#this is objectively the worst part of living in lots of different places and then finally putting down roots in one

[thatswhatsushesaid]

Top fave foods?

ooops sorry anon i have no idea how i missed this?? okay let’s go:

shredded peking duck with scallions and hoisin sauce. used to enjoy them on the little pancakes you get from takeout places but alas, they are not gluten-free, and gluten hates me. also i can’t ever find any peking duck outside of the uk that tastes the same as it does at the place down the street from my uncle’s outside london. rip.

buttermilk biscuits + white sawmill gravy, which i also can only enjoy ever again if i find decent gluten-free recipes for them. actually just… just assume anything on this list that has gluten in it can only be enjoyed by me hypothetically. anyway this is objectively the tastiest delicacy from the deep south in the US, i’ll die on this hill.

pecan pie, as baked by my mother, who uses an ungodly amount of both sugar and butter. (i almost chose peach cobbler, god, this was hard.)

squash casserole, a comfort food from my childhood.

montreal-style bagels from st. viateur in quebec 🙌

[stevieschrodinger]

Link to Part One

Link to Part Two

TW mentions of human trafficking, rescue, injury, trauma

Steve locks Eddie in the car which, yeah, okay, it makes Eddie jump a little reflexively at the quiet click of the lock. And it might just be habit, or whatever, because it’s a really nice car.

Or maybe he’s even doing it for Eddie’s safety.

It still feels like he’s been locked in, though, and Eddie finds he’s...really not a fan of how this feels.

Either way, when Steve comes back less than ten minutes later and opens Eddie’s side of the car, Eddie’s still not sure how to feel about it. Suspicion is hard to shake.

Steve kneels right there on the floor of the lot, “swing around,” Eddie does, watching as Steve pulls antiseptic wipes out of the bottom of the bag, opening a packet and lifting Eddie’s foot. Eddie hisses when the wipe makes contact, it’s cold and, even though surely most of the wounds have scabbed by now, it still stings quite a bit, “sorry.” Steve looks up at Eddie earnestly, big eyes and floppy hair and, well, the moles are cute.

And having an Alpha kneel on the floor for him, that’s kind of nice too. Maybe Steve really is that good looking.

He wraps Eddie’s feet in a bandage, some tube bandage over the top, Eddie still slurping on his peanut butter chocolate shake. He’s going to have the absolute worst shit later, he knows it, too much rich food all at once, after a really long time of non at all, but honestly, so worth it.

“When we get home, I’ll set you up in one of the spare rooms, and maybe we can order you some clothes?” Steve pulls the bandage comfortably tight around Eddie’s foot, a nice gauze pad wrapped around the sole for cushioning.

“Errr, I mean, I, before, I was usually a good will kind of shopper, you know? Maybe Target on a good day?”

Steve just blinks at him for a second, before that clearly sinks in, “don’t...don’t think about the money, if that’s what you mean, we can get you some clothes, really, I don’t mind.”

And Eddie’s sure as fuck not going to look a gift horse in the mouth, Steve’s already broke the bank on Eddie, what’s a little more, right?”

Eddie whistles, he can’t help it. Objectively, obviously, he knew Steve was loaded. There’s a difference between knowing that and…seeing it. This is like a fucking mansion. Well, it’s not like a mansion, obviously. It is a mansion.

Automatic electric gates, a drive that’s got to be a half mile long...and lawns. Trees. Land stretching off into the distance.

The house is fucking nice. It’s kind of sprawling...just the garage looks fucking massive on it’s own.

Steve sort of hovers around Eddie as he limps over the threshold, and, yeap, just as nice inside as it is outside. Very sleek and modern, big open spaces, lots of glass. Dark wood and bookcases filled with leather books and big paintings that look impressive but aren’t...well. Eddie’s not a fan, really. Eddie spies a building out the back, also lots of glass...Eddie’s money is on indoor pool.

“Something smells good,” Eddie says, as he limps further into the house, “smells kind of homey.” Which is true, something here smells vaguely relaxing. Kind of...comforting. Safe.

Eddie looks around as he gets further in, and the place is so big it is kind of a walk, it’s...really nice, but also kind of soulless. It doesn’t look lived in at all. And, Eddie frowns, something occurring to him for the very first time. Steve’s a good looking Alpha, and he’s fucking loaded, “will your, erm,” Eddie flounders, “partner, mind me being here?”

Steve laughs, seeing Eddie through to the lounge to sit on the couch, “don’t think I would have been able to play my part today if I were in any kind of serious relationship. Hagan would have known if I was seeing anyone, the press loves that shit.”

And yeah, all of that makes total sense, and Eddie feels kind of stupid for not putting that together. But it...doesn’t really make sense, considering Steve is, still, clearly, very hot and very loaded.

“Okay,” Steve plops a laptop into Eddie’s lap, open to a clothing website. “just open tabs on some stuff you’d like, and then give it back to me when you’re done. You’re going to need some clothes while Hopper tracks down your uncle, okay? I’m going to go and set up a room.”

Eddie’s just sort of rolling with it at this point, so he nods and smiles and then blinks down at a Tom Ford Slim-Fit Button-Down Collar Checked Cotton shirt...that’s nearly seven hundred dollars.

And Eddie would never, in a million fucking years, be caught dead in it. Honestly, he thinks he actually prefers the white nightdress.

Eddie looks at the drop down menu, clicks on ‘cashmere’ for shits and giggles, and then laughs to himself when the very first listing is a black turtle-neck...for over a thousand odd dollars. Fucking rich people are batshit.

Eddie manages to find a drop down that lets him filter out everything over two hundred and fifty dollars, and then he searches by lowest price first. He starts opening tabs, mostly inoffensive lounge wear – a large portion of which is very, very unfortunately beige.

Eddie hears Steve coming before he sees him, “just do it please Carol,” and he sounds...exasperated by whoever Carol is. Steve comes back and takes the laptop. He very very briefly frowns at Eddie over the top of the screen, but it’s over so fast Eddie’s not entirely sure he saw it, “you think you’ll want something more to eat later?”

Eddie did eat his weight in McDonalds a couple of hours ago...but he hasn’t been really full for years, “uhm, yeah, in a bit, maybe?”

“Sure, I’ll see what we have.”

And then Eddie just...sits there. He can’t actually remember the last time he just...sat on a couch. The only place the Omega at the ranch are allowed to sit is either the floor, when they’ve been told to, the table, but only when eating...and probably their beds in the dorm.

Sitting here feels kind of naughty, actually, sitting here, relaxing, comfortable and warm. Eddie touches the lush, velvety feel of the couch, it’s really nice, really soft-“chicken and pasta?” Eddie nearly jumps out of his fucking skin. Like he’s just been caught doing something he shouldn’t. Logically, he knows that isn’t the case, but his feet are tingling regardless.

Steve can actually cook, who knew? Well, it might only be a simple dish, browned off chicken chunks in something creamy and mushroomy, sitting on some pasta, but it’s absolutely delicious.

“We should probably get someone to look at your feet tomorrow.”

Eddie shrugs, nearly vibrating with excitement at the sight of garlic bread and trying his best to hide it, “always been fine before.”

“Still, I wouldn’t want them getting infected. Do you want me to tell Hopper anything about your uncle? I presume he will be busy for a little bit but…?”

Eddie swallows but...nods, Steve getting his phone and Hoppers card, “he’s called Wayne Munson, he’s my dads brother. He lives in a trailer park in, uhm, Hawkins. Indiana.”

Steve taps at his phone, “that’s not actually that far, we could...probably drive that, maybe in a day, once you feel up to it. I’ll see what Hopper says, see if he gets back to us tomorrow, I figure we've both had a long day.”

And that sounds...well. Eddie's running out of reasons to be suspicious, to question this, to question Steve. He has a little kernel of hope, real, genuine hope, growing inside him now...that this is true. That he's going to be free. That he's going to see Wayne.

Eddie nods, keeps eating, is thrilled when Steve offers him a beer, nodding happily. Steve withdraws it at the last second, “wait, just how old are you?”

“Errr…twenty one?”

Steve laughs, “try again,” but he does hand over the beer.

“Eighteen. I was there for a couple of years, maybe a bit longer, they got me walking home from school. Pretty sure my parents wouldn’t have, you know, noticed, probably best I don’t go back there, anyway. Quite a few Omega came through in the time that I was, you know, there...”

Steve’s staring off into space though, looking somewhere over Eddie’s shoulder, clearly not listening.“-oh.”

“Errr...Steve, you okay?” Steve looks like his brain has just stalled. Like completely shut down, “Steve, man, you’re freaking me out a bit here.”

Steve frowns, finally showing some life, his fork still literally hanging in air, half way to his mouth, “Tommy Hagan is probably being arrested.”

“I, err...I mean, yeah? I fucking hope he is?”

As Eddie watches, a bit of chicken falls off Steve’s fork and splats onto his plate, “right now, other than me, you, and the FBI...no one knows that. That Tommy’s being arrested, arrested for something fucking terrible.”

“Riiight…”

“He’s being arrested for something he can’t come back from. It’ll got public. His names about to be mud. His stocks are going to tank. Every part of everything Tommy owns is about to go up in flames.” Steve’s fork clangs onto the plate, “I’m so sorry, I have to go to work.”

“I...what?”

Steve’s already picking up his phone, his keys, sliding on his jacket, “help yourself to anything you need, I’ll be back...at some point.” Steve’s already calling someone, “I need you in the office, right now. I want Wheeler, from legal, make sure finance is there, actually, make sure Henderson has availability tomorrow,” Steve comes back from the front door, sliding a business card in front of Eddie, “no, right now, I’m on my way, twenty minutes.”

Eddie looks at the card; it’s Steve’s, has his email, office number and mobile on it, presumably so Eddie can get hold of him. Eddie’s pretty sure he just witnessed the first steps of a hostile take over, or something.

And now he’s in this massive house, all alone.

Link to Part Four

@stylelovechild @steddieonthen @marklee-blackmore @sticknpokelightningbolt @resident-gay-bitch @somegirlsomewhere @mugloversonly @weekend-dreamer7 @lololol-1234 @anne-bennett-cosplayer

[internationem]

Just a reminder: intent is much, much more important to genocide than the amount of people dying. simply put, the amount of dead civilians isn't what makes a genocide a genocide.

for example, up to 33k bosnians are estimated to have died because of the bosnian genocide. in contrast, the estimated amount of japanese civilians dead during WWII is between 330k and 900k. yet most (serious) people wouldn't ever consider that there was a genocide against the japanese people. why? well, no government wanted to, planned or carried out systematic attacks with the intent of erasing, in whole or in part, the japanese people. yet, however, it is fairly easy to prove that the serbs wanted the bosnians gone and acted accordingly. You can even fullfill the material criteria for the Genocide Convention (ie killing people, or causing body or mental harm to a population) to a certain extent but if the intent behind those actions isn't to destroy a national/ethnic/etc group, then it's not genocide, the fullfilment of the material elements themselves aren't proof that there's a genocide without fullfilment of the mental element.

This isn't to overlook civilian deaths, but truth is, in modern warfare, civilians ARE gonna die, and that sucks massively, but we have a a whole branch of international law that help mitigate a lot of civilian deaths and allow for criminals to be held accountable for violation of civilian rights and livs, without having to erroneously call every single conflict where people die a genocide.

