#like.. is this gonna be the strategy forever?? it's exhausting to do the whole 'but the republican guy is worse!' every. single. time.

[tidepoolalgae]

.

[taylortruther]

Yeah agree with the other anon 2016 was a "situation" that no one of us especially Taylor want to live through again.

Another thing is that her level of fame is just unmeasurable, not comparable to other celebs. Their stans can dissociate their arms and legs to reach saying someone other situation is even a little similar to Taylor, but it's NOT.

And this is scary! And I understand stans wanting to "protect" her, but by this they only can hurt her more.

What we can do? Just go with the flow, how I feel Taylor herself is doing, of course they are planing everything, like the Travis thing, all of it was planed out by her and her team, we need to trust it's a good strategy, and IF not and things will get to much, there is only one resolution: just log off..

because all of it, is just bigger then us, but on another hand every one one of us is also a small cog in this crazy ass wheel.

So here we are!

Not gonna lie I was in few/many fandoms over the years and I'm kinda intrigued what all of this that is happening around Taylor and in this fandom will take us in the near future.

agreed, i am intrigued how we go from here! this level of interest is not sustainable forever and taylor knows that (and i doubt she wants it, it must be exhausting/weird) and i bet she more than anyone wants to have a soft landing when the winds change. (and this isn't just about the travis situation, it's about her career as a whole.)

[avengersnewb]

Once Upon a Time in Love

The room is cold.

Unexpectedly so, Steve thinks, despite the crackling of flames in the fireplace at the other end of the bedroom. It’s dim inside, the light gleaming through the blue bulb of the wall-mount lamps over the tall headboard and it’s quiet, except for the French clock ticking, continuous and low, counting the last seconds of life as Steve used to know. Something is thrumming deep in Steve's core; something that’s supposed to be dreading and profound but he can’t quite feel it anymore. All he worries about right now is keeping perfectly still so the dried mess of splashed pomegranate on his jacket does not get onto the bedding - all white linens, ironed and starched, scattered tastefully with small arrangements of rose petals. The stillness of the moment is the first he’s had in a very long while. It's been going on forever, struggling to keep up with the turn of events, fighting within an inch of his life to mend the bridges, before breaking and burning them all, and now— he is just exhausted. He is drained. He is numb.

He has no fight left. He has nothing to fight for anymore.

It’s going to be fine though. Steve is fully capable of being a body, a face with a smile, whatever the Starks want him to be. It’s gonna hurt a little at first, but omegas are designed for marriage, and Steve’s no exception. Life is not about getting what you want, he repeats to himself for the hundredth time since this morning; it’s about doing what you can and Steve will do whatever he can to keep Bucky safe. He will think of Alpine, sneaking up on the goldfish in their backyard pond, his ma, yelling at Bucky from the kitchen window, and Bucky, running to the pond to take Alpine back home before Steve’s ma gets a chance to come with her long-handled broom to discipline them all. He will lie down on these white sheets, and focus on the bright memory of Alpine hissing at Bucky and scratching his hand, so he won’t punch Stark, no matter where Stark touches, no matter what he does. Doesn’t matter if he’s shaking a little. He’ll even try to smile.

I can do this, he chants silently, as the thick walnut door creaks open. Stark’s Italian shoes squeak across the polished floor, thud on the Kashan rug, and stop by the bed, and Steve’s heart picks up speed, beats crazy against his chest, and stops beating altogether. Should he keep his eyes glued to Stark’s shiny shoes? Should he look up and stare into Stark’s eyes? Is he expected to be naked and lying on the bed of flowers like a virgin sacrifice or is he supposed to stay still and let Stark rip the ceremonial suit off of him? He shouldn’t have yelled at his ma every time she’d tried to bring up the actual mating part of this whole ordeal over the past few weeks. Pretending it wouldn’t happen was not a very clever strategy.

The shoes do not come any closer though. They shift a little and go backward because… Stark is sitting on the sofa.

“Whiskey?”

Steve presses his nails into his palms and breathes through the rush of blood into his ears. It’s not a big deal; Steve can certainly pour a glass from the crystal canister into one of those delicate tumblers. He just needs to stand up, walk a couple of steps to the antique walnut table by the sofa, and keep from pressing delicate glassware in his fingers hard enough to make them crack.

He pushes his palms against the bed to steady himself, taking a moment to breathe, pausing for his spinning head to settle, but he takes too long, drags too many breaths, because when he looks up Stark’s already reached over the table and is fiddling with the canister lid. Steve’s head doesn’t settle. Something curls at the pit of his stomach. He has been too slow so much that Stark has run out of patience and is doing it himself, the very first thing he wanted his omega to do.

Stark doesn’t look furious though. He turns to Steve, arm stretched with a half-full glass. “Yes? No?”

The round patterns at the bottom of the tumbler break up the reflection of the swaying liquid into one thousand amber strands. Steve stares and hopes, sincerely, for his brain to catch up. What’s this question that needs answering?

“I guess you don’t drink then. Water?” Stark asks, still calm, turning back to the table, reaching for the ceramic jug.

Get a grip, Steve yells at himself and swallows. “I do drink,” he says, hoarse and grimaces. “Sometimes,” he tries again hoping to sound soft, like an omega eager to talk to his mate, and fails miserably. So much for getting a fucking grip.

Stark turns to face Steve, swift, half-raising from his seat to bring the tumbler closer. “So, whiskey?”

“Thank you,” Steve says, even colder than before, and wraps his fingers around the bottom of the glass. He tugs to draw back but Stark doesn’t loosen his grip. He doesn’t let go. Warm chocolate eyes hold Steve’s gaze, for what goes on for an entire eternity, and Steve stares back, dumbstruck, with a flapping heart and a burning spine.

“There is a bit of green in your eyes,” Stark finally says, the timber of his voice falling deeper, as if he’s found the answer to an unsolvable problem. “They were just blue back at the ceremony,” he adds as he eases his hold on the tumbler, on Steve.

The words ring in Steve’s ears as he watches Stark pour another drink, his hand staying frozen in the air, awkwardly, before he folds it back onto his lap.

He takes a sip and then a large gulp, mirroring Stark as he raises his glass to his lips.

He hisses as the liquid burns his tongue and lightens up his stomach.

The room starts to sway.

His eyes prickle and tears well up.

[d0ntw0rrybehappy]

i’m going insane lol

so i feel like the next step in working hard is to not even perceive the work i’m doing as tiring. (rereading this it’s making me lol.) it seems weird that i find a part time job at a restaurant this exhausting? and like i can’t pretend that i’m not tired, but i have to somehow take better care of myself and set the conditions to not be tired from it.

i’ve been thinking about baudrillard/barthes a lot still -- pleasantly surprised that their theories are interesting to apply to any- and everything. for example, they both go into how every statement can also be read as its opposite or negation. so, to quote baudrillard, saying “i am not afraid of communism” also implies that communism is something you should be afraid of.

i’ve been using this as a kind of paranoid way to gain insight into why people tell me that i am “strong” because i don’t really know what that means. (other things i am told i am often: sweet, intense). it’s like what they’re saying is, there’s some kind of context, a milieu of weak people i’m being compared to. or like they want to reassure me that i am strong, because i actually come across as how i feel: like a particularly lost, unstable, emotional, sensitive, and lonely person.

i can’t with restaurant work anymore. it. SUCKS. i want to fucking get out, i am like a rat scrabbling at the walls of a glass aquarium. all novelty has worn off, all misguided overtures of honest work or “people skills.” and i’m still stuck here, still holding my breath in the deep end until i can find the eject button. i am tired, my body aches. my body aches!!

i want to just grind my way out (here we are with barthes again -- well if you truly wanted to do that you’d just shut the fuck up and do it instead of writing about it), but here i am, eating another round of chocolate (i don’t smoke, i don’t have sex, i truly just eat), constantly fucking hungry. then like a bull mowing into a red flag i realize i have been grinding...in a completely useless direction. it is like my passion for learning about things gets scattered every which way and i just can’t start, every path is equally exciting and awful and the injunction to “choose” is not “clicking” in my “head.” it’s like my mind cracked open at some point in my teenage years (when i started smoking weed, when my child universe was decisively fractured by a friend) and now the crack is snowing fireworks and glitter and i shift in and out of unreality. 

reality is almost too painful to bear. nobody’s happy: you can find contentment by accepting your current lot, but “happiness" is really just contrast or relief from pain. it comes in and out. most people are too lazy or small-minded or too busy complaining to feel content, or their lives are just too twiggy, got too long in the wrong direction or are just too fucking hard. i guess i still am happy, and still love life, in a sort of ferocious and bloody and hungry way. 

love is bleak, though. i barely even know how to define it anymore. (culture defines a love which we yearn for; we experience “love” insofar as our real love fleetingly resembles this model, only to come up short -- baudrillard). re: love, to use my mom’s favorite school-of-hard-knocks memory device for the laws of thermodynamics -- a subject she took? -- you can’t win, you can’t break even, you can’t get outta the game (and death and taxes). you are going to get royally FUCKED by love just like everybody else, and you are STILL gonna play, you beautiful mortal fool. like the tarot cards lauren dealt me, putting away the three cards she’d used to describe my near future and then flipping through the entire deck, picture side up, without realizing that i was quietly watching it describe my whole entire life -- clinging at the edge of my seat to see some eventual combination that spelled good, strong, lasting love and seeing only struggle, happiness, struggle, pain, struggle, and finally ending, at my death, in a small statue made of gold. 

see also, other realities i hate to swallow: nearly all interpersonal problems are insurmountable and better left undealt with, and work basically sucks unless you are very lucky and very smart. 

work. let’s go back to that. i used to think my work would be respected off its merit; now i see the merit in literally fucking my way up. i wonder if i should even be an artist at all. artists are kinda like showponies or whores; they’re not actually important. the more honest and wonderful they are, the less important they probably are, like schoolteachers. they have an impact on an individual level. but on a societal level, you have no control as an artist. you just get played by bigger fish. better to find a way to have your hands on the gears; that way you have a shot at making a higher-order change to society. but alas, the (capitalist) system is totally out of everyone’s hands and will keep running as usual no matter what you do, still savage in equal amounts, i think. doesn’t mean you shouldn’t try. but at this point i’d give a toe or finger to work for someplace like youtube. at least it’s reached critical mass where i could do something cool and make a difference with emerging media. 

that or i pander to whatever blathering brain-melting slop, drivel, they’re putting on tv for kids and adults. or manage to convince a smaller nonprofit that i am “good at talking to people from diverse socioeconomic backgrounds,” whatever the hell that fucking means. or maybe, ugh god, i’ll work for an ad agency? or do digital strategy? and um, i could say some shit about how capitalism is darwinism and money is a form of social control that works so well because it’s out of the hands of any individual person, and i should probably just stick with art and believe in it, and maybe like, apply for grants. but i want a job, a full-time job. i want stability and enough money that i don't feel guilty buying new underwear and i don't want to hustle to keep the tap running month-to-month and i want to spend the majority of my time doing something i find fulfilling. and soon enough i'll get that, and all my dreams will come true: i’m going to get married and become a fat mom taking my kids to piano practice and saying “the meeting went on forever today,” and i’ll have a husband who never cleans the house enough, and then we’ll get divorced and he’ll find someone 20 years younger and i’ll live out the rest of my years semi-happily alone and i don’t know how i will ever have time to make art again. or if i do i just hope it’s not hobby-like, second-rate.

i wish i could have (feel) the bare-faced honesty and love of sha’carri richardson hugging her grandmother after she worked her ass off for a race. instead everything is this weird simulation where i never feel like i love anybody enough or like i’m working hard enough. i can’t speak honestly except when i am writing about myself (strong, sweet, intense, narcissistic) or things i have noticed, as directed to my own imaginary friend. when i try to communicate irl (or, worst of all, “be real”) it’s all so overthought, overwrought, self-conscious. the only person who knows my real private self is the girl winking at me on my black lives matter poster. i hope she doesn’t mind being here in my room. ducky, the stuffed animal brandon gave me, was also supportive but i put him away because it seemed bad to tell future guys that my stuffed animal is “the child of divorce.” and now /you guys/ know me a little bit, because i took the time to pretend you were all my imaginary friend, my dearest pen pal who laughs at all my jokes and gets all my references, and stopped pretending i was anything besides what’s written here. 

and i think, like, a lot of people now live in this weird simulation? and are so confused about romantic and familial love to the point where everyone is getting off on family members fucking each other and can’t decide if it’s normal to think kids are hot? but i guess that was always some weird fucked-up demon side of human existence? another thing i’m supposed to accept. (also sorry trigger warning.) and another thing i took for granted as a child, that most people, if not everyone, is weird/gross/evil, but now that my mind is cracked this shocks me all over again and i seek some sort of explanation. it’s like i can’t find a real hunk of closeness anywhere. i’m close to my own family, but in my other relationships we’re either too distant or too close and i’m desperately searching for just some normal friends. and to be able to give a speech where i tell someone i really love them and for it to ring true. but i try to be grateful that i live in driving distance to the beach and there’s air conditioning and once i stop being a stupid baby there’s probably more friends and work and stuff out there for me. and then i’ll have some new problem.

[sassaetcie]

The Ashes of the Oven : Silver x Idia as a play with Lilia as the main actor - 2

heyo it’s the second part, enjoy

                                                         Scene IV

                               One of Diasomnia main building's balconies

LILIA, aside: Ah everyone, everyone in this small area has fallen asleep again! They say ignorance is bliss, but I guess, so is sleep.  Sweet, sweet children, rest well, dream well, for your dreams may be a fragment of this poor reality, or reality may be a fragment of dreams. What an old man I am, again and forever! Is this wind cold? Warm? Lukewarm? Is my skin dreading this poor, stuck, motionless tredging wind? Or is my blood fearing for such an eternal, limited, foe? Ah! Who comes! Who may you be, student of my dorm... my fellow!

DIASOMNIA STUDENT, A, B, C OR D, MAYBE X: Oh, sir Lilia. I apologize, I heard something and thought it was... some intruder creeping toward our balconies.

LILIA: Do not worry, this is small potatoes. You can go back, there is nothing but myself here. What is your name, if I cannot recall it at all? I am an old, old, chap, after all.

DIASOMNIA STUDENT, A, B, C OR D, MAYBE X: Oh, nothing of great matter, I'll be going back to the dorm.

LILIA: Please, do, young one. But indeed, your name may not be that much of a matter. I see you are diligent, and know immediatly of your susbtance. Would it have been easier with your "name", or any word at all? I wonder, I do not think so. For these words are after all, Words. And words are words upon everything, and yet everything might as well be a lie.

DIASOMNIA STUDENT, A, B, C OR D, MAYBE X: Do you mean my name is truly worthless, in the end, sir?

LILIA: All of our names are useless in the end, young one! Would you be called "Rose" and yet be fast, talking a lot, crushing flowers, including roses? Why would you wear such a name? Isn't that a blatant lie? Look at me, Lilia Vanrouge! Is there something red in me, on this fae body? Even the compass is not a compass! It cannot lead us anywhere, it barely leads us nowhere! But pray, go and recover through slumber again, my lad. You will be exhausted tomorrow, won't you? Your poor little thing.

DIASOMNIA STUDENT, A, B, C OR D, MAYBE X: Y-yes, I'll take my leave... Good night, sir Lilia.

LILIA: Good night, child of the world.

