#mother number 04

[fiyero3305]

TUA Fic: Witchy Prompts 07

Witchy Prompts via @myloveforhergoeson

07. Mist

On October 1, 1989, Rachel Herschberger awakes early. She is restless in a way she can’t describe.

Nothing seems out of the ordinary. Her sister Sarah-Beth remains asleep beside her, apparently unaffected by the agitation that has found Rachel. The house is quiet. The animals are beginning to stir outside. The slightest bit of gray lights the sky. Unable to sleep, she sets to work on the day’s chores. If nothing else, she can put this energy to good use.

She steps out into the misty pre-morning, still uneasy. The world appears as it should, and yet it feels off-center. Perhaps it is only the mist and the darkness; Rachel has never liked feeling that she can’t see what’s around her. For that reason, she avoids heading into the woods to check the traps just yet, starting her day instead with sweeping the animals’ stalls and changing over their hay. She gathers eggs and replenishes water troughs. She even tackles some of the tasks that have been waiting for attention as she endeavors to distract herself: replacing the fraying ropes on the well buckets; filling in the divot by the gate that the goats have dug; scraping the peeling paint from the barn door in preparation for a fresh coat.

As the sun fully rises and Sarah-Beth and others awaken, she can more easily ignore the feeling with which she’d awoken. By mid-afternoon the mist has burned off and she feels nearly normal as she brings a fresh crate of milk jugs to the barn when something like embers from a fire catches her eye. The little sparks dance and swirl through the air, but unlike embers they don’t disappear. Instead they fly straight to her abdomen and suddenly her body is stretching, swelling, and there’s horrifying movement within her.

[thesunisatangerine]

playing for keeps – chapter three

alexia putellas x barçakeeper!childhoodfriend!reader

warnings: coarse language, light angst

(a/n in the tags) [chapters: one, two, three]

word count: 8.8k

[1]

Just before you turned thirteen your body, finally, began to change. 

While Alexia’d gone ahead of you a year prior—with her limbs now lanky and sinewy, and her muscles stretched close to the newly grown bones—you were left behind. She’d grown taller, yes; not by much but the two-inch difference (two and a half, as Alexia was always inclined to remind you) felt like a foot to you. So the change was welcome when it finally started, and more importantly, it happened to coincide with something that completely altered the trajectory of your life.

During the spring after your birthday, your father got a promotion at work. To celebrate this milestone, he took you and your mother for a trip around Europe. And as a gift for your hard work and for getting into La Masia with Alexia just a few months before, your parents surprised you with tickets to at least one game in the country, or area, you were visiting. 

In Gelsenkirchen, Germany, you found your destiny. 

Or at least that was how you liked to look at it. 

Before seeing the match between Schalke 04 against Stuttgart, the idea of keeping never entered your mind; you’d played forward your whole life, and you thought that would be the position you’d play in professionally. But as you saw Manuel Neuer controlling the outcome of the game with his hands, a spark ignited within you—this overwhelming surge—and right there and then, you were enlightened to the art of keeping. That spark returned home with you and, playing into the hands of fate, your journey to keeping began.

[2]

The crescendo of the cicadas’ song was this close to lulling you to sleep. It didn’t help that Alexia’d curled herself up beside you in your bed, her head on your lap while her math notebook laid forgotten at the foot of the bed, and her eyes already closed. It was a rare occurrence for the both of you and even more so for Alexia to ‘slack off’—if you were to put it as Alexia had—but this afternoon was a particularly hot one. Summer had practically bled into spring, and even someone like Alexia clearly wasn’t immune to its soporific effect. 

The numbers from the homework you were working on began to blur when you heard a knock downstairs. Out of curiosity or just surprise, you snapped awake. And so did Alexia, apparently.

“You expecting someone?” Alexia yawned, stretching out her long limbs before settling over to her other side. The movement made a lock of hair fall to her cheek which you brushed away with the back of your finger.

“No, it’s probably Mamá’s.” You hummed in answer, relaxing down on your pillow to finally chase that nap that continued to tempt you.

But then came your mother’s voice, “Guille! Hello, my boy! How are you?”

Alexia let out a startled yelp when you jumped out of the bed, now fully awake, tripping on the rug as you rushed into the closet. 

“What the hell? What are you doing?!” Alexia hissed with annoyance but you were too busy trying to get changed to address it. 

You snatched the closest pair of shorts and jersey shirt, and began to shed the ones you had on before you slipped the fresh ones on in quick succession. 

As you did, you began to explain, “I completely forgot! I was supposed to meet up with Guille today!”

When your head popped out of your shirt, you found a deep crease between Alexia’s brows. She was sitting in the middle of your bed, cross-legged, looking very much like a disgruntled cat woken from a nap with the way her hair stuck out in odd places. 

She looked adorable. 

You bit your tongue before you could say it.

Crossing her arms, Alexia retorted, “Why? It’s Saturday.” 

The tone she used made it seem that today being a Saturday was a valid enough reason for you to not go. 

“And it is because it’s Saturday—and no training, Alexia—that I can go with him.” 

At that, her frown only seemed to deepen. You had half a mind to tease her but you knew that’d probably just piss her off even more, although if you were being honest, you didn’t understand just why this seemed to bother Alexia so much.  So instead of teasing, you tried a placating tone, “You could come with if you want?”

Alexia opened her mouth, “I—”

Your mother’s shout cut through the air. 

“Honey? Guille is here for you!” 

You sent Alexia one last apologetic glance. 

“I’m really sorry! Please stay for dinner! I’ll be quick!” 

And with a quick hug goodbye, you rushed out of your room and practically flew down the stairs. At the bottom, you found Guille leaning against the bannister, hands in his short pockets, with a small rucksack on his back who, upon seeing you, gave you a bright smile.

“Hey! You look—” He began but then suddenly, his eyes darkened and the quirk of his lips turned upside down, his tone flattening, “Oh. You’re here.”

In the same second you noticed Alexia beside you, Alexia’d slung an arm over your shoulders.

“Lovely to see you as always, Guille. And I could say the same about you.” Alexia deadpanned, flashing Guille a smile full of teeth, her eyes void of any warmth as she stared at him down her nose. Then she turned to you, her face lighting up as she asked with a little too much excitement, “So, are we going or not?”

“Wait, she’s coming with us?” Guille blurted out, but before you could even answer, Alexia left your side and ran down the steps. 

“Of course, Guille! Come on, keep up!” Alexia exclaimed on her way out of the door, tapping Guille’s stomach as she did—not without force apparently with the way Guille expelled air out harshly. 

When you got to him, you placed a comforting hand on his shoulder. 

“Are you okay?”

He let out a strained, “Yes.”

You gave Guille an apologetic look, grabbing your ball bag. 

“I’m really sorry for the last minute change. I’ll make it up to you.”

Still clutching his stomach, he said, “Don’t worry about it.”

The three of you got to the field near your place—which you were glad to find empty—without any more incidents. You were faced with another problem as it was only after you’d begun warming up that you realized that in your haste to leave, you forgot to bring water with you. When you told Alexia, she offered to go to the nearest corner store to buy some.

You stretched as you waited for Alexia’s return when Guille suddenly said behind you.

“Here.”

Turning, you found him holding a paper parcel bag. You considered his outstretched hand with curiosity before you met his eyes, taking the bag from him slowly. “What’s this?”

“Just a little something to get you started,” he answered, scratching the back of his head. “You said you wanted to keep, so I thought you’d need them.”

Peering into the bag, you gasped at what you found inside. 

A new pair of keeper gloves.

“Guille, you didn’t have to!”

He shrugged, smiling, “Yeah, but I wanted to anyway.”

“Thank you! Come here, you big baby!” You laughed, throwing your arms around him. Unlike Alexia, Guille was only taller than you by mere centimeters so it was relatively easy to ruffle his hair as you pulled away. 

“Mess up my hair again and I won’t teach you anything,” He threatened with a faux glare as he swept his fingers through his curling locks in an attempt to tame them. 

You rolled your eyes, grinning at him. “Okay, Antonio Banderas. So, what are the basics?”

He imitated you, rolling his eyes before he shook his head slightly, his smile never leaving his lips. Then he pointed to a spot by the goal line. “Put your gloves on and stand right there.”

You did, noting the way your new gloves fit perfectly over your hands and fingers. It felt different—stuffy—and you could already feel your palms beginning to sweat from the trapped heat. When you stood where Guille pointed, he walked around you all the while he instructed you to correct your posture: he told you keep your feet shoulder-width apart, to bend your legs slightly so that your chest was just past your knees, and to hold your palms facing out. 

“The main thing to worry about starting out is your stance. It will take time to get the balance right but once you get it down, you’re set.”

“Is this alright?” 

Guille took a step back and he gripped his chin as he hummed. After a moment of scrutiny, he nudged you back suddenly. It wasn’t quite forceful but it made you tumble down on your rear all the same. 

You smiled at him sheepishly, getting up. “I guess that’s a no?”

“Yep. It looks like you keep your weight on your heels too much.” He crouched down at your feet, drawing a square over the front half of your foot. “Keep your weight spread out around here and you should—”

Guille scrambled back suddenly, yelping as a football went flying past where he was just a second ago and into the net. Turning to the direction where the ball came from with your mouth agape, you found Alexia there with water bottles clasped to her chest, an eyebrow raised, while one corner of her mouth was set in a bemused droop, another ball rolling beneath her left foot.

“What the hell was that for, asshole?!” Guille shouted as he stormed his way over to Alexia. He was in front of her now, looking up at her with flame in his eyes but Alexia remained unfazed. She put the water bottles down before she settled her hands on her hips, cocking her head slightly to the side. 

“I’m sorry, Guille. I didn’t see you.” Alexia said flatly, “And aren’t you supposed to be playing keeper?”

“Really. You didn’t see me? Besides—”

“Ale, I asked Guille to teach me.” You huffed, running in between them and separating them with your arms before things got out of hand—again. 

This wasn’t the first time this… row between them happened. In fact, you noticed it’s been occurring more frequently lately. For all their similarities—the main one being their short tempers—the two never got on well together for reasons you never really understood and the only thread that tied them together was you. 

They weren’t always like this though; they were nice with each other the first time they’d met. Guille transferred to your school not long after you’d joined Sabadell, and if you and Alexia were inseparable there, it was always you and Guille at school. And when an opportunity arose for your two favorite persons to meet, you took it. It went well; they were friendly with each other. You only noticed things had changed after you and Guille’s school team started playing against Alexia’s so you were never sure when this all started, and by that point, the friction between them was too great to smoothen out which both saddened and disappointed you.

And it wasn’t like you never tried to get to the bottom of it. You’d asked them what happened, they both gave similar answers. By that, you meant completely avoiding answering. 

Guille’d assured you, “I don’t know what you’re talking about, we’re friends? Don’t worry.” 

While Alexia’d said with a confused frown, “What do you mean? Nothing happened.” 

And when you pestered her, asked her if the reason was because she liked Guille as a joke, she looked at you without reply, and when next practice came, she made a nuisance of herself enough to let you know the answer to your question and more. 

And here you were again, with them acting like this–always at each other’s throats. 

At your answer, Alexia looked at you, confused. “Why would you ask him to teach you how to keep?”

Your gaze lanced away as you bit your lip.

Maybe you should’ve told her after all… 

Mustering up the courage to meet her eye again, you replied, low and serious. “I want to start playing keeper, Alexia.” 

Alexia blinked, and then she crossed her arms before she eyed Guille who was scowling at her in return. She looked at you again. 

“Have you told Alejandro about this?”

“Yes.” 

“Oh.” A pause. “What did he say?”

“I’ll still start as a forward. But he said he’ll put in some extra technical sessions for me starting next week which was why I asked Guille to help me get started. Alejandro said if I get good enough, he’ll see if I can start as keeper for the team.”

An uncomfortable silence settled over you three. 

You caught Guille’s eyes darting from you to Alexia and back again from the corner of your eyes but you remained focused on Alexia’s face. At a glance, Alexia might seem calm—impassive with the way all of her features remained flat. But her eyelids drooped just so they hid more than half of her pupils, how her lower lip was slightly concealed beneath the upper one; she was pissed and even worse, she was hurt. And knowing that you’d hurt her was enough to compel you to reach out and touch her arm, apologetic.

Alexia regarded you for a moment longer. Another word of apology was on the tip of your tongue when she finally sighed, the corner of her lips tilting up to a half-smile as she spoke softly. “Okay. How can I help?”

You couldn’t help yourself. You threw your arms around her and it felt like a weight was lifted from your chest upon hearing the chuckle she let out.

The next couple of hours were spent with the three of you working together: Guille by the goal who continuously gave you notes and instructions, while Alexia—upon Guille’s signal—would send some shots to the net so you could try and stop them. The first… fifty or so shots went right past you—going easy was never exactly Alexia’s strong suit—but the more you focused on getting the timing right and reading the language of Alexia’s body to anticipate the direction of the ball, you ended the session with a few decent saves. 

It was a rough start but you were satisfied with it.

You’d left to use the restroom but upon coming back, the two of them were bickering once more.

Oh, no. What was it now?

You heard more of their words the closer you got, but you didn’t have to move too close with the way they were shouting.

“Come on, dude! Please, don’t tell me you’re still pissed off about that? It was a fair match!”

“How was that fair, Alexia? The two of you playing together is never fair! You’re both in La Masia for crying out loud! And even more importantly, she was supposed to be on my team! That was the original plan, but you went ahead and took her away!”