Similarly, it may be true that a lot more people are dying in the Israel-Gaza war than in the 7/10 attacks, but why did Hamas attack Israel in the first place? Why has Israel been attacked fairly frequently since it's independence? Because they want to completely erase Israel as a whole and expel (and kill, or best case scenario, convert) the jewish people out of the Middle East. This is very easy to prove, read Hamas founding charter and literally any history book that talks about wars against Israel or the expulsion of Jews from several ME countries. It's what the whole "from the river to the sea" slogan is about. It's also the very reason Israel needs to exist. But meanwhile, there's little to nothing that points out Israel wants to wipe out Palestinians as a group: 20% of their citizens are Palestinians who enjoy the same rights as Jewish citizens of Israel and aren't targeted, even Palestinians of the West Bank aren't usually targeted in a way that would even imply the IDF wants to erase them as a group, and even considering the Gaza campaign, its objective is to erradicate Hamas, not Palestinians, and nothing in Israel's policy outwardly implicates they want to erradicate all Gazans. Palestine, and especially Gaza, has massive population growth, which wouldn't make sense if there was a genocide campaign against them. This isn't to say the IDF is doing everything perfectly or that there aren't war crimes being commited. But war crimes don't mean genocide.

Calling what's happening in Gaza genocide is antisemitic, because not only are we applying different standards to Israel than we do any other country, we are also saying that Jewish people defending themselves is, inherently, a crime, one of the worst crimes defined at that. But it's also harmful to palestinians, because claiming that Israel's war against Hamas is a war against Palestinians equates Palestinians (many of whom just want to live regular lives, not war) with terrorists (who also target them, by the way), which seems islamophobic as hell if i'm being honest. it is also insensitive and damaging to every group that has been the victim of genocide, and every group which might be a victim of a genocide in the future, because how you're twisting the definition of the word to mean whatever you want it to mean. If everything is a genocide, nothing is.

[austinsastrology8991]

Uranus and why your life is a ShiT ShoW > URANUS IN Yer HOUSe <

Uranus in the FIrst - You are the most unpredictable little fuck-head that everyone loves. They always change > there clothes, there direction in life > their hair colour. they thrive in change unless you try to change them, they are the ones changing and dont you dare change them, thats all they have left ;( Uranus in the Second. - Crazy self esteem issues. these people think they are the greatest then the worst person, also same applies to their income because they dont think they are worth much, until they invest into bitcoin and think they will be the next warren buffet. honestly the only thing stable about you is the perception of your value changing. But they love change, something to look forward to i guess Uranus in the Third your brain and communication skills are kinda fucky you know that dont you. you always know how to say something shocking, and extremely good at changing the subject of a conversation, like you dont have to say much, but what you do say just made everyone go huh what the fuck you say? its amusing tho we appreciate you Uranus in the F4urth - Emotionally avoidant, dependent, and attached personalities. They cant make their mind up on how they feel, so they experiemnt with every feeling to see if they vibe with that. mum was probably very unpredictable, and they wanna be like her. they just trying their best to forgive her <3 Uranus in the Fifth - Okay this one is the genius. This one people actually think your onto something when your showing off because you break free of every social convention, and archetype, but in the most perfect way. everyone believes your special, and you can change the vibe of a room like dat Uranus in the Sixth - what a fkn mess your life is. I had this one friend who would have 10 different drinks in his room and he would drink each one sparingly (they were all warm too). he had some serious health issues, and lets not get into his mental health okay. but yall have crazy lives and you make it that way Uranus in the Seventh - Im not a player i just fuck a lot. they choose their partners based off how interesting they are, if you can satiate their curiosity you got em. but if your boring or not worth figuring out yeah g-bye. also they just come off strange so everyone is extremely curious. they get projected on a lot but they dont mind its a good way to find out something interesting lol Uranus in the Eighth - Freaks who will do anything.... and im not just talking about sex, if they want something they'll find any way to get it. masters of attainment, even if its probably not healthy for them, they don't care if they want it they get it. then the object of their fixation changes as soon as they do get it. they are like obsessed with 'progress' but its hard to call it that sometimes Uranus in the Ninth - Clever minds who are always skipping segments of a speech, or a video to find the juicy parts. They have very quick minds that are so easily bored, but if you talk to them, they'll never not have something interesting to talk about. also when change does occur its a LOt Uranus in the Tenth - why are yalll like this. just baffling people like they know how to make an entrance and when everyone starts loooking at them, they decide to make fun of everyone by doing something a lil bit too shocking, almosst making fun of you for looking at them. gets off on shocking ya Uranus in the Eleventh - They wanna change the world, but not in a way that is practical. until it is. They have a million friends because they have a knack for understanding people, but when you ask what they want or what scares them. it just makes you rethink why your even friends with them in the first place. 12 - your crazy. and its endearing but everyone is this close to calling the cops on you or locking you up in a psyche ward. maybe tone down your retardation. we all got something going on but you take it to a whole new level.

[fratttymatty]

Bro, It's Haunted

(All characters are 18+)

It was the perfect night for a paranormal investigation. The kind of night when a full moon hung low in the sky, casting eerie shadows on dilapidated buildings, and the air was thick with the smell of old dust and mystery. A group of nine friends—paranormal investigators and self-proclaimed nerds—had been itching for their latest adventure. They weren’t just any nerdy crew; they were a tight-knit group of gay, liberal, and openly eccentric thirty-year-olds. They had faced haunted dolls, cursed objects, and even poltergeists. But tonight’s location was a bit… different.

The Alpha Sigma Pi frat house, once the pride of their small college town, had been abandoned for years. No one had lived there in at least a decade, and rumors about the place circulated like wildfire. No one dared go near it anymore—except for the team, of course.

The nine of them gathered in the parking lot, adjusting their equipment and checking the cameras on their phones. There was Nate, the confident team leader with a deep love for horror movies and a perpetual dark hoodie; Jesse, the sarcastic and dry-witted one, constantly cracking jokes but deeply sentimental when it counted; Finn, the tech genius who could hack anything and had a fascination with all things supernatural; Liam, the sensitive one, who was always the first to believe in things like ghosts and spirits; Ollie, the curious but quiet skeptic who had a soft spot for astrology; and then there was the rest of the crew—Emory, Miles, Theo, and Xavier—each one an essential part of the quirky, nerdy ensemble.

They stood in front of the house, which loomed like a forgotten monument to a time long past. The windows were boarded up, the paint peeling, and a thick fog curled around the crumbling structure.

��Alright, so the legends say this place is haunted by the spirits of the worst kind of frat boys—those who never grew up and are stuck in the 'glory days' of their youth,” Finn said, adjusting the strap on his backpack, filled with ghost-hunting equipment.

“Yikes,” Liam muttered. “Not looking forward to meeting that kind of energy.”

"Eh, at least we won’t have to deal with them 'till we're dead and rotting," Ollie quipped, eyes scanning the dark silhouette of the house.

The team filed into the front door, which creaked open easily, as if welcoming them in. The inside of the house was just as abandoned as it looked on the outside—empty beer cans, broken furniture, and posters of former college athletes lined the walls. It smelled like stale alcohol and faded memories.

“This place is definitely haunted,” Jesse muttered under his breath, looking around. "Either that, or these are the vibes of my worst nightmare."

“Let’s get to work,” Nate said, trying to focus the team. “We’ll split up. Emory, you and I will check the basement. Theo, Jesse, check the upper floors. Finn, Liam, and Xavier, you’re with me on the ground level. Ollie, you’re on monitoring. Keep an eye on the cameras.”

Everyone nodded in agreement, and the investigation began. At first, nothing seemed out of the ordinary. They set up their cameras, EVP recorders, and motion sensors. Every now and then, a strange creak echoed through the house, but that was hardly enough to draw anyone’s attention—until it started happening.

The first person to notice was Theo. He stood frozen in the hallway, staring at an old photograph hanging crookedly on the wall.

“Uh, guys,” he said slowly, “this picture looks weird.”

The photograph was of a group of young men, all smiling proudly in front of the house. But as Theo looked closer, the faces seemed to shift, almost imperceptibly, until the men no longer looked like their college-aged selves.

"Did… did those guys just move?" Theo whispered, voice quivering slightly.

Finn rushed over, but by the time he reached the wall, the image was still and normal. Nothing had changed.

“Bro, you good?” Jesse asked, clearly trying to joke, but something in his tone felt off. “Just a picture. Maybe you’re seeing things.”

It wasn’t until the lights flickered that the first real sign something was wrong occurred. The house itself seemed to breathe, the walls exhaling in a slow, deliberate shudder.

Suddenly, a wave of nausea hit them all at once.

“I feel dizzy…” Liam said, his hand reaching to steady himself against a doorframe.

“I’m good,” Jesse muttered, “but I swear I’m too good.” He let out a low laugh, as though something was tickling his brain, but not quite reaching the punchline.

Then things got… stranger.

One by one, the group started to change. At first, it was subtle—nothing more than a shift in posture, or the way their voices sounded. But soon, their bodies began to morph, skin tightening, muscle mass increasing, faces becoming more angular and chiseled. Their clothes felt tighter, their jeans more fitted—though most of them couldn’t quite put their finger on why.

"Hey, bro, I feel kinda… strong all of a sudden," Miles said, flexing his bicep absentmindedly. “Like, I wanna, I dunno, lift something heavy. Bro things.”

“Bro?” Jesse blinked, his voice coming out in a deeper tone. His hand shot out to slap Miles on the back, but instead of the usual playful gesture, it was almost an aggressive, over-the-top bro hug. “Yeah, man! Let’s get that pump going.”

“I… I don’t know what’s going on…” Theo’s voice trailed off. He ran a hand through his hair—hair that was suddenly much thicker and styled differently. He felt the front of his shirt and blinked as if waking up from a strange dream. “What the hell? Why am I—?”

“It’s the house,” Nate said slowly, his own voice shifting into a more gravelly, assured tone. He glanced around at his friends, realizing, with growing panic, that they weren’t the same people they’d been an hour ago. “We’ve been taken.”

Finn turned around in disbelief, his fingers instinctively adjusting the collar of his polo. “Nah, man. I feel good. Like, really good. Like, I’m the king of this house or something.”

The transformations continued—tighter jeans, broader shoulders, more swagger in their steps. Their personalities were shifting too, as if something in the house was rewriting their identities. The sarcastic and clever remarks gave way to cruder jokes, and deep thoughts were replaced with loud cheers about football and frat parties.

By the time they had all fully transformed, they stood before one another—completely unrecognizable from who they’d once been. Their names had changed too, though they couldn't remember exactly how or when.

Nate was now "Chad," Jesse was “Brock,” Theo was “Kyle,” Finn became “Tyler,” Liam became “Brad,” Ollie was “Zach,” Miles was “Jake,” Emory was “Ryan,” and Xavier was “Max.” They looked at each other in confusion—before bursting into raucous laughter.

“Bro, this is sick!” Chad (formerly Nate) shouted. “I feel so… alive, you know? Like, we’re living in the moment, man!”

“I dunno about you guys, but I love being 21 again,” Brock (Jesse) chimed in, punching Kyle (Theo) on the shoulder with a laugh. “This is what life’s all about, man! Football, parties, and, like, grilling stuff, y’know?”

They all laughed again. They had no memory of their past selves—no interest in returning to who they once were. The house had changed them, and now they belonged here, in their new lives.

“Who needs ghosts?” Max (Xavier) added with a chuckle, slapping a high five with Zach (Ollie). “We’re the real menace now, bros.”

And so, the abandoned frat house stood—alive, buzzing with energy as its new inhabitants reveled in their transformation. The doors closed behind them with a final, definitive slam, and the house hummed as if content, its newest bro occupants already planning the next big party.

The Spellsisters were a tight-knit group of ten liberal, nerdy, 28-year-old paranormal investigators who prided themselves on their intellect, critical thinking, and love of all things supernatural. But when they stepped foot into the abandoned Delta Kappa Omega sorority house, they had no idea they were about to face something that would completely change them.

The team consisted of:

Cassidy – The level-headed leader, calm and collected, always keeping the group grounded.

Lana – The intuitive one, deeply attuned to spiritual energy and the vibes of any place.

Sierra – The techie, always with gadgets in hand, trying to find logical explanations for everything.

Ella – The free-spirited dreamer, often lost in mystical thoughts, fascinated by energy fields.

