has been buzzing in my head for a little while now, so I just needed to get it out there. I hope y'all enjoy the porn. (dividers are by the lovely @saradika-graphics!)

Tags: Frankie Morales x Reader, Commercial Pilot!Frankie, Flight attendant!reader, afab!fem!reader, alcohol consumption but barely, this is essentially an excuse for porn so, oral and fingering(r!recieving), unprotected piv (pls wrap it up I'm begging you), Francisco Morales and his dirty mouth have struck again (w/c: 4.2K)

You love your job, you really do. Deciding to actually train to be a flight attendant was one of the best decisions of your life. Gone were the days of short-lived stints in retail, and you’ve never been happier for it.

You’ve lived the attendant life for a few years now, and you wouldn’t have it any other way. You’ve met some of your best friends through this job, seen some of the most beautiful places in the world, met celebrities on their way to new production locations and concert venues. 

It’s the dream, you tell your family, during the rare moments you actually get to visit them. And it is. The perks far outweigh the cons in your profession, and you’re happy to be where you are.

That’s not to say there aren’t any cons though.

There are always rude flyers, unruly children, issues with luggage. The turbulence is never much fun, nor are the months spent without being able to go home at all.

There are always nights like tonight, where the rain made the flight arrive later than expected, and you’ve got another flight scheduled for the morning. Between jetlag and the copious amounts of airline coffee you’ve imbibed to remain bright and chipper over an eight hour flight overseas, there’s no way you’ll get more than five hours of sleep before you have to clock in again.

A nightcap in the hotel bar seemed just the thing to cool off. You haven’t even taken your uniform off, the thick fabric stretching across your skin, your legs exposed to the cool air as you sip on your drink. The alcohol burns a bit in the back of your throat, but you take comfort in it, trying to lean into the calming warmth it creates in your stomach.

“Can’t sleep?”

The unexpected voice rips you from your reverie, and fuck, what a wake up call. The voice is deep, a pretty rasp edging into the ends of his words, the warmth of his tone making you far warmer than the alcohol in your glass ever could.

Captain Francisco Morales. Even his name has heat swimming in your stomach, and you wish you had just gone to bed like a normal person instead of drinking at the hotel bar at midnight. 

You can’t decide if the pilot is a perk or a con of the job, only knowing that he seems to pilot most of your flights, and is a fucking distraction during every single one of them. With his big broad shoulders and patchy beard, the crinkles around his eyes when he smiles and his insistence that you call him Frankie, not Captain Morales. 

The whole “flight attendants fucking pilots” trope never really applied to you until you met Frankie. You’ve made it a point not to hit on him, no matter how much you desperately want to. It would be far too stereotypical, and with how fucking nice Frankie is, you’d feel like you’d be taking advantage of him. So you’ve kept your distance, talking to him kindly, trying to cross your legs discreetly when he flexes his damn hands on the plane controls, and doing your job like a normal person.

But as he crosses into your line of vision, sitting in the barstool directly next to you, you’re struck with the realization that you’re in unknown territory. There’s no distracting yourself here with other passengers, or your fellow flight attendants. You can’t excuse yourself to an airplane bathroom to splash cold water on your face and yell at yourself to get it together. No, Frankie is right in front of you, ordering a whiskey neat from the bored-looking bartender, and smiling at you so fucking prettily with those big brown eyes and big hands and oh god you’re not going to survive-

“Nah, the jet-lag is really getting to me this time,” you say casually, your voice working on its own accord. At least you aren’t staring at him dopily like some kind of imbecile.

He chuckles. “Same here. Flight go okay?”

“You got us here, didn’t you, Captain? I’d say that’s a success.”

“Then let’s hope I’m always successful,” he winks, and it takes effort to breathe normally. You giggle, and he smiles at you again, his eyes crinkling up.

“You have a flight tomorrow?” he asks, sipping at his drink. 

“Yeah, unfortunately," you sigh. "10:00AM, which is making the whole ‘no sleeping thing’ even worse. Y’know, it’s really the airline’s fault if I collapse on a passenger." You grin at him, and he laughs.

“Oh, they should be so lucky,” he chuckles, and you could swear that you see just a flicker of heat in his eyes. A heat that turns into a raging inferno inside of you, spreading from your cheeks to the tips of your toes. 

“How about you, Captain? Flying again tomorrow?” You need to keep your mind out of the fucking gutter, not that he makes it very easy.

“Yup. They’ve got me in the air at 8:00AM.”

“Oh man, and you’re listening to me complain about my 10:00AM?”

“Work is work, sweetheart,” he smiles at you, and you want to collapse into him at that very moment. Sweetheart. Coming from anyone else, it would sound smarmy, like a pick up line, but from Frankie, it just sounds warm and comforting. You want to be his sweetheart. “We’re all allowed to complain. We aren’t in any kind of competition.”

He sips his whiskey, his eyes feeling like they’re boring into your fucking soul. “And either way, we’re both in the same bar, at midnight, sleep nowhere in sight. We’re pretty much in the same boat.”

“If you say so, Captain,” you say, your body positively burning under his gaze. You hope that you can blame it on the alcohol.

He raises an eyebrow, “I thought I told you to call me Frankie, sweetheart.”

“Frankie, sorry.”

“No need to be sorry,” he says, taking another sip. You try to not watch his throat work as he swallows. You fail. “Think you just need more practice,” he mumbles into his drink, so soft you almost miss it.

“Practice?” you blurt, mind too distracted to think of an intelligent response.

“Practice saying my name.”

A laugh startles out of your mouth. “I have no idea how I’d practice that, Frankie.”

He hums, pretending to think. “I have a few ideas,” he murmurs, and fuck, you definitely aren’t imagining the heat in his eyes now. It’s blazing into you, and you have to press your thighs together to alleviate the ache between them, hoping that Frankie doesn’t notice. Or maybe you hope he does, as you watch those thick fingers wrap around his glass.

Fuck it. He’s hot, you’re horny, and God, you can’t take much more of this. “I’d love to hear all about them, Frankie,” you say, adding a little rasp to your voice that you hope sounds sexy.

Frankie chuckles, but it doesn’t sound like he’s making fun of you. No, he sounds surprised, like he can’t believe you’re flirting back at him. Confidence swims in your chest as red colors his cheeks. You gaze up into those warm, brown eyes of his, and fuck, he’s so pretty up close like this.

“You sure about that, hermosa?”

You don’t break eye contact with him, and his deep gaze burns into yours. “Positive,” you breathe, and Frankie’s smirk is absolutely devastating.

Captain Francisco Morales doesn’t do this often. No, he doesn’t do this ever. Fucking between flights is supposed to be a perk of being a pilot, but it’s a “perk” he rarely utilizes. One night stands have never really suited him; he gets attached far too easily, and with his job, he can never stick around for long.

But god you’re pretty. And you’re licking hotly into his mouth, and whining in the back of your throat like you’re fucking desperate for it.

He couldn’t help himself when he saw you, still in your little uniform skirt, nursing a drink at the hotel bar. He couldn’t help himself when he struck up a conversation with you, wanting to see your pretty smile and soft laugh that he only ever hears mid-flight. And damn it, he sure as hell can’t help himself from pressing you up against the wall of the hotel elevator, pressing one of his thighs between yours while your fingers curl into his hair and his arms wrap around your waist.

You wiggle down onto his thick thigh, and it creates the most perfect pressure on your clit. You whimper against Frankie’s mouth, and he groans with you, pulling you flush against him.

“Fuck,” he breathes, and his voice is deep and gravelly, breathless from your fevered kisses. “I, uh, I don’t usually do this kind of thing.” His cheeks burn, but he doesn’t back away, just leans his forehead against yours and tries to catch his breath.

It isn’t a surprise, his confession. You’ve heard stories about every other pilot, about their conquests with flight attendants, or how someone saw one of them take their wedding band off when they got to their hotel. There are stories upon stories about every pilot you’ve flown with, except Frankie. And it’s intoxicating, knowing that he wants you enough to have you like this. 

“Good. Me neither,” you whisper, and Frankie grins again. That boyish, devastating grin, and fuck, your clit is throbbing so hard that you could cum like this. You could cum, right in this elevator, Frankie’s thigh between yours and his tongue in your mouth, fuck-

The elevator dings, signaling your arrival to your floor, and Frankie jumps away from you as the doors slide open. You don’t take it personally, not when you’re instinctually tugging your rumpled skirt down. You glance up, and Frankie is already staring down at you, gaze blazing as he braces a hand against the elevator door, holding it open for you. 

“Where’s your room?” he asks, and the question is casual, but his voice certainly isn’t. There’s promise in it, and you have to make sure your knees don’t buckle. 

“Why don’t I show you?” you say, stepping toward him to press your bodies together. Frankie doesn’t answer, he only cups a hand under your jaw, dragging your face up for a sticky kiss. It’s so much better than a yes.

He breaks the kiss far too soon, but one of his hands makes its way down to your ass, squeezing the fat of it through your skirt. “Lead the way, princesa,” he grumbles, and how could you ever think to refuse him?

Maybe you’re a little too eager in your walk to your room, but Frankie doesn’t seem to fare much better. No, he’s just as desperate as you are, with the way he presses you against the door of your room the moment you close it. With the way he swiftly kisses down your neck, sucking your skin between his teeth as he unbuttons your blazer, shoving the fabric down your arms. The buttons of your white undershirt follow, and you keen as he sucks maddeningly at your pulse point, his mustache scratching at the sensitive skin of your neck.

As soon as you’re divested of your shirt, Frankie’s moving again, kissing his way down your chest. He drags his teeth against the soft skin of your breasts, and you dig your hands into his hair. 

“Fuck, baby, you’ve got the prettiest tits,” he murmurs against your skin. It doesn’t sound like a line, no, it sounds like a prayer. 

“Frankie, please,” you breathe.

He looks up at you from his position at your chest. “What, gorgeous?” he asks, coy, as if he doesn’t know what you want. What you desperately need. 

“Please, just,” you use your grip in his hair to drag him back up to your mouth, and he goes willingly, groaning softly as his tongue meets yours again. “Please fuck me, Frankie,” you whisper, and Frankie groans like he’s dying.

“Take- take your clothes off, baby,” he mutters, and it sounds more like he’s begging than he’s commanding. “Take your clothes off, and get on the bed.”

He doesn’t have to tell you twice.

You have to make sure you don’t trip on your way to the bed as you kick off your heels. You tug your skirt and nylons down your thighs, making sure to wiggle your ass a bit more than normal as you bend over to tug them the rest of the way down your legs. You smirk at Frankie’s soft groan behind you.

The air of the hotel room is slightly cold, but as soon as you kneel on the bed, arching your back in a shameless display of your desperation, Frankie is burning hot above you, and you can’t feel the cold at all. Frankie’s thick, calloused hands palm your ass, and you moan as he spreads you apart, staring unabashedly at your aching cunt.

“Can I eat your pussy, baby?” he grumbles from behind you, and the fact that he’s asking permission to eat you out is making you so much hotter, making you clench around nothing. 

“Yes, yes, Frankie, oh please-” you whine, and Frankie barely lets you finish your sentence before he’s dragging his tongue in a long stripe up your dripping pussy. “Fuck, Frankie,” you groan, and he moans into you, sounding like he’s enjoying eating you out just as much as you are. 

His nose drags maddeningly through your folds as he brings his lips down to your clit, sucking it into his mouth and swirling his tongue around it in circles that send pure pleasure sparking endlessly up your spine. You arch your back into it, pressing yourself into his mouth, and Frankie groans again. The vibrations of it against your clit make you jerk wildly, whining high as you clutch desperate fingers into the pristine white sheets of the bed.

Frankie tries to keep you still with one of his big hands pressing into the small of your back. His other hand makes its way to your pussy, and you don’t even realize, not when he’s licking into you so feverishly, until there’s a thick finger pressing into your achy entrance.

“Frankie, oh my god-” you gasp wetly, his finger so much thicker than one of your own. It’s been so long, too long, since you’ve had the touch of anything other than yourself. Your tiny, traveling bullet vibrator doesn’t feel like this. You can’t stretch yourself like this, you can’t drive yourself wild like he can.

He moves his finger around inside you, searching, searching, while he licks softly at your clit. “Where is it, baby?” he mutters against you, and you have to force your brain to work at least a little bit to decipher whatever the fuck he means.

His finger is still searching, stroking against your slick inner walls, and you can barely gasp out a, “up, up,” before he’s finally touching that sweet spot deep inside you. You can’t hide it when he does, gasping out a high pitched moan as pleasure rockets up your body.

“There it is, sweetheart,” he says, “good girl.”

And fuck, how do you hold yourself together when he says things like that. He licks again at your clit, but plays with that spongy spot inside you, abusing it. You’re so slick and hot, it doesn’t take long before he’s pressing a second finger into you, then a third. And his fingers are so fucking thick, breaking you apart and pressing into that wonderful spot inside you. Your vision is blurring at the edges as he plays with you like a practiced instrument. How is he so good at this? Your body barely feels like it’s your own, just Frankie’s; his to play with, his to fuck. God, he’s ruining you. It’s never been this good.

“Frankie, Frankie-” you whimper his name like a prayer, and his fingers move fast into you, jackhammering you into the mattress. You whine as he breaks his mouth from your clit, but he keeps his fingers pressed deep inside of you as he leans over your trembling body. 

“C’mon baby, c’mon baby,” he mutters, moving his fingers inside you so roughly that you could swear he’s trying to break you in two. “What do you need, sweetheart? What do you need to cum all over my fingers, huh?”

“Just keep-” you gasp between shuddering moans. “Just keep talking to me, fuck, please-”

“Talk about what, gorgeous? Talk about how hard I am for you right now? How hard you always make me?” You whine at his words, and you can feel his smirk against the skin of your shoulder. His fingers move into you even harder, if that’s even possible. “Fuck, princesa, you have to know how fucking sexy you are. Make me so fucking hard whenever we fly together. Fuck, watched you bend over to pick up your bag once, right in front of me. Had to fuckin’ jerk my cock as soon as we got back to the hotel. Can’t help it around you baby.”

You feel like you’re underwater. Frankie’s voice is deep and dark in your ear, and your pussy is so fucking sensitive. You can feel your orgasm burning relentlessly in your stomach. Just a little more, just a little-

“Thought about taking you to the back of the plane, mid flight. Thought about fucking you hard, stuffing this pretty pussy, making you go back out to work with my cum dripping down your thighs. You want that, sweet girl? Fuck you’re so pretty, so pretty baby, you’ve gotta cum. Please, please let me fuck this pussy. Be my good girl, cum all over my hand.”

You don’t think he means it like a command, but you follow it anyway. You moan, throaty and wet, into the sheets as your cunt clenches around Frankie’s fingers, hips twitching as he presses reassuring kisses to your shoulder. You turn your head blindly, and he leans forward to meet your lips in a bruising kiss, his fingers buried deep inside as you gush all over his hand.

“Fuck me, fuck me, fuck me,” you whisper against his lips, repeating it like a mantra, and Frankie whimpers, needy and so hot that it makes you want to cry.

“Okay, baby, okay, I’ve got you,” he says, and you know he does. 

When Frankie presses the blunt tip of his cock against the opening of your sensitive pussy, you both groan. You push your hips back just as he pushes his hips forward, and the tip of his cock is just as big as the rest of him. Which, of course, means fucking massive. You have to breathe through the stretch of him inside you as he sinks deep, deeper, deeper. 

“Doing so fucking good, sweetheart. Jesus fuck- ah- so fucking tight baby- fucking beautiful- oh fuck-” Frankie mutters, sounding just as overwhelmed as you feel. It feels like forever until he bottoms out, his hips pressed against your ass as he hunches over you, hot and big and all man. It’s a dream that you’ve had before, but the reality is so much better than anything you could have ever imagined.

“So- you’re so big, Frankie,” you whimper, and Frankie groans behind you. “Need you to fuck me, wanna feel it tomorrow, please, please-” and he does. He pulls his hips back, just to shove himself back in, and the drag of his fat cock against that spot he found earlier has tears springing unbidden to your eyes. 

“Yes! Oh my god, like that, just like that-” you’ve never talked this much before during sex. But his unyielding thrusts, deep, deep inside, have you babbling wildly.

“Christ, you can’t talk like that, princesa, gonna make me blow my fucking load-”

“Want it, fuck Frankie, want you dripping down my fucking thighs, wanna gape open after you fuck me, oh god-”

Frankie fucks in harder, and it’s like every thought you’ve ever had flies out of you. His chest and stomach press into your back as he holds you still, thrusting desperately into you, harder and harder.

The bed is creaking, a rhythmic squeak that mixes in with the endless sounds of your keening whines and Frankie’s moans, and the obscene squelching of your pussy around Frankie’s cock. Your wetness drips down your thighs as Frankie bullies his way inside. He’s hitting that beautiful spot inside you, so perfectly, so overwhelmingly perfect, and fuck, tears are dripping down your face as you clutch onto a pillow, only able to squeak out pitiful whines of “Frankie, Frankie,” as he destroys you.

“So fucking gorgeous for me, god, bebita, fuckin’- fucking tight, fucking strangling me. Been too long, honey? Too long since you got fucked like you deserve?” Frankie growls into your ear, fucking you like a god damn animal.

Frankie’s lost control above you, which he just doesn’t do. He’s always in control, always, he has to be in this profession. But it’s like you’ve stripped him bare, literally and figuratively, to the most primal parts of himself. You’re so fucking hot and wet and tight around him, whining and throwing yourself back on his cock like it’s the best you’ve ever had, and he’s losing it. Losing it far too quickly, and he’s going to cum far too quickly.

“C’mon, baby, give me another one,” he groans, “squeeze my cock with this perfect fuckin’ pussy, wanna, wanna feel it.”

“Touch my clit- oh please, please, Frankie, ah- ah” and he does, the moment the words leave your lips. He reaches underneath the both of you, not breaking the rhythm of his hips driving into yours, and rubs two of those thick, calloused fingers against your throbbing clit.

“Fuck- yes, just like that, just like that, oh my god.” You’re slurring your words, so stupidly drunk on the feeling of his cock filling you over and over, of his body radiating heat above you.