“What made you think I took her away?” Alexia crossed her arms, scoffing. “Let’s face it. She likes to play with me more than you.”

“You don’t know that!”

That was the moment Alexia spotted you and before you could even get a word in, she said, “Why don’t we just ask her who she’d rather play with?”

Two sets of intense eyes looked your way and without meaning to, you gulped, taking a step back.

“So? Who would you rather play with: me or her?” Guille asked, eyes wide and pleading. 

Suddenly feeling like you were backed into a corner, you stammered in your panic, “Umm, I—”

[3]

Alexia stayed over for dinner that night. That was normal; what was unusual was she left you alone to do the dishes. You had a feeling where she might be, especially since she’d been mostly quiet throughout the whole evening.

After you put away the last dish in the cupboard, and when your arms were finally free from suds, you took a peek into the living room. She wasn’t there—a confirmation of her whereabouts.

Putting on your flip flops, you headed out of the back door. 

The light from the living room casted a faint glow that dissipated the darkness around the garden when you opened the door that led out to it, aiding you just enough to see Alexia on the swing, sitting still with her back hunched forward. Once you were just a few paces behind her, you saw the contours of her headset, but even with them on, there was no way she didn’t know you were there—the fact that your shadow stretched to reach her before you did was a dead give away. Yet still, she made no move to acknowledge your presence.

Okay. That was fair.

“Ale,” you said softly. 

She gave you a glance before she went back to looking down at her clasped hands. 

“Alexia, come on.” 

Still no response. You fiddled with your thumbs as the moment dragged on. 

You sighed, sitting down on your heels next to her.

“I should’ve told you about the keeper thing,” you muttered. “I wanted to get a feel for it first, to get a bit better at it before I told you. But I didn’t consider how that would make you feel… and I’m sorry. I’m sorry for making you feel that I didn’t want or need you by my side, Alexia. I wanted you to think I was good enough for this.” 

Finally, Alexia turned to you, taking her headset off, the movement barely above a whisper. And softly, she spoke, “What made you think that I’ll think you’re not good enough for anything?”

“I don’t know.” You admitted, pulling at the grass in front of you. Your mother would probably see the hole you’d made on the lawn and berate you for it in the morning but you needed something to keep your hands busy. “I just wanted to go through this without too many expectations. And it’s not like I don’t want to keep our dynamic going. I love playing forward with you, Alexia, but I think keeping is my calling, just like midfield is to you.”

“You don’t have to apologize. I completely understand. You didn’t want any added pressure. I’m not going to hold that against you.” 

“Thank you,” you smiled at her. Then, “So, tell me why are you sulking?”

“I’m not sulking!” Alexia huffed with indignation. Then she looked away again, working her lower lip between her teeth.

You put a hand on her knee. “Alexia, what is it?”

“I…” Alexia sighed, brushing the bridge of her nose with her thumb. You gave her another moment. She heaved another breath before she began.

“That thing you said… Did you really mean it when you said you’d rather play with him than me?”

Oh. So that was what this was about.

“Of course not. We both know it’s always going to be you, Alexia.”

“Then why did you tell him that?”

“I feel like if I didn’t, I’d lose him as a friend.”

“And you’re not worried about losing me?” Alexia cried out, her tone inflected while her eyes reflected her hurt.

You blinked at her. 

There were moments—just like now—where you’d feel a sudden urge to shake Alexia. For all her sharpness and unmatched awareness, she sometimes failed to see even the most obvious of things. Couldn’t she see that you loved her and that you’d follow her to the edge of the earth if she asked you to?

At the absurdity of her question, you really couldn’t help but laugh. You stood up and shuffled behind her before you threw your arms around Alexia’s neck, draping yourself over her broad back, which made the swing move forward. The dampness of her hair felt cool against your cheek, the scent of your shampoo that clung to them filled your senses as you chuckled into her ear. 

“Why are you laughing? I’m serious!”

“Because, Alexia, do you hear yourself? I love you, you idiot!” You giggled again. “I know our friendship isn’t that shallow that I’d lose you over this. Or am I wrong?”

Alexia turned her head and you saw a hint of a smile on her lips. “No, I suppose not.”

A pleasant silence blanketed you both. And then Alexia hummed.

“But if there was something that could break us, what do you think it would be?”

You stopped to ponder, twirling a lock of Alexia’s hair with your finger, noting her hair was nearly dry now. When your mind drew blank, you replied nonchalantly, “Honestly, I have no idea.”

“Good.” Alexia leaned away so she could give you a lopsided smile—an earnest one. “Because me neither.”

[4]

“—you okay?”

You blinked and turned to Alexia. “Hmm?”

She glanced at you for a moment before she turned back to what she was doing, sleeves rolled up as she scrubbed a plate in the soapy water in the sink.

“I said, are you okay? Is there something wrong? You’ve been out of it since practice.” When a moment of silence lapsed, Alexia added, “And don’t think I didn’t notice you on your swing the past few days, too, because I did.”

You looked out the window and watched how the rain sluiced down the glass pane. In the darkness behind the window, you saw glimpses of soaked, curly locks and heard the hasty confession all over again.

You sighed, blinking the memory away.

“Guille asked me out.”

The sound of glass shattering and metal clanging made you jump, and you watched as a casserole pot twirled like a top on the hard, kitchen floor, while fragments of a broken plate skittered out to different directions. 

“Oh, shit!” Alexia cursed, looking down at the mess, while a voice called out from the living room. 

“Alexia, is everything alright in there?'' Came Eli’s voice. A few seconds later, Jaume’s head popped into the kitchen. He glanced at you then his eyes settled on Alexia who was crouched down, looking up guiltily at her father.

“Are you okay, girls?”

“Yes, Papá. I just… dropped some stuff.” Alexia said. You crouched down, too, about to pick up a fragment when Jaume spoke.

“Don’t pick that up, love, you might cut yourself. I’ll do it.” 

Jaume shooed the two of you to a corner he deemed safe and the both of you watched as he picked up the pieces, throwing them in the bin by the back door. Afterwards, he gave Alexia a kiss on her temple, and you a hug and a ruffle to your hair, as he retired for the evening, leaving the two of you again in your own company. Alexia went back to the sink to finish up whatever was left, and you returned to your place on the counter beside her. 

The silence that intruded was cut short by Alexia when she cleared her throat, “So… what did you say?” 

“I haven’t said anything, yet,” you sighed again, looking back out the window, the questions coming back full force. In the eight years you’d known Guille, how long had he harbored those feelings for you? When did it happen? What did you do to make him feel that way?

“Do you like him?” Alexia’s question brought you back to the present.

“I don’t know.”

“Do you want him?”

“Isn’t that the same thing?” You laughed slightly, glancing back at Alexia who shrugged her shoulders in answer.

“No, I don’t think so. Desire is a drive, like it makes you want to act. Attraction is just… I don’t know how to explain it, but it’s a weaker feeling. And they complement each other but they’re not the same.”

“And you know this how exactly?” You asked her teasingly, a brow raised.

Alexia averted her eyes, and shrugged your question off with a laugh.

In the moment of silence that followed, you traced Alexia’s profile, and your gaze ended at the elegant curve of the bow of her lips. She looked so pretty casted in the candescent glow of the kitchen light that it made your chest ache just by looking at her. You dropped your eyes to your feet as your mind ran faster than before this entire conversation happened.

Clutching your arms tightly across your chest, you muttered, “I don’t know what I want.” 

[5]

Maybe hoping it would all turn out fine was a bit naive because naturally, Guille didn’t take your rejection well. It was your fault really for expecting otherwise but nevertheless, the inevitable discomfort of disappointment settled like lead in your gut. 

The thing was, you were ready to give Guille the space he needed to accept your boundaries—friends, or nothing at all—and to heal. But accusing Alexia of making you turn against him? Now, that was something you couldn’t let pass. 

He knew he’d crossed a line, too, with the way he kept avoiding you. At first, the silence didn’t bother you; he was hurt, after all. But when the apology never came, you understood that you’d be going through your last year of high school without your closest friend there by your side.

A fortnight passed without any word from him so it surprised you when he showed up at the local meetup that the three of you used to go to. He refused to meet your eyes but he had no problem leveling with the glares Alexia kept giving him. And when you ended up in Alexia’s team, the only sign of his distaste about it was the way his lips flattened to a line. He looked like he was about to say something, but with a slight shake of his head, he turned around and made his way to his teammates.

With one last look at Guille’s retreating back, you tuned back in your team’s conversation.

“—doesn’t need to play keeper. We need her more in the offensive.” Alexia said evenly but when you met her eyes, there was a clear question in them. 

You gave her a slight nod to let her know you were okay. 

She nodded back.

“How will that work? She’s the better keeper.” And then Marco added, “No offense, Julia.” 

Julia only shrugged carelessly, a gesture of nonchalance.

“Julia is perfectly fine and besides, with you, Benji, and Carmen, our backline is already strong. The four of you together lessens our chance of conceding.” Alexia paused, looking over her shoulder to the other team before she faced you all again, continuing, “Our priority is the offensive. What good is a strong backline if we can’t counterattack? That’s why I’m suggesting she play as forward in the meantime, while Martina and I will play as interiors. Does that make sense?”

A collective nodding occurred.

“So just to clarify, we’re playing three–two–one?” Benji asked.

Alexia hummed, nodding her head. “Mostly. If we find the space and some opportunities, we can easily do three–one–two.”

“No pressure on us defenders, right?” Carmen said with a laugh, if not with a hint of nerve. 

Everyone laughed but at the end of it, Alexia placed a hand on Carmen’s shoulder. “No pressure because you guys, as I said, are very strong. You got this.”

Carmen smiled at Alexia at that, nodding before she finally moved to her spot. As you and Alexia moved towards the middle of the pitch, Guille was introduced to your line of sight, and a weight pressed in your gut. Disappointment? Perhaps. Or maybe you just actually missed talking and hanging out with him.

Alexia’s teasing tone pulled away your attention from Guille.  “I hope you haven’t forgotten how to play forward from all the keeping you’ve been doing.”

“Four years of keeping against the five years of playing forward? You need to brush up on your math ‘cause I think you’ve forgotten how to count.” You said dryly, giving her a look so dirty that had her throwing her head back in laughter.

Alexia leveled you with an unimpressed look but her tone remained playful. “You are such a bitch sometimes. You know that, right?”

“Thank you. I do try, you know. It’s my only defense against your smart-mouth.”

“Stop denying you don’t like my teasing.” Alexia waggled her brows as she smirked. The way she looked just then—with both hands on her hips, the ball beneath her left boot—your throat dried, heart racing; a sensation that’d familiarized itself to you during its recurrent visits over the past few weeks. Your mind blanked out, clear as the white of Alexia’s shirt, and when no words came to you to retort back, you shook your head and just laughed. By the time the game started—or maybe it was because it started—the feeling finally went away, replaced by the adrenaline that shot through your veins the moment Alexia kicked the ball to you.

It proved to be a tight game. The main strategy of the opposition seemed to be to mark and shut you and Alexia down whenever the ball so much turned your way. Alexia was right to trust your backline: any counterattack from the other team was dealt with immediately, and Julia only needed to save a handful of shots that passed through your defense, which she handled well.

At last, your team finally made a breakthrough.

Alexia cut a diagonal through the box, taking two of the defenders as she did, freeing up the space just behind her. You knew what she was doing so you faked a sidestep, turning quickly to lose your marker, before you sprinted in towards the middle of the box. And as you anticipated, Alexia sent the ball back to you with a flick of her heel. Now, if you could just—

The ground tilted, and there was a moment where the whole world suspended. It lasted for less than a breath before everything—the sensations and sounds—came rushing back in.

You slammed to the ground. 

Air was squeezed out of your lungs from the impact, while your skull and teeth rattled within the confines of your skin; the taste of green, earth, and copper spread on your tongue. Muffled shouts and grunts filtered past the ringing in your ear but when you cupped a hand over your tender ribs, your resulting groan was all you could hear.

When you finally came to, Alexia’s face was over you, the doubled image of her finally merging into one. Her wide, hazel eyes looked on you with worry and you felt the warmth of her fingers as they grazed over your face: from your temples down to your cheeks which she took in a gentle cradle.

“Alexia?” You let out another groan as you turned on your back while Alexia helped you.

“Tell me where it hurts.”

There was a tension that constricted around the front part of your head, but you could feel the blood pulsing most on the side that collided with the ground. “My head… it hurts.”

“Okay, okay. Just lay down for now, I’ll get you…”

You seemed to have passed out after that because one moment you were lying on the fields, and the next you were beside Alexia on her living room couch. You had a vague recollection of being carried on Alexia’s back, but the feel of the strong plane of her shoulder against your cheek remained there, warm and comforting. 

And only then, after Eli gave you ice for your head, did you see the bruise that bloomed deep in the skin of Alexia’s jaw, just below her left cheek, and the scuffed knuckles of her right hand which were splotched with deep reds and purples.

You took her hand onto your lap, gently running over the ice for your head over her knuckles, while you looked at Eli sitting on the opposite couch with Jaume beside her. Eli’s face burnt redder than you’d ever seen before, while Jaume held onto her hand, circling his thumb over the top of it in an attempt to calm her down.

Alexia remained quiet the whole time, eyes casted down as she took her mother’s reprimanding words. There was the unmistakable shine of shame in them, her guilt, but also an unwavering quality that stood for what she did. At the end of it, Eli and Jaume hugged the both of you before letting you retreat into Alexia’s room as you waited for your parents to arrive.

