#pie is trying their best and what they’re doing is good for science

[overthinkingtaleblr]

Yeah, I honestly don't expect better X3. Most the ghost knowledge was formed on the spot and I can't fault that. (Aka I'm foaming at the mouth because I can't fix canon- he's not a poltergeist by any stretch of the definition, he's too corporal and single spirited-)- Poltertoast

Thank you for the further information, i love learning about this stuff!

A funny consequence of this is that, at least in my story, it revokes Maxwell of another solid thing he could be, which sucks bc he’s just as confused as PIE as to what the heck is going on with him. At some point i think they gave up and he stuck with the last labels he was given (including vengeful spirit until he got lectured by an actual vengeful spirit as to why he was Not a vengeful spirit At All)

Maxwell breaking into his file at PIE HQ trying to figure out what he has become like:

[deluluass]

hi

could yoy do please some yandere kuroo and kageyama headcanons? 💕

nsfw is welcomed 😊

My first headcanons 🤞🏽

Yandere! Kuroo Tetsuro

Content warnings: markers of a toxic/emotionally abusive relationship; dumbification; daddy kink; sex toy(s); mild public play/exhibitionism

😇SFW😇

This boy has a fascination for messy people.

And by "messy", I mean that Kuroo has a soft spot for those who put up some sort of front. A performative mask to hide their crumbling psyche.

Oh.

Those are his favorites. (Especially when they're not even aware that they’re hiding something.)

Maybe it's because they're so easy to manipulate? (Or perhaps it's a mild case of schadenfreude?)

It's the instigator in him.

He knows which buttons to push and at what time to exactly do it.

Kuroo lives for being that guy who causes a full blown fight by simply dropping a backhanded comment or two.

For being the final straw that eventually breaks the proverbial camel's back.

And then slipping back into the shadows to watch the Drama unfold.

So it's not unlikely for him to form an obsession for someone who's so emotionally vulnerable.

Someone who has the weight of the world on their shoulders; who has everything locked up inside to the point of bursting.

Because then it won't take much to have them falling apart and unraveling before him.

But he's also a caretaker, you know.

He's opportunistic and covertly callous and mischievous, yes.

But you've seen how much he tends to those close to him.

So when you do fall apart, you will do it in his arms.

He will take care of you.

He'll say everything you've always wanted to hear.

You're beautiful and wanted and loved and you don't have to be brave anymore.

Kuroo's here and he understands you.

From the barest changes in your inflection to your most subtle facial expression.

Other people won't catch it.

To Kuroo, though? Tell-tale signs that you're hiding your feelings again.

He understands you in a way that no else had; that no else cared to try.

And eventually that’ll be the very thing that you’ll hold onto.

Never mind that his every word has become an indisputable fact (when it shouldn’t be).

Never mind that the line between Kuroo just being a mindful boyfriend AND Kuroo disregarding your boundaries has become too blurry that it’s impossible to tell which is which.

Never mind that your entire world has narrowed down to just him and you.

Because all your friends have, one by one, made their way for the exit.

They tell you that they're so tired.

They've warned you- begged you, actually- to end this insidiously suffocating relationship.

"I know he's only been nice to you and to us, but there's just...something wrong about that guy," they say.

But until they pinpoint, exactly, what that "something wrong" is; and until you see it for yourself, you're sticking by his side.

Damn whatever people say.

So.

Kuroo's not the yandere who'd chain you up in his basement or something.

Not that he's above it, but because he doesn't really need to.

Not when he has you bound right where it really matters.

😈NSFW😈

Kuroo has perfected being a dom down to a Science.

He knows exactly when to be mean and hurtful and sweet and kind and giving to you.

Kuroo's very generous, methinks! But only if he believes you deserved it.

So you better prove that you earned it!!

He'll having you cumming and gushing into his hand if you pleaded just enough!!

Looked into his eyes all pouty and teary and pliant to all his wishes.

Very into treating you and talking to you like you're not capable of comprehending words.

Oh, darling. I know I'm hurting you. I know I am. But you like it, don't you? That's right. Fuck yeah, you do, you fucking slut.

That's because you're just a dumb little baby, aren't you? You'd be happy as long as daddy makes you cum?

And you'd nod and say yes so obediently as he pounds your little hole even though you can't hear him over the sound of your own moans.

ALSO!!!

HE IS A TEASE!!!!

A FUCKINGN!!!!!!!!! TEASE!!!!

Every seggsy time is edging time!!

Has a thing for slapping your ass until your cheeks are bruised and tender under his palms.

And for sticking a vibrator inside you while you're out in public.

Just to teach you a lesson whenever he feels like you're not learning enough.

"Do you want me to come back until you're ready?" the waiter droned, obviously suppressing the urge to roll his eyes when all you did was grip the napkin in front of you.

You couldn't even look at poor kid; couldn't even make out a sound. You're too busy stifling the tingling within your walls, prompting you to cross your legs beneath the table and squeeze your thighs together.

And Kuroo's just...scanning the menu. Sitting idly before you. He's resting his chin against his open palm, long fingers brushing under his nose, while you're practically grinding down the chair.

You feel yourself leak into the crotch of your underwear, sticky liquid squelching against the crack of your ass as the toy continued to vibrate, burning you up and melting your insides, the buzzing a white noise only you could hear.

His indifference was unflappable. Kuroo even managed to call out, "Excuse me. Sorry about that earlier. We're ready now," so smoothly despite your desperate attempts to catch his attention. Then, he recited a bunch of dishes that you didn’t have the appetite for. Like you’re not outright writhing and earning a few disconcerted looks from the table next to you.

All you wanted was for him to put an end to this. You've learned your lesson. You're not gonna disappoint him again.

Instead, you watched in agonizing fear as he reached for his pocket. And immediately, without a warning, you felt the toy shake violently inside you.

"Ah!" you cried, sharply folding your arms and legs, making the plates and utensils clink against each other as your wrists chafed against your hard nipples.

Your boyfriend halted, leaned closer, and looked at you in a convincing display of concern.

"Are you alright, babe?" he muttered, caressing your knee, his nails pressing down just a tad. Not too hard. Just enough for you to hiss in a heady mixture of pleasure and pain.

You managed a small, quivering "uh-huh" as you begged him with your eyes. Conveying as much message as you could.

"Daddy, I'll be good for you. I swear. I won't lie anymore. I won't make you angry. I won't do anything that you wouldn't be happy about. Everything I do from this moment on will be just for you, daddy. I promise, daddy-"

But Kuroo only huffed out, a small, faint grin tracing his lips as he turned back to the waiter and said, "One cream pie, please."

Yandere! Kageyama Tobio

Content warning(s): rape/noncon

😇SFW😇

Fourth wall break, if you will: thank you, anon, for putting these characters together because I Believe that they’re each other’s foils in terms of yandere-isms. And this is gonna be an interesting contrast to see (at least, I hope it would be).

So Kuroo’s all subdued mind games, right? Like, you have to do a whole routine of mental gymnastics if you want to dig deep and analyze how he had your head spinning. 

But Kageyama? 

Kageyama says fuck that.

Kageyama, genius though he is, is about as subtle as a metal bat to the head when it comes to his darling.

He has no qualms about tying you to his bed once the opportunity presents itself to him.

But it didn’t start out like that.

At first, perhaps Kageyama was just an aloof classmate whose entire life revolved around volleyball.

The one who couldn’t even take a time out of his day to hang out with the rest of the class on a weekend.

Though Kageyama has a knack for attracting hostility from other people, there comes a time (rare it may be) that it is offset by people who are sympathetic to his idiosyncrasies.

His darling falls under the latter.

That's what draws Kageyama to you.

Hearing stuff like "D'you know what they used to call him before? King!" and "King because he's an arrogant dickhead who thinks he's better than everyone" are not new to him.

But hearing these are: "Stop that. It's rude to talk behind a person's back."

"Kageyama's passionate about volleyball. More than anyone we've ever met. Ok so it's alienating for us! Whatever! But isn't it admirable that he's doing his best at a thing that he loves?"

Kageyama did not get it.

You're not his teammate.

You're not his..anything.

You had no cause to try and be nice to him and defend him and..understand him, really.

So the rest was history.

The beginning might have been awkward.

Every time he tried to talk to you, Kageyama, for some reason, always blurted out the wrong things.

But you didn't mind. You just liked being his friend.

And Kageyama liked having you by his side.

Kageyama liked it, especially, when you're in the sidelines and cheering him on. (This caused quite a ruckus in Karasuno.)

It should have been weird. Kageyama had not known anything else besides volleyball.

Your presence should’ve been that of a stranger encroaching on someone else’s property.

Somehow, though, you fitted in so perfectly.

Like you’re made to be there.

So he tells you: “You’re free, aren’t you? You should be watching me play by now” and “You should be waiting for me after class” and “Stop making excuses. You’re not tired. You can still drop by practice” 

You’ve tried to reason with him. (Even contemplated about ending your friendship.)

But it’s not like you’re ever gonna shake him off.

Besides, you know that he wouldn’t accept anything less than perfect.

😈NSFW😈

His darling was his first sexual experience. 

And like any beginner, Kageyama was pretty...uh..bad at it ngl.

Add that to the fact that he’s on the bigger side and your first with him wasn’t consensual.

At that time, all Kageyama knew was that he really, really wanted to touch you and kiss you and fuck you senseless until you acknowledge that there’s no running from him. 

Trust, though, that Kageyama will not settle for being bad or, heaven forbid, mediocre at it.

Nope.

Not. a. chance.

Doesn’t matter that you’ve spent the entire day fucking.

Kageyama will not rest- not let you rest, until he drags out a moan from you; until you’ve ruined the sheets with how much he’s made you cum; until he has you begging for more. 

Will experiment a lot.

Will test out how fast and hard he has to fuck you to get what kind of reaction he wants from you.

Very attentive even to your quietest gasp.

If you so much as show a sign that you’re finding whatever it is he’s doing to your body pleasurable- curl your toe or arch your back- Kageyama will amp it up to the point where you’re screaming.

He’ll have this haughty, shit-eating grin while doing it too.

“Yes, you can,” Kageyama growled. “Spread those legs and show me how you do it.”

You shook your head, your body protesting at the slight movement. You’re already on the verge of blacking out. And you don’t have to check the ticking wall clock to know that, by now, Kageyama, too, should be knocked out and dozing off beside you.

But he only grabbed your wrists, making you howl in pain as soon as he touched the cuts and bruises across the skin. Remnants of the nylon rope that bound them together not too long ago.

“Touch yourself,” he repeated.

Kageyama’s voice is a rasping noise to your ears, his hot breath causing goosebumps all over you as he pressed his lips against the shell.

“No-no more, Kag-Kageyama,” you forced yourself to say, though your throat was dry and aching from all your screeching. 

He clicked his tongue. 

You flinched.

And you didn’t think it possible for Kageyama to be more frightening than he already is. Until you’d done as he’d told and, like a wolf patiently waiting to pounce, Kageyama zeroed in on how you moved your hands, his own reaching for his cock.

He didn’t take his eyes off of you, groaning as you trembled and mewled under your featherlight touch. Kageyama stroked himself, grinding into his fist until pre-cum dripped from the head.

“That how you like it, huh,” he croaked.

Before you could even reach an orgasm, Kageyama had already pushed you on your back, mimicking the way you pleasured yourself. Only this time it was rougher, more unforgiving, and indifferent to your cries of “Stop! Stop it, I can’t- Enough, Kageyama!”

[absolutebl]

This Week in BL

Sept 2021 Wk 5

Being a highly subjective assessment of one tiny corner of the interwebs.

Ongoing Series - Thai

Don’t Say No Ep 9 (Line) - It’s my corny af hurt/comfort soap opera that I watch at 1.5x and skip all the sex scenes and Fiat crying, but I like it that way, so there. Yes I am one of those people who only eats the outside of the peanut M&Ms, why do you ask? Episode recaps here. 

Bite Me Ep 5 (Viu & Viki) - sometimes I feel like this show is skipping all the important bits, or having them occur off screen intentionally, like some ancient Greek play. Still, the depth of the feeling understood between the two leads is clearly transferred to us despite that. Are they dating? Sure seems that way. Without anything being actually said about it. It’s oddly magical. I talked a bit about the north/south divide and food as a love language with regards to kao soi in this post. 

7 Project Ep 5 The Breakup Zone (iQiYi & YouTube) - another het installment, so I skipped it. Nash. 

Ongoing Series - Not Thai

Peach of Time Ep 10 fin - A Korean BL (maybe not BL tho) featuring Thai talent that really went beyond a lot of tropes into interesting territory and allegory in a way only Korea does. I hope we get more collabs like this, perhaps happier than this one next time? RECOMMENDED only if you are prepared for The Sad. Because it is quite sad.  

x Friend or Lover (YouTube) Ep 6 - still waiting on the final of this Taiwanese indie series.  

Love is Science? (BL sub plot on Viki) Ep 14 (aired ep 15) - Taiwanese drama finally got subbed yesterday, so those of us who are waiting seem to be on a week’s delay. The BL couple actually has the most interesting story arc and the most unusual character growth. I’m enjoying how unpredictable these two are. Honestly, they could have gotten their own series with this much story - and now I really want that for after the baby comes. I’m a little sad we didn’t get the coming out in the skate park sequence (LOOK I love coming out drama, especially with sporty friends, it’s a THING), but I also get why the writers are doing what they are with these boys. And the actors sure can handle it. Taiwan at it’s finest.  

Love Is the series (YouTube) Ep 5 - continues to be fine for a V-BL but not all that actually good. 

See You After Quarantine? (Viki) Ep 6, 7 - Taiwanese gameboys with Japanese talent stuck in, what more could we ask? AND THEN they gave us some *thirsty boi* action, great kisses, and charmed the pants off... well... everyone. Taiwan, we don’t deserve you. Honestly, you spoil us. Turns out Aaron Lai is the best wingman any gay Japanese man in quarantine could ask for. Everyone should be watching this. It’s utterly charming. 

The Tasty Florida (Viki) Ep 3 & 4 - this Korean BL so fucking cute. Look it’s formless and too short but simultaneously aching and kinda special-sweet. But Korea has got to settle into something a bit longer for their BL for everyone’s sake. It’s time. Light On Me proved it was possible. I’m not asking for much, just 15 min+ of fresh content with at least a 10 ep arc. 

In Case You Missed It

Someone dropped K-BL movie cut of 2015′s The Lover series onto YouTube. The series was about 4 different couples all living in the same apartment complex, one of the 4 was a BL plot about a sunshine sweetie Japanese tourist who ends up roommates with a hot shy tsundere Korean boy. It’s 1.5 hours, proving Korea and stretch its BL when it wants to. 

Read more about it here. 

GOSSIP!

Rumors of OhmFluke to star in new Thai BL Oh! My Sunshine Night. It’s from Newsinfinity Entertainment who announced the casting and showed the couple in workshops. This is this (small) production house’s first BL and they aim to “appeal to to general audiences* with a “broader view of BL that everyone will watch.” Which is code for LOW heat, light gay, soft boys. If this happens I think we can expect this to be Thailand doing Korean-style BL. 

* GENERAL AUDIENCE? Let’s be clear no piece of media will EVER appeal to everyone. Here is the USA “general audience” is code for “families with socially conservative values and children who are still minors” AKA what used to be prime time TV watchers AKA suburbia. 

 The concept is analytically old fashioned and so fractured at this juncture (socially economically spatially politically) that “general audience” is actually impossible to target and it doesn’t really exist. But try telling that to the publicity department. 

We also call this the “Disney live action demo.” (Think Pirates of the Caribbean.) I occasionally refer to them as “the Simpsons.” And they’re about as realistic. All that to say I am VERY suspicious of Oh! My Sunshine Night‘s production house. 

To My Star does seem to be getting a second season, same director, same mains. Korea is much better about executing on its promises than Thailand, but until I see proof of filming or an honest trailer, my favorite boys are staying in the gossip section. I don’t wanna get my hopes up. (Honestly now, how many of you also want an alt reality with these two as a couple but Kim Kang Min playing his long suffering cardiologist intern character from Hospital Playlist? Just me?) 

I reported on Unforgotten Night a while ago. It seems to have been fully cast now, I still think the publicity stills make it look like a joke. But with this line-up I guess it’s even more of an alt answer to KinnPorsche. 

You know that thing that happens in media when suddenly we get multiples of the same style of movie or show at once? It’s now happening with BL. Love triangles. Restaurants. And now mafia. 

Cutie Pie (our arranged marriage Thai BL staring Zee) dropped some wardrobe fitting photo ops. Also... fancy pants sexy suits that fit, so that’s exciting. 

Starting Soon

My Mate Match from Starhunter should be starting on Line TV next Saturday. Usually, Line has subs relatively quickly and is available internationally. However the fact that the trailer is not subbed and the show is not listed on Line’s site has me nervous. No idea on length of run either. 

Starhunter studio doesn’t have a great track record in general for narrative arcs and this one is not based on a y-novel so could get waffly. This is a roommates love triangle BL about a boy who is looking for one roommate and ends up with two vying for his home and his heart. Stars Jet as the uke lead which I’m pretty happy about as he’s got great comedic timing and is accustomed to BL. He’s opposite two friends/co-actors from Gen Y and other projects, so we know they’re comfortable with each other. They could do great things... if they get a decent script. 

Next Week Looks Like This:

Some shows may be listed later than actual air date for International subs accessibility reasons.

Upcoming 2021 BL master post here.

Links to watch are provided when possible, ask in a comment if I missed something.

This week’s best moment?

[moonboykeith]

the vld crew in a cook off (ft. lotor & matt)

shiro

doesn't know what he's doing most of the time

if the kitchen isn't on fire after he's done he'll consider this a success

is using a concerning amount of mayonnaise.

he'll probably advise against trying his food

what?? the?? fuck?? is?? a?? zucchini??

keith

cuts vegetables with his dagger

is violating too many hygiene rules

he doesn't care if what he cooks is edible or not as long as he follows all the steps and finishes on time . basically treats it as an exam.

tried to cook instant ramen and serve it but hunk said it would be cheating.

tried to steal hunk's special seasoning (key word: tried)

when the fuck did god invent a purple cabbage?

lance

large proportions. and when i say large i mean he looks ready to feed 30 people.

using all the spices he can find.

his soup is just water with spice.

is practically dying but still manages to find time to make fun of keith.

went all the way to keith’s counter and spilled flour on his head to get his attention, almost got stabbed.

stole meat from shiro's counter when he wasn't looking

taste tested his food and had to take a break to drink milk and calm down the flame on his tongue.

refuses to use any vegetables because they're nasty.

pidge

"cooking is like chemistry. cooking is like chemistry. cooking is li- FUCK THIS SHIT I'M LEAVING."

tried to treat cooking like science ended up with a pie exploding in their face.

treats the cook off like the hunger games.

pushed keith into a wall and choke slammed lance to get to the pantry first.

does not know how to cut meat.

refuses to use tomato because "they're the nature's worst mistake."

wore a lab coat and safety goggles to the cook off, probably a good decision with the goggles but the lab coat is now horribly stained.

their work station looks like a mad scientist's lab, everyone is too scared to go in it's 10 m radius.

allura

slowly loosing her sanity

is trying her best to understand the human ways of cooking but what the fuck is an oven and how the fuck do you preheat it?

got the space mice to eavesdrop on hunk and cheated.

had to take a break to sit down and try not to cry.

got into a fistfight with pidge in the pantry.

trying to copy her friends but they seem to be doing worse.

hunk

is the very concerned judge and is like 90% sure that he's gonna get rushed to the ER by the end of this.

coran

wasn't allowed to participate due to health safety measures

still trying his best to support allura

matt

he's honestly just here to eat

participated due to peer pressure

spent most of his time in the pantry making himself a sandwich and eating it

stuck his foot out and made shiro trip and laughed maniacally for the next twenty minutes

his dish for the day is the leftovers of his sandwich

lotor

crashed the cooking competition for fun

is being pressurized by haggar n zarkon to not stain the name of the galra

has no idea of what the fuck humans eat so he's making a galra dish with whatever human vegetable that looks familiar

pretending to be gordon ramsay but cannot even make coffee

is very intimidated by pidge.

saw keith cutting vegetables with a dagger so he copied with his sword.

━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

tagging my brother and cooking teacher @cinnamontoastboi-jimothy :")

master, look what ive done.

[mldrgrl]

Broken Things 12/24

by: mldrgrl Rating: varies by chapter, rated R overall See Chapter 1 for summary and notes

Fort Worth is not the city that Boston is, but it’s working it’s way up.  It’s bustling and busy and the first time he’d taken Jesse and Jimmy with him, Mulder had feared he may lose the brothers to the excitement of it all.  He was pleased to find out the pair were more like him and preferred a slower pace and less crowds.  He doesn’t have to worry about them gambling or picking fights or looking for any other kind of trouble.

The demonstration they give and the training they provide to the postal service is a success.  The horses are installed in their new home and position as a delivery team and Mulder will be bringing eight horses back to the ranch to train as a set of two teams.  He celebrates the job well done by giving Jesse and Jimmy an early bonus and sending the two off to do some sightseeing.  Deciding he’d like to do a bit of shopping himself, he sets out from their hotel to the city center.

For the last few weeks, Mulder has been making a mental list of the things he’d like to get for Katherine.  He doesn’t care if she protests, he has a mind to spoil her, and she’ll just have to get accustomed to being spoiled.  His first stop is a book shop where he inquires after the most current science journals and texts.  While browsing the bookshelves, he also finds a copy of The Taming of the Shrew and purchases it for a laugh.