“Gonna take care of you hermosa, make you cum like you deserve, so fuckin’ beautiful crying on my cock,” Frankie says, rubbing your clit hard and methodical. “Never gonna get enough of you baby. Gonna fuck you in every hotel we ever get, fuck you at the terminal, fuck this pussy in the god damn cockpit, oh shit-”

And you’re screaming, outright screaming into the sheets as the thread in your stomach snaps, your pussy clenching and gushing all over Frankie’s giant cock. He’s still mumbling into the cook of your neck, mindless mumbles about how pretty you are, how perfect, as you tremble through the most powerful orgasm of your fucking life. It’s devastating, it breaks you apart and puts you back together all at once, and you just have to trust Frankie to hold you together in his strong arms.

“Where do you want it, huh baby? Please, please, you’ve gotta tell me, oh shit-” Frankie whimpers, and it’s a damned good thing you still have enough brain cells to understand what he means.

“Inside, inside, 'm on the pill, please, please fill me up.” It’s fucking risky that you both didn’t even think about a condom, but with a man like Frankie, it’s hard to think about anything.

His hips still, his cock pressed inside so deep that it feels like he could be in your lungs, as he fills your pussy with his cum. He bites harshly into your shoulder, but it doesn’t fully muffle his whimpers as he crashes through his orgasm. Your eyes flutter shut. You wish you could bottle those sounds and listen to them forever.

Your knees slide out from under you, leaving you laying flat on your stomach, and Frankie follows, holding himself against you as you wait for your breathing to slow. 

“That was…” you whisper into the quiet.

“Fucking amazing.”

You can’t suppress your giggle. “Took the words right out of my mouth, Frankie.”

He tucks his face into the crook of your shoulder, and you can feel his pretty smile, before he’s lifting himself off of you, and you realize how cold you are without his heat.

“I’ll be right back, okay?” he says, and you can’t bring yourself to do anything more than nod. Frankie rushes quickly into the en suite bathroom, and you can hear the sink running for a moment, before he comes back. A warm, wet rag makes its way down your back, over the curve of your ass, and between your legs. He’s ridiculously gentle as he wipes you down, and it’s wonderful. 

Once Frankie deems you clean again, he climbs into bed next to you. He wraps his arms around your placid body, tugging you close. “Didn’t take you for a cuddler, Frankie,” you murmur, but you only snuggle closer, relishing in his deep chuckle.

“I’m usually not.”

“You don’t do this often, though?” you say, dragging a finger down his chest, your eyes already fluttering shut.

You feel Frankie’s lips press to your forehead as he murmurs, “I think I’m willing to let this,” he hugs you against him softly, “become a new habit.”

You smile, and you lean up to kiss him gently. “I wouldn’t mind that at all.”

[spatialwave]

𝐝𝐚𝐳𝐞𝐝 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐜𝐨𝐧𝐟𝐮𝐬𝐞𝐝. 𝐜𝐡𝐚𝐩𝐭𝐞𝐫 𝐨𝐧𝐞.

“𝐀𝐈𝐑 𝐑𝐀𝐈𝐃”

pairing: angus tully x fem!reader word count: 8.9k summary: school is out and you’re looking to make the best out of your time while stuck in a small town. with summer in the air, you find yourself wrapped in a whirlwind of a day full of rookie hazing, warm beer and a budding romance with a certain football quarterback. warnings: underage drug use, bullying, name-calling, cheating. notes: not beta'd, so bare with me on any grammatical errors. also apologies for the wall of text LOL.

(a03 vers)

chapter two. ->

Moving to a small Texan town during Christmas of 1975 was far from ideal, especially as a high school junior. You’d left so much behind in California, your best friends, your boyfriend (who broke up with you because of the distance) and your part-time job as a beach lifeguard on the weekends. Maybe it was shallow, but you had the perfect life! A life that every girl your age dreamed of because you got away with whatever you wanted.

You weren’t queen bee, but you were well-liked and adored by many at your previous school, and being a popular girl at a large Californian high school was basically like being the Queen of England.

Your royal kingdom came crumbling down the day your parents, the banes of your existence, decided to move out to the Texan town where your mother was born and raised–before she escaped to the beautiful West Coast. You’d only been there twice in your life to visit your grandparents, but after your grandfather passed and left your grandmother to live the rest of her days alone… well, your parents couldn’t let her go off to a retirement home all by her lonesome.

They were too compassionate to let that happen.

Your father, a pediatrician, was happily welcomed into the small town where the number of citizens far outweighed the amount of healthcare workers. Your mother, a stay-at-home wife, took care of your grandmother during the days, kept the house clean from top-to-bottom and fed every mouth that came in the door. 

There was very little you could complain about because you had all the essentials that every human needs—a roof over your head, food and clothes—and although you missed indulging in what the gorgeous city of Santa Barbara had to offer, you were far from a pouty and ungrateful person. You were a teenage girl, full of emotions and dramatics, so that’s why you spent a lot of your time complaining about it. It was valid to miss the lifestyle you had gotten used to and the worst part was that it took you at least two weeks to get over your lousy boyfriend who told you that it would take too much effort calling you and sending letters. 

Goodbye, loser!

On your first day at Lee High School, you had so many unknown eyes on you that you were beginning to think that your days of being atop the social ladder were gone, leaving you at the bottom begging for scraps just to get up a peg. You were met with the opposite—a pretty girl from California like you turned heads for all the right reasons, and you found yourself being swarmed by peers wanting to get to know you. Particularly by two girls in your year, Kaye and Shavonne, who you’d clicked with like Dorothy’s heels on The Wizard of Oz. 

So long to your Californian friends, and hello to your new Texan best friends, who were nothing short of young partiers who favoured cigarettes, beers and driving around late at night because there was fuck-all to do. They were the two realest girls you ever met.

It was an abrupt change of lifestyle, and while it was nerve-wracking at first, you’d welcomed it because you could focus less on how others perceived you and more on enjoying the good times. You learned to enjoy the taste of cheap beer, how to hustle people while playing pool, and the best places to park your car for a well-hidden make out session. By May, you’d smoked enough reefer that you could indulge in a couple of joints without spending the entirety of your evening with a bucket and your friends holding back your hair while they try to stifle laughs.

The only downside to the move? Two girls who you could never tell if they hated you, liked you or were jealous of you—Elise Crane and Darla Marks. Elise was a kind girl, at least on the surface, but Darla was a monster who wanted nothing more than to be envied by others. Shavonne was close with them, the type of girl to jump between the friend groups and report on each other. You came into the picture late, so you couldn’t complain about her two-sided nature to her face, but you did with Kaye.

You did your best to keep your lips tight on speaking badly around them when Shavonne was around, but calling Darla a bitch slipped the tongue once, and you could see the way your blonde friend’s eyes sparkled. It was only time until Darla called you out about saying she was a bitch behind her back.

That was the supposed life of growing up in a small town, you couldn’t say a goddamned thing to even your closest friends without everyone knowing eventually. Gossiping was healthier than ever, and you found that out, especially when you told Shavonne you thought a boy was cute. 

Angus Tully. 

He was the dreamiest boy you’d ever seen, well, the dreamiest boy in Texas. He was tall and lanky, a bit lean under the clothes from what you’d seen, with wild brown curls that grew around his ears and brown eyes that you could spend hours getting lost in. It was so cliché, but he gave you butterflies, and you felt like the luckiest girl alive being in the same social circle as him.

Over a few weeks of admiring him from afar, you saw that he was one of the few genuinely nice boys at school, nicer than Jason Smith and hundreds of times nicer than Teddy Kountze. He was like an angel compared to them, a boy who was friends with anyone and everyone and the type to check on the younger freshman who’d get tossed around by the seniors on the regular. Though, that didn’t stop him from being a conniving little shit with his friends when provoked–you’d seen firsthand their bad habit of driving around knocking mailboxes over when they got bored.

It was the culmination of everything of Angus Tully that drew you in. His charm, his uncaring attitude, and the fact that he enjoyed flirting with you when the chance arose. 

Only issue? Elise Crane.

You knew nothing of their history as a ‘couple’, so you did your best to not let yourself get involved, or worse, between them. Shavonne, the gossip machine, told you everything you needed to know about their relationship—they were kind of together. You had no idea what that meant, but the fact that Angus had started spending more of his free time with you, you imagined that meant things were going south.

Elise Crane seemed so believably nice to you, but you couldn’t trust people who hung around Darla Marks. You sometimes kept Shavonne at arm’s length for that very reason. It didn’t take much to convince yourself to keep your nose out of other people’s business, especially when it revolved around teenage love—hell hath no fury like a jealous girlfriend.

Why did he have to be so cute, though?

You had been thinking this to yourself as you sat in class, mindlessly twirling a pencil in your fingers as you stared outside into the empty hallway. This was your second-last class, devastatingly close to freedom and the promised party at Pickford’s where you could get drunk, stoned and maybe find a boy to make out with. Maybe Benny—he was your usual go-to.

Normally, you were more active in conversation, but today you found yourself half-listening to everything happening around you. You’d heard Mike mention something about a pledge that the football players were asked to sign, though, you hadn’t really been paying much attention to what came with it. Pledge this, pledge that, you were hardly concerned with their issues.

As your eyes glazed over while you stared into the empty hall from your spot at the table, you saw two other football players, Jason and Benny, come to the doorway, beckoning Angus. Curious eyes watched as he got up from his seat and jogged out of class to go meet with them, and you perked up in your seat. 

A small smirk played on your lips as you sat in anticipation, juggling the idea in your head until you slipped out of your seat and disappeared out of the classroom, looking to your right and seeing the boys walking down the hall together. Benny swung the paddle around as if hitting invisible freshmen, the trio chuckling to each other about god knows what.

“Hey, boys, wait up!” You called, arms crossing over the striped-cropped shirt you wore. You gazed amongst the three boys, Benny, Angus and Jason—they always looked like they were up to no good. They usually weren’t.

Benny’s eyes fixated on you, a boy you’d gotten to know decently well, but not through conversation. Instead of fixing on him, your eyes settled nicely onto the brunette who stood between them.

Lips thinned into a small smile for a moment before speaking again, “Too good for class?” you asked, looking between the boys with slightly narrowed eyes.

“No,” Jason said, cocking an eyebrow at you before smiling and confessing, “Yes.”

“Where are you going?” You asked curiously, nodding your head at Angus for him to answer.

“What is this? Are you going to lecture us about skipping class? Didn't realize you were a self-appointed hall monitor.” He retorted with a teasing look in his eyes, hands shoved into the pockets of his blue jeans as he took a step backward with a coy shrug, “Benny wants to head to the middle school, you know, see how the soon-to-be-freshman are holding up and give them a little announcement.”

“Well, that’s exactly what I came for,” you said, turning to Benny, meeting his eyes and feeling so small under it. He was a little intimidating.

“Anything you need,” He grinned, looking down at you like a piece of meat as he continued to swing the paddle.

You sighed, tapping your hand against the wood a couple of times to get his attention, “Do me a favour and don’t go too hard on my brother this summer, alright?” You plead, “he’s still getting used to the place and this is all new to him. He’s probably scared out of his mind.”

Benny’s eyes grew big at your statement, and he laughed loudly at the mere mention of going easy on the kid, “Don’t worry, I’ll give him a beating he’ll never forget!” He laughed with a loud slap of his hand against the paddle, causing the boys to laugh at his childish antics and you to roll your eyes in disgust.

“Fine, just don’t give him any more than you would the other kids, okay? Promise me,” you look between the boys, who all nodded in agreement. 

“Sure,” Angus mused, tilting his head, “Your little brother will be okay, you got our word,” he reassured you, those brown eyes scanning over your body shamelessly and confidently. He always acted tougher around those boys.

You hadn’t believed a single word coming from any of them, but you still smiled up at Angus, because at least he was kind about it. Chewing on your bottom lip, you gave the boys a little nod before turning on your heel to head back to class—not before you felt a hard smack on your ass from the paddle.

“Ow—Benny!” You yelped loudly, jumping as you turned back to the three boys with an embarrassed smile on your lips, your hands rubbing over the stinging cheek that felt like fire under the fabric of your bell-bottoms.

“You liked it,” Benny said to you, offering a wink that made your stomach flip. You really needed to stop letting male attention get to you.

“Tell them to screw off!” Shavonne’s voice came from the classroom as her head peeked out of the door, her eyes landing on Jason before pulling away sharply. Your friend pulled you toward the girl’s bathroom before you could even say your goodbyes, meeting in the room to smoke a cigarette with Kaye and gossip before the next class. Though it wasn’t much gossiping, as Kaye decided to use the time to psychoanalyze Gilligan’s Island, and its link to the male gaze—she had some fair points, but Shavonne wasn’t convinced.

The final period of the day dragged on in History class, and you seated yourself at one of the desks near the back. Your head leaning back against the cool wall as you tried your best to relax, maybe even indulge in a nap to make time go by quicker. Although nearly successful, your attempts were cut short when you felt someone landing into the desk in front of you with a loud huff. Opening your eyes, they landed on the individual you’d been daydreaming about all day—a toothy grin on his lips.

“What are you doing here?” You asked as you stretched your arms up and sighed, nestling back into the seat afterwards.

“Oh, you know, figured I’d make an appearance,” Angus said to you, leaning forward so he could cross his arms and lean over your desk, “Did you miss me?”

“Yeah, right,” you snorted a laugh, lifting a hand to tuck back some stray hairs that fell into your face as you sat forward. You mimicked his position, leaning forward on your desk and resting your chin on your arms. It left your faces only a few inches apart, “How’d it go with Benny and Jason? Did you boys manage to scare the freshman into fleeing the country?”

“Totally,” he snickered, lip twitching as he dropped his gaze briefly, eyes looking over your lips then back up, “What’s up with you and Benny? He’s been complaining about you not wanting to see him lately, it’s all he talks about. It’s annoying.”

“Wow, that is totally none of your business,” you laughed through your breath and a flicker of amusement in your eyes, “Does this mean I allowed to ask what’s up with you and Elise?”

“Mm, touché,” Angus murmured, moving to sit up straight again, though his gaze not once wavering as he leaned against the metal bar behind him that connected the seat to the desk, “Do you actually care?”

“I’m allowed to be curious. It hasn’t killed me yet,” you remained in your position, eyes fluttering up to look the boy over, noticing the way his hair looked a little more unruly than most days. It was cute.

Angus chuckled, looking down at his hands for a moment, fidgeting with them as you saw him thinking over his next sentence carefully, avoiding word vomit. It was a tough topic, you figured that as much because if everything were fine then it would be an easy response. The truth can always be found in the reactions of others, a joyous day for a perceptive girl.

Those doe brown eyes met your gaze, “Things are… they’re okay.”

Your eyes soften in concern, “Just okay?”

“Let it go, alright? I’m trying to have a good last class of junior year,” he smiled at you, avoiding the topic as he bravely let one of his hands rest over your desk, so his fingers could play with the thin bracelet around your wrist, “Spending it with you makes it a pretty good last class.” He mused quietly, his voice a bit awkward.

Why did he always have to say shit like that? Shit that made you want to giggle and twirl your hair around your finger so you could appease him into saying more. 

You hadn’t known Angus Tully for very long, but you often wondered where on earth his charisma had come from. He reminded you of a boy who would have a hard time talking to women, much like his friends Mike and Tony, yet here he was making your cheeks hurt with how much he made you smile. You chalked it up to him being a football player, even back in California you knew that any boy on the team was seen as the ‘Gods’ of school and their ego always got to their head—much like with you.

Cheeks shone crimson, and you attempted to remain chill, which wasn’t very chill at all. “Come on, Tully,” you chuckled nervously, “save that energy for graduation next year. No need to get sappy on me this early.”

That smile of his grew wider, his fingers not once pulling away from you as they continued to fiddle with the dainty chain, “What? You don’t like it?” He teased, knowing very well the reaction he was getting out of you. 

“You’re so annoying, I hope you know that.” You beamed, the look on your face showcasing anything but annoyance.

The two of you were lucky that everyone else in the class was so preoccupied with themselves. If you kept this up, Elise would be waiting for you outside the classroom door with her fists balled up and ready to pick a fight. It was laughable imagery, neither you nor Elise would ever make for a good visual fight. One slap, and you’d both be crying back to your friends for soothing comfort.

“Did Benny get you this bracelet?” Angus’ lips curled at the corners, and you yanked your hand away with an irritated scoff, earning a proud laugh from the quarterback.

“What’s your obsession with Benny? If you’re jealous, that’s all you have to say,” You prodded in return, feeling your stomach do flips as you ventured into questionably flirtatious territory. The question caused Angus to crinkle his nose, not answering you. “What if he did get it for me?” You furthered, knowing very well the truth behind the jewellery—a gift from your Auntie on your sixteenth birthday. 

Angus took another look at the bracelet, getting a good eye over it and causing you to shift uncomfortably in your seat. He took a few seconds to really admire it, looking over the multicoloured gems that tied into the golden chain, his thumb running along it and subsequently against your skin.

As you sat there, eyes fixated on the curly-haired boy, you delved deep into your mind and wondered what life would be like if you were able to call Angus your boyfriend. You knew of his sincere kindness toward his peers and inclination to stick it to the man, but was he a good partner? Would he be the type of boy to remember the date of when you started dating, or would he compliment you on your beauty when you’ve just woken up, hair wild and eyes small and tired? There was so much of him that you didn’t know, and you were desperate to figure it all out.

It made you wonder how on earth Elise didn’t appreciate him with all of her heart and soul. You would give anything to get a chance for it. A hopeless romantic, through and through.

“Benny couldn’t pull off this type of romance,” his voice pulled you back down from the clouds you had been dreaming in, calling you out on your bluff, “But let’s say he did… I want you to know that I could buy you a better one than this,” he replied with a self-satisfied look on his face, and like it was timed perfectly, the bell rang loudly in your ears as you stared at Angus with wide eyes and parted lips, breath caught in your throat, “Catch you later.”

You were the last student to leave the classroom, frozen in place out of pure shock over Angus’ words that flooded you with mixed signals. Flushed cheeks and a rapid heartbeat were a common occurrence when he was around, but things were different these past few weeks. The two of you had been finding yourself hanging out together more than usual, whether it was driving around or grabbing a bit to eat at Top Notch, you’d been freeing up a lot more evenings for him. There was an unspoken agreement to keep these meet-ups tight-lipped, considering you both wanted to keep your heads.

It was easy to get lost in the mixed signals that he threw at you, but you could almost swear that Angus had started behaving differently around you lately, less like just a friend. He acted similarly in which you act around boys that you crushed on, a bit flustered and awkward. You wanted so badly to call him out on it, but your guilt over hurting Elise won each time.