Instead of getting on her bed with you, Alexia plopped down on the floor just by the foot of the bed, her back against the wooden bedframe. You regarded the back of her head, her neck curved downwards, and you suddenly felt the need to be close to her so you shuffled off her sheets, and got down beside her. 

“Thank you, but your mother was right, you know? You shouldn’t have done it, Alexia.” You mumbled, unfurling her fingers to rest on your knee so you could access more of her knuckles that way. Gently, you placed ice over it, but she still hissed in pain. “You shouldn’t have punched him.”

“Why not? He deserved it.” Alexia said evenly as she stared at the far corner of the room. “And before you start defending him, you didn’t see what I saw—what the rest of us saw. He didn’t even touch the ball—it was all feet. He meant to trip you up.” 

Warmth bloomed in your chest at her words—at how her action showed just how much you meant to her—but the discomfort in your gut marred the surge of your affection for her. 

You took a deep breath, sighed it out, and it tasted like disappointment. 

“Alexia, I appreciate the gesture, I do. But you can’t just hurt people just because they did something to me.” 

Alexia puffed her chest and proclaimed, “I can.”

“Stop that nonsense, Alexia. I mean it.” Firmer now, you said, and there was a hint of desperation in the intonation of your words. There was an urgent need to make Alexia understand the gravity of what she did, what future implications it held if what Eli and you told her didn’t sink in now. “Actions like this can jeopardize you, Alexia, and all the things you worked hard for. Do you understand that? What will Alejandro say when he sees you all bruised up next practice? And if I get tackled dirty during a game and I get hurt, would you risk a red card, or suspension, for behaving like this?”

Alexia became silent, the muscle in her jaw working, and when she turned to you with her mouth open and you spotted a defiant crease in her brows, you were quick to stop her.

“If the answer to that question isn’t no, Ale, I don’t want to hear it.” The sound of teeth clattering filled the air. She casted her gaze aside again, her cheeks growing a shade deeper. “Look at me, Alexia.”

When she kept her eyes glued to the floor, you dropped the ice pack to take her face in your hands. She flinched from the coldness of your fingers but as you looked into her eyes, rimmed with redness and framed by drooping eyelids, you found exhaustion and the shine of apology. You brushed away a matted lock of hair from the tail end of her brow.

“You have a good heart, Alexia, but you have to promise me. Please don’t do something like this again. Ever.” 

Alexia looked into your eyes, deeply as if in contemplation, and then she closed them. A moment later, she sighed, sagging into your touch as if a weight had left her shoulders, before she opened them again. 

“I promise.” 

This time, you believed her.

Smiling softly at her, you whispered, while you placed a light kiss on her cheek. “Thank you.”

Settling into the moment, you rested your head against Alexia’s shoulder, her bruised hand in yours. In the brief silence before your father arrived to pick you up, Alexia spoke in an earnest tone that made your stomach flutter.

“I know you can handle yourself, but that won’t stop me from having your back.”

At her words, your heart felt like it would burst your chest open. And you should’ve known that this was where you’d end up—with her, it seemed inevitable anyway—because the years of you’d known Alexia flashed quickly before your eyes, and the memory stopped to this person beside you, haloed golden by the warm glow of her bedside lamp, and you were hit with a realization that took what little breath you had away.

You liked Alexia.

And, even more importantly, you want her.

[6]

When you got on the field in a Barça jersey for the first time after your return, you didn’t expect to be welcomed like you did. Jona subbed you on after the first half and as you left the tunnel, you heard the crowd chanting your name. The cheers made you feel excited, accepted and seen, but you’d be lying if you said that it didn’t pressure you at all.

It was originally intended for you to come on during the last twenty minutes, but seeing as Caro, Patri, and Alexia gave the team a comfortable enough lead, Jona decided to sub you on ahead of schedule. You didn’t see much action on your end though, something that you didn’t mind at all—a quiet defensive-third was the best kind. The midfielders kept the midline high to sustain pressure in the offensive-third, while the defenders maintained such a tight backline that any loose through-balls sent to the opposing runners were called offside. Of course, there were a handful of times when you needed to get out of your box to ping the ball back into the offensive, but other than that, it was quiet. When the match ended, you were satisfied that Barça had another clean sheet and four goals to add to the season tally.

For the celebration, you moved with your teammates around Estadi Johan Cruyff, and during the procession, you spied your parents, Eli, and Alba who was talking to a raven-haired woman you’d never seen before, clapping and cheering. Warmth filled you upon seeing your family in the stands again—such a scene was a luxury when you were in the States because plane tickets weren’t exactly cheap—and when you felt the familiar weight of Alexia’s arm slung over your shoulders, the fabric of her captain armband against the skin of your neck, it felt like a perfect homecoming.

Well, almost.

After you’d showered and changed to your casuals, most of the crowd had gone while some lounged about, one of which was the raven-haired woman Alba was talking to. When Alexia took her hand, you knew instantly, and your heart—damn your heart—dropped.

“This is Diana,” Alexia said after the both of them made their way to you. And if it wasn’t their intertwined hands that revealed what they were to each other, their gaze—saccharine when they met—made it all the more clear the nature of their relationship long before Alexia said the words, “my girlfriend.”

Diana beamed up at Alexia, her cheeks deepening in color before she regarded you again, sticking her hand out towards you to shake. Preceding the intention, you took her hand and when you did, Diana placed her other hand over yours, clasping your hand between her warm palms.

“It’s so nice to finally meet you. Alexia’s talked so much about you.” 

She did? Your eyes flitted to Alexia but when she shied away from that, you focused back on Diana’s face. She was stunning: with her high cheekbones carved to elegance, her brows following the perfect line of her temple, her full lips painted with a terracotta shade made deeper by the bronze of her skin, while her loose, straight, raven hair framed her face in such a way that accentuated the sharpness of her jaws. Her eyes were dark but still light enough to see the outline of her pupils, and they had an amiable shape that reflected her warm nature. And for some reason, her light brown eyes looked really familiar—

“Ah! My favorite cousin made it, after all! Although I’m not sure it was me you went to the game for!” Tori’s playful voice resonated in the near-barren corridor. Diana’s eyes flicked somewhere behind you—to Tori, you supposed.

“Don’t be like that, Tori, of course I came to see you, too!”

“Lies!”

Diana shook her head, laughing, as she took Tori in her arms. “Come here, you!”

In response, Tori said something in Portuguese that made Diana laugh. When they broke apart, Diana said, “Forget you? Never. Especially when I owe you one.”

“Owe her what?” Alexia asked with her brows creased with curiosity.

Diana took Alexia’s hand and squeezed it, looking up at Alexia with a gentle expression. “For giving us the chance to meet.”

“Damn right!” Tori exclaimed, putting both hands on her hips, as she grinned so wide that her dimple showed. Tori must’ve seen your confusion because she leaned in to whisper, “I brought Diana as my plus one for last year’s Ballon D’Or ceremony.”

You allowed your mouth to drop open before you smiled, letting out a small laugh that made your chest ache. “Ah, I see.”

“She kept complaining about going but now, aren’t you grateful I took you away from your precinct, Detective Beauregard?” Tori teased.

“She’s never going to let us live this down, will she?” Diana muttered dryly to Alexia but it was deliberately loud enough for all of you to hear. In response, Alexia threw her head back laughing. 

“You’re a detective? That’s amazing!” You said, impressed.

“Please, Tori’s exaggerating. I work in forensics. DNA analyst is the correct title.” Diana threw Tori a dirty look to which the other woman raised her shoulders in response. “It’s a whole different world compared to yours so—and please don’t let this get to your head, Tori—I am grateful I was able to step into it.”

Her eyes, still locked with Alexia’s, grew all the more soft.

“Get a room, you guys,” Tori said with a mock sound of disgust, and then she continued to mutter, “And to think that you’ve only been going out for four months… I don’t even want to think about how it will be like in another three months.”

At that, Alexia raised a brow and then, “Want to do some extra laps tomorrow?”

You and Tori knew Alexia was joking, but Tori being Tori, she spluttered, “That would be a hard no, Captain. I’ll just—Have a great night!” 

With that, she ran away, arms flailing behind her in an exaggerated manner as she hastily made her exit. The sight drew laughter from the three of you.

“We’re having dinner at Mamá’s, want to come over?” Alexia asked.

You shook your head, flashing a look at Diana, before you told Alexia,“Not tonight. I’m just about to head over to my parents’ as well.”

“Alright. But Alba’s going to ask about you, you know? I think she wants to hang  out with you.”

You laughed. “Tell her to text me. She’ll know what that means.”

“Is that something I should know about?” Alexia smirked.

Flatly, you retorted, “If it’s something that concerns you, I’d be telling you by now, right?” 

“You see what I have to deal with?” Alexia told Diana, almost whining.

Inching backwards, you said as dry as you could manage, “I’ll take that as my queue to leave, Alexia might start crying. She’s a crybaby, you know?” 

“Hey! I’m not—”

“No need to be embarrassed about it, Alexia. Be proud!”

Diana only laughed, saying, “Alright, kids, I think that’s enough for tonight.”

Nodding, you grinned at Alexia while she mouthed the word ‘bitch’ to you. In kind, you mouthed ‘smartmouth’ back. With a shake of her head and a smile, she gave you one last hug, and after a pleasant goodnight from Diana, the three of you parted ways.

You sent them a look over your shoulder, catching a glimpse of the watch around Alexia’s left wrist. It glinted as they walked together down the corridor, hand in hand, looking as in love as any new couple would. 

The sight made you smile, but it felt heavy, and as if the universe wanted to rub salt to the wound, you found Patri outside the locker room when you turned around with a look akin to pity in her eyes.

[7]

The next day, Guille stopped by at your place. He’d given you notice a few days prior but even still, the moment you saw him behind the door, you squealed like you were ten again from your excitement. After you hugged him tight—he made a choking noise when you did to tease you—you held him at arm’s length to see what changes the last few months had done to him.

He looked different. Gone were the long, dark curls; now sheared close to his scalp that left only about an inch of length, his hair retained their luscious shine, their color still as dark as night. 

His scar—the one just by the tail end of his left brow—that used to see little light from the obstruction of his hair, now stood apparent and without meaning to, the day he got it came back to you: the bruised knuckles, ice-cold fingers, and the warm blush of a lamplight.

 And your chest ached a little.

Leading the conversation to the living room, the two of you ended up ordering takeaways—mostly for Guille’s benefit because you weren’t about to subject him to your football diet—and as you ate, the two of you caught up.

Guille was close to finishing his dissertation—the biomechanics of concussion in sport and its neurocognitive implications—and he was both excited and fearful about what would come next. He then talked about his girlfriend, Iris, smittenly if you might add. She was actually with him in the city, but his mother insisted she steal Iris for the day for some quality bonding, and you laughed at the repertoire of stories he’d relayed in great detail about his mother’s teasing of their relationship.

“When am I going to meet Iris?” You asked with a teasing tone.

He rolled his eyes, “Well, since you’re actually staying in Barcelona this time, we can arrange that.”

A pause, and then, “Is Alexia staying here, too, or are you here by yourself?”

“No, it’s just me here.”

“Oh. I thought the two of you’d be rooming again like—” Probably seeing your change in demeanor, Guille cleared his throat as he ate his pasta a bit too eagerly. “Speaking of, how is she?”

The question was casual but you knew it was anything but.

“She’s doing good, if not a little stressed. Our first Champions League game is just around the corner after all and it’s against Chelsea, so.” You shrugged to complete your thought. You knew what he was asking but you’d rather not talk about that.

His eyes could burn a hole on the side of your head by the way he stared at you in the silence that followed. Then he sighed deeply.

“She still doesn’t know.”

Tension filled every inch of your body and you shrank tight as a coiled spring. You stood up as you felt a sudden urge to get away from him, taking the used plates on the coffee table as a pretense to move from the couch to the sink.

“What’s it to you if she doesn’t know, Guille?” You asked flatly, rolling up your sleeves after you turned the tap on.

“I just want you to be happy. Is that so wrong?”

“And who says I’m not?” Your tone was flat and when you glanced at him over your shoulder, Guille only gave you a pointed look.

Then he said softly, “She could make you happier and you know it.”

And there it was again, that look in his eyes that you just couldn’t stand. Gritting your teeth, you gripped the edge of the sink and your voice quaked when you spoke. “Please stop talking like that.”

“Like what?”

“Like,” you tried to find the words but when they evaded you, you huffed and threw your hands up in the air. “Why are you making it sound like I have a chance?”

“Because you do! You’re the one who’s not giving Alexia a chance by not telling her.”

“Give me one good reason why I should.”

“She loves you.”

A pause.

“That’s bullshit.” You shook your head, letting out a small, disbelieving laugh. As much as your heart wanted that to be true, you knew otherwise.

“It’s really fucking not.” Guille countered.

“If she did, she wouldn’t have said what she did.” 

“People say stupid shit when they’re drunk.”

“That can go the other way, too. Alcohol has a way of loosening what’s been bottled.”

“Oh, come on!” Guille scoffed. “You’ve known her since you were eight. You’ve been through thick and thin together! Do you really think she wanted you to leave?”

With the reminder, the memory sprung up on you and you could hear Alexia’s voice, grating and wrenching your heart raw again when you heard the words from her lips. You whirled around to face him, eyes burning.

“You weren’t there when she told me, Guille!” You breathed out sharply and then you continued, in a lower tone filled with resignation, you whispered as you buried your face in your palms. “You didn’t hear the way she said it. You didn’t—”

You choked on your words. 