                                                          Scene V:

                                         Night Raven College coliseum

ASHTON VARGAS: Morning, youngsters! Won't spend a lot of time asking you how went your weekend cause it would be a waste of time on your potential, and a waste of time on the developpement of your MUSCLES! We're still in a exam period, so you better prepare! No, Idia, Azul, no running away, we're just doing boring exams... Well, the magical ones! And even if we didn't, you shouldn't waste your youth like this! Muscles and exercices are important for your health and body, as well as a healthy diet and...

IDIA: Yeah, yeaaah, I know... Can we just get to the exams already...

AZUL: Indeed, we may be losing time on our youth like you said so well, Mr Vargas. Wouldn't that be sad if we were to spend more time than expected on this exam?

ASHTON: Oh. Yeah, that's true! Well, I'll let you chose your teams as long as you don't just gang up as dorms or age... I may be tough to harden you up, but I won't stand for these kind of things! If you're just beaten up, you won't get anything from it!

SEBEK: SIR, WHAT DO YOU MEAN BY GANGING UP AS DORMS???

ASHTON: Well, if you chose to team up with Silver, you won't be teaming up with Lilia and Malleus, you see?

SEBEK: But! BUT!

SILVER: Sebek, just calm down... you are going to bring too much attention upon Diasomnia at this point... And if you're... you are worried about Malleus... you can still team up with him to protect him, I'll be with someone else, or maybe our old... maybe Lilia will be okay with me.

LILIA: Oh, I shall be going with someone else, young ones. Pray do not pay attention to me, Sebek, go and follow Malleus, if you will.

SEBEK: Lord Malleus!!!!! Wait for me!!! You cannot wander too much, I am sorry!!!

SILVER: So... what will you do, old man?

LILIA: I will be going with little Cater and Mr Clover. Who knows, maybe we will end up fighting you and Idia, fufufu?

SILVER: Wouldn't that make your team full of third-years students, though?

LILIA: Why, maybe. Maybe! But Trey nor Cater are as powerful as Idia, certainly, fufu. Wouldn't he be the perfect partner even there? Go and fly to him, who knows whom might end up with him otherwise. Wouldn't that be sad if he were to end up alone because people wanted to team up out of affection or strategy only, and not because of both? Although, I cannot fully blame them for that. We are, quite always young down here, or up there, aren't we?

SILVER: Mhh, yeah, you are right, I guess. It is not like I can team up with someone else while being sure they know how to act as a team, anyway... I will be going.

LILIA, aside: Well, well. I guess the story really is going as planned. How gratifying! I could really see myself as a god if it were to keep going. I wonder, I wonder, what is the good choice? The lie, the right investment? Is this compass showing the North, or the South? Is the North the North? The South the South, the south, south the? There is no such thing as a clock in our life, but this huge, or invisible Compass.

                                                         Scene VI:

ASHTON: So, everyone has formed their teams?

STUDENT(S) FROM A TO X, FROM H TO D: Yes, sir!

ASHTON: Okay, anyone to move forward? Or we gotta make the whole stuff harder and call people randomly? Come on, gather up some courage, you have nothin' to fear! Everything gonna be alright.

CATER DIAMOND: Heeho! I would like to begin, showing the way to the younger students and all, you know~!

ASHTON: Cater? Surprised but not disappointed! That's the way to go! So! Who's in your team?

CATER DIAMOND: Lilia Vanrouge and Trey Clover! Of course we won't be fighting first years, that would be really cruel and lame~!

ASHTON: Yeah, would be unfair although we shouldn't underestimate the youngsters. Someone to take up the challenge?

LILIA: Do not underestimate the young ones, indeed. Would this dear Silver tries to fight us? Since he knows me, dorms interwars could be interesting, don't you think so?

ASHTON: Can't tell, these kind of things really aren't for me! As long as you fight in the rules and all... What do you think, Silver?

SILVER: Well. I have only one partner, and I don't... do not know if Idia Shroud would be okay with fighting three people instead of two.

IDIA: I don't care... If I'm with Silver, we should be in synch enough to fight three people who don't really have a lot to do together...  

TREY: Huh? Did something happen between you two?

CATER: You really don't pay any attention, do you, Trie~?

ASHTON: Enough chatting! Everyone, get away from the arena! Time to fight and muscles to shine!

SILVER: En garde.

LILIA: Oh, no need to be so formal, young one! You will not have time to say such things in war... but it is pleasant to hear and witness such fantasy.

IDIA: Then, take that!

TREY: Come on, Idia! Why would you use tree spells when you know that we are so good with fire?

SILVER: Thanks for the smoke, here I come.

CATER: Eeeeeh! A light shot...! Don't blind me eeeeeh!

LILIA: Let me add more fumes to hide this quite too vivid light!

CATER: Ehhhh... I can't see any of y'all, now~! That's not funny... and that's unfair!

LILIA: Nothing is unfair in battle, young one. You should not have underestimated two partners, after all. Hm? What's that? Oh, oh, an ashen ground. How interesting... Our steps do not make any sound anymore... Or sound does not come anymore.

TREY: Huh oh, I feel like Idia had predicted that.

IDIA: Gyehehe! Take thaaaaaat!

CATER: Aaaaaaah!!!! MY LEGS ARE FROZEN~!!!

LILIA: I guess you had planned on making an whole quiet floor and freezing it right after. How interesting... Let me burn down these fake grounds.

SILVER: Idia, step back, wherever you are. The fumes will get worse if the old man really burns down the whole ground... concrete aside.

LILIA: Huhu, concrete aside? Wouldn't that be fun to burn down, though? I wonder what kind of toxic fumes would get out. No one can help you in this smoke, young ones!

TREY: You're getting creepy, please, stop, already. We don't want to trigger something in Idia... or anyone else...

CATER: Come and help me instead of playing the bad guy, Lilia~!! If I'm down that means I can't use our main diversion anymore!

LILIA: Why would you think I am merely playing now? I may have been tagging along all this time, come on. Someone must have fun watching us diving! Burn, slowly burn. What will these flames reveal?

SILVER: Old man, stop. I don't know what you're on, but I beg you to stop. This isn't going to end well if you keep

IDIA: Uuuh... I'm going to suffocate... I'm going to suffocate.

SILVER: LILIA! STOP!

LILIA: Aren't these red flames pretty? Look at how much they burn, they eat away the whole world. What can we build over this burned ground, I wonder?

IDIA: I'm going to suffocate. Suff.suff.suff.SUFF.SUFF.SUFF. Stop with the flames already! Fucking stop! Stop!! Just hit me with ice if you want, but no more flames, please!

CATER: Lilia, stop, come on~! This isn't funny anymore, don't mess with Idia, we don't know what he can doooo~!!!

IDIA: I should have guessed... I should have guessed that you would never agree with me being happy with Silver! Gehehe... i was so fucking naive, of course no one would like me to take away their preciouuuuus family!

TREY: The fumes are melting away... What is going on?!

CATER: Haha, I don't like this feeling of déjà-vu...

LILIA: Ahh, finally. Well, I guess I should present you Idia... once he has overblotted.

SILVER: LILIAAAAAA!

LILIA: Oh, pray, do not try to kill me, this would be useless. Won't you save your... boyfriend, is that the word I am supposed to use now?

IDIA: Huhhh... No matter how much I try... these flames just stick to my skin... Soon this won't be my skin anymore... I'm sorry, Ortho, i'm sorry... why do you have to be caged with a fucking useless and ridicule and selfish and awful and pathetic brother? I'm sorry, I'm sorry.

CATER: What do you want us to do, Lilia?! Holy fuck, I can't even tell anymore what's going, why would you do something so careless and stupid, not to say dangerous?!

LILIA: Why, to help him, of course.

CATER: Eeeeh~ You're that kind of bitch who thinks they knows everyone's pains and act as if you could heal everything without anyone's help?

LILIA: Oh, young one, I apologize. I want your help, as well as Silver's help and Trey's help. I promise everything will be alright.

TREY: I... strongly disagree with your method. I wish I could just slap you right now but now there are too many people watching. It's because of people like you that we keep having so many troubles... you're so young and yet you act like some kind of patronizing parent... But hey, better wait for the overblot to stop first. I'll slap you later. Any idea to help Idia?

LILIA: Well, Silver will be the main actor here. He is, after all, the "Prince Charming".  

[am-imagines]

Legendary Pt. 2 Morgan!Reader

Here we go, guys! Fluffy route for those that want a proud AM.

Warnings: None.

Italic is the broadcast of the game. Something R doesn’t hear but I thought it was a nice touch to the story. I hope you guys like it!

Legacy.

You’ve heard that word a thousand times over the last few weeks. It appeared for the first time when the roster was announced and it has followed you all the way to Australia. They want to know if you can keep the Morgan legacy alive, and you wonder how it can die after the things your mom did.

Nervous energy fills your body while you stand in line for the National Anthems. It seems like forever before you’re ready to start the game. You shake your shoulders and everything is left behind; the doubts, the questions and inquiries about this team or your preparation.

The entire world is looking at you; the stadium is filled to the brim and you have no doubt this World Cup will shatter past audience records. Some people believe in you, others don’t. By the end of the tournament, they will. You’re gonna make them believers.

“Let’s give it all, ladies!” Krash shouts from the goal.

This is your moment.

All the attention is on the USWNT on their first game and you’re gonna take this chance to prove yourself. It’s time to show who you are on your own, and make the Morgan name rise again along with a whole country that is just as hungry for this cup as you are.

     “Number thirteen returns to the field for the USA and I’m sure everybody is           waiting to see if she follows the steps of the great Alex Morgan. Only time          will tell, and it’s time for the first 90 minutes on this World Cup for the dream        team.”

You kick the ball into action and the game begins.

Running on the field is part of you by now, and you turn into a totally different person then. You follow the ball, plan the next pass before it gets to you. You’re not just a player, you’re a planner and have an innate ability to see plays no one else does.

Germany is a tough team; a challenge on itself and it’s almost impossible to crack their defensive line. Not a single ball makes it through them for the first twenty-five minutes or so, but that doesn’t stop you.

You try new things and observe how they react. You analyze their strengths and weaknesses, by the thirtieth minute you have a plan.

“Pick and roll, Press!” You say when she jogs past you.

The term belongs to a completely different sport, but that’s the strategy. Press knows exactly what you’re talking about, and so does Long when you give her the same instruction a minute later. You stay close to each other as you move forward, passing and moving, never keeping the ball too long to be tackled.

It’s a triple threat and Germany doesn’t know how to stop you.

Press moves with the agility you’ve seen in old Tobin Heath’s videos. She creates space between two defenders and Long takes her chances. Her shot is deflected and the ball finds you almost by accident.

Time seems to slow down as you shift your body for the perfect shot. You have just enough space and the right angle so you don’t overthink it. You have a mean left foot and don’t hesitate to use it. When the ball leaves your boot, you have a great feeling and you follow the arch the spheric makes through the air.

    “That’s a goal! Oh, what an amazing goal from Y/N Morgan to open the                 score! An incredible play by the USA finished with a delightful shot. Buckle           your seatbelts, ladies and gentlemen! Morgan is back in the building, and            she brought pure magic with her.”

You don’t even know if the roar on your ears is the crowd cheering or your heartbeat going haywire. It doesn’t matter when your teammates reach you and jump into your open arms. That’s all you can do to celebrate.

Two minutes later the excitement of the first goal is forgotten to focus back on the game.

This team is hungry for victories.

You want to win it all; the match, the group, the cup.

It’s a constant grind lived minute by minute. Relaxing too much after a goal can be a lethal mistake; one you don’t make. You’re back on your A-game when the match resumes and you’re still in that mindset after half-time.

Germany adapts to your game quicker than you’d have liked it. Chances are few and far between without a clear look. They win most of the balls in the air and the physical aspect of the game starts wearing you down at the 70’ mark.

If there’s a thing that defines you is that you don’t give up, ever.

You wouldn’t be a Morgan or a part of this National Team otherwise. 

The clock is running out fast so you do whatever you can; run faster, play harder, don’t give up. You draw a foul. It’s not the first one you receive, but you’re going to make this one count.

Take a deep breath, you tell yourself when O’Hara is ready to take the free kick. You call for the ball, and then show the world why you’re a forward. You jump with all your might; timing it as much as you’re able to, and it’s just an inch higher than your mark. It’s just an inch but it allows you to connect a header and the ball finds nothing but net.

      “Goal for the USA! Morgan with her second goal of the match with only a              few minutes to spare on this encounter. The dream of America is more alive        than ever, and I’m sure this game feels like a dream to Y/N.”

You can’t believe it.

You can’t believe it even when the crowd goes wild or when your teammates tackle you by accident before hopping on top of you. You can’t believe it when you look at the scoreboard. You shout “Yes!” as they laugh with you.

O’Hara; Janice, helps you to your feet and you take it all in.

People are jumping up and down in the stands, cheering louder than ever for a team they believe in. You pat the number on the front of your jersey before pointing to the stands. You wear the thirteen because Alex will always be watching your back, and she’s somewhere in that stadium; as proud as a mother can be.

Pinoe subs you out with five minutes left, and if the ovation you receive is any indication, she wanted you to have that moment of glory.

“Great game, Morgan.” Sonnett says as you make your way to the bench.

Exhaustion doesn’t compare to the thrill of your first World Cup game and when the whistle is blown to end the match, you run to meet with the rest of the team.

This is one of those moments you wish you could share with your family. You’ve been on camp for a small eternity, or at least it feels like that, and you miss them terribly.

“Morgan!” A reporter calls when you make it to the tunnel. “Could you answer some questions for us?”

“Yeah, of course.”

Harris gives you a high five when she passes by and then you’re in front of a camera.

“Y/N, what a delightful way to start the tournament, don’t you think?”

“Absolutely. Germany is a really good team. They made us think out of the box and challenged us to find new ways to play when our initial tactics didn’t work as well as we wanted. It was an exciting game and we’re glad to get the win. But, we also understand that this is just the first step, we shouldn’t get ahead of ourselves. We haven’t won the cup yet, and ultimately, that’s what we’re here for.”

Even the post-game interview feels out of this world, and you can’t stop smiling.

“There was a lot of expectations about having you on the field today. Should go without saying that you didn’t disappoint. Two goals for you today, how do you feel?”

“I was fortunate enough to score twice on this match, but it was a team effort. We’ve worked really hard to be the best we can, and it paid off. Hard work, consistency and determination were on the field today. I couldn’t have done that without Press, Long and the rest of the girls by my side, you know?”

“Do you think Morgan is back as some fans call it?”

“I’m proud of being a Morgan and proud of wearing the same number my mom did. I understand people want to see the next Alex Morgan, but let me tell you, I’m not. Mom is a three time world champion. She won gold medals at the Olympics, golden boots everywhere and broke endless records. I’m just starting my journey. But she taught me to work hard and to never give up. That’s what you can expect from me.”

“Thank you for your time, Y/N. Enjoy your victory.”

With one last smile and a wave, you finally make it into the locker room.

***

“I miss you.”

“I miss you too, baby.” Alex says from the screen of your tablet. “You did an amazing job today and I couldn’t be prouder. You are exceptional, Y/N. Don’t forget that.”

“Thanks, mom.”

“You should get some rest now. World Cups are really tough on the body. And hey, I’m always here if you need me. No matter what happens, I’m here.”