Bailey – The pragmatic skeptic, always on the lookout for rational explanations for the unexplained.

Tessa – The tarot card reader with a sharp wit and a skeptical edge, always questioning the unknown.

Zoey – The empathetic one, sensitive to emotional energies and trying to understand the deeper forces at play.

Emilia – The witch-in-training, passionate about crystals, herbs, and mystical rituals.

Riley – The scientist, logical to the core, though secretly intrigued by the supernatural.

Morgan – The dramatic one with an epic flair for storytelling and a surprisingly deep intuition.

They had come to investigate the Delta Kappa Omega house, a once-vibrant sorority that had long been abandoned and was rumored to be haunted by the spirits of its former sisters. Now, as the house lay in ruins, they were determined to uncover the truth.

"This place is... heavy," Cassidy said as the group stood before the house, the old, dilapidated structure looming before them. "It feels like it's holding onto something... dark."

"Yeah, dark energy," Sierra muttered, fiddling with a device meant to detect electromagnetic fields. "This place is off."

“I don’t like it,” Bailey added, scanning the area with a frown. “It’s like something’s watching us.”

“Well, we came here for answers, not to get freaked out,” Lana said, looking up at the house with determination. “Let’s do this.”

As they entered the house, the air felt charged with an unnatural energy. Dust swirled in the air like a ghostly mist, and remnants of the sorority’s past—old furniture, faded photographs, and posters of smiling young women—lined the walls, now decaying with age.

“I’ve got a bad feeling about this,” Zoey murmured as she stepped cautiously into the living room. “The vibes here are… weird.”

“Well, whatever it is, we need to figure it out,” Cassidy said firmly, taking charge. “Let’s split up, cover more ground. Stay in contact. If you sense anything… strange, let me know.”

The group split into smaller teams: Cassidy and Riley headed for the kitchen to investigate, while Zoey, Tessa, and Morgan set up their base in the living room. Lana, Sierra, and Emilia went to the attic, where the coldest, most oppressive energy seemed to gather.

It didn’t take long before something went terribly wrong.

The house began to hum, an eerie vibration that rattled the walls. A heavy, oppressive feeling filled the air, and a sudden dizziness struck all of them, as if the house itself were rearranging their minds.

“Something’s not right,” Cassidy said, gripping the edge of the kitchen counter to steady herself.

"I—I feel weird..." Bailey said, her voice trailing off. She glanced down at herself and froze, blinking rapidly. Her loose, comfortable jeans and hoodie had been replaced with a form-fitting, trendy crop top and high-waisted shorts. She was now, suddenly, perfectly toned—her stomach flat and abs defined. She ran her hands through her hair. "Wait, what the hell just happened?"

Cassidy looked at herself in the same reflection—her shirt was now tight, and her body had shifted in ways she couldn’t explain. Her once wild hair was now perfectly styled, and her makeup—subtle yet flawless—somehow appeared. “Is this… real?”

“What’s happening?” Riley asked, tugging at her jacket. It now clung to her body in a way that was completely foreign to her. Her voice, once confident and logical, now had a higher pitch, more energy, and a certain tone to it. She caught sight of her reflection in a broken mirror. Her jeans were now tight and trendy, her hair styled in soft waves. "I look… good."

Lana, standing near the window, twirled a lock of hair and glanced at herself in disbelief. Her long hair had become voluminous waves, framing her face in a way that made her appear effortlessly glamorous. Her baggy clothes were gone, replaced by tight pants and heels that somehow made sense. "Oh my god, I look amazing," she said, flashing a grin at the others.

"Okay, I’m freaking out," Sierra said, now feeling herself. Her hoodie was gone, replaced with a fitted jacket that hugged her body, accentuating her curves. Her hair was styled with perfect volume, and her usual intellectual focus had been replaced by something a little... lighter. “I look, like, totally different. And I kind of love it."

“I don’t know about you guys,” Zoey added, glancing down at her now-bodycon dress, “but, like, I’m feeling myself right now. Like, I could totally get used to this."

“What is going on with us?” Tessa asked, her voice oddly high-pitched and bubbly now. She fidgeted with her hair, which had grown shinier, thicker. "Like, I’m literally glowing right now. What happened to us?”

"I—I don’t even care," Bailey said with a shrug, her voice now more carefree than before. "I’m, like, so over the ghost stuff. I feel hot."

Cassidy, the former leader, stood still, her hands on her hips. Her old, rational thoughts slipped away, and a strange new energy surged inside her. “Honestly? I’m kind of digging this whole vibe. I feel like we should just go out and party. We can figure out the ghosts later.”

“That’s what I’m saying!” Tessa laughed, flipping her hair dramatically. “Why deal with spooky stuff when we could be living our best life? I’m, like, ready for a night out.”

“I need, like, so many more outfits,” Zoey giggled, now twirling in the middle of the room. “I’m obsessed with how cute I look!”

Lana spun to face the group, her attitude completely transformed. “Let’s hit up a frat party. I need some attention, and I’m ready for it.”

“I’m like, so ready for this,” Sierra added with a wide, confident grin, brushing her hands through her hair. “We’re totally in charge now.”

Each of the Spellsisters had undergone a full transformation—not just physically, but mentally, as well. Gone were the curious, thoughtful, and empowered women who had walked into the house. In their place stood something else entirely: young, fashionable, superficial versions of themselves, obsessed with parties, boys, and their looks. They were no longer concerned with the supernatural or solving any paranormal mysteries.

Their names had changed along with everything else:

Cassidy became Carmen – the bubbly, fashion-obsessed, carefree girl who only cared about herself and looking perfect.

Bailey became Brianna – the ditzy, energetic girl who was all about fun, partying, and catching attention.

Zoey became Zara – a sparkling, happy-go-lucky girl obsessed with shopping, boys, and being the life of the party.

Tessa became Tiffany – the fun-loving, ditzy girl who lived for drama and self-love.

Lana became Kylie – the confident, flirtatious sorority girl who was always the center of attention.

Sierra became Sienna – the outgoing, trendy girl who always knew what was in style.

Ella became Ellie – the ditzy girl who cared only about getting Instagram selfies and looking cute.

Emilia became Mia – the fashionable, self-centered girl who only thought about herself and her future popularity.

Riley became Riley (yes, Riley kept her name, but now her personality was transformed into that of a carefree, boy-crazy party girl).

Morgan became Madison – the dramatic, always-the-center-of-attention girl who thrived on admiration.

The house had claimed them, and they no longer cared about ghosts, spirits, or mysteries. They were new people, and they were loving their new lives of shopping, partying, and social media fame.

“Ugh, I need a cocktail,” Kylie said, tossing her hair over her shoulder. “Let’s go hit up a party or something. Who even cares about ghosts anymore?”

And just like that, the Spellsisters were gone. In their place, new, ditzy, party-obsessed sorority girls had emerged. They were more than happy to leave the house’s haunted mysteries behind and step into their new lives.

After a strange, eerie night spent in the haunted Delta Kappa Omega house, the Spellsisters had transformed into something completely different. Gone were the intellectual, nerdy women who had entered the house. In their place were confident, party-obsessed, fashionable girls—completely unconcerned with the ghosts or the mysteries they came to uncover.

At the same time, across town, the former paranormal investigator guys—the Bro Hunters—had undergone a similar transformation in the Delta Kappa Omega’s brother house, Alpha Sigma Pi. Just as the Spellsisters had been turned into bubbly sorority girls, the guys had turned into frat boys—cocky, straight, and eager to hit the nearest party scene.

Cassidy, now Carmen, stood outside the Delta Kappa Omega house, looking up at the massive structure, her perfectly styled hair fluttering in the breeze. She twirled her keys in her hand, glancing down at her new, super-cute outfit—a tight crop top and high-waisted shorts that accentuated her toned body.

“God, I look so good right now,” she muttered to herself, checking her reflection in the window. “I’m literally going to make all the boys fall for me.”

“Carmen! You look like a snack,” Zoey—now Zara—called from across the street. She was leaning against a car, her eyes covered by oversized sunglasses despite the fact that it was nearing dusk. “Like, I swear, you’re hotter than anyone on Instagram.”

“Oh, stop,” Carmen giggled, flipping her hair. “But, like, you’re right.”

“You know what we need to do tonight?” Zara said, a mischievous grin crossing her face. “We need to party, girl. And I know just the place.”

Across the street, a group of frat boys were walking out of Alpha Sigma Pi’s mansion, all loud, cocky, and looking for their next big adventure. Among them were Jax, Max, Zane, Derrick, and Brock—each of them now fully immersed in their frat boy personas, with names to match their new identities.

“Oh, hell yeah, tonight’s gonna be lit,” Jax—formerly Jake—said, his grin wide and confident as he checked out his reflection in the nearby window. His frat brothers—Max, Zane, Derrick, and Brock—flanked him, all dressed in the tightest, most stylish clothes that fit the frat look perfectly.

“We’re gonna own this town,” Zane said, flexing his muscles and striking a pose. “The best party in town? It’s gonna be at our place.”

Brock slapped Zane on the back. “Dude, I don’t know about you, but I’m ready to get some attention tonight. Some real attention.”

“Well, we’re gonna get more than attention,” Max added, cracking his knuckles. “I’m thinking we’ll get ourselves some new girlfriends tonight.”

Just as the frat boys approached their cars, they saw a group of girls walking down the street toward them—Carmen, Zara, and the rest of the new “Spellsisters,” all of them laughing and chatting, their heels clicking against the pavement.

Brock’s eyes immediately locked onto Carmen. “Damn,” he muttered under his breath. “She’s fire.”

“Yo, check it out,” Zane said, pointing at Zara. “She looks like she’s ready for some fun.”

“Hell yeah,” Max said with a grin. “Looks like we’re not the only ones looking to have a good time tonight.”

“Yo, ladies!” Jax called out, flashing a confident smile. “You girls lookin’ to party or what?”

Carmen turned around at the sound of Jax’s voice, and her eyes immediately scanned the group of guys. She felt an overwhelming rush of energy, her pulse quickening. This was it—this was exactly the kind of attention she craved. “Uh, yeah, we’re looking for a good time,” she said, flipping her hair back with an exaggerated flourish. “What’s your deal?”

“Oh, we’re definitely looking for some fun,” Jax replied, stepping closer. His new, cocky swagger was undeniable, and Carmen could feel the electricity between them. “I’m Jax, and this is Max, Zane, Derrick, and Brock. We were just about to hit up a party at the frat house. You down?”

“We’re totally down,” Zara chimed in, flashing a sweet smile that had a hint of mischief. “I’m Zara, and this is Carmen, Ella, Tessa, and Sienna.” She winked at Jax. “We know how to party, trust me.”

“Well, that’s what I like to hear,” Jax grinned, his eyes scanning her body. “You sure you can handle us?”

“I can handle anything,” Zara replied, crossing her arms confidently. “And you guys look like you could use some serious attention.”

Brock stepped forward, grinning. “I don’t know about you, but I’m ready to make this night unforgettable. Let’s make sure you get the full frat boy experience.”

The Spellsisters and the frat boys laughed together, the instant chemistry between them undeniable. With every word exchanged, the former nerds and introverts grew more confident, their carefree personalities fully taking over.

As the night went on, they moved into the frat house, music blasting and the sound of laughter and chatter filling the air. Carmen was inseparable from Jax, Zara kept flirting with Max, and Sienna couldn’t seem to get enough of Brock. Tessa and Derrick were in the corner, gossiping and laughing about their latest party experiences, while Ella and Zane were dancing together, their chemistry undeniable.

“I’ve never had more fun in my life,” Carmen whispered to Jax as they sipped drinks and stood near the dance floor. “Like, why would I ever go back to my old life?”

“You don’t need to,” Jax replied, his arm casually draped around her waist. “We’ve got everything we need right here. Who needs the paranormal when we can have real fun?”