The next stop he makes is to a rather impressive three-story building called The Martin-Brown Co.  It advertises clothing, dry goods, and other notions, which is exactly what he’s after.  He buys ten yards of a wool fabric dyed a shade of blue that reminds him of her eyes, two pairs of boots using a template he secretly traced of Katherine’s shoes for size, several pairs of stockings, a new shawl, an overcoat, and the valise he promised.  Everything is to be wrapped and sent to his hotel.

The last stop he makes is to a jeweler.  He would give Katherine his mother’s ring, were it not for the fact that it currently resides in a safe deposit box in Boston.  Even if it were in his possession, he has a feeling that Katherine would consider it too lavish and perhaps she would be right.  Though beautifully made with several square-cut diamonds, a working ranch would not be the best place to wear such a ring.

He wants to get something to symbolize the marriage though, not just for her, but for himself.  A simple gold band is easy enough to find for his own finger, but it’s tougher to pick just the right ring for his wife.  A very nice salesman assists him in trying to find the perfect piece.

“I want it to be nice,” he tells the associate.  “She’d probably like something plain, but I still think it should at least have a stone in it.  I also don’t want her to fret over it getting in the way of the household chores.”

“I think I can help you with that,” the man says.  He pulls out a tray of nice-looking bands, diamonds of various shapes and sizes twinkling from all of them, but still none of them seem quite right.

He looks through four trays of rings and has it narrowed between a gold band with a row of very small diamonds and pearls or a silver band with three one carat diamonds, when another ring catches his eye.

“What’s that stone?” he asks the clerk.

“That’s a sapphire.  Would you like to see it?”

“Yes.”

The man takes the ring of the tray and hands it to Mulder.  He inspects it carefully.  It’s a gold band with three stones inset in a row of small squares, like patchwork almost.  The middle stone is the sapphire, flanked on either side by two diamonds.  

“What do you call this design?” Mulder asks.

“In the middle where the sapphire sits is called a pinched square mount.  On either side of that is what’s called a diamond mount on a geometric plaque.  On the shoulder here you’ll see there’s criss-cross etching.”

“I think this might be the one.”

“An excellent choice.”

“Let me just...let me just look at them one last time and give me a minute to consider.”

“Take your time, Sir.”

Mulder puts the ring down and looks over the trays again, focusing on the three main contenders.  He has doubts about the three diamonds and so just looks to the sapphire and the diamonds and pearls.

“What is this?” he asks, pointing to a different ring that he seems to have missed in his earlier inspection, focused as he was on finding the perfect stone.  “Are those hands?  Holding a heart?”

“Yes, Sir.  It’s a claddagh ring.  It’s Irish.”

“Irish?”

“Yes, I can’t say I know the origins, but you’ll note the inside is stamped with what this type of ring is meant to symbolize.”

Mulder turns the ring around to read the inscription.  “Love.  Friendship.  Loyalty.”

“We have this one as well, if that doesn’t suit you.”  The clerk pulls out yet another tray and the same design of the ring Mulder is holding is etched into the interior of the band with loops around the band that look like infinity rings.

Mulder is torn.  He’s leaning towards the sapphire because the stone is gorgeous, but this claddagh ring seems more suitable, even if it’s not as elegant or flashy.  He’s not the one that will be wearing the ring though, Katherine is.  And he tries to think about it from her perspective.  He could probably buy three or four of these claddagh rings for the same price as the sapphire, but the value of the simpler ring feels immeasurably greater.

“That’s the one I want,” Mulder tells the clerk, nodding to the etched silver claddagh ring the man is holding.

“Very well.”

“And the gold band as well.  What type of boxes do you have?”

“Right this way.”

Mulder follows the clerk to the other side of the store where there is a case of boxes on display.  He selects a black box, oval-shaped, made of leather.  There’s a small gold latch at the front and a gilded border on the top of the case.  The interior is standard velvet and satin.

After Mulder leaves the jewelry store he heads back to the hotel.  The desk clerk informs him his packages have arrived and been taken to his room.  He closes himself in the room and looks at the items that are neatly placed onto his bed.  He takes the ring box out of his pocket and opens it up to look at it.

Diana comes to mind.  All these items he’s purchased would seem paltry to her.  He was always happy to lavish her back when they were courting, but she was never satisfied.  There was no such thing as too much for Diana and nothing was ever good enough.  Katherine is different and he needs to remember that.  He fears that Katherine will see all of this and be cross with him.  The perfect simplicity of the ring in his hand makes him realize that there is more to loving someone than purchasing trinkets.

Money is no object to him.  The ranch does well, but it’s not the source of his income, it’s the source of his joy and passion.  He doesn’t know with absolute certainty, but from what he does know of her, he feels that Katherine gets her joy from learning new things and from stimulating conversation.  Out of all the items packaged up on his bed, what she will probably be the most grateful for are the four issues of a magazine called Science: An Illustrated Journal and one called The Popular Science Monthly.

The ring and the books aside, he tells himself that the items he’s purchased are practical.  He hasn’t gotten anything she can’t use and what wouldn’t be considered unnecessary, but that’s not really the point.  

Well, he isn’t going to take the items back, so he packs each one up into the new valise and thinks that maybe it’s a good thing that at the very least, everything fits nicely into the travel bag.  He keeps her ring in his pocket though, along with the little pouch that holds his band.  He doesn’t want to wear his quite yet.  Not until she can put it on his finger for him.

↭

Katherine is setting out items onto the table in the kitchen to make a pie.  Mulder and Jesse and Jimmy are due back the next day and she’d like to have something nice to welcome them home with.  She’s just sat down to start peeling apples when she hears Queenie bark.

Over the last month, she’s grown accustomed to the sounds of the ranch, and in particular, the way that Queenie herds her flock of sheep.  Her bark is usually quick and no-nonsense.  This bark that she hears now raises the hairs at the back of her neck.  This bark is more like a snarl.  A warning.

Katherine jumps up from the table and hurries to the back door.  She sees Queenie by the pens, crouched low and backing away from something slowly.  The dog growls and snaps as she lunges forward and then retreats again.  Initially, Katherine can’t spot the threat, but then she sees it, black as midnight and sleek, slinking around the side of the corner pen with caution, but without hesitation.  She’s heard there were panthers in these parts, but never seen one.

Melvin is running from the bunkhouse, waving his arms and hollering.  Richard is behind him with a pistol.  She doesn’t spot Trevor, but now is the time that he’s usually watering the animals so he must be out there somewhere, trapped where he is.

“My God,” Katherine whispers before turning and running to the other side of the dogtrot.

There are four rifles hung on pegs in the middle of the wall and a cartridge belt hanging alongside them.  Mulder had told her before not to touch the firearms.  They’re always loaded, he’d said, just in case.  Leave them be.  Of course, he probably assumed she had no idea how to use one.  She grabs the cartridge belt and swings it over her left shoulder and then pulls down one of the rifles and holds it crosswise against her stomach and pointed to the ground as she runs back to the door, cocking the lever as she goes.

Without much thought beyond eliminating the threat, Katherine stands positioned in the doorway, a good fifty to sixty yards from the pens.  Melvin is whistling and hooting, trying to get the enormous cat’s attention.  All the animals are agitated.  The goats and sheep are bleating and the hogs are grunting.  The chicks are fluttering in the coop and clucking like crazy.

“Stay back!” Melvin yells at her.

“Don’t move,” she yells back, raising the butt of the rifle to her shoulder.  She cocks her head and closes her right eye, lining the cat up in her sights.  She’s not in a good position to shoot to kill, but she can definitely incapacitate if she aims right.

She has to do it quick.  The panther is stalking Queenie quietly, not at all threatened by the barking dog.  It’s not close enough to lunge, but it’s getting there.  “God, help me,” Katherine mutters, and then cocks the hammer and squeezes the trigger.  The recoil causes the butt to slam into her shoulder, as anticipated.  She winces, but doesn’t take her eyes off the panther.  It screams seconds after the discharge, baring its teeth as one of its front arms collapses.  She hit it in the shoulder, just as she’d aimed to.

There’s no time to waste.  She reaches up and grabs a cartridge off the belt over her shoulder and shoves it into the ejection port.  It’s cocked and reloaded in under ten seconds, but it feels like eternity.  The panther is now on the defensive, limping backwards and screeching as Queenie barks and takes small lunges towards it.  A frothy and red saliva starts to drip from its mouth.

Katherine keeps the rifle at her shoulder and the panther in her sights as she steps sideways to get behind Queenie.  She prays as she moves that the dog keeps its distance and she prays that the panther doesn’t charge forward with a surge of adrenaline.  Worst case scenario, she shoots the dog before the panther.  Best case scenario, she only has to kill one living creature today.

Queenie snaps viscously at the injured panther and it hisses in response.  As it raises its head and bares its teeth, Katherine fires once more, hitting it in the jugular.  The panther goes down without a whimper.  Queenie is still barking and snapping as Katherine lowers the gun.  She walks to the dog and pulls her back by the scruff to hold her in place.

Melvin comes running.  He’s puffing and sweating by the time he reaches her and grabs hold of Queenie as well as the dog twists and yelps to be set free.  Richard walks to the panther and crouches low over it, inspecting it from all angles.

“Where’s Trevor?” Katherine asks.

“I ain’t seen him.”

“Trevor!” Katherine calls.

“Go on,” Melvin says.  “I got Queenie.”

Katherine stands and scans the pens.  The animals are still agitated, running to and fro and loudly voicing their anxiety.  She spots Trevor crouched low behind the hog trough, trembling.  She sets the rifle up against the fence and climbs over into the hog pen and kneels down beside Trevor.  It’s obvious he’s wet himself and she puts a hand on his back to soothe him.

“It’s alright,” she tells him.  “It’s over.”

“I didn’t know what to do,” he tells her.  His voice is shaking right along with the rest of him.

“You did exactly as you were supposed to do, you kept yourself safe.”

“I saw him come down from that hill back yonder and I tried hollerin’, but nothing came out.  And then Queenie started kicking up a fuss and all I could think was that I got to hide.”

“You did good, Trevor.  Queenie’s worked up, but she’s alright.  Who knows what that panther would’ve done if it had spotted you.”

“You shot ‘em.”

“Yes, I did.”

“Where’d you learn to shoot like that?”

“My father taught me, when I was small.”

“I ain’t ever had a father.”

“I know, sweetheart.”

“You wasn’t scared?”

“I was terribly scared.”

“But, you didn’t look scared.”

“I had the advantage of being near to the rifles, knowing they were loaded, and knowing how to shoot.  If I had been in your position, I would have done exactly as you did.”

“My hands don’t want to seem to quit shakin’.”

“That’s alright, it’ll stop soon enough.  Let’s get you up and you run on to the bunkhouse and clean yourself up, alright?”

“Yes, Ma���am.”

“You bring your clothes on over to the laundry basket when you’re done and I’ll get a load done tonight.”

“Sorry to be so much trouble.”

“No trouble at all, sweetheart.”

Katherine helps Trevor stand and keeps a hand on his back.  He’s taller than her by about half a foot, but he seems small in this moment.  He is careful climbing the fence, still weak with fear.  She climbs over after him and takes up the rifle.  The cartridge belt is laying in the dirt.  She hadn’t noticed it had slipped from her shoulder.  She picks that up as well and waits until Trevor has started to weave his way to the bunkhouse to go over to where Melvin and Richard are hovering over the dead panther.

“I put Queenie up in the barn and give her some hamburger,” Melvin says.  “She’ll calm herself in due time.”

“When this story gets told,” Katherine says, trying to sound as serious and authoritative as she can.  “I’d like you to please do me a favor and make it very clear that Trevor was trapped where he was.  I know how boys are and the last thing Trevor needs is to be shamed for being afraid of a panther.”

“I’ll see to it,” Melvin says.

“We best get rid of the carcass before any scavengers come sniffing around,” Richard says.

“I’m going to see about the pie I was fixing.”  She turns to walk away and then stops.  “I take no pride or glory in killing that panther.  I did what had to be done.”

“You done good,” Melvin tells her.  

Katherine nods and returns to the house.  She dusts off the cartridge belt and hangs it back on the nail beside the rifles.  She loads a cartridge into the chamber, leaves it half-cocked, and puts it back in its place.  

[fictionalabyss]

Protector : Questioned.

Pairing :   Dean x F!Reader, Alex (OC), Sam, Detective Baker (OC)

Word count : 1,463

Warnings : Time jump - little over 4 years after chapter 10. Illegal questioning of a minor.  Fear and anxiety of what's to come. Series TW : Domestic Abuse is a constant topic- be it mentioned, or actually happening.

Continuation of this series was commissioned by : @iflostreturntosteverogers​​

Part 11 of Protector.

Masterlist • Patreon • Ko-fi.

Alex sat at the table quietly, eyes downcast on his hands that were clasped in his lap. The offered glass of water on the table sat untouched.  He’d been silent since entering the room, not a word no matter what they said. They had been nice enough at the start, but they were getting angry. They were running out of time, he knew it, they knew it, hell, they knew he knew it.

“Look, kid, we know you know something. You aren’t stupid. You live with the guy, you work for him-”

“I work in a garage.” Alex finally spoke, though he still didn’t look up at the detective who was leaning on the table. “I work on cars for dumbasses who don’t know the ‘check engine’ light means to check your fucking engine.” He finally looked up. “That's all I know.”

“You work in their garage.”

“I work in a garage. I don’t know who owns it.” Alex shrugged, and that seemed to piss the detective off, he could tell by the way his jaw ticked.

“Yeah? And who got you that job?”

“I applied for it.” Alex dead panned. “I gave my resume to every garage in town, they just offered me better pay.” Alex shrugged. “If you know so much about me, then you know I've had a knack for cars and engineering for years. Want to know about my middle school science fair project?”

“You and Dean left the state a few weeks back-”

“Visiting schools. It’s why I work, to pay for college.”

“Why the extra muscle then?”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“You were accompanied by-” the detective flipped open the folder on the table. The first page had Dean’s mugshot and a list of information, but Alex barely got a look at it as the pages turned. “Sam Winchester, and one Ash ‘Dr Badass’ Miles.”

“An Alumni of the school showing me around.” Alex shrugged. “What's your point?”

“My point is, son, you’re in danger.” Alex laughed at that. “You think that’s funny? You live and work with the men who, we are convinced, killed your father.”

“Dean is my father.”

“Your real father.”

“My ‘real father’ beat the shit out of me and my mom and tried to kill us before disappearing. He’s a missing person that for some fucked up reason you’re still looking for.”

“Because we’re convinced that Dean had him killed.”

“Yeah? When I was 5, I was convinced that my dad was the best dad on the plant. Sometimes, people are just wrong.”  The door burst open, and Alex just smiled at the detective. “Time’s up.”

“Let’s go, Alex.”

“Ma’am-” The detective held out his hand to try and stop Alex from standing and leaving.

“You! You have some fucking nerve dragging a 17 year old boy in here.” You took a step closer, finger pointed at him. “You have no fucking right to ask him anything without a parent or a lawyer, and I know for a fact he asked for both when he walked into the station. So now, you’ll be hearing from my lawyer for harassing my son.”

“Your husband killed his father.” The detective countered. “Don’t you want justice?”

“If he’s dead, big fucking if, justice has been served. Leave my son alone. Out, Alex.”

Alex stood and gave the detective a polite smile. “Sorry, bud. You fucked up.”

“Alex!” You shot him a glare as he left the room, then turned that glare on the detective. “Stay away from my son.” you growled before turning on your heel and storming out.

Dean was standing next to the Impala when you both walked out. “You okay?” He asked, eyes on Alex.

“I’m fine, Dean. Really, I’m okay.” Alex smiled and opened the back door.

Dean cupped your face as you got close to him. “Are you okay?”

“They took him in for questioning.. For what? Why harass a teenage boy?”

“I don’t know, baby. Sammy’s buddy from Stanford is already flying in, he’s good.” You gave him a nod and he pressed his lips to your forehead, his eyes going behind you as the door opened and the detective stepped out. Dean’s jaw ticked, and you looked up at him. “Let’s go home.”

You turned and glanced back at the detective as Dean opened the passenger side door for you. You slid in, and Dean shut the door behind you. Your attention on the detective who stood watching the three of you with his arms crossed over his chest. “Where’s Abby?” Alex asked, pulling your attention back.

“At home, with Uncle Sam.” you answered as Dean pulled open the driver side door and slid in.

“When your mom called me in a panic, we both hauled ass to the house.” Dean added after his door had shut and he was starting up the engine. He didn’t talk again until he was well away from the curb. “What’d they want anyways? Why’d they grab you from school?”

Alex shrugged. “They were asking about you.”

“About me?” Dean glanced over as you looked at him with worry.

“Mhm.” Alex hummed, looking out the window. “They’re sure I know more than I let on about what you do, where you go and who you meet. They knew we went to Michigan and who with.”

“What’d you tell them?”

“Not much.” Alex shrugged. “That I don’t know shit, I work for the garage who offered to pay me the most and Michigan was a trip with my family to visit a college.” He glanced to the front seat at Dean, eyes meeting in the rear view. “The truth. Dude’s pretty convinced you're a killer, though, and that mom and I are in danger.”

Dean’s brow furrowed and he risked a glance behind him. His eyes were back on the road when he felt your hand on his lap, squeezing it. He chanced a glance your way to see the worried look on your face had deepened.

Dean pulled into the driveway, and Alex was the first out of the car. You slipped from the car next as he turned off the engine. He could see from the way you held yourself that something was bugging you. With a sigh, Dean exited the car.

“Baby,” Dean stopped you from going past him, his hands cupping your face. “What’s wrong? Alex is fine, he-”

“They’re saying you killed his father, they’re saying I should want justice for that. As if him being dead wouldn’t be justice for what happened to us.” you glanced up at Dean. “I don't want to know, I don’t care. I just- He said it in front of Alex. Who knows what else he said to him before we could get here..”

“They don’t have anything or they wouldn’t be harassing the kid. They’ve been doing this shit for years, a few too many bar fights and suddenly you’re the scum of the earth.” Dean half chuckled. “Anything they can slap us with, they will. I’m just sorry you guys are being dragged into it.”

“I don’t want to lose you, Dean.”

“You won't, baby, I promise.” He ducked his head so his lips could meet yours.

“Everything okay?” Sam asked from the doorway, and the kiss broke, your bottom lip trapped between your teeth as you pulled away from Dean.

“Go inside, baby. I’ll be in in a minute.” You nodded and headed in, slipping past Sam without a word. Dean motioned for Sam to come closer as he leaned against the Impala.

“What’d they pull the kid in for?”

“Us. More specifically me. Asked about the garage, the trip to Michigan, told the kid I killed his father.” Dean shrugged.

“Jesus Christ..” Sam was actually stunned by that last one. Sure, the families occasionally got harassed if someone got caught doing some rough shit, but never had a kid been grabbed from school and had shit thrown at them like that. “They’re getting ballsy..”

“When’s Brady getting here?”

“Uh- Tomorrow morning. His flight lands at like 7am, I think he said?”

“Thank fuck  you went to college, Sammy.” Dean pat his brother on the back. “Abby good?”

“Yeah, she was good.” Sam smiled. “Always is for me. How’s the wife?”

Dean sucked his teeth as he started towards the house, brother in tow. “Pregnant, pissed and scared, Sammy. And this time, it’s on me. Fuckin’ Baker.”

“Baker? The same asshole who tried to throw you in prison last time?”

“Shit, yeah eh?” Dean smiled. “I should send him a gift basket or a thank you card, he’s the reason I met her.” Dean stopped outside the door laughing. “Fuck, imagine that on his conscious?” Dean was still laughing as he entered his home, Sam shaking his head behind him.

*If you like this, please consider supporting my work*

Tagging :  Protector : @jaycc7983 @volleyballer519  @meganlpie  @mrs-dragneel-stark-solo  @londoncallingbutiwontpickup  @voltage-my2dlove​

Dean - @akshi8278​  @adoptdontshoppets​   @evyiione​ @karikatz12481​ @idksupernatural​

SPN -  @sandlee44  @just-another-busy-fangirl  @mrswhozeewhatsis   @deanandsamsbitch  @deans-baby-momma  @thebescht @67-chevy-baby @supraveng   @musiclovinchic93 @holyfuckloueh  @ksgeekgirl   @hobby27 @maddiepants  @roxyspearing @onethirstyunicorn    @fandom-princess-forevermore     @kalesrebellion   @deanwanddamons​

All tags - @sorenmarie87 @artemisthebadger @winchesterprincessbride @iflostreturntosteverogers @akfonkin​ @rebelminxy​ @foxyjwls007​ @onethirstyunicorn​ @shaelyn102​ @supernaturalenchanted​  @kazkingdom​   @babypink224221​  @emoryhemsworth​    @ilovefanfic86​  @pie-with-hunters​   @anaelsbrunette​ @lazinessisalliknow​  @feelmyroarrrr​  @letsdisneythings​   @cdwmtjb8​   @notyourtypicalrose​  @xostephanie​  @marvelmenmusicandroses @ilovedeanspie​ @defenderrosetyler​ @amandamdiehl​

[twstarchives]

Ace Trappola・Voice Lines

Additional Voice Lines: Dress-Up Groom Event Card

School Uniform - R

Unlock Card “Don’t drag in any kind of trouble again, alright? ‘Cause I’m not helping you out this time!”