“I know. I’ll see you tomorrow?”

You snuggle further into your pillow; tiredness taking over, but you want a few extra minutes with your mom. She’s so close, but camp has some restrictions. You knew it, and this is not too different from college. Still, you wish she could hug you right now.

“Of course, my darling.”

“Love you.”

She waits until you’re fast asleep before disconnecting the call but not before muttering: “I love you too, my sweet girl. Goodnight.”

[thelightofthingshopedfor]

@erlkonigstochter replied to your post “fucking YET AGAIN I let an adamant stylist talk me out of the cut I...”

ugh I'm really sorry. I know paying more isn't ideal, but could you go somewhere else and still get what you want?

if I knew I could get somebody who would actually listen to me and work with me, then yeah, it would probably be worth it, especially if I could establish a cut I like and then go somewhere cheap to maintain it. and that’s...probably what I should do, considering my current strategy of using Groupon to find major discounts for stylists I know nothing about is obviously not working.

I just. I want to get rid of my hair. I don’t like it. I don’t like how it gets in my face all the time, and since yesterday when I thought I would get it all cut off and didn’t, I’ve even been hating how it feels on my neck, regardless of whether it’s actively getting in my face or catching on something or making me overheat. and it was just...very frustrating, because I have a good idea of what I want and I even made a big-ass (possibly too big) Pinterest board of examples, with the understanding that I probably can’t duplicate some of those because my hair is thin and I have a stupid cowlick and I don’t want to use much in the way of styling products but I figured a stylist would actually work with me to figure out how to get close to those general styles? like, okay, the person in that picture has really thick hair so yours physically can’t look like that, but a layered cut might look like this, or like this if you used this specific styling product, or whatever.

and instead she’s like. no your hair looks good as is, how about I just give you a trim. ...but I want to get it all cut off, that’s literally the whole reason I’m here?? no your hair is thin and flat and with a pixie cut you’ll look like you have no hair but it’s good now. BUT I DON’T LIKE IT NOW. well you’ll like a pixie cut even less. I don’t like it now because it gets in my face! okay well we could drastically shorten the back but leave like longer side pieces that will look nice and you can tuck them behind your ears if you need to. right and those fall in my face as soon as I put my head forward. well don’t do that then, why would you do that. what do you want? I want a pixie cut, I want it out of my face always. no your hair is perfect as is because you can put it in a pony tail or tuck it behind your ears and it’ll stay out of your way. BUT IT DOESN’T, THAT’S WHY I WANT IT CUT OFF. look how nice it looks, how about I just take off an inch. or two, we could take off two inches but definitely no longer than that because really you should just get a trim, so what do you want? I just...want it really short... no you don’t, that’s bad, what do you want? well I wanted a pixie cut but now I’m exhausted and frustrated and second-guessing myself so just fucking do whatever I guess! and then she took off an inch or so and took forever blow-drying it and did sort of an asymmetrical part that, yes, did look nice BUT WAS EVEN WORSE AT KEEPING MY HAIR OUT OF MY FACE.

and then because my hellbrain is never content just being grumpy about a single thing, my frustration over this became frustration over my life in general, because I’m bad at knowing and then articulating exactly what I want and worse about standing up for myself against even slight resistance to get it, but also maybe I’m just being silly and childish because I’m wanting something impossible that I can’t ever have and I just have to resign myself to living with my stupid hair for the rest of my life, just like everything else that hugely dissatisfies me but that I can’t seem to change, and also it’s dumb and childish of me to be spiraling so much about this in the first place, and in fact I suck and so does everything else!!

hellbrain really never takes a break, I gotta give it props for dedication.

anyway today I found a ton of sites insisting that you can do a pixie cut with thin hair and in fact it’s often a good cut for people with thinning hair, so I guess I’m just gonna...add even more to my Pinterest board and try to find somebody who will actually work with me instead of fucking arguing with me about what I want

[just-horrible-things]

It’s an unwelcome surprise to see the Hero on their doorstep.

It’s not a complete shock. No hideout stays secure forever. It’s very puzzling that they’re buzzing the intercom though.

Of course the Villain has to pick up.

“Hello, this is Bethcote Industries. I’m afraid we’re currently closed for business, please come back in the morning.” They can’t quite keep the sarcasm out of their tone. “Can we cut the crap?” the Hero returns, “I - am really not in the mood.” Frankly, they sound like seven shades of hell. The mystery deepens. Through the security feed, the Villain can see the Hero coughing into their hand. They have already given the orders to go to high alert and secure the whole place, of course. But so far no other sentry or camera is reporting anything out of the ordinary.

“Fine, let’s cut to the chase. What do you want, and why are you on my doorstep?” “I need your help,” the Hero admits raggedly. “Oh, that’s rich,” the Villain scoffs. “What do you take me for, an idiot? No. Scram.” “No tricks. No traps.” The Hero shrugs off their coat, and tosses it weakly to one side. They hold up their hands and rotate slowly for the camera. “No guns.” The Villain can think of at least a dozen ways they could be carrying concealed weapons, just off the top of their head. But the Hero isn’t usually the type for underhanded strategies... “So who put you up to this?” they snark. “No one. Matter of fact, no one knows I’m here-” they break off into another coughing fit. A likely story.

“Why in fuck would you come to me for help? I’m as likely to put a bullet through your skull as give you the time of day.” “Because I don’t think anyone else can help me. I assure you, I’m not exactly happy about this. But I’m kinda flat out of options.” That gets a long silence. Eventually the Villain has to ask, “What the hell kind of help do you need?” “So... you remember Strain 7K?” Holy shit. Seriously? “Pull the other one, it’s got bells on.” “I’d show you my tongue, but I doubt the camera can see it from there,” the Hero grouches, squinting up at said camera. “There’s no way you have 7K. And if you did, that’d be a damn good reason to keep you out of my building.” “I need your help,” the Hero repeats doggedly. “Please.” “Why the hell should I help you? I’m not sure if the virus is eating your brain yet, but in case you forgot we are enemies.” “Well.” Another ragged cough. “I assume there’s gonna be some terms and conditions.”

The Villain thinks about it. The whole story stinks of lies, but there’s still no sign of the other shoe. And how often does an opportunity like this come along, even if it’s probably the bait for some kind of trap? As they watch the screen, the Hero leans against the wall, seemingly exhausted. “Let’s say you do have 7K,” the Villain posits. “Why would you think I even could help you?” “Because you got infected, and you’re clearly not dead.” “I got infected? What in the world makes you say that?” “Oh, c’mon, don’t play coy... I saw your hand, when you were getting into your car as shit started to hit the fan. Happy?”

More silence. The Hero rests their head against the wall, waiting. When there is no response after about a minute, they prompt “So.... help me? Please?” “I really can’t see much reason to.” “Well, I guess I’d better just lay down and die then.” Alarmingly, they really can’t tell how much the Hero is joking. True to their word, the Hero lowers themself down the wall and straight up lies down on the pavement. The Villain is baffled, and finds themself strangely annoyed. “Hey, no dying on my doorstep. Drag your possibly-infectious arse off somewhere else to die.” There is no response, of course. They can’t reach the intercom button from down there. “Maybe a hospital, get yourself some palliative care. Or fine, be that way. I’m sure garbage collection will come along and deal with your corpse eventually. Hell, maybe you’ll start an epidemic, won’t that be fun.”

Twenty minutes later, the door opens. Henchlings in hazmat suits emerge, pointing guns at the Hero, who does not move from the floor. They don’t resist as the mooks drag their hands behind their back and lock cuffs on them. They don’t resist being patted down - insomuch as that’s possible with those thick gloves on. They don’t even resist as they’re heaved into a duffel bag. Though there is a faint “aw, c’mon.” as the zip is closed in preparation for dragging them inside.

[radabadabing-bing]

Xander eats cake and gets ridiculously fat

Hey I sold you on the title eh? This is a pretty straightforward story. I pulled it off my deviantart and edited parts of it so people can read it without being a formatting disaster. I will be uploading two more, one on Niles, one on Keaton, in a bit. Don’t want to overwhelm people. I’m also gonna say this...gets pretty dicey. You should be 18+ if you want to read this. Or, uh, any of my stories here on out. I will tone things back a bit, but these three were kind of super super self indulgent and kind of shared on a whim. Anyways that’s enough of a tangent, you came here for Xander getting ridiculously fat and here it is.

Smart would be not eating a piece of cake that showed up out of nowhere.

That would be gluttony.

Why Xander felt so gluttonous that day, he did not know. Perhaps he had failed to eat breakfast or lunch while training his sword arm. Perhaps he had been busy in strategy missions that day. Or perhaps he really was just hungry. But either or, he ate that slice of cake.

The true unusual part about the cake was it's location. Xander had ended up in the ever winding basement of the astral castle. It spread on for miles...Each direction going on forever and ever. Just...dust and hidden things. And those hidden things...were not always kind. Most things in the deepest reaches of the basement were terrible artifacts or potions, made in an era long past. And those brews and artifacts had terrible effects on the users.

Xander didn't know this. No one could really blame him- it seemed rather innocuous at first. Of course, one may find basement cake...strange. However, to Xander, it looked and smelled fresh. The crown prince had gingerly used a fork located next to it, just as fresh as the cake, to take off a piece and eat it. It was the best cake he had ever had- far surpassing that of Camilla's or Peri's (The surprisingly good chef she was). He could not resist- he consumed every last crumb of that cake, leaving an empty plate in his wake. He began to wonder if there was more of said cake, but simply couldn't shake this strange feeling that washed over him. He felt so heavy- yet was the same size as before. He gave up on his cake conquest and was about to get back to his original task of finding a few steel weapons that were sent down a while back when it hit  him. Intense gurgling from his stomach was the first hint of what would happen.

And it wasn't just a hunger gurgle. This gurgle was something that was...indescribable. Like a pot of water bubbling after heat was applied. Unnatural.

Next was a burp. Very un-prince like, but excusable. But he...really wasn't feeling good now. "Ygh...perhaps that cake was stale..." His stomach continued to burble and glub. He couldn't see, but for some reason...he felt it puff out? Of course not. It was just the cake. It was just a silly feeling.

But...he couldn't shake it. Everything tingled. Did his butt just swell? He turned to see it- a little more puffy than usual. No, no, he shook it off. It's just the cake. The cake...That could've been

lined with...? No, no. It couldn't be happening. Not to Xander.

His armor was not bulging out. That's how it always looked. His armor always made strange clanking noises as if it were falling apart.

His hips were always that wide. He was not getting fa-

The straps on his armor began stretching out.

Yes, he was definitely gaining weight.

His pants were getting tighter and tighter and so was his armor.

Whatever that cake did to him, it was bad. He took refuge by using the wall to support him, putting a hand on the wall. Another surge of fat hit him, and several straps failed around his body. "UURP!" He released a roaring bolk. "Uhng...this is really bad UUURP!" Clang! A piece of his armor fell off.

His pudgy belly spilled out. Clink clank clink, more armor fell off, more flesh spilling out. He scooped it up with his hands, feeling it slowly grow and jiggle as it grew out. Another piece of armor gone, more of his belly exposed. It was rotund, his navel deep.

It's grumbling was bad enough, but Xander forgot about how it wasn't just his belly- With a rip, he remembered his butt was blowing up too. Bwump, bwump, it got bigger and bigger,

tearing away at his pants. His thighs blew up, larger than Camilla's or anyone else in the army. More armor popping off, thighs chafing  against one another. He was stripped of his armor now, wearing his light clothes, which were meant to be comfortable to a muscular Xander, not a Xander whose pectorals had been blown out of proportion and belly rode up the shirt. He was becoming a swollen caricature of himself, no longer in fighting form. He felt his pants tighten in the front...perhaps some sort of bloodrush, or the sudden movement of whatever that cake was filling him with. Pudgy and puffy, he put a hand to his distended belly. It gurgled and slightly trembled as it bloated out of control.

The zipper of his pants burst apart, the button holding it together wasn't doing so well either. He felt the growth emerge out from it, freed from it's constriction. The tear in his pants was growing larger and larger as his ass grew larger and larger. His shirt ripped in two, thanks to his set of perky manboobs, blobby and rounded. "I need to get huuuuuuarp!" His words were interrupted by another burp, "UUUUURP! Help!"

To even reach the cake in the first place, Xander had to enter it's own little "room". It had a normal sized door any normal sized person could enter through. Of course, at this point Xander was not normal sized. Regardless, he tried to go through the door, wedging his fattened

body in place, much to his horror. He continued to burp, along with grunting as he tried to jiggle his body free of the door. The button of his pants, which had been rather good in holding on for so long, finally failed, and with a ping blasted off the floor. He felt his face get chubbier as he

pried himself through the doorway, at least trying to. Embarrassingly, he was stuck- his swelling body not making things easier. Seams all around his pants were popping off, coming undone. Eventually, Xander was only wearing his underwear, which weren't doing too good- heavily intenting his plump and thick thighs.

Just as his arms began to expand out and grow to immense size, good luck was upon Xander, as he popped out of the doorframe with a stumble. His body wobbled and jiggled as it was freed, Xander nearly falling on his back due to his fantastic weight. His erection was really beginning to become noticeable in his tight, tight underwear. He bit his lip as the seam of his undergarments began tearing. "Mm...mm..." Something was welling up in his stomach. A big burst. Something bad. "Mm...mm...muuup, urp, urp..." He let out tiny burps first. And then... "Muh, muh, MUUUUURP, UUUUUUURP" Xander gave out his loudest bolk yet. His underwear snapped off with the loud belch, leaving him naked. It was a miracle he was standing at that weight, though given the pace of his growth he wouldn't be standing much longer.

How had no one not found him?...That might actually not be that bad. He shuddered to think what would happen if someone had seen him, especially like this. His belly was gurgling loudly now, growing very quickly at his freed pace. A wave of fat hit his butt, knocking him off balance.

He began to stumble, becoming too heavy to stand- and promptly fell on his squishy rump. "Guh..." He managed to let out a grunt in between his various belches and burps. And he really could not ignore his enlarged member, despite being hidden under layers of fat. It's growth was not ceasing…

He couldn't take much more of this. He was approaching the ceiling at this point. Xander felt like he could burst...Could...could he burst?

He didn't like that thought. His stomach was still expanding out, with louder and louder growls. Xander tried to reach for it, but found his arms were too large as well, too fat to adjust properly. Even his hands were hard to move, hardly able to close into fists. Everything felt so...big. Much, much too large. "Uhhhng...Mmm..." That feeling was welling up again in his chest again. There was a big burp coming. "Mmm! Mmm! M-UOOOOARP!" A final burst of fat hit him, pushing him against the walls.

"Uuuuhn...It's...over..." Sweat dribbled down his face. He felt disgusting.

"Ugh...So...Tired..." The groaning of his stomach lulled him to sleep, exhausted by his immense growth.

Xander woke up much, much later. And he was much, much lighter.

He picked himself up off the ground. He was still quite flabby, with a prominent belly, fattened thighs, and a rounded rump. Xander sighed, how could he explain this to the others? Being naked and fat. And his stomach...His stomach ached, still reeling from the cake...cake...the cake...he could smell it. He turned to the doorway he had been stuck in. There wasn't just a single piece of cake now.

There was a whole one. Just sitting there, waiting to be eaten. He looked down at his belly. He looked towards the cake. He was salivating...Xander shouldn't of eaten that cake. Any under circumstance.