After all this time, it was still too painful.

Darkness filled your vision but the tears escaped nonetheless, branding tracks down your cheeks. You heard the rustling of clothes followed by soft footsteps. Before you knew it, Guille’s arms wrapped around your shoulders and his familiar, comforting scent made you sink into the embrace.

“You’re right. I wasn’t there. But if you could forgive me for being an asshole and what I did to you, why can’t you do the same with her?”

You didn’t say anything after that, only clutched at his shirt a little tighter.

Guille kept quiet, too.

The both of you knew just the reason why.

[8]

“Did you see the news?” Jona asked as he kept the door open for you to an empty meeting room, closing it as soon as you’d gone in. 

Sitting down on one of the cushioned chairs, you said, “I did.”

You saw it this morning and you’d be lying if you said it didn’t faze you. 

Jona nodded, taking the chair across the table from you. He put his clasped hands on the wooden surface and the way he tapped an erratic rhythm with his thumbs didn’t help your nerves.

“Lyon paid a hefty transfer fee for her and that makes me worried. I don’t know what Bompastor is planning to do with her but her transfer to the European league will be a concern for the club.” With a pensive crease appearing between his brows, he continued. “You probably know why I asked you to come in.”

“You want me to tell you what I know about her.”

He nodded, leaning forward as if to emphasize his point. “She’s a lethal forward and you’re the only one in the club who’s ever played with her. In fact, you two seemed very close during your time in Angel City.”

You crossed your arms, leaning back into your chair, frowning slightly. “I don’t know what you’re trying to say.”

Jona blinked at you.

Then slowly, “Surely you must’ve trained closely together considering she’s a forward and you’re a keeper? Unless training was vastly different in Angel City, then I’m sorry for the assumption.”

“O–Oh, I thought you were implying—” You shook your head, uncrossing your arms as you waved the rest of your sentence away. “Never mind. But yes, that’s right.”

Jona gave you another questioning look before speaking again. 

“She’s going to be a big problem. And that’s why I’m going to change things up a bit. I want to put you in the starting lineup as soon as possible—put as many games with our current team under your belt. We’ll most likely face Lyon in the Quarters and that’s unfortunate but what is great is that you’re here: the best counter to what Lyon acquired. If we could eliminate Lyon early, we have a higher chance of winning this year’s Champions League. The question is, are you ready for it?”

“That’s what I’m here for, Jona.” You said seriously, ignoring the pressure that pressed in the periphery of your mind.

“Use me.”

[evenmorefatallyobsessed]

Milfs Models Candidates

Okay, so after many suggestions and research I've found some more possible Milf Candidates for me to make in the future. I would say don't judge me... But I think that'd be a lost cause.

Milf 01. Tsuki Uzaki

Y'know it's funny, I actually hate Hana, like she is kinda insufferable to me, I feel bad for Shinichi... Her mother, and sister (And Maybe Brother?) on the other hand... Yeah Tsuki is a top Class Milf.

Milf 02. Mitsuki Bakugo

I love her look, her attitude, just a perfect Milf, I shouldn't have to say more...

Milf 03. Nana Shimura

Muscle Momm-'Cough, Cough' Sorry, anyways, I like Nana, in the same way I like Endeavor, that is to say I like how their flawed individuals. But her flaw is the same as Summer's, she cares too much about doing good to the point where she hurt those close to her... Honestly someone should've slapped some sense into her when she decided to abandon her son. Like I get it, she just lost her husband the big bad would've targeted him... BUT C'MON!!! WHY WOULD YOU THINK OFA WASN'T ALREADY TARGETING YOU!!! Like she gets some leeway because obviously after just losing her husband she couldn't have been in the right state of mind but someone should've realized that possibility.

Milf 04. Lusamine

I hesitated with her mainly because I'd have to use the Hair accessories for her, and wouldn't be able to make other hair styles convincingly. But Yeah I'll probably be making her soon, cuz damn man, she's up there with Cynthia.

Milf 05. Susan Luong-Long

I, and I'm sure a good number of guys (And Girls) who blame this character for our fascination with Asian mommies...

Milf 06. Delia Ketchum

Honestly lowkey one of the best Pokémon Milfs.

Milf 07. Pokémon Black & White's Mom

Yeah, Pokémon knows exactly what it's doing by making Milfs like this...

Milf 08. Johanna (Dawn's Mom)

I Love Her Design, it's rather simple but utterly perfect!

Milf 09. Grace (Pokémon X & Y's Mom)

A sporty, country, mom who looks like she's ready to ride a bull, they really didn't use her near enough.

Milf 10. Prof. Sada

She makes me return to monke... those abs make, that tan, her wild look. Just, y'know a lot of people bought Scarlet for her alone...

Milf 11. Pokémon Scarlet & Violet's Mom

Penny was right, their mom is hot... I prefer the model with paler skin and deep brown hair myself.

Milf 12. Pokémon Sword & Shield's Mom

Not gonna lie, never played sword or shield, but I gotta say, she is a pretty mom. I like the glasses look with the overalls, gives her a fun vibe. I feel like there'll be a shock factor if I put her in other outfits too, so that'll be fun to see.

Milf 13. Pokémon Black & White 2's Mom

Mostly I wanna make her cuz there is a absolute lack of content of her and I'm kinda digging the idea of making her look utterly different with her hair down.

Milf 14. Lila Test

Y'know, I already wanna make Susan & Mary Test for Dexter when I get to him, so why not the mom too.

Milf 15. Charlotte Pickles

These three images convinced me, at first I couldn't see it, but thank you Anon, I've been shown the light. I like Milf in suits apparently... I learned something new about myself.

Milf 16. Jane Jetson

Ahh, Boomerang, how I miss you, this is just a Atlas Mom to me, and I feel like this further proves my childhood interest in redheads...

Milf 17. Wilma Flintstone

Y'know, I would complain that I can't find a decent pic of Wilma without Betty in it... Wait, No I Wouldn't! She next anyways. Well, this only serves to prove the whole Redheads thing lil' me had going on. I'mma say there from a Secluded Vacuian tribe, fucking savages... Hot, hot savage Milf.

Milf 18. Betty Rubble

Cavewoman are justice, and need to reenter the genepool of Remnant.

Milf 19. Carol from OK K.O.

Okay, so recently someone's ask me to make characters from OK K.O. Let's Be Heroes. Specifically Fink & Wilhamena, and to that all I have to say is... HOW DARE YOU NOT MENTION CAROL!!! Dude! Tanned Muscle Mommy! Seriously, she looks like she could be a badass. Not sure how faithful to the design I can be, or well want to be but I definitely like this character.

Milf 20. Wilhamena from OK K.O.

I mean, I get why so many people brought her up, I am looking forward to making this design, seems like it'd be fun. Still kinow nothing about the show though...

Okay, Last four... Gonna get a bit weird, feel free to judge me -_-

Milf 21. Nicole Watterson

I'd probably use the middle design as her actual model in Remnant making her a Faunus. Her Semblance would be '2D' Which references her cartoon origin but also can me Two Ds/ Doppelgangers, but well neither actually look like her but she can share her senses with them or have them act independently.

Milf 22. Lin (Millie's Mom)

Not gonna lie, I wanna make her half to have her get hate fucked (At Least at first), not the most honorable of intentions but FUCK HER!!! I get she's Millie's Mom, and a seemingly good one, but she hates Moxxie Way Too Much! How Can You Hate Moxxie! He's Adorable and a utterly devoted Husband! What, Just Cuz He's Not Country Strong, Fuck Off, No, Fuck Her! Fuck All The Bitch Outta This Milf With a Big Human Cock!

Milf 23. Toriel from Undertale

She is Literally the Goat HAHAHA!!! Okay but seriously I kinda have to make her. There is just WAY too much content for me to have ignored her. I typed in Game Milfs and this Goat showed up more then the Pokémon Moms.

Milf 24. Mrs. Kattswell

... God Dammit, I'm a fucking furry...

[captain-sunshine-11]

Like yes Matt Boyd has a sunny disposition and is generally friendly but that isn't all he is.

Like pretty much all of the AFTG characters--let alone any character--Matt is defined by his relationships and his past.

Matt is Dan's loving boyfriend. Matt Boyd is Neil Josten's roommate and teammate (and was Seth's). Matthew Boyd is number 04 as the backliner to Wymack's Palmetto State Foxes. Matthew Donovan Boyd is the son of his fiery boxer mother and his pissy surgeon father.

These are all surface level observations and it causes no harm to pull from these, after all, this is the basis of Matt's character. A kind boy becoming man that holds his friends and family close because he had a taste of how shitty things could get. He knows he got a second chance and is using it.

But it wouldn't hurt to remind the fandom of the slight depth Nora had given to his character and how we could expand on that. By 'slight depth' I mean a provided backstory and choices he makes that effects Neil's way of seeing things. It makes sense, Neil's unreliable narrator-ness and the fact that Nora hadn't ever planned on expanding on the Upperclassmen. Which is fine! Because that's where we come in (and the extra content on Matt if you can find it lol).

Do not forget that Matt also struggled with addiction and has recovered in a way that was horribly rough on his system. Don't forget that while he is fiercely protective he won't hesitate to throw a fuckin' punch-- (hes the son of Randy Boyd goddamnit!!!). And that he loves his mom and has a strained relationship with his dad! He was shy and skittish before he got clean for good. He was Seth's closest friend, maybe out of necessity because they were roommates, but you sure as fuck know he didn't take Seth's death well. He is Neil's best friend and Neil was his best man for his wedding; he cherishes that 5'3" gremlin even though Neil has his father's smile. He loves deeply and is not ashamed that Dan had previously been a stripper and does not feel threatened by her authority.

Matthew Donovan Boyd, guys!!

[its-been-rose]

So I spent like 2 hours on this

Anyways, let me explain:

Methodology: to make this map I watched an unedited playthrough of the game and marked down how long it took to get from one scripted event to the next. I then inserted in the known times/save points the game gives you at certain intervals. I then calculated at what time each event would take place given how long the game takes to actually play, and then put those numbers to correspond with the actual in- game clock. All times marked with a ~ are approximate.

What I found:

The game is actually pretty much in real time, with some exceptions. There are some timeskips. If you’re playing a speedrun, you’re gonna come in at like 3:30, and the game ends roughly at 4 am ish. This means that if you do everything super fast and don’t waste any time, the game timeskips about half an hour here and there. I tried to account for these timeskips where they occur in my map like adding two minutes when Roddy’s song is skipped. Some sections also take a bit longer than the in-game time. For example, the time from Maurice to Virginia to Eugene to Murphy is much longer irl than it is in-universe, meaning no matter who is doing what kill, they are BOOKING IT from victim to victim.

Who did what: so my choices of who did what kill rely on two things: one, proximity to the confirmed kills/scripted events, and two, my own personal headcanons for who did which. I will now put the game’s timeline in order as well as who did what. Please keep in mind anything happening within KFAM like ponty’s calls or the little Peggy q and an after Maurice or Forrest being the rizz king to Sandra are not included.

~11:40 pm: sheriff Matthews is killed (Marie) (I didn’t put an actual time on the map for this because i don’t know if it’s right or not but in my HEAD, Marie started her attack at George’s TOD)

~11:55 pm: whatever the opening cutscene is (Henry)

~12:04 am: Leslie is attacked (Marie)

-Marie recovers from being shot at by the Sherriff and tased by leslie

~12:25 am: Sandra is attacked (Marie) (Sandra’s excact location is unknown but I put her by what is presumably a parking lot by the football field near the river running route.) (Sandra is not seen getting into her car because Marie takes a longer time to actually get into the parking lot due to being injured)

~12:25 am: Henry slashes the fire engine tires and makes his way up to Maurice.

~12:47 am: Maurice reports a break in (Henry)

-Henry is locked in the archive for like 10 minutes

-Marie drops off the tape on her way to get Henry

-when she breaks him out, they hear Murphy acting a fool, but Marie tells henry to stick to his current target before going up to the maze.

~1:20 am: Marie calls Virginia because she has the phone and sends Henry on his way (Virginia’s location is also unknown so I just guessed)

~1:35 am: Henry goes to attack Virginia but is scared off by the frat. Immediately books it to Murphy.

~1:40 am: Eugene is attacked (Marie)

-marie, on her way to the graveyard, sees the teens going to the murder house and watches

~1:53 am: Murphy is attacked (Henry)

-Marie sees the prank unfolding and slips into the group

~2:15 am: the teens are attacked (Marie)

-Marie spends a few minutes at the graveyard visiting George and recovering from getting a bookshelf tipped over on top of her

~2:32 am: Forrest spots the whistling man outside KFAM when going to retrieve LRH (Henry)

~2:43 am: Marie and Henry meet outside the gas station to regroup (optional? Idk)

~2:45 am: the bomb is detonated (Marie)

-Henry goes back to KFAM to hang out outside as the last victims are personal to his mother.

~3:10 am: Ricky is attacked (Marie)

~3:18 am: Jason is stabbed in the woods (Marie)

~3:25 am: Casey calls KFAM now inside her house

-Marie kidnaps Teddy on her way to the school gym

~3:45 am: Henry enters KFAM and locks Forrest in the producer booth

~3:46 am: Interview with Teddy begins (Marie)

~3:58 am: Peggy confronts Marie

Thoughts? Do you agree or disagree? What would you change? Do you think this was a complete waste of my Sunday evening? I’d love to hear your thoughts!!