Groovy “It’d get exhausting always being so serious about everything, wouldn’t it? You just gotta be efficient about things ♪”

Home Setting “Let’s take it nice and slow today!”

Home Transitions “Something’s always going on whenever I’m with you. Seriously, it doesn’t ever get boring.”

“Hm? I don’t really hate school. It’s not like I need it, though. Haha! If I didn’t go, I’d just have nothing to do.”

“Professor Crewel called me over when I ditched class duty today... He gets so intense when he’s scolding his students!”

Home Transition (Login Greeting) “Oh, you’re finally here. So what’re you doing right now? C’mon, pick something~”

Home Taps “It’s kinda nice that our outfits are already picked out for us everyday. If we got to wear casual clothes, we’d have to spend some time trying to put together an outfit.”

“My dreams for the future? Nope, don’t got any! Striving hard to achieve your dreams is so... bleurgh, I can’t do it. It’s just not my thing.”

“Yeah, yeah, what do you want with me this time? You’ve got some serious dedication to this whole prefect thing.”

“I’m glad our dorm color is red. I like red. It stands out, it’s stylish, and it fits me nicely, doesn’t it?”

“Alright, alright, stop pulling so hard; I can hear you just fine! ...So? What is it?”

PE Uniform - R

Unlock Card “I’m pretty confident about my reflexes. Wanna take a look at my magift skills?”

Groovy “You can tell just by looking at me that I’m the type who hates losing. Come do some intensive training with me!”

Home Setting “It’s not good for you to just be standing still like that!”

Home Transitions “I seriously can’t handle Coach Vargas. He’s so intense and conceited... It’s tiring just being around him.”

“I have a lot of fun in the basketball club. I get along well with upperclassmen from the other dorms too.”

“I think sports and magic are kinda similar. I mean, you’ve gotta put all your effort into both of them everyday.”

Home Transition (Login Greeting) “PE class is about to start soon. You’ll get left behind if you keep moving so slow~”

Home Taps “Did you already eat yet? If not, let’s go pick up something from the store. It’s boring being cooped up inside all the time.”

“No way. I don’t even have to ask; I can tell just by that face that whatever you have to say is something real troublesome. Don’t tell me.”

“I don’t wanna turn into some macho guy who’s totally ripped, so I can take it easy with my training.”

“Cater actually has pretty good reflexes. I should ask him for some Flying tips later.”

“Ahaha!! What do you want~? You keep poking me in the side over and over again!”

Lab Coat - SR

Unlock Card “Working together’s really important. ...So anyway, let’s do our best on this assignment!”

Groovy “It’s fine to slack off just a little. Just do your best not to get caught.”

Home Setting “What, you’ve got a question? Alright, you owe me one.”

Home Transitions “I saw Deuce in the library looking really serious about something. I guess he’s studying for our next test.”

“Hey, did you finish the homework? Let’s do it together if you haven’t yet. That way we can split the work and get it done faster.”

“Sometimes there are potions with effects that make you think ‘What would you even make that for?’ I’d never wanna drink one, though.”

Home Transition (Login Greeting) “They don’t call Night Raven a prestigious academy for nothing. I gotta study sometimes too or I’ll get behind.”

Home Transition (Groovy) “Why do you have so much motivation for your classes? Don’t tell me you’re actually planning on making Grim a great mage, or something?”

Home Taps “The Headmaster really shows up and vanishes at the most unexpected times. Yesterday it almost gave me a heart attack when I noticed he was sitting behind me.”

“Be careful if you come across any talking flowers in the Botanical Garden. People say they’re really mean.”

“Potions are so nasty. And yet in the Queen of Hearts’ country, they were supposed to have tasted like things like pies and juice...”

“What do they even do at the science club? Trey invited me to stop by earlier but it seemed boring so I said no.”

“Ah, I seriously can’t deal with intense people. Go do that kinda stuff with Deuce, not me!”

Home Tap (Groovy) “Have you gotten everything ready for our next experiment? I’m kinda worried about how slow you are.”

Ceremony Robes - SR

Unlock Card “Wearing these feels kinda... ah, don’t laugh at me! You’re not one to talk either!!”

Groovy “Hehe! I give off that prestigious Night Raven College! vibe, don’t I?”

Home Setting “Don’t cause any trouble today!”

Home Transitions “Hah... Why do the teachers have to talk for so long? It’s so boring. I wish they’d  wrap it up in three minutes flat.”

“What kinds of things do you guys have celebrations for where you come from? Do you celebrate Unbirthdays?”

“Before enrolling here, I thought these clothes looked so old-fashioned, but now I think they’re very fitting for a mage. Heheh.”

Home Transition (Login Greeting) “Oi, Prefect. Grim starts causing all the mischief he wants whenever you’re not here!”

Home Transition (Groovy) “Tada! I pulled a hedgehog out of my hood...! Wait, I messed it up. Magic tricks using living creatures are really hard.”

Home Taps “If you’re free, how about we go to the lounge? Well, the only thing I usually do there is play cards though.”

“Doesn’t this school have a serious lacking of entertainment?! There’s absolutely nowhere to have fun! What about a café? Or some live shows?!”

“My shoulders feel kinda stiff... I’m really not good at formal things.”

“I think my brother was even happier than my parents when they found out I was accepted here. He’s an alumni from the same dorm as me.”

“No, you can’t sleep right now! You were dozing off in class the other day and even I could tell from sitting behind you!”

Home Tap (Groovy) “Oh, perfect timing. Could we have a card game tournament at Ramshackle tonight? ...It’s fine, no one’ll find out!”

Dorm Uniform - SSR

Unlock Card “My winning trump card is the Ace of Hearts!”

“I’d rather not get all heated and serious about things. ...Hey, are you even listening?!”

Groovy “You want to come to Heartslabyul? Haha, we’ll always welcome you!”

Home Setting “Let’s hurry and get this done!”

Home Transitions “Wanna go to the Unbirthday Party together? I promise there’ll be a delicious tart. ...I can’t promise the Dorm Leader will be in a good mood, though.”

“I know a magic trick that can make multiple cards appear from just one. Wanna see?”

“Euegh... I ate too much pie and now I’m so full... Trey’s sweets are just so good; I couldn’t stop eating.”

Home Transition (Login Greeting) “Prefect-! Come help me take care of the hedgehogs we use for croquet!”

Home Transition (Groovy) “So? How do I look in my dorm uniform? Handsome? ...Er, complimenting me that much would just sound like a lie.”

Home Taps “I showed the Dorm Leader a card trick and it actually surprised him. That felt nice ♪”

“If I was put in a different dorm... mm, I can’t even picture it. I guess Heartslabyul just fits me the best.”

“The freshmen have four people per room. It’s crowded, but it’s always full of energy so it’s a lot of fun. You should come hang out sometime.”

“Red vests are part of both our school and dorm uniforms, but the ones we wear with our dorm uniforms also have a traditional pattern associated with the Queen of Hearts on them.”

“Hey, now even you are acting just like Grim does; stop it! This keeps getting more and more out of hand.”

Home Tap (Groovy) “I wish you were part of Heartslabyul too. You don’t get the thrill of wondering when your head’ll get chopped off anywhere else.”

Duo Magic Ace: “Oi, Deuce! You better not just drag me down!” Deuce: “You’re so full of yourself! Who do you think you’re talking to, Ace?!”

Birthday Celebration Outfit - SSR

This card was only obtainable during Ace’s birthday event (Sept 18 - Sept 25, 2020).

Login on Birthday “Hey Prefect, do you know what day it is today? It’s not an Unbirthday... It’s Ace’s birthday! Which means I’m the star of today. What should I do for it~?”

Unlock Card “Today I can have the first slice of cake without worrying about losing my head, right?”

“Hey, what’re you gonna get me for my birthday? Oh, if you’ve got no idea, a cherry pie would be nice~”

Groovy “Having a giant party isn’t as bad as I thought. Thanks for coming to celebrate too!”

Home Setting “This get-up’s so embarrassing! It’s screaming ‘Look at me!’ way too much.”

Home Transitions “This heart-shaped pin is reaaally sparkly. It’s kinda intense with how special! it looks.”

“When I was at my club earlier, the soles of my basketball shoes fell apart. Floyd has a good sense of style; maybe he’ll give some to me as a gift~”

“I don’t mind Cater posting pictures of me on Magicam... but I don’t know how to feel about him tagging it as ‘Acey’s Growth Record.’”

Home Transition (Login Greeting) “Sorry, but we can’t have an Unbirthday Party today. ‘Cause today’s my actual birthday!”

Home Transition (Groovy) “After the party, can I come over to Ramshackle? Let’s invite Jack and the others and play cards till it’s morning.”

Home Taps “When I was little, my older brother one time blew out the candles on my birthday cake. We got into huge fight after.”

“I’m only one year older now, but everyone’s making a huge celebration out of it... I’m not saying I hate it, though~”

“Deuce said he’d treat me to whatever pastry I want at the school store! Hahaha, let’s ask him for the most expensive one. You in?”

“My brother’s not the only one good at magic tricks in my family; my dad’s really good at them too. On our birthdays, he used to show us tricks using gift boxes.”

“Aghgh, I get it! We’re done saying ‘Yes, Happy Birthday!’ ...It’s kind of really embarrassing...”

Home Tap (Groovy) “I can ask you favors since it’s my special day today, can’t I? When you finish that assignment, come join the party!”

Duo Magic Ace: Ortho, wish me a big happy birthday! Ortho: Happy birthday, Ace Trappola!

Lv Up “Oh, this feels kinda nice!”

“Yay! Level up!”

“I gotta get even further ahead of everyone else.”

Max Lv Up “This feels incredible. Now that I’ve got this, it’ll probably be a lot easier for me to back up a certain someone who can’t use magic.”

Episode Lv Up “Ahaha! So these kinds of things can happen too. I always thought people like you would be the ones I’d get along the worst with, but I guess not! ...Just messing with you.”

Magic Lv Up “I could win against the Dorm Leader now that I’ve got this power, right? ...Oh, what I said just now is a secret, ‘kay?”

Limit Break “Whaaat? Aren’t you expecting too much from me? Well, alright. Guess I just should just work a little harder!”

Groovy “I’ll keep showing you more and more of my cool side, so look forward to that!”

Lesson Select “What class are you doing? Hurry up and pick. I’ll be sleeping straight through any one you pick anyway.”

“You’re so enthusiastic about this... Okay, okay! Stop pulling on me so hard!”

“Make sure to keep a close eye on Grim during class, alright, Prefect? He tried ditching earlier and the teacher got mad at him.”

Lesson Start “Let’s get this over with!”

Lesson End “It’s done~! Ahh, I’m tired.”

Battle Start “Okay~ I’ll make you all hit rock bottom!”

Battle End “Nothing to say about it. I won!”

Other

Profile Quote “Man, the Queen of Hearts is so cool! Nobody would obey a queen who’s just kind all the time, right?”

January 2020 Trailer “Ya better not be late! Or the scaaary queen will chop off your head!”

Countdown Poster “Stop daydreaming. Don’t you know you can get lost in the rose maze?”

Take His Hand “Let's head on over there!”

Player Birthday Wish “Eh? Was there something going on today? ...I’m just messing with you! It’s your birthday, right? Of course I remembered. Happy birthday, Prefect.”

Valentine’s Day Gift Letter (2021)

These letters were originally in English. I didn’t translate or edit them in any way. They came with official merch from Aniplex, and are not present in-game.

Hey you, Thanks for the present. But what’s up with the sudden gesture? Are you trying to apologize for something here? …JUST KIDDING! I actually need to talk to you about something, too. See you in class later!

[lillianofliterature]

marvel preferences || 1/?

this is the first of many preferences I will start writing over time. if you have any preference requests, send them in via my inbox! i’m not writing full fics for anyone right now but I would love to take requests for preferences! check my masterlist for lists of fandoms/characters. happy reading!

DO NOT REPOST.

p.s. loki’s will probably always be the longest. he’s my comfort character and precious soul who deserves the MOST.

if gifs not sourced, they were found on google, lmk if they’re yours!

(more below the cut-off)

what made them fall in love with you

Steve Rogers

Your smile. Steve never thought he could find comfort in another person after he woke up in a brand new world. He had lost everyone he had ever known and everything he had been familiar with all of his life. But there was something in your smile that took him right back to 1942, to rich blackberry pie in his mother’s icebox, to the melodies that would play over the static of his old radio, and the alluring feeling of being at home again. He thrived off of your smile - so much so that he could scarcely go a day without seeing it. 

Tony Stark 

Your sass. Tony thought Pepper was the only one who could keep up with the quick-witted nonsense that rolled of his tongue until you came onto the scene. You were not only just as sharp as he was and kept pace with his attitudes and references, but totally ruthless in your quips which even left him speechless on occasion. Life was never dull around you and he didn’t feel like he needed to try and sensor his remarks or his frequent rudeness - he knew you could understand the reason or the emotion behind it and often even find his sense of humor in all of it. When he had seen you roll your eyes for the first time mid-conversation, Tony knew he was in too deep - especially when he realized your reaction was aimed at Steve. 

Clint Barton

Your sense of humor. To anyone who really knew the famed archer, it was basic knowledge to know that Clint had an affinity for a good sense of humor - believing himself to have one of the best. When he had gotten to know you a little better, he was ecstatic to finally have someone to joke around with and not have to worry about poor timing or moody reactions. You were always willing to have a laugh, especially in the midst of a serious or daunting situation. You had your share of dad jokes, cheesy puns, borderline offensive nicknames for everyone on the team, and so many other quips that Clint thrived off of. He found himself eager to be around you whenever he could, ready to bounce his latest joke off of you and just enjoy your company.

Natasha Romanoff

Your leadership skills. Natasha had saught a sense of security all of her life, especially since she had turned her life around and joined S.H.I.E.L.D.’s forces. When you later joined the team, you were able to bring each Avenger together and help them through their many differences - even Tony and Steve. Even out in the chaos of a mission, you had the ability to wrangle the team and find a way through every unforeseen situation. You had established a strong definition of unity for the team, determined to keep everyone together, and she loved you for that. 

Bruce Banner

Your intelligence. Bruce loved the fact that he could carry on an intellectual conversation with someone who could keep up with him when he was in his zone. Whether it was science, technology, or just the elaborate store of vocabulary you kept under your belt, he adored every bit of it. You didn’t even need to know all that much about his field of work to seem genuinely interested in his passions and he loved entertaining your interests as well. 

Peter Parker

Your nerdiness. Peter couldn’t believe he had met a girl who was just as obsessed with Star Wars as he was. Sure, he wasn’t ignorant to the fact that girls could be nerds, but he had just never met one in person - at least not one as full of so many amazing qualities as you were. You were kind, funny, sharp-minded, and totally enthralled with anything to do with your fandoms, and never missed a beat when he used one of his many fandom-related references in day-to-day conversation. Not to mention you were downright beautiful. He enjoys nothing more than the hours he spends with you and Ned talking about movies, comics, and music, and especially the times you help them build their limited edition LEGO sets without a hint of judgement. You were something special. 

Scott

Your laugh. Scott couldn’t get enough of it. Since the first moment he had heard your real laughter, unkempt and wild, he had been finding ways to bring it out of you - which he succeeded at more times than not. There was something about the way that expression of joy left you breathless for air with little crinkles at the corners of your sparkling eyes. It was adorable. Being able to have that effect on you was one of the few things he could truly take pride in, and he would happily spend the rest of his life doing just that.

Heimdall

Your eyes. He is always careful to study a person’s eyes upon meeting them, knowing them to be the window to a person’s very soul; their innate being. When he looked into yours, he saw a mix starlight and wonderment. He could see from the very start that you had an honest soul - you sought no ill will upon anyone around you. You were good, passionate, and pure. You had captivated him with just a single glance and he found himself relentlessly drawn to you. 

Loki

The way you speak to him. Loki had spent a lifetime surrounded by voices fueled with negativity and condescension, apart from the voice of his mother. He had been the brunt of cruel jokes from the Warriors Three, blamed for his brother’s numerous misgivings as children, and forced to accept Odin’s distaste for him. When you came along, he had expected no different from you - but you proved him wrong. You spoke to him in a way no one, save his beloved mother, had ever spoken to him. 

You regarded him with respect as a noble, which most people had try to strip from him all of his life. Your kindness, which overflowed in abundance around him, warmed his soul with pleasure. Your tone was never anything less than sincere. Even when you grew frustrated with him, you were mindful to respect his triggers and could express your anger truthfully in love, without malice or hatred. When you laughed, you laughed with him, and not at him. Your compliments and endless affirmations of his worth gave him a since of residual positivity about himself. He found himself eager to see you and speak with you - he knew you would never dismiss him or abandon him. Because of you, he had begun to like himself as he was, not for what anyone told him he could never be.

Thor

Your compassion. Thor had known a great many people in his lifetime, noble and ordinary, and had yet to meet anyone with a heart as big as yours. You had seen him as more than just a stuck-up prince from the very beginning and had helped him see past himself and shed his arrogant scales. You never asked for anything more than simple kindess and in return, you gave your heart so fully to every cause. In many ways, you had taught him how to see with his heart and not so much his power or his royalty. You’d shown him how to see through the eyes of his people, and not just as their ruler. He wishes he could be as compassionate and selfess as you are. 

Brunnhilde  

Your combat skills. To say Valkyrie was impressed the day you slayed three Sakaar Imperials with one clean swing of your blade was an understatement. They had been looming in the distance, their weapons aimed for her head, as she fought of a hoard of junk hunters. The imperials had been out for her for a few weeks, ever since she had gained the special favor of the Grandmaster for her delivery of new gladiators or scum. Your swift decision to aide her saved her life. She hadn’t trusted the sword of anyone other than herself since the massacre of her fellow Valkyrie until she met you. She admired your skill and determined demeanor in a fight, as well as your ability to sense a sour situation. You had grown on her.

Peter Quill 

Your taste in music. Peter wasn’t used to having a receptive audience when it came to sharing his mix tapes with the Guardians. It took several weeks - for Drax, it took months - for them to begin to appreciate the songs he blasted through the sound system of the Milano. When you arrived on the scene, he was more than ecstatic to find your Zune hidden away in your things after Rocket, who had yet to trust you, had convinced him to search your bags for any incriminating evidence. It was loaded with many of the same songs he had spent his life memorizing and dancing to. From then on, after you got over the snooping through your things in secret, you and Peter would share your music. Whether it be oldies, new discoveries, or absurd alien songs that came through the radio frequencies, Peter couldn’t be happier to finally have someone who understood the power of music the way he did. 

[lilypixels]

...............all of them.....?

It took me an hr to do this....🥲💀

1. coffee mugs, teacups, wine glasses, water bottles, or soda cans?

Teacupsss

2. chocolate bars or lollipops?

Lollipops

3. bubblegum or cotton candy?

Uhhh cotton candy

4. how did your elementary school teachers describe you?

Probably quiet and smart lol I did my school work and was friendly with everyone so I was a favorite and heard all the nice things 🙈

5. do you prefer to drink soda from soda cans, soda bottles, plastic cups or glass cups?

I kinda like bottles more but like the glass ones with the caps that could slice your fingers-

6. pastel, boho, tomboy, preppy, goth, grunge, formal or sportswear?

I’m for all but sports lol

7. earbuds or headphones?

Earbuds

8. movies or tv shows?

Shows cause I’m the type to watch an hr long episode vs hr long movie idk why but I’m rarely in mood for them

12. name of your favorite playlist?

Drop the beat (ie songs that are upbeat and I like most)

13. lanyard or key ring?

Hmm...I guess lanyard?

14. favorite non-chocolate candy?

Skittles or twizzlers

15. favorite book you read as a school assignment?

I had lots I had to read in school but only ever finished a handful lol my favorite I think was maybe Macbeth? I would say Odyssey but I don’t think we read the full thing cause I remember being disappointed about something like that...

16. most comfortable position to sit in?

Sitting with my legs bent up in seat with me in some way

17. most frequently worn pair of shoes?

Converse and some nice but cheap sneakers from Walmart

18. ideal weather?

Not too hot, not too cold, mild like before/after a rain (most the time), idc if it’s raining or sunny but as long as temp is comfortable I’m fine

19. sleeping position?

On my side most often

20. preferred place to write (i.e., in a note book, on your laptop, sketchpad, post-it notes, etc.)?

Phone and notebook

21. obsession from childhood?

Oh gosh uhhh I guess my like of dolls maybe? Or obsession with anything ✨unexplained✨ like ghosts, aliens, cryptids, etc

22. role model?

Kim Namjoon lol just kidding (sorta)

23. strange habits?

Ok I know I have some and my friends would be more than happy to point them all out but hm let me think...idk if these count as habits but I’ll never place a mirror facing a bed (this is more superstitious I guess than habit,,,) I can’t stand my food touching, if I have a tray like in cafeteria I have a certain spot for everything and uh my mind just went blank-

24. favorite crystal?

Moonstone, lapis lazuli, and I feel obligated to say garnet cause it’s my birthstone

25. first song you remember hearing?

Circle of Life maybe who knows xD

26. favorite activity to do in warm weather?

Walk or clean,,I’m more active and about with warm/nice weather

27. favorite activity to do in cold weather?

...stay inside where it’s warm

28. five songs to describe you?

Not this again😭 uhhh idk you tell me ajdbd

29. best way to bond with you?