But before he knew it, he was shoveling the cake into his mouth with reckless abandon...

[gusherfruitsnack]

M!Robin x Summoner!Reader rank C headcanons

Some hcs for if a M!Robin and the reader reached rank C in summoner support. Heavily based off of the interactions in Fire Emblem Heroes, just with a few extra things. It's unprompted but I wanted to post something as FEH just gave me waves of inspiration!

~Snack

Most of your nights already consisted of settling down in the castle’s library and scratching notes on parchment of the heroes you’ve summoned, allies they’ve mentioned in passing, but more importantly, any information you were able to gather about the opposing forces. Now, however, you find yourself to have some company while doing so.

It hadn’t been long after you first summoned Robin, that he and you began to bond over long sessions of strategic planning. It started with him offering to help you lighten your own workload, to the two of you tag teaming theoretical expeditions, but several events happened prior to that arrangement. There weren’t as many heroes before Robin found himself inside the stone fortress, so you insisted on doing the planning alone, wanting what few heroes you had to train in the tower as much as they could. Being the sole tactician was proving to be strenuous over time, but even then you were not quick to accept his aid. To get around your stubbornness he would, in his words, ”just happen to be exactly where you are while you are working. The library is for everyone to use you know.” He would say while leaning over your shoulder, behind the chair you were slouching in, just to add, “oh, and in that scenario, if you placed me there instead, I could easily take him down.”

It was nice having a lighthearted, albeit teasing interaction, but if that was not enough to open your eyes, he would certainly argue that two sets of them would work far more efficiently than one that’s clearly overworked, trying to solve the same scenario using no differing strategies, fifty times over. As much as you hated to admit it, he had a point. Eventually, if you kept this up, you’d collapse from exhaustion, or just generally break down from the stress of it all. After one more comment from him, that’s exactly what you found yourself doing.

“I have no memories from before the time I met Chrom. But I still have a fine mind for tactics. Oh, you too? How intriguing.” To most, it might seem out of the blue, but that was the last push you needed to realize your own distress. Torn from your friends, your family, your life as a whole, to be thrown to the wolves in a war-torn fantasy world where people STILL used swords and to make things even more hard to grasp, here they also rode on DRAGONS. 

Hell, it turns out according to what Anna said, some heroes ARE dragons. After listening to your venting, Robin seemed to understand your feelings, being more mindful when around you. He was patient, eyeing you as your breathing started to slow, gathering his own thoughts. Sure he was taken from his world, but it was still the same reality, it abided by the laws he learnt when at Chrom’s side. “...(Y/N), please...sit down...” He gestured to the chair you had gotten out of in the heat of the moment, his words bringing you back to reality. Talking to him like this, it helped you through a lot, even if he had no idea what a car, cellphone or karaoke was, he still listened.

It took some time, but after calming down you figured you reached the route of the problem. Robin would assure you that everyone there believes in you but more importantly, would do whatever they could to protect you. You weren’t alone in this, there wasn’t a reason to hide away and handle it all yourself.

The feeling in the room shifted to being rather light-hearted, him taking your mind off of things for a while. From talking about Anna’s latest money-making scheme that failed miserably, or Alfonse’s mishap with a scarecrow that Sharena strategically placed in his room, to how Alfonse compared the two of you. “Well you're both tacticians, you wear an ominous cloak and have little to no memory of your past. He mentioned this not even a week after Robin’s arrival, bringing it up when he had seen the two of you working closely to determine Veronica’s next move. Robin and you chuckled over the memory, gesturing to how still to this day you chose to wear the garb in question.

You remembered that Sharena had picked up on how in sync the two of you were, saying something along the lines of, “it’s not just about the whole planning thing, it’s like at this point you don’t even exchange words you just know. You know what the other is thinking without even trying.” To which Anna added in passing that if it weren’t for the fact that you couldn’t fight, Robin and you would make a pretty good team.

That was enough to spark something in Robin. He set down his tome on the table immediately, grasping your attention. “Anna’s right.” You looked at him curiously, the cloak covering your features, but the tilt of your head gave it away. “She was right about...what exactly?” You weren’t sure if this was about being a great team or... disappointed that you, the summoner, were not capable of fighting in this domain. That was until he got up from his seat and leaned closer to you from across the table. “We make an undeniably good team (Y/N), which had me thinking. Some of the heroes who fight day to day together, they’ve started supporting each other...and so...” He paused briefly, gauging your current reaction and continued. “(Y/N), will you support me? And allow me to support you.” You had to take a minute to reflect on what it was he was asking you to do, after all, you were the summoner, someone with no weapons on hand. “Robin I...You know that I can’t fight, so then how would this hel-” Without letting you come up with your own conclusion he picked up where he left off. “(Y/N), you being there by my side, that’s enough for me. I promise. With you there the expeditions will be twice as successful, we may be able to free other heroes from their contracts. I know that with your support, I will be a better tactician.”

Although it was unheard of, as you’ve never personally supported a hero before, you agreed. This would help the both of you, and in turn, your army. You couldn’t wait to start the next day by Robin’s side, helping him find tomes in the library that could be of use and observing him train in the tower, owning his skills as both a mage and as a tactician.

Author's note!

So long story short as to why this took forever to post, I ended up breaking my phone which had the whole thing on it. This includes being unable to play the game as well. I’m currently working on getting that on my laptop instead so I can still play because dammit, I finally got Robin, not gonna let that go to waste.

Robin is one of my favorites (along with countless other characters, FE doesn’t have a shortage of them), but I’m still new to the series as a whole imo.

Also funny thing, I’m not summoner supporting M!Robin, it’s actually a different character. However, one of my best friends is supporting Robin and sends me screenshots. It was so cute I just couldn’t not write something!

[diamond-song42]

Card Shark 20: Silverstream, Everything's New!

(Bugle if you're reading this please don't kill me)

It's time for the big 20th Card Shark! Doing another Ultra Rare this time. Today we move to the Friends Forever Ultra Rare Mane that was brought to life with the help of one of our own! Yes, this one was conceptualized by eBugle of Commentary is Magic, and while I am a fan of this card, I hope he doesn't put me on his hitlist for this critique. Here's my thoughts on "Silverstream, Everything's New!"

She has discovered stairs and they are awesome. This might be the first Mane we've had that has an Immediate flip effect, which is pretty easy to activate. You can play two Friends to her Problem or have her face two of your opponent's characters. Onto the flip side of things, she gains Eccentric 2 (one of my favorite keywords) along with the option to exhaust her to draw a card after confronting her Problem. Not gonna lie, when I first read this I immediately thought it was a new version of DJ Pon-3, Party Starter. They have the same color and a similar effect where you exhaust them to draw one card (DJ during the Main Phase, Silverstream during the Score Phase). Looking at them now, I think it’s great. I like how the CCG has (kinda) carried DJ into the Core format. (Though I don’t think one is stronger than the other! Ultimately I would pick DJ as my favorite of the two, but I would still happily use this in a Core deck of the same nature.) Pink loves to draw cards, so if that’s your strategy, this is a really strong Mane. The Eccentric 2 is also nice if you’re facing decks that don’t particularly like to boost power, like Yellow or even Pink itself. Everything’s new, yet it’s also familiar at the same time, and that’s pretty cool!

Now what do I think are this card's weak spots? First I'll say that while I like Eccentric 2, it's pretty easy to slip past, especially in Orange decks. Exhausting her is not much of an issue either since it happens after you use her power to confront her Problem. But what if you're prepping for a Faceoff and decide to draw an extra? As I like to say, power is power and 3 can still make a difference in a Faceoff. While you'd presumably avoid this with careful timing, what if your OPPONENT starts a Faceoff with Silverstream exhausted? It's not a great scenario. As for comparing her with DJ, I think this is one area where DJ beats her since DJ can ready at the start of the Score Phase. However, there are LOTS of cards that can help make up for this deficiency. I guess what I’m saying is that you should use this card to your heart’s content because STAIRS ARE AWESOME!

Now here are some cards I recommend using with Stair Birb:

*Pinkie Pie, Grump. This Troublemaker is Pink’s best friend. Pink likes to draw, and this thing gets stronger with every draw. Not just yours, but your opponent’s as well. There’s a plethora of cards I could tell you to play with this, but that will have to wait for a future Shark. For now, Silverstream likes this one because she can stick one power counter on this guy every confront. You have to time playing this one carefully, though - you don’t want your opponent getting 2 bonus points off a 3 power TM. I also want to point out that this card isn’t legal in the Core format, so if you’re focusing on building Core, you might want to pay attention to the next cards on this list.

*Babs Seed, Cutie Marked. While this card doesn’t have the permanent power boost Grump gains whenever you draw, it’s still a nice source of power for you, especially if you try a double Problem confront. After drawing Celestia knows how much, you confront Silverstream’s Problem and exhaust her to draw. Then you confront the now boosted Babs’s Problem and go for the DFO. I’d say it’s worth it for 3 AT! Plus, if something allows you to draw a card during your opponent’s turn, she is still boosted since it isn’t limited to your turn! That’s even better... especially if you combine it with the next card I recommend.

*Somnambula, Pillar of Hope. Boola takes no prisoners. Your opponent plays with their hand revealed so you can see what’s coming. Then you choose a card type and draw a card whenever your opponent draws that card type. This is a good play a little later in the game when you already have a good grasp on what your opponent is running. I'm kinda stunned how many Pink cards actually like the right timing - I would've thought they were more Random. (Bad pun is bad but I had nothing else)

*Berry Punch, Party Preparations. Here’s a card I usually would NOT recommend you use solely for the fact you pay 4 AT and 2/2 color req for 0 base power. As a whole, I’m not a fan of cards that have X power for the number of cards in your hand. But when the whole point of your deck is to draw, draw, draw? Use Berry all the way! Plus, you can exhaust her to draw an additional card during your Main Phase AND have her confront Problems with Stubborn! 

*Snips and Snails, Minor Problem. Here’s an idea if you’re going the Troublemaker route: Have these little buggers in play and, after you pay your 1 to play Grump or another TM of your choice to their Problem, exhaust these two and uncover it! With Grump, you can start powering her up sooner with Silverstream’s draw effect. If you like Villains, you can uncover one with these dynamic duo and have them still standing since they can’t be frightened. I do think this card is underrated, why do you ask?

*Discord, Party Clasher. Maybe you’re not going the Pink/Orange route but still want to pull off some card fuckery. Party Clasher may have gotten errata, but he can still do that! Not only does he allow you to draw, but he can temporarily take and bring back a heavy-hitting Friend to do some damage. Many options for this, all worthy of their own article (maybe soon since I'm expanding to all 10 sets again!). Though he can't do the same things he could when he was "when this card enters play" and not "when you play this card," I’d argue that there are new things you can do with him now to bypass this (Mistmane, maybe?).

*Balloonoculars. Another of my favorite cards! This hand revealer allows you to not only draw a card specifically when your opponent draws an Event, but put power counters on your Friends when your opponent draws a Friend. You can plan many plays around this - Silverstream will thank you for preparing her confront and exhaustion wisely.

And with that, the 20th Card Shark comes to a close. Starting with the next column, I’m going to cycle through each set, starting with Premiere next week, then moving on to Canterlot Nights the week after that, and so on. Don’t forget to vote for the card TYPE you’d like to see me cover next on my Twitter @diamondsong42! Diamond out!

[lesbeet]

long post ahead

ive been thinking nonstop about the possibility of me having adhd since my sister and her boyfriend brought it up to me last week (i’m FINALLY seeing my therapist today so we can talk about it) and i’ve been doing a lot of research and i found the howtoadhd channel on youtube

and literally the number of times in the past 2 hours alone that i’ve teared up or started legitimately crying because of how much i relate to things that these videos are saying is ridiculous, like some of them are word-for-word things i’ve said that i had NO inkling of an idea could be related to adhd

like this one video of this guy who was diagnosed at 43 and said that prior to his diagnosis he had just accepted that he would feel dissatisfied for his whole life, that he would never feel content, i’ve been saying that for YEARS and just was resigned to it and chalked it up solely to my depression

and just like. having been able to do well in school as a kid but constantly being told that i’m “not living up to [my] potential” and now that i’m in my early 20s and my intelligence can’t compensate for like....not being able to regulate my emotions and not being able to organize my life and not being able to motivate myself to do things, which is supposedly why a number of people get diagnosed around this time, because metrics for success are different in adulthood (you can’t just take a test and rely on being smart to compensate for all the other problems), and i was always just. thinking that i fucked up and wasted my life through laziness or whatever the case may be

i’ve always considered myself to be “crafty” and “resourceful” in the sense that i may not go about doing things in the typical way but i can almost always find a way to accomplish what i need accomplished, even if it’s unconventional -- apparently that’s common with adhd too! like i’ll say “oh i couldn’t figure out how to do [x] so i did [y and z]” and someone will be like “why didn’t you just do [thing everyone else does]” and usually i either couldn’t figure out how, or it didn’t occur to me, and my way was weird and unconventional, but it worked for me!

and then of course i’m just recognizing all these signs that have always been there that i either didn’t notice or attributed to other things -- i’ve been trying to observe the way my attention functions this week and literally i space out and miss things SO much more often than i ever realized, like i miss so much information because i’ve drifted off. or i get really stuck on things in conversations and even after everyone else has moved on i have this urge to bring it back so i can say that last thing i’ve been rehearsing over and over for the past 5 minutes so i didn’t forget it, and now it’s in my head and everyone is talking about something else and it’s SO inconsequential but i have to forcibly drag myself away from whatever the thing is (yesterday my sister and her friend and i were talking about early 2000′s fashion and i wanted to make a comment about wearing ugly scarves as belts and they saw a dog and moved on to talking about cute things our dogs have done and i just couldn’t stop thinking about the scarves as belts thing for like 10 minutes until i just had to sigh and be like...well i can’t bring that up again now)

when i was younger i would rush through tests so i could go back to whatever book i was reading and i just thought it was a silly quirk like “oh i just like to read lol” but i realized i still do similar things -- if i’m reading a book or watching a show or working on something, THAT is what i’m doing. anything else, whether it’s work or sleep or eating or hanging out with a friend or fulfilling any sort of responsibility? that’s a break from the thing i’m doing. if i’m reading a book, even if it’s the 3rd time i’m rereading harry potter for the year, for example, then in my head, i’m reading harry potter. i have to go to work all day but then i can read harry potter. all i’m doing is thinking about reading harry potter. i rush through my responsibilities so i can go BACK to reading harry potter, because that’s what i’m doing and anything else is just taking a break from reading harry potter. (you see how this can negatively affect the accomplishment/fulfillment of important tasks and responsibilities)

and my sister has pointed out things that i didn’t really notice, like she said it’s really difficult to hold a conversation with me when i’m excited about something because i can’t calm down enough to let the other person talk. and i’ve always known that i tend to finish peoples’ sentences for them during conversations, which i always thought was a way of showing that i’m listening! but ive realized it’s actually that, if i already know what you’re going to say, and you’re saying it too slowly, i get impatient and i need to blurt out the rest for you so we can move on and i can say my next thing before i forget it

and like obviously all people experience some symptoms some of the time, daydreaming isn’t exclusive to adhd, neither is walking into a room and forgetting what you’re doing there. but this week as i’ve been paying attention, i notice i do it CONSTANTLY. the other night i opened up my phone before bed because i remembered i hadn’t set my alarm, so i picked it up from where i place it for the night (i was about to go to sleep). 15 minutes later i put my phone back down and decided to turn in for the night again, and then realized i still had never turned the alarm on because i got distracted and did other stuff. and things like that happen with almost comical regularity, now that i know to look for it.