The last thing you needed before summer break was to read into it the wrong way and be pulled into that shit-show, so you shoved those thoughts deep from the gutters of your mind and hurried off—there were freshmen to haze, after all.

With Kaye driving the truck, you sat in the middle with Shavonne to your right. You’d just finished pulling off your top to replace it with the white jersey that displayed ‘SENIOR’ in big letters over the chest and ‘77 on the back. You thought it was corny, but you knew you’d be tucking it away in your drawer after the day’s end and keeping it as a memory to look back on fondly. Not too fondly, though, these were not going to be the best years you’ve ever lived.

“What’s up with you and Benny these days?” Shavonne questioned, smoking a cigarette with her window rolled down, flicking the ash as she turned to you.

“God, why does everyone keep asking me that?” You grumbled as you put your striped shirt down on the seat between you and Kaye, sitting forward so you could adjust the jersey over your body and tuck it into the high-waisted jean shorts you’d changed into.

“Everyone?” Kaye laughed, “You’re telling me there’s something else other than us who cares about you and Benny’s biweekly hook-ups? I have a hard time believing that.” She always thought your ‘relationship’ with Benny was laughable, naming him one of the biggest jerks of school. You wholeheartedly agreed that he was an asshole through and through, but he was at least kind to you—and you were both young and hormonal. It was basic math.

“Who is it?” Shavonne’s eyes lit up, once against seeing the gears turning in her head—your beloved friend, the rumour mill.

“Don’t you dare tell anyone,” you warned, “Angus was pestering me about it,” you shrugged as you stole the cigarette from where it rested snugly between two of her fingers. Taking a long drag, you exhaled, “Not sure why.”

“Don’t play dumb, you know exactly why,” Shavonne quipped in return, stealing back the half-smoked cigarette and holding it in her hand away from you.

“How does it feel to be so loved by the male gaze?” Kaye teased you, her eyes focusing ahead as the middle school came into view, “every boy wants you, and you keep egging them all on.”

“Firstly, I am not egging anyone on. Secondly, if you are trying to insinuate that something is going on between Angus and me, then you’re dead wrong,” you mumbled, lips twitching as you reached your hand forward and lowered the volume of the radio that had been blaring the Rolling Stones.

“All I’m saying is that I’ve known him for a lot longer than you have, alright?” Shavonne said as she flickered the cigarette out of the window, watching as it landed on the pavement, “Trust me when I say that boy likes you, I’ve never seen him so attached to anyone and that’s including Elise. I’m your friend,” she put a hand on your shoulder, “Why would I lie to you?”

Your eyes landed on Shavonne, quirking a humoured eyebrow, “Because you like getting reactions out of people.”

“You know me well,” she laughed, shoving you playfully as you pulled into the middle school parking lot, where you could see the other senior girls parked with their trucks and already wrangling girls in.

Most of the freshman girls stood by the fence, anxiously waiting to be picked one-by-one for the hazing rituals. Meanwhile, the freshman boys were running away from the school like it had been infested by the plague, nothing but fear in their eyes as they prayed for their asses to remain safe from the wrath of a senior with a paddle. You swore you could hear Teddy Kountze’s laugh from here, the poor bastard who flunked senior year and was back to paddle for another year. Embarrassing.

You then thought back to the promise Angus made with you and hoped that your brother had made it home safely.

Kaye parked the truck along the fence, and you followed the girls out, finding solace under the warm summer sun that was able to distract you from the craziness that was your mind. Focusing on the present, you reminded yourself to breathe slowly and evenly as you felt yourself falling out of place very quickly.

These rituals were new to you, you’ve experienced bullying first hand, both against you and toward others, but this was unknown territory, and you worried that someone would take things too far. Could this be considering bullying, and why did teachers condone it? For crying out loud, you were right in the parking lot of the middle school, watching the teachers leave as kids scattered like it was their last day on earth.

You’d gone up to Darla, offering a fake-sincere greeting as she gave you a handful of soothers, a way to infantilize the girls and embarrass them.

But as much as you wanted to hate this entire thing, you found yourself getting a bit too invested as you walked up to the young teens, beckoning them to you and pushing the soothers between their lips. It was interesting, you could see how a few of the girls were almost waiting in excitement to be included, while others were hoping you’d skip over them and let them go home. You figured the ones who were excited were the girls that would be climbing the social ladders much faster than the rest, being a pushover for the seniors was a sure-fire way to succeed.

After successfully gathering three girls into the truck, Kaye and Shavonne having grabbed two each, you saw an empty spot in the back of the truck waiting to be filled.

A soother, which was attached to a ribbon, was swung around by you playfully as you eyed up three girls that were leaning against the fence. You kept your feet planted on the cement, leaning against the open door on the truck bed, and looked over the girl in front, long brown curly hair and big, wide brown eyes.

She reminded you of Angus, more innocent—and a freshman girl, of course.

“Hey you… come here,” you said to her with a smile and a motioning hand, your energy toward her far from malicious, “Who are you?”

“I, uh,” the girl stuttered, clutching the textbooks against her chest tighter as she flickered her eyes from the girls in the truck to you, curiously stepping forward, “I’m nobody. I mean, I’m not in the truck.”

The girl was so endearing, you almost didn’t want to invite her for the sake of keeping her innocence, but you could tell she was interested. You sucked up your own worries and smiled.

“Well, are you a freshman?” You tilted your head, a sweet smile playing on your lips.

“Yeah.”

“Okay, are you in, or you out?” 

There was a look of hesitation on the girl, her eyes flickering between the truck full of her peers and you, “I’m in.”

Once more, you were settled in between Shavonne and Kaye as you drove back to the high school with the brand-new freshman in tow. Life was feeling great again now that summer was here, the sun felt hotter than it did before school was out, everyone was smiling more—well, not the freshmen. The seniors, though, this was their last summer before they would be heading off into the real world. 

This was the last summer you’d be blessed with pure teenage freedom, you weren’t going to let anyone get in the way of that. Not Benny, not Elise and as much as you wanted to say not Angus, you hoped that he’d weasel himself into your life over the course of the next three months. He’s the one person you’d let flip your world upside down if he was so willing.

As you watched the girls file out of the trucks and stand in a large group, with Darla in the centre, you began to feel nervous again. Stuffing soothers in their mouths was far from the worst thing that would be happening to them, so as you watched as she started screaming at them, you had to look away from second-hand embarrassment.

“All right, you little freshman bitches! Air raid!” Darla screamed as one of the other seniors blew into a whistle, commanding the girls to lay flat down on the hot pavement on their stomachs. You watched as the sea of freshmen dropped to the ground like their life depended on it, only for Darla to scream the opposite, “That was pitiful. On your feet,” they all scrambled up, “AIR RAID!”

It was like a skipping record, you felt sorry for the girls and sorrier for the one you’d dragged in at the very end. A miserable start to their high school experience.

You stood between Shavonne and Elise as you three watched over Darla, who was taking this far more seriously than anyone else. She reminded you a lot of Teddy Kountze in that aspect, ready to live and breathe for torturing the new meat.

“This is horrible,” you groaned as you looked amongst the girls with red faces. They were all tired and getting slower by the minute.

“I feel for them,” Elise spoke up, a smile on her face as her brown eyes looked over the girls who were starting to look worse for wear, “but we all had to go through this and one day they’ll be in our shoes doing the same thing. So, they have to pay for it.”

“That’s worse,” you shuddered quietly, hands shoved into your back pockets as you leaned your weight on one leg as your eyes scanned your surroundings.

There were other seniors parked around the ‘festivity’, either watching with grins on their faces, or looks of disgust. It was 50/50. You’d immediately noticed Angus sitting nearby on the back of Jason’s truck, nestled in between him and Slater, shades resting over the bridge of his nose and a big smile on his face as he watched Darla screaming at the girls.

He tilted his head forward, looking over his shades and in your direction. You glanced away, assuming that the look was meant for Elise, who lifted a dainty hand and waved in his direction. It was rare that you felt anger, but there was something about this moment that made you want to turn to her and throw her to the ground like a primal animal fighting for a mate. You desperately needed the party to start, so you could drink the night away and hopefully have your attention on someone else.

Just as you focused back on the girls, Darla’s voice marked a cue.

“Well, we tried to give you a chance,” she started, pursing her lips as she walked around the girls who were lying on their stomachs, “But because you little prick teases can’t follow instructions, we’re going to have to try something else,” she turned to you, Shavonne, Kaye and Elise, using her finger to beckon you all, “Come on, girls.” She said, licking over her teeth as she commanded the freshman to roll onto their backs.

“This is so bad,” you whined to Kaye as you walked to Darla’s truck and grabbed one of the bags of flour, holding it against your hip.

“Oh, come on, have a little fun. You’re throwing flour on ‘em, it’s not like you're bruising their asses until they can’t sit for weeks,” Shavonne jumped into the conversation as she grabbed a bottle of ketchup and mustard in her hands, “You’ve earned the right to be a bitchy senior, remember that.”

With a heavy exhale, you let your lips spread into a faux smile. As much as you were hesitant, you were still having fun, in some weird, twisted way.

You allowed yourself to enjoy this—as much as you could—giggling with your friends as you watched them squirt condiments on the girls who covered their faces with their hands. Likewise, you took handfuls of flour, sprinkling it over the freshman and adding in gentle words once in a while, “Welcome to high school,” you’d say with a smile, while carefully avoiding their faces as you packed the flour over them in heaps.

Once the girls were rightfully covered with food, oil and sauces, you all spread out and began showing off the girls to the surrounding boys that watched. Kaye had taken the new freshman over to Tony and Mike, smoking a cigarette and chatting with them as she egged the freshman on to ‘propose’. You’d watched how Tony spoke to her kindly, most of the boys finding the situation awkward.

So, you decided to suck up your hesitation once and for all and took one of the girls over to Jason, Angus and Slater. Maybe you were doing it solely so you could chat with the curly haired brunette again, but you were only human! Elise was too busy, anyway. It wasn’t illegal to talk.

“Okay, freshie,” you said as you walked up to them, your hands resting over the girl’s shoulders, “I want you to propose to Angus.”

Even behind the sunglasses, you could see him squint his eyes in embarrassment, having greatly preferred watching from the sidelines rather than being involved. You already knew he wouldn’t let this go so easily, but they were the ones who came to park and watch. They could’ve gone anywhere else but here.

“On your knees,” you said to the girl, voice far from stern.

“Christ,” Angus groaned, lifting a hand to push his shades back up over his hair, pushing the curls out of his face as he looked down at the young girl, then back up at you. 

“Will you marry me?” 

Angus sighed as he looked down, fighting off a smirk as Jason shoved him playfully with his shoulder, “C’mon, Tully, the poor thing wants to marry you, don’t leave the girl hanging. Imagine everything you could do to her—I mean with her.” 

You kept a hand on the girl’s shoulder, hoping that Jason would shut his mouth.

“Fine,” Angus spoke, putting his hands on his thighs and sighing at the circumstance that he knew he couldn’t get out of, “What will you do for me?”

“Anything,” she answered, her voice as confident as she could muster, and you started to regret your actions when you saw Jason smile wide. He was usually a nice guy, but he wasn’t very smart and didn’t think before speaking—the sole reason Shavonne was always made at him. You also noted the empty beer bottle behind him, rolling your eyes.

“Open your mouth like this,” Jason said, opening his in an o-shape, which the girl followed. Angus groaned and turned his head away, stifling laughter, “Uh-huh, yeah. That’s a good one for the memory bank.”

“That is so degrading, man,” Slater said through a laugh that exposed how high he was, his red eyes hardly open as he looked over at Jason in a mixture of disgust and admiration.

The young girl immediately pulled herself up to her feet, cheeks red and looking up at you after Jason’s words. You wrapped an arm around her in comfort as you narrowed your eyes at the blonde boy, “You can be a real asshole, Jason,” you muttered at him, not even looking at Angus as you walked away. That was a mistake you’d be regretting for the rest of the evening.

“Don’t get mad at me, you brought her here!” Jason called after, the two beers in his system not doing wonders for his filter.

“Look at what you did you pervert,” Angus shoved at him playfully, putting his shades back over his eyes as he watched you walk away. Unbeknownst to you, he’d been thinking about you a lot too, more than you could comprehend.

“Those guys are jerks,” you had been telling the girl, “Watch out for boys like those, okay? You deserve someone who will treat you like the lady you are.”

The words were soothing, you could see it in her eyes, and you promised yourself that you’d stay far, far away from the senior’s celebrations next year.

Just as you had started herding the girls back into the truck, preparing to go through a car wash to clean the girls up in the most humiliating way ever, someone came running up behind you. 

“What do you want?” You asked when the figure came into your peripheral vision, having assumed it was Jason coming back with an apology—that was wishful thinking. Lifting the truck bed up with a click, your eyes flickered to Angus, watching you through his shades and a smile on his lips.

“Ouch, didn’t realize you were mad at me,” he smirked, your eyes looking up and down at him with a quirked eyebrow. You noticed the puka shell necklace poking out from underneath his t-shirt—you’d given that to him as a gift just over a month ago. It made your cheeks warm.

“Sorry, thought you were Jason,” you admitted as you wiped your hands clear of flour on the denim that covered your hips. You glanced around, noticing that your truck was the last to leave, the other seniors pulling out of the lot as you two spoke, “I gotta’ get going. Duty calls.” You said, taking a few steps back.

“You should skip out, Kaye and Shavonne don’t need you to drive through a car wash,” he said, glancing up at the freshman that were sitting in the back and listening in because they had nothing better to do except wait for the next phase of hazing.

“I don’t know, Angus,” you sighed, placing your hands over your hips as you looked over to the side view mirror where you met Shavonne’s gaze. She motioned for you to go, your heart leaping in your chest, “Where are we going?”

“Slater wants to head over to Pickford’s place, you know, get some stuff and hang out for a bit.”

“You really want me there?”

“Well, I wouldn’t ask if I didn’t want you around,” he smiled, a hand reaching forward so he could hook his finger into one of your belt loops. That alone made you want to throw your arms around him then and there, forcing your lips together in a heavy kiss so he could taste your cherry chapstick.

“Yeah, whatever. Sounds cool,” you returned with a bashful smile, looking over at the freshmen as you smacked the side of the truck a few times to alert Kaye that they were ready. Both you and Angus waved the girls away, but you couldn’t keep your focus on anything except where his finger kept you tugged close to him.

“Man, I called shotgun before you,” Slater complained from the back seat in Angus’ car.

“It’s the shortest drive to Pickford’s,” you told the long-haired stoner, sitting sideways in your seat so you could look back at him.

“Yeah, but it all has to do with the morals of it,” he continued.

A laugh bubbled up, and you sat back in the passenger seat, looking out the open window and listening to the rock music playing from Angus’ radio, Aerosmith. You nodded your head along to the sound, one hand resting over where the window rolled down, the other on your thigh with fingers tapping along your skin. It was in moments like these you felt at peace, your hair blowing in the wind and a big smile on your face as the sun warmed you, hot enough that you could close your eyes and pretend you were on a coastal beach.

“You’re going to the party, right?” Angus asked, slowly your attention settling on him.

“Wouldn’t dream of missing it,” you smiled, the excitement buzzing inside of you.

“You going there with the girls?” 

“No, I’m going with Benny,” you answered, lips spreading into a big grin when you saw the expression that fell over his face, “I’m kidding. God, you’re gullible.” 

“You suck,” he rolled his eyes, reaching a hand to gently push at you. The same hand falling down so it could rest over your thigh—your bare thigh.

There was no willpower in you to push his hand away, to bring up Elise and say that if he wanted to act this way with you, he had to put an end to whatever was going on with them. The guilt would gnaw away at you later, for now you would allow yourself to enjoy the intimacy.

“What about you?” You asked, “who are you going with?”

“Just some of the football guys,” he replied, his thumb drawing circles over your thigh as he focused ahead on the road, “Why? Are you trying to go together?”

“You wish,” you laughed at his suggestion, “I’ll see you there. Maybe.”

Once at Pickford’s you lagged behind Slater and Angus, letting them talk with their parents as they packed away for what looked like a trip. That answered your question about how Pickford managed to pull off a big senior party at his house. 

With your hands clasped in front of you, you smiled at the two older adults and kept your mouth tight–you’d never met them before, and you weren’t going to say anything to give them the wrong impression. They already seemed weary around Slater.

“Michelle is inside,” Pickford’s mother said to you with a sweet voice as she shoved some suitcases into the trunk of their vehicle, under the assumption you were there to meet with the only other girl there. 

“Okay, yeah. Thanks.” you piped up, forcing a smile, unmoving until Angus wrapped an arm around your shoulder and tugged you toward the house.

“It was nice seeing you, have fun on your trip!” He called out to them once more, his charismatic nature taking the forefront, “Why are you being awkward with them?” he asked through a breathy chuckle, looking down at you as Slater led the way inside.

“I’m not awkward, I just like to make a good first impression,” you said, pulling away from his touch so you could shut the front door, “And what about you? You’re like… a chameleon.”

“What the hell does that mean?” Angus turned around to look at you with a raised eyebrow, paired with a curious smile.

You shrugged, walking past him as you followed Slater up the stairs, “You have this uncanny ability to blend into whatever social situation you want. It’s chameleon-like,” you explain, “Have you never noticed it before?”

“She’s totally right man,” Slater spoke from ahead of you, reaching the top of the stairs and turning around, “You know how to make friends with everybody and fit right in, you could totally be a CIA spy, man,” he spoke with his hands, eyes focusing on Angus as the two of you made up the stairs, “You’re not a spy are you?”

“Aw, shit, Slater,” Angus groaned, “You caught me. Guess I gotta’ assassinate you like they asked me to.” He abruptly fake punched Slater’s gut, making the stoner jump back.

“Not funny, man,” he said, causing you to laugh as you walked past him, “That’s, like, my worst fear.”

“Being assassinated?” You looked over your shoulder at Slater, giving him a look that screamed, ‘what the fuck?’.

“Yeah, exactly! Just like JFK, man. I’m driving around one day and BOOM, bullet right into my skull and killing me instantly.” He emphasized the word, pretending to shoot you with a fake sniper.

“Sorry to break it to you, Slate-man, but most stoner teens from small town America aren’t on any hit lists.” Angus said as he knocked on Pickford’s bedroom door, the boy needing to come up and unlock it for them all, “You don’t drive, either.”