Indulge me when I go off about things I like or learn 😔✊ I know I’ll talk your ear off and I’m sorry but know I don’t often talk about these things with people so once I start it’s hard to stop,,and it makes me really happy when people do listen to me about these things and send me related items every so often or even look into it themselves to learn more 🥺

30. places that you find sacred?

For some reason this feels like a trick question...um cemeteries and anything with ages of history I guess

31. what outfit do you wear to kick ass and take names?

Oof do I really have a true outfit?? I have shoes for this which are just black platform sneakers I call stomping shoes

32. top five favorite vines?

I never,,,watched these,,,

33. most used phrase in your phone?

“Yes”...?

34. advertisements you have stuck in your head?

State Farm and McDonald’s, always

35. average time you fall asleep?

10-11...usually...

36. what is the first meme you remember ever seeing?

Uhhh that one with the ginger dude (I think it was someone’s yearbook photo??) I don’t remember much else about the meme but it was on ifunny, or whatever the app was, a lot

37. suitcase or duffel bag?

Suitcase

38. lemonade or tea?

Easy, tea

39. lemon cake or lemon meringue pie?

...neither

40. weirdest thing to ever happen at your school?

Dude these questions really testing my brain power here- for senior prank someone put cereal in some bathroom sinks I think

41. last person you texted?

My mom

42. jacket pockets or pants pockets?

I’m gonna say jacket since I wear those often

43. hoodie, leather jacket, cardigan, jean jacket or bomber jacket?

Hoodie or cardigan

45. which genre: sci-fi, fantasy or superhero?

Fantasy

46. most comfortable outfit to sleep in?

Usually whatever shirt I’m wearing that day and some pj/lounge pants 🤷

47. favorite type of cheese?

Mozzarella

48. if you were a fruit, what kind would you be?

I-what kind of question is this? How does one even answer this?

49. what saying or quote do you live by?

What comes around goes around lol (yes I’m a heavy believer of karma)

50. what made you laugh the hardest you ever have?

Lol who knows, probably something dumb me and my siblings were doing or something we watched cause there’s been plenty times of that xD

51. current stresses?

Homework vs free time e-e

52. favorite font?

I like the gothic looking ones but it’s usually not practical to use so idk

53. what is the current state of your hands?

My hands...? They’re fine ??

54. what did you learn from your first job?

How to care for babies and little kids, how to put on a diaper lol

56. favorite tradition?

I can’t remember a particular one off hand but I’m trying to start few new ones like decorating cookies for Halloween uwu

57. the three biggest struggles you’ve overcome?

Uhhhhh like personally or...? Cause we’ve overcome homelessness before, um finishing assignments idk😭 oh maybe bullying?? That’s all I can think of since I still struggle with a lot,,

58. four talents you’re proud of having?

Alright let’s do thisss: creativity (mostly in writing sense), I can bake/cook, I have amazing organization skills and many work places have used that lol (bonus is I don’t mind, I actually really enjoy it, very peaceful), surprisingly good balance all things considered, I’m a quick learner

59. if you were a video game character, what would your catchphrase be?

“I’m too tired for this.”

60. if you were a character in an anime, what kind of anime would you want it to be?

Good question good question🤔 I don’t think I’d last in any of them/have a terrible side character role so 💀

61. favorite line you heard from a book/movie/tv show/etc.?

“Life’s too short to hold grudges.”

62. seven characters you relate to?

Dude this is gonna get embarrassing I can feel it🤠

Itaru, Iori, Sogo, Belle, Simeon (obey me), Nozaki (he’s clueless about romance irl and doesn’t know when someone has a crush on him yet can write romance well enough and yeah it’s me lol), and uhh Swindler/Ordinary Person in Akudama Drive (still can’t believe no one really has names in that anime but the way she gets wrapped in everything felt like something that’d happen to me lol)

63. five songs that would play in your club?

Like nightclub...? I’m skipping this ajdbd

64. favorite website from your childhood?

Probably the Barbie site, me and my sister played all the dress up games almost daily istg

65. any permanent scars?

Appendectomy scars and then looks like I have one on a toe but it’s possible it still might heal...

66. favorite flower(s)?

Nightshade, foxglove, baby’s breath, bellflowers, roses

67. good luck charms?

I don’t think I have any...

68. worst flavor of any food or drink you’ve ever tried?

Lemon

69. a fun fact that you don’t know how you learned?

Let me think...I read something once about flowers having ears(?) but like not ear ears just something about having a part that picks up sound waves

70. left or right handed?

Right

71. least favorite pattern?

Lolll animal print I think

72. worst subject?

Physics...the worst science

74. at what pain level out of ten (1 through 10) do you have to be at before you take an advil or ibuprofen?

6...?

75. when did you lose your first tooth?

I don’t remember, it probably happened when i was 6. I do remember losing one of my front teeth during my birthday one year and I was happy since the tooth had been loose for some time xD

76. what’s your favorite potato food (i.e. tater tots, baked potatoes, fries, chips, etc.)?

Chips I guess or just like fried in skillet

77. best plant to grow on a windowsill?

A succulent probably

78. coffee from a gas station or sushi from a grocery store?

Neither ew

79. which looks better, your school id photo or your driver’s license photo?

They are both about equally terrible

80. earth tones or jewel tones?

Earth

81. fireflies or lightning bugs?

Fireflies

82. pc or console?

I am on pc side now

83. writing or drawing?

Writing

84. podcasts or talk radio?

Podcasts I guess

84. barbie or polly pocket?

Barbie

85. fairy tales or mythology?

Mythology, it’s too fun and chaotic lol

86. cookies or cupcakes?

Hm...cupcakes

87. your greatest fear?

Uh,,,I don’t have many fears but I guess one would be falling from a great height? So I would get scared of crossing a bridge and it collapsing or riding a plane and it falling easily

88. your greatest wish?

World peace🥲

89. who would you put before everyone else?

My mom maybe...?

90. luckiest mistake?

I honestly don’t remember but something I do remember is I out semicolon instead of period and turned out to be correct grammar lol

91. boxes or bags?

Boxes

92. lamps, overhead lights, sunlight or fairy lights?

Sunlight or fairy lights, I don’t require much either way and prefer more natural lighting

93. nicknames?

Lassie, twinkle toes, Ash, poody butt (by 3 yr old I sometimes watch and play with lol he means it affectionately; I call him monkey butt and it’s catching on slowly instead)

94. favorite season?

Starting to be fall just a little more but I like transition times most

95. favorite app on your phone?

Let’s go with twitter

96. desktop background?

It is a moriarty and gang pic

97. how many phone numbers do you have memorized?

2: mine and my moms

98. favorite historical era?

Ooo tough one but I’ll say renaissance as some of the coolest things came from that time

[nooneactuallyasked]

Diner Gal - Reggie x Reader Part 4

Requested: I am my own requester, we have fun here

Word count: 2,513

Warnings: Not enough Reggie? (Does that count? It does now lol)

Summary: Julie and the Phantoms ( + Flynn ) go to a musical diner/café/restaurant for inspiration and hopefully a future gig but they end up meeting a very special waitress.

Note: Sorry this took so long to get out, it’s quite a bit longer so that’s why. Also, can I just thank and say hello to @i-should-be-writing-my-own-fic​, all of your comments and reblogs are so sweet, you’re amazing! There will be more Reggie content coming up, this is a slow-burn, I hate when characters instantly fall in love, I feel like they need to make a connection first. Okay, enjoy!!!

Part 1 here

Part 2 here

Part 3 here

---

“Alex, stop pacing! Reggie- what- what are you doing?”

“Practicing my bass.”

“In mid-air…….without your bass?”

“It’s called an air bass, if I’m made out of air my bass can be too.”

“Okay, you do that.” Julie grabbed her keyboard stand, standing in the garage doorway, “Luke make your bandmates calm down, I have to take this out to the car.” Without an answer, Julie stumbled out of the garage towards where her dad and the car were waiting.

Luke scribbled in his notebook, without looking up, “You guys need to chill out, as long as we’re all together we’ll rock so hard there’s no way Cal will say no!” Reggie smiles and points a finger at him, “Plus, Y/N will be there, she’ll be able to convince Cal for us.” He adds as Julie jogs back in, “Okay we should be good to go as you guys can all poof in your instruments. You guys should get ready to leave.”

“Alright, but let me finish this line. I am in the zone.” Luke scribbled some final words on his notebook pages before looking up, “Alex, get off the runway, you’re gonna fall over the table or something.”

“But what if he says no and not even Y/N can convince him? I mean, what if- what if he has other bands in mind and just said yes to Y/N because she works there? What if we play and completely mess it up!?” Luke deadpans Alex as his bandmate starts shaking his hands up and down, his pacing increasing.

Luke rolls his eyes, standing up and holding Alex by his shoulders, “Chill, we’re gonna be fine. We’re gonna do amazing, like we usually do.”

“Guys, we need to go. Like, now. So, hurry up, move it!”

---

“So, Cal, my good buddy, my favourite boss, um...would it be alright, and remember that I’ve been a faithful worker for such a long time, would it be alright if I skipped every other audition apart from Julie and her band’s?” Y/N dragged out, her voice rising in pitch, trying to convince Cal with her best puppy eyes whilst he stared back at her with a deadpan expression.

“No, sit down. We have some performers to listen to.” She sighed and sat down in the chair next to him, putting her elbows on the desk in front of them, “I saw that coming…” she leaned her cheek against her palm as Cal chuckled at her, “And yet you always ask.”

“One day…one day I successfully skip this bullshit, mark my words.”

“Sure, sugar-pie. Now stop your grumbling, our first performer comes in 2 minutes.”

---

I want your love, and I want your revenge

You and me could write a bad romance

I want your love and all your lover’s revenge

You and me could write a bad romance

Oh oh oh oh oooh-

The poor girl’s voice broke. Y/N could see it coming, her vowel technique needed a bit more work but the girl was obviously passionate, this would crush her ego.

“You can stop now, we’ve heard enough. We’ll let you know.

Y/N winced, Cal could seem really cold at times however the warm smile he gave every performer at the end of his mantra definitely helped ease any hurt they may or may not feel.

“I can’t wait to perform here, I know you’ll make the best choice. I’ll see you on Friday.”

Maybe this wouldn’t crush her ego, after all, it seemed the thing was infinite. The girl walked out, her high heels clicking on the floor as Cal sighed. She knew why, when auditions were open to anyone who could arrive on time it was hard to find people who had that spark when performing. It doesn’t matter how good your voice is if you’re boring to watch then you might as well not show up.

Friday’s were important, they were a chance for anyone to get on stage and become an overnight sensation. But it got complicated when there were so many people that they had to pick and choose. That’s why they tried to get as many people as possible to perform, everyone deserved a chance to live out their dreams.

“Alright, I’ll grab our next victims. See you in a sec.” Y/N stood up, her chair scraping on the floor as Cal rolls his eyes, “Try to make it not sound like we’re about to murder everyone.” She chuckles, “Sure, I can try but I can’t promise it will happen.”

Y/N walked out of the door and into the ‘waiting area’, this happened every month and yet she never got used to how tedious it was. She picked up the waiting list and scanned the names, “Yulie and the- uh, the atoms? Anton's? Uh, come on through.” She put down the list and walked out, only hearing a chorus of male voices, “Again? Really?” “None of us are even called Anton!” and an awkward laugh from a female voice.

She sat back down in her chair and turned to Cal, “One Yulie and the Anton’s coming or up, or atoms, I’m not quite sure.” Cal started laughing, “Sounds fun, maybe we’ll get some science jokes.” Y/N started laughing too, “As long as it’s not physics I think I’ll be fine.”

The door opened up and four familiar faces walked in, all looking slightly sheepish. “Hi, sorry, it’s actually Julie and the Phantoms. Sorry if we’re late at all, we didn’t really know what time to come.” Cal raised an eyebrow and Y/N chuckled,  “That would be my fault, I never got round to giving them a time. This is the band I was telling you about,” She turned to Julie, “Sorry, I completely forgot the name and the writing, no offence, didn’t particularly help me out.” Luke grimaced at her words as Julie started laughing, “Yeah, I’m thinking I’ll get someone else to sign us up to things in the future.”

Cal coughed to gain our attention, “As much as I love this friendliness we don’t have all day, we have all of your kit here, our guys brought it in earlier. What will you be playing for us today?”

“Oh, uh we’ll we playing a song called Edge of Great. We hope you like it.” Y/N smiled at Julie and Cal nodded, pen at the ready. She hoped for the life of her that they were actually good or Cal would never trust her judgement again.

Running from the past

Tripping on the now

What is lost can be found, it's obvious

And like a rubber ball

We come bouncing back

We all got a second act, inside of us

Julie sat at her keyboard, her finger dancing over the keys. She seemed lost in the music and it was obvious how passionate she was, it made even Cal, the ever poker-faced, break out in a small smile. Julie moves to the middle of the performing area, as the beat drops the boys appear causing Cal to double-take in surprise, Y/N snickers in response.

I believe

I believe that we're just one dream

Away from who we're meant to be

That we're standing on the edge of

Something big, something crazy

Our best days are yet unknown

That this moment is ours to own

Y/N nodded her head and tapped her feet to the rhythm, her smile grew wider and wider, Cal would never doubt her again and she got to listen to a killer band, today was looking up.

'Cause we're standing on the edge of great

(On the edge of great) Great

(On the edge of great) Great

(On the edge of great)

'Cause we're standing on the edge of great

Luke kept sending glances toward Julie as she was dancing in between them all, the stage presence was amazing. They were definitely at the top of Y/N’s list of potential performers.

We all make mistakes

But they're just stepping stones

To take us where we wanna go

It's never straight, no

Sometimes we gotta lean

Lean on someone else

To get a little help

Until we find our way

Luke and Julie gravitate towards each other, their excited smiles growing soft and caring; the chemistry was definitely a plus, it was incredible to watch, like watching history unfold. The two share a microphone as they sing the chorus, Reggie and Alex share a look and Y/N smiles, not even Cal could find a fault in their performance.

I believe

I believe that we're just one dream

Away from who we're meant to be

That we're standing on the edge of

Something big, something crazy

Our best days are yet unknown

That this moment is ours to own

Y/N started dancing in her seat whilst Cal laughed. She then had a brilliant idea, she stood up and tried to pull Cal up to dance with her. While he refused and tried his best to stay down, his efforts were almost futile against his laughing and Y/N’s upward pull on him.

'Cause we're standing on the edge of great

(On the edge of great) Great

(On the edge of great) Great

(On the edge of great)

'Cause we're standing on the edge of...

Luke went back to his mic and Julie came over to Y/N, she smiled brightly and they danced around together. They both felt like they had made a firm friend, the fun dance they shared confirmed that feeling, neither could have felt happier at that moment, they were lost in the music and everyone around could see it.

Shout, shout

C'mon and let it out, out

Don't gotta hide it

Let your colours blind their eyes

Be who you are no compromise

Just shout, shout

C'mon and let it out, out

What doesn't kill you makes you feel alive

Y/N moved back from Julie and sat back down, her smile still evident. Cal laughed at her and she pushed him with her shoulder. Julie turned to Luke as he moved toward her, the heart eyes were back.

Ooh-oh

I believe

I believe that we're just one dream

Away from who we're meant to be

That we're standing on the edge of great

Reggie and Alex joined Luke in singing the chorus as Julie continued her high belt which left Cal in slight shock and Y/N almost jumping and screaming in support and excitement.

Something big, something crazy

Our best days are yet unknown

That this moment is ours to own

Y/N smiled at Alex when he looked up, he beamed right back and continued singing and drumming with a passion that shined through everything else. She looked over to Reggie and sent a smile his way too. He winked at her and chuckled when she rolled her eyes playfully at him, though her smile widened in response.

'Cause we're standing on the edge of great

(On the edge of great) On the edge of great

(Great, on the edge of great) On the edge

(Great, on the edge of great)

'Cause we're standing on the edge of...

Julie went back to her keyboard and slipped her mic into the holder, Luke went over and looked her in the eyes as they sang to each other. The chemistry was off the charts!

Running from the past

Tripping on the now

What is lost can be found, it's obvious

When they finished and the boys disappeared Cal just sat there speechless, Y/N pushed his shoulder before giving them a standing ovation. “That was amazing!” She turned to Cal who was still seated, now thinking over what he just watched, “Oh come on, stand up, clap, stop pretending to be professional we both know you’re not! Book the band and we’ll have them for our last set, we’ll go out with a bang.” Cal still looked unsure, “I don’t know, what if-“ “Okay, no.” Y/N turned to Julie, “You’re our last performance on Friday. We have rehearsals every other day to check up on you, if you let me know where we can do it at a place of your choice. Your soundcheck will be at 2pm on Friday. Don’t miss it. Once again, you’re our closing act so you’re welcome to stay or go at any time between you soundcheck and your performance. We’ll let you know your performance time when we figure out the rest of the performance schedule. Thank you guys for coming, it was amazing, you’re definitely going places.”

Cal stared at her, his jaw slack in surprise, until he shook himself out of it and stood up, going to ask Y/N what she was doing, “What- you can’t just- we need to think about this.” She turned to him and deadpanned, “We both know you were gonna book them anyway, I’m doing you a favour, even you couldn’t help but smile.” Y/N turned back to the group, “Once again, thank you for coming. Ask the front desk for my info, give me a call by tomorrow to sort out a rehearsal time and space.”

Julie smiled widely, her chest starting to warm with a familiar jittery feeling of excitement, “Thank you! Thank you so much! I’ll definitely let you know as soon as I can.” Y/N laughed, “Don’t sweat it, someone needs to make decisions for Cal when he goes brain dead.”

“Hey! I’m still your boss!”

“I might as well be yours at this point” She shouted back without turning her head, causing a chuckle from Julie. She tried not to acknowledge the boys because if what they were saying was true, it seemed to be looking that way, she didn’t want to appear clinically insane to the public eye.

The boys themselves, however, didn’t really have much to add to the interaction. They were just standing there, slightly shocked by how assertive Y/N was when she was passionate about something. Reggie just stared at her, a slight smile spreading across his face.

“Okay, we still have some more performances to listen to but it was great meeting you and I guess you’re our final act now so welcome, whilst you’re with us you are our family so relax. As you can see, our dynamic isn’t the most professional so rules aren’t always completely followed to the letter.” Cal joined them, a smile back on his face. He put his hand on Y/N’s shoulder and they smiled at each other, “This one over here basically runs the place so go to her for anything and everything. I can’t wait to see your performance, good luck.” He turned and walked out into the ‘waiting area’ to find the next performer

“Well, it’s been a blast, I’ll see you next time.” Julie smiled at Y/N and then the boys poofed out, making Y/N jump and stare at the empty space left behind, “I’m not even going to ask…oh! Also, please tell leather boy to stop staring at me, or at least ask why?”

“Oh, sure, I’ll ask him what’s up. I’ll call you as soon as I can, see you soon.”

“Goodbyyyeee!”

---

Taglist:

@hereforthejatp​

@slutforjjmaybank​

@morganayennefertyrell

[angrylizardjacket]

dirtbags // 2: Lola

Summary: High school AU, 1984, Winter. It’s hard to make friends when you’re the new kid starting halfway through Junior year, but slowly Lola seems to be making a few. It’s much easier to have a rumour started about you, especially when you tend to make questionable choices at parties, but that’s much less fun.

A/N: 8173 words. Lola’s dad is the MVP, trust me. i meant to put this out a week ago whoops!! also im allowed to reference my own Queen oc as a treat. @bluehourmotel, @misscharlottelee and again, interludes are A Softer World quotes.

[ m a s t e r p o s t ]

the best revenge is living well. the second best revenge is fire ants.

The fact that after being in town for a total of two weeks, Lola’s closest friend is the gas station attendant a full fifteen minute drive away from her house is kind of sad. Not that she’s disappointed to be Mick’s friend, he’s got a dry sense of humor but a good heart and he’s refreshing honesty, but she’s been at this new school for about a week and a half, has already made out with at least one person, has possibly convinced said-person’s cousin that she’s trying to corrupt him, and started to make a name for herself - whether it’s good or bad is yet to be seen -, and yet Mick Mars, nineteen-year-old gas station attendant, apprentice electrician, and aspiring guitar player is her closest friend. 

But she’s always been kind of terrible at making friends her own age.

“You have lost all respect from me,” Mick told her on Monday morning after the party, over the counter of the gas station as he’s ringing her up for her smokes and iced coffee before she went to school, “you could have picked anyone to mack on at that party, and you chose Tommy fuckin’ Lee?”

“He was nice to me, what was I meant to do?” Lola declared, realizing too late that that statement revealed absolutely too much about herself to a near stranger. Mick, however, just gives her a flat look.

“You need higher standards.” He doesn’t seem too phased by her. Lola takes this in stride, and nods, agreeing with a sigh. 

“What time do you finish work?” She asks, changing the subjects quickly as she’s pulling out a bill from her back pocket, “dad said he’s happy to let you have a look at that weird light switch that doesn’t do anything that I was telling you about.” 

“I finish at ten tonight, I’m working a double,” he groans at the very thought of it. Lola gives him a sympathetic look, and tells him to only come around if he’s up to it, otherwise leaving it for another day.

That’s the day that Lola realises the whole school knows about her and Tommy at the party, that she has Art with Charlotte before lunch, and also that Charlotte can’t look her in the eye.

Tuesday the school realises that she’s not just Lola Who Gives It Up For Free At Parties, but that she’s Lola The New Girl and that they don’t know anything about her beyond that. There’s a guy in her wood working class with long black hair and a dangerous smile that winks at her; she flips him off, knowing all he cared about was knowing if the rumours were true. She’s got AP French last period with that ginger from the party who wouldn’t stop laughing, Eileen; she’s a lot more serious, sober. The cheerleader, Heather, won’t stop giving her these weird, calculating looks.