“Exactly,” Carmen said, leaning in to kiss him on the cheek. “Who needs the ghosts?”

And in that moment, it became clear—both the Spellsisters and the frat boys had left behind their old, nerdy selves. They were no longer investigators or skeptics; they were now young, fun, and living for the moment. The ghosts that once haunted the Delta Kappa Omega house? Well, they were just part of the past. What mattered now was the party, the attention, and the fun of their new, carefree lives.

And, of course, there was a whole lot of dating going on—because in this new world, the only thing they cared about was each other, the fun they were having, and their new, exciting, drama-filled lives.

(From row 4, 2, 1 left to right, Brock, Zach, Ryan, Tyler, Max, Jake, Kyle, Chad, Brad.)

(From row 4, 3, 2, 1 left to right, Sienna, Zara, Tiffany, Brianna, Ellie, Kylie, Riley, Madison, Carmen, Mia.)

[professorsnape394]

Day 3: Haunted Hijinks

Pairing: Severus Snape x OC

Rating: 🥰

Prompt: Haunt

Summary: Peeves has it out for the new Professor and only Severus Snape can help.

A/N: So I had initially intended for his to be a shorter story but it ended up being even bigger than my last. I apologise if there maybe isn't quite enough Snape for you, but good news is there will be a part 2!

Warnings: ghosts?

Word Count: 2518

Credits to Gif Creator

Week 1

The haunting started just as I had anticipated. Doors slamming, objects randomly disappearing and reappearing in different places, drawers sporadically flinging themselves open and emptying their entire contents onto the floor.

I wasn’t scared. I knew it was coming.

When I first joined the school Minerva was over the moon to have her favourite student joining the faculty. I received an overwhelmingly warm welcome by everyone… everyone, except two.

The first was to be expected. Severus Snape was never a man for comradery. Despite the fact we had both attended Hogwarts at the same time as teens, my presence here didn’t seem to faze him in the slightest. While I had been admittedly disappointed by his cold reception, I wasn’t surprised by it. Snape rarely acknowledged me, even when we had shared classes together. I wouldn’t be surprised to find out he didn’t even know I existed.

The second, less then pleasant reception, came from a poltergeist.

As confirmed by Minerva, Peeves had a habit of making every new professor’s life at Hogwarts a living hell. Everyone had experienced the same treatment, all except one.

The torment was to last one month exactly, worsening as the weeks went on. This was his way of initiating you into the faculty apparently. The silver lining of it all though, was after the month was done, no professor would be pestered by the poltergeist thereafter.

The first week passed without issue. Yes, it was annoying to go to pick up your hairbrush only to have it vanish from plain sight. And constantly tidying up the contents of my desk was becoming a bit of a nuisance but nothing I couldn’t handle for the next few weeks.

Week 2

“Peeves!” I groaned, jumping from my chair, as my whole desk hit the floor. “I’m trying to work.”

The room echoed with deep belly laughter, an apparition of the ghost appearing as he zoomed from one side of the room to the other.

Books flew from their spot on the bookcase, smashing into the opposite wall before fluttering to the floor. One after the other the shelves emptied themselves, leaving only the bare bones of the old oak bookcase.

While trying to right my upturned desk, a loud creaking caught my attention.

“No!” I screamed, watching the shelves come crashing to the floor with a loud thud.

This had been the way of the week. Standing by, watching the poltergeist wreak havoc on my chambers, powerless to stop his antics. Within the short space of a week Peeves had turned my life upside down. Every day I awoke to each room in my quarters being completely trashed by the ghost. My clothes were piled high, the empty drawers dumped beside them, class assignments and student essays lay scattered across the floor, he had even taken to raiding my bathroom cupboards, squeezing out the contents of every bottle he came across, smearing it over the floor, walls and mirrors.

Despite my efforts to clean up after him, I soon realised it was a futile task. No matter how quickly I cleaned up one mess, Peeves had already created three more. It was halfway through the week when I realised it would be easier to live with the mess for the next two and a half weeks. Paying my dues turned out to be a lot messier than I had anticipated.

Week 3

The penultimate week took a different toll than the others. I saw Peeves a lot more than he had previously allowed; choosing to take to his physical form and follow me around the castle grounds.

He whispered nonsense in my ear, spoke over me while I taught, interrupted my conversations with my colleagues and worst of all he sang. Day and night, Peeves belted out a badly pitched tune, throwing in the occasional made-up limerick to just to taunt me.

Last night was a particularly difficult night. Somehow Peeves had gathered every radio, gramophone and record player from around the school and scattered them throughout my bedroom. Dozens of different melodies blasted through the speakers, all while Peeves sung along to songs that he never even knew the words to.

My three-day migraine turning into four, I was surviving purely off of caffeine and sheer will power at this point. I hadn’t had a minute of sleep since the week began, and I wasn’t sure I could cope with it any longer.

“Not long now, my dear.” McGonagall encouraged, gently patting my arm reassuringly.

Struggling to keep my eyes open, I took another large swig of my morning coffee. “How did you put up with it, Minerva. I don’t think I can last much longer; it’s beginning to affect my teaching.”

“I’m afraid it’s just one of those things we have all had to endure, my dear.”

“Not everybody.” I huffed, turning my narrowed gaze to the potions master at the far end of the table. “How did he get away with it? Why doesn’t Peeves make his life hell.”

“That would have to be a question you ask Severus.”

“Pft.” I grunted. “He’d never tell me. He hasn’t even spoke to me since I started here.”

“Have you spoken to him?”

“No but…” I didn’t have any excuse.

“Then maybe now is your chance. Severus had never been one to make the first step, but I know he’d appreciate it if you paid him a visit.”

“Do you think he even remembers me? I mean it’s been years since we were in school and even then we didn’t exactly run in the same circles.”

“I’m positive he’ll remember you, Y/N, maybe more than you’d expect.”

“What’s that supposed to mea- “

Before I had a chance to finish my sentence, my mug of coffee flew from my grasp, levitating in the air tauntingly, before finally tipping its entire contents onto my lap.

I jumped from the table with a gasp, thanking Merlin the beverage had time to cool before I was scolded.

My cheeks flushed red with embarrassment. Not only was my dress and robes stained dark with coffee but the entire school had been privy to my torment.

I immediately ran from the Great Hall, hoping to escape any further public teasing from the spectre.

By the time the school day had come to an end my head was pounding from the lack of sleep, Peeves had interrupted all six of my classes today, and I had heard students whispering about the coffee fiasco on more than one occasion.

This was my breaking point.

Putting aside my shame and anxiety, I stormed down to the Dungeons to find out how Snape escaped the poltergeist’s awful induction. I was willing to beg on my knees if that is what it took.

“Y/N?” Snape breathed, seemingly shocked at the sight of me on his doorstep.

“I need your help Severus. Please.”

“Come in.” He granted, clearing his throat as he returned to the room.

I took a seat by the fire, waiting for him to join me. Instead, the potions professor paced around the room, never quite settling on one spot.

“It’s nice to see you again.” I called over my shoulder to him, hoping to break the ice.

“Is it?” He stumbled. “I mean; yes, it is.”

“It’s been a long time; I don’t even think I remember the last time we saw each other.”

“Graduation.” He said without hesitating. “I saw you afterwards in the Hog’s Head with Potter and Black.”

“Oh yeah. I forgot about that.” I chuckled nervously, wondering how he possibly remembered that when I couldn’t.

“I remember Sirius got so drunk that night, he ended up sleeping at mine and-

“What do you want, Y/N.” Severus snapped, his entire demeanour changing as he made his way to stand in front of me.

“I need your help.” I repeated.

“With the Poltergeist I presume.”

I nodded simply in response, suddenly understanding why the students found him so intimidating.

He had changed a lot since school. He was no longer the scrawny little teenager whose clothes never quite fit. He was a man now, tall and built out. His clothes fit him perfectly, they even showcased the outline of a bicep on either arm. His voice was like velvet, deep and rich, and it hit my ear in exactly the right way. His face, while no longer youthful, suited the aged lines etched into his forehead. His eyes had always been my favourite though; dark as the night sky and just as mysterious. I never could bare the intensity of his gaze and experiencing it now made me feel just like that awkward 14-year-old again.

“Peeves is not one to be stopped. With exception of Dumbledore and the Bloody Baron he listens to nobody. A deal was struct with a previous headmaster to allow the spectre to have his fun for one month, after which he is not to intervene with the professors to ensure the sanctity of the school and the students education.”

“But he never tormented you.” I whispered, hoping to gain some more insight.

“I cannot help you.” Snape’s eyes saddened.

“Why not? Is it because we were never friends in school? I tried to talk to you Severus, I did, but you just never seemed interested, I- ”

“I cannot help you, Y/N, because I did nothing to deter the ghost.” I opened my mouth to object, but Snape never gave me a chance to speak. “Peeves never haunted me because he never wanted to. It is my understanding that before the castle was built, these dungeons were the grounds in which Peeves was brutally murdered, more specifically, this very room. The ghost refuses to enter my chambers at all. I cannot help you, Y/N, because the only place in this whole castle where you can escape the phantom is here.”

My shoulders drooped at the revelation.

“Oh.”

“I’m sorry.” He looked like he really meant.

“Don’t be, it’s not your fault.” I puffed, trying not to sound as disappointed as I was. “I guess I’ll just have to suck it up like everyone else, I guess.”

Realising Snape probably didn’t want me to stick around for some unnecessary small talk, I immediately tried to make myself scarce. However, while heading out the door I was forced to stop in my tracks.

“Y/N.” Severus called after me.

God, I loved the way he said my name.

“If you ever need a break from him. To do your marking or even just to read for a bit, you can come here. There door is always open.”

“Thank you, Severus. I really appreciate that.” Though it wasn’t likely I’d ever take him up on the offer. Being in such close quarters with a man like him was bound to set me nerves on edge.

Week 4

With 7 days to go until my living hell was no more, I was sure I could power through the fourth and final week.

Oh, how wrong I was.

Day one came in full force. I awoke to the deafening sound of fireworks; fizzing and sparkling at the end of my bed. My heart pounded in my chest; the combination of insomnia, my high caffeine intake and now this, heart palpitations had become a regular occurrence for me.

Nevertheless, I promised myself to power through the day, trudging out of bed to start my classes. I waded through piles of my belongings; the floor hadn’t been visible for a fortnight now and I was almost starting to get used to it. As I made my way to the bathroom, I flicked my wand turning off each blaring radio as I went, hoping it would earn me a moments peace before I was thrust into the chaos of Hogwarts.

True disaster stuck, however, as I approached the hall leading to the bathroom. A sharp shiver shot through up my spine as something squelched underneath my bare feet. I closed my eyes, praying it wasn’t what I thought had happened.

My favourite sweater lay sodden in the middle of the hall, amidst a pair of drenched leggings and a stack of soggy assignments. The hall had been completely flood, the source of course being; the bathroom.

“Please please please.” I repeated to myself as I gripped the door handle tight.

Giving me no time at all to mentally prepare myself for the inevitable state of the bathroom, Peeves appeared on the other side of the door, yanking it open forcefully, taking me with it. I was instantly flung into the deep end, finding myself standing in the middle of a domestic rain shower. The shower, the sink AND the toilet all had water spurting out of them, drowning the room until I was in an ankle-deep puddle. Even the bath was overflowing, given that Peeves had deliberately put the stopper in it before choosing to burst the pipes.

I let out a long and frustrated scream.

“This has gone too far, Peeves!”

A far away laugh echoed through the chambers, he clearly got his desired reaction out of me.

While tempted to succumb to the ghosts’ antics; ready to ball myself on the floor and cry it out. I remembered I did have one other option.

No longer possessing a sense of shame I trudged my way through the castle halls wearing only my saturated silk pyjama set and a pair of waterlogged fluffy bunny slippers. My hair clung to the side of my face in strands of tangled curls, the wet ends dripping onto the floor behind me as I walked.