*edited to add: I changed Virginias location to make at least a little more sense lol

[madlittlecriminal]

[04] Secret Ingredient⥓ Mafia!Miguel O'Hara × Female!Baker!Reader

Warnings: Danny is an oc, mention of death in the family (not reader or miguel related), mention of pregnancy (not reader), annoying customers, two cliffhangers in one (im sorry), patrick o'hara (web-slinger)

series masterlist | miguel o'hara masterlist

Another day, another employee seeming to irritate him to the core. Miguel didn't understand what was so hard for this guy to understand that no meant no, but seeing him beg Miguel for a day off when his PTO ran out was comical to say the least.

"For the last time, Danny, you used up your PTO. I cannot give you the day off simply because you don't want to work. If you were at work more often instead of doing whatever you want to do, then maybe you'd have the day off." He says while leaning back in his chair.

"But you don't understand! I need the day off, Mr. O'Hara! Please!"

"Give me a valid reason why and I'll think about it." It was bullshit. The only way Danny was going to get out of this is if his fiancée was giving birth or if he had a death in the family. For any other reason, Danny was going back to work and Miguel didn't care if Danny was going to throw a fit.

He was honestly surprised that Danny and his fiancée were still together considering he hardly works and they live together.

"Well...you see..." Danny started, but he couldn't come up with a valid excuse other than not wanting to work.

Miguel waited for him, his leg folded to where his ankle rested on his knee and his hands folded on top of his abdomen. He tilted to the side as he listened to Danny stutter.

"Danny, I'm a patient man. However, your stutter isn't natural. You're nervous because you can't come up with a lie right now and that's fine. However, don't expect me to listen to you if you can't come up with a lie. Get back to work."

Danny grumbled before leaving Miguel's office, slamming the door behind him.

"Slamming doors como si paga por algo-" he paused and shuddered. "Oh God, I sound like my mother." (like of you pay for something-) Miguel shook his head and fixed his blazer before going to type on his computer before his phone rang. A small smile formed on his lips when he saw your name pop up on the screen, but he didn't answer it until the third ring.

"I thought you gave me a fake number there for a second." You let out a sigh, making Miguel let out a shy chuckle, fidgeting with his pen as he tried to tell himself to relax from how hard his heart was thumping in his chest with nerves.

"Nope. Right number." He says, leaning back into his chair again as he heard you put the phone down.

"Good! Okay, I had a weird question to ask you." You say, everything around you sounding much louder which he automatically connected it to you putting the phone on speaker.

"Ask away." He reaches over and grabs his glass of water with a trembling hand from his nerves.

"Why did you need to know about interior designers and such?"

Miguel smirks, thanking whoever that it was a phone call and not in person communication or a video call. "That's for me to know and for you to find out."

"Of course it is."

He heard you huff out a breath and he couldn't help but bite his bottom lip to hold back a laugh.

There had to be flaws somewhere in you...right? I mean, he only saw perfection-

'No. Stop it, Miguel. Not yet. Don't fall just yet.'

"Well, I'll let you go. I have a cake to work on."

Before he could get a word in, you hung up.

Miguel put his phone down and let out a chuckle. He rests his elbow on the arm rest of his desk chair, his chin resting on his palm as he let his mind wander a bit.

Where did his mind wander to exactly?

To you.

He wondered if your hands were rough or surprisingly soft. He wondered where you learned to bake. Was it taught to you by a parent or guardian? Did you learn from recipe books? YouTube videos? I mean, he had to thank someone for your talent. Shit, he wouldn't be surprised if you were self taught.

He shook his head before a soft knock was heard from his office door. He looked up and immediately regretted it when he saw the look of shock and anxiousness on Lyla's face.

"They're here for the meeting, Mr. O'Hara."

He got up and buttoned his blazer before following Lyla out of his office and into the conference room. He knew Lyla well enough that when she said his last name, it wasn't Alchemax business.

-----

You raise a brow at the man in front of you who was asking for a gender reveal cake.

"Sorry, can you repeat that?"

"I want a gender reveal cake, but instead of the usual pink and blue and you do black?"

You blink at him.

"Black and...?"

"Just black."

"Do you want the frosting black?"

"No. I want the cake to be black."

"Sir, that's not how a gender reveal cake works. If you want, I can do black and whi-"

"No, I want black."

"What's the gender?"

"Boy."

"Okay. So you want everything to be black?"

He nods.

"What flavor?"

"Vanilla."

You stood there for a bit, screaming internally as you head to the back to take out a vanilla cake you just made. You quickly made black frosting with food coloring before decorating the cake. When you triple checked that it was perfect, you showed it to the customer.

"You made sure it was blue on the inside, right?"

You wanted to throw it at the customer.

"Sir, you told me you didn't want to do pink or blue, you wanted black."

"Yeah. The frosting."

You clenched your teeth before forcing a smile.

"Anything else?"

"Yeah, I need it within the next two hours or so."

"Come again?"

He gave you a nod before stepping out of the bakery.

"Customers piss me off sometimes." You murmur.

"Do they? I'm sorry to hear that."

Your eyes widen before they meet a familiar pair of brown eyes.

"Hey darlin'. Hope I'm not interrupting anythin' important." Patrick says softly, giving his charming country boy smile that made you relax.

~~~~

tags:

@deputy-videogamer @barbiecrocs @deepinballs @faimmm @wakeupr41 @bubblegumfanfictions @smartyren @kimmis-stuff @latenightcravingz @youcantseem3 @corpsebridenightamare @thedevax @cicithemess @diannana @itsameclinicaldepresssion @hwasoup @migueloharasbbm @vkumi

[thehusbandoden]

Question? Remember the story you did called “soft kitty.” Would it be possible to do like a part two for that story? but with the rest of the LOV (separately) like Spinner, Mr. Compress, Shigaraki or even Toga? I bet they would appreciate it.😊

(Poor baby, her parents probably never comforted her because they were scared of the quirk she has🥺 she definitely needs a mother figure to comfort her😭)

A/n: I am SO sorry this took so long! I've been pretty overwhelmed, stressed, and exhausted from personal issues haha but I'm thankfully getting back into writing.

I don't write for Toga, but here's the rest! This is my first time writing for Mr. Compress so I hope I did okay haha <3

You Sing "Soft Kitty" to Them When They're Sick -MHA Villains

General info:

Genre: fluff/reverse comfort \\ characters: Shigaraki Tamura, Spinner, Mr. Compress \\ posted: 04/01/24 \\ requested

Part one: Dabi, Hawks, Aizawa, Shoto, Tamaki

Part Two: Shigaraki, Spinner, Mr. Compress

Shigaraki Tomura (381 words):

You frowned when you noticed Shigaraki wasn’t in the crowd to greet you. Your eyes swerve through the LOV as you look for your beloved, only to be met with disappointment gas you fail to spot him.  

“Are you looking for Shigaraki Tomura?” Kurogiri speaks up.  

“Yes, do you know where he is?” You turn towards your beloved’s number one comrade.  

“He is ill, he’s resting in his room. He was frustrated he couldn’t come out to see you himself. “ 

You smile at that, though you’re upset he’s sick. “Thank you, Kurogiri. I’ll go see him now.” You walk towards his bedroom door, ignoring the complaining as you ignore the rest of the league. 

You step into the room, spotting Shigaraki lying in bed. His ruby colored eyes finding yours in an instant. They soften ever so slightly, unnoticeable to the people who weren’t close to him. “Baby?” You smile, walking closer. 

“Took you long enough.” He grumbled, moving the blanket to fit you. You giggle, taking your shoes off before climbing in. He grumbles at the delay but relaxes when you’re finally next to him.  

You expected him to pull you into his arms like usual but was caught by surprise when he clung to you himself, burying his head in your chest. You smile softly, instantly flipping the switch.  

You gently card your fingers through his light strands of hair. He sighs, melting into your touch. “Welcome home, my precious.” He mumbles.  

You giggle, kissing his warm forehead. Kissing it again, you frown at the abnormal temperature. “You okay baby? Are you not feeling good?”  

He simply buries himself further into you. You smile slightly, pulling him closer as you caress his hair. “Shhh it’s alright my love.”  

After a few moments you can tell he’s getting sleepy, his eyes growing heavy as he tries to force himself to be awake. You stiffle a giggle, kissing his forehead and cheeks before beginning to sing.  

“Soft kitty, warm kitty, little ball of fur~,” you kiss his forehead, your hands in his hair, “-happy kitty, sleepy kitty, purr purr purr~.”  

You sing the song a few more times before you look down, seeing his sleeping face. You smile softly, kissing in-between his eyebrows before settling down, ready for sleep yourself.  

(Shiggys masterlist)

Spinner (148 words):

You smile up as Spinner enters the room. He’s obviously exhausted from all of the hours he’s put into work, his eyes dark and heavy. He seemed to be unwell too, his nose was stuffy and he looked horrible.  

“Baby? You okay?” You coo, stretching your arms out. He gratefully collaspes in your hold, letting you hold him as he disconnects. You stay silent, knowing that he just needs your support right now.  

After a few moments you decide to sing to him, knowing that it helps when he’s having a really hard time. 

“Soft kitty, warm kitty, little ball of fur~. Happy kitty, sleep kitty, purr purr purr~.” You sing quietly, caressing his head while you pepper soft kisses to his forehead.  

“Thank you.” He rasps, snuggling even closer as he completely melts into your touch.  

“Don’t even worry about thanking me.” You coo, kissing his nose.  

(Spinners masterlist- sorta)

Mr. Compress (181 words)

C’mon baby, you’re sick.” You frown as Atsuhiro begins to get ready for a mission.  

“I must go darling; I will be back in the evening.” He leans down to kiss your forehead, breathing heavily from getting dressed. 

“No, you don’t have to you want to. Please baby. Stay, for me.”  

“Shigaraki needs me, darling.” He sighs, sitting beside you. His hand finds yours as he gently caresses the top of your hand with his thumb.

“I need you.” You pout, trying to guilt him into staying. His lips purse as he looks down at you skeptically.  

“Fine, but I’m not the one to blame if Shigaraki comes storming in here.”  

You giggle happily, pulling your beloved onto you as you lay down, letting him rest on you as you gently kiss his shoulders and cheeks. He begins to fall asleep in your arms.  

“Sing to me?” He whispered, causing you to giggle, but comply.  

“Soft kitty, warm kitty, little ball of fur~. Sleepy kitty, happy kitty, purr purr purr~.” You sing to him gently, smiling down at his asleep form.  