i’ve known i have executive dysfunction issues for a long time so i won’t go into those, but like we’ve known i have problems with directions and organization and spatial processing and knowing how to complete tasks for a long time

the rejection-sensitive dysphoria is something i didn’t really realize was part of adhd, but it makes SO much sense. i think it’s part of why i thought i had bpd for a while, because a lot of the symptoms were similar and i knew i was dealing with something more than just depression and anxiety but didn’t know what, and a lot of the symptoms i experienced also seemed to fit the bpd diagnosis even if my actual behavior and personality didn’t seem to

there are so many more things i’ve noticed this week and thought about differently but i literally can’t remember what they are lmao i think i’m gonna try to write stuff down so i don’t forget to tell my therapist today but like. 

so many of these things i didn’t realize had anything to do with adhd, like emotional dysregulation, i’ve always known i have horrible mood swings and trouble regulating my emotions, i’ve always noticed a lot of these different symptoms but it never occurred to me that they could all be part of the same thing??

like i haven’t been tested or diagnosed yet and i’m worried i’m getting carried away but the only time i’ve ever felt this sort of relief was a few months ago when realizing my dad is a narcissist. like the feeling of “oh my god, i knew this was something i experienced but i didn’t think i could attribute it to anything” and “oh my god, this is word for word something i say all the time, i didn’t realize it was part of a pattern”

and it genuinely made me cry! hearing people talk about things that describe me that i never would have guessed might have to do with adhd, finding something that seems to encompass a very broad range of symptoms that i previously thought were unrelated or results of a myriad of things (and obviously they all play off of one another but that’s a whole separate issue)

but it would explain so much of my behavior and challenges -- why i struggle with finishing up a task or project once the big, complicated part is done; why i get super obsessed with something and then once it wears off i never mention or think about it again; why i’ve always needed my mom’s help to clean my closet or pack for a trip, even though i felt like i was way too old to need help with that; why people constantly are like “i know you heard me say this because you said ‘ok’” about things i genuinely have no recollection of

but i just can’t stop thinking about that guy talking about how he was just resigned to thinking he would never been satisfied or content with his life because that is something i have been feeling and saying FOREVER, for years ive just been like “everything is so hard, the idea of spending the rest of my life struggling to get up in the morning and going to work every day, dealing with all my responsibilities, i feel like i’m exhausted and underwater just thinking about it, i’m never going to feel fulfilled or satisfied, it’s always just going to be slogging through my responsibilities and it’s never going to end” and apparently that’s....a normal thing, and i just thought it was depression and maybe part of it is, but maybe the reason i struggle so much with those every day things is because my brain is wired differently?

and maybe i’ve fucked up because at this point i think i’ll be really disappointed if i don’t get the diagnosis because i’m not really sure what else could explain these issues, it certainly makes sense and i feel like it fits and i feel relieved just thinking about having that answer, and it certainly negatively impacts almost every aspect (if not every aspect) of my life. so like if i don’t get diagnosed idk what i’m gonna do and i probably fucked up by spending the last week obsessing over it lol

but like....the relief i feel every time i read or hear or see someone with adhd say “i experience [x]” and i’m like holy shit??? me too???? and it just. feels like maybe there’s an explanation for all this horrible dissatisfaction and unhappiness i thought i was going to be stuck with for the rest of my life, and there are other people who experience these things and there are things that can be done, medication and therapy and strategies and...my whole life doesn’t NEED to feel like a challenge, maybe it’s not an indisputable fact that i’m just going to have to live with forever.

if you read this far and you have adhd (especially if you were diagnosed after childhood) i would love to hear your thoughts on this, obviously i didn’t list every single symptom and experience and i know there are more but these are all i could think of at the moment, if i seem like i’m way off base obviously please let me know

[alicescripts]

Part 3, Chapter 3: “Means of Escape”

Keisha: Beyond the sink is a bed. Sitting on the bed is a person in a gray hoodie, hood pulled up. Their face is lost in the shadow. But I think I know now I could go as close as I wanted to that hood, and still wouldn’t be able to see a face.

They sit on the edge of the bed, body toward us, a hand on each thigh. I expect to feel a wave of powerful energy coming off of them, but I don’t.

Alice: A cloud passes over the sun. It gets dim in the trailer.

Keisha: “We’ve come a long way to talk to you,” I say. They say nothing back. Anxiety is working my gut, but it does the same when I’m ordering pancakes at a truck stop, when I’m getting up to pee in the middle of the night. I can’t trust my anxiety.

Alice: But there were no clouds in the sky.

Keisha: “Hello?” I say. Silly. If they wanted to respond, they would.

I reach out, hesitant but knowing what I need to do. I touch them. They slump backwards. The Oracle is dead.

Alice: From outside, I hear a wet huffing and whooping. I don’t even have to look out the window to know…

Keisha: The trailer is surrounded by Thistle Men.

Alice Isn’t Dead by Joseph Fink. Performed by Jasika Nicole and Erica Livingston. Produced by Disparition. Part 3, Chapter 3: “Means of Escape”.

Alice: I don’t know where this trip started, what counts as the first moment, but for lack of a better answer, I’ll start with this. I’ll start with the amazing painted rocks.

I needed to pee, and it seemed a more interesting stop than a fast food place. As I was coming back from the bathroom, I went to look at the rocks, because why not, right? I was there.

They were better than they had looked when Keisha and I came back years later, but not by much. They were rocks, they were painted. They delivered on both fronts. As I stood there, I noticed movement on the rise above the rocks, a person thrashing around. Choking maybe, or a heart attack. No, not a person, two people. A man attacking a woman.

I have anxiety too, I don’t know if Keisha ever knew that. But my anxiety doesn’t turn inwards. I project it. I see the whole world as being as scared as I am, and I get this irresistible urge to come to its defense.

So I ran up that hill and attacked the man. His skin was baggy and his teeth were sharp. He was strong.

I had misunderstood my abilities in this situation. But the woman who he had attacked clambered to her feet and together we fought him. She pulled a knife from her belt, stabbed him through the throat. He gurgled, leaked yellow pus and fell to the ground.

I couldn’t move. We had killed someone. But the woman, she didn’t look at the man we had killed, she looked only at me. “My name is Lucy,” she said, “and most people wouldn’t have done what you just did. We could use a woman like you. How would you feel about a job?

Keisha: A patter of hands on the outside of the trailer. Gravity made wild moves. They were pushing the trailer back and forth, tipping it over just for the fun of knocking us around before the real violence began.

The body of the oracle we had come to see fell sideways onto the mattress, and then slumped to the floor as light and small as a child. I started toward them, but what would be the point? They were gone. Soon we would be too.

[howls] “Ahoooooooooooooo!” said a voice from the outside. [spitty] “Lumffffffffffffffffff,” shouted another. The Thistle Men were getting excited.

I took Alice’s hand, I kept my eyes on the body of the oracle, and then the oracle was alive again. They were still limp on the ground but also simultaneously standing over their own body. [whispers] “I’m already dead! Run! RUN!” the oracle said. And then there was only the body.

In my head, I saw a black boat floating forever at the mouth of a river. I pulled Alice with me out of the trailer. There were at least 20 Thistle men and they cheered upon seeing us, but I concentrated on a gap in their number and I made for the SUV. I wasn’t ten feet away when I saw the SUV had been disabled. Tires slashed, steering wheel sitting in the passenger seat.

The exhaustion of my despair was mixed with an adrenaline jolt of fear. Behind us, the Thistle Men flapped their lips as they tore toward us, making a strange jittering sound.

Alice: I took the job. If there were monsters in the world, then I couldn’t pretend everything was fine. I have the urge always to protect, and so I followed that urge.

It was torture hiding it from Keisha. But I had already been going regularly on business trips. I kept the same schedule, but instead of selling bathroom supplies to large office clients, Lucy and I hunted down the Thistle Men.

When we weren’t working, Lucy trained me. Hand to hand combat, first aid, target shooting, basic tactics. The tedious step by tiny step nature of detective work. Most of all, she trained me to trust her.

It was the murder of Bernard Hamilton when it happened. We were looking over the body and I thought, “Oh my god. This feels normal. This feels like a day on any job.”

And I didn’t recognize myself, this person who was so used to violence. My heart surged. I couldn’t breathe. I was in a panic over how calm I was. I didn’t let it show. I kept doing the job.

It went on this way for years, maybe could have gone that way forever, but circumstances changed and my double life became untenable.

Keisha: The Thistle Men were on us and we kicked and pushed them, pulling each other along, staying just ahead of their grasping hands. There was an old sedan, a boxy 90’s model. The tires were low, looked like it barely run. One of the vehicles that Thistle had arrived with, presumably. We made it to the car, and the keys were in the ignition. Alice fought off a particularly fast Thistle Man, and then fell backwards into the car next to me.

“This is in (all wheel drive)”, I said. “How did they even get this out here?” but there was no time to consider that, I could only do my best to steer it away from any ruts or patches of heavy sand that would snare it.

I pointed it toward the highway and started driving. Soon we were a good mile away, and I was able to start breathing again. “Foolish,” I said. “Just foolish.” “At least we’re safe,” said Alice, and I went to slap her shoulder for jinxing us, when the car ran right into a hole I hadn’t seen and stopped dead. I tried to start it, but whatever dark power had kept its old engine together was done. The car was done.

Alice: Thistle was going after family members. Lucy told it to me plain with a minimum of emotion. She never got emotionally invested in much. She wasn’t cold, just – practical.

The family members of Bay and Creek operatives were being found out and murdered. Word wasn’t coming down from the top, because they didn’t want panic, but Lucy thought I should know.

The choice was simple to me. I needed to leave Bay and Creek. I believed in what we were doing, believed in the importance of our fight, but Keisha was (all of it) for me, and I wasn’t gonna give her up.

“It won’t work,” Lucy told me. “Thistle won’t care if you’re still active, they’re in it for the carnage, not the strategy. And how much worse will it be without Bay and Creek’s protection?” I didn’t know what to do. I stopped sleeping, mostly stopped eating. I had joined because I wanted Keisha and everyone like her to be safe, and now my actions had put her in even more danger than before.

Lucy kept bringing me stories, more Bay and Creek operatives dead. Chaos in the head office. No one knew what to do.

That last time I left home, I thought I would come back. But I couldn’t stop thinking about Keisha, who was frightened about even the minutia of daily living. Having to face one of those boneless loose-skinned boogeymen? She would be helpless, and it would be my fault. I would indirectly be her murdered.

So I didn’t come back. It destroyed me. But I am a protector, I had to remove myself from Keisha’s life, letting her think that I had died. I just didn’t know any other way to do it.

Keisha: We had been walking for two hours and still no highway. I was staring to lose sense of direction. For all I knew, we were heading deeper into the wilderness. The afternoon heat was brutal. We had no water, and so we carried our thirst in our bodies. Thirst is heavy. It made us slow, made us stoop. The howls of the Thistle Men came from all sides. Hooting and laughing and whooping. We couldn’t tell distance at all. They could be right upon us or miles back.

I stopped, looked back at Alice. What were we doing? If this was it, did we want to spend the end wandering purposelessly? “Keep going,” she said. [sighs] “Keep going where?” I said. I searched out surroundings, not recognizing any landmark. And then, I saw a glint against the horizon and pointed at it before I knew what I was looking at. I thought of a time in Death Valley, a light in the sky above the Badlands. Alice laughed in relief. “A reflection off a car,” she said. “It’s the highway. [sighs] Oh, thank god you saw that.” “Yeah,” I said, “Thank god.” I don’t know what I saw.

We were so close to the highway, maybe 40 more feet, when I heard Alice gasp. I turned. A Thistle Man, his crooked baggy face grinning at me, as he squeezed his arm around my wife’s throat.

Alice: It felt as though the part of me that was human was gone. What is a person outside of the context of others? As George Eliot wrote: “What do we live for, if it is not to make life less difficult to each other?” Stripped of that, I still ate and breathed and shit, but I was not Alice. And I wanted nothing more than to be Alice.

I took no comfort in my hollowness, there is nothing romantic about it. It was a sickness, and I had left the only cure behind. Home was a person and I wanted to go home.

“How would you explain it to her?” Lucy said to me. “Where would you say you’ve been?” “I don’t know,” I told her. “I’ll figure it out.” “No,” Lucy said. “You try to explain it to me, right now, out loud. Where you’ve been as though you were talking to Keisha. I wanna hear the story you’d tell.” Of course I couldn’t. I couldn’t. The conversation ended there.

Month passed, then one day I considered a sight that had become ubiquitous in my life. The news crews covering the violent event we were investigating that day. In my despair, I stopped and I watched the crew film. Without allowing myself to think about what I was doing, I pushed my way through and stood at the front of the crowd of onlookers and I stared straight into the camera. Hoping that somehow, Keisha would end up on the other side of the stare.

Lucy was furious, as you can imagine. But I didn’t stop. A fire outside of Tacoma. Landslide in Thousand Oaks. A hostage situation in Saint Joseph. I kept doing it. Would I have done if it I had known it would lead Keisha to doing what she did? Probably not. I had sacrificed everything to keep her safe, and here my impulsiveness sent her careening out into the most dangerous places of all.

Keisha: [breathless] “Run,” said Alice. “Just run, please!” The Thistle Man snorted. It sounded like a boot pulling out of mud. [terrifying] “Yeah, run chipmunk,” he oozed. “Run away.” Branches cracking interview eh brush around us, yelps close by. Alice was sobbing and she was mouthing “go” over and over as the ropey arms circled her tighter and tighter.

Well fuck that and fuck the Thistle Men! I charged toward him, howling back sounding for all the world like one of them. I had become more than willing to meet their violence with my own, and I had learned a thing or two about how to do that. Alice thrashed as her oxygen was fully cut off, but I was already driving my thumbs into both of the Thistle Man’s eyes, pushing inward and upward as hard as I could, until I felt them squish beneath me. He screamed and let Alice loose, thrashing blindly at me. His hand connected with my head once then twice, and the world went away for a moment. I couldn’t hear out of one ear, I could hardly see.

Alice regained her breath, went in for a kick but caught the rebound from one of his swings and was on the ground again. He turned, sensing her vulnerability, and I used that moment to heft a rock and take it to him, over and over until he was down, Alive but incapacitated, in a puddle of that yellow glob that fills their bodies. “Hffffffffffffff,” he shouted at me. “Woooooooooooooooo.” I used the rock one last time, right onto his face, and he didn’t say anything after that. “We have to go,” I said to Alice, pulling her up. “I’ll help you,” she said, trying to put her arm around me and I could almost laugh. Almost. “Hun, you can hardly walk. I will be helping you.” I could hear out of my one good ear that the rest of the Thistle Men were upon us. I pulled us the last 30 feet to the highway, where I began wildly waving for help. a truck driver stopped and I hurriedly but successfully convinced him that we were one of his kind and just needed to get a ride to whatever the next town was.

From there, we were able to rent another car. We got the nicest one they had, because we knew that our line of credit would be burned anyway once the other rental company realized they weren’t getting their car back. So might as well run up that bill if we were gonna skip out on it.