“Please don’t say no to this.” Were the first words out my mouth when Snape opened his door to me.

“Alright.” He answered without question.

“Can I stay with you.”

“Okay.”

“It’ll just be for the week and I can sleep on the couch, or even on the floor but at least I’ll sleep. And I’ll have to use your shower too, as you can probably tell my bathroom is currently incapacitated. I’ll stay out of your way as much as possible, and I’ll literally owe you the biggest- Wait, what did you just say?”

“I said okay, Y/N.” It was clear the potions master was struggling not to roll his eyes at me forcing him to repeat himself.

“…But why?”

“I’m not quite as unaccommodating as people seem to assume. I’ve witnessed how much you have struggled these past three weeks. And I know, if you’ve shown up here begging for my help, it must be bad. So okay, you can stay for the week. But be warned, there will be some ground rules.”

“Oh My God, Severus I could kiss you right now. Thank you, thank you, thank you!”

If he were anyone else, I’d have definitely thrown myself at them, crushing their torso to show my sheer gratitude. With Severus though, I knew he was not one for physical forms of affection, and given that I was soaked to the bone I realised it wouldn’t be wise to subject my saviour to my same fate.

“We’ll discuss my stipulations after dinner this evening. Now you best hurry up and take a shower if you want to make it in time for your first lesson of the day.”

As I sprinted to his bathroom, I could have sworn I spotted a small smirk tugging at the corner of Snape’s lips.

He really wasn’t as grouchy as he let on.

[chefkids]

what do you think is going to happen to ebraheim in s3 :(

Grief and loss is a big part of the series with the loss of Mikey obviously, Sydney's mom, and now Marcus' mom, but we don't talk enough about Ebra who objectively has had it worst and seen horrific things. Everyone loves to talk about how Carmy is so traumatized, but Ebra literally lived through a Civil War.

He is a refugee from Somalia, we've seen him share little bits of information about his past, like his family meal suqaar, or when they were talking about forming a brigade he mentioned his time being in a brigade during the Somali Civil War. In Review when he's helping Richie after he got stabbed, he tells him the story of Black Hawk down battle of Mogadishu.

He definitely has some level of PTSD, he didn't want to wear a uniform at culinary school, and Tina had to reassure him that it "was not that kind of uniform" and then when she said there were a lot of Sydney's in culinary school he told her "Don't look them in the eyes." But honestly seems to handle things pretty well and is generally unphased by the chaos of the kitchen. Carmy clearly also has some PTSD from his traumatic upbringing that makes him panic, and I think they both find comfort in the kitchen but in different ways. Ebra enjoys the chaos and loudness while Carmy is about the perfectionism and order.

He was also arguably one of the nicer people to Sydney from the start and respected her quickly, I think because she reminded him of Tina in a way with how assertive she is but still looks out for people. He's also a feminist icon. He also knew they needed help and Carmy wasn't cutting it. He quickly saw the good in her by how she was giving confidence to Marcus. He was the one reading the review and being excited for Sydney and for The Beef getting positive recognition. He was happy to see it change for the better because he cares a lot about The Beef.

But seeing turn into something completely different and riskier with The Bear is scary for him and he didn't really feel like he was changing with the place and felt like he was getting left behind. He was very close with Mikey and worked there for decades, so hopefully we see them together in Mikey's flashbacks. He was also very worried about Carmy messing up the place and the system. I'm sure we'll get more Tina Ebra shenanigans, I think Ebra is a bit of enigma who is always going to be throwing in random bits of his dark lore. He's going to be in charge of the sandwich window in the back when it opens. He was the only one still wearing The Beef uniform, he's an embodiment of the past. But it's not just The Beef that is changing, the entire neighborhood is. I think the window in the back and the main kitchen are going to kind of battle it out. The Beef already has an established clientele and regulars, which are quite a different demographic than the people who are likely to dine at The Bear and it's going to be interesting to see how they all fit in together in Season 3.

[whetstonefires]

I think a part of the reason I feel so connected to JGY and XY is that I, too, think everyone is lying about what a good person they are. Sure, there may be a few genuinely good people, but those are in the minority and never claim the title.

I don't know about never; some people are pretty straightforward.

And in some ways the whole point of the concept of 'a good person' is that the feeling of losing the right to consider yourself one can impose instinctive recoil from doing wrong, in situations where you don't have the leisure of working your way through an ethics diagram and choosing the logically moral path before reacting to a situation. It has practical utility.

But that system can backfire pretty horribly too, in a lot of ways. It can be hijacked by definitions of 'good' that actually make you recoil from ethical acts because they're deviant. It can lead to disappearing up your own ass lmao.

And definitely the threshold for 'talking about how you're a good person' enough that it makes you suspect as either a) a liar or b) someone who values that self-image over objective reality and other people's wellbeing is. Not very high.

Jin Guangyao, ironically, is one of those people who's so performatively A Good Person in his public life that in retrospect it looks like a red flag. Which knowing this about himself in an ongoing fashion ofc just reinforces his own cynicism about everyone else lmao.

Even Lan Xichen, who I think he may see as a genuinely good person, he also sees as an easy mark who will reliably choose what is comfortable over what is 'right,' if you just structure the scenario to make that an easy choice that's easy for him to justify.

Xue Yang's bitterness is in many ways more exciting than Jin Guangyao's because he has a way more unusual relationship to reality, but it does share a lot of notes.

The role of deception in his psychology fascinates me because as far as I can tell he's as instinctively straightforward a person as Lan Wangji, albeit along quite different lines involving a total lack of impulse control, but has adopted 'deceit' as a weapon against the wicked world in the same way he has adopted 'murder.'

But when he feels someone is not merely lying but papering over bad behavior with principles they are not living up to he is livid.

People claiming to be better than him because they're 'good' when 'good' is a construct of privilege, is the underlying idea he's not equipped to articulate. Except he takes that and applies it to 'hitting me to interrupt my random murder of some guy who happened to be within arm's reach when I wanted to hurt someone.'

Which isn't like philosophically perfect, but the underlying problem he's actually reacting to is that he understands the social contract as a lie that has never protected him but seeks to control him, while protecting rich men it has no power to control.

Which it is fair to be mad about, but then his feeling is that since that's the nature of the world and all people, he is entitled to amass for himself the power to inflict hurt without consequences as much as he possibly can, and to use it against the vulnerable for fun, and no one is entitled to interfere.

Which brings him to a place where he is violently angry at anyone talking about trying to treat other people well as a value, because either they're a hypocrite and a liar or they threaten his entire system of rationalization for why he can be The Worst and still In The Right.

'Everyone is equally bad, actually' is like, an understandable take for anyone who's had cause to become embittered. Everyone is free to make whatever philosophical peace they can with the world and by and large there's no ethical weight to any such opinion, in itself.

But it's an ideological crutch people tend to wind up leaning on very heavily when they can't or don't want to take responsibility for their own behavior.

Which is an approach that Xue Yang, Jin Guangyao, and Su She all share, and which not only is shitty of them, it...traps them in a wheel of doubling down on their own worst impulses because rather than going 'that was bad and I shouldn't do it again' they've repeatedly invested all this energy into making what they did actually the correct thing, according to their interpretation of the context. Which means they're more likely to do it again.

(I think this is how Jin Guangyao became a serial killer, for example. He followed a doing-a-murder-impulse and then internally doubled down on how he had nothing to be ashamed of, so he was more likely to do it again, every time.

Wei Wuxian's strain of self-righteousness about his revenge was less...thorough than Jin Guangyao's, because he had the benefit of going after people on the opposite side of a war from him while Meng Yao's first known murder plot was against a shitty boss. But it probably didn't help him not try to solve army-shaped problems with mass murder, even after that stopped being allowed.)

If any of them had just like, zero moral sensibilities they would have created very different problems, and very possibly fewer of them. It's making a central goal of your operations 'self-vindication in your own internal narrative, created retroactively via reframing' rather than 'figuring out what I think I should do and trying to do that' that traps them in the self-reinforcing murder pissbaby vortex.

So if you look at it one way, these three villains are themselves perfect examples of how pursuit of the 'feeling of being good' (or at least 'not the bad guy') can make you worse.

Notably Wei Wuxian was also extremely sensitive to hypocrisy in his youth; it was the only part of Madam Yu's behavior he was ever shown objecting to. But he's sufficiently mellow and cynical from regret and burnout by the 'present' timespan after his resurrection to just get disgusted and alienated about it, rather than outraged.

He wasn't even all that mad at Xue Yang, though honestly that may be partly because he stopped entirely characterizing him as a person at some point during their interaction. Like, there's no point being angry at someone whose moral sensibilities operate exclusively on the plane of 'is this unfair to me' for manipulating and destroying people who were good to him, and then getting obsessed with his own self-pity about it. This is not a person who understands how not to be, metaphorically speaking, a cannibal.

And Wei Wuxian did know better and still got roughly the same result, so what business does he have getting angry?

Anyway yeah those two villains are both delightfully relatable if you sit down and put their perspectives together; they are clearly operating with the same basic suite of human needs and emotions as everybody else, without that being in itself particularly exculpatory, which is honestly refreshing. They've just got the most fantastically toxic interpersonal habits that knowing them counts as some level of Suffering A Curse.

Jin Guangyao and Xue Yang do both stand as scathing rebukes of the society that created them. But within the narrative, wherein they're people, the fact is that each of them had agency and one of the things they chose to do with it was develop rationales for why they were the most special little guy and everything was someone else's fault.

And their moral nihilisms, while also grounded in serious trauma, ping me as emotional masturbation of this variety.

[thenamesmobu]

What’s into the code au?

The Into the Code AU is my interpertation of The Stanley Parable

(Although it has been teetering to become its own storyline at this point).

So the premise of the AU is that it takes place in a byproduct dimension after the creation of the internet. From how vast and fast the internet is growing since its creation, it created a new plane of existence that's separate from our reality. From there, a lot, and I mean a lot of things would occur. Such as space and time-breaking rifts, two separate voids that work differently from each other, new living "organisms", and a substance that can be compared to radiactive energy; the Codes.

More info down below if you or anyone is curious. I am legit, actually, finally spilling the beans of my AU here.

⬇️⬇️⬇️

The Code Void

The Codes is the non-biological substance that comes along with one of the voids, the Code Void. Although, it's a "chicken or egg first?" situation between those two, as it's unclear which came first than the other. Either way, this void is chaotic, time and space clash onto one another, creating a void that is similar to a dark, static-y TV. (Time and space are prevalent in this void, as anyone can use the internet at anytime and anywhere, this actually contributes to expand this void.)

The Code Void is best to not be seen with the naked eye to someone who can't handle processing an abundance of unfiltered knowledge. In a worst case scenario, this would inevitably cause death, as the person witnessing the Codes would dissolve into Codes themselves. The Codes is also where my TSP cast get their source of energy from as the Codes can be bended and molded if done safely and accordingly. Also this is where my interp of Crows×3 live in, so yeah.

The White Void

There's a particular part of the Code Void that was somehow not affected by the expansion of it. This place is known as the White Void, the void where my TSP cast resides in, also known as The Parable. The White Void sounds what it seems, just a white void. But this place works similarly to a blank canvas, it can be "painted" by whoever the person putting effort into putting things in it. The White Void cannot be expand, nor can it shrink, it remains completely the same, regardless from the passage of time or the changing of space. Now due to this, the Code Void can't expand itself to absorb the White Void. However, the White Void has this "ability" to erase whatever or whoever's within it if the object or a person that's been specifically intertwined with the Codes isn't stimulated enough.

I'll get to the characters and the other aspects soon, I promise. But here is the info for now🗣🗣🗣

It is nighttime as I am writing this and I am a quarter sleepy. So I'm sorry if my writing seems kinda off with a few typos here and there

To be continued...

[nancyheart11]

Dads in a dungeon part 2!