~~~~~

Part One, Dabi, Hawka, Aizawa, Shoto, Tamaki | Main masterlist | Navigation

Reblogs and feedback are greatly appreciated <33

A/n 2: I prefer how I did the first one, but I don't have the energy to rewrite it. I hope this doesn't suck:(

~~~~~

Do not copy, repost, nor plagiarize my work. Ask before you translate or use my work in any way, minus reblogging.

[amywritesthings]

SILVER UNDERGROUND / deleted scene 04.

levi's pov #2. :: a deleted scene from flashback two. this is levi's pov of recruiting james to the gang.

happy silver underground friday! thank you for your patience as i write up ch20. i know many of you requested more levi pov content, so i give to you the initial recruitment (levi's version). this is unedited. 3.5k words / mentions of violence, angst, language, pining. :: please remember: this is additional deleted content, not tied to the current canon of the story.

Three years pass and she still won’t leave his goddamn brain.

The girl with the stale bread.

The girl with the kindness that’ll get her killed down here.

Maybe you're not even that kind — he’s seen how ferociously you take down kids double your size when he’s passing by with Furlan, keeping tabs that you’re still breathing week to week.

Not long after the one and only fight he’s had with you, Kenny disappeared. The son of bitch gave some shitty excuse — something about teaching him all he could — leaving Levi Ackerman in a deathly quiet room for the second time in his life.

Just happened to be alone this time, that’s all.

He almost came to you then, but thought better of it. Getting mixed up in that bitch’s affairs, the one you call Mother, wouldn’t do him any favors.

Maybe she’d up and ditch you the way Kenny ditched him.

Maybe fate would have it—

No.

Dreaming’s a waste of time.

He should keep his distance.

He should never try to speak to you—

“Hello?” 

Furlan waves a hand in front of his face, waking Levi from a dissociative state. His steel gray eyes flicker up to the other boy, expressionless.

“I’m listening,” he curtly replies.

“No you weren’t,” Furlan mumbles, before flopping down into a rickety wooden chair.

This house isn’t much, but it’s home. Better than living on the streets, that’s for damn sure. Somehow him and this kid made enough money to get by and then some — but that’s probably because they’ve found the literal Underground City jackpot.

Two idiot MPs from the surface.

Two sets of Omni-directional Mobility Gear.

(The steal would be much easier than others think. Making the story sound impossible meant other thugs in the area wouldn’t ever try their hand at it.)

Crime’s a hell of a lot easier when you can fly.

Only problem now is that the jobs — and subsequently the money — are harder to come by. Furlan’s insistent on expanding. Levi has no interest in banking on trust beyond Furlan.

Until that idea hit him like a static shock—

All when he realized you were still fighting.

Still, after all these years.

“If you’re still trying to convince me,” Levi boredly starts, “then I might have a name to throw in the ring.”

Furlan perks in his chair, scooting closer. “Well, damn, you coulda said it earlier.”

“I just think you won’t like who I suggest.”

“Huh? Why? One of our guys—”

“No,” Levi cuts off. “Not one of the shitheads we split scraps with. I’m talking about a third.”

“A third… in command?” Furlan slowly inquires. Levi nods once. “So who is it?”

“A girl I knew once,” the dark-haired boy suggests, arms crossed over her chest. When Furlan squints, he continues. “She’s in the fighting rings. Goes by James.”

“She’s a kid?”

“No. Knew her when she was, but now she’s in the adult circuits.”

“So how old is she?”

“Maybe fifteen? Fourteen?” Levi supplies. “Our age.”

“Huh.” Furlan pauses. “And you… think she’d be good? Like how good?’

“Probably the best option we have.”

“Levi Ackerman talking highly about someone else… now that doesn’t happen every day.”

Levi squints in annoyance. 

“Are you cool with me asking her, or not?”

Furlan makes a face. “Well— here’s the thing. If we just add her, chances are the guys we kinda fumble the numbers with will get jealous. We’d probably need to initiate her.”

Levi doesn’t mean to, but he glares right back. Furlan must realize right away that his partner is a fan of the idea — a reaction he’s never offered.

“Five people aren’t jumping her, Furlan,” Levi insists in a bite.

“I— three?”

Three.

He’s seen you take down people double your size and weight. He’s watched you put popular contenders on their backs in seconds. The kids they hire are just that — kids. 

As much as he doesn’t want to agree to it, there has to be a compromise.

You can handle five.

You can certainly handle three.

“Fine,” Levi murmurs. “Three. She has a fight tomorrow.”

“Damn, you’ve been scouting this one?”

Something like that.

.

.

.

.

.

And just as he suspected, you knock them square on their asses.

Truth be told, it’s an unfair fight.

Levi stakes his claim at the corner, in the shadows, and watches the beat down in real time. All goons looking to show off like they know what the hell they’re up against.

They don’t.

Levi does.

When you scramble down the alleyway to get to safety, he takes off into a casual stroll. Taps an unconscious moron or two in the head to make sure they’re seriously out.

(They’re out, alright. Like a snuffed light.)

And when Levi finally catches up to you, you’re swallowed whole by shadow. Your hands are assessing each part of your torso — smart — while your breath exits in a controlled wheeze.

He’s sorry.

He really is, for once.

“You look like shit,” he comments, watching you rip your gaze from your scratched hands towards his voice.

Like a feral, scared animal you watch him.

Blinking once. 

Blinking twice, three times, as if you’re trying to figure out who the hell he is.

Levi knows it’s not from the injuries. You were smart and protected your head as much as possible. He was banking on quick precision from your technique.

“Mind your fucking business,” you snap back at him, and he has to bite his tongue to keep from smiling ear to ear.

(So that’s what you sound like.)

“How bad did they get you?” he casually asks, stepping forward with a boot.

You blink several times once again.

Yeah, you recognize him.

Just like he recognizes you.

“Why do you care?” you hiss, pushing away from the brick wall.

Levi stops moving to give you space. “I don’t.”

(But, fuck, he does. He really does.)

Breathe through the pain all you want, he catches the way you wrap your arm around your abdomen as if he’s going to try and take you on at your weakest.

Maybe those bastards did get a good hit or two in.

“I guess the answer is bad enough.”

“Fuck off.”

“Sure.”

Except he doesn’t want to.

If you let him, then he’ll stay.

“You can leave, you know,” you tell him, and he draws in a slow inhale. “I’ll be fine.”

“Yeah, you’ll be fine so long as those shitheads don’t get up.”

Your head whips behind you to see the alley as if Levi’s spotted anyone. 

No, they’re not actually coming. 

In fact, you knocked them out so thoroughly that it’s a little bit funny.

Then you turn, and his stomach clenches. “I can’t believe you’re still alive.”

“I get that a—”

“Whoa.”

His heart seizes when you stumble. Immediately he shoots to the other end of the wall, ignoring the hand that shoots out to stop him.

“Hold on. What the hell are you doing?” Your nostrils flare. “I said I’m fine.”

Damn it, James. Don’t be proud right now.

“Yeah, and I”m six-foot fucking three.”

And he steps closer.

Closer.

Until the expanse of his chest hovers right at your palm.

Well — you aren’t trying to beat the shit out of him. That’s a plus.

You really do remember me, that sad sack of shit you were nice to.

“Roxy’s is close,” Levi slowly states, hoping you’ll connect what he’s thinking about. That you’ll get to where he’s trying to go with this before he has to spell it out.

“I know.”

“They have back rooms with supplies.”

“I know.”

“So why not go?” he grunts, very much over the bravado he’s very much guilty of himself. “C’mon, dumbass.”

You squeak, but it’s too late — Levi breaks that illusion of distance with a smack of your outstretched hand so he can get to the part he’s been agonizing over all day.

Helping you.

Because he sure as hell isn’t going to let you go through this alone.

(Not when he’s practiced this pitch for a week straight.)

You don’t push him away when he touches you. Hell, you just stare — Levi’s worried he has something in his goddamn teeth.

Then you ask. “Why?”

Surely you know.

Surely by now, you must know the why of this.

Because I owe you.

Because you have left my fucking brain since the day you asked my name.

Levi answers. “Because.”

Cautious with every step, Levi lets you call the pace. You’re surprisingly mobile all things considered, and he just acts as your anchor as you make your way through the winding rounds of the Underground City.

“You have a key?”

He has to force himself not to snort. “No.”

The staff at Roxy’s will forgive him.

Or not — he doesn’t give a shit.

Gingerly placing you against the wall, he musters up the energy to use the strength of his short but mighty legs. Levi kicks the wooden door with gusto, waiting a moment for the noise to dissipate, before grabbing you again to continue on.

Eventually he places you on a nearby chair and brushes off his hands, coated with sweat.

What the hell, Ackerman? Get your shit together. Now’s not the time to get nervous.

Especially over you.

God, not when he’s almost got you.

You’re too busy staring at the disjointed door to notice his expression soften when he’s staring at your face.

It’s so… pretty.

Why is it—

Wait.

“Oi.”

He snaps, and you blink and turn your chin back to him. All the air whooshes clear from his lungs. 

You’re worried. He can tell. 

“Eyes on me. They aren’t coming.”

“What makes you so sure?”

(God, he’s such an asshole.)

Choosing to ignore the question, Levi keeps himself busy by searching the cabinets in the room for the med packs he knows they keep here. Way too many wayward souls pass through. They always got some—

Ah.

There.

Turning on a heel, he eagerly brings the med kit and unfurls it, holding it to you.

You stare back, not moving.

(You don’t have a concussion, do you?!)

“What do you want me to—”

“Hold it, idiot,” he snips in his own minor panic. “I can’t do everything.”

Please let me fix my own mistakes, James.

Your hands uncurl like a clam, waiting for the med kit. Levi carefully places it in your hands and takes what he needs.

“I don’t understand,” you murmur. “Why are you doing this?”

Taking a cloth, he douses it with antiseptic and presses it ever so gently on your skin. 

You don’t even flinch.

“Levi.”

Time freezes.

His gray eyes meet yours, and suddenly he forgets to breathe.

You remember.

He never told you, but —

He’s pretty sure Kenny may have said it back at this godforsaken fucking bar.

Should he tell you he remembers you, too?

(You never told him your name. He’ll show all of his cards in one fell swoop.)

“Does it matter?” he gruffly responds, pressing the cloth to your cheek.

“Yes.”

“Why?”

“Because it’s harder to help than to ignore.”

“Kind of like giving bread to a strange kid, right?” 

Shit.

Levi blurts before he can take it back.

This wasn’t how he thought this would go.

Banter here and there, maybe, but—

“I don’t know,” you finally answer. “I’m not a saint for giving you food.”

Of course you’re not.

Saint James, the patron deity that hasn’t left his mind since.

Levi’s nostrils flare as he dips lower, too afraid to touch your torso. “I could have killed you — broken?”

“Bruised,” you reply. “I’ve felt broken before.”

“Positive?” 

“Yes. And I was trying to kill you back then, too. It wasn’t our fault.”

Were you?

Trying to kill him?

Makes sense, with how hard you went at him. It was the only match he felt nervous in.

“I wasn’t trying to,” Levi woefully answers.

“But you could have.”

His fingers pause for a fraction of a second. “Yeah,” he laments. “I could have.”

Just like tonight.

And just like every night after this, if you tell him yes to his bullshit plans.

“I thought maybe something happened to you,” you begin. “I never saw you on the circuit again, so I thought—”

“That was the first and only time I fought in that nasty shit.”

He pushes back his own fears and tips your chin upward. You easily obey.

“...so you weren't sold into it?”

Shit, was she? Too preoccupied by the feeling of how soft your skin is, Levi shakes his head.

“I was your only fight?”

“Technically,” he says.

“So then why were you—”

“Practice, in case I ever met someone who needed to kill me for quick cash.”

“That's a morbid reason. You were just a kid.”

“So were you, but for some reason you’re still in it.”

Gritting his teeth, he knows his temper is getting the best of him. It’s better to stay neutral in these types of talks but you… you’re so nonchalant about something so dire.

You could die.

Hell, he’s spent week after week hoping to hear your name so he’d hear you’re still alive.

Choosing to let that go, he drops his hands away from your face and flexes his fingers.

“Good news: you look like shit, but you’re not in deep shit. I can’t do anything about your ribs, but your face should be fine. You have a bad habit of leaning into your hits.”

It’s true. It’s like she likes getting hurt, as if it fuels her own rage.

A strategy, sure, but a shit one at that.

“Excuse me?” you growl. “What do you mean, I have a bad habit?”

Levi can’t help but give you a look. “Did those shitheads make you hard of hearing, too?”

“No, shithead," you mock right back and it’s actually… impressive. You keep up. It does something weird and unenjoyable to his stomach. “I don't lean into them."

“Yes, you do.”

“What, so you’ve watched my fights?”

Ah, shit.

Found out, yet again.

(Great job, Ackerman.)

“I watch fights. Not just yours,” Levi quickly retorts. “You're not special, so get your head out of your ass.”

“Oh fuck you, man.”

Damn, you really do speak his language.

Don’t smile, don’t smile, don’t—

And you don’t give up, either. “Leaning into them makes an opponent feel like they have the upper hand. Let them hit, then you strike.”

“It’s a shit strategy.”

“I’m smaller than a lot of my opponents.”

“So?"

“So? Coming out to a fight like you own the place puts a target on your back.”

Right.

Self-preservation, a tactic often used by the pimps who bring these poor kids to the rings. It’s a loophole to make sure your fighters don’t know their own worth so they can’t wail on you.

Kenny told him that.

Levi wishes he could have told her, too.

“Did your Mom teach you that?” he flatly responds.

Your nostrils flare. “Maybe she did, but your Dad sure as hell forgot to teach you manners.”

He snaps faster than he means to. “He wasn’t my father.” 

A beat passes, and his shoulders slump. 

“And you’re a better fighter than that,” he softens, exasperated. “Making yourself look weak is a shitty strategy for someone who can't land a punch, let alone someone who can. You take the punches because you damn well know you're better than every opponent they match you with. If you didn’t play the theatrics, then those idiots would all be dead in minutes.”

When you don’t spit in his face, he gently takes a step forward. Then another.

“I met you three years ago. I thought by now you would've found a way out." 

But you need help. 

This is his return payment. This is all he can offer in this shitstain of a city.

“Do you want out?” Your eyes widen, like he’s told you he’s secretly the king of the Walls. His tongue gently darts between his dried lips. “...if I had a way to get you out, would you take it?”

“...I don’t have a way out.”

“You do.”

“I don’t,” you croak, and it breaks his heart. “I’ve tried. You know people in the circuits—”

“You have a way out."

“Levi—”

“James.”

In defeat, he calls to you — your name, that name everyone else calls you.

All of his cards are on the table.

He can’t take this back. 

“This isn’t a charity hand out. We need a fighter.”

“Who the hell is we?”

“Furlan Church and myself.”

“Furlan fucking Church? That’s where you ended up after all this time, with that idiot?”

Levi blinks.

(Wait, what’s wrong with Furlan?)

Nevermind — he’ll ask later. He has a mission here.

“If you stay in the circuits, then you will die,” Levi finally states. “That bitch has been trying to put you in the ground for years. Do you really want her to win?”

Please say no.

Please listen to me.