Wednesday there’s a new rumour, that she was expelled from her last school. The population of the school hasn’t decided what exactly they think she was expelled for yet. Turns out she has English with that guy from her woodworking class, he just hadn’t turned up for their lesson on Monday; he sits at the back like Lola, in the other corner, and the teacher calls him Nikki in a tone like she’s already disappointed. Lola can see why, he fell asleep at his desk. Art last period with Charlotte; she still barely looks at Lola. 

Thursday. Heather asks in AP French if Lola’s heard what everyone’s saying about her; her tone is sweet and dangerous in equal measure and Lola doesn’t trust what’s about to come out of her mouth. The new rumour is that Lola was expelled for sleeping with a teacher; something about the glint in Heather’s eye is cruel, and Lola asks her sweetly if she’s more jealous of Lola or the teacher. That shuts Heather up fast, and Eileen’s cough behind them sounds more like she’s trying to hide a laugh. But it still gets to her; Lola focuses so hard on ignoring the girls gossiping loudly about her at their station behind her in Home Economics that she burns the apple danishes she was attempting, and she throws the burnt pastries, and the tray they’d been cooking on, into the bin until she realises her mistake and sulkily fishes the tray out again. Thankfully, the teacher didn’t notice.

Friday, and Lola hasn’t paid much attention to Vince, whose house she’s been to but who she hadn’t properly met until their classes had P.E at the same time; he’s in the year below her, but still manages to sidle up to her while they’re both waiting for their teachers to prepare the field for whatever torture they’re masquerading as physical exercise today. She tells him to fuck off; there’s something about the way he conducts himself that she doesn’t like, like he’s putting on a show of being shallow and vain and the life of the party. Instead, Vince’s voice goes quiet and he tells her that Tommy’s a good kid with a good heart -

“You give this speech to everyone you caught making out at your parties, or just me, ‘cos you think I’m a bitch and I’m gonna hurt one of ‘your bros’?” She snapped, lip curling, and Vince’s brow creases into a frown, “I’m not his fucking girlfriend, we made out a little, you don’t have to act like I’m going to break his heart, so piss off.”

A moment passes, and he appears to don his shallow, playboy mask when he asks her slyly if the rumours are true. She shoves him hard enough that he skitters back a few feet, and Lola earns her first after school detention.

The thing is, she and Tommy are already on the same page about this, it was a what happens while drunk at a party stays at that party. Or at least, it’s meant to. Either way, Charlotte’s protectiveness, and Vince’s... attempt at protectiveness was unwarranted. Maybe it’s because Tommy, for whatever reason, has started hanging around Lola at lunch.

She doesn’t sit in the cafeteria like the rest of them, or even on that little section of the roof the intimidating pack of punks, rockers, and smokers have found a way to get to. Lola sits against the fence near the science building, close to the carpark that’s always open for some stupid reason, as though she’s contemplating bolting.

“Don’t you have friends?” Lola’s tone is kind of hard, and perhaps her words are on the nose, and a little cruel, but it’s Wednesday, and this is the third day in a row he’s found her and spent the entirety of lunch with her. They don’t speak much, Lola smokes and picks apart whatever her dad’s latest cooking experiment is before she eats it, and Tommy practices twirling his drumsticks. 

“I have friends, do you?” Tommy responds, more than a little defensive, rubbing at his brow where he’d just managed to hit himself mid-drumstick-twirl, taken aback by her question. Lola gives him a flat look. “Someone told me you were expelled from your last school,” Tommy’s gaze shifts to the carpark, to the last car and it’s telltale rocking and fogged up windows.

“They say why?”

“Nah,” Tommy shakes his head, scowl softening as he gets back to practicing, “it true?” Lola’s picking out and eating the apple chunks from the slice of pie her father had packed for the day, still watching the car with the mildest of interest. She shakes her head. Tommy hums noncommittally. They spend the rest of lunch in silence.

“He keeps hanging out with me!” The following afternoon, Lola gripes to Mick on his smoke break after she gets out of school for the afternoon.

“You keep hanging out with me,” Mick points out, peeling the label off of a bottle of soda.

“And?”

“I don’t tell you to fuck off.”

“Yeah? So?”

“Because,” and Mick heaves a heavy sigh, like it pains him to admit, “we’re friends, Lola,” but he pauses and amends, “God knows why.”

“Fuck you, I’m a delight,” Lola huffs, and pulls her oversized denim jacket tighter around herself to ward off the chill of the afternoon breeze. If this were pretty much any other state, they’d be knee-deep in snow; thank God for LA, snow’s pretty for five minutes before it’s a pain.

“Do you tell him to fuck off?” Mick asks pointedly, as if exhausted that he has to spell it out for her. Lola’s quiet, but her answer’s clear. Mick clears his throat with a cough. Lola’s scowl deepens. 

She brings it up to her father that night. 

“Do you reckon Tommy’s trying to be my friend?” She asked, gaze intense as she focuses on slicing apples into little cubes. Leo, her father, who was kneeding a blend of spices into a ball of dough that would end up being a pie crust, paused.

“The kid who has been hanging out with you at lunch?” He thought for a moment, “the one from the party?”

“I told him it was nothing serious-” Lola tried, exasperatedly cutting the apples a little rougher, but her father’s warm, gentle laugh cut her off.

“Yes, I think he’s trying to be your friend,” he told her, which Lola hadn’t exactly wanted to hear, but the information was easier to digest coming from him than it was coming from Mick, “he obviously likes you -”

“But I told him -”

“I know, you told him it wasn’t serious, but dear, that doesn’t mean he likes you less as a person - you’re a very cool cat, I can see why he’d want to be your friend,” he gives her finger guns, and Lola can’t help but laugh softly at his attempt to be hip. 

“Christ, dad,” Lola huffs, smiling fondly, but he’d managed to cheer her spirits considerably. 

“I burnt my danishes today,” Lola’s voice goes quiet as she goes back to focusing on her task, and her dad makes a noise of intrigue, “got distracted and crisped the whole tray.”

“You’ll get ‘em next time; just fifteen minutes, remember?”

“Fifteen minutes, no distractions,” Lola agreed, almost by rote, thankful that he doesn’t ask about what had distracted her. She can still hear the whispered gossip and giggles that had come from the cooking station behind her in Home Economics.

Her dad knows that her peers think she was expelled from her last school, but she keeps her mouth shut about the fact that today they’d decided it was because she had relations with a teacher; he knows almost everything about her, but he didn’t need to know about a whole school calling her a slut. He’d blow it out of proportion, and it isn’t getting to her since she knew for a fact it wasn’t true. 

They finish the apple pie with it’s rosemary and lemongrass crust in good spirits. The flavours don’t go together as well as Leo had hoped, but it’s another step closer to the perfect apple pie he’d been trying for. Leo packs her two of the leftover slices for lunch, as a not-so-subtle hint. 

On Friday, Lola hands Tommy a plastic container with a piece of apple pie, with a rosemary and lemongrass crust in it.

“Is it poison?” He asks. Lola doesn’t look at him, picking the individual apple pieces out and eating them one at a time.

“The crust tastes weird if you eat it with the filling,” Lola’s voice is flat as she explains instead of answering, “but the apples are sweet.” She eats another cube of apple, then breaks off a corner of the golden, perfectly cooked crust, now cold and stiff from spending the night in the refrigerator. 

“Why are you giving me this?” 

“Eat it or don’t, I don’t care,” Lola tells him, hunching further in on herself; like this, she can’t see the way Tommy’s expression has broken out into a smile.

“Thanks Lola,” but the smile is evident in his voice, confirming all of her suspicions at once. Tommy took her at her word when she said the rumours weren’t true, even if the rest of the school believed them, so Lola supposes she’s actually okay with the fact that her second ever friend in the entirety of California is the marching band geek in the year below her who she made out with at a party once. 

Also maybe she’s just kind of terrible at making friends.

you and me baby! we are the future! and the future is bleak.

“Wait, you’ve never met Nikki Sixx?” Tommy asked, sitting patiently with his back against the fence, his hand resting on her knee as she fills in the the nails of his left hand with black sharpie, “didn’t you go to his gig the other week?”

“I didn’t know anyone,” Lola pointed out, and Tommy makes a thoughtful noise.

“You’d love him, he’s so fucking cool,” he assured her, which made Lola give pause; Tommy also thinks Vince is fucking cool, and she wants to throw Vince out a window, “he was the one on bass.” 

“The one in the leather pants?” Lola couldn’t help but smile at the memory; she’d appreciated it at the time, and could appreciate it now. Tommy, however, rolled his eyes.

“The girls love the leather pants,” he gave a quiet sigh, before adding, almost to himself, “wish I had leather pants.” 

“Leather pants would look good on you,” Lola pinches at his thigh for a moment, and goes back to filling in his nails. missing Tommy’s pleased, flustered little smile. 

“You know Freddie paints his nails like this,” Tommy says instead, changing the topic of conversation.

“Freddie?”

“Mercury. From Queen; you know Queen, right?” And he sounds kind of skeptical, like if she doesn’t know them, they can’t be friends anymore. Lola pauses again, her hand soft on Tommy’s where she’s filling in around his ring finger’s cuticle.

“I wanna climb John Deacon like a fucking tree,” she mutters, which startles a laugh out of Tommy, his hand jerking up to cover his mouth, making Lola leave a black line against his knee, through the rip in his jeans. When she looks up at him, however, her eyes are shining with mirth, “come on, man, you must have seen the video of them performing in Montreal last year!” And she licks her lips, watching Tommy’s blush grow steadily darker. After a beat, Lola bursts out laughing, shattering the tension and shifting to sit beside him, idly doodling on her own hand with the marker as Tommy shakes his head with amusement.

Lola starts humming Back Chat to herself, and Tommy leans his head back against the wire of the fence, listening for a moment.

“You and Charlie would get along great too,” he considers, and Lola doesn’t stop humming, nor does she look to him, “she likes Roger, but probably just because she thinks he’s pretty.” Lola can hear his eyeroll without even seeing it, and she’s not sure why, but she files that information away in the back of her mind; she’d never gotten an especially shallow vibe from Charlotte, but there was a uncertain undeniable appeal to Roger Taylor’s pretty-boy charm.

“Didn’t his girlfriend leave him for Bowie?” Lola asks mildly, barely pausing to speak between humming notes.

“Rocket Mercury?”

“Her name’s Rocket?” Lola snorts, finally looking at him, and Tommy’s lips twisted into an amused grin. 

“Her name’s Ash, but everyone calls her Rocket,” he says, like he’s in the know, and Lola stays quiet, nodding and trying not to laugh, “and yeah, I think so, she’s been with a few people since him I think; Bowie, this girl from this English band Hawkwind, Elton John maybe? Or someone around him I think.” Tommy nods, and Lola’s kind of intrigued as to why he knows so much about Queen’s drummer’s partner, but something else has caught her attention.

“A girl from Hawkwind?” Tommy doesn’t seem to notice the way Lola’s voice has softened, or how her expression has dropped to something carefully neutral. She’s drawing a little flower on the knuckle of her thumb.

“One of their dancers, Stacy, maybe?” Tommy’s own tone is light, like he doesn’t even realise Lola’s hanging onto his every word regarding this one little detail about a woman she doesn’t even know, “was kind of a scandal, but it was years ago; she’s Freddie’s sister after all, maybe it’s genetic.”

“Genetic?”

“Liking girls and guys, you know?” And he pauses. Lola’s frozen beside him, the marker pressed hard against her skin, breath caught in her throat. He throws it out so casually, so easily. Her hands are shaking. The words so kind when he says them, so unlike what she’s used to hearing. Tommy’s already moved on to the next thought. “actually, I’m not sure if Freddie’s like, legit her brother, but anyways, she and Roger are back together; I’m glad.” As if a sixteen-year-old’s opinion on a rock legend’s love life mattered, “he seems happier with her, all his best live shows were when they were together.”

“I’d kill to play half as well as him,” it’s almost wistful when Tommy says it, interrupting Lola’s thoughts, his gaze trained on the sky, as if imagining he’s on stage himself. Lola lets out a long, quiet breath, recentering herself as she looks to him.

“You wanna play drums?” 

“I can play drums,” Tommy tells her like it’s the most obvious thing in the world, “but not nearly as good as Roger Fucking Taylor, can you imagine?” But Lola’s more focused on the -

“I thought you just played in the marching band, can you play, like, full -” and she sits forward, gesturing like she’s tapping on a full drumkit, eyes shinning. Suddenly, in the face of her rare, unrestrained smile, Tommy feels himself growing nervous, like he’ll let her down if he’s not actually as good as he thinks he is.

“I’ve got a kit in my garage,” he admits, and Lola pauses, letting her excitement simmer, as though realising it had gotten the best of her, breaking her cool and aloof facade.

“That’s cool as hell,” she does add, however, and Tommy beams.

“Thanks,” he mumbles, all flustered at even the slightest praise, “man, you’d really like Charlie, I know she looks all fancy and intimidating, but she’s a real softie inside.”

“You are really pushing hard for me to be friends with your cousin,” Lola notes, giving him a sidelong glance, and Tommy’s nose scrunches up, caught out.

“She thinks you’re trying to corrupt me,” he grumbles, “but if you guys met she’d know you’re not.”

“I am corrupting you,” Lola smirks, “next week I plan on peer pressuring you into smoking.”

“I’ve smoked before!” Tommy’s up in arms, like the implication that he hasn’t done something as low-level cool as smoking offends him.

“Dude I was kidding, I gave you half my cigarette yesterday,” Lola reminds him, and the bell rings.

While Lola was more than happy to let sleeping dogs lie, it appeared that Charlotte was not, and less than two days after her conversation with Tommy, Lola finds herself sitting by Charlotte’s side in their shared art class.

It’s the last class of the day, and Charlotte’s the one who sits by Lola. There’s no preamble, barely acknowledging the decision, just opening her notebook and focusing on the theory the teacher had already started to jot down on the whiteboard.

When they’re given free time, however, to work on personal projects, Charlotte opens her sketchbook and sharpens her pencil, and without looking at Lola, begins speaking quietly.

“Tommy thinks we’d get along,” Charlotte sounds completely innocent and perfectly harmless, but Lola remember how Charlotte had looked at her, part deer-in-the-headlights startled at the realisation, and knee-jerk protective fury, at Vince’s party when she realised who Lola had been kissing. 

“So I’ve heard,” Lola doesn’t look up, but Charlotte’s pencil stills on her paper. After a beat, Lola turns to see Charlotte giving her a curious look. Propping her head up on her hand, Lola gives a thin, amused smile, “he also thinks I’d be good friends with Nikki Sixx; was he the one you yelled at, at the gig?”

Instead of being flustered or going red at the mention of the moment, Charlotte’s expression lights up, as if the idea somehow delights her, and slowly she’s nodding. All her earlier reservations and hostility was quickly leaving her.

“Yeah, actually I told Nikki you reminded me of him, actually -”

“I remind you of Nikki?” Lola’s grin widened, and she shifted to face Charlotte further. 

“He’s kind of a tool -” Charlotte blurted after a moment of contemplation, and Lola’s eyebrows raised in amused surprise. Charlotte’s quick to backtrack, “I mean, I’m not saying you are- well, I don’t know you, but I mean, Tommy -” Charlotte frowns at that, expression falling as she considered quietly, “actually, I mean, I love him, but he’s not the greatest judge of character; he thinks Nikki hangs the stars, despite never really speaking to him,” she pauses and heaves a sigh of realisation, “that probably why he thinks so highly of him -”

“I thought they were friends,” Lola’s genuinely surprised, given how kindly Tommy had spoken of him.

“Half the school is terrified of Nikki, half seems to be in love with him; Tommy’s in the second half.”

“And which half are you?”

“I’m the only person who seems to think he’s just kind of a pest,” Charlotte’s response is surprisingly mild, as if she doesn’t quite believe what she’s saying.

“He’s talented, though,” Lola offers, and Charlotte looks back to her, as if brought from her own thoughts. There’s a pause, a lull. Lola puts down her pen, and turns more fully to Charlotte, stretching her arm out over the desk, and resting her head fully on it, like a particularly smug cat stretching out in the sun. Charlotte is slower to put down her pencil, but does so after another moment, pristine fingernails drumming against her sketchbook for a moment. 

“He was talented,” Charlotte agreed, thought it sounds like she doesn’t quite want to, “my ex actually got me into his kind of music, he was a fan of Nikki’s too; I’d tell Nikki I enjoy his music but it’d go straight to his ego,” and she casts Lola a sidelong look, lips stretched into a smirk, which Lola returns. 

“I am a little bit of a tool,” Lola finally admits with a self deprecating grin, and Charlotte shakes her head.

“You’d fucking love him,” Charlotte tells her, with a strained, sort of resigned huff of laughter, like the concept of them meeting was a little bit horrifying, and already exhausting.

“You like his kind of music,” Lola circled back around to quickly, “never pictured you as a hard rocker, you’re very...” and she trails down, looking at Charlotte’s pristine cheerleading uniform, and thick, black tights, the only thing protecting her legs from the Winter air. The blonde shifts a little uncomfortably under the scrutiny, brow furrowing.

“I know,” Charlotte says flatly, crossing her ankles, far too self aware in the moment, “you expect me to just be listening to nothing but Abba and Madonna all day?” She sneers, suddenly haughty again, and Lola licks her lips, intrigued; she can tell she’s pushed a button, and debates for a moment if she wants to press it further. 

“Not all the time,” Lola said, sitting back up slowly, “but I mean, I’m kind of partial to Does Your Mother Know, there’s no shame in loving Abba,” she shrugs, and Charlotte lets herself visibly relax. 

“Never pictured you as an Abba fan,” Charlotte actually grins.

There’s a distinct lack of hostility in the air between the two girls by the time the class ends, after spending the entire class gushing over various bands across a surprising range of genres, and Lola quickly finds she appreciates how wrong her initial impression of Charlotte had been.

As they’re leaving for the day, or well, Lola’s leaving, and Charlotte’s heading to cheer practice, the conversation lulls as Charlotte grows thoughtful.

“Hey, just... Tommy’s kind of a hopeless romantic,” and even as she speaks, she knows Lola’s growing irate at Charlotte’s hesitant tone, “and honestly, the girls he goes for usually don’t... they don’t usually give him the time of day, and he obviously thinks the world of you, I just don’t want you to -”

“I’ve told him that I don’t want to date him; he’s the one who keeps hanging around me,” Lola’s own tone appears to surprise Charlotte, now that she understands the root of the other girl’s protectiveness, “we’re...” and the word catches in Lola’s throat for a moment, knowing that speaking it makes it true, “friends.” 

Lola glances at Charlotte out the corner of her eye, and sees the way Charlotte’s lips twist into a pleased little smirk.

“I was just making sure.”

love is stupid. happiness is admitting we aren’t better than stupid.

Leo Fields, thirty-nine years old, owner of soon-to-be-named Leo Diner’s in suburban LA, a graduate of the Culinary Institute of America, who worked in the luxurious Parker House restaurant in Boston and quit after ten years there, including three years as Sous Chef and one year as Head Chef, only to open his own 50s style diner a mere ten minutes away in Salem, has and will always claim his favourite food is Easy Cheese.

Once, a long time ago, Lola had asked him why.

She’s asked him a lot of things, why he’d left his high-end restaurant to essentially flip burgers, why he kept his hair long, what his tattoos meant -

Lola’s eight, sitting on the counter and swinging her legs while Leo was crushing garlic to add to their dinner, his hair tied back into a large bun atop his head.

“People will try and tell you that just because something is expensive, fancy, or higher class,” Leo had rolled his eyes exaggeratedly at that, putting on a voice to make his daughter laugh, “that it’s better; they are wrong. If something brings you joy, it is better than all things that do not bring you joy, no matter how fancy the things you don’t like are,” he’d told her very seriously, “better is not real, better is what you believe; better for you means healthier, and that’s real, but when people use better to mean good, they mean that it’s good in their mind, and maybe you agree, but maybe you won’t.” And he scrapes the garlic into the pan and oil cooking on low as he then began dicing onions.

“I use all my fancy training and knowledge to make foods I think are better, but now I get to also serve them with a smile, and I get to talk to the people I’m giving the food to, get to know them, let them know they’re welcome here,” he tries to smile while his eyes are watering from the onions, almost finished cutting them. “People in my old fancy restaurant didn’t want that, they wanted you to think they were better than you, and if you thought their food wasn’t good, that’s because you’re not fancy enough, and you’re not welcome here.” 

“But that’s wrong,” Lola said with a slight frown, looking to her father for confirmation, and after he wiped his eyes with the back of his hands, he beamed.

“Exactly,” he nodded and scraped the diced onions into the pan too, moving easily about the kitchen to pull mince from the refrigerator, “people liking something different to you is actually great; if everyone in the world liked Easy Cheese, we’d never be able to buy it!” And Lola laughed at that, the example making it easy for her to understand his point, “but making them feel bad for liking those things, that’s bad; that’s why I have my hair long, why I have my tattoos, they’re part of who I am, they’re part of my family’s history and where I come from, and I like them. If someone else is rude to me because of them, then I know right away that’s not someone I want in my life. People like to think they’re better than other people for stupid reasons sometimes.”