“JFK wasn’t driving either, man, that’s some scary stuff.” Slater said, pointing a finger at him as he did.

“Be careful, Slater, if you think too hard about it, you might manifest it into reality,” you snickered as you followed Angus into Pickford’s bedroom.

“So, not funny.”

You’d all settled into the large bedroom room, with you sitting next to Angus on the bed and Slater on the floor just to your left. For the first few minutes, while Pickford had dug around in his stash, you talked with Michelle and looked at her in awe—to you, she was way cooler than Darla could ever be.

“Sample of the goods,” Pickford smiled as he sat in front of Michelle, the girl wrapping her legs and arms around him as he lit up the joint, passing it over to Slater, who was here for business.

The long-haired teen took a drag from the expertly-rolled joint, and you watched as he held the smoke in for a few seconds and narrowed his eyes. If there was anything that impressed you about Slater, it was the fact that the kid could be high 24/7 without getting sick from it. You were also sure that he could do a blind test and know what kind of strains he was smoking from memory.

“Fifteen bucks,” Pickford spoke up, handing the bag of loose flower to Slater, who then handed the joint to you.

With ease, you brought the end up to your lips and inhaled, the smoke moving deep into your lungs as you pulled away and exhaled. It wasn’t an instant high, but you could feel your shoulders relaxing as you passed it to Angus, his fingers brushing against yours.

“Hey man,” Slater leaned forward, looking between both of you, “Can you spot me a ten?”

Michelle and Pickford chuckled as both of you snapped your eyes at him, Angus humming in question as he hit the joint. “I’ll pay you, like, Tuesday and shit.” He said, smoking still coming out of his mouth, as he looked down at the five dollar bill he pulled out of his pocket.

“You owe me ten and a shake from Top Notch,” you told him as you pulled out a ten dollar bill from your pocket, a permanent smile on your face as you slipped the bill to Pickford.

“Thank you,” Slater grinned, “I’ll definitely get you a shake, man, one of this big chocolate ones, but we gotta’ share it, alright? Those are my favourite.”

“Deal,” you giggled, having not realized how you’d settled nicely against Angus’ side, his left arm wrapping around you with his hand placed over your hip.

As the five of you started chatting about the party plans and passed around the joint once more, leaving your eyes half-lidded and glossy, there was a knock on Pickford’s bedroom door. You smacked your lips a couple of times, feeling the dryness accumulate in your mouth and desperately wishing you had a big glass of water with you.

“Hide this,” Angus passed the joint to you, which made you realize the knock was coming from his parents. A bit panicked, you looked down at the joint in your hands, then passed onto Michelle as Pickford rushed up and began hiding his paraphernalia into the depths of his dresser drawers.

“Who is it?” Pickford called out, his mother answering and explaining that he’d best come out there.

The entire situation left you feeling paranoid, rubbing a hand over your eyes as if that would hide the redness—you’d left your purse with Visine in Kaye’s truck. Angus got up and helped Pickford, spraying some air freshener around the room as you all adjusted yourselves into different areas. Michelle moved to the window ledge, Slater leaned back into the rounded chair and once Angus was back to sitting on the bed, you found yourself laying back on him with his arms wrapped around your waist and hands clasped on your stomach.

“Kevin, open the door.” His father’s voice boomed, making you shudder.

“It’s okay,” Angus’ deep voice murmured into your ear, leaving you shivering and feeling nervous for an entirely different reason now.

You sighed shakily, doing your best to relax as Pickford opened the door, his father looking miserable and furious. Quickly, you flickered your gaze away and tried not to listen in on the conversation, turning your head enough so you could look up at Angus. Slowly, you lifted a hand up, so your fingers could play with a couple of the curls that hung over his ears. The two of you stayed like that, smiling at each other like you were in love and acting like nothing was out of the ordinary.

Pickford dealt with the situation, which had to do with the delivery driver bringing kegs of beer to his house much earlier than the teen had anticipated. He was playing it off as coolly as he could, but when you glanced over, his father looked like he was about to explode any second. You so wished you were sober right now.

You smacked your dry again as the teen left the room, looking up at his father, who hadn’t moved. He looked over everyone, hands on his hips, “You guys know anything about a party here tonight?” He asked, flaring his nostrils as he waited for someone to confess.

There was a collective ‘no’ amongst all of you, shrugging it off as if that was a preposterous idea. You all sighed in relief when he left, Slater especially as he pulled out the baggy of weed he’d hidden in his shirt and tossed it onto the round table in front of him.

“Pickford is so dead,” you said aloud, looking at everyone.

“Fucking delivery driver. Never in my life have I seen those bastards arrive early,” Angus replied, shifting behind you as you all tried to listen in to the sound of Pickford’s father trudging down the stairs.

“You think the party is a bust?” Slater asked, his gaze flickering to Michelle.

The girl let out a sigh as she looked out the window and saw her boyfriend coming back inside as the delivery driver start putting the kegs back in his truck. The front door slammed, echoing within the house as if confirming everyone’s worst fears, “yeah.”

As the car pulled away from Pickford's house, you settled into the backseat, eyes closed, feeling the wind from the open windows cool your skin. Angus and Slater talked over their plans for the evening, but all you could think about was the warmth of Angus's arms wrapped around you earlier. It made you feel comforted, safe, and strangely excited. You wanted to go back to that moment, to tilt your head back and look into his eyes again and note the small details on his face that you’d never paid attention to before. To touch his curls again, letting your fingers get caught as you pull him into a kiss—

"Am I taking you home?" Angus's voice broke through your thoughts, and you met his gaze in the rearview mirror. 

"Yes, please," you replied softly, sitting forward and feeling like everything around you was moving slower than reality, "so what's up for tonight?"

"Don’t know yet," Angus said, turning onto your block, "we're going to meet up with Pickford and Michelle, figure things out now that his parents are staying back from the trip. You sure you don’t want to come along?"

You hesitated, chewing on your bottom lip. It was a tempting offer to spend more time with them, but you had other plans. "No, I'm good," you sighed, looking out onto the street as your house came into view, "Kaye is picking me up around eight, so I should go get ready. I’ll see you around, though?"

"Yeah, I'll be around," Angus replied with a smile that sent a shiver down your spine.

"Cool," you smiled back, reaching over to tousle his curls before sliding to the edge of the car. Slater jumped out to push the seat forward for you, and as you stepped out, you leaned forward against the door, looking through the open window.

"Bye, Angus," you said, a hint of playfulness in your voice, "See you later, Slater."

As you walked towards your house, you couldn't shake the excitement bubbling inside you. The night was full of possibilities, and you wondered what it would bring. But through the anticipation, a nagging thought lingered—the growing attraction between you and Angus.

Two sets of eyes watched as you walked to your house, disappearing through the front door.

“She’s so into you, man, I’ve never seen her act like that around Benny,” Slater spoke, nodding to himself as he glanced at Angus, “What are you gonna’ do?”

The teen sat there for a moment, thinking over the words as he shifted the car back into drive and sped down the street, hand gripping at the steering wheel as his mind filled with complications over the situation, “I don’t know.”

[wellofdean]

Sorry ,for me personally, it has to be out loud acknowledge to even remotely make up for how badly they treated fans over the years, the out loud queerbaiting in one breath and mocking in the next. The in text gay jokes, sexism and homophobia. The digs at their own fans.

They want the credit without having to do it. Again. They want the pat on the back they need to earn it this time.

Years of baiting for views and profit needs a payoff imo. Sorry people downplaying how important the canonization of this ship in particular is just hurts to see over and over. Stop letting them off the hook please. You deserve more. We all do.

It’s important. It does matter.

The cas/destiel hope baiting continued with the Winchesters and that’s why I’m at a put up or shut up moment with Jensen and the writers. He and Danneel kept the hype up every week that the show was airing all the while knowing cas doesn’t even get a name drop. He’s not even hinted at. Mary/john paralleled destiel so many times yet refused to call it want it was.

They could have shut it down week one, they interacted on tweeter a lot during airing and knew what fans thought there was going to be an acknowledgment or hint that never happened. They are smart people, they saw the speculation and hype but didn’t step in with a gentle ‘sorry guys this is about the new crew’ they fanned the hope instead with ‘something big happens’ that was just dean meeting the new team.

Loved the Winchesters as a show, sad it got dropped cause I loved the new cast so much. That said the baiting hurt and wasn’t necessary, the show was good.

Everyone is looking back with rose colored glasses and rewriting history. But things were ugly with the spn team/cast/writers at times. The homophobia was pretty out loud in a way it was allowed to be in the early 00s. They’ve grown and that’s wonderful but it still happened.

They need to earn the praise they want imo. No hate! Glad you are happy! just feels a little unfair to say we should all let them off the hook again and be happy with nothing while praising the benevolent straights. Just my two cents 😅💚💙

I want to answer this sympathetically, because I know it's disappointing that no one has been willing to just say "Dean and Cas are gay for each other" out loud, and I don't think there are many people in this fandom who picked up what the narrative was putting down, and were not disappointed in the finale for LOADS of reasons, only one of them being that Dean never had the chance to acknowledge what Cas said to him. I understand your feelings, my anonymous friend, I really do. I too found the end of Supernatural deeply frustrating, because they managed to erase the meaningful journeys of every single character, not just Dean, though what they did with Dean was the worst. I completely understand wanting them to JUST FUCKING SAY IT. I do. I get you. I simply do not agree.

My argument, which I have made many, many times, is that what you want is THERE in the narrative. They made Cas Dean's ride or die, they made it obvious that Dean can't carry on without Cas -- that the loss of Cas means Dean loses his will to live. That was explicit. They made it clear that more than anyone else, EVEN Sam, Cas is essential to him. They structured the narrative around Dean and Cas's emotional beats. They let Cas say the obvious thing out loud, and then showed us Dean behaving exactly as Dean would in a situation like that -- in the midst of his existential crisis about who he is and whether he has ever had free will, and with the world falling around them -- they showed us Dean unable to speak, unable to respond but overwhelmed with emotion. Like, remember that when Mary died when Dean was four, he was unable to speak? Is it really so hard to imagine that he loves Cas with all his heart? To read love in Dean's watery eyes, and the way he chokes down his heart and begs Cas not to do this? Not to being saying goodbye? I mean... I CAN DO THAT MATH. Literally everything about the story supports it. IT IS THERE.

Fandom always argues: if Cas were a woman, we wouldn't have any questions, so what I am just wondering is, why do we have questions again? Is it because we (homophobically) can't just see it for what it is because it's gay? Because, when it's gay we lose our ability to interpret narrative, and we need to be told, like we are 5 years old, what's happening in a perfectly obvious story? Or, is it a skill issue? Is it because we need the creators of the story to affirm our interpretation? We need the actors to just TELL US what they meant when they did that thing with their faces? Do we need their permission to understand it for what it is?

I've said many times that calling what happened on Supernatural 'queerbaiting' because no one ever made out or fucked on the maps table is really offensive to me actually. Don't you know that there are queer people in this world who never get to live their truths? Who just ache and yearn and want, and never get to have? Like, that there are in fact queer people who are afraid to say what they feel, or who don't understand or embrace who they really are and what they really need until it's too late? Are those not QUEER EXPERIENCES? I love Dean and I love that story because it's queer as hell and it makes ME feel seen, because I am like him! I am a queer person of his age who didn't ask myself those questions seriously enough in time! My own queerness is very fucking real, and it is UNLIVED. That HAPPENS to actual queer humans, and like, it's not queerbaiting when it's just queer, but didn't tell you the queer story YOU wanted it to tell. You saw years of tease? I saw years of choices, and love, and accretion of deep wells of emotion. I saw a clear romance, and a character becoming. It was a story I needed, AS A QUEER PERSON.

And the Winchesters was just joyful if you went in with that understanding of the previous story. It was like getting an A+ in Supernatural week after week from Dean himself. I can accept that the stars didn't align for Cas/Misha to come back in the first season, accept that if he were coming back, it needed to be more than a cameo to make it right, and that it didn't work out. I am so sad it was cancelled, but I can accept that it was leading someplace it didn't get to go. That's not queerbaiting, either! It's telling a story that was aborted, and I think if you don't see that, then that is DEFINITELY a skill issue.

I'm not looking back with rose coloured glasses; Supernatural is fresh in my mind. I watched it again without the internal pressure of expectations that aren't going to be met, and let it tell me what it was really doing all along. I am happy. It's a really compelling, deeply romantic, deeply queer story. I don't need permission from anyone involved to think that, and I don't need it explained to me. I understand wanting it to just be fully explicit, but I would not trade the story it did tell for a simpler, less engaging one, that asked less of me. I love it very much AS IT IS.

And, please: point me to this fabled abuse of fans. I have never really seen an example of it that is not easily debunked with a little bit of context.

[foursaints]

pls please talk about ludora more i beg

i’ve been thinking a lot about them and their contrasting relationships to public image & how they’re more similar than they realize. LUDORA IS ALWAYS MATCHING EACH OTHER’S FREAK!!!

i like the fanon of pandora as luna-esque & quirky. but i think that unlike luna, pan actually really DOES care about what others think of her… she likes being eccentric and different! but she presents herself that way on purpose! she’s an inventor, she’s original, a visionary, and she has a pretty big ego about it. she’s quiet, but i think she might secretly disdain people who look down on her for being different (an “im smarter than them anyway” type of attitude)

that’s part of why i like pairing her with lucius, who is just as crazy about his public image, but NEEDS to be respected by conventional standards. essentially: if someone called him a weirdo he would kms.

the interplay between pandora as a wild/unconventional Genius Inventor & lucius as equally conniving but obsessed with Dignity and Looking Proper is really fun. imagine the mutual FRUSTRATION when your sole intellectual match has such different values. but i can’t stop thinking about how like…. despite his best efforts… he’s the only one who ACTUALLY matches her freak.

like… lucius owns albino peacocks and he walks around with a Pimp Cane. the man is BIZARRE. i like to think that lucius is trying SOO fucking hard to be a respectable pureblood & Unimpeachably Normal that it’s looped all the way around. he has a 12-step haircare routine and is a platinum customer at Borgin & Burkes <- this man is the biggest weirdo on earth and he doesn’t even realize it.

i think that pandora would be WAY more entranced by someone like that, rather than someone who is actively trying to come across as ~quirky~. lucius is organically insane because he doesn’t even realize he’s insane in the first place. he’s DEATHLY convinced that he’s perfectly fine and it’s everyone else around him who‘s crazy.

she wants to study him in a fucking lab. and lucius is constantly running up against the life-ruining wall of “wow, the only person who understands the way i think (my ambition, my need to be Great, my conniving tendencies, my flair for the dramatic) is a living representation of everything i hate”. they’re wretched mirrors.

and they would eat so hard at a ministry function you can’t tell me otherwise. imagine how campy their house parties would be

[woodchipp]

Yeah no I'll have to cut Basil out entirely lol. Dude has no reason to be in a version of the plot where Mari commits suicide and my attempts to organically integrate him into it without deviating from the game's original framework too much didn't work out. Which is a shame. He's got a cool design and he's interesting! The problem is that he's good only as a plot device in Headspace, and I don't want to relegate him to that :(

To make up for that, I think it'd probably make more sense for Sunny to be the photographer and for Mari to be the flower enthusiast. The former's hobby could be justified by him having memory issues, and thus the idea of creating a photo album could be born out of the fear that he'll forget his friends at some point in the future. Additionally, I think this could benefit Sunny's characterization - the photo album's captions could be used to characterize Sunny instead, and the detail of Basil being outside the frame since he's the one taking the photos would make more sense for Sunny because the game (off-handedly) mentions he's "a bit camera-shy". I imagine that he wouldn't want to be featured on his photos both because he doesn't consider himself important enough and because he wouldn't want to be reminded of his appearance :) Maybe that would also recontextualize his eternal resting bitch face in the few photos he is on as him being geniunely uncomfortable as opposed to just "not liking to smile"

I guess the photo album itself could be more of a group project the whole group is involved in, since y'know, they're friends and all that. Of course, most of the captions would be written by Sunny himself, but there could be a few captions here and there from Kel, Hero, or - better yet - Mari. Girl needs some semblance of a personality lmao

Speaking of Mari, her hobby could stem from the flower arrangement classes she and her mother were apparently taking. Maybe she'd take it up along with softball to keep herself busy or something. I just think that a scene of Mari telling Sunny about the symbolism of the flowers she recently grew could be pretty cute lol. I'm not made of stone :P

...huh, now that I'm thinking about it, Aubrey taking the photo album away could be the catalyst for Sunny becoming a hikikomori. He still continues to attend school after Mari kills herself as a way to get out of the house he simply can't bear to stay in anymore and despite his deteriorating mental state. Then one day, Aubrey begs him to let her study at his house, he reluctantly agrees, she finds the ruined photo album and angrily confronts him over it instead of stealing it on the spot (in this case, her argument that the album is important to all of the friend group would hold a bit more water since it was, after all, a group project). Being reminded about the photo album proves to be the last straw for Sunny, however, and so his anger issues come into play without causing him to kill someone in a fit of rage as he blows up at her for going through his things behind his back to look at the album without his permission. And that's when Aubrey decides she had enough and escapes with the album in tow. I imagine her crush essentially telling her to fuck off on top of seeing the ruined photos would hurt her twice as hard, and it'd give her a considerably more solid reason to hate Sunny's guts four years later.

Sunny, horrified by his behavior (and totally not reminded of the big argument Mari killed herself after, ofc :)) decides to shut himself off from the outside world for good. Can't hurt anyone ever again if you remove yourself out of their lives altogether and all that. Oh, and by the way, isn't it funny how there's another character who directed a furious outburst at someone they cared about?

[fangaminghell]

desire for your renegade trio :)

(also bonus question but can you tell me more about them esp myo I've heard some things from sleepy and I want to know more)

( points ) Sleepy mention. Hello Sleepy ( waves).

Anyway Jesus fucking Christ my renegade trio where do I even START. This might be long bc there's a lot to unpack here.

SPOILERS FOR 13.5!!!!! Also this bitch is gonna be long so buckle up. Also if there's any spelling errors: whoops!