The nicest one they had was only OK. It was a small town agency. And from there, back to Midland and our truck.

As we pulled up to our home on the road ,I stopped the car and turned to Alice. “I saved you,” I said. “I saved you, OK? So go ahead, kid yourself that everything you did was because I needed protection and so that justifies it somehow. But you remember this. you remember that I saved you and not the other way around.” I got out of the car and into our truck, and from there we went out of town and onto Texas, and onto whatever was gonna happen to us next.

Today’s quote: “Does anyone suppose a private prayer is necessarily candid, necessarily goes to the roots of action? Private prayer is inaudible speech, and speech is representative. Who can represent himself such as he is, even in his own reflections?” from Middlemarch by George Eliot. Thanks for listening. 

[kyloswarstars]

where do i belong?

Divergent, Oneshot Summary: Reader is confused and tries to find out where she belongs. Pairing: Eric x Reader Warning: swearing Words: 5.4K A/N: I hope this is not a disaster. Enjoy. Any similarities to other writers’ work are not intended. All ideas used in a fanfiction I post are made up in my brain (as long as it is not a request).

/////

You didn’t quite get why Amity was the way it was. Everyone was happy and all about peace and harmony. Smiling day in day out. Growing vegetables, harvesting, speaking in low voices, no running – just peacefully coexisting.

And then there was you. Internally screaming from all that rage that has built up inside over all those years. You couldn’t stand all this bullshit about living together in one big family. Your parents always used to tell you that Amity was your family, not just the people you were related by blood.

Bullshit, you thought. All of it. And you punched that bullshit out of the sandbag in front of you. Since you arrived at Dauntless after the Choosing Ceremony, you felt that shift going on inside of you. That shift you couldn’t name. There was suddenly more peace that calmed your soul than you ever had when you were still back in Amity.

„Y/N! Come.“ A hand on your shoulder stopped you from hitting relentlessly your enemy – the sandbag. Eric. With a quick glance you realised everyone else was gone. Training was already over?

„What’s going on?“ His squeezed eyes locking with yours. Capturing you like a few days ago your team captured the flag of Four’s team.

„I… I just…“ All of that rage was still seething inside of your head, your whole body. It made you unable to form eloquent sentences.

„I?“

„I was just giving everything to that stupid thing dangling down the ceiling.“

He took a deep breath, probably trying not to lose his temper. „Yeah, I saw that. What’s going on?“ And he mumbled something like ‚won’t ask you a third time‘.

Maybe you should be intimidated by his very existence. But the thing was: you weren’t. You weren’t because you came to Dauntless to be surrounded by intimidating things and people. You sucked them in like air. You thought they would make you feel like you finally belonged somewhere.

You weren’t intimidated by Eric, nor his nearly exploding muscles or his always present anger he never tried to hide. Actually in some kind of freaky way you were feeling the slightest of attraction for him. Not sexual attraction but spiritual attraction. You respected him because he was badass and never backed down. At least you didn’t see him back down since you were here. Eric was extremely unfriendly – something you could finally be too. In Amity you had glued a mask over your face. You ripped it off as soon as you let your blood drop over the hot coals of Dauntless.

„I tried to release some aggression.“

„Makes sense.“ His eyes were still locked with yours. „Now go and grab some dinner. Aggression is not the only key to fighting. Food provides energy. You’ll need that.“

You nodded and walked off to the locker room.

One cold shower later you sat down along the other initiates. They already finished dinner and went onto drinking.

/////

That week Eric told you every day to stop throwing punches to your beloved sandbag when training was over. You never noticed when Four would release the initiates to dinner. You just punched and punched and punched.

„Still aggressive?“ Erics lips curled up into a mischievous grin.

You thought about telling him what you were thinking. And you were like ‚fuck it‘ so you did. „Apparently aggression is not willing to leave me, no matter how hard I hit that fucking thing.“

„You remember what I told you, Y/N?“

„Yeah.“ Aggression is not the only key to fighting. Something your father would say if he believed in fighting – which he didn’t.

„Well, aggression may not be the only key to fighting but it sure is a good catalyst for hard punches.“ You walked side by side through the training grounds. He stopped when you passed the ring. „But aggression can also be… devastating in some situations. It blinds you, makes you vulnerable. You should learn how to control yourself better.“ He stepped onto the mat. „Fight me.“

You shook your head. Yeah, you had a lot of aggression inside of you. And yeah, you punched for hours a sandbag every day. But fuck no, you weren’t good enough to step into ring with fucking Eric-the-Dauntless-leader.

„Too weak?“ He made fun of you. „Too afraid?“ He made more fun of you because he knew it would work just the way he wanted. „Are you still an Amity?“ And it so did work.

You moved your feet onto the mat. Aggressively breathing and locking eyes with him. You were probably red like a tomato, neatly grown in Amity’s greenhouse. You hated those. And that was good because you built up even more anger thinking of tomato salad and tomatoes on sandwiches and tomatoes in every shape Amity put it in.

Then everything came naturally to you. In the past few weeks you had learned a lot about fighting, strategies and winning.

First your fist reached out for Erics face. He easily dodged that punch. He also dodged the next ones. Eric kept being passive – he didn’t attack. That made you even more furious. Your hands tried to hurt him but his body was always out of reach no matter were you two stood. Like you tried to catch a fish in it’s aquarium. It always slipped because you were so eager to get it.

Then you stepped back. In your head you tried to come up with a plan to throw him on the mat. You were small. Not to small. But a lot smaller than him. You needed to take advantage of that.

So you distracted him for a little while. Throwing punches that didn’t make any sense. You waited for that one second he was too bored by your sloppy fighting. And when it came, you made yourself small and rammed your fist in his guts – so hard you sent him to the mat.

A satisfied grin grew on your lips and you lent him a hand to get up.

„That was alright, Y/N.“

Alright was alright for you.

„Tomorrow again?“ He smiled too. It was kind of odd to see him with a genuine smile on his lips.

„Yeah.“

/////

After training started real training with Eric. He explained how you needed to train you to get through initiation. You didn’t exactly know why he wanted you to become a Dauntless member but you appreciated it and didn’t ask any questions about it.

So you two were fighting forever that evening. He didn’t stay passive like he did yesterday. He attacked. And that took everything you had. At some point you were losing your temper because Eric hit your nose again and again. It was bleeding like the water was rushing down the chasm.

„Why the fuck can’t you let my nose be my nose? You’re a broken nose fetishist or what?“, you shouted. Training with Eric was exhausting. Way more than just hitting the sandbag. Or training with other initiates.

„What would you do if i said i am?“

„You don’t want to know, Eric.“

He smiled mischievous. Again. „Come on, hold your back up. Just because your in pain you can’t let your posture turn into that of an old woman that needs a cane.“

He asked, you answered. For another at least ten minutes you attacked him as hard as you could, working yourself through his defence and placed some punches that were fuelled by anger and aggression but not controlled by it. You controlled them. And that was the difference you learned from Eric. When you were in control you could do nearly everything when you worked hard enough.

But because Eric was Eric and this time he did fight back – you landed with a hurting back on the mat at the end of the training session.

„I’d say we’re over for today.“

You nodded in agreement, stood up and wiping away the blood of your still bleeding nose with the back of your hand.

„That was alright, Y/N. Tomorrow we’re doing this again.“

„Alright.“

„Now let’s grab some food. I’m starving.“

You both changed into some clean black clothes and headed out together. Apparently you trained too long. No sign of food available to satisfy your hungry bodies with new energy.

„Never mind“, Eric turned around and walked off. „You’re coming Y/N? If not I’m gonna eat all the stuff I have in my room on my own.“

You hesitated for a moment. Was it appropriate to go with him? Eric was still one of the leaders of Dauntless. You didn’t want to get into trouble that could cause you ending up as a factionless. But in that moment you were craving food so much that you could still care about being factionless if you were kicked out of Dauntless.

/////

Eric’s emergency-food-closet was filled with canned food, bread, peanuts and bananas. You both grabbed as much as you could.

„Over here.“ He guided you to a window, opened it with his elbow and headed out onto the roof. It had already gotten dark but that was alright. Darkness was always alright for you because you had to stand in the burning sun for years when you were in Amity. Not that you dreaded the sun or working in general. You just dreaded standing in the sun and working Amity work.

You didn’t talk while you ate. You for sure didn’t dare to say something. What if you asked a question and Eric flipped? That wouldn’t end good.

Canned beans with bread and peanuts with bananas never tasted that good. Ever. You were kind of losing yourself in euphoria because of food and new energy flooding your worn out body and food and new collected knowledge and food.

„Why did you leave Amity?“ Eric getting personal? Huh.

„I didn’t belong there.“

Eric hmmmmmd and stopped chewing. „And you belong to Dauntless?“

You shrugged and tried to sound casually. „Yup.“ You didn’t want him to know that you desperately wanted to be a Dauntless. For years you couldn’t think about something else than finally getting into Dauntless and become something you’re cut out for: guarding the fence. Why you knew you were supposed to do this? Your whole life was spent by doing things in an environment that insisted on peaceful interaction to function as a faction. But you simply didn’t have it in you. Your sister did. Your three brothers did. But you wanted to use your hands differently. You wanted to hold a gun, to throw punches if it needs to be, to use your brain as a weapon – not for growing tomatoes.

Also you wanted to be in Dauntless because you were tired of wearing red and yellow. You wanted black.

„Then you’d better get in.“

/////

Weeks passed and you got in. Months passed and you got your job. You were guarding the fence. You were good at it. You enjoyed it.

More months passed and your body was covered in tattoos and some piercings.

After a year or so you got promoted. First you didn’t want to agree because you didn’t want to leave the fence, but then you did. You started taking responsibility for ten to twenty people under you, guarding trains loaded with goods departing Amity grounds.

It was strange to come back to Amity, seeing all that people you used to be around. Eventually at some point seeing your siblings. And one day your mother. She smiled at you – she hasn’t taken it personally that you left, told you all the time it was your own decision what to do with your life. She smiled at you, started walking towards you. But you couldn’t do this. With your gun in aiming position you turned around and erased her out of your vision. You had a job to do.

That was honestly your first bad day since you started your initiation nearly two years ago. A really bad fucked up day. Besides that one where you took a bullet.

For the rest of your working hours you couldn’t concentrate, afraid your mother would come up and try to speak to you. You weren’t able to handle this if she would. Good for you she didn’t. Maybe your appearance was to intimidating.

When the train started to move back to the city, breathing was a torture.

When you were back at Dauntless you gave final instructions to your people then disappearing to your room. You threw your heavy gear onto the floor and stripped down to your underwear and then put on your sports wear. Heading straight for your beloved sandbag in the big training hall. Everyone knew it was yours, no one ever dared to train there. So you punched it heavy. For hours. But nothing changed. You had seen your mother today and that was… shit. You always thought about what you had left behind when you came to Dauntless. Never who you left behind.

Your knuckles tried to punch it out. That you were missing your mother, your family. Even if they were Amity through and through. Even if you weren’t supposed to miss them because faction before blood.

„Y/N!“ Erics voice shouted through the hall. You didn’t stop. „One of your people told me you were distracted and didn’t fulfil your duty properly.“

You didn’t react. You just punched the sandbag again and again. Faster with every punch. „Y/N, I’m talking to you as a leader of Dauntless. Not as your mate.“ He could suck your not existing dick. You didn’t answer him, you just threw wild punches.

„Y/N.“ Eric came around and grabbed the sandbag, forcing you to look at him. You were raging and could hardly keep your cool. „What happened?“, he asked and let go off the sandbag. As soon as he stood in front of you, you pushed him. He stumbled back. Only one step but still. You pushed him again. And again. Then you started to hit him against his broad chest. As long until he grabbed your wrists.

„You wanna fight, huh?“

„Hell yeah.“

Eric dragged you to one of the mats and then you two crushed into each other. Since your initiation your fighting had changed a lot. Back then you were alright. Now you were a fucking machine. Muscles everywhere that burned to hit Eric. To bring him pain. He could deal with that. You couldn’t deal with what was going on inside of your head.

„What happened?“ Eric’s arm around your neck, pushing you down. You slammed your elbow into his balls, grabbed his arm, turned it and threw him to the ground. You could hold yourself on top of him for a few seconds, then he rolled the two of you around, him on top and staying there. „Tell me.“

„I can’t.“

„Wrong. You don’t want to.“ Now he wasn’t speaking to you as a leader of Dauntless anymore. He was talking to you as your friend he became over the years.

„Yeah, you’re fucking right, Eric. I don’t want to talk to you about bullshit that is only my business.“

Eric didn’t think about getting off you. He just stayed where he was and leaned back. Unimpressed by your shifting under him to get free.

„I guess you’re right, Y/N. I totally shouldn’t try to help my friend with her problems. Especially not as a leader of her faction that needs to make sure his people can do their work they’re supposed to do.“

You hoped he could sense your fury towards him. Eric was right, of course, but you wouldn’t admit it. Not in his presence. „Get off me, Eric.“ His dull, cold eyes didn’t change. Words wouldn’t get him to do what you wanted.

Being friends with Eric wasn’t like being friends with someone else in Dauntless. The friendship with Eric was strange. He transferred from Erudite and most of the people tend to forget about that. But you didn’t because Eric and you had a tight bond, and you saw through his surface of anger and sheer force. You knew how smart he was, how sneaky, and how most of his actions were guided by that.

You always tried not to get too attached to him. Because after all you were just friends, no matter how close. When he was sitting on you like that right now you couldn’t deny that at some point you had evolved feelings for him. Feelings feelings. But you had learned to ignore them.

That man on top of you, giving a lesson because you fell out of roll today, wasn’t someone you could think about having a serious relationship with. Not that he wouldn’t be able to love or cherish you. But because you felt a shift again. A few weeks ago something started changing again. And today that shift broke free.

Suddenly you weren’t sure about the decision you had made two years ago. Was Dauntless the right faction for you? Amity for sure wasn’t but after two years in Dauntless it didn’t feel like you thought it would feel. Something felt wrong.

Maybe you weren’t supposed to be in any faction at all?

„You know what’s for dinner today?“ Eric still squeezed the air out of your lungs.

„Don’t make me bite you and get the fuck off now, Eric.“

„I got a feeling we’re having a steak night.“

„Eric.“ Your jaw clenched. One more word about food…

„Or burgers?“ That was it.

You hit his face with your elbow and drummed against his chest. Slurs leaving your mouth before you dug your teeth into his hand. Eric gave in and got off you. He looked satisfied at his bleeding hand. But you didn’t care about it, you just stormed off to your room. Why was he doing this all the time? Tackling you to the ground when you were fighting, sitting on top of you and then acting like he weren’t pressing the air out of your lungs at all?

Eric knocked at your door. You could tell it was him because no one knocked like him. A knock that nearly destroyed the door. He yelled your name a few times but you didn’t open.

/////

Next day you skipped breakfast. Instead you headed to the shooting range. Only to see him standing there with a gun in his hand.

„Argh, seriously?“ You turned on your heals but didn’t come far. Eric shot you. Twice. Your knees gave in and you sunk to the ground, trying to yank the darts out of your legs, that were used for playing ‚Capture the Flag‘. „What is wrong with you?“ Your voice echoed through the big room. Pain flooding your body and covering every other emotion you felt.