They entered the next room and Abel had to close his eyes against the crime against architecture. There were pillars everywhere, going every which way, colliding smoothly before splitting gracefully like carved tree branches. It was horrible to look at, especially with the red, green, and blue intermingling with no rhyme or reason.

Wait… red, blue and green? Abel pulled out the triangle held within the delicate looking metal orb and held it out squinting.

“Well? The colors match up pretty well at least?” Rusl gave him an encouraging grin. Abel huffed at him, how helpful.

He turned the sphere and watched as the whole room, multiple large intersections as well as free floating pillars, moved–or at least the red ones did, which was the color the triangle inside now had facing downwards. Abel rubbed the spot where his growing headache was worst and walked onto the now conveniently placed pillar, walking up the somewhat steep incline until he got to the end, where he had to jump to another pillar. His foot slipped upon landing and Abel scrambled not to fall off the cylindrical object.

Heart pounding and feeling cold sweat run down his neck, Abel sat in place for a few precious minutes squeezing his eyes shut against the drop so long that it simply faded to black below him, with no end visible in sight. Rusl was calling something worriedly to him, and even Fierce’s loud rumble joined in, but Abel stood up and ran up the rest of the pillar.

Rusl and Fierce joined him on the now rather tight platform and upon realizing that there were many different nooks hidden around the room, had Abel stand in the middle and turn the triangle to whatever side was needed to get to the next platform for his companions. Abel was grateful they said nothing about him falling on the very first pillar, but by Rusl’s pat on the back he was sure they had noticed.

After far too much spinning of the room and a lot of backtracking that Abel was glad not to participate in they were finally able to leave the room with more rupees, arrows, and knowledge that the ‘twister,’ as Rusl had named it, was able to not just change orientation of things, but moved space as a whole. Abel was already planning on how they could use it to get to Link.

The next room was filled with lizalfos and easily taken care of by the trio; they didn’t even have anything besides pots to camouflage with! Once they were defeated, the hallway split in two directions. They took one and opened the door to many moving platforms that, after watching for a while, emerged a pattern. Rusl went across and came back with bombs and a smear of blood on his cheek, telling them there had been a Deku baba on the other side. The living, biting plant he described made Abel shiver, trying to imagine having to watch the very plants around them for attacks–taluses were bad enough as it was.

They went back through the split and found the door needed a key, which they quickly inserted. The room opened up, yawning wide, and on the other side was an enormous staircase. Only problem was, the staircase seemed to start melting only a short distance from the top. The first steps to be affected looked like chocolate that had been left in the sun on a hot summer day and then moved somewhere cool and dark to resolidify. Then they distorted step by step until the last clinging drips of stone stair led the eye towards the ground where a pile of what was likely once the rest of the stairs sat, utterly unrecognizable.

Why? Who would build stairs on such a grand scale only to then destroy them in such a strange manner? It made no sense to Abel. The shrines were bad enough, and those had the explicit purpose of training the hero for trials ahead.

Before he could think much more on it, skeletal hands pushed themselves out of previously unnoticed alcoves and revealed stals which attacked them in droves. Fierce took one side and Rusl and Abel took the other. Soon they discovered that those bombs were needed to keep the stals from simply reforming once defeated, though when Abel glanced over it seemed Fierce had no such trouble, figures.

After cleaning his sword and sheathing it for the time being, Abel began to explore the room. He hoped this one would have obvious clues, his head still ached from the pillar room. Eventually he realized there was a triangle motif cut into the ground reflecting the one he held in one hand, with a seed on one side, a healthy looking tree on another, and a stump on the third. He looked at the images and tried to figure out what in the world they meant!

Abel decided to simply turn the triangle blue side down to see what happened. He noted that like the other times he held the object, sides only seemed to shift when intent was involved, or else he’d have likely been flung off into the abyss when he slipped on the pillar earlier. So caught up in these thoughts he nearly missed the stairs moving, though not in a way he wanted. The stairs now dripped like melting snow rather than staying solid.

When he turned the red side to be down, the stairs flowed in reverse. It was almost beautiful to watch and see how they constructed themselves before him, looking as solid as any stone structure he’d known once every grain was in place. There was a click and Abel, remembering how the other stairs here had treated him, gingerly put one foot on the bottom step, hoping it wouldn’t be soft as sand to step on. To his relief it was solid, and together the group ventured up.

As it turned out the stairs continued beyond what they had been able to see from the floor below, though once they got out of the lighting from the last room, an alarming amount of webs started appearing, and they grew in size the further they went up. Rusl was happy enough to use an iron lantern to burn away the webs, but Abel couldn’t help shivering at how large a spider would have to be in order to make a web so thick.

He noted idly how even the webs were twisted by the dungeon, being circular, swirling things with twists and folds that hurt to look at too long instead of the normal patterns of sagging boxes Abel was used to seeing. He shuddered at the implications that any being within a dungeon long enough was changed by it, and felt his desire to leave increase to a painful degree, making his skin buzz uncomfortably.

They got to the top and torches lit up upon them stepping foot on the floor. Abel took two steps forward, felt something drip onto his head, and had the sudden overwhelming feeling that he was about to be attacked. Before he had finished turning around, Fierce had pushed him out of the way and a simply enormous spider was skewered on his sword. Abel shuddered but saw webs on the edges of his vision vibrating, so he stood up to defend against the beasts three men tall and very, very angry at being disturbed. Abel slashed and stabbed but his sword continued to bounce off the hard carapace of the thing.

“You have to hit them underneath! It’s the only place they’re soft!”

With that, Abel was finally getting in hits that pierced and caused sticky fluid to come out, until finally the spider could no longer hold itself up and he managed to decapitate it, watching its legs curl up so that he was sure it wouldn’t get back up for another round.

He fought another with Fierce, finding it almost laughably easy when the Deity simply flipped the thing over and stabbed into the floor before backflipping off with as much ease as he did anything.

When the last of the spiders was vanquished, a chest appeared in a burst of life, this one noticeably bigger than the other and decorated with horns at its corners. Fierce lit up, his eyes glowing brighter in his visible excitement as he went to the chest, pulling it open and presenting a much larger key than the ones found previously, the blackened metal twisting sharply around what appeared to be a ruby, managing to look both dangerous and wasteful at the same time.

Abel was not impressed.

Regardless, Fierce pocketed the key and they moved to the next room, which was empty. Immediately Abel looked up, wary of attacks from above after the last room. He found nothing. The room was almost painfully plain after the sheer obnoxiousness or feigned grandeur the others had offered, with only some plain ceramic pots in each corner to prevent it being entirely empty. That and the multitude of giant chains on the door, leading to a centralized lock that only Fierce could comfortably reach.

With a lack of anything better to do, Abel began looking in all the pots one by one. The first held a green rupee, which he grabbed and put in his pouch carefully. Pottery this old should be preserved after all, and he wouldn’t put it past the dungeon to have something horrible happen if one were broken. In the third group of pots he checked he found a fairy, napping at the bottom of the thing!

Abel dug around in his pack and found a spare bottle from something or other. He went to scoop up the fairy and hesitated. He knew it would be so helpful to have one, but could he really trap such a creature? He thought of Link’s scars that covered far, far too much of his boy, he thought of Tilieth’s absolutely gorgeous smile, and before he could second guess himself the fairy was bottled and being shoved inside his pack where he didn’t have to look at it.

Once all the pots had been checked, Rusl suggested they rest before going to the next room. Abel’s aching bones and head agreed, so he spent some time with his cloak over his eyes just breathing. Rusl came over and pushed him to sit. Abel grumbled minimally before–

Oh sweet Hylia, that felt amazing, no wonder he had a headache when his neck was so tense. Rusl continued to softly rub circles in the muscles and Abel could feel his shoulder come down from where they had moved up around his ears without him noticing. By the time Rusl stopped and shook out his hands, Abel was nearly slumped against the floor from the sheer relief the supposed farmer had provided without complaint or asking for anything in return. (He still remembered with dismay how much lighter their rupee pouch had been when Fierce came back from Gerudo Town.)

“Better?”

“Much, but uh how did you…?”

“You got that pinched look Link gets when he’s spent too long without a proper break, and you seem to carry your troubles on your shoulders, jus’ like him.”

Abel decided they have been in here for more than a day because such a simple sentiment had no right making him feel like chu jelly inside.

Then Fierce came over and glanced at Abel and Rusl.

“How did you do that, little Farmer? Is it possible to learn this? My Link could certainly do with that more often.”

Abel felt a flash of fear at the thought of the Deity trying to give anyone a neck massage; his back ached just thinking of the ‘pat’ Fierce had once given him.

Rusl’s sudden interest in the floor had Fierce huffing as he stood to his full intimidating height and pulled out the key. He inserted it into the lock, and Abel watched the waste of metal clatter to the floor before the large doors were pushed open and they entered, wary of danger. 

Standing in the center of the room was a pillar much like the ones they had set the stones in earlier. Where the others had shown a smooth dip in the middle for the stones to rest in, the one before him now had curving grooves carved into the bowl-like hollow that met smoothly in the middle. Abel pulled out the cage holding the triangle and felt a pang at the fact that he was about to give it up, but it seemed this was the clue he had on what to do next for the dungeon.

He gently set the thing down into the basin, having to twist it a bit to get the spindly metal aligned with the grooves of stone. There was a strange sound, like someone had taken a wind chime and thrown it at a wall. The sphere expanded impossibly, growing larger and larger until it filled the stone room and the pillar that once housed it had vanished. Abel nearly fell as the metal beneath his feet started turning, finding it hard to stay on his feet with the now constantly changing terrain.

He managed to find his feet among the swirling and turning just in time for the very walls to begin peeling away. The stones making up the walls churned and changed. For a moment Abel was worried they would be fighting some sort of talus! He watched as once the walls had created four legs and a body, with a blocky curled tail, the floor strayed towards the beast being made, to make the head. He felt a small shiver of relief amongst the heart-pounding fear as the spirals slowed, then stopped as less and less floor remained, leaving only a gaping, yawning black almost hungry in its completeness around them. Abel didn’t like his chances of having been able to jump from piece to piece, much less fight while doing so!

Finally the stone being was completed. It shuddered, glowing. Then horrible yellow and red eyes opened, glaring balefully at the group of trespassers. They drew their swords and began to fight. 

Immediately a rather large problem emerged. The lizard of sorts had used its tongue against Fierce, but in dodging he had fallen neatly through the gaps in the metal. Abel felt the whole structure shudder as a horrible screeching cry rang out from what he suspected was Fierce stabbing at the floor itself to stay airborne. The very tip of the double helix blade poking out of the metal proved his theory, but it was so smooth that it started slipping as fast as it had appeared.

So now they had lost their best fighter, had to fight in a hazardous battlefield–which would become more so the longer they took with the way another hole in the floor near the first puncture mark was made– and the lizard was made of stone, with no obvious weak point of ore like a talus.

Great.

Rusl jumped the gap and pulled out his golden cucco, hovering in the air with one hand and slashing at the creature’s tongue when it flicked out to try and harm him. Abel grimaced as he got out his bow, since Tilieth and Rusl were both better shots than him, but he truly couldn’t make himself even try to cross the gap. He’d noticed that the monster kept its eyes barely open until its tongue shot out, at which the lids flew wide open and the eyes nearly seemed to bulge, making them the perfect target to incapacitate the thing.

He missed twice before his third arrow landed right in the pupil of the giant lizard. It thrashed and stone blocks came flying off in all directions. Abel had to duck and weave around the shrapnel, coming dangerously close to the edge more than once in the effort to avoid getting hit. Rusl had dropped on what counted as the floor to avoid the flying rock, but once things settled he ran up the slope until pushing back into the air with his cucco.

“Now we just have to keep doing that! Good work Abel!”

Abel wondered at the complete trust Rusl was putting in him, and at the confidence that they would defeat the thing, Fierce or no Fierce. Abel pulled out another arrow and brought up his bow.