“Like if they’re fancy or not?” Lola asks, and Leo gives her a fond smile and nod.

“Like if they’re fancy or not.”

Leo’s not sure if Lola even remembers this, but he does. So when Lola, seventeen years old, standing in the kitchen, eating a ham and Easy Cheese sandwich after school, tells him that Charlotte, the girl in her art class, Tommy-from-the-party’s cousin, complimented her jacket, the pin-and-patch-covered, black, denim, proto-crust-punk, heirloom he’d loaned to her since she’d asked to wear it when starting a new school, and had barely gone a day without it, he can read into her smile even when it’s hidden behind her sandwich.

“Sounds like she has good taste,” Leo leans his hip against the counter top, legs feeling the warmth of the oven where he’s got a loaf of herb and garlic bread baking away. 

Lola spends a full twenty minutes enthusing about Charlotte’s taste in music, eyes bright and tone animated. He only interrupts her to hand her a packet of prosciutto and a bundle of asparagus, so she could help him prepare for dinner, but it doesn’t slow her down, hands working quickly, while Leo boiled potatoes and simmered some garlic in butter on a low heat. 

Both Lola and Leo know why Lola’s been so hesitant to make friends since moving, and she knows he’d never push her into friendship, but Lola also knows it hurts him to see her lonely.

“Hey dad, I’ve been meaning to ask you,” Lola says after a long pause, finally taking a breath after she’s finished recounting her day to him, “you know Queen, right?”

“Do I know Queen?” Leo jokingly scoffed, “Lola, I’m the one who introduced you to Queen.” He reminded, and Lola gave a small smile, but her heart wasn’t in it; she wasn’t usually nervous, but talking about this sort of thing still made her heart race a little. Seeing her hesitant expression, Leo’s own softens, and he turns down the potatoes to turn his full attention to her, “what about Queen?”

“I didn’t know Freddie’s sister was with the drummer,” Lola starts, fiddling with the final piece of asparagus. She’s quick to follow it up before she can chicken out, “and I didn’t know... she’s like Bowie, and Fred, and... and me, you know?” Lola finally wraps up the final vegetable and places it on the glass baking tray with the rest, before she looks to her father who was watching her pensively, hoping he understands what she’s trying to say.

“That’s little Rocket Mercury you’re talking about, isn’t it?” He asked as a smile stretched across his lips, “I heard that about her, I always thought she was so cool, she worked on Spinal Tap, you remember I took you to see Spinal Tap a few months ago?” 

Lola’s heart eases in her chest at his words, his warmth, the way he seems to reflect positively on the news. While Lola knew she didn’t have anything to worry about, since the whole reason Leo had taken her and moved across the country was her mother’s less-than-kind reaction to the news of Lola dating a girl, the memory of it all still made her nervous.

Leo’s entire face lights up, and he makes a loud exclamation, like suddenly remembering some vital information, snapping Lola out of her dwelling.

“How have I never played you any Dusty Springfield?” He announces, picking up the glass tray from the table and placing it to the side, “I’ve got some of her records in my collection,” the oven timer goes off and he asks Lola to watch the potatoes so they don’t overboil while he takes out the bread and puts the asparagus in, “Dusty’s like you too; she’s a pop-star from the sixties, lovely voice, told the Evening Standard she liked girls and boys all the way back in nineteen-seventy.” He says as he sets the timer for the asparagus, and Lola wraps her arms around him from behind, if only to hide how wide she’s smiling.

“She pretty?” Lola asked, grinning against his soft, woolen sweater. Leo gently pet her hands where they were wrapped around his middle, giving a warm laugh.

“Very; it’s no wonder girls and boys liked her too.”

Lola had never seen her father flinch in the face of change, and for that she would always be grateful for him. The only time she’d ever seen him lose his cool was when he’d come to her defense against her mother’s bigotted views; apart from that, she’d never known anyone more willing to go with the flow.

Take last week, for instance, Mick had taken Saturday off from the gas station to go look at the fixture Lola had mentioned not seemingly connected to anything. Leo had finally had the red and white, checkered floor installed earlier that week, and the booths had been reupholstered over Thursday and Friday in a shiny, inviting, deep peach, to compliment the warm aesthetic completed by the pleasantly sunny walls. 

One of the many things about Lola is that she know when people look at her father, they never expect him to be the embodiment of sunshine; six-foot-something, built like a tank from doing a majority of the manual labor around his diners on his own. His traditional, Hawaiian tattoos were on full display today, across his chest, arms, and legs, wearing a singlet and shorts despite it being the middle of winter, after spending all morning hauling an industrial freezer into the kitchen, with what little help Lola could offer. He wears his long, wavy black hair in a ponytail down his back; the only thing that ever betrayed the warmth of his personality was the crows feet by his eyes, the laugh lines around his mouth, and the kindness in his eyes themselves.

Leo Fields, teddy-bear in the body of a GI Joe, took one look at Mick Mars, the weary, rather scrawny teenager with barely any face visible for his long, shaggy, dyed black hair, and gave him a bright smile, ushering him inside. He introduces himself, and immediate asks what kind of music Mick listened to.

“I fucking hate Kiss,” Mick had said immediately, knee-jerk hostility, the way he was shifting his weight from one foot to the other being the only giveaway to how intimidated he felt.

“They can be a lot some times,” Leo had shrugged, gesturing to the jukebox, “I’ve already put a few of my favourites in, you wanna see if anything catches your eye?” Mick moves quietly, as if afraid to make a noise, even stepping in combat boots he barely makes a sound, and Leo makes mention that he’s going to freshen up, and that Lola knows what switch needs to be looked at. 

“Hendrix?” Mick says with a hint of pleased surprise, right before Leo leaves, and Lola’s father gives a nod.

“Put it on, man, turn it up loud; it’s Electric Ladyland in there, right?” And at Leo’s question, Mick nods. Leo gives a delighted thumbs up, and heads upstairs to the flat above the diner.

“That’s your dad?” Mick asks, voice low after Leo’s disappeared, hitting play on the Jimi Hendrix record. Lola’s sitting on the counter, swinging her legs; she knows looks like him, same face, same long, dark hair, same copper complexion, it’s usually the staggering difference in their respective physicalities that seemed to trip people up, so his confusion wasn’t a surprise.

“That’s my dad,” Lola agrees, with a slight nod, looking around the warm and inviting diner that still smelled like new vinyl from the seats. She’d light a candle or two later. 

Lola knows the rumours going around town about the diner, about how it’s owner was a chef, about how it’s hopefully going to serve better food than the last owners, but also how everyone knew very little about the new owner beyond that. It made her giddy, like she had a secret, to know that her father was capable of blowing their expectations out of the water with his food alone. Back in Salem, Leo’s was known for restaurant-quality food at, well, diner prices. All the fries were hand cut, there was always home made pie or slice or cookies on sale, the beef patties were made with real mince and mixed with Leo’s special blend of herbs and spices, and fish was delivered fresh, daily. 

Lola knew her father knew what it was like to be discriminated against based on his looks, and how hard he’d fought to prove his skills as a chef, so in turn, he hired based on attitude and experience, and trying to give those who may not have had a fair shot an opportunity. Leo had always paid well, treated his workers with kindness, and tried to give everyone the benefit of the doubt. The diner had only ever made a modest profit, despite it’s popularity, but it had never been about the money for her father.

Back at Lola’s old high school, if you were popular, you looked for a job at the mall, but if you were an outcast, a loner, or a stoner, you applied for Leo’s; her dad had the ability to bring out the best in people, no-one wanted to disappoint Leo.

Her dad would never go anything as gauche as brag, but he has always prided himself on the quality of his diner and his food, glad to be putting his years of training and experience to use for people who’s appreciate it. 

Mick clears his throat, snapping Lola out of her thoughts.

“Light switch?”

Mick thinks the switch probably connected to an exhaust fan the previous owner had removed, which baffled both Lola and Leo, seeing as how they’d had several exhaust fans installed, and the idea that this place had it’s one removed is unthinkable; how had they ever gotten the smell out?

After, Leo invites Mick up to have a look through his record collection, to recommend some for the jukebox, while he attempted a maple and walnut soufflé. 

The moment Mick mentions he wants to join a band, Leo lights up, peppers him with questions, what type of music he likes to play, his influences, what type of band he’d like to form. Seemingly unused to the overwhelming interest and positivity regarding his aspirations, Mick is almost startled into being forthcoming, and quickly warms to Lola’s dad.

While the soufflé’s in the oven, the three of them sit on the roof and smoke, while Leo reminisces about seeing Cream live, a few months after Lola was born, and how he’d swaddled her in his concert shirt, only for her to take a liking to it, and had used it as a blanket up until she started daycare. At hearing this, Lola ducks her head to hide her smile, knowing she still had that shirt, though it was more hole than shirt at this point, hanging in her cupboard. 

Occasionally, when she looks to him, Lola sees Mick regarding her with confusion, and okay, maybe she can understand why; he knows her to be reserved and dry, but with Leo, she’s outgoing and talkative and smiles so wide he can see her teeth. There’s barely a hint of her aloof façade around her father, and as Mick spends more time with him, it’s clear he can see why.

“Mick’s cool,” Leo announces with a grin when Mick himself has left, putting foil over the leftover soufflé for later, while Lola washes the few dishes and is more than happy to agree with him.

They spend Sunday decorating the diner, making it look less sparse with photos and hanging and various bits of music and pop culture memorabilia, while the jukebox blared rock and roll. A few people pass by in time to see Lola and Leo in an air guitar competition, but neither of them really care. Leo’s looks more like home by the time the sun goes down. 

there will always be someone better than you. but on the bright side, who cares?

Eileen sits next to her in AP French during the entire last week of school for the semester. Everything she does seems so perfectly calculated, this change in seating included, but she refuses to acknowledge it. Heather clicks her tongue, clearly annoyed that Eileen had taken the seat she had previously vacated the day Lola staked her own next to it, and judging by Eileen’s innocent little smile, that alone made it worth it.

Lola tries not to pay too much attention to Heather, pretty, mean, and popular, almost the exact stereotype Lola had assumed Charlotte to be before she’d actually befriended her. They only have French together, but Heather keeps watching her, Lola sees it out of the corner of her eye, but her glare has become more speculative, more thoughtful as the weeks have passed, and Lola’s not quite sure what to make of it. Whatever scathing personal attack Heather’s probably working on is her business, she doesn’t know shit about Lola, so Lola tries not to care.

Once Eileen sits next to Lola, the glare comes back in full force anyhow.

On Thursday, the last AP French lesson for the semester, Eileen offers Lola a stick of spearmint gum, and it feels kind of like a test. Lola takes the gum anyways, and Eileen smiles at her, surprisingly genuine. 

“You’re Charlotte’s friend,” Lola says, and Eileen’s smile widens.

“You’re the girl who kissed her cousin,” she says. Lola’s whole expression falls, mouth flattening into a thin, unamused line, ready to go on the defensive. 

“And?”

Eileen shrugs, says nothing more on the subject, instead, glancing at Lola’s hands.

“My mom would kill me for wearing black nail polish, but it looks so cool on you,” She says, and Lola bites back a jaded response about her own mother, looking to her own hands, and the fresh and shiny coat of polished she’d applied the night before. 

“Your mom kind of sounds like an asshole, if black nail polish is enough to get her riled up,” Lola says, without even thinking about how harsh the words sounded, but once the words are out, she adds, “and I know from asshole moms,” for good measure. Internally, she’s berating herself; if she talks about her mom, she’s terrified that she’s eventually going to answer questions about her mom, like where she was, and why Lola hates her.

“She’s just a perfectionist, and I don’t think black would suit me anyhow, so it’s not really an issue,” Eileen responds, as if she barely cares that Lola implied her mother was an asshole, and Lola lets herself relax a little, “I’m partial to a french tip,” Eileen holds out her hands to show her own manicure, the pale pink and white practically gleaming, obviously salon done. 

“I coloured Tommy’s nails with sharpie,” Lola says while looking at Eileen’s elegant fingers, and Eileen actually huffs a laugh at that.

“I saw; he’s very proud of them.” 

Something in Lola’s chest tightens at that; Charlotte seemed to be a good enough judge of character, and she liked Eileen well enough, so that, for now, was good enough for Lola.

Perhaps that’s why Lola had taken so long to actually speak to Nikki Sixx, despite both Charlotte and Tommy being adamant they’d get along, Charlotte’s proclamation that Nikki was kind of a tool held her back.

It’s not that she doesn’t know who he is; she’s figured out the guy who sleeps through her English classes, is trying to make an acoustic guitar in shop, and who is part of her music classes - once she’d decided to show up to those - is the same person she’d seen on stage in leather pants back at the pub. The guy who Charlotte had yelled at. A tool. Apart from the week the rumours had started circulating about her, he never paid her much attention, so she never felt the need to introduce herself. If he was a tool, she could leave him well enough alone.

Until the first day of the Winter break, apparently. Though for the record, he was the one who spoke to her.

There were technically two music shops in the local mall, a ten minute walk from Lola’s flat above the diner; she’s glad to be close to the CBD, but it also means she can’t justify asking her dad for a ride when it would take her less time to walk than it would for him to find parking. 

But Monday, December 27th, was absolutely fucking freezing. 

The mall itself is teeming with people looking to spend the money they’d gotten over the holiday period, and the workers had already taken down the gaudy Christmas Tree that had sat in the middle of the food court. 

Lola was there at her father’s behest, sticking up and handing out flyers announcing New Year’s Day as Leo’s grand opening, and that they were hiring. She gives everyone at the food court a flyer, sticks up several in various locations, and thinks about heading back to the food court for a second round, to catch any newcomers, or anyone she may have missed, when she spots the music shops.

Bass and Treble were owned by the same people, however Treble seemed to be geared towards more classical music, with pianos and violins and flutes and all manor of orchestra-esque instruments available, while Bass seemed to be committed to rock and roll. 

Nikki Sixx finds Lola crouched in front of the display of sheet music on sale in Bass. 

“Lola, right?”

Lola stands so fast at his voice that her head spins, but she tries not to let it show. She’s on alert when she looks at him, tense, already scowling, which only deepens when she sees who it is.

“Nikki Sixx,” his name is not a question when it leaves her lips, but he seems pleased rather than concerned, that his reputation apparently preceded him. He nods, and looks over at what she’d been examining. 

“Anything good?” He asked, and Lola looks over her shoulder at the display. She’d been seriously considering a book of Elton John’s hits for piano before he’d come along. 

“Still deciding; why?”

“No reason,” he shrugged, taking his time to look nonchalantly at the various amps nearby, “you look like you’d be into this sort of thing,” he notes, acting all smug and coy and weird; Lola rolled her eyes, but didn’t answer.

“You were at my gig, we’re you? Hanging out with that guy from the gas station, right? Mick?” Something about his tone had Lola on edge and defensive.

“You guys were okay,” she says flatly, making it clear as she can that that’s barely a compliment; Nikki, however, smile widely.

“Glowing review, I’ll add it to our poster,” he smirks, before he finally looks her over, gaze zeroing in on the flyers in her hands, “speaking of -” and he snatches one, not that she’s protesting, that’s another one she doesn’t have to get rid of. Nikki’s reading the flyer and frowning, while Lola lets her attention wander to the various keyboards they have on display.

“Where’s this?” Nikki pipes up, sounding genuinely interested, while Lola’s idly playing scales with one hand on the closest, off keyboard.

“A few blocks away,” Lola still hasn’t quite gotten the hang of the town’s geography, “across the road from The Kings Hotel, where I saw you play -”

“The old MacCready place?”

“It’s Leo’s now,” Lola says, arms crossed, sitting low in her hips as she regards Nikki, and the way he’s going over every little detail of the poster, “Charlotte says you’re a tool.”

“Charlotte just hates that she likes me so much,” Nikki doesn’t even miss a beat before answering, and when he looks up to catch Lola’s reaction, his grin is all teeth. Lola can’t help the slight smile she wears as she takes in his response.

“I can see why,” Lola’s not quite sure what she’s going for with her own response, but it comes out more teasing than cutting, and there’s something in Nikki’s eye, or in his smile, or maybe it’s in his easy laughter, that has her heart beating weird in her chest.

A moment passes between them, a shift in the tone, the energy of the interaction as Lola drops her immediate hostility; she’s been doing that a lot lately, but she tries not to dwell on it. It’s now she gets a proper look at him, at his ripped jeans and all black, leather jacket, hair sprayed to high heavens like he’s about to join Poison; he looks unkempt and mean, and Lola’s kind of really into it.

They’re checking each other out, sizing each other up, and they both seem to find something in the other they like, because Nikki’s grinning at Lola when gaze meets hers again, and she’s smirking right back.

“Take a picture, it’ll last longer,” she tells him, hip cocked for a moment before she saunters past him, knocking into him with her shoulder purposefully. When Nikki stumbles back, he huffs a laugh, and Lola calls over her shoulder, “Leo’s is hiring by the way, Leo himself would probably love a fucker like you.”

[cicaklah]

Fic writer meme

Nicked from @alienfuckeronmain

1) How many works do you have on AO3? 83 as of touched by the feasting tendrils of the night, my first mainline oxventure fic (which no one but me cares about)

2) What's your total AO3 word count?

372k (as of 10th August 2021)

3) How many fandoms have you written for and what are they?

27 though there's a couple of multitags in there. 22 without.

4) What are your top 5 fics by kudos?

look what you made me do - So I'm good at writing fast and being new to fandoms. This paid off for me. I wrote this very quickly and it includes a lot of taylor swift references, including some very oblique ones that I'm pretty proud of. Also its got a great sex scene and some good OCs and the phrase goatus interruptus.

feel you from the inside - my first viral fic! AKA when do you guys do rec? Turns out Stormtroopers have orgies like workouts and superstitions about wanking and Poor Poe Dameron. Never saw it coming. Jas Queen - the sequel to lwymmd. There's so much in this story that I really love, I think the sex scene is one of my best, its symbolic, its funny, it has songs and puppetry and crossdressing! Catch me when I'm falling for you. - again, early to the fandom, reaps the reward. The perfect girlfriend is better, but this was me on a post-ghostbusters high writing science girlfriends

vestis virum facit - this is a reverse striptease/clothing porn/cockblocking geralt for fun and kudoes fic.

5) Do you respond to comments, why or why not?

Probably 99% of them. Only really don't answer ones that are "thanks for sharing" on very old stories.

6) What's the fic you've written with the angstiest ending?

Lolololol consent to be wrecked. I genuinely thought I'd write a sequel after the last Jedi came out so I purposely didn't give them a happy ending. Absolute lols. I also thought I'd be a bnf off the back of it. the amount of humble pie I ate in the aftermath of that story would give me diabetes if it was real. I needed it though, the experience.

However, if there is love at the end of everything is a twilight zone style story, it has the most "bad ending" of all my fics.

7) What's the fic you've written with the happiest ending?

The schmoopiest ending is definitely the rose of terok nor, I kind of almost hate it but it is the point that they have a romance novel ending. Honourable mention to go let the stars watch let them stare...the happy ending is a single line but fuck did I work so hard for it.

8) Do you write crossovers? If so what is the craziest one you've written?

I've written and published two crossovers but I don't think either are crazy really. I wrote never noticed the rain, an X men/Hannibal fusion, and a dS/bsg fusion/crossover called the poets let a generation down that I think everyone in latter-day dS fandom has to write. I wrote a lot of weird ones in my nsfw Fridays days, and I wrote two raffles/star wars crossovers interesting basically just me and one other person. Oh and I have an outline for a Hitman/Bloodborne fic I will never write even though I really, really want to.

9) Have you ever received hate on a fic?

I was the target of dsanon like everyone in latter day ds fandom, and once a peer in swtfa fandom said that one of my stories was rapey (it was not ctbw) and I'm STILL furious about it. Also back in my ff.net trigun days someone said I was "waisting my talent" and I was sad for ages.

10) Do you write smut? If so what kind?

lolololol. I used to exclusively write slash smut, then I moved to femslash smut, now I write 75% het smut. honestly I wonder what happened to me.

11) Have you ever had a fic stolen?

Not that I know of.

12) Have you ever had a fic translated?

Yes! Mostly femslash stories into Chinese, Russian and Thai.

13) Have you ever co-written a fic before?

No. I don't even have a beta. I've discussed it a couple of times but honestly it feels too much like work.

14) What's your all time favourite ship?

Raffles and Bunny, probably. Obviously 47 and Diana are my current otp, (we will always have Mendoza and the launch trailer even if we don't have the lust dlc) and I have other fandoms and I'll always love most of the pairings I've written (sit down johnlock). That said, I think only Raffles and Bunny still give me the fluttery feeling in my chest with how hard I ship them, 12 years since I first read the first pages of the ides of march and lost my mind.

15) What's a WIP that you want to finish but don't think you ever will?

Pioneer au. The last Jedi killed off everything good about star wars, but this was going to be SO iddy and SO brilliant and I'm still SO keen to write it. I might file the serial numbers off it and make it an original story...but its such a star wars story, its such a classic fic, I think it'd just feel like a fic with the names changed. plus, the twist won't work...god fucking damn it Kyle Ron. I'll never get over the loss of that fandom.

16) What are your writing strengths?

Character studies, smut, character studies through smut. Cadence and rhythm of prose. Dumb sex farces.

17) What are your writing weaknesses? Dialogue, pacing, plot, OCs. They're improving though.