„You didn’t open the door.“

„So you decided to shoot me? Wonderful.“

His face didn’t flinch. Not even when he talked. That was a bad sign. „Y/N, you’ve got one chance to tell me what’s going on with you. Otherwise I can’t let you go back to work.“

„What?“

„Phil will take your place and lead your crew.“

„Eric, you can’t do this. I won’t be distracted again.“

„I can and I will.“

You learned a lot from him the past years. Also not to back down ever. So you didn’t. Just like him.

Even though your pain consumed all the concentration you had, you held your head up high.

„Alright. You will be suspended. Now get yourself ready. For the meantime you’ll be working with me.“

„Get myself ready? You just fucking shot me!“

„Neuro-stim-darts not actual bullets. Don’t let the-“

„Pain stop you. Yeah, fuck you, Eric.“

He started to leave. „Come to my office when you’re not crying anymore.“

/////

While you battled the pain that would last another few minutes, you questioned yourself why he suspended you. You didn’t knew of any other Dauntless that got punished so quickly. Not for a few minutes of distraction.

Eric was up to something, you felt it.

The day was spent at his side. And he took every chance to tell others why you were at his side. Your thoughts carried away now and then. Thinking about your position in Dauntless and what it now meant. Did you belong to Dauntless? Were you brave and fearless? Was this what you wanted?

You didn’t. You weren’t. It wasn’t.

Eric released you late at night. Every step you took towards your room, your head grew lighter thinking about what you would do later that night.

You changed clothes. Black mid heavy gear, arming yourself with a gun you hid in your waistband. Everything else would be left behind.

You couldn’t be in Dauntless anymore. Not only for the fact that you got suspended and degraded. More so because you weren’t meant to be in any faction at all. You belonged somewhere where it didn’t matter what kind of person you were. Where there were no rules that prescribed who you were supposed to be.

And the only place you could think of was with the factionless.

/////

Your door stood wide open. Eric couldn’t sleep because he felt guilty and wanted to try to speak to you again. The whole day you looked at him like you wanted to cut his throat open. But there was also something else in your eyes. Something deeper.

You grew to be his friend. Actually his best friend. He couldn’t stand when you were not talking to him. You were not much of a talking person with everyone else, but with him you never kept your mouth shut.

Eric checked your living quarters. No sign of you. Everything was where it used to be. He checked your closet where you kept you real important stuff.

Gear and gun were missing. „She fucking went off.“

/////

Your feet carried you into the city with no exact plan where to go. Just everywhere else than Dauntless. An elderly woman approached you in a dark alley. Her eyes took every detail of you. „You’re a Dauntless.“ It wasn’t a question. „What are you doing outta here on your own?“

Well, that was a good question. „I… searching for somewhere to sleep.“

„You have a disability?“

„No.“

„Why are you outta here on your own, kid?“ She came closer, forcing you to answer with her soothing eyes.

„I guess I’m not a Dauntless anymore.“

She nodded. „A long time ago the same happened to me. Come on, let’s go home, kid.“ She patted your arm and guided you to an old warehouse.

Inside Olivia, what turned out to be her name, showed you around and got you some food and water. The warehouse didn’t have any separate rooms. It was sectioned into working area, eating area and sleeping area. Beds were made out of cardboard boxes and some blankets. Harold, another former Dauntless member, brought up some old stuff for you to sleep on tonight.

It surprised you how easy it was to get around with the factionless. How supportive and welcoming they were towards an outsider like you. A young ‚kid‘ that left her faction voluntary. And didn’t know if it belonged where those belong that belong nowhere.

Thinking about what you had done, you drifted off into a deep sleep. Deeper than it ever had been in the last years.

/////

Someone shook you awake. Two furious eyes glared down at you and hands that eventually pulled you up. Eric.

Was it only a dream? You leaving Dauntless? No, it wasn’t. Eric stood right in front of you on factionless ground.

„What the fuck are you doing here, Y/N?“

„Why are you here?“

„I’m here to come and take you back, that’s what I’m here for.“

The factionless around you knew who he was. But that didn’t stop them from intervening. Olivia came up. „You’re not gonna take her with you if she doesn’t want to.“

„Oh, I will and you better shut up!“

„Dauntless has lost it’s niveau, I see.“ Harold came up to your other side.

„If anyone wants to be shot, so be it. But you’re not gonna stop me from taking Y/N with me.“ And with that he just threw you over his shoulders, tight grip around your ass, and storming out with you.

Paralysed by his sudden appearance and what just happened, you needed a few moments to get everything back together.

„Let me down, Eric!“ You hit his back with your tight fists. He didn’t let you down. He carried you over his shoulders without saying a word.

Instead of bringing you back to Dauntless, he took you to an old, empty skyscraper. Climbing steps with you on his shoulder until you arrived on the last floor – high up above the city.

You fell hard onto the ground when he arrived with you in the middle of a destroyed penthouse. His breath was uneven. Not because of carrying you but because of his raw anger.

„Why did you leave, Y/N?“ You expected a shouting, aggressive Eric but all you got was a whispering, hurt copy of him. You’ve never seen him showing that much… emotion before. It honestly made you speechless. You couldn’t answer. You didn’t know how.

„Why did you not talk to me?“ It bugged him that you didn’t trust him enough to discuss your problems and thoughts with him. Best friends did that kind of stuff too. Not only fighting for fun till blood.

„My business, remember?“

He scoffed and mumbled obscenities.

„What now, Eric?“ You made a gesture, including your surroundings. „What did you think? Did you even think?“ The only way to react was to be harsh. „Did you think you’d kidnap me, take me to some abandoned house and punch the answers out of me?“

„Maybe that’s what I should do!“

„Maybe you could also leave me alone!“ Now the two of you shouted at full volume.

„I can’t!“ And then Eric’s lips crashed into yours. Hard and rigid and wanting. Being paralysed again you kissed back because his mouth, his tongue was too tempting not to kiss back. His hands on your lower back pressed your body against his. More than a hundred times had been your body pressed against his. But that was during fighting. In that way… it brought your mind back to reality and you pushed him away.

„Fuck’s sake, Eric.“ Your feet stepped back. Away from him. Your mind tried to understand what was happening.

„I want you to talk to me, Y/N.“ His begging voice activated something inside of you. Something you used to ignore because you were just friends. Best mates. Fighting partners. „I need you to fucking talk to me. Please.“ Please. You have never ever heard ‚please‘ or ‚thank you‘ leaving Erics mouth.

And that stupid word, overused by Amity at any given possibility, made you kiss him. His lips didn’t kiss back out of surprise but you kissed him again and then he went along with it. Eric’s hands found their place on your back again and held you close. You both lost yourself in each other, in a sweet kiss that was really everything but sweet.

You only stopped kissing when you needed fresh air in your lungs but then you instantly returned to kissing. Eric was someone you thought he never could be. Besides kissing you hard, he trailed his hands soft over your body. He made sure you were as close as possible and wouldn’t slip away.

In the end it was him breaking the kiss. Kissing your forehead and resting his chin on top of your head while he hugged you. And then you two stayed like that.

When he started to talk his chin bumped into your head but that didn’t hurt. „Why did you leave?“

„I…“ Words had never been your strength. You were more of a body person. Still you tried. „Do you remember back when I was an initiate? You asked my why I left Amity.“

You could hear his brain working and sorting through memories. „Yeah, I do. Go on.“ His voice was husky but soothing.

„I weren’t meant to be in Amity.“

„Yes, because you were destined to be a Dauntless.“ You could feel he was getting what you wanted to say but was still utterly convinced what he said.

„We disagree in that part.“ Speaking it out loud it made you really sad. You always wanted to be a Dauntless but you weren’t.

Eric let go off the embrace to look into your face. „Tell me what’s in there.“ His finger pointed to your brain.

„Two days ago I saw my mother. I turned my back on her because I couldn’t look into her eyes. I couldn’t concentrate anymore. One of those walls inside my head broke apart and I was suddenly feeling too much. I realised I didn’t belong to Amity nor Dauntless. Or to any other faction. I wanted to be somewhere where it didn’t make a difference if I knew where I belong.“

He nodded. „Okay.“ He nodded again. „Can I ask you something?“ You nodded. „What did your Aptitude Test say? Are you a Divergent?“

It was already hard to admit how you felt. You knew how Eric thought about someone being Divergent. What he thought about questioning the faction system. Still he didn’t seem to mind if you were Divergent.

„Dauntless.“

„Sure?“

„Yes. I may haven’t talked to you but I never lied to you.“

„Alright.“ Eric-the-fucking-Dauntless-leader took your hand in his and squeezed it. „See, Y/N. I would lie if I said I understand you because I know that I belong to Dauntless. The only thing I can say is that after five years in Dauntless I saw a lot of people come and go, especially initiates. You didn’t go. Well you did yesterday but eh-“

„I know what you mean, go on.“

„Right. You made it through initiation. You proofed you can be a Dauntless because you worked hard to prove it.“ He also took your other hand in his. „The thing is: you are a Dauntless. At least in my eyes. Sometimes you are even more Dauntless than Dauntless-born. I see it in you every day. You are brave, too much for your own good sometimes, you’d take a bullet for your people. You’re incredibly strong – physical and mental. You’ve overcome your fears. Well, besides that stupid phobia with spiders apparently.“ Eric chuckled. He fucking chuckled. „You know, everyone can zoom out and get distracted, that is how people work. Even I zoom out sometimes. I just wanted you to tell me what was going on.“

That was a lot of information. At some late nights you listened to him speaking hours about things you would’ve never dreamed him speaking about. But that was all his rational view on topics that didn’t involve him or you personally. Now everything he had said was about you. His view about your ability of being a Dauntless. His view about your characteristics. And it was all positive, wasn’t it?

„You see me as a Dauntless, but i don’t. Not anymore.“

He nodded. Then he kissed you again. But this time slow and intense and careful as if he wanted to tell you something with that kiss. „Y/N, come back to Dauntless with me. I’ll help you find out where you belong. We’ll see if it works, alright?“

„I don’t know.“ You honestly did not fucking know. You were to worked up right now by Erics words. They meant a lot to you. Not only to know how he saw you as a person but also the part about failure. And of course the kisses. They didn’t help at all to get a clear mind.

„Y/N, do I need to throw you over my shoulder again?“ Eric tried to make you laugh. From time to time he liked to do that. And right now it worked.

„No. I’ll come with you.“ Primarily for the kisses you wanted to steal. „But what if it-“

„We’ll figure it out, alright?“ Eric’s eyes had changed from cold grey to something that was inviting. Inviting in every kind of positive way.

„Alright.“

He started smiling and kissed your forehead again before you two started heading down the endless flights of stairs.

[bentenharuki]

HAIKYUU CHAPTER 287 (the real translation at last!)

So… where do we start from…

I guess to have gotten the real translation instead of the proto version of it has improved a bit my mood, but still this chapter sees the complete trivialization of true 🏐 efforts and no matter if I did predict correctly what Furudate would have gone for in the end of this game, it still makes me 😠.

But at least I have the satisfaction to observe again and again how Mighty Lord Kageyama REALLY can’t stand his “partner”, and that makes me feel a bit better regarding this chapter.

So we are at a point where he whole of Karasuno (the part of it made of real players, so I am not including fictional “hero” Midget Redhead Curse here in my discourse, obviously) is completely drained by the monster efforts they have dispatched so far on court.

Atsumu serves, and he does it with skill, brain and strategy.

I 😍 Atsumu.

Such a great player he is…

Sadly already from the title I got an irksome feeling. Because TRUE, in games great players don’t have to rely on miracles, and what Daichi says later is fully correct, but then, what for Furudate?

You preach such good words and then you have Boku No Hero Karasuno become the pillar of defensive plays, when he has not trained at all for it, like… EVER in his life?

Go jump in a pool, Furudate (and I am being nice…): whoever has at least a while practiced volley knows that for mustering some of the receives you need to in a normal game (and imagine then in a National competition) you have to practice THOUSANDS of them (I did, and I was a setter…) before grasping the goodness of them and YOU, YOU… create Boku No Hero Karasuno as now a reliable receiver BECAUSE HE HAS THE INSTINCT OF IT?

You are a shame for volley, Furudate.

You have sold your sport soul for 💰, just admit it.

Anyway, Atsumu goes for his serves and Daichi (the always awesome Daichi) teaches us all once more what a great captain such like he is should, namely how to keep fighting forever and do your best despite any crushing pressure…

I 😍 Daichi… so, so much!

Atsumu is great… Daichi is great… these panels are great… (Ah!!! If it weren’t for that senseless midget, this game could have been so perfect, so perfect…)

I like the commentary of Nekoma’s crew. Of course they are resting while their incoming adversaries are bleeding on the court, but it’s clear how there is an abyss between them and the Miyagi ranks by now. The only way next game will be manageable by Tokyo cats stands in the reality that all Karasuno players are exhausted, while they are just enjoying the show and resting right there.

Otherwise, the game between Nekoma and Karasuno would never exist at the current time; Karasuno has developed way more and better compared to Nekoma by now.

As I wrote, what Daichi says is just THE REALITY OF VOLLEY… but all the right inputs Furudate has put in these panels is simply erased by the fact later on he will upgrade Hinata into something which simply he CANNOT BE.

Not as he stands right now.

Not considered he has never trained for any of those improving traits the mangaka is eager to upgrade him with.

FULL POINT (and full shame on Furudate).

I enjoy greatly any panel where Atsumu’s eyes are lit up with agonistic thirst and trance. Atsumu is HUNGRY of volley, he 😍 to play, he 😍 to crush opponents, he 😍 ALL a great and talented competitor such as he is shall 😍; but all the same, Daichi is there to stand in his place and never back down either. These are wonderful 🏐 panels. But it takes the eyes and 💛 of a sport loving person to fully appreciate this. And look, when I say “sport loving person” I don’t mean a person who watches sports: I mean a person who knows what it takes in PRACTICING it. Whatever kind of sport. Unless you know what it takes to perform similar tasks, unless you are not familiar with what it means to shed all your forces to reach a goal… you cannot appreciate fully ANY of this I am trying to make you 👀.

And that’s just how it is.

This is one of the core parts of the episode… and of course people can’t mostly understand a thing of it.

The REAL translation of Kenma’s words pinpoints how, despite the ball being in a position COMPLETELY disadvantaged and almost impossible for Karasuno now, and the fact it is about to cross again the net (like in last episode), midget RedHead is jumping like nothing of it matters, being RUTHLESS as he is NOT CONSIDERING AT ALL how much Kageyama must be tired (and in the last episode, he barely touched a similar ball with one finger).

Kenma has already said a few times how Hinata is the kind of person who just asks, asks and asks without considerations for anyone beside himself and his own parameters of energy (easy to do, when somebody like him plays a THIRD of the balls Kageyama does, right midget Redhead?), thus admitting it would be IMPOSSIBLE for him to ever play with Hinata.

So, the annoying 🍊 is right now jumping like this is the first action of the game and not the 12000th Kageyama has had to do.

He jumps like the ball ain’t almost on the other side of the net already.

He jumps, arrogantly and careless of anything else beside his own desire to spike (a person like this is depicted by his fans like a tender and cute person who is “so kind”… heck NOT, he is impossibly annoying end egotistical, actually!)

But guess what?