He ducked on instinct to avoid the tail sweeping his way while the tongue once again went after Rusl in the air. He blew some hair that had fallen over his eyes in annoyance, of course the monster was smart enough to try and prevent them from abusing its weakness the same way once more. This meant Abel had many more false starts, where he had to drop to avoid a tail swinging his way, but it was only the second arrow he fired that landed in the eye.

The rocks were more numerous this time, and faster too. He panted with the exertion of trying to dodge them all while staying on the narrow strip of metal that kept him from the abyss. He stumbled after a particularly tricky dodge and watched with a numb sense of impending pain as a stone came at him faster than he could move.

Suddenly the ear-splitting screeching of Fierce’s sword rending metal was much closer than heard previously, and Abel’s vision was overtaken by the large blade, only inches from his face. The rock plinked harmlessly off of the strange metal and the sword retreated back below the ground as the last of the rocks flew by.

Abel hoped that had been on purpose. He suspected that not even the mythical healing of a fairy would save him from Fierce’s disgustingly effective sword.

With the return of their ability to fight came a new challenge, because why would things stay predictable? The lizard would, after Rusl got a slash on the tongue, turn the color and texture of the metal and abyss, moving around and only regaining its stonelike state when it was about to attack them both again. So it took Rusl and him a considerable amount of both time and arrows to manage hitting the third time. Both acquired some cuts and bruises along the way.

Then the lizard rolled up, moving through the air like a wagon wheel from a particularly violent cart crash. Abel hit the floor as it came whizzing by and only cautiously peeked out from his hair when the sounds of displaced air stopped. 

It appeared that the lizard had changed tactics, for now it curled up and hid, sending bits of stone out that remind Abel eerily of pebblits to fight them. He had no blunt weapon with which to attack the annoyances, but when he caught a glimpse of the lizard out of the corner of his eye, it looked soft.

He managed to dig out a bomb while dodging the rocky pebblits, lobbing it almost desperately at the creature. He hit! Then the pebblit gave him what was sure to be a nasty bruise on his shin before retreating.

When the lizard was done moving violently through the air, the pebblits sent this time were noticeably more aggressive, and Abel found himself panting to keep up and dig a bomb out of his bag. He threw it, missed terribly as he had to jerk at the last moment to avoid getting clobbered again, then watched as Rusl was hit with a flying stone from the pebblit attacking him.

Rusl crashed to the ground, and instead of hopping up and going at the wall again like a madman, lay as a puddle of red grew beside him. Abel felt his eyes widen as he scrambled, what could he do? He had no hope of taking on this monster by himself–

The fairy!

But, in order to give Rusl the fairy, he would need to cross one of these gaps. He shuddered, but the pebblit charging at him gave him no time to fear as he leaped, his heart pounding in his ears and his stomach in his mouth. He nearly slid off the other side and scrabbled for purchase. A quick bomb was thrown at the approaching pebblit and he pulled out the bottle, trying to undo the cork with shaking hands. 

The fairy, apparently impatient, went through the glass bottle (why had they stayed in the first place?) and started flying in tight circles above Rusl, dropping glowing pink dust as they went. Abel held his breath, and only let it out when Rusl began to sit up.

“Wha? Oh! A fairy. I didn’t know we had one.”

“Oops.” Abel winced.

Rusl sent him a knowing look before clasping his outstretched hand and heaving himself up. With determination, they fought anew. It was hard and scary, but finally after two more bombs successfully detonated, the lizard separated into every individual stone, each vanishing one by one. The metal strips joined together to create a solid platform in the abyss with a strange door on one side. 

After the constant screech of metal and stone, arrows and bombs whistling through the air, and Rusl’s eye-burningly bright cucco’s cries, the silence was eerie, with only heavy panting breaths daring to be heard. Until Fierce’s head popped over the edge with a loud bang as his sword skittered away from where he was holding on with white knuckles to the platform and both Rusl and Abel were quick to help him up.

“I think… A nap is in order.” Fierce sounded strained, which was so strange coming from him that Abel blinked to make sure he was seeing things right.

“Cheers to that, Fierce!” Rusl only took the time to peel off his bloodstained clothes and use them as a pillow before he was asleep.

Abel couldn’t agree more, though before he joined his companions in the realm of dreams, he pocketed once more the strange, seemingly impossible triangle that had clattered to the ground in the middle of the platform.

@skyloftian-nutcase here's part 2! with a huge thank you to @bluevaractyl for helping me parse through my soup filled brain in making this much better!

[bumblebyaf]

the pricefield breakup was good

just finished double exposure and while the game had many flaws i entirely disagree with one of the biggest complaints i’ve seen both before and after the games release: the pricefield breakup. in fact, the pricefield breakup is my favorite part of the game and one of the most fascinating character writing decisions that defined a lot max’s character for me…so here’s my essay on why max & chloe could never work long term, the breakup was incredibly natural, and how its the only way for both of them to move on. don’t bother reading of course if you don’t want to hear any of these opinions <3 

to start off the bat (and this will be the paragraph people hate the most): max & chloe are one of the weakest lis pairings (and again this is obviously all my opinion). they honestly never even had that much chemistry to me and i probably never would have shipped them had the game come out later but since the game came out when it did and it was the first gay game i’d ever played and they were like the only gay rep i knew it was brilliant & i think nostalgia for this clouds a lot of what people see when they think of pricefield but objectively they never make sense as a pairing to me and i find their scenes together quite awkward or boring. chloe is an asshole to max throughout the whole game (and i am a huge chloe supporter, i understand absolutely where all of her anger and issues were stemming from and it made sense!) and max is either a pushover who just lets her do it or like entirely indifferent to it/ignores it i guess depending on how you play; and max is shitty too i mean we know she ghosted chloe for years and then went back to blackwell for like a month or whatever without ever looking up chloe and who knows if she ever actually would have. which like max doesn’t have an obligation to do that but she clearly wanted to after she meets chloe again and then she spends so much of the game thinking about how chloe replaced her with rachel when max left first and trying to just slot herself back into the exact spot she left (also chloe did not replace her anyway they were entirely different relationships). (unrelated but this is why i hate when people have max add her name to the wall in the junkyard hide out lol) max spends the entire game watching chloe die in several different ways and trying desperately to keep her alive which has got to make a crazy trauma bond/attachment and honestly aside from one or two very obviously written “gay” scenes chloe barely registers as romantically interested in max to me (which…yeah chloe is spending the whole game going through a lot of stuff!) right up until the end where chloe realizes how hard max has been trying to keep her alive/max has been helping her with all the struggles she’s having this week/backing her up with her family drama etc during a time where chloe doesn’t really think anyone cares about her…which i don’t know again seems like a trauma bond to me! and then max sacrifices an entire town for her? of course they get together. you also have to remember that this game takes place during like the WORST week of these two young girls lives it’s just crazy to me how people define their entire relationship/personalities by this time period 

also like i know a lot of LIS fans don’t love BTS because its a different studio and the original LIS writers never wanted a prequel & that for some reason a lot of LIS fans think rachel is the devils fucking spawn BUT thats a different argument (bts being my second favorite game & rachel my third favorite character) but after watching chloe in bts (still with Issues and trauma but less heavy and more shared) and seeing her fall in love with rachel there i could never see her with max the same way

also to be clear i’m not saying at all that i think max & chloe don’t care for each other deeply; i do believe they love each other my argument is just that this relationship could never really last long term and mostly stemmed from the trauma they were going through which brings me to the main part:

max & chloe breaking up makes perfect sense for their characters, especially the reason given as well. chloe telling max that she wants to move forward and live in the future but max is always looking to the past- this single line sold me on the break up immediately i found it fascinating! max does live in the past! its her entire power! her entire game is about rewinding over and over to make the perfect moment etc. max’s character is constantly being brought into question when it comes to how she uses her powers even when she only ever tries to use them for good reason (in particularly i really like the subtle way the comics handled this too, BY CHLOE, but i know not everyone likes the comics either and they’re obviously not canon to the games since they contradict double exposure lore as well. but in the comics an alternate timeline chloe criticizes max on how reflexively she uses her powers to save/help people without considering how rewinding a moment affects everyone around them as well- and how sometimes things go wrong but can work out anyway. this is proven by us also following a second timeline without max there to rewind and we see how those characters navigate the issues max erased and in some instances they turn out even better and i like a happier healthier chloe having this perspective).  i feel like the chloe we meet in life is strange is so specific to that one game (she is going through so much active trauma and it is literally like the worst week of her life) but the pieces of her i’ve seen outside of that game show me how much her character can change when given space to breathe so i don’t think its fair to hold her to just that week. i can very easily see how chloe would want to put everything behind her and try to fully move on/away from everything that has happened and this being the only way she feels she can move forward- similarly how max could spend everyday stuck living with the choices she made and the effects its had on her, how much harder it is for her to separate and move on. 

i also think it makes perfect sense that chloe could grow some resentment towards max for her mothers death- i’m sure chloe wouldn’t act on this but i can see them both knowing it’s there and chloe not really being able to help feeling it. i mean chloe really is fully accepting of her death in life is strange and its max who makes the choice to keep her alive (and yes it’s shitty of chloe to make it seem like a choice at all but that’s also just like…the game having to give the player a choice too). chloe has to live with knowing her mother and everyone she knew died so she could live and max has to live with knowing she directly made that choice and both of them have to just…know and live and think about this everyday they’re with each other how can they move on? is that not suffocating? with some space they can at least maybe start to really separate from it 

i also think chloe’s implied insecurities around max rewinding parts of their relationship also make sense to be honest…max spends the entire game trying to fix every interaction to be the right one like i KNOW she would rewind mistakes because i DID that as her; and maybe you can say max would never use her powers again after the storm but to be honest i don’t think thats true…i think she would never redo grand scale things again (except i guess she does in double exposure) but i just don’t know if i believe she could resist the temptation to keep her and chloe’s interactions perfect- at least in the beginning. i’m not saying she DOES but i GET it- i understand chloe’s paranoia (if it is just paranoia and not fact) because i don’t think i could trust either because i also understand MAX. max who killed an entire town for chloe & their relationship- wouldn’t you feel like you had to keep doing everything in your power to make sure it works? to keep it good, to keep chloe happy?  it’s a really complicated feeling for both of them i’m sure

and i think chloe is right when she says max is always living in the past because we literally see her doing it during the game. she’s still journaling to chloe, she keeps chloe in her wallet & on her wall, we keep having flashbacks to arcadia, max keeps a box of arcadia with her (even though we know she’s also been traveling/on the road most of her adult life), she’s never discussed any part of her past with her friends, her photography focus is about the lonely and abandoned. the entirely of double exposure is about max learning how to really stop living in the past and the harm it could do (through what happened to maya and safi and how its still happening four years later because no one ever really dealt with it etc) and that’s why this undercurrent and the pricefield breakup is my absolute favorite part of this game and the best part of it

i also think it’s really worth pointing out what a lot of people seem to have missed (in the complaints i did see); max & chloe didn’t have some horrible explosive ending and they hate each other forever now and the two are forever ruined or whatever…chloe simply saw she could never truly move forward with max and maybe more importantly she saw max could never move forward with her (how could max move forward from the worst choice she’s ever had to make in her life when she’s also sharing a bed with it?) chloe still loves and cares for her, max still loves her, they could be on friendly terms very easily- in fact i think the only reason they don’t talk right now is because of max (which is for the best during this time i think anyway) and chloe would be absolutely open to their friendship whenever max is ready. chloe wants the best for both of them & chloe’s text at the end of the game proves she’s still thinking of max & open to talking again whenever max is. max also has feeling by the end of the game that’s ready to really start moving forward from arcadia now and one day she will be ready to confront chloe again and i think whenever that happens the two will be really good friends again- like they always were.