18) What are your thoughts on writing dialogue in other languages in a fic?   I think there's only one fic where there's another language that's a plot point, which is in blow a kiss fire a gun, which no one has ever told me was wrong, unlike every single time I try and use Latin for fic titles. I once got Latin so wrong I got so immediately called out for it I ended up using the translation in the gibberish of chapter three of consent to be wrecked.

19) What was the first fandom you wrote for?  Trigun. Well, technically the X files, but I never posted it. Trigun was my first fandom, I was 13, I wrote smut. It is still floating around on the internet and I'm not linking it. You're welcome.

20) What's your favourite fic you've written?

I have a list on my ao3 profile of my faves but it needs updating, but number one probably has to be even steak don't cry. Second place is the rose of terok nor...2019 was a good year for my fic writing. Shout out also to the currently unpublished final part of watch me (its coming!) which I have reread and redrafted so many times and love so much.

I'd love to read other people's, so if you want to, give it a gooooo.

[captainseaweedbrains]

The Dance of the Color Guard, Op. 64 Ch. 4

Katniss and Peeta used to be best friends when they were kids, but now in high school, they're barely on speaking terms. It isn't until they are forced together as the titular star-crossed lovers for their marching band's field show that they will have to face their past mistakes and try to get along if they ever hope of defeating the notorious Capitol Height's Imperial Marching Crusaders in competition.

It's all about winning and if that means pretending to be in love with Peeta Mellark, so be it.

A/N: Thank you to @rosegardeninwinter​ for editing and helping push me to finish! You are the best and any mistakes found are mine. :) 

Start at the beginning on Ao3: X

Ch. 4 Ao3: X

June

“Peeta really isn’t that bad,” Madge said for what felt like the millionth time. Katniss rolled her eyes and flipped the page of her magazine. Ever since learning that Peeta was going to be the Romeo to Katniss’ Juliet, Madge had been defending him every chance she got. “He’s really not. And he’s so smart, Katniss. Picks up on things real quickly. So all this moping around you’ve been doing all week is stupid.”

Katniss frowned and shoved her sunglasses further up her nose, preferring the screams of the children running around them on the pool deck to Madge defending Peeta Mellark to her once again. Was she being overly dramatic about this? Maybe. Was Madge right that Peeta wasn’t as bad as she made him out to be? Perhaps. But it still sucked and she couldn’t stop complaining about it.

“I know you’re Team Peeta,” she sighed, “but would it kill you to see things from my perspective just this once? Isn’t that what girl friends are supposed to do? Side with their other girl friends?”

“Maybe if you were right about him being a bad person, I would,” Madge sniffed, picking up her own gossip magazine to flip through. “But as of right now, you’ve provided me no evidence in support of your claim.” It was times like these Katniss wished her friend wasn’t the daughter of a prestigious lawyer.

“Gale sides with me,” she argued, pointing at her tall friend standing in line between two twelve-year-old kids for their slushies. “Doesn’t that count for anything on my behalf?”

“Gale’s an idiot.”

“An idiot you’re dating.” Madge stuck her tongue out at that, unable to refute her long-standing relationship with Gale and Katniss smiled. Of all the relationships she’d seen throughout the years—and band romances had provided plenty of weird, random romances, the weirdest being Johanna Mason and Melinda “Cashmere” Hewitt—Madge and Gale’s was the only one she saw that made no sense on paper yet made complete sense in person. The spoiled rich girl with a heart of gold and the rough-around-the-edges boy from the bad part of town? She never used to buy it in the movies, thinking the concept too ridiculous, but Madge and Gale proved her wrong time and time again.

Even when they had broken up sophomore year, claiming they were just too different, Katniss was still proven wrong because they couldn’t shut up about each other—griping about how she just didn’t understand and he always has to be right and I can’t believe I lost my virginity to that, a fact Katniss could have gone her whole life not knowing. When they got back together, it was hard to say who was more thrilled about it: the happy couple or Katniss.

“Come on, Madge,” she sighed, flopping back in her lounge seat. “Why must you always be the diplomatic one?”

“Someone has to be between your impulsiveness and Gale’s anarchy attitude.

“Did someone say anarchy?” the anarchist himself joked, handing Madge her lime-flavored slushie with a kiss on the lips for a tip. He handed Katniss her watermelon one and jokingly asked where his tip was. Katniss threw her three dollars at him with a “Keep the change” rebuttal. Gale laughed and pocketed the cash, lifting Madge’s legs up and over onto his lap so he could sit.

“So what did I miss?”

Madge snorted and offered her boyfriend a sip of her slushie. “Here’s a hint: it’s Katniss’ favorite subject.”

Gale rolled his eyes and accepted the drink. “Mellark again?” He took a large sip and winced at the sudden brain freeze, handing the large cup back. “God, I’m so sick of hearing about that guy. Katniss, get over it and move on already.” Even Gale was getting sick of her talking about it? Somehow, that hit lower on the pathetic scale. Gale was her complaining companion. Her bitch buddy. The person she reserved all her annoyances for because she knew he’d have his own trivial things to complain about. Hell, their friendship was founded upon complaining, starting in 8th Grade Science when their teacher kept giving them busy work to cope with the very public scandal of his wife sleeping with their school principal. They complained about everything with each other.

And now even Gale had said enough.

Well this sucked.

“Fine,” she said, not really feeling fine about it. “I won’t talk about it anymore.” Her friends looked doubtful. “I mean it! No more talk of Peeta Mellark and how my whole summer is practically ruined because I have to have extra practices to teach him how to dance on the field. And I’m not going to talk about how that cuts into my shifts at Aunt LuLu’s store, which means my spending money is going to be next to nothing by the time school starts. So if you two ever want to do anything more fun than hanging around the school parking lot, I guess you’re shit out of luck.”

Gale smiled sweetly at Madge. “I’m so glad she’s not talking about it anymore.” Katniss scowled and gave them the middle finger, causing them both to laugh.

“I think you both are very biased over this whole thing,” Katniss said after a while. Gale and Madge didn’t say anything, too focused on tanning and summer reading homework. That didn’t seem to stop Katniss from continuing. “You’re both too friendly with him because of classes and band. He’s gotten to you.”

“One of us is biased,” Gale said, “and it’s not us. It’s you. You’ve hated him for as long as I’ve known you.”

“With good reason!” she huffed, crossing her arms. They didn’t ask her to elaborate on that, already making it clear they were done talking about Peeta Mellark and all the annoyances he brought to her life, and she hated the fact that she did want to keep talking about him. About marching band. About the whole stupid situation. But she kept her promise and kept her mouth shut. 

No one said anything further until Madge declared herself starving and Gale suggested they stuff their faces with greasy burgers and fries at Sae’s.

**********

Sae’s Diner was packed with its usual lunch crowd—men and women from the factories nearby on lunch, sitting at the worn pastel-colored counter; a couple of kids they recognized from school goofing off in the corner booth, shooting straw wrappers off the straws; and a book club filled with women in their fifties discussing some brick of a book over coffee and Sae’s famous blueberry and cream pie sitting in the center of the small diner. The old woman herself smiled warmly at them when they’d walked in, asking if they were wanting the usual. 

“You’re the best, Sae,” Gale thanked as they waved and headed to their booth next to the front door. 

As they waited for their cheeseburgers and chocolate milkshakes, Gale chatted about some war movie he and his brothers saw that sounded god awful boring, no matter how much he tried re-explaining the plot to them. Madge and Katniss rolled their eyes and told him if he wanted to see the movie again so badly, to go see it by himself. “I’m not going to the movies by myself like some weirdo,” he scoffed, taking his hands off the table as the waitress deposited their plates of food and drinks. 

“Why not?” Katniss asked, picking up a french fry to dip into her milkshake. “I do it all the time.” 

“Because you hate people.” 

“So do you.” He shrugged, not having much to argue there, and picked up his burger. 

“So what time is Trinket summoning you tomorrow?” Gale asked, changing the subject completely, and tearing into his burger. Grease dripped down his hands and Madge tossed a pile of napkins at him. He accepted with a smile and slid his side of pickles over to her, something he purposely ordered more of because he knew how much she liked them. Madge happily bit into one, her eyes gazing at him with such adoration, Katniss rolled her eyes. Their coupling was too much for her sometimes. 

“I thought you didn’t want me talking about marching band,” she said innocently enough, taking a bite into her own burger.

“I didn’t want you talking about Mellark,” he said pointedly, wagging a fry at her. “Marching band is different. Less annoying and less boy drama. So what time does Miss Cream Puff have you coming in?”

It irritated her that Gale simplified her great dislike for Peeta Mellark as mere boy drama because it was far more complicated than that, but there was no point trying to explain it to Gale. He understood a lot about her, but when it came to Peeta… Well, it was best to let him believe whatever he wanted. “Eight a.m. sharp,” she said sourly, dipping another french fry into her milkshake.

Gale winced. “That sucks. Why so early?” 

“Peeta couldn’t get out of working his afternoon shifts and it was either that or not have a single weekend off until November.” She was still bitter about the change in schedule. Originally Miss Trinket wanted them twice a week outside of color guard’s normal rehearsal times, but with Peeta’s work schedule not being as flexible as Katniss’, she’d decided to make it morning rehearsals and make those shorter, which forced them to add another day of rehearsal to make up for the cut time. Now instead of having rehearsal four times a week, Katniss had five with her weekends full of shifts at Aunt LuLu’s shop for the extra cash she desperately needed. This summer was going to blow.

“I still think you should’ve been picked for Juliet,” Katniss told Madge teasingly. “You and Gale, maybe?” she cooed. “The true star-crossed lovers of Athens Ridge.” 

Gale scowled. “I’d rather drop dead than have to deal with Trinket when she’s in choreographer mode. She’s a total tyrant.” 

“She’s not so bad once you get used to her.” 

“Tell me what you think after dealing with her for a whole season, oh captain, my captain.” 

Point taken.

Much like at the pool, they talked for a bit about things going on in their lives—Madge taking some online French class because her grades last semester weren’t great; Gale’s successful find for parts with Thom in the junkyard. Katniss didn’t say much as she munched on her burger and fries, afraid Madge would lecture her again on Peeta Mellark and her inability to let things go with him. That and she promised she was done talking about him. But outside of marching band and him, not much was going on in her life. She felt a bit pathetic about that. 

Conversation picked up when Sae came over, asking how things were doing. The three smiled at the old woman, happy to fill her in on all the small details of their lives. Sae was the unofficial grandmother of the Seam. Always there to show her support for her kiddos. Her small diner was covered with pictures of sports teams she’s sponsored over the years, pictures of her and kids dressed in dance gear, holding certificates. 

“Did you hear the news about Katniss, Sae?” Madge asked when the topic of marching band came up. Sae was always interested in that, loving watching her talented kids play as they wove around the field. “She’s going to be our Juliet this year! Isn’t that exciting?” 

Sae’s grey eyes warmed, turning to Katniss. “Is that so? Captain and the lead part?” She shook her head in astonishment, her salt and peppered colored hair coming loose from her hair tie. “You were always so talented with those flags. I’m not surprised. Who’s your Romeo?” 

“Peeta Mellark.” The name felt lodged in her throat, but thankfully, it squeezed out without too much of a squeak in her voice. 

Sae didn’t know all the kids on the west side, but she definitely knew Peeta. He would often tag along with her and her dad on their trips to the woods, stopping at the diner after for hot chocolate and pie. In fact, his picture was one of the first ones you saw coming in—Sae and six-year-old Peeta smiling at the camera, her arm around him as he proudly held up his lost baby tooth. Her dad had taken the picture, she remembered, and if the camera’s lens had shifted a little more to the right, it would have also captured five-year-old Katniss pouting on the side, upset that he kept losing his baby teeth when she’d lost none. It was a picture her gaze avoided whenever they visited Sae’s, unable to stomach the sight of an old friend turned asshole, the memory of her dad’s laughter as he took the photo. 

“Oh, Peeta,” Sae chuckled, the familiar twinkle she always got in her eyes when he was around. The old woman doted on him when they were kids and he ate up her attention like there was no tomorrow. “How is that boy? Staying out of mischief, I hope?” 

Gale and Madge looked to her with knowing smiles, wondering what she would say. Katniss cleared her throat and looked down at her half-eaten plate for a moment. “Fine, I guess. We don’t hang out anymore. You know that, Sae.” 

She did know that, but it never stopped her from asking whenever he came up. “Aye, girl, I do. I suppose you aren’t happy with Effie Trinket’s choice, then?” 

Gale snorted. “Happy? More like obsessively pissed. She hasn’t shut up about it since May.” She glared at her friend and he shrugged, popping a fry in his mouth. “What? You haven’t.” 

Sae gave one of her warm, crooked teeth smiles. “Maybe this is the push you kiddos need to kiss and make up.” Katniss’ cheeks warmed at the mention of kisses, remembering Leevy’s comment how they were so going to have sex by the end of the year. She still hadn’t fully forgiven her friend for that suggestion.

“I’m afraid that’s impossible, Sae,” she said, her voice still a little strained. “We’re just too different.”  

“Ah, well. I suppose we grow in different directions sometimes,” the woman sighed with a shake of her head. A woman from the book club table called for her and Sae gave them a parting wave and smile. “Tell Peeta ol’ Sae misses her boy and that he needs to come in more. I haven’t seen him in ages.”

Katniss pointedly avoided Gale and Madge’s amused smirks, focusing on the burger in front of her. “I’ll be sure to pass the message along,” she muttered, taking a big bite of her food to avoid continuing this conversation. She loved Sae. Thought of her like a grandmother. But there was no way in hell was she telling Peeta that. No way. Then he’d think she was gushing about him to anyone who would listen, thrilled to be his Juliet, a role many girls at school would kill for (Probably. Maybe. She thinks.), and then his stupid ego would just get bigger and he’d be even more obnoxious to deal with. No, best not to mention anything and lie next time she saw Sae. 

A small part felt guilty at that, though, because Sae was like a grandma who wanted the best for her, and Peeta too, she guessed, but again, Sae didn’t know what happened between them. And Katniss wasn’t going to fill her in on their broken history six years too late. 

Her phone next to her plate vibrated, signifying a text message just came in. Wiping her greasy hands, Katniss frowned, picking up her phone. Who was texting her? Everyone who’d text her was either sitting right across from her or were busy at work or camp. The little text message lit up at her touch, showing it was from an unknown number, and her frown turned into a scowl as she read it. 

Hey!!!!!!!!!1!1111!!!!!!! the message read with a thousand typo-filled exclamation marks. God, who text like that? Trinket gave me ur ######## Hope thats cool. Thought Id give mine!!!!!!!111111 🤗 Ill see u  Mon dearest Juliet ❤️❤️❤️❤️!!!!!!!!!!!!111!😘😘😘😘!!!111!!!!!! 

For the briefest of seconds, Katniss swore her vision blacked out. One moment she was staring at her phone. The next, darkness. Like her brain couldn’t process the simple text on her phone and chose to shut down instead. When her vision cleared, the message was still there, glaring brightly at her with those thousand exclamation/number marks. 

Peeta Mellark texted her. He had her number.

         Her stomach churned and now she feared that what her mother always warned about Sae’s greasy food would come true now and she’d throw it all up. 

Peeta Mellark texted her. It was truly official. He had her number and she had his and they were partners now. If she had any doubts about this whole thing before—as if she had dreamt the last four weeks of her life—they were wiped clean now. Replaced with this typo-filled text message from the very boy who hurt her. 

“You okay?” Madge asked.

Katniss nodded and clicked out of the message, tossing the phone into her bag. She’d deal with it later.

[mcwriting]

The Marriage Project (3)

Anddddd I’m back with this bby. Sorry I’ve been slowing down some of my content. Last Friday I had to deal with family health matters on top of schoolwork and a sorority function I had to be at. Anyways. 

High school AU. Tom Holland. Yeah.

Story Masterlist

Warnings: mild language

Rating: Between T and M

Word Count: 2351

% approximately the 3rd week of September %

You’d had two away volleyball games that week and Tom had an away football game, so by Saturday you were exhausted. Your Friday game hadn’t been too far, but the football team had traveled a decent distance, so you figured they’d gotten home late.

You still showed up at Tom’s on time, though, as planned the day before.

Nikki opened the door at your arrival.

“Oh, hey, y/n! Come on in!”

You returned her greeting and entered, looking around expectantly.

“If you’re looking for Tom, he’s not up yet. They got home pretty late last night.”

“I figured that would be the case.”

You noticed that on the dining room table were a few grocery bags.

“Oh, do you need help with those? I can wait on Tom,” you offered.

“No don’t worry about those bags, but if you’re looking to do something, I was about to make some apple pies for a get together tomorrow. I’d love your help.”

You agreed and followed her into the kitchen. After peeling and chopping apples for a few minutes, someone else walked into the kitchen.

“Well who’s this? I don’t remember having a daughter,” Tom’s dad said. You turned to look at him and smile, then continued cutting fruit.

“Oh Dominic you know y/n. She’s the one Tom’s always talking about, competing and whatnot. They’re doing that marriage project together.”

Your face heated up so you continued to look down at the apple.

He talks about me? Like how much he hates me or what?

“Yes of course, how could I forget? You’re one of the best soccer players I’ve seen! Good to see you again,” he said.

“Nice seeing you, too, Mr. Holland.”

“Please, call me Dom. Now how come you’re down here and not with Tom?”

“I was waiting for him to get up. Plus, Nikki promised me a slice,” you grinned.

“Well I’d definitely call that a fair trade. Nikki’s pies are the best in the world,” he turned to his wife, “I’ll be back in a bit. I’m meeting with the publisher today.”

“Good luck, honey. I’m sure you’ll be great,” Nikki encouraged, giving her husband a quick peck.

“Thanks, dear. Once again, it was nice seeing you, y/n. Feel free to come make desserts here any time,” he joked and you just laughed and waved.

A few minutes after he’d left, Nikki spoke up again.

“You know, y/n. I’m glad you and Tom were paired up for this project. I’ve really liked having you around the past few weeks, and it seems like Tom has learned a lot from you. I mean, He even went out and bought some pads and tampons and things for his bathroom this week.”

Now your face really burned. 

“He did?”

“Yeah. He said he’d better be safe than sorry. I’m glad you two look out for each other like that, even if you are rivals. By the way, I made sure he didn’t get the cardboard ones,” she added. With that, you fell into rhythmic silence.

Not long after, you heard footsteps coming down the stairs. From the hall, Tom’s voice called out.

“Mom? It’s almost 2. Have you heard anything from-” he walked through the kitchen door. “Oh. You’re here. What are you doing?”

You grabbed a towel to wipe off your hands as you turned to face him.

“I got here at 1 but felt bad about you getting home late so I’ve just been helping your mom make pie. She promised me a slice.”

“You’re really gonna give her some mom? She doesn’t even deserve to see how they’re made!”

“Oh Tom I swear. Y/n is a nice girl, just get over yourself. But, if you two want to go get to work I think I’ve got it handled from here. I’ll bring you both some when the first one’s done.”

You grabbed your bag and headed up behind Tom and got to work quickly. Eventually you took a break when Nikki brought up pie and ice cream as promised with a couple waters. 

You ate in silence, Tom leaned against his bed and you against the wall across from him, when something she had said earlier popped into your head.

“Hey, Tom?”

“Yeah princess?” he replied, not looking up. You rolled your eyes and continued.

“Your mom said something earlier that I wanted to ask about.”

“If she told you anything incriminating it’s not true.”

“Suuuureeee. Anyways, she said you, uh, stocked up your cabinet in the bathroom. That’s really cool of you.”

“Yeah, well, can’t have you bleeding everywhere now can we? But, em. Yeah. The fact that you were so panicked over something that seems so trivial spoke pretty loud. I thought it’s better to just stay safe.”

You sat in silence for a little bit, just eating.

“Mind if I ask you something?” he said.

“Shoot.”

“What does it feel like? You know? They don’t mention that stuff in health articles.”

You contemplated for a little bit before answering.

“Well… like I said before, it’s different for everyone, but I’ll try my best. Cramps are kinda like being scratched and punched from the inside all at once. Freebleeding just feels like… wet and sticky. I find it disgusting so I wear mostly tampons.”

“Interesting. Thanks, princess.”

Once finishing off your snack, you got back to work. By the time you were done, it was almost 4.

“See you Monday, y/n”

“Yep. Oh, by the way, I have a small volleyball tournament next weekend so I can’t do Saturday. Is Sunday okay or do you wanna get together another day?”

“Can you do Thursday? We just have morning workouts that day.”

“Yeah I have practice last period so I’ll just shower and meet you in the parking lot? We can go to my place.”

“Can’t. I have to take the boys home.”

“If you want, you can take them home and I’ll pick you up. It’ll give me time to shower and change and then we can just carpool.”

“I don’t know. Sure you even know how to drive?”

“I’ll have you know I passed that test with flying colors sophomore year.”

Eventually he agreed and with that you were back out the door, giving one final thanks to Nikki.

%

By Wednesday you and Tom had finished your little quilt and Mrs. Flynn loved it. 

You and Tom obviously didn’t play when it came to grades, even if it was home economics.

Thursday, you were leaving your last class before practice and reminded Tom you were picking him up that afternoon, to which his friends looked at him funny and kinda messed with him.

“Yeah, yeah, whatever.”

When you pulled up into his driveway after school, he plopped into the passenger's seat and held out a foil-wrapped object in his left hand.

“What is that?” you asked.

“My mom wanted you to have it. She made bread.”

“Oh. Well thanks. I’ll have to thank her for it next time I see her. You can just set it in the back seat for now.”