Let's start with Will bc I think he's the easiest to explain. Wilbur "Will" ???( The only one without a last name). He's the interceptor for my renegade route. Will is.....to be blunt, weak willed. For the majority of rejuv he's heavily paranoid and anxious, and most of his actions come out of fear than anything else. Bc of this, he kinda leans on the likes of Isador for support ( this lead to a small crush on his end, but he never really thought he had a chance, so he isn't suuuuuuper upset when Isador finds someone else). But with his admiration for Isador, it should be stated and cannot be understated that Myo is Will's best friend. They had a rocky start and sometimes it seems questionable, but Myo and Will are best friends. Myo is the angel on Will's shoulder. This is important.

Going back to Will if should be noted that there is a point where Isador isn't part of the group, which coincidentally is when the gang was took that month of training. Myo and Will was the only ones there and this was where Will, for the first time in a long time, was able to build some confidence and friendship with his other teammates. For as much as Isador was someone Will deeply admired, he was also overtly relying on him. Giving a space where he can think and feel and be without Isador really helped him! But good things don't last. A little spoiler for Myo's section, but Myo was taken by Vitus during their mission with Erin and Kanon. Not knowing if they were dead or alive, it didn't matter, it absolutely crushed Will. Bc he saw. With his interceptors wish, he saw Myo get taken and beg not to. Any sense of confidence that was once there was shattered. This was perfect for Kieran and Clear to swoop in, naturally. But they still knew Will needed some convincing so......they got Isador to do it for them. Isador was what made Will agree to renegade - he didn't really want it, but if it meant giving his friends a peaceful end then.....surely it would be worth it, right? Now depending on what route I go with ( Sunburn or Frostbite - more on that later),some events will play out differently but here's the things I do know: Will goes on autopilot essentially. He's miserable, his faith in Isador is honestly very close to shattering ( he's fucking scared of the guy now) and M2 makes things Worse™. His defeatist nature pretty much made him lose hope, going along with a miserable renegade, all the while missing his best friend Myo. Again spoiler for Myo's section but they're alive. Just. Different. Very different. A completely different person. Myosotis Bluebell is the loyal servant of Vitus, and their objective is to carry out his will. And if they fail, well, they are simply discarded. Surprise surprise Myo fails- I like to think they were finally able to get back to their senses. But by that point it's too late. Will holds a dying Myo in his arms, watching them fade away, and listen to their only wish: to be human. To live. And with that wish, that goodbye, came a promise. A promise full of rage and sorrow and hatred for Isador Arkwright. Myo was the one that snapped Will out of his misery. Myo was the one that made Will fully realize that renegade isn't what he wants, and plans to stop it. Myo was the one that unlocked Will's rage. Myo is the angel on Will's shoulder.

The plan was simple. Just play along, no matter how much he hates it. No matter how much he wants to bash Isador's skull in. He will wait. He will be patient. And just when it seems renegade is about to be complete, he will snatch it from Isador's hands. To kill him and reset the world- it will be good. It will be karma. Isador will not win. And it does happen. Of course, things might change here and there once we see more of the renegade route, but overall? It happens. Will stabs Isador through his chest, cursing him to an immortality bound to help the next Interceptor when they do arrive. He will help them, as it is his curse. There is nothing he can do about it. And then the world resets. And Will makes sure life is better for him and Myo. It's selfish, he knows. But he needs this, okay?

In Paragon, Will is a florist that owns a small flower shop in GDC. He had a partner named Abby, who works at a tattoo parlor, and his best friend Myo is a spunky, graffiti artist that has a knack for getting fired from jobs ( "it's bc their assholes!" they always say). Will is actually older in Paragon! He was originally from Aryith ( the region deso is in) and that in my timeline is a few years away before the main events of the game. Myo is still the same age (18) but their friendship is still as strong as ever. Whether or not Will knows of his past life or what has happened to him I'm not sure yet. I do know that he's happy, as he deserves to be.

Myo Bluebell ( or if you look up above, Myosotis Bluebell) is a rowdy, foul mouthed, monster energy drink loving, " I don't give a fuck" half servant. Yes, half servant. Let's go back a little. Myo's father was a simple man that lived in kristilline Town. He had a beautiful wife, and was expecting to have a child. He was an avid goer of Isle of Angels too. Everything was perfect.....until his wife, and by extension his unborn child, dies. And just like that his perfect life is gone. But Myo's father doesn't want to let go. Not yet. Possibly not ever. So he made a deal with the devil: Vitus. The deal was simple: Vitus shall create a servant that was exactly in Myo's father's wife's image( this reminds me I need a name for that man). They would be able to produce a child and thus, his happy family that he had always envisioned would come to pass. In return, Vitus only asked for Myo's father and Myo's soul when the time comes. Myo's father was a foolish man. He agreed immediately. After some time, Myo was born, and Myo's father was a loyal follower of Vitus. Yes, Myo and Gaera knew each other, all the way back then. No they did not get along. Myo back then was a sweet kid actually, if not lonely due to how restrictive Myo's father and Vitus were. They tried becoming friends with Gaera but Gaera hated them sooooo. I haven't fully fleshed out their time in Kristilline but I can already see the religious trauma that came from it. When Vitus and Myo's family moved to Goldenleaf, things played out the same: Myo wasn't really friends with anyone,Gaera hated Myo, etc etc. But there was one day that Gaera took things too far. Gaera was the one that told Myo of their status as a half servant, and their mom as a servant under the control of Vitus all because their father couldn't get over his grief. This shattered Myo's world completely. To just be a toy that fulfilled an old man's fantasy....that was disgusting. To make matters worse, I imagine this was around the time the Wispy Tower fire happened. Myo's father died in that tower. And as for their mother well.....I like to believe she grew to care about Myo a bit. So when it was time to leave, she didn't take Myo with her. Leaving Myo alone. Needless to say, Myo's trust in others was completely ruined.

And now we get to the present. Myo is pretty much considered the town nuisance. They get into trouble, they are very very fouled mouths, and they steal a bunch. " why don't you just leave" " well fuck you too bitch". Myo is only out to look for themself and only themself, just like the rest of that god forsaken town. In canon, half servants don't seem to have powers, but I'm gonna have Myo have some for fun- teleporting short distances is kind of their go too. They also tend to get a bat or a monster energy drink out of nowhere, but it's unclear if that's their powers or not.

Like I said in Will's section, the two are best friends. But it didn't start that way: in fact Myo thought Will was a wimp and Will was terrified of Myo. For all intensive purposes, their friendship should not work. But it does. Myo has hard walls up bc of what happened with their parents,and just in general with Goldenleaf towns behavior. And Will wasn't even trying to break down their walls. But once Myo decides " I'm going to befriend Will to spite Izzy Boy" things just go by so naturally- and soon enough Will is calling Myo their best friend despite Myo feeling like they're the worst person to be best friends with.....but it's nice. Really nice. Myo tells Will things that they wouldn't dare tell anyone else. Myo is constantly telling Isador is fucking shit ( in the nicest way they can muster bc they don't want to hurt Will's feelings). Will is probably the few people that know Myo's love for plushies and cute stuff. What I'm getting at is that these two are besties. Full on besties, despite how different they are, despite how much Myo curse and drink and smack with the bat. They make each other better......which is why it was so painful when Vitus snatched Myo the way he did. The way he had to strip of everything Myo stood for- their freedom, their will to live, their disregard for authority - all of it stripped away to be the perfect servant. Bc again, Vitus had their soul. Myo was no longer Myo, Myo was Myosotis Bluebell. Someone so void of themself, only listening to the commands of their master, Vitus. They were almost robotic, in a way. It was scary. It wasn't Myo. But even despite all that, Myo was still there. Their will to live and be free got out. It cost them their life, and so dying in Will's arms, they cry. They cry that they want to live. They cry that they want to be human, to be free. They cry that they hope Will makes things better. Myo was not there to see Will's resolve. Myo was not there to see Will's rage. Not to hear Will's promise. But they would be proud. So proud, of their best friend. Myo is the angel on Will's shoulder. Never ever forget that.

Myo in Paragon is a human. A full human, all flesh and blood. Their father never had a deal with Vitus. Their mom never died. Myo was still a trouble maker, though that is to be expected. They aren't as rough around the edges as they used to be. They smile more, laugh more, and live their life the way they want to. Still can't land job but that's okay. They, like Will, are happy. Unlike Will, I am 100% certain they would not remember the renegade route. They just live, free and all.

And now. For Isador Arkwright. The bitch ass motherfucker.

Let's start from the beginning. Isador Arkwright was born and raised in Oblitus Town. He lived with his mom, his dad....and his twin brother Theodore. Or as everyone calls him, Teddy. Isador's childhood.... wasn't great. His parents were okay, all things considered. In fact, I would argue they were all happy once. It was moreso the fact that his hometown was actively dying because of the big stupid city up ahead. His town was dying, and the people of his home was losing hope. They often looked at the twins for some sort of guidance - he was no town leader by any means. But his levelheadedness and compassion ( even with a stoic face) was what the people needed at that time. Things were bad, but their dad held some semblance of hope......until he died. He died and desperate for hope, the town looked at Teddy - he was kind and compassionate, and had skills to boot. The people wanted him to make things better. They wanted him to be their hero. No one looked at Isador. Not like how they did with Teddy. Not even their own mother. That was the start to the end.

In Isador's head, he always felt like he had something to prove. His brother was always better than him, always got to loving attention, always was the one who was expected to fix things, and it's never him. And he tries. Isador tried so hard to just have people look at him. But it's always Teddy. He grew to hate Teddy. No matter how kind he was to him. No matter how they were always together. Teddy was the hero and that was enough to make Isador seeth.

Because Oblitus town was dying by the day, and because Teddy was seen as an excellent battler, it was decided that he would take the notoriously easy Kalos league. If news came that poor old Oblitus town was the birthplace of a champion, their old town could be revived, surely. But as things go with twins, they always do things together. So it was only natural that Isador went as well. Teddy hoped that the trip would bring them closer together. Isador hoped that this could be his big break. And in the end, Isador had to quit the league after struggling for so long with a gym leader ( possibly one near the very end). All while Teddy was just about to enter the elite 4. Teddy, seeing that this trip did nothing but tear the two apart more, decided to drop the league entirely, wanting nothing more than to just go home with his brother. Isador never felt more humiliated. And the worst part? Some of the townspeople thought that it was his fault. That he held Teddy back. That was the last straw. Isador needed to kill him. He needed to kill Theodore.

The exact details I still have to work out, but here's the gist. Isador led Teddy into Darchlight Woods. He originally planned to strike and kill his brother, hide the body, and blame it on Darchlight Woods being Darchlight Woods. But something ( that I haven't fully fleshed out but could involve the ground caving in underneath Teddy) happened just as Isador was going for the blow. My vision is that Isador could have helped his brother. He could have. But he didn't. He simply ran, screaming bloody murder as if the Teddy was already gone. By the time he came back with others, Theodore's body was gone, only a blood stain in its place. And Isador waited. He waited for Theodore to come back. Waited for everything to fall apart and be locked out with nothing. But he didn't. Theodore never came back. Isador won. Ha.

Anyways~ After Teddy's death ( as in 3 years after his death), Isador thought that he was out of the clear for good, and thus decided to start over. He doesn't want to go back to Kalos, a harbor of his broken ego. Despite how infamous the Aevium league is, he thought if he really wanted to prove himself, prove his strength, then he would start anew with the league, getting a starter in Gearen City. That's where he met Will, actually! He didn't think much of the man, genuinely thinking he was just a pathetic person he wouldn't pay mind to....only to become his traveling partner. And as such he got to see Will constantly be in dangerous situations, being the one that's looked at, being the "hero" for others- just like Teddy. And for that, Isador hated him. How on earth can a pathetic being like Will get all the glory? Why not him? Why was it never him? It's not fair.

Because Isador has a lot going on, there's just. So many assets that I want to say but honestly can't because have you seen the fucking size of this ask. So I'll talk about two major important things. One of those being a man named Asfrith Lucian. Asfrith doesn't belong to me, he belongs to @eclysia and he is a very important character in relation to Isador. Long story short: they are doomed yaoi. So doomed. A more detailed story: They met in Terajuma. Asfrith was working with kakori to try and disperse the Xen battleships. Naturally, that led him into meeting the Renegade Trio, and more importantly, meeting Isador. He was actually the one that looked after Izzy when he got sick ( heatstroke bc the idiot did not want to take off his scarf in the fucking heat- idiot). Asfrith continued to be by Isador's side after Terajuma- Will and Myo went into the past with Melia and Venam, leaving Izzy behind with Asfrith ( probably bc he was still sick or got injured. Either way, they ditched him lmao). That's when him and Asfrith traveled to West Gearen ( Asfrith needs to get back to GDC, and Isador probably for the call that they'd meet up in East Gearen from the others). By the time the whole gang gets to route 7( which. Is not a place with great memories for Izzy. Between Darchlight Woods and his hometown) , specifically Honec Woods, where they officially become a couple. Surely nothing goes wrong after this, yes?

:)

So yeah, Isador is working with the MFs( Kieran and Clear) under the idea that if he destroys the world, he'd be the one that can provide to those who suffer from it, becoming a hero to all. The hero he was meant to be. Because he's with the MFs, Will was able to join the cause for Renegade. This is where things get interesting.

Isador tells Asfrith. He tells him all of it. And asks him to join him. There are two routes.

Frostbite: Asfrith refuses,causing the two to close their hearts. In the end, Asfrith dies by Isador's hands, and Isador continues on with his goal. His facade is broken, he no longer tries to be this warm hero that his brother was. He is cold and angry.

Sunburn: Asfrith agrees, and Isador is beyond happy. So happy that he smiles are more genuine more.....deranged, than usual. He's more upbeat than usual, too upbeat, too warm- and he still wants to pursue Renegade. Him and the love of his life, because Asfrith is the love of his life, ruling over the world as "heros". It's all he could ever ask for.

If we're talking about which one is canon, it's Frostbite. But regardless of which route, it all ends the same. Will kills Isador. He stabs him through his chest and places a curse on him that will change him forever. And what's more? Will reset everything. Everything except him. And so Isador lives in, within a realm outside of his own. He changed, morphed into a winged beast with horns, waiting for eons and eons just for the interceptor to show up. By that point, he hardly looked like himself. He hardly looked like Isador. And so he gave himself a new name.

Devil.

He had one job: Help the Interceptor. Prevent another renegade. It was what he was cursed to do. And he shall do it.

.

.

.

.

And that's it! God this was long! Hopefully it was all entertaining! And hopefully I made a lick of sense lmao. There's some details I really had to skim over bc of how long this was getting, so feel free to ask if you have anymore questions!!!!! Oh! And I never mentioned Teddy. You should ask about him :)

[skazoo]

heat waves.

↳ choi san x f!reader, implied past sakura miyawaki x f!reader

summer sucks and so does your boyfriend. you love him tho, so that's ok.

length. 5.5k

genre. vampire!san, crack, fluff and very little angst (unbelievable)

warnings/tags. language, mention of blood, mention of sex, i think that's it??

networks. @kflixnet

notes. woohoo!!! first ateez fic!!! not much to say i just love popsicle!san ig ALSO i'm so fucking bad at writing description wtf is that?? but also do you get the pun? please tell me you do.

i'm desperate for feedback and i love comments with your opinion!

(cross-posted on ao3 only)

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san knows you hate summer.

he knows you hate sweating, bugs, air conditioning in shops, and when people say 'it's not so much the heat as the humidity' in those stupid little knowing voices. 

san knows you hate summer, and your tossing and turning and whining in your shared bed is the glaring proof of that. 

with fond eyes, he watches you inch closer to his body every few minutes. it will inevitably lead you into the familiar position, with your head on his chest and your legs tangled together, you hugging him close to benefit from his gelid skin.

he admittedly gets all giddy and internally giggles like a teenager every time it happens. he’s just glad you’re not awake to catch him in the act for he would not hear the end of it.

san knows you hate summer but he can’t help but love the season for this reason exactly.

the two of you actually met in the middle of ‘one of the hottest summers ever recorded’ and from that moment on, he’s been in all your seasons.