Lord Kags treats any task like an obstacle to overcome. And HINATA for Lord Kageyama is nothing more than another task and another obstacle to overcome, so HE DOES THIS:

I 😍 HOW KAGEYAMA DOESN’T EVEN BOTHER TO THINK OF HINATA AS IN A SURNAME way for him to be a thought in his head… for my beloved Lord, he is “this guy”. Just that. A guy like any other he could come across.

There is no bond at all between these two, just a pushy competition. I 😂 myself out anytime I 👀 how Lord Kageyama is supposed to be so into and so linked to Hinata.

He is completely indifferent to him, he considers him just as a player he plays with, and an annoying presence he has to shut down anytime that annoying presence bolsters with baseless arrogance on a court, daring to think he might talk to him as an equal (EWWW… what an impure volley thought).

Kageyama won’t ever lose to Hinata, that’s the only true thing which links them two: soon they won’t play on the same team anymore, and by then the only one as happy as Kageyama will be is gonna be myself.

Hinata simply doesn’t deserve ANYTHING of what the Lord gives him.

Not that Hinata is smart enough to even understand the effort which takes to Kageyama to perform the tosses he does so naturally.

He doesn’t feel any special connection to him. He just feels annoyed, bothered and PUSHED by him, just like Hinata was not even a teammate, but a source of new tasks to overcome, no more and no less as he is an adversary (the same goes for Hinata: Hinata exploits the Lord for his advantage… but in no way he has any connection to him beside wanting to obtain a toss for himself).

And overcoming tasks Kageyama, the perfect voleyball lord, will do.

This action is AWESOME.

The pushing willpower, the flawless form, the power of his muscles, the clarity of his tossing technique.

THIS. IS. 🏐.

The reactions at the amazing play of Kageyama give me life.

Everyone is shocked at the display of class and might volley power.

The fact that Suna, who is a great ace and blocker, is shocked, even though he plays with Atsumu so he must be used to greatness, it tells so much.

The face of Kenma, who is TERRIFIED at the fact Kageyama could DELIVER such a thing despite being completely tired.

And then Kindaichi… oh, dear… if only you didn’t have betrayed the Lord and his purity at Kitagawa… who knows how great of an ace you could have become by now, since a midget with no height or power such as Boku No Hero Karasuno receives to spike such incredible tosses…

Too bad, Kindaichi… too bad ;)

This is also very important, and the CORRECT translation makes it even more noteworthy.

Look how ONLY A SETTER as talented as Atsumu can truly understand the burden poor perfect Lord Kags is subjected to. Namely to have a spiker who won’t ever consider how tired you are, or how much more than him you have played, resulting in how much more exhausted than him you might be. Said spiker will DEMAND with no mercy for you to do improbable and impossible tosses (even more requested by the fact said spiker is a midget who weights 40 kg, and therefore he can’t be powerful , he can only be a jump spiker, a threat based on velocity and peak, which is the category setters get exhausted from the most), and since you are a competitor, and you are super class, you will comply to those requests, just because as a setter you have to.

Atsumu, like Kenma and also like Oikawa, sees how to play with Hinata is a dreading deed, an effort they are glad they are not forced to sustain, because honestly it takes just too much to stand to play alongside somebody as Hinata.

What makes it all even funnier, is that Atsumu feels for Kageyama and his burden to the Redhead curse, but in Osamu’s words that is quite strange, because Atsumu is supposed to be heartless and he normally wouldn’t feel bad for anyone (but you know Osamu, Tobio kun is dear to Atsmumu’s 💛… ;) face it ;9 ).

I 💛 that tiny part a lot. *.*

Then I 💛 to pieces THIS:

AWWWWW my beautiful, cold, condescending and smug Lord.

You really can’t stand Hinata, can you?

I 😍 you so much… I just 😍 you SO MUCH MORE for this face here… it makes this whole chapter and the mess that is about to come so much more tolerable…

You won’t ever let that ant think he has ever to feel like he can win against you, because of course.. he WON’T EVER BE ABLE TO REACH ANY OF THE PLAYER YOU ARE, and even less of the player that you will be.

I 😍 you, Lord K. :)

And now… the  final of the chapter, where Furudate does upgrade Hinata to a receiver, just because he wants to.

Call it “the Death of Volley” in this game…

I wrote in the images what I had to.

Honestly, Furudate… you are a shame for the entirety of the 🌍 who has played volley with passion and 💛, and who had to 🚇 months before becoming dignified receivers.

I hope the 💰 you have gotten out of this vilification of volley is making you happy…

[finn-nelson-for-the-win]

Before the World Stops Turning: Pt.4

Hello lovely people of Tumblr! I know it’s been a while since I last posted, but alas! I’m back now with the latest chapter of this fic. This chapter (and the next one, for that matter) is a bit shorter than the prior three chapters, but I decided that this was the best way for me to keep the plot moving along and keep switching POV as I have been thus far, so it is what it is.

If you’d like to be added/removed from my tags list for this fic or my Forever Tag list, don’t hesitate to let me know!

Everything I’ve written can be found right here!

I hope you enjoy this chapter! (As always, additional notes and random commentary I have will be at the end beneath the tags...I also feel it is only fair that I warn you that my notes after this chapter are very long and unrelated to the chapter itself for the most part, so you are under no obligation to read them and/or read all of it lol)

***

Finn sat on the gray loveseat in the spare bedroom of Danny’s house—which the band has been using as a makeshift recording studio for nearly two years now—strumming idly on his acoustic guitar. Although their band was not actively working on writing and recording music, when inspiration struck, they always made a point to put it down on paper and do some rough recordings for them to go back to later.

Danny sat in front of his desk on the other side of the room with his headphones on, reviewing the audio he and Finn had recorded in the previous hours and making notes about what could be improved or what was working well; however, the quiet calm of the room was soon disturbed when Chop burst in with three cans of beer in his hands.

“Evening, gents! I come bearing gifts for two of my favorite band mates,” Chop said loudly as he tossed a beer to Danny and Finn before sitting on the ground with his back resting against the couch that Finn was occupying and opening his can of beer, “how did recording go for you lads today?”

Finn set his guitar on the ground beside the couch and sat upright, stretching and yawning deeply as his exhaustion began to catch up to him. Once seated more comfortably, Finn opened up his beer and took a long, slow drink. 

“Quite well, actually! Finn was lucky that I switched my shift at the bar with Jeremy or else I would have been at work when he decided to drop by unannounced!”

“I said I was sorry,” Finn replied with a sheepish chuckle, “plus, I called you when I was on my way over to your house. I had a really great idea for the bridge to the song that I’ve been playing around with for the last few months and I knew I’d lose it if I waited too long.” 

Finn had been at the library on his University’s campus with Archie for nearly two hours after his last lecture of the day ended, trying and failing to study for an upcoming exam in the World History class they had together; however, they had taken a break to get some snacks and rethink their study strategy when Archie received an important phone call that he needed to take.

Finn was content to just sit at the table and continue the random doodles he had been working on in the margins of his lecture notes when an idea for a song hit him like a train.

He wrote down what he could to ensure that he wouldn’t forget and gathered his belongings from the table to leave the library. Finn saw Archie talking on the phone in a more populated area of the library where speaking on the phone would not be a disturbance and let him know that they could just pick up where they left off after class later this week before practically sprinting to his truck and speeding over to his apartment. 

Before Finn had even left his apartment after getting his guitar, he was on the phone with Danny letting him know that he was on his way over.

“I know, Finn, I’m just giving you a hard time! After what you recorded today, I can definitely see why you wanted to record this before the idea passed…it’s not perfect quite yet, but it definitely has potential and I think this song is gonna be something really special when it’s all pieced together.” 

“That’s fucking great! Good job, mate!” Chop replied as he ruffled Finn’s hair in praise, earning an annoyed chuckle and smirk from his mate as he fixed his hair.

“Do you know if Archie updated the details about our next show? He posted about it on his profile earlier this week, but has anyone posted it to the band page yet?” Chop asked before taking another swig of his beer. 

“Yeah! Arch was on the phone with the booking agent for the venue before I headed over here because they wanted to confirm some of the final details about the event,” Finn replied, “When we were at the library they called him to let him know one of the opening acts pulled out of the show, so they just decided to extend each bands’ set a bit to compensate for that extra hour time-slot. Archie said he was going to post the updated details and offer to sell some tickets for cheap to anyone who reached out to us on a first come-first serve basis. I was in a rush to get over here though, so I didn’t really get much more detail about the situation than that…”

“Okay, great! I know the fans really love it when we do that.” Danny replied with a smile before turning his attention back to his computer.

“Yeah! And it’s always cool being able to personally deliver the tickets to fans that live around here. Has anyone asked to buy tickets?”

“I dunno…check my phone,” Finn replied to Chop as he pointed to his cell phone that sat on an empty shelf of a bookcase across the room beside Finn’s car keys. 

“Hmm…the post has a few likes and comments. There’s a couple unrelated messages from fans. Oh! One person is asking to purchase tickets from us…let’s see what they said…”

…I saw that you have a limited number of tickets available for purchase at reduced prices. I’m interested in purchasing a pair, please… 

 “Oi Finney boy! I found your girl!” Chop called with a wide grin plastered on his face.

“What are you on about this time, Chopper?” Finn asked in confusion as he tilted his head back to get the last drops of beer from the can before setting the now empty can onto the ground by his feet. 

“According to this, her name is ‘Rae’? You know…The pretty lass that shrugged you off when you tried to make conversation at the last show? Izziemarie33’s brunette mate with the really nice—“

“Okay, I think we get the idea Chop,” Finn interrupted as he quickly got to his feet and walked over to where Chop stood to grab his phone from Chop’s hands, “what do you mean you found her? I already found out who she was a while back…”

“Are you serious, Finn? And you didn’t think to tell me—your best mate in the whole world—that you learned the secret identity of your soul mate?” Chop asked incredulously as he turned away from Finn at just the right time to prevent Finn from grabbing his cell phone back from his friend.

“For fuck’s sake, Chop! She’s not my soul mate, okay? And it’s not that big of a deal…I just happened to see a post on her mate Isabella’s profile that she was tagged in as well…”

“Huh, I see…well, it’s getting pretty late and I need to get going now because I agreed to meet Alex for drinks after his closing shift at the shop and he’ll make me pay for the first round if I’m late again this time! Here’s your phone back, Finn. And don’t you dare say I never did anything for you!” Chop replied with a wink before saluting Danny and leaving the room in a hurry.

What the fuck is that supposed to mean? 

Finn looked down at the screen of his phone that Chop had just handed back to him and noticed that the current conversation that was open on his phone was a private message conversation containing a message sent less than an hour ago.

On the left side of the screen was a small square with Rae’s profile picture and her username in bolded text beside the message she had sent requesting to purchase tickets to their next show. 

Oh…so that’s what Chop meant by him finding “my girl”…

K&Q: Hiya Rae! Thank you for reaching out to us about purchasing tickets to this show… 

Finn began typing up one of the typical responses that he generally sent from the band’s profile, speaking in third person and making an effort not to use his own name.

Relax, Finn! You send messages like this to fans of the band all the time… 

Rae is just another person who is reaching out to buy tickets to one of your shows…no need to overthink things!

…You just need two tickets? No problem! :) 

Rae: Thanks for getting back to me! Yes, just two tickets, thanks.

I know your post mentioned that you guys deliver the tickets that are purchased directly to us, so should I give you my address to send them to or…?

 K&Q: Do you live in the area, Rae? We can deliver them directly to your house or meet you somewhere to drop them off for you, if you’d like?

As soon as Finn sent the message, he worried that the message could be taken the wrong way or misconstrued by Rae. This fear only intensified when the message showed that it had been opened and read but there was no indication that Rae was responding back yet. 

Finn was about to begin writing an apology for the forwardness of the prior message and to assure her that he did not mean to imply anything other than simply delivering the tickets Rae wanted to purchase when he saw the three dots in the lower corner of the screen appear, indicating that Rae was typing.

Rae: Oh, yes, of course! I actually attend Uni in the city, so if we could meet up somewhere around there, that’d be great…as long as it isn’t too far out of your way, that is? 

K&Q: No, that’s perfect, actually! There’s a cool little café on campus for us to meet at, if you’d like. I can send you the details if you don’t already know it. Is next Monday alright with you?

Rae: I have work Monday mornings, but if you’re free in the afternoon, that would be perfect! 

K&Q: Great, Monday afternoon works for me! I’ll see you then.

Finn was about to close out of the conversation when an idea popped into his head, causing his fingers to hover slightly over the touch screen keyboard of his phone as he mulled over the idea. 

Fuck it, what’s the worst that can happen?

 …Also, I’m not always good at checking messages here on the band’s profile, so if you need to meet a different day or need to contact me in the meantime, here’s my phone number…

@eveerez @tinakegg @hey1tskat1e @lurkernolonger @milllott @nutinanutshell @i-dream-of-emus @milymargot @vivammfd @bitchesbecrazy89 @arathewallflower @mallyallyandra @kneekeyta

A/N: Awwwww, our little Finnley is working up his confidence when it comes to Rae and I’m all for it! He was feeling extra suave this chapter and found a way to give Rae his phone number AND arrange a meet up with her in-person...I don’t know about all of you, but I’m very interested to see how their little meeting goes, but that’s still a little ways away (2 chapters away to be more specific, if my memory serves me right...which it probably doesn't because my memory is complete shit lol)

So...I’m content to just pretend that this chapter didn’t take me almost 2 weeks to post even though the entire fic up to and including the next chapter has been written since before I even posted the first chapter of this particular fic...

There was a VERY short period of time a couple weeks back where Uni and work weren’t the banes of my existence and I had time to actually write and edit this fic at my leisure...but that time came and went and these past couple weeks have been a real struggle for me.

I’ve been struggling to keep up with my assignments for Uni, work has been stressing me out and making me increasingly unhappy because I feel like I’m getting stuck in a rut, I’ve been stressed out financially and with recent events with my family...

But by far the most difficult part of recent weeks has been that I’ve been really struggling with my mental health as of late and I haven’t been sleeping well, eating well, taking care of myself in general, etc...I’ve also been withdrawing from my friends and isolating myself and I’ve found that as a result I was spending much less time on social media and therefore less time here on Tumblr for me to read/write/edit/post (I’m also much harder on myself when I get into this sort of mindset, so there were a few times when I’d begin editing this chapter, decide it was complete shit, and then contemplate scrapping the entire chapter/fic and starting over...I never got to that point yet, but there have been a few very close-calls).

In general, I just haven’t been in a good place recently and as much as I tried to push through it, it got the best of me and exacerbated everything that I was already dealing with, making things substantially worse.

Please do not misunderstand me when I say that I’m not telling you all of this stuff to make excuses or gain your sympathy...I just have an affinity for oversharing details of my life for little to no reason and thought that this explanation could give some context as to why I might randomly stop posting from time to time because I go through these unexplained periods of losing interest in social media and socialization in general more frequently than I would care to admit.

Ok...that’s enough for today’s edition of “Sarah venting about the random shit in her life in the Author’s Notes of her most recent fanfic chapter update even though her rant has no correlation to the content of the actual chapter she posted”

I’ll do my best to get back on the schedule of more regular posting like I was before, so there should be at least 2 or 3 chapters posted per week from here on out, but again...no promises.

If you read this entire Author’s Note, I applaud you and I think you’re top-notch because this turned out to be much longer than I had originally planned...

ANYWAYS...thank you for reading and I hope you liked this chapter...Stay awesome, my friends! :)