You drove back to your place, pulling into the garage and leading Tom through the door. Your parents were still at work, so you told Tom you’d just work in the living room.

“I don’t want them to say anything weird about us being home alone in my room,” you explained.

You sat on the floor quietly typing when you remembered something.

“Hey, how did you do on the calc test?”

“95. You?”

“Damn. 94. I’ll make a comeback next time,” you joked, earning an eye roll.

After a half hour, your mom came home.

“Hey honey, how was your day? Did you beat Tom in whatever you were competing with him in today?” she asked, part joking since she knew of your rivalry well.

“It was fine, and mom. We have a guest, remember?” you said through gritted teeth.

She looked over the couch, where she found Tom waving at her awkwardly.

“Oh. Hi there. I forgot you were coming over today. So sorry about that.”

“No worries, Mrs. y/l/n. I beat her by a point today so it evens out,” he joked. You were annoyed at his banter with your mom and cut it off.

“Okay, well, Tom. Let’s go finish this in my room now that my mom’s home,” you said, getting everything and carrying it to the bedroom.

You tossed your bag and papers on the floor and quickly picked up some random things laying around, such as a pair of volleyball shoes and stray athletic socks. You especially rushed to snatch a rogue lace bra.

From the corner of your eye, you could see Tom standing still, looking around the room like you had the first time at his house.

Your walls were light grey but covered in your paintings and other art. One shelf mounted to a wall held all of your ribbons and trophies from sports, quiz bowl, and art fairs. Your bedspread was baby pink and sheets light yellow, and the same pink was strewn around the room in the form of desk accents and other blankets. You had a large plush cat resting near your pillows.

“Wow. So you’re like… a real girl. Huh.” he stated flatly. You stood up from tossing everything into your closet.

“What the hell is that supposed to mean?”

“Well, like, you’re all tough and smart and sporty but you have pink everywhere and a stuffed animal on your bed.”

“You do realize women are complex creatures right? Considering we’re human and all?”

“Yeah, of course. I guess I’ve just never seen this side of you. I shouldn’t have worded it that way. Sorry.”

It surprised you to hear Tom apologize over something so small. Usually he would stand his ground, wave you off, or just move on. 

“It’s fine. I just hate when people stereotype, you know? Like I can love science, art, sports, pink, sweatpants, and skirts all at the same time. And I do. And I’m not trying to sound like the ‘I’m not like other girls’ girl, because I am a girl, but I’m more than just one side or the other.”

“So why do you hide the ‘typically girly’ stuff? I’ve never seen you at school wearing a pink dress and makeup. I mean even at dances you always wear dark colors and at parties I don’t think I’ve ever seen you in something other than jeans or shorts.”

You shrugged as you made your way onto the floor next to your computer, Tom following suit.

“I guess I try to stick to one aesthetic. I mean, it already seems to shock the administration that I’m good at and enjoy doing two sports, art, and honors stuff. I don’t think they could handle another layer of me,” you chuckled. “Isn’t there anything you hide?”

He thought about it for a few seconds, leaning his head against the wall.

“Well, I guess you know this now, but I like Spider-Man.”

“Yeah, but it’s considered normal for guys to like comic book characters. When I tell people I like Spider-Man, they just assume I have a crush on the actor. Come on, there has to be something you don’t show off at school.”

“Okay fine. I’ve got a couple. One, I actually like to cook. A lot. It almost kills me to be partnered up with the guys sometimes because they’re so clueless in the kitchen. And two, I love dance. I did it for a bit as a kid but got embarrassed and decided to go the normal sports route. I still go to the Nutcracker every year, though.”

You found yourself smiling at his honesty.

“Really? You know my mom put me in little kid ballet classes for a while, but I was really disruptive in class because I had too much energy, so I got into other sports instead. Has the football team never done a ballet class? I know some schools make them.”

“One summer. Maybe two years ago? We were doing a team building thing and they made us take one. I couldn’t make myself pretend to be bad so I just let everyone believe I was a natural talent,” he laughed, causing you to do the same. “You should’ve seen those guys. That’s probably one of my best football memories.”

You both sit in comfortable silence for a while. You couldn’t remember a time that you both were open to each other without the slightest bit of tension.

After a few more moments, you both got back to work.

%

You didn’t realize that it was past 5 o’clock until your mother was at your doorway telling you dinner was ready.

“Feel free to stay. We’d love to have you for dinner, Tom,” she offered, then went back to the kitchen. 

“Do you mind? I can just walk home if not.”

“Just stay, man. What’s one dinner? I’d feel at least somewhat bad to make you walk all the way home. We’re done for the week anyways, so I’ll just drive you after we eat.”

You led him to the kitchen, where your mom had cooked some ravioli and tossed a salad. You built your plates and thanked your mom, then sat at the dining room table.

You ate in awkward silence since your parents were in the living room. Your dad had greeted you and Tom when he came home from work, not really realizing who Tom was.

Once your plates were practically cleaned, you cleared the table and took Tom home.

“Thanks again for dinner and driving me. Good luck this weekend.”

Who is this guy and where did he take Tom? He never wishes me luck.

“Yeah no problem. Thank your mom for the bread. And good luck on your game tomorrow, too. I hear it’s gonna be a tough one.”

”They just haven’t met me yet,” he joked, then got out of the car and headed to the door. He tossed one last wave back as you pulled away.

%

A/N: I’m happy to be posting the next part and with the free time that I have at the moment of formatting this I’m hoping that I can reedit ch 4 and have it up by next week. As always, love you all and thanks for reading!

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Story Tag List: @jackiehollanderr, @one-big-fangirl, @l0lmk, @primadonnasdream, @bookworm06, @thenoddingbunny-blog

[max1461]

Just read Scott Alexander’s post on “conflict theorists” vs. “mistake theorists” and, hmm. I have several thoughts. First, to summarize the concept for anyone who hasn’t seen it before: Alexander links to a reddit post by user u/no_bear_so_low, who originated the idea, saying

There is a way of carving up politics in which there are two basic political meta-theories, that is to say theories about why different political ideologies and political conflict exist. The first theory is that political disagreements exist because politics is complex and people make mistakes, if we all understood the evidence better, we’d agree on a great deal more. We’ll call this the mistake theory of politics. For the mistake theorist, politics is not a zero-sum game, but a matter of growing the pie so there is more for everyone. The second theory is that political disagreements reflect differences in interests which are largely irreconcilable. We’ll call this the conflict theory of politics. According to the conflict theory of politics, politics is full of zero-sum games.

u/no_bear_so_low claims that both the far left and far right are more amenable to conflict theory than liberals are, who lean more towards mistake theory. Alexander seems to agree, though in his own post he’s speaking mainly about Marxists in particular. He summarizes the concept as follows:

To massively oversimplify:

Mistake theorists treat politics as science, engineering, or medicine. The State is diseased. We’re all doctors, standing around arguing over the best diagnosis and cure. Some of us have good ideas, others have bad ideas that wouldn’t help, or that would cause too many side effects.

Conflict theorists treat politics as war. Different blocs with different interests are forever fighting to determine whether the State exists to enrich the Elites or to help the People.

In addition, Alexander subdivides the categories further into “hard” and “soft” versions:

Consider a further distinction between easy and hard mistake theorists. Easy mistake theorists think that all our problems come from very stupid people making very simple mistakes; dumb people deny the evidence about global warming; smart people don’t. Hard mistake theorists think that the questions involved are really complicated and require more evidence than we’ve been able to collect so far [...]

Maybe there’s a further distinction between easy and hard conflict theorists. Easy conflict theorists think that all our problems come from cartoon-villain caricatures wanting very evil things; bad people want to kill brown people and steal their oil, good people want world peace and tolerance. Hard conflict theorists think that our problems come from clashes between differing but comprehensible worldviews.

So what do I think about all this?

Well, it seems to me that this framework is (a) a fairly reasonable descriptive dichotomy, in the sense that, yes, a lot of people do genuinely seem to fall into one of these two camps, and (b) a horrible dichotomy on which to base any prescriptions about political meta-theory, in that these are both awful (and obviously wrong) ways to think about the world. Now, Alexander doesn’t explicitly give any such prescriptions, but he does describe SCC as “hard mistake theorist central”, and generally speaks of mistake theory in approving terms, while speaking of conflict theory in disapproving ones. I think this is bad.

At a base level, my problem with both these “theories” is that they’re, in some sense, just too optimistic.

I agree, for example, with the hard mistake theorist sentiment that the world is full of extremely challenging technical problems, that these problems can be the source of real human suffering, and that the only way to address these problems is through data collection and empirical analysis and hard technical work. And I agree that this will often produce unintuitive conclusions, that run against people’s gut sense of what the right policy might look like. I agree that the state is diseased. I do not agree that “[w]e’re all doctors, standing around arguing over the best diagnosis and cure.” People, it turns out, often do have genuinely different and irreconcilable values, and genuinely do envision different ideal worlds. In addition to that fairly mundane observation, there genuinely are a lot of bad actors, who are just in the game for their own benefit. The world is full of grifters, schemers, and petty (or not so petty) tyrants; on an empirical level that’s just not something you can deny.

On the other hand, I agree with the easy conflict theorist sentiment that, e.g., “bad people want to kill brown people and steal their oil.” There’s plenty of pretty immediate proof of that to be found if you look into the history of colonialism¹, or the slave trade, or US foreign election interference in the twentieth century. Actually, just so I’m not pissing anybody off by only mentioning “western” examples, I’ll include the Khmer Rouge and the Holodomor and comfort women and uh, you get the picture. For god’s sake, the Nazis really existed, and yeah, they really believed all that Nazi shit. In retrospect they may seem like implausibly evil cartoon villains, but in fact they were real flesh and blood humans, just like the rest of us. You think that was just a one-off?

And on a much more mundane note, sometimes (actually, very very often), ordinary people just have incompatible ethical axioms. Sometimes people have genuinely different values, and there are no rational means to sort out which value-set to choose. I suspect this is at least part of the reason for the rationalist community’s skew towards mistake theorizers, in that their favored intellectual tool has more-or-less nothing to offer when it comes to selecting your values (=ethical axioms, =terminal goals, etc). I mean, of course rationality is good for diagnosing contradictions in your value set, but it can’t tell you how to resolve those contradictions. That’s the domain of intuition, empathy, and aesthetics, were data cannot light your way.

However, I do not agree with the conflict theorists’ underlying sentiment that if “the good people” were just in charge, everything would be better. After all, there are all those pesky technical problems with unintuitive solutions getting in the way, requiring all kinds of expertise and thorough empirical study and uh, plenty of them might not even be solvable.² This is a huge deal. It’s incredibly easy to have the best of intentions and still make horrible mistakes by virtue of just... happening to have the facts wrong. Not through malice, or self-interest, or even some nicely-explainable sociological bias like white fragility or whatever. Just because problems are hard, and sometime you will fail to solve them. Even when people’s lives and livelihoods are at stake.

Here’s a handy latex-formatted table for your comprehending pleasure:

lol, we live there.

So this all sounds a bit pessimistic and, well, I suppose it is. I think we have a responsibility to acknowledge the gravity of our situation. We could, conceivably, live in a world that was structured according to either the conflict theorist’s vision or the mistake theorist’s vision, but we don’t. We live in a much scarier world, and if we don’t face that terrifying reality head-on, we’re not going to be able to overcome it.

Now, in general, I’d say I spend a lot of my internet-argument-energy-allowance trying to persuade [what I perceive to be] overly conflict-theorizing leftists in the direction of a greater recognition of the genuine technical difficulty of the problems we face. It's probably worth making a separate post about why I think a “denial of unintuitive solutions” is so common on the left, but I’ll just mention here that I think it relates to what I once jokingly called the “Humanistic gaze”. That is, the bias to view everything quite narrowly through the lens of the humanities, and to view all problems as fundamentally sociological in nature. When the world is constructed entirely by humans and human social relations, there’s a level at which nothing can be unintuitive. After all, an intersubjective world must ultimately be grounded in subjective experience, and subjective experience is literally made of intuition.

I usually don’t spend much time pursuing the dual activity (trying to argue liberals out of [what I perceive to be] an overly mistake-theorizing perspective). This is largely because, well, I think the optimistic assumption that mistake theorists make —that most people have basically compatible goals, and that relatively few people are working out of abject self-interest or hatred or whatever— is so obviously false that it doesn’t warrant as much genuine critique as it warrants responding with memes about US war crimes. The principal of charity is best extended to ideas, not people or institutions. You can take the neocons’ arguments seriously without extending charity to the neocons as agents.

The post concludes with Alexander writing

But overall I’m less sure of myself than before and think this deserves more treatment as a hard case that needs to be argued in more specific situations. Certainly “everyone in government is already a good person, and just has to be convinced of the right facts” is looking less plausible these days.

And uh, yeah. Indeed.

So, in conclusion: is politics medicine, or is it war? No, it’s politics.

There are disagreements, and conflicts of interest, and coalition building, and policy-wonkery, and logistics. There is, as with anything involving the state, the implicit threat of violence. (That’s where the state’s power comes from, remember? Whether it’s their power to tax, or their power to enforce individual property rights to begin with. Their power to regulate or build infrastructure or legally construct corporate personhood or whatever. There’s more than a bit of game theory involved, sure, but the rules of the game are set through the armory.) Every scholarly technocrat with double-blind peer reviewed policy suggestions still ultimately just decides who the guns get pointed at, if at several layers of abstraction. Every righteous people’s vanguard is still bound by the mathematics of production and the dynamics of a chaotic world. There are no easy solution, not conceptually easy nor practically easy. And unless we recognize that on a very deep level, we have no chance of fixing anything.

[1] I’d quote my go-to example here, of the truly ghastly stories relayed to linguist R. M. Dixon by the Dyirbal people of Australia about their subjugation at the hands of white settlers, but unfortunately I don’t have his book with me at the moment. Also this post would require several additional trigger warnings.

[2] I mean, after all, there are only countably many Turing machines, and the set of all languages with finitely many symbols has cardinality 2^(aleph_0)!

[askcharaandfriends]

lets say for some reason the afac tumblr blog show up what reaction ould thay have?

Like everyone from the AFAC blog?? All at once? Well we have a crossover planned but I think *everyone* going over at once would break something. So here's some hypothetical meet up responses based on what I think the characters would do. F[person] is from AFAC. C[person] is from ACAF. F for Frisk. C for Chara. This hypothetical interaction takes place post memelord. This is also assuming Frisk is a little more mellow now and not about to cause trouble immediately but still not fully "reformed" but people are hypothetically chill with them.

F. Frisk: Hello new world! It's good to be here! I wonder what other me is like this time!? I hope they're nice! I bet they're nice!

C. Frisk (appearing in front of them): What are you and why do you look like me but alive and so... sunshiny...

F. Frisk: ooo you're a ghost?? So you died? I'm so sorry! But how does it feel? Is it weird being a ghost? Are you doing ok? Did you ever think about becoming a Skeleton monster? My friend Chara was a ghost and then they became a Skeleton monster! Maybe you can do that!!

C Frisk: (sarcastically) ooo you're human?? So you're alive? I'm so sorry! But how does it feel? Is it weird being made of flesh? Are you doing ok? Did you ever think about dying? Did you consider eating a pie of buttercups?This is you. This is how you sound. Do you think before you speak?

F. Frisk: Oh.... so it's that kind of world, huh? One where I'm in Chara's place and Chara is in my place? Kinda... swapped or something?

C.Frisk: What are you talking about?

F. Frisk: I don't think I can tell you because spoilers, but just know everything will be ok! It'll all work out! Oh! And if Chara makes you a strawberry ghost cake, you should eat it because they worked really hard on it!

C. Frisk: thanks???

***

F. Chara: You're alive? Ok... [thinking] (I wonder if it's like that one time or something else... awe man, I hope I wasn't rude just now. I would find that very rude and make a sarcastic comment. I hope they are not as like me as they look... for multiple reasons)

C. Chara: Um well, greetings. Welcome to this world? [Looks at the Frisks, then looks back at F. Chara] So, your Frisk is alive but you are a Skeleton and you were surprised that I was alive. I'm just guessing here, but I think maybe you're like switched with Frisk or something?

F. Chara [relieved]: or something eh heh...

C. Chara: judging by the fact that you're a Skeleton and not trying to um... hurt people I'm guessing you've gone through some character arcs and now you're cool? Please be cool. My Frisk just did this um... possession thing?? But there were like memes or something and a rainbow dance??? And it was cool but also weird. You're not going to do that here, right? (Though I guess you can't because you're not a ghost anymore... )

F. Chara [cringing from their past]: no. I promise to be good.

C. Chara: oh! Ok cool! We're cool then! Would you... like to see my chocolate stash? It's all magic chocolate, so you shouldn't have a problem with it.

F. Chara [finally relaxing into themselves]: is that even a question? =)

C. Chara: =)

***

F. Papyrus: Greetings! I am the Great Papyrus! You also Look like Papyrus! Is that true? Are you another Papyrus?

C. Papyrus: i am. though maybe not as great. you look good Papyrus. you seem happy.

F. Papyrus: I am! Lots of good things have happened to me in my world! I made lots of friends! I have a boyfriend! I am captain of the royal guard!

C. Papyrus: is that so? sounds nice! you've really got it figured out, huh? i'm happy for you. [He is sincere, but a little sadness creeps in]

F. Papyrus: Thank you Papyrus! But um... are you doing ok? I know I, the Great Papyrus can go with very little sleep sometimes, but you seem like you have gone a very long time with very little sleep. I am sure, as Papyrus, you can handle it. But even Papyrus's need rest sometimes.

C. Papyrus: you know me too well, Papyrus. i do have trouble sleeping at night sometimes. but i try to make up for it by napping.

F. Papyrus: Egad! A Papyrus, Napping! It's worse than I feared! You, Papyrus, and I, Papyrus are going off to have a "self care day"! Literally because we are caring for our "selves"! Nyeh heh heh!

C. Papyrus: good one, Papyrus. ok. you know what, yes. i will take you up on that "self" care day.

F. Papyrus: That's the spirit, Papyrus! You are looking better already! Nyeh heh heh! [F. Papyrus scoops C. Papyrus up and runs off]

***

C. Sans: There they go... Looks like fun! Do you wanna do that too?

F. Sans: nah. let's just... hang out for a sec. so, you're me, huh? i heard there was a lot of us out there- many much Sansi. how do you feel about that? knowing that there are so many other versions of "you?" not knowing which one is the "real" you. realizing you might not be the best version of "you." that you could even be one of the worst-

C. Sans: Hold on there, pal. Your spiraling in negativity. This is also "me" you're talking about, you know? You're going to hurt my feelings.

F. Sans: oh! um... sorry. i didn't mean it like that. it's just weird to think about i guess.

C. Sans: It's ok, Buddy. I'm thinking maybe you have your reasons for thinking like that. Some bad things that happened in the past, like what happened to my brother. He gets like this sometimes. I will tell you what I tell him: Sometimes bad thoughts come because of what happened and that's ok- normal even. Having bad thoughts doesn't make you a bad person. Just don't dwell on those thoughts too long. When you realize you are having bad thoughts you should take a step back and examine them. Then shoo them away with thoughts about things you like: your brother, for example.

F Sans: that's... really good advice. thanks, me.

C Sans: No problemo, amigo. We're both pretty Sansational after all!

F Sans: eeyyyy! [Finger guns]

C Sans: Eeyyy! [Finger guns]

***

F Gaster: I have seen many Gasters from my time in the void (and one in person). They varied vastly in form and personality. You however, look a lot like me except...

C Gaster: i am a ghost in a cloak? yes... i see your Hermann is like this as well. so you experimented on your own wife?

F Gaster: Did you have to say it like that? I was desperate!

C Gaster (in a more informal accent): relax, mate. i was only jokin'. i would do the same thin' in your place. ( i mean i am you after all, ain't i?) i already forgave my wife for what she did to me, so i'm not about to give ya a 'ard time. it must've been rough, imagining livin' without her. you did what made sense, even if it didn't make sense. does that make sense?

F Gaster: um...

C Gaster: brilliant! how about i make you some orange tea? i know i like that.

F Gaster: I did, but I had a rather unfortunate accident involving said tea, and I haven't liked it very much since.

C Gaster: let me guess, piranhas?

F Gaster: How did you know??

C Gaster [nods sagely]: my Hermann had the same exact problem not too long ago, except our piranhas are fond of lemons. hate oranges though. maybe you should try orange tea again, if you are going to be staying a while- just in case.

F Gaster [thinking of the lemonade he had earlier]: Yes ok, let's try it then.

C Gaster: Great! you can give me your insight on my latest scifi idea! i'm thinking it will be a buddy comedy about this one guy and his doppelganger from another universe and their hilarious hijinks and misadventures!

F Gaster [nervously]: Greeeaaat...

***

F Hermann: Ok, Ok, So you're like me, but like a science nerd like mí amore, sí?

C Hermann: Cierto. I guess you are an author/ comedian like my husband? However... he writes scifi. If I was an author, my preferred genre to write would be...

F Hermann: ;3

C Herman: Mira a tú cara! It is that, isn't it?!

F Herman: ;3

C Herman: nice. Podemos leer eso? -3- you did bring some of your books, didn't you?

F Hermann: I thought you would never ask. I have a few of my favorites in my phone's box .

C Hermann: vamos a mí cuarto. Just so we can talk about it without...

F Hermann: of course. Let's go.

***

[I hope my spanish was good. That's all I will do for now. It was a lot of writing, but it was fun]