FIRST SUMMER TOGETHER.

moving into a new apartment on the third floor with a narrow stairway and no elevator in the middle of july was possibly the worst decision you’ve ever taken in your entire life, and you’re pretty well known for making wrong choices. 

every one of your friends agreed that it was, in fact, a bad decision but you had embarked on the tedious journey knowing it was inevitable and desperately needed.

because honestly speaking, what were the options? were there options in the first place?

picture. you just moved from another country, running away from both your problems and your parents, things which if you think about it now, were one and the same. you’re a freshman in a college you’re surprised you even got into thanks to your messy portfolio. you don’t know anyone, let alone have friends, and sakura miyawaki, who’s apparently the sakura miyawaki —hot junior with a brilliant career ahead of her and a honeyed voice capable of making anyone fall at her feet— bumps into you and spills her iced coffee all over the sweatpants and sweatshirt combo that you call your pajama. 

it’s a chilly late september night, you’re coming back to your dorm from a lonely and sad dinner at the convenience store five minutes off campus, and your wide eyes, shivering body, and awkward incapability to form a single, coherent sentence must inspire her so much pity that she essentially begs you to at least allow her to take your dirty clothes to your dormitory’s laundry room. she’s pretty and smells nice, and in your book, that’s more than enough to follow her to the cramped and dusty room with flickering neon lights and a serious mold problem.

you talk the whole night, you dangling your legs from one of the dryers, and she, sitting legs crossed on the ground waiting for your clothes to clean up.

fast forward eight months, and she’s inviting you to live with her after having to hear you whine about your bio-hazard of a roommate for the whole semester. you’re together now, have been for two months or so, and it actually sounds like a good idea until it isn’t.

it doesn’t last too long. you know the first period of living together poses a great challenge to every relationship, you merely thought that yours was going to pass smoothly.

you fight over stupid things more often than not, you say sorry when you’re not supposed to, she feels bad, you have sex, and you are back to square one.

you’re not one to force something that’s not meant to be, disregarding your mental health in the process, and just before summer starts, you break up with her. it's not that surprising when it doesn’t turn out to be something tragic. she’s still your friend, you’re still living together under the same roof. there’s just an invisible wall acting as a boundary between the two of you.

when the summer you so fervently hate and she so animatedly loves finally comes around, your living situation becomes a problem. 

she has a new girlfriend, and you don’t resent her one bit. chaewon is pretty and smart and likes summer almost as much as sakura, she’s not the problem per se, it’s just that the small two-bedroom apartment is starting to feel claustrophobic. it’s when, after a month or so, you catch them doing stuff on the couch you and sakura bought together that you decide you have to move out. out of the apartment, out of the relationship.

which brings you to your current situation.

did sakura really have to find happiness in july?

you loudly curse the droplets of sweat that form at the back of your neck only to slowly crawl their way under your tank top, down your back. 

you take one look around the small atrium of the old building off campus you consciously decided to move into, then over your shoulder to the heap of furniture sakura so graciously let you take with you, and you’re overcome by the urge to just leave it all on the street, live a refreshing minimalist life, sleep on a mattress on the floor and keep your clothes inside your suitcase forever. 

you visibly grimace at how lazy you are, but, in your defense, you were promised assistance, motivation, an annoying cheerleader with a probable undiagnosed OCD hyping you up and telling you exactly how and where to move things.  

honestly, seonghwa was such a bitch to bail on you last minute. he should be here helping you (doing everything for you without even noticing because he hates how you do things), not lazing around somewhere (working overtime for mere pennies).

you loudly sigh, hoping he can hear you from the other side of the city before shaking your head to shoo away any counterproductive thought and rolling up non-existent sleeves to finally get to work after almost twenty minutes of sweet and pure procrastination.

starting going up and down the steep stairs, you think that maybe you were just being a tad bit overdramatic. yeah, you’re still sweating like a pig and your hair still uncomfortably sticks to the back of your neck, but you’re working relatively quickly and you’re finally seeing progress! who needs help? from a man, nonetheless? seonghwa can go to hell with his big words like irresponsibility, laziness, immaturity, and weaponized incompetence that he throws at you every time you beg him to help you with something.

this little emancipated-woman moment lasts for about an hour when you realize how right your best friend actually is in calling you dumb, and the real reason for everything going so smoothly and without that much of an effort finally reveals itself. having moved all the useless and light things first, your bigger furniture remains sitting on the street, tanning under a bright summer sun.

now you stand alone at the top of the first flight of stairs. a wanderer above a sea of silence and embarrassment. the bed structure you just left tumbling down the steps with a loud noise after trying to dangerously drag it to your apartment on your own, stares at you mockingly.   

and yet, the only thing you can think about is that when it fell, the headboard banged against the staircase wall and didn’t leave any mark, so at least the old building is not made of cardboard and won’t fly away at the next thunderstorm in a wizard of oz type of fashion.

two floors above you a door slams open and a deep, angry voice cascades on you from the heavens, judging for your sins and damning you to an afterlife of suffering in the fiery pits of the equivalent for stupid people of hell.

“what the fuck is happening in this forsaken building!? some people are trying to sleep, for fuck’s sake!”

you hear him before you see him but nothing about his voice could have prepared you to witness the hunk of a man hurling himself down the stairs to see your crouched and sad form pitifully sitting on the last step of the stairs, knees close to your chest and eyes looking at the consequences of your actions through fissures of your hands pressed in shame on your face. 

you know he’s standing behind you from the furious huffs coming from his nostrils every two or three seconds, and you slowly —comically, under other circumstances— turn your head to look at him, hovering over you, blazing glare pinning you down.

“was it you? who- what are you doing?”

“i dropped my bed…”

he passes an aggressive hand through his dark hair. “what the fuck does that mean?”

you silently point to the furniture at the bottom of the stairs, resigned eyes staying on his confused face.

“how did- you woke me up. i just fell asleep.”

“it’s almost noon.” you point out. “and it’s tuesday…”

he presses his lips in a thin line seemingly getting where you’re coming from.

then it dawns on you. almost too obvious considering the people you hang out with. “oh my god don’t tell me- you’re a vampire?”

“i am- wait- how did you- and why do you sound disappointed, what the fuck?”

you shake your head dismissively. “oh, it’s not you, i swear. i just thought i’d meet a normal person for once.” your attention is back to your bed, assessing how to bring it to the third floor and missing the man’s shocked expression. if they could, his eyes would pop off their socket.

“for once?” 

you shoo his disbelief away with a wave of your hand, leaving him gaping at you like a fish out of water. “i’m- who are you?”

you simply shrug. “oh, i’m YN. i’m moving here.”

he’s funny, you think. right hand propped on his hip, left hand massaging the bridge of his nose while he takes deep breaths, he looks just like the old lady that lived down your street when you were little, and that had something to say every time you and your brothers played outside.

“are you okay? do you need to sit down?” you gently pat the space near you on the step you’re sitting on. a worried smile playing on your lips.

he glares at you from over his hand and scoffs loudly. “look, i really don’t know how you know, but i am a vampire and i do need to rest every once in a while. so just- just do what you have to do but do it quietly.”

you frown as he turns around, surely intent to barricade himself back into his house. 

is he really going to make you ask for it?

you have to bury all your pride —which at this point is not a lot– to stop him from leaving. “can you help me?” a whisper that you know he hears loud and clear as his head snaps back to you and his body stills halfway up the first flight of stairs.

“what?”

you feign innocence, looking at everything but him. “what?”

his face contorts weirdly, and you don’t understand if he’s about to cry his eyes out in front of you out of frustration or scream at your face before snapping your neck and going back to sleep like this is just another tuesday for him. what you do not expect is the loud snort that he lets out like you just said the most hilarious thing ever.

he looks at you again with the neighbor-lady pose and a surprised smile on his lips. “you want me to help you?”

you shrug, admittedly a little bit embarrassed at the condescending tone he’s using. you feel like a child before him, and in terms of years on this earth you probably are. “well-” you point at the furniture you just dropped down the stairs ”-the bed is not going to bring itself up the stairs and we clearly established that i’m not physically capable of doing it alone, so…”

he cocks his head and blinks blankly at you.

“you want me to say please? because i will-”

“say please.” he cuts you off and graces you with a smug smirk.

it’s hard to be annoyed when his voice sends a weird shiver down your back. “please, will you be so generous and help me bring the heavy stuff up these ridiculously steep stairs? like really, why are they so-”

“yes, dear neighbor. i will help you. thank you for asking so nicely.” and before you can say anything else, he’s already picking up the bed structure and carrying it up to your apartment without breaking as much as a sweat, and you’re left to stare at him at the bottom of the stairs, dumbfounded and admittedly a little attracted to this weird man too.

in no time the unsurprisingly strong vampire has managed to clear the street of your possessions and is now awkwardly standing in the middle of your small apartment, seemingly waiting for you to send him on his way.

“everything is here,” you state matter-of-factly, nibbling nervously at your lower lip and rocking on the balls of your feet.

he nods his head once and when you don’t say anything else, he looks at you with confused eyes. “do you need me for anything else or…?”

you’re quick to shake your head and offer him a thankful smile. “thank you, though.”

“no problem.” another beat of weird silence. “then i’ll… i’ll go,” he bids you a polite goodbye and starts walking to the door before you stop him with a shy hand on his cold forearm and a look that’s hopefully conveying how truly thankful you are for his help. without him you would still be sitting on the stairs wallowing in self-pity, waiting for a tired seonghwa to put you back in a tranquil state of mind.

“hey, i just wanted to- i really am sorry, okay? for waking you up, i mean, but i really hate summer and- and my friend seonghwa says i’m dumb, and he’s right because why the hell did i even try to drag the bed up the stairs alone? but he says that i have a problem with logical thinking and that i do stupid shit because of that, so maybe that’s why…? and he also says i’m a public danger and that i don’t read social cues, and that i say things to people and don't even realize it and- and i asked if you were a vampire and maybe i offended you and-”

“sounds like a shitty friend to me.” the cute smile on his lips makes you literally melt where you stand, and you’d be at a loss for words if you didn’t have a best friend whose reputation you have to save just after ruining it.

“no! i swear he’s the best! he’s- he's my voice of reason and- you know what, you should meet him, look i’ll call him now.” you reach for your phone in the pack pocket of your pants.

“YN.”

you stop halfway through clicking on seonghwa’s contact. “yes?”

he laughs a little. “it’s really not that deep, okay? i was just tired and i made it bigger than it actually is. so you don’t have to worry about it, and please don’t call your friend.”

“okay…”

a small satisfied nod, and he’s ready to go back to sleep, hopefully before the day ends.

“wait!”

he turns around yet again. his furrowed eyebrows and the small pout of curiosity on his mouth make you want to touch his face, just to feel if it’s soft or not. 

“do you… do you want to stay? i have blood if you want.”

he chokes on spit and you bite your cheeks to keep from bursting out laughing.

when he’s back to functioning normally he considers the invitation and nods slowly, following you to the small kitchen table he just took up the stairs.

he sits on one of the two chairs and looks at the almost empty refrigerator. some bags of blood, a carton of almond milk, and some weird bottles that san thinks he's seen before at hongjoong's place, the witch usually brewing the potions to help with his friends' hangovers. just who are you friends with? 

“how did you even bring the fridge here?”

you put a full glass of red liquid with a bright yellow straw in front of him. “it was already here when i came to take a look around. did your apartment not have one?”

he hums to confirm while taking a small box out of the pocket of his hoodie, and you can’t contain the amused gasp you let out.

“do you have fake fangs?!”

he puts something in the box and closes it, glaring at you with an offended hand on his chest. “my fangs are very much real, thank you. this is just my retainer.”

your laugh comes out before you can stop it, and he just sits there, in your packed apartment, a hurt frown on his pale face, aggressively sipping blood like a wronged child. 

san knows you hate summer, but he’s happy that sakura miyawaki decided to find happiness in july.

SECOND SUMMER TOGETHER.

“hwa, i swear i’m okay, alright? it was a busy day at work and i forgot to charge it. i’m sorry i didn't answer your calls. i know you were worried.” phone balanced between your right cheek and shoulder, you maddeningly fish for your keys in your work bag to unlock the entrance door of the old, silent building.

it’s almost one in the morning, the family with the little kid on the fourth floor and the two old couples on the first have been asleep for at least three hours, and you’re trying to keep your late-night noises to a minimum, climbing the stairs on your tiptoes and being careful to not let your keychain clang against the metal railing. 

when you reach the second floor and you realize that you forgot your very late dinner in your car parked fifteen minutes away because you couldn’t find a spot near the apartment, that’s when your resolve crumbles under the stress and the tiredness, taking you with it in the process. 

with a quick, strangled goodbye to seonghwa, you hang up the phone and loudly plop down on the last step of the first floor, just in front of a familiar door. head in your hands, tears of frustration collecting on your lower lash line. 

to say that you’re ready to give up would be an understatement.

if someone had told you you’d be going to university in the morning, work the first job after lunch, study, and then work your second job till after midnight and still not be able to pay rent without delays, you wouldn't have moved out of sakura’s apartment. hell, maybe you wouldn’t have moved out of your childhood home.

that’s actually a lie and you know it but these last few horribly hot and humid days have been making you question if you actually are as strong as you’ve always thought yourself to be. forgetting dinner in the car was just the last, short straw, that caused the tolerance for the frantic pace you’ve been living at to overflow, drowning you in doubts and paranoia. 

you hear the door behind you slowly open but your head remains in your hands while tears silently make their way down your reddened cheeks.

“hey, baby.”

you let yourself smile through the pain at his calm voice and silly pet name you love to hate.

“hi, sannie…”

“are you okay?”

still not looking at him, you slowly shake your head no, missing the fond look that takes on his features. 

“what’s the problem?”

you scoff. your life right now is just a bunch of problems in a trenchcoat, where do you even begin to tell him what’s wrong?

“if you turn me into a vampire do you think it’ll count as dying according to my life insurance policy?”

he laughs while leaning his side against the door frame, arms crossed and defined biceps standing out in his ‘this is the skin of a killer’ tank top…?

“what are you w-”

“i lost a bet to yeosang.” he closes his eyes in embarrassed contemplation.

“what-”

“i don’t want to talk about it.”

you raise your hands in defeat, biting your lower lip to suppress a laugh. your exhausting frustrations are almost completely forgotten. “okay… killer.”

he groans loudly. “look, i was going to ask you if you wanted to talk about it but apparently bullying me is all it takes to feel better.”

you chuckle. “for being centuries old you sure are such a baby, sannie. yes, i want to talk about it, maybe just not where we can wake everyone up?”

he throws one last glare at you before turning and inviting you into his home. “did you have dinner?”

you take off your shoes and unceremoniously drop yourself on the fancy couch in his big living room. “nope. that’s one of the reasons i was crying, actually.”

without saying anything he gets to work at the stove he apparently uses just for you. “don’t they let you eat before you start your shift? i heard you talking to seonghwa.”

“were you eavesdropping, sannie?”

he shrugs. “i hear everything that happens here. i can’t just plug my ears every time someone’s on the phone.”

you chuckle at his old man antics. “they’d let me eat but i barely make it on time every day. i go there directly from the library, i just don’t have time.”

a small hum to signal that he’s listening.

“the problem is,” you start, popping your head from behind the headrest of the couch to look at him work his magic on your food, “that even if i kill myself at work every damned day, i’m still not able to live without worries. if i want to eat i can’t pay rent on time, and it’s fucking tiring.”

“stop renting and just buy.”

silence. 

you stare at the back of his head, and he must notice because he turns around with a questioning look on his face. “what?”

“‘just buy’? really?” you deadpan, “respectfully and all, but when you bought this apartment they were still using goats to buy stuff, san. that’s why you live in a huge ass house while i barely can afford a glorified closet.”

he turns to his stove muttering under his breath that he’s ‘not that old’.

you plop back down on the soft cushions. “i just want to be able to live the life i know i am worthy of. i work hard, i study hard, and i can’t even sleep without being scared of getting thrown out on the streets. and on top of that, my AC is not working and every time i step foot into that nightmare of an apartment i’m always on the verge of throwing myself out the fucking window.” you take a deep breath to calm yourself down. “i just wish something deus ex machina-style would happen to me to get me out of this misery.”

“you could come live with me.”

san hears you fall off the couch and on your ass.

“what?”

he switches off the stove and walks to his mahogany table at the center of the room, telling you that dinner is ready.

“i have a lot of spare rooms. you could come to live here, start saving some money for the life everyone who loves you knows you deserve.”

he always speaks like everything is so simple and while after you just met him it was sure to make your blood boil, over time it has become something to help you ground yourself when you feel you’re starting to spiral. 

“i- but you’ve lived alone for so much time maybe-”

“maybe it’s time to switch it up, don't you think? besides, i like spending time with you and you have a concerning amount of blood coming directly to your door every friday, so if it makes you feel better i’m also taking advantage of you a little.”

you snort loudly, a moved blush creeping up on your still tear-stained cheeks. “i don’t know what to say, sannie.”

he smiles at you. his dimples seem to melt your resolve every time.“then shut up and come eat before it gets cold or i’m gonna give it to you for breakfast when you wake up tomorrow.”

“i’m coming, wait a second…”

he curiously watches as you quickly type on your phone. “are you telling seonghwa?”

you shake your head without looking at him. “asking yeosang if he has another one of those shirts.”

he throws a napkin at you while grumbling something about ‘regret’ and ‘welcoming a bully into his home’.

san knows you hate summer and his AC works perfectly so it was just logical to have you move in. right? 

THIRD SUMMER TOGETHER.

you huff loudly, putting on every single piece of silver jewelry you own for your date night with your boyfriend —your dramatic flare making you dig for the accessories in the far back of your closet where you hid them when you started going out with him almost a year ago— and even if you’re not moving much, you can feel a sticky film of sweat start to form on the many exposed parts of your body that your clothes don't leave up to the imagination. 

“babe. c’mon.” san deadpans from the door of your shared bedroom; a safe distance between him and the threat your accessories pose to him. his hands propped on his waist and a cute pout frowning his pretty lips. 

you don’t acknowledge him in the slightest, and he closes his eyes solemnly; your lucky guess is that he’s counting to ten in his head just like how you taught him to do when he gets angry at wooyoung’s stupid teasing. then he speaks slowly, carefully, “so… just to check, you know… you’re angry at me because-”

before he can finish you snap your head in his direction with an unbelieving look. your earrings catch the light from the lamp in front of you and you can see san glare at them with not-so-subtle disdain. “san!”

his arms shoot up from his hips and his shoulders tense up in an exaggerated shrug. “what?! i just want to understand! are you going to blame me for it?!”

“fuck yes i am! it’s been a week, san! i’ve been talking about tomorrow for a week, and you don’t even remember?! how am i supposed to take it?!”

“okay, but what is tomorrow?!”

“just say you’re sorry!”

he dramatically gasps, holding a hand to his chest in offense, and you have to roll your eyes because you know that from his stubborn point of view, you just asked the unimaginable. 

you just told him to walk in the sun without his protective amulet; you ordered him to feed on a puppy; you had the nerve to ask him if he could sell his original pikachu illustrator pokemon card for you to buy other silver jewelry. you horrible, beautiful creature, how could you. 

“i don’t know what i’m supposed to be sorry for! i can’t apologize every time someone tells me to! i have a reputation!”

you scoff while applying your mascara in the mirror. “yeah, the reputation of being insufferable,” you mutter under your breath.

“i heard tha-”

“oh, i know! of course, you heard that, but apparently, you didn’t hear what i have been annoying all our friends with for a full week. even mingi knows what tomorrow is!”

he raises a finger, clearly offended by the fact that mingi of all people, stands on a step above him in your imaginary staircase of respect, and is about to say something before he just stops, lips in a thin line and eyebrows in a confused frown. 

you look at him as he mentally scrambles to find in his vast memories what exactly you're talking about, and you can’t stop yourself from thinking that he looks so cute, flustered like this. not an immortal being at all. you do your best to suppress a smile. 

after all, you physically need to keep playing with him a little more.

you’re not really that upset with him if you have to be completely honest. tomorrow is not as important as you’re making it out to be, but your fatal flaw is pettiness and you’ll die on the hill you’re finally standing on. you’ve been waiting so long for him to be the one to forget something important it’s not even funny at this point.

since you’ve met the vampire, you’re the only one who’s ever had to apologize and beg for forgiveness for missing "important" dates like his death anniversary (you weren’t even together at the time! who just remembers something like that!?), his party for the 233rd year from the french revolution (...), and your third monthiversary (in your defense you didn’t even know it was a thing), and he has always looked at your internal panic with the fakest annoyance and a small, smug smile. 

he loved and still loves watching you come up with dumb excuses, and you just want- no, you need to feel what it’s like to possess such immense power.

while he contemplates all the choices that led him to this exact moment, you finish getting ready —spraying the expensive perfume he got you for your birthday— and wait for him to say something, anything. your arms crossed and an expectant expression on your blushed face.

one more minute of waiting and he sighs exasperatedly, his head shaking slightly in resignation. “alright, look–” arms reaching in your direction and palms out, you know from the soft smile that plays on his rosy lips, that he’s ready to make you win this time– “i’ll try harder to remember after dinner. you’re right, and i’m sorry for forgetting something important to you.” 

victory.

he moves to gently unclasp your crossed arms, and you barely manage to escape his touch with an alarmed expression.