Except you stagger backwards, and he’s terrified that somehow he’s botched this pitch. That somehow you wouldn’t be interested in a team—

“Wait — did you send those guys after me?”

Oh.

Shit.

“The three in the alleyway,” you continue. “They attacked me after the fight. It was really convenient of you to find me in the nick of time. So was that one of his initiation stunts?”

He wants to swear he was going to tell you, but that would sound like a cheap lie.

He wants to promise this wasn’t what he wanted, but that would sound like a patronizing lie.

“Dirty trick,” you growl and turn away, and worries seizes his heart.

“We need muscle for our next heist,” he quickly states, firming up his voice. “You would get a cut. You would have a permanent place to sleep. You would have routine meals, day and night."

You don’t turn to him. “I’d be selling myself for one contract to another.”

Levi shakes his head wildly, but you don’t see it. “You're free to leave whenever you want. If this doesn't work out in a week? Fine, then you can go. But if you do this, then you would never have to see that woman’s face again.”

“She’d find me.”

“Not if I have anything to say about it,” he swears.

No, he wants to say. I’ll burn this city to the ground if she so much as tries it. I owe you.

“You would be protected with me.” 

But it isn’t just him.

You had a visceral reaction about Furlan. He has to be honest.

"With us."

Finally you turn back to him, and he’s woefully hopeful once more.

“Levi…”

The way you say his name…

Shit, he could hear you say his name like that every hour of every goddamn day if you’d just say yes to this deal he’s offering.

"You'll be paid,” he adds.

"I don't give a shit about pay,” you retort. “I have no money to my name as it is. Your... proposition just sounds too good to be true, that's all."

He needs more incentive.

He needs you to say yes.

"What do you need to be convinced?” he pleads, but it comes out monotone. “We sent our three best brawn and you cleared them in minutes. You can see why we'd want you."

"And if I say no?"

Fear seizes every cell of his body. You stare at him like he’s the enemy.

“Are you two going to keep sending people after me?”

(Would he finally stop searching for you?)

Swallowing, Levi knows he cannot keep you.

He barely knows you.

He just has a feeling he needs to.

“No,” he promises. “I'd let you live your life. This isn't an intimidation tactic. You would never hear from me again.”

And he means it.

He’ll give you anything for nothing.

It’s some kind of sickness he hasn’t quite recovered from since he was small.

Something about you has just infected his veins faster than the plague.

You turn your gaze to the door, and his face falls.

What can he do?

How can he convince you?

Your name exits his mouth in a fractured plea. “James—”

“I’m in.” 

Wait.

Did he hear that right?

You turn back to him with determination, chin lifted and shoulders squared. 

He can’t help but stare at you with a mixture of relief and admiration. 

Levi wonders if you notice. If you know, just how much you’ve been on his mind.

“I’m in,” you repeat. “I’ll go where you go.”

(And we'll never look back.)

[snk-smartpass]

TEXT Vol. 04 Connie’s Operation Proposal

Sometimes during training, one has no choice but to use their head. At times, this means having to write many words. In logical order, at that…

[Supplie Requasition

Bread: A bunch

Potatos: Around 5 boxes?

Milk: Not spoiled

Blades: Enough to attack Titans

Gas: A good amount]

“Start over.”

The instructor thrust Connie’s strategy to proposal back at him after little more than a glance. Dejected, he took the page.

••••••

“…How do you even begin to teach an idiot like this?”

“Forget about what he should be writing. I don’t even think he knows how to count supplies…”

Connie’s corpsmates had a good laugh at the document Connie wrote having summoned up all his brainpower. This wasn’t funny to him.

“I can pass the practical exams fine! Making it to the top of the class might even be realistic if it wasn’t for these tests where you have to write stuff…”

“Guess that means we don’t have a good reason to bother teaching you. The fewer competitors we have, the better.”

The other recruits may have been his corpsmates, but they were also his rivals, all competing for top marks. Connie’s desperate plea had backfired.

“C’mon! You can’t abandon me like this!

His fellow recruits laughed and ignored him as they returned to the barracks.

••••••

Two people happened to pass by Connie as he studied alone in the cafeteria. It was Reiner and Marco, who had just been helping the instructor with something. Two recruits with not only high practical marks, but top grades in the classroom too.

“Connie… You’re still studying?”

“It feels like they’re gonna send me back to my village if I keep getting these bad grades… I have to…”

Becoming a soldier was an important goal for Connie, someone who’d always been looked down upon as stupid. No matter how much trouble he had with something, he needed to get it done. His mother would surely be happy, if he finished with top marks this way. After Connie explained his situation to them, Reiner patted him on the shoulder.

“You understand what materials are required. All you need is to take your time with the numbers and be specific as you put them down. It’s fine if you write it in your own words.”

“You should also be more careful about your handwriting. Write it in a legible way, one that gets across just how much you need the materials.”

“Marco, Reiner… You guys are really kind.”

The two gave him words of encouragement, and Connie began again on his rejected document having processed their advice in his own way.

••••••

[Supply Requasition

Bread: Three days worth for five people

Potatoes: See above

Milk: See above. Fresh

Blades: Half a horse cart’s worth

Gas: Half a horse cart’s worth]

“…Looks fine.”

Through his corpsmates had insulted his document, it was ultimately accepted. Not only that, the instructor put it up in a place for everyone to see and learn from.

“What you need in a chaotic situation isn’t beautiful prose, it’s to write in a way that gives any reader an easy and accurate understanding of the current conditions. The words used by Recruit Springer in his requisition may be crude, but they show a proper understanding of the minimum needed by the squads that will be carrying out the operation they’ve been given. One could say that this sets an example of sorts, given that a soldier’s duty is to always be on the front lines.”

“Heh… So I am a genius.”

Frankly speaking, Connie only understood the part when the instructor said his work “sets an example.” Still, his corpsmates seemed to view him in a new light now. He decided he’d be as diligent as possible in his coursework, all in the hope that he’d get to experience this feeling again.

••••••

SOURCE: Attack on Titan: Short Stories 3

TRANSLATION: Ko Ransom

[missadacackle]

Ada and Agatha's Birthscroll

Okay, so I do not know if this has been done before, but I was overstimulated this morning and needed something to focus on and after a lot of puzzling, I believe it took me about three hours I came down to the following.

(it's a lot of reading and I'll try to keep it as clear as possible)

Lets just start off with date and time of birth, from Ada and Agatha.

What I managed to figure out is that the scroll says

Agatha Cackle was born at [time]

Ada Cackle was born at [time]

to Alma Cackle

I'm not sure if the scroll says "on" or "Date" both could be possible, and is followed by "Tuesday/Thursday 27th December 19.."

I will get back to whether it's Tuesday or Thursday in a moment, but first the year.

In s1e10, The Mists of Time, Ethel says "What if I have to spend the next fifty years with you." and Ada and Agatha are in this episode most likely around the age of 11/12. The oldest they could be would be 15 as in s4 Maud has a statement that I cannot quote right now, but to which we can assume that Cackle's has 5 years, in which the 5th is exam year.

If we calculate from 2017 when The first season of the Worst Witch was filmed, does that mean they were born somewhere between 1950 and 1960.

After quick research I found out that only times the 27th of December, in the decade between 1950 and 1960, fell on a Tuesday or Thursday were in 1955 (a Tuesday) and in 1956 (a Thursday).

And then if we assume that Ada and Agatha were in the mists of time Episode 11 years old, they would be 61 in 2017, which comes down that their date of birth is on Thursday, December 27th 1956

This means Ada and Agatha are both Capricorns.

Next I tried to figure out what time Ada and Agatha exactly were born

In the picture, zooming in a little, the first number after Agatha's name seems to be a five.

Okay, so they're born at 5AM (in the U.K they use the 24 hour clock, so if it'd be 5PM the scroll would say 17h)

Then comming to the exact minute.

The numbers aren't quite clear but we know from Agatha's quote "Mother only gave you the school because you're thirteen minutes older" that there must be a gap of 13 minutes. Agatha's numbers are most clear and it looks like 5:04 which would match with Ada's times, which look like 5:17.

(also I just noticed the scroll said "on" before the date)

To figure out what the ohter information was on the scroll I needed another picture.

Out of this picture I could make up that under "Birthscroll" it says "Twin Witches"

Together with the other two pictures used before it looked like underneath that is writen "Black Crow" + something I could not figure out yet.

The first captital letter looks like a D, followed by probably an o

This made me conclude that ithe words after Black Crow is probably Doctoral or Doctorate, something along the lines of that.

Under the Black Crow Doctoral/Doctorate we have a picture and from what I could see, it looks like an Baby/Angel on either a cloud or something else similair. I could not get a clear view on what it was, nor could I find good referentical pictures so this is just a speculation.

Then before we have Agatha and Ada's name, something else is writen. After viewing different pictures and zooming in, I think it says "This certificate states that" or something similair to that, if we look at how much space it occupies on the scroll.

Now we nearly have the entire scroll

At the bottom the scroll states something and I could not figure out what exactly, though after doing enough puzzling I managed to figure out that the scroll says "In Witness Whereof" and further it's unreadable.

The stamp seems to be having two babies in it, and under the stamp there is a autograph, which of my guessing and after doing research to these birthcertificates must be from the register.

---

And then we have the entire scroll

Birth Scroll

Twin Witches

Black Crow Doctoral/Docorate

[picture of the baby/angel]

This certificate states that

Agatha Cackle was born at 5:04

and(?) Ada Cackle was born at 5:17

To Alma Cackle

On Thursday 27th December 1956

In Witness Whereof ....

---

Peculiar I find that only Alma's name is on the scroll. I tired to do my research to this, but I had a throbbing headache when trying to figure this out, so with that research I did not come very far.

I simply concluded that Ada and Agatha's father was already out of picture/had already passed away when the twins were born, but this information could be incorrect, so if anyone knows, please let me know,

---

I dearly hope that this was useful. It's not very logical since that several episodes *after* Miss Cackle's birthday it's halloween.

But I feel like logic misses more often in The Worst Witch series.

Thank you for reading this all.

Some other pictures I used:

[frogsmulder]

would you do number 11 in joy for the the kiss asks and msr?

Hi anon! I was in a broody mood apparently because when I thought of joy I could only think of an ending where mulder and Scully got to have their family together sans conspiracy and abductions.

Miracle in Georgetown

Mulder has a very important conversation with Scully's baby bump; about 900 words; rated t; tagging @today-in-fic

Sunday 24th September, 11:04 am

Georgetown.

Scully is sitting comfortably amongst a throne of cushions on her coach. With her feet in fluffy slippers propped up on the coffee table, she casually flicks through a magazine her mother urged her to take a look at. A mug of ginger tea rests on her swollen belly that she takes sips from every few minutes while contemplating with a red pen all the cots, changing tables and mobiles they should have in the baby's room. She is still in her pyjamas and waffle weave dressing gown when the front door opens and Mulder announces he is back from his morning run and going for a shower. The smile on her face broadens bright and warm like the early autumn sun as she calls after him to not be too long.

What she doesn't expect is for him to learn over the back of the coach to kiss her forehead, mumbling “I wouldn't dream of it,” against her skin.

“Mulder,” she chuckles, reaching a hand up to play through his hair.

“Ew, Scully, no.” He playfully bats her hand away and straightens up. “I'm all sweaty.”

She hums, turning to face him, drinking in the sight of his shirt clinging to muscles. Morning-run-Mulder was one of her favourite Mulders, especially since she entered the second trimester. “Just the way I like you.”

“Uh huh? Maybe later.” Looking over her shoulder he points down at one mobile with giraffes on it. “This one–” he punctuates his choice with two taps to the glossy paper– “he'll love this one.”

She looks back at him with a raised eyebrow. “He, Mulder?”

“Yeah, didn't I tell you?” he smirks as he walks away. “I have a feeling.”

“Based on what?”

He bobs his head, considering. “Call it instinct–intuition.”

“And I'm supposed to believe you based on what– a hunch?” she teases.

“Come on, Scully! When have I ever been wrong?”

She scoffs and turns back to the magazine, circling the giraffes.

The pads of Mulder's footsteps soften as he walks away from her to their bedroom. She tracks his whereabouts mentally as he moves from the dresser to their bed to their ensuite, imagining him gradually becoming less clothed with each step. Wondering how she ever came to need him so desperately, she blushes into the tea and cradles her bump. It wasn't her fault that the Little One’s dad was so handsome and charming. Perhaps they wouldn't be in this situation if he wasn't.

She lays her head back against the coach and sighs. Listening to the sound of the water, she lets her eyes close and her mind drift.

When Scully hears the water turn off, she smiles, anticipating the return of his soft footsteps. She isn't disappointed when a few minutes later he appears in fresh sweatpants, no shirt, and towelling his hair. She has to bite the inside of her cheek at the sight of his hedgehog spikes. She pats the spot next to her on the coach.

“Good run?”

He hums and lays down, resting his head next to her hip and curling up to fit his legs on at the other end.

“I missed you.”

“I was barely gone an hour,” he half mumbles into the cushions.

“Still…” Her fingers find their way to weave into his damp hair.

He slides a hand up under her top and around her belly, thumb stroking softly back and forth against her skin. She can feel him grin and the air become charged as he lets his excitement grow.

“I still can't believe it. He's really in there.”

“And don't I know about it,” she chuffs.

“Hey little guy! What's it like in there?” He presses his ear to her belly as if they both had cups on a string to communicate. “Uh huh, uh huh. And you want more sausage and egg for breakfast. I'll pass that on.”

Mulder presses his lips to the swell of her stomach and holds them there, imparting his affection to them both.

“Now, bud,” The words tickle against her skin, the low hum of his voice both soothing and arousing. “There's a few things you need to know–man to man–that will save you in the big scary outside world. The first is that your mummy and daddy love you very much and we will always be here for you.” His voice breaks to a whisper and his eyes screw shut as he continues to rub her bump. It isn't long though before a grin erupts all the way from his lips to his eyes. “The second,” he continues with the same air of seriousness, “and this is the most important–there is only one basketball team and it's The Knicks.”

Scully rolls her eyes in good humour, but when she looks back down at him, she sees him staring up, eyes spilling over with adoration.

“You know I don't think I tell you this enough: just how amazing you are Scully.”

Her stomach drops to her feet at his utter honesty leaving her for once speechless. He props himself up on one arm, slowly crawling to an upright position. Taking her face in both his hands he kisses her languidly full of warmth and love. Pleasantly surprised, Scully swipes her tongue across his lower lip, inviting him to deepen their kiss. Yet he doesn't reciprocate, unable to when his smile clashes against her teeth.

“He's really in there,” he laughs incredulously.

She pulls away, seeing the sheer joy on his face. It warms her heart to know she's been able to give him the family he's always dreamed of. “He really is.”

[mostlysignssomeportents]

Elizabeth Warren on weaponized budget models

In yesterday’s essay, I broke down the new series from The American Prospect on the hidden ideology and power of budget models, these being complex statistical systems for weighing legislative proposals to determine if they are “economically sound.” The assumptions baked into these models are intensely political, and, like all dirty political actors, the model-makers claim they are “empirical” while their adversaries are “doing politics”:

https://pluralistic.net/2023/04/03/all-models-are-wrong/#some-are-useful

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

https://pluralistic.net/2023/04/04/cbo-says-no/#wealth-tax

Today edition of the Prospect continues the series with an essay by Elizabeth Warren, describing how her proposal for universal child care was defeated by the incoherent, deeply political assumptions of the Congressional Budget Office’s model, blocking an important and popular policy simply because “computer says no”:

https://prospect.org/economy/2023-04-04-policymakers-fight-losing-battle-models/

When the Build Back Better bill was first mooted, it included a promise of universal, federally funded childcare. This was excised from the final language of the bill (renamed the Bipartisan Infrastructure Bill), because the CBO said it would cost too much: $381.5b over ten years.

This is a completely nonsensical number, and the way that CBO arrived at it is illuminating, throwing the ideology of CBO modeling into stark relief. You see, the price tag for universal childcare did not include the benefits of childcare!

As Warren points out, this is not how investment works. No business leader assesses their capital expenditures without thinking of the dividends from those investments. No firm decides whether to open a new store by estimating the rent and salaries and ignoring the sales it will generate. Any business that operates on that basis would never invest in anything.

Universal childcare produces enormous dividends. Kids who have access to high-quality childcare grow up to do better in school, have less trouble with the law, and earn more as adults. Mothers who can’t afford childcare, meanwhile, absent themselves from the workforce during their prime earning years. Those mothers are less likely to advance professionally, have lower lifetime earnings, and a higher likelihood of retiring without adequate savings.

What’s more, universal childcare is the only way to guarantee a living wage to childcare workers, who are disproportionately likely to rely on public assistance, including SNAP (AKA food stamps) to make ends meet. These stressors affect childcare workers’ job performance, and also generate public expenditures to keep those workers fed and housed.

But the CBO model does not include any of those benefits. As Warren says, in a CBO assessment, giving every kid in America decent early childhood care and every childcare worker a living wage produces the same upside as putting $381.5 in a wheelbarrow and setting it on fire.

This is by design. Congress has decreed that CBO assessments can’t factor in secondary or indirect benefits from public expenditure. This is bonkers. Public investment is all secondary and indirect benefits — from highways to broadband, from parks to training programs, from education to Medicare. Excluding indirect benefits from assessments of public investments is a literal, obvious, unavoidable recipe for ending the most productive and beneficial forms of public spending.

It means that — for example — a CBO score for Meals on Wheels for seniors is not permitted to factor in the Medicare savings from seniors who can age in their homes with dignity, rather than being warehoused at tremendous public expense in nursing homes.

It means that the salaries of additional IRS enforcers can only be counted as an expense — Congress isn’t allowed to budget for the taxes that those enforcers will recover.

And, of course, it’s why we can’t have Medicare For All. Private health insurers treat care as an expense, with no upside. Denying you care and making you sicker isn’t a bug as far as the health insurance industry is concerned — it’s a feature. You bear the expense of the sickness, after all, and they realize the savings from denying you care.

But public health programs can factor in those health benefits and weigh them against health costs — in theory, at least. However, if the budgeting process refuses to factor in “indirect” benefits — like the fact that treating your chronic illness lets you continue to take care of your kids and frees your spouse from having to quit their job to look after you — then public health care costings become indistinguishable from the private sector’s for-profit death panels.

Child care is an absolute bargain. The US ranks 33d out of 37 rich countries in terms of public child care spending, and in so doing, it kneecaps innumerable mothers’ economic prospects. The upside of providing care is enormous, far outweighing the costs — so the CBO just doesn’t weigh them.

Warren is clear that there’s no way to make public child care compatible with CBO scoring. Even when she whittled away at her bill, excluding millions of families who would have benefited from the program, the CBO still flunked it.

The current budget-scoring system was designed for people who want to “shrink government until it fits in a bathtub, and then drown it.” It is designed so that we can’t have nice things. It is designed so that the computer always says no.

Warren calls for revisions to the CBO model, to factor in those indirect benefits that are central to public spending. She also calls for greater diversity in CBO oversight, currently managed by a board of 20 economists and only two non-economists — and the majority of the economists got their PhDs from the same program and all hew to the same orthodoxy.

For all its pretense of objectivity, modeling is a subjective, interpretive discipline. If all your modelers are steeped in a single school, they will incinerate the uncertainty and caveats that should be integrated into every modeler’s conclusions, the humility that comes from working with irreducible uncertainty.

Finally, Warren reminds us that there are values that are worthy of consideration, beyond a dollars-and-cents assessment. Even though programs like child care pay for themselves, that’s not the only reason to favor them — to demand them. Child care creates “an America in which everyone has opportunities — and ‘everyone’ includes mamas.” Child care is “an investment in care workers, treating them with respect for the hard work they do.”

The CBO’s assassination of universal child care is exceptional only because it was a public knifing. As David Dayen and Rakeen Mabud wrote in their piece yesterday, nearly all of the CBO’s dirty work is done in the dark, before a policy is floated to the public:

https://prospect.org/economy/2023-04-03-hidden-in-plain-sight/

The entire constellation of political possibility has been blotted out by the CBO, so that when we gaze up at the sky, we can only see a few sickly stars — weak economic nudges like pricing pollution, and not the glittering possibilities of banning it. We see the faint hope of “bending the cost-curve” on health care, and not the fierce light of simply providing care.

We can do politics. We have done it before. Every park and every highway, our libraries and our schools, our ports and our public universities — these were created by people no smarter than us. They didn’t rely on a lost art to do their work. We know how they did it. We know what’s stopping us from doing it again. And we know what to do about it.

Have you ever wanted to say thank you for these posts? Here’s how you can: I’m kickstarting the audiobook for my next novel, a post-cyberpunk anti-finance finance thriller about Silicon Valley scams called Red Team Blues. Amazon’s Audible refuses to carry my audiobooks because they’re DRM free, but crowdfunding makes them possible.

[Image ID: A disembodied hand, floating in space. It holds a Univac mainframe computer. The computer is shooting some kind of glowing red rays that are zapping three US Capitol Buildings, suspended on hovering platforms. In the background, the word NO is emblazoned in a retrocomputing magnetic ink font, limned in red.]

[nhularin]

TUMBLR.COM

SYNOPSIS being a writer is hard, especially when you're a hardcore stan on tumblr.com. so when the legendary niki writer disappeared out of the blue, the readers were naturally heartbroken! but! what happens when their beloved nishirikithinker got revealed as THE yn of the hot new girl group?!

!! NIKI (rikiminaj) 05' liner, a rat, his number one bullying victim is sunoo (shouldve picked a weaker victim like jay), on stan twt, posted unreleased pictures of enhypen on a fan acc and the whole fandom went CRAZY! dancer, maknae!

!! HEESEUNG (parkchaeyoung1) 01' liner, in love with rose, like its concerning, has her as his desktop wallpaper and prays to mother chaeyoung before a match, jake is his discord kitten, vocalist, dancer!

!! JONGSAENG (jayyyy_park_en) 02' liner, considered exposing sunghoon to dispatch, not because hes dating but bc hes sick in his mind, jungwons number on supporter, vocalist!

!! JAKE (jakeperalta) 02' liner, reports accs for fun, got niki banned three times, loves b99 bc of andy (me too jake me too), unplugs hee's pc while he games, vocalist!

!! SUNGHOON (sungthathoon) 02' liner, questionable creature, wonyoung is sickkkk of him, gives fanservice to his damn members, leaves the gc for funsies, the members didnt add him back so hes all #alone, vocalist!

!! SUNOO (sunwhoah) 03' liner, loves causing drama, owns a fanpage for olivia and taylor swift, takes unflattering pics of niki and sends them to enhalab, vocalist and cutie!

!! JUNGWON (yanggarden) 04' liner, wishes he debuted in txt instead of enhypen, claims to be normal but beefs with moas on the tl, used to write jungkook fanfics on wattpad, leader, vocalist!

prev <- MASTERLIST -> next

TAGLIST open! @neighborhae @cha3w0n-hearts @misokei @avocarua @sayescomfortplace @luvistqrzzz @he4rtsforjihoon @jmluvclub @porcelain-moths @wonqr @hyhees @kjrcrz @ilurvriki @luvrgirlkumi @suvgs @cha0thicpisces @mitsukifilms @saintriots @wqsty @ggggghost @backintomykpopphaseagain @eumppattv @tiissue @miko1ly @lunavixia @byunrieu @leep0ems @mrchweeee

[julesofnature]

“One Autumn day I was in a park and I looked at a very small beautiful leaf, it’s color was almost red. It was barely hanging on the branch nearly ready to fall down. I spent a long time with it and I asked the leaf a number of questions. I found out the leaf had been a mother to the tree. We usually think that the tree is the mother and the leaves are just children but as I looked at the leaf I saw that the leaf is also a mother to the tree. The sap that the roots take up is only water and minerals, not sufficient to nourish the tree, so the tree distributes the sap to the leaves, and the leaves transform the rough sap into an elaborated sap with the help of the sun and air and then send it back to the tree for nourishment. Therefore leaves are also a mother to the tree…. I asked the leaf whether it was scared because it was autumn and the other leaves were falling. The leaf told me, “No. During the whole spring and summer I was very alive. I worked hard and helped nourish the tree, and much of me is in the tree. I AM NOT LIMITED by this form. I am the whole tree, and when I go back to the soil, I will continue to nourish the tree. As I leave this branch and float to the ground, I will wave to the tree and tell her, ‘I will see you again very soon…. And after a while I saw the leaf leave the branch and float down to the soil dancing joyfully. Because as it floated it saw itself already there in the tree. It was so happy. I have a lot to learn from the leaf because it is not afraid – it knew nothing can be born and nothing can die.” ~ Thich Nhat Hanh https://themuseinthemirror.com/2016/11/04/natures-wisdom-thich-nhat-hanh-on-autumn-leaves-life-death-continuation/

[nwjn-z]

candy hearts [smau]

[04]

Loneliness

No one likes being lonely.

Especially Y/N L/N

Growing up in a well off family obviously had its perks, but one of its downsides was the overwhelming loneliness.

With a father that was always busy, a mother who never cared for motherhood, and a younger brother who couldn’t care less about anything other than video games, Y/N was always so lonely.

Growing up, making friends was such a herculean effort for Y/N. Constantly fearing the judging eyes of her peers. The watchful gazes of others made her stomach churn with anxiety making her nauseous. Often avoiding eating in order to not vomit in the middle of class due to sheer anxiousness.

And moving to a whole knew town all by herself was not spared by these feelings. Everyday leading up to her move was more gruelling than the last.

“What made them think moving their teenage daughter to a knew town all by herself was a good idea?”, she thought.

The explanation of “You’re almost an adult Y/N you need to learn how to be an adult” didn’t help.

But when she arrived in this small, cozy little mountain town she was surprised by the warm welcome.

“And this is the cafeteria, but there’s also a patio with tables to eat as well” says Wendy Testaburger, the girl currently giving you a tour of your new school. She’s nice you think. A pretty, confident, and well adjusted girl, no wonder she’s student council president.

“Do you have any questions?” She asks you with a warm smile, “uhhh no” you say, “Well if you do you have any my number so text me anytime!”

She gives you a smile and you follow her out of the school after you get your schedule.

You get a text from Wendy asking if you want to meet her friend Bebe. Despite being nervous you agreed and got boba with them. Bebe was like Wendy except she was a lot more outgoing. Even though Bebe seemed like the type of person you would try and stay away from, for some reason you felt so safe with her.

She was so welcoming and kind, you almost thought she was faking it for the sake of Wendy but she was very genuine. They told you that you were already inducted into their friend group and wanted you to meet everyone else. You declined at first since you were nervous but with some pushing you said you would consider it.

Nonetheless, Wendy and Bebe promised that you had nothing to worry about and if you decided you wanted to meet the others Bebes house was always open to you.

Before you went to Bebes to hang out you had your first day at South Park High. The anxious pain in your stomach dropped once Wendy walked you to your 1st period. After you bid your good byes you walk in and someone immediately catches your eye, a red-headed boy with the prettiest curls you’ve ever seen.

He was staring out the window with a bored expression on his face, but suddenly he turned and made eye contact with you. Both of your faces become redder than the bouncy locks of his hair.

All you could think of at that moment was “How could somebody be so pretty?”

little did you know he was thinking the same thing.

masterlist

TAGLIST IS OPEN.

@c1rice , @cyberrmishh , @ja3s3sin4life , @lacunaanonymoused

[spacebeyonce]

Hello, I am Iman from Gaza City. I now live in a tent with me, my mother and my brothers. After our house was destroyed, my father lost his job. We live in very difficult circumstances, and because my parents are elderly, I decided to try to help them collect the price for coordination to leave Gaza. I hope you can help me even a little. You are our only hope. My campaign is documented by go-ghost, el-shab-hussien, and gaza-evecuation, it's number 311 Eman's family

https://www.gofundme.com/f/urgent-appealhelp-my-family-escape-death-in-gaza 🙏🙏🙏

$1,557 CAD/$30,000 as of 11/04/2024

5% raised