“what? what is it? i said i’m sorry.” he looks so lost and so cute you want to forget the date and cuddle him till one of you falls asleep. but you opt for an airy laugh and start taking off your jewelry.

“i've got silver all over me, sannie. apparently, not even that can keep you away, uh?”

he cackles, and once you’re free from the shackles that keep you away from him, he doesn’t waste time hugging your waist, effectively gluing you to his body. “oh, but baby, what’s a little pain compared to how much i already burn for you? i’d endure hell and what comes after that, marry you in a church if it meant i’d be able to hold you like this forever.”

stupid san and his old-man slick talk. stupid san and his honeyed, deep voice. stupid san and his love declarations on friday evenings after you fake-fight and makeup.

you hide your face in his neck. your blush creeps from your cheeks down your neck, and your next words are small, shyly mumbled against his cold skin that’s giving you some needed, sweet relief from the hot, humid air sticking to your skin and making you go crazy. “stop… we’re gonna be late for dinner…” 

he chuckles, places one swift kiss on your forehead, and lets you go, albeit reluctantly. “speaking of which. what are we eating?”

“italian.” you run past him and out of your bedroom with a high-pitched giggle before you can see the bewildered and seriously affronted look on his handsome face.

“ARE YOU STILL ANGRY AT ME?! TALK TO ME!”

san knows you hate summer just like he can’t physically stand garlic so he doesn’t take well to your teasing. 

FOURTH SUMMER TOGETHER.

san knows you hate summer and you love him. 

he wishes it could be summer all year long so you’d always look for his cold body when you can’t fall asleep during hot nights and hum in contempt as he mindlessly caresses your face. when it’s winter he wishes summer could come faster so he can finally feel the years pass. so he can finally see you grow and flourish and become more beautiful every time the earth does another lap around the sum. 

san knows you hate summer but he looks at you strangling his body in your hold like your life depends on it, and he can't help but thank fate or whatever it was that made you drop your bed down the stairs four years ago. he thanks seonghwa for bailing on you. he thanks you for being so enticingly weird and having friends who are just like him.

san knows you hate summer but another year with you adds another sweet and sweaty meaning to his immortal existence. 

[hongtiddiez]

bake me please finale thoughts, feelings, etc.

normally i only break down whole eps for last twilight but this finale sure is. a finale. definitely is one of those.

this shit with the social media feels very dramatic for some cakes. like??? listen, i work in social media for a small company, this year we had something VERY major fuck up one of our shipments, but even with that huge fuck up no one responded even close to this lmao. this is ridiculous and overly dramatic - which like, i know the show has been, but this just felt dumb.

well that's not true, you just had a whole fit last episode about how Sweetheart managed to rip off your recipe, so like... someone is definitely making that cake, bud. i don't get his obsession with the torta caprese, you are not the only one capable of making it. make a fucking croquembouche and then i'll be impressed.

and once again Peach saves the fucking day. how did any of you live without him? like honestly, the amount of physical and emotional labor Peach takes on is INSANE. why is he the most well adjusted person in a group of 5 adult men? i'm begging you all to pass the singular brain cell you share around.

not that Peach is perfect, because he then lies to Guy, says he has the flu, and expects Guy not to show up and try to take care of him? buddy Guy is besotted with you, he cried because you were crying, of course he's going to try and come take care of you.

so here's something i liked about this conversation - that there was a conversation. Guy found out Peach lied, Peach apologized, and they talked it through. not all of Guy's responses were perfect but he listened and he didn't shout or lash out. he took time to hear Peach and understand what was going on.

and instead of shouting, he tells Peach to go.

so there's absolutely a parallel here to draw between Shin telling Guy not to come back and Guy telling Peach not to come back - just like Shin, Guy is hurting. he doesn't want Peach to go, doesn't want to say goodbye, but he knows that's what Peach wants and he's willing to let him go. the difference comes in that this is very likely also the perfect opportunity for Guy to seek some distance. he's recently been rejected by Peach and knows there's no place for his feelings with Peach, so it would be better for them both if they can have that space.

he communicates it in a way that's better than Shin, without the shouting and the hurt and the insult, just a quiet resignation. and you see Peach isn't that upset, not even half as upset as Guy was when Shin said the very same thing to him - because Sweetheart isn't where Peach wants to be and both he and Guy know that.

WELL THIS WOULD HAVE BEEN NICE INFORMATION TO HAVE IN EPISODE 1. so Shin, Oab, and Guy started Temptation together and were all shareholders, which is both pretty impressive and makes Guy leaving all the more tragic. i can get why Shin was so hurt, but Guy's hurt is amplified as well because he went into a business with his friends and was sidelined, essentially.

i am so glad to see him come home, though. what Guy shows us is sometimes you need space and time to gather your thoughts, feelings, and gain perspective on what matters most to you. after everything Guy still came back because this place and these people are his home.

"My ego is not as important as this shop and all our efforts."

wow what a mature thing to say, amazing. what a concept. Why the fuck wasn't Guy our main.

okay, I know I'm on my Guy soapbox, I'll get off it soon, but just - Guy being the one to take Peach back to Shin? what the FUCK. it hurts. it hurts so bad. he literally takes Peach by the hand and leads him back to Shin so they can reconcile. from his earlier talk with Shin he knows he feels bad, he knows he misses Peach, and from Peach's rejection he knows Peach misses Shin. he puts all of his own love and feelings aside to bring them back together. i know he did some shady and petty shit but he really is the Guy (lol) of all time.

the fact that Shin apologizes better to Guy than to Peach drives me up a wall. Shin talks to Peach about not being firm enough and being impatient or whatever and it's like CAN YOU JUST SAY YOU'RE SORRY? i'm begging you to apologize for not listening, for calling his dream stupid, etc. NOT FOR NOT BEING FIRM ENOUGH WHAT THE FUCK IS THAT?

NO. ANGRY BUZZER NOISE. NOPE. PEACH YOU DID NOTHING WRONG. YOU COMMUNICATED ALMOST THE ENTIRE TIME UNTIL YOU FELT LIKE YOU COULDN'T ANYMORE. YOU PUT THAT 'WE' BACK IN YOUR MOUTH.

their reconciliation just felt so weird, like Shin never apologizes for FUCKING CALLING PEACH'S DREAM STUPID like??? hello? i would not be able to move past that, myself. dreams are all we have in this shitty difficult world and then you're gonna insult someone's dream? get fucked.

okay i'll admit i did REALLY like the parallels of these two scenes, this was very sweet and well done. and that sassy look between Guy and Oab - i'll be a GuyPeach bitch until i die but it was very cute and very suggestive.

i am not buying this for an instant though, from Guy or Oab. i think they both loved Peach and Shin very much, but saying this might make moving on easier for them both. i don't know what world Guy lives in but crying because Peach is crying? that's not something you do for a simple crush. rushing to his house because you heard he was sick? not crush behavior. but whatever makes it easier to move on babes.

having the family reunited after all of this feels so fucking good, though. i'm going to talk about this a lot more later but they're my comfort idiots, your honor.

AND GRANDMA SURVIVED TO THE END!! WE DID IT!!! HELL YEAH!!

alright since this is basically the end i'm just going to talk about the things i liked and didn't like about this show and the ending. i haven't read anyone else's posts because i really didn't want to be influenced and i'm glad i sat with my thoughts for a bit.

what i really enjoyed about Bake Me Please is the warmth of it all and the aesthetics. there are so many beautiful shots in this show it's almost like a work of art. they do so much with light, framing, the food, etc. it really is a delight to watch. the plot was fine, a little rushed at times but that's to be expected with 6 episodes, it wasn't anything special and it wasn't terrible - it just was. i think @mikuni14 really said it the best that one of the most charming things about Bake Me Please is that each character feels like a real person you could come across in your day to day life and this is both for better or for worse, because sometimes people are so frustrating. they don't feel like characters or caricatures but actual fleshed out people and i love that, because i would sometimes forget i was watching a show.

another thing i loved from BMP is Atom and Oab's relationship. it's so easy for shows to make brothers rivals, to pit them against each other, but Atom and Oab have so much love and support for each other and it was so refreshing to see. Atom doesn't want to work at a bakery but he does it for Oab because he loves him and wants to help him - and Oab knows he doesn't want to work there and is doing it in part because of their mother and promises to help and support Atom when he does find his dream. i could watch an entire show just about the two of them, i really fell in love with their love for each other.

i also very much appreciated the reunion and the way they all came back together as a family. they're a collection of broken pieces and i suppose Peach has become to glue to hold them together (though i wish he didn't have to be.) the atmosphere of the bakery is completely changed, there's palpable joy in the environment, and hopefully they can continue this feeling.

now what didn't i like? Shin and Peach's entire relationship feels like such an emotional weight thrust onto Peach's shoulders. at every turn it's up to Peach to draw Shin out of his shell, to mend missteps, to learn how to navigate around Shin, and it feels like Peach dancing with a brick wall rather than the two of them waltzing together. i didn't really find them getting together all that satisfying, especially not once they'd slept with each other. i will say, all of this did put an spotlight on how important communication is in relationships, so for nothing else i suppose there is that.

i guess it's not just Peach either, though. the emotional weight of Shin and his attitude and hang ups is really put on everyone else and very, very, VERY fucking rarely does Shin ever take any PROPER responsibility for that. he says a few sorries, not as many as he should imo, and everyone just moves on.

this isn't just me shitting on Shin, though. i really didn't like the constant referring to Shin as heartless. like, fuck, those are your friends!! the people you went into business with!! ouch!! so i can get why he was a dick sometimes but you cannot go through your whole ass adult life acting like that to everyone. and we do see he has a few wake up calls, especially when encountering Oab's mom.

which brings me to my next gripe - i hope that woman explodes. they showed us quite a bit of her and her shitty attitude and all of that led nowhere. i'm not saying i needed some great sob story of her realizing all the pressure she was putting on her kids, etc. i just wish we'd seen.. more, i guess. even if it wasn't resolved or there was no happy ending. generational trauma is such a hot topic these days and Asian families arguably suffer from it more than others. it would have been nice to see some of that explored and seen Oab be less of a doormat - or at least take steps in that direction.

i also wish we'd seen more development between Guy and Oab rather than just these little crumbs at the end. i can't help but feel like they were two consolation prizes just coming together because why not? and it's like, i don't know, i'd rather see something form slowly over time and maybe before the finale - like simultaneous with them dealing with their feelings for Shin and Peach maybe they also struggle with some burgeoning feelings for each other. i think that's the only reason i can't get into them too much, there's just nothing there for me to really latch onto emotionally.

finally, i'm disappointed Peach's dream is never addressed. sure, they sell his grandma's cakes in the shop now - but those are the cakes that inspired SHIN. everything is once again about SHIN. how is Shin supporting Peach? what is Peach's current trajectory towards his dream? it's giving woman with high aspirations gets married and becomes a house wife while her husband gets all the glory. yuckers.

sometimes the show also just kind of felt like one big excuse to make their music videos. the videos are good! i listened to Poom's on repeat today, but idk. i just wonder why this show was made. what message were they trying to convey? i get not all media has to be this big, deep thing but i just really feel like i missed the why here. maybe it was just to enjoy the aesthetics, the music, and have something short and low key? and if that's the case it did really nail it!

all in all, i'm not upset i watched it, Chef Guy will always have an incredibly special place in my blorbo heart, and i would recommend it for anyone who might want a short, casual palatte cleanser show between heavier shows (i know it has been a great break in my week between all the heavy shows airing right now)

i think we can all agree Poom was the best thing to come out of this show and it was a great way to showcase his exceptional acting skills and put him on our radar. i cannot wait to see more of him in the future.

i hope you guys have enjoyed the gifsets and my rambling, i'm smooching you all, and have a happy holidays!

meta tag loves: @callipigio

[ssvnormandysr-1]

one thing larian did and did really well is not romanticizing the end result of pursuit of ambition, or the erasure & denial of one's true self. The result is shown as pathetic, sad, and hilariously heartbreaking. This is shown especially well in Astarion & Gale's case.

Gale, in his god form, is honestly pretty insufferable. On the surface, it's easy to think that he's the same old guy with jokes and all but in every sentence, you can see him demeaning the mortal lives, the material plane, his superiority complex, etc.

The dude's been a god for 6 months and apparently forgot what faerun smells like, saying it 'cannot be compared to the aromas of Elysium' (this is shown when you play as his origin). He goes around to his companions and essentially in a roundabout way, begs for them to pray to him. when as a player you ask him 'you didn't dethrone Mystra? that's not very ambitious' he gets defensive by basically saying 'well i didn't say I'm giving up.' The devnote for this section says 'torn between the need to refute your accusation and knowing that doing so would be a terrible, terrible idea' - he's afraid but too proud to admit it because he does not want to be seen as weak. In his origin he can tell minthara that he can smite her, to which she replies 'better gods than you have tried.' Fucking owned. His idea of helping mortals is turning some mage's book to a helpful page. It's a fucking joke. All of these are a very hilarious and pathetic and so sad as we are witnessing his ego death in real time. There's nothing cool or awe-inspiring about who he has become. And i love that.

I think this might also be why in the epilogue he was alive and not smitten to pieces by mystra. Challenging Mystra directly and dying? now that's pretty cool shit. He may have failed but he still flew to the sun and shot his shot. few mortals can claim to have tried to both bed and behead the goddess of magic herself. But staying alive because he actually fears mystra and therefore taking the loophole to create his own domain? displaying his twisted heart for everyone to see and pity? for us to see that the true result of ambition is becoming this petty and narrow-minded? now that's just sad and pathetic. I love that.

[christinesficrecs]

Hii I love your fic recs!! Can you recommend me some sterek fics with soft derek? Mostly canon or canon complient ? But alternate universe is fine too.

Hii can you please recommend me some soft derek/ maybe feminine derek fics. I just really want to read some soft derek fics.

Let me just say, I mostly had no idea where to go with this. 🤦🏻‍♀️ Also, I did restrain myself from making this nothing but Derek + kittens fics. It was really hard though. 🥰

Kintsugi by artemis69 | 7.8K

Derek is too big, and strong, and a werewolf. He knows perfectly well what men are and aren’t allowed to be.

Stiles would beg to differ.

In which there are pretty boys, flowers, panties, glitter, and Stiles gives a heartfelt fuck you to the concept of toxic masculinity.

Kittens Can Happen to Anyone by tsukinofaerii | 3.8K

When Stiles shows up at Derek's door with a box of orphaned kittens, Derek has no idea what he's getting into. With the cats, either.

I'm Setting the Standard for Living a Dream by skoosiepants | 2.9K

Derek is scowling at the camera, Henley unbuttoned. He looks sleep-mussed and unamused and there are two fuzzy balls of floof cradled in his arms. One is pawing at Derek’s mouth, the other is asleep in the curve of his elbow. Both are stripy orange and fluffy-furred with pink noses and pink beans, they are so super cute it makes Stiles’s eyes water a little.

five times Derek and Stiles weren't actually boyfriends (and one time they were) by HalfFizzbin | 2.8K

In which Derek and Stiles are essentially a married couple. Except they're not actually dating.

i wait for you like a lonely house by bleep0bleep | 4.5K

Derek isn’t sure why he buys the house. He doesn’t need the space, that much is certain. While it’s not as big as the one Derek grew up in, something about the cheerful yellow paint and the wide staircase (with banisters wide enough for children to slide down) draws him in.

Wait by cutloosemcgoose | 23.4K | Explicit

Sitting on his couch, staring at the wall, it feels like Derek is watching his whole, miserable, lonely life flash before his eyes. He’s twenty four and he’s alone. No family, no friends, no real pack. He’s six days away from spending one of the most family-oriented holidays of the year trying to avoid any human interaction. If anyone could see him right now, they would tell him he looks pathetic. If Laura could see him right now, she would probably beat the crap of him and then tell him he’s a loser.

Babcia Knows Best by thepsychicclam | 11.8K

Stiles takes his grandmother to bingo every Thursday. Now there's a new guy calling out the numbers, and his grandmother has decided to set them up.

Somebody That I Used to Know by PercyByssheShelley | 10.3K | Mature

Stiles and Derek have been together for months.

The trouble is, they weren't yesterday.

36 Questions by Leslie_Knope | 8K

“So I’m doing my senior psych thesis on friendships,” Erica says, not-so-accidentally elbowing Derek in the ribs as she turns to face Stiles. “How they develop, how intimacy is fostered, stuff like that.”

“That’s cool,” Stiles says agreeably. “What’s our part?”

“Well, I can’t really tell you the point because that would influence the results. But it’s a set of 36 questions that you have to ask each other.”

“Just the two of us?” Derek chimes in, finally, and Stiles sighs.

“Okay, dude,” he says, making a face, “could you try not to look quite so offended? Like, my ego’s pretty strong, but come on, man.”

Not Quite Lost (Not Quite Found) by alocalband | 25K | Explicit

A year after the nogitsune is defeated, Derek is living a quiet life in the mountains above a small town in Colorado.

Then Stiles shows up.

Maybe Someday (I'll Be Home For Next Year) by ofherlionheart | 16.3K

Derek Hale meets a Mabel Stilinski while living in New York. He learns that she has a grandson. There are miscommunications, scarves, stealth-matchmaking plans, and cookies. Many, many cookies.

[onboardsorasora]

Danni!!! Okay of course first I am here to give you these 💐💐💐 because you deserve them for every single fic you write and especially for Reclamation!!! 🫶🏼 I was wondering if you could give a little peek into what happens after the ending! Not a full blown 10k work or anything but just some thoughts like…what is the wedding like? Where do they live after? Do they eventually have kids? Do sewis have kids? Anything else you wanna add! 🫶🏼

Oh Isabel thank you for thisssss!!!!🫶🏾🫶🏾🫶🏾🫶🏾🫶🏾 I had so much fun thinking of these! I could go on forever lmao. Here are some post Reclamation headcanons, I'll put them after the cut😅😅 I still can't believe its over🥹🥹🥹🥹

They get married at the Verstappen estate. Daniel wanted to elope so they didn't have to plan anything but Sophie insisted and called up Grace and they pulled rank. They have a garden party in the sprawling grounds. It's very classy. Isabella, Isaac, Luka and Lio are stinkin’ cute. 

Max and Daniel go off to fuck twice. The first time was handys after their first look (Charles reminded them that they’d have blowjob lips in all their pictures otherwise. Max thought that was a good idea, Jules vetoed). The second time they go to fuck is during the reception after the first dance because Daniel whispered in Max’s ear that he was wearing a special (and pretty) plug.

Daniel changes outfits three times because of course he would. His final late night reception party shirt was actually a tasteful pattern this time but if you looked closely (and only 3 people did) you’d see that the outline design was actually cocks with a ring on them 😊.

Carlos is there as a friend and Charles' date. They finally got together. Pierre is there with a new girlfriend. A different girl from the yacht party who was also a different girl from the engagement party. She's only in one group picture because no one trusts that she'll last longer than a few more weeks.

They live in the penthouse for a bit then they buy a house in the hills with a view of the city and the ocean. Daniel categorically will not move back into the estate and Max has no problems there. They get one more cat– a compromise because Max wanted a dog (since they now have a yard) and Daniel said no and sucked his dick so he'd stop bringing it up. This happens twice before Max actually does stop bringing it up because he doesn’t want to get pavloved into getting hard when thinking about dogs 🫣

They do have a daughter eventually, but like after a good while of just being married and having each other again. They have a lot of time to make up for!

Sewis absolutely has kids. They have three little gremlins! Twin girls and a sweet little boy. The middle daughter is soooo bossy like both her dads. She bosses Blake around and has him wrapped around her finger. She was the only one who didn’t cry when he first met her– she actually went to sleep, and that was during the colic phase so Sewis begged him to come over often since he seemed to be the only one to get her to rest. 

When Jules gets married, Daniel goes all out with the planning. Jules is exasperated as fuck but he lets Daniel have this because he knows his bestie is trying to ‘repay him’. Which they’ve spoken argued about but Daniel needs Jules to know how much he loves and appreciates him forever and ever til the end of time. They ended each wedding planning email with ‘fuck off’ and Jules’ said ‘fuck of please/respectfully/categorically/emphatically’. Daniel cackles each time.

Max and Daniel do not go off to fuck at Jules’ wedding. Not because of respect or anything so silly. But Daniel essentially made himself the wedding planner's assistant so he literally couldn’t step away. Charles laughed at Max’s grumblings. The wedding was gorgeous.

They still go to the cabin as often as possible. Daniel bought more land around it and they built another, bigger cabin so that the entire group plus spouses and all the kiddies can be comfortable. None of Pierre’s girlfriends have been to the cabin.

[whump-captain]

ok now im curious, i wanna know about bianca!

Omg yes thank u for emabling me i love her so much

So my favourite thing about Bianca is that she dies an awful death pretty early on in the story and she's also the only character who gets what she had wanted throughout it.

Basically I made her when i decided that i wanted to make Kintsugi into a proper novel and realized that i needed a stronger character motivation for Ethan ("curiosity about weird island" was enough for whump shorts but for feature-length i wanted something more defined lol). Since a big inspiration for it were survival horror games (Silent Hill, Dead Space, RE7) and all the lads in these always seem to be looking for someone, I decided to go with that as well: when Ethan crashes on the Weird Island™, he's not alone but accompanied by Bianca. When he wakes up, she's gone, and so he has to find her. Who exactly she is to him has gone through a Bunch of rewrites but i feel like i've finally arrived at an iteration that i really like (and one that doesn't just make her an accessory to the male protag's plot).

Essentially, Bianca should be the protagonist of the story. The alien entity hiding on the island and fucking everything up around the narrative? She's encountered it before and she was forever changed by it, dedicating her whole life to finding it. She has a whole plan, a whole conspiracy plot going on before the novel even begins and all of it gets thrown out of whack when Ethan does something fairly shitty to her that puts all of her life's work in danger. So obviously she tries to murder him.

She only doesn't succeed because the boat crashes but like, that's where she wants to be. That's where the alien is, that's where she can find what she's looking for! And she dies as she finds it! And that's a Good thing, somehow! The happenings on the island upend and ruin the lives of everyone involved with them Except for Bianca whose life is put back on track. In a different story, it would have been an inciting incident for her journey but we're in survival horror and so we follow Ethan who has no business being there whatsoever and for whom everything gets worse.

And like!! His whole Thing, his entire driving force as he crawls through horror after horror, is to find Bianca and apologize to her. The Second he wakes up after the crash he realizes he has Fucked Up and that while she very much owes him an explanation for trying to kill him, he owes her an apology just as much. He has put her future in jeopardy and he won't rest until he makes that right! And he never gets to!

And Bianca doesn't care!! She gets exactly what she wants and her story is complete all the while everyone else's stories are going entirely to shit. She thanks Ethan at the end, all her dreams fulfilled. She's decomposing alive as she does that.

The reader barely even finds out what the hell her deal is!! She's actually present for like 3 scenes bc we're mostly with Ethan who sees her once at the beginning when she has a gun to her head and once towards the end when he begs her not to succumb to what to him is a fate worse than death. It would be a fate worse than death to literally Anyone except Bianca bc she has something fuckin Going On!! And maybe half of it is ever explained, all of it too late to save her!

Fuckin. epitome of Good For Her™. Girl had a goal and she Achieved it!! Should she have? Probably not! But she's literally the only character in the story who isn't left among the ruins of their life so like she's having a better time than all of them lot!

[zorkaya-moved]

@impishsensei asked:

"i had it under control. you didn't need to do that."

Sure, he did have it under control. Under his control, whatever it would mean.

However, Zarina understands quite sharply how political talk is not Satoru's strongest trait. He isn't the user of manipulative and underhanded tactics, she doesn't think he would ever need that. Not that she doesn't think he is intelligent, she simply he thinks he never needed to care about that and that's just how he lives. An admirable path, no questions about and no sarcasm, but it's not what she needed at that moment. He is far above what others think of him, but that's not what is important to her. It's essential to keep her reputation of a spoiled woman who is known to be shallow and rich, indulgent and depraved. It's not like she's not, but exaggeration of spoiled and shallow traits is certainly far and beyond reality.

"Can't believe his combined audacity and idiocy. I'm used to hearing it but to think they'll speak to you face to face while I step away," Zarina mutters as she finally lets go of Gojo's arm, the one she's been hugging while they were walking off. The words spoken by that man were borderline ridiculous. "I know you've had it under control, Gojo, but I don't want to take chances with your unpredictability in this case. I'm simply flabbergasted they would say that to your face like you're fucking stupid."

Well, Gojo-san, you are the strongest. Must be the reason she begged to be your ally but to think you accepted it? Are you growing softer? Well, she does have a pretty face, very pretty indeed. Guess even you would be swayed, or did she meet your high standards? But really, did she sell herself out to you? Is she as good as she looks?

As she fixes her hair, Zarina glances at Satoru to see if she can catch any expression changes. Then again, not seeing his eyes does sometimes make it a bit harder than others. It's obvious that many did not believe their alliance was based on any sort of equality. It combines mostly her reputation alongside his own. As he is loudly arrogant, she is loudly playful. She knows many think she's the one who begged for an alliance, not even thinking that it was offered from Gojo's side. They all would write it out as 'she likes his face' or 'well, as much as she is shallow, it must also be because Gojo's the strongest, right?'. The higher ups didn't think that, but the vast majority? Sure did. As intended.

"Before you ask, I'm not correcting them. Let them think less of me for a while. Not like I don't add fuel to the fire specifically for that," she gives him a smirk, one of a familiar confidence but also mixed with obvious sneer at those who speak like that. Sokolova shrugs, clearly unbothered by the words spoken and heard. "Don't need them to rely on me until I want them to. And," she looks at Satoru again, offering him more of a playful smile and then a wink. "Didn't really want to have you tell everyone around that I'm a goddess in a disguise, y'know. Can't have you ruin my shallow bitch reputation, I need that for now to be under the radar."

Then, her laughter echoes in the hallway they walk towards the exit.

[montanababe7]

Warning-there are a few cuss words in it:

Reading an inner healing book and this is what I wrote concerning my birth mother. It’s heavy. But, so needed and essential to get it off my chest for once and for all. This is what I’ve been holding on the inside for nearly 4 decades. It’s time. Thank you for listening🥲: A letter she’ll never see-

This is what you did to me-You wrecked my life. You controlled every aspect of every opportunity I wanted to have. I wasn’t allowed to grow up. You denied me access from knowing what it felt like to be beautiful, confident, and pretty. Even when I begged to go hang out with friends. You always told me you had to consult with sandy. But. How dare I even try to talk to my dad and even worse yet that I shouldn’t dare turn dad against you. It was like you hated me. You truly hated me. I don’t think I still even understand why you had pegged my life as being the most miserable life a woman could ever have. You stole my entire childhood away from me. The saddest part of all is, I honestly don’t even remember having a childhood to begin with. It’s like that long time period in my life didn’t even exist and it’s all your fault mom. No one else’s just yours. This is entirely your fault. You alone are to blame.

This is how I get about it at the time-

I didn’t understand why you’d deny me to even having a life. I felt so isolated and so broken. Even when I had tried to end my life. I didn’t even feel safe telling you about because I knew you’d have another reason to yell at me like you always did. It was always one thing after the other. Even the gifts you would give to me had strings attached to them. Nothing in my life felt like it was my own. I wanted to be an adult even in adulthood and the saddest part of it all. You wouldn’t even grant me that level of happiness. I saw my other siblings having a life. While I was rotting away at the hutch house always doing your housework for you. Fuck you mom. What did I ever do to deserve how you treated me. All I ever wanted was for you to love me. And the saddest part to my heart now. Is that I mentored and loved my spiritual children how I always dreamed you would have treated me. But. You didn’t. You didn’t love your own daughter enough to make me feel special or safe. How dare you. You called me your flower. I don’t think you even have the ability or capacity to treat even a real flower with kindness. Who am I even kidding. You’d love a flower in your own garden than you’d treat your own daughter. You verbally and emotionally trampled on me. You ruined my life. You destroyed my dreams. How the hell could you make a confident girl so afraid of succeeding; that she had even failed to driving fucking written test in Minnesota for 15-16 years. Do you even know how embarrassed and humiliated I when I’d fail each time. Do

You know what it felt like to be in my shoes.

I wanted to succeed; but back then I gave up because I didn’t see a point. You still

Had access to my checking and savings accounts while I was living in that house. That’s not normal or even ok. You called me

Your very best friend and that you couldn’t imagine life without me. You controlled my wedding day. You cried at the airport. You called and texted everyday. You sent me into severe post partum depression and I had wanted to end my life more than multiple times in that first year after Bella was born. You almost caused me to go into labor early at just 23-24

Weeks. And you wonder why Bella hates you and wants nothing to even do with you. Ahh!!!

This is how it affected my life-

I felt like I was a bad daughter and that you’d come to ground me even when you were over 1,000 miles away when I had first got married. I wanted to clean all the time and I felt guilty as a newly married bride if the apartment and multiple homes Michael and I, were living at wasn’t 100 clean. Your control turned me into an angry and pessimistic bitch who loved seeing those like yourself cry. I don’t even recognize me at times. Mike doesn’t even hardly know me anymore. Throughout the years I’ve been yelling at my in-laws and taking my anger out at them. They have some flaws of their own. But, it’s nothing compared to huge nightmares of the reality of you. I’ve been hurting my marriage by fighting with mike’s parents. I’ve embarrassed my husband. I’ve been negative and harsh with my own children. And it breaks my heart that I’ve shown my own spiritual children more

Grace and kindness at times

Than I have my own babies. I am so ashamed of myself. I don’t know to fix me expect

Through Jesus. You broke me mom. I should hate you. But, now I just pity you. I think somewhere along the way. All I wanted was to just hear you say that you love me. Without any strings attached. Without my hair being perfect and my eyebrows up to your liking. I just wanted you to love me for me. I always wanted your approval. I spent over five thousand dollars worth of credit. Card debt years ago on you and Kelli just got

You to love me. That I paid off. You never showed me genuine love. It always about what

You could get from me. I don’t think you ever truly ever loved me. You used me. And one day. I just stopped caring. I shut my heart off emotionally. I shut down. Why mom. Why.

Did you ever love

Your daughter at all. Or did you just love what I could do for you and make your look good in that town.

This is what I want from

You now-

I want you to stay the hell away from me. I want you to get help for your sake. I just want you to really look at yourself and see the 👹 that you truly are. Ask Jesus to change you. God knows that only Jesus can change you. You push everyone away and you wonder why all your bridges have been burned.

I forgive you and I am burying what i once dreamed I’d have-

A healthy mother daughter relationship with you. But that’s not reality. I’m done. No more. I’m done grieving. Just get help.

Jessica.

[metalheadsforblacklivesmatter]

I advise you not seek this content out. There's a reason I'm not linking it. It's full of abelism and gaslighting. But I just want to show you what I'm about to rant about because this woman is claiming chronic illness doesn't exist and women specifically are faking to get a diagnosis for attention. And she's claiming this is a mental health issue.

As a disabled person, I need to rant.

The first time I got a migraine. I was 10 years old. They were near constant. I know exactly how old I was because when I went to the doctor, he said it was probably the braces shifting the bones in my skull. They were called just headaches.

If you've ever had a migraine, you would understand that if you were experiencing this much pain, and you were told there was a way to make it stop, you GRAB that shit. I had my braces removed before my jaw was finished straightening because I shouldn't have had braces in the first place and my baby teen started falling out (very late, I know).

And when my adult teeth came in, I BEGGED my doctor to not give me braces again. And remember what I said earlier. If you're experiencing migraine level symptoms and you were told there was a way to make it stop. You grab that chance. Yes, my teeth are still fucked up. Yes, this leads to me dealing with chronic jaw pain.

You don't get how much pain I was in just... all the fucking time. My parents had to carry large bottles of advil with them at all times. Some of my earliest memories is being at a restaurant and my mom being like "I know this is weird but do you have any advil? I forgot to refill the bottle and my daughter is in too much pain to eat". Just from the migraine.

I was taking adult doses of pain meds with my doctors telling me to alternate Advil and Tylenol every 2 hours at the age of 10 (most meds say not for children under 12). Because migraine was not a diagnosis that existed.

When I was in high school, I finally did get a diagnosis from my PCP of "migraine". Idk if it ever went on the record but a was prescribed migraine medication. Which was essentially prescription strength advil and imitrex. There weren't exactly a lot of options back then.

And I again have specific memories of being in school. The ring of the fire alarm during a fire drill triggers a migraine. First thing I had to do when we went back in was go to the nurse and nurse had to call my parents and they had to bring my meds (special school rules the nurse needed the prescription bottle which would make it hard to have any at home). And the nurse was like "when's it gonna work?" And my mom was like "idk. If it does work it'll be like 30 minutes" and the nurse was like "Yeah we can't keep her here 30 minutes on a maybe. This is no place for a kid with a migraine. Take her home."

Throughout all this? I didn't consider myself disabled. Because I could still function. I wasn't missing too much school to pass. I was still able to pass my classes.

In college though it got really bad. I was missing 3 or 4 days of classes at a time because I couldn't hold down anything but water. There's weeks I did go to class that I just blacked it the pain was so bad. I got hurt from the vertigo regularly. It got so bad u finally sought it a migraine community just to try to understand what the hell was wrong with me and just so I had a place where I could vent. It sucked so damn bad.

And this community helped me immensely. They had a list of headache specialists which helped me find my doctor. They gave me a ton of treatment options to discuss with my doctor and they suggested vitamin supplements that I could also discuss with my doctor. It took a few years because I don't react to most common migraine meds, but a year out of college, I finally got a treatment plan that fucking helped. I live a pretty normal life now the only exception being the couple of hours it takes my meds to kick in.

And even through all of that, I hesitated to call myself disabled. I was still functional enough to graduate college without the ADA (but honestly I'd have done better if I had accommodations for all the time I had to miss). My migraines weren't frequent enough to be considered "chronic".

The only reason why I'm able to comfortably call myself disabled now is because of the invisible illness and spoonie communities. They were like "Your health issues impacting most of your life even though there's no physical symptoms? You keep missing important events duev to your health issues? You limiting what you do so to not impact your health issues? You're disabled."

Because I was so afraid of taking something away from physically disabled people by using the label. I'm still going to heavy metal concerts (yes they land me in bed for days after with a migraine). I can hold down a job and still semi-function (I'm privileged that I can get a remote job so if I can't get out of bed I don't need to call in. And I work for small companies that are more forgiving of health issues.)

Listen. I 100% believe in the spoonie movement with all my heart. But what people don't realize is that invalidating the spoonie movement invalidates people like me. People that have had pain since childhood that almost no medication can touch that's coupled with other neurological issues that is detrimental to our health. I was exercising every day, but I had to stop because there were too many days I couldn't hold down food. I was eating very healthy, but I had to stop because there were too many days where calories were more important than vitamins because again I was lucky if I could hold down food. The pain was so bad that there was gaps in my memory and I hurt myself but I couldn't remember how between the vertigo and the memory issues.

And yeah. My migraines don't affect me like that now. I'm on treatment where I don't "look disabled". I can function with the best of the abled people. But it took years of meds and trial and error with my doctor to get here. I'm functioning with the exact balance of person meds and activity levels to keep me found for the things I enjoy doing.

And I need people to realize that's what invisible disability is. Paralyzed person can't walk? They get a wheelchair. I can't go outside without spending the rest of my day bedbound from the bright light and heat? I get meds that help sooth the nervous system (honestly I don't know how the fuck my meds work but this is the equivalent of my "wheelchair")

Yeah! We look functional. That's the point. That's the entire point. Because before this we lost friends and failed classes because we couldn't get our of bed our body's failed us so hard. The only reason why abled people think we don't exist is because we literally couldn't leave the house. And online communities have allowed us to be seen on those worse days when we're normally hidden behind closed doors.

I was able to interact with people online yesterday with my migraine, when previously you wouldn't have been able to see that because I literally couldn't leave the house.

-fae