[yeetspace]

Thought of another fucking beautiful way to deconstruct the whole myopic lens of all or nothing type voters who want to vote third party cuz the two main ones they know will win aren't ones they like 100%, hence why they're giving their third party vote. They know that not voting is bad they just don't want to not vote cuz they don't personally like the options given and so choose as though they should just be allowed to throw away lives for it.

There should not be a need for expansion on the idea in the first place let alone more that a single sentence that is just " I as a victim of this problem wants you to NOT directly contribute to it" And yet somehow that in itself is a hot take. Individuals who are currently being victimized by the systems at hand are in fact according to a lot of people I've seen here online, You know as a disabled queer person who literally cannot physically or safely leave my home cuz again it's a toss-up between either A: passing or B: breathing,at fault for that accordingly because they just chose to or cuz They haven't picked themselves up by their bootstraps but this weird stupid online left is rebranding of that phrase which is basically just that but trying to admonish the person for daring to not protest because they physically can't I've seen it seriously just dead up people actually getting mad at like wheelchair batting people for not doing shit it's literally just what's going on in the government being rebranded. Everything at the end of the day that is telling you that you shouldn't vote for the option of the two that can be chosen that will actively not make things worse is purity culture. You cannot have perfection if you can't have anything at all let alone should you try to choose the actively worst possible option because the other options, which by comparison are still intensely more good than that one worst option simply because none of the options are inherently perfect and fit every single concept and purview you personally want. One of these people wants more death the other third party group of people agree with that guy and then the other other two people don't she actively doesn't because she doesn't you know blindly hate things that look different from her for the sake of things looking different from her she's very much not good she needs to very much fix things immediately but hey wild fucking concept you should not have the perfect thing because that's not a real thing and blindly deciding against no choice at all because you don't have exactly what you want is the most childish fucking thing you could ever do it's such a weird thing to say but it's true it's fucking childish.

Cuz everyone knows that you only choose to be marginialised apparently. Like every single fucking argument against each way or whatever the fuck because that's what these arguments for a third party are are just AGAINST mutual aid at this point. we can say that objectively these arguments against mutual aid are actively just admonishing the people who are directly at only victims for the sake of " You're not capable of contributing to what I feel is important right now so that means you should just sit by the wayside and die while I posture about this without actually doing any of the options that you, a person also directly affected by these problems who I will pretend to care about yet actively tell you you aren't a part of it and shouldn't have a say and it cuz your inconveniently an example of how my "stalwart, perfect attempt saving of you" was not that which means YOU'RE bad. how dare YOU. only because I choose as such did they tell you how I'm an ally but I'm not going to do anything to help you but I'm your Ally definitely, But I'm just going to need you to sit and actually tell me anything of what to do because how dare you you don't have the ability to do these things you shouldn't have a say in that that's how that works and also I need you to keep staying there and we're going to point this giant fucking laser at your head and we're not going to move it no matter what it's going to sit there and if you get too uppity about not wanting to die we'll just let you die anyway".

Because you personally feel outside of the literal fact of the situation around you that you don't have power so just throw away the power you DO have to the people who want that power for the sake of doing the things you feel your powerless against to begin with.

Not being too mean I'm not being uncaring I'm being scared and angry at the people who had the ability to do fucking anything to help the communities have a part of who did nothing and are now sitting here daring to tell us about how dare we didn't do anything with our time? Because online leftists only care about looking right not beating right as it's turning out. Crazily enough one option is really bad the other option once bad things do but doesn't want the literal worst adject possible thing to Adam. I know it's fucking crazy but like when one thing is less than the other even though they are both bad things one being less than the other means that that thing is less than the other thing. I don't know how the fuck that gotness too but weirdly enough no. Just because both things are bad does not mean that one of them is not objectively worse is not in a way that is incomparable to the other objectively worse.

All of this is basically just an idiotic, myopic, self-destructive concept that just is " Well I mean we don't have the end result right now at the middle of the process so we might as well just throw the fucking pottery out the window right"

[iliveforyouilongforyouvesuvia]

How do you think the M6 would react to a lying MC? Whether it’s to them or some one else is up to you or how extreme the lie is. Thank you, Arcana Headcannon Jesus <3

The Arcana HCs: M6 and the lies MC tries to tell them

~ oh boy, i did not expect being called Arcana Headcannon Jesus to hit my religious trauma like that, that was a vibe check lol

considering how in the stories MC tends to omit the truth at worst and be painfully blunt at best, i'm going to write them as a terrible liar just as a personal design choice. and also because it makes me laugh. thanks for the prompt, anon, i hope it makes you smile! - brainrot ~

Julian

You can totally read his handwriting

You love it when he writes you love letters, they warm your heart, but truthfully you can only make out maybe a quarter of the words on the page

But you can't tell him that because you don't want him to feel like all that beautiful poetry went to waste

At least you think it was poetry

You're running some errands, does he need anything?

Ah, a list of obscure medical devices. Which may or may not be available. And he wrote it down for you, how sweet!

You're so busy trying to decipher the ink blotches that you don't notice his smirk

He totally believes you can read his writing, and all the words on the paper are totally not made up medical jargon

He never says anything because he lives for the moment he can bend over your shoulder and murmur the words he wrote into your quickly reddening ear

Asra

You don't mind the questionable objects they bring into the shop without warning at all

Nope, not the bidet-shaped flamethrower

Or the screeching rattle he replaced the shop's front door bell with that makes every incoming customer jump

Or their favorite painting containing colors that the human eye was not intended to see, prominently hung on your kitchen wall

Or the jar of kool-aid pickled garlic, which he still can't open even though it's been slowly emitting a toxic stench for the last month, and which he refuses to part with because he hasn't been able to try it yet

They love you, but they love pranking you too, and seeing your reactions makes them giggle

He would never cause you any harm though

Which is why their collection of poison spitting cacti stays in a pocket realm, next to the void that wouldn't stop teaching the stove salamander explosive curse words

Nadia

You know royal etiquette like it's second nature

You know all the titles there are, you never get things like pontifex and praetor and procurator mixed up

The table place settings make total sense, who wouldn't use a slightly different type of fork to eat every kind of dish?

And nothing entertains you more than petty politics, nothing at all

In fact, you don't even find Nadia's highly accomplished family remotely intimidating

They're perfectly normal people, just like you, and you are just like them, every move is graceful and your clothes are always pristine

Nadia adores your spirited approach and will happily move purposefully slowly at the dinner table so you know which fork to grab and how to eat the complicated dishes that get served

According to her, you know what you're doing better than anyone else does

Muriel

You can reach and lift anything he can, no problem

You just need a little more time, but you'll get it

You can get the fallen tree split up for firewood and carted into storage, no biggie

Okay so the sun is setting now and you started before lunch and it never takes him longer than half an hour, but you took a lot of breaks okay

But if he wants to spend time with you that badly, he can help a little

Now you just need to lift those bowls down to eat, you've got this, you're a good climber

You never develop any suspicions around why daily necessities always end up on the top shelves, or why Muriel is so open to you helping with outside chores

He likes being needed

The face you make when you're frustrated is adorable

And he loves that you will never admit it

Portia

Please, you can absolutely keep up with her energy levels

Walking to the palace to get a shopping list

And trekking down into the city and through the floating market, the center marketplace, and the south end market to get everything

All to climb back up countless stairs with all your purchases

And walk through all the hallways to give everything to the multitude of requesters

And then back to the cottage for the evening

So you can cook the big evening meal and sweep and mop the floors and spend a few hours weeding the garden

And then all the way back out to the Rowdy Raven for a night of drinking and dancing

And then all the way back home so you can go to bed

She never pressures you to join her, but she always invites you

Hey, she likes spending time with you and you're cute when you're flushed

Lucio

You believe all his tall tales, they're so realistic

Dove to the depths of the ocean and defeated a giant minnow? Totally

Took out a thousand trained killers with one swipe of his mighty gauntlet? Mmmhm

Climbed to the top of the highest mountain to pluck some stars from the sky, which is how he got these diamonds? Of course

He can go days without eating or drinking and never crave sustenance? That tracks, he doesn't have a gluttonous bone in his body

He knows he can be narcissistic sometimes, but he's not *that* delusional

But he likes seeing your little smile as you indulge his fantasies, because you do it out of love and not mockery

And maybe he likes pretending just for a minute that what he's saying is true

[rederiswrites]

I wish I lived somewhere else. Pretty much any other country, or even pretty much any other city would be better

Look, uh, I'm sorry you feel this way, but for starters, this isn't a question. And second, it almost certainly isn't objectively true. Even if you could objectively determine the worst place in the world to live, statistically you almost certainly don't live there. And you can't, anyway, because people have different priorities. I, for example, would find living on Svalbard hellish, but there's a Youtuber I sometimes watch who clearly loves it. I can see what she loves about it, but I cannot stand outside in my pajamas in temperatures far below freezing as she does, and so for me the cons substantially outweight the pros.

My husband, who has a way of making everything seem simple, saw this, and his take was this: "So make a plan, and move. Figure out what matters to you and what you're looking for, and make a plan. It can be long-term, but make the plan and stick to it."

It's simplistic but it's not wrong. Have a clear understanding about what you don't like, specifically, and break that down. The smaller the pieces you can break it down into, the more likely that you can actually do something about part of it.

We actually did this once. We lived in the city, we hated it, we said, "We're going to leave by fall" even though we had no idea how we'd do that, and then we did. Now, we had a lot of agency, in the form of money and no one controlling us, but we still took risks and worked hard. If you are, for example, financially dependent or a minor, those are things you'll have to deal with first, and sadly, the only thing that cures being a minor is time. But ultimately you'll be a minor for a pretty small fraction of your life, so work on the long perspective as much as you can.

Me, I'm just going to repeat that this isn't really a rational belief, and so part of you working on this is going to be working on why you believe something irrational. That's not a judgement on you, to be clear. It's actual advice.

[lunar-years]

I could possibly have stomached James being back and forgiven apparently, if it wasn't for the casually dropped in statutory rape, what on earth?? The writers were probably trucking along with their "everyone deserves forgiveness" train, meanwhile anyone with a jot of common sense had air raid sirens screaming "DO NOT LET THAT MAN NEAR JAMIE". I'd have been angry with the forgiveness side anyway (we see no signs that James is trying to be a better person or even that hes not going to try and beat the shit out of his son again, for all we know thats a court mandated rehab), but I could have sort of understood it. Adding in that fun little fact made James go from terrible horrific abuser to just completely unforgiveable.

honestly i completely agree with you. I know this is a very divisive arc and there were people who genuinely loved where they took it because it resonated with them in some way, especially for some people who have been through similar experiences and appreciated the recognition that someone like James could successfully change. I really try to accept and understand fans who have that opinion and I want to be very clear that I both recognize addiction is a disease and think there is nothing inherently wrong with wanting to or actually forgiving your abuser. Each situation is different! People suffering from addiction can absolutely recover! Individuals need to do what is right for them in their real actual lives, etc.

That said, the parts I loathe about the Jamie & James arc, from my own personal opinion, are:

any sort of relationship Jamie and James may have moving forward post-canon is inherently a complex one, but the writers did not address the conclusion of the arc complexly. At all. Instead it was "oh everything conveniently worked out and here they are happy and together" wrapped up in a 10 second flash-forward which is just...no.

there is absolutely no evidence that James' violence stems directly from his addiction. there is nothing to say a sober James isn't every bit as abusive as a drunken James. There is no indication that Jamie isn't putting himself back into a situation that is downright unsafe, or that he isn't at risk of coming into harm and being deeply hurt all over again. there is nothing to say James hasn't tried rehab before, and relapsed.

James never apologizes or owns up to his actions onscreen.

Jamie's decision to forgive his dad comes at a time when he's in a very vulnerable place mentally, having just come off a canonical depressive episode. He consults no one about forgiving his father apart from Ted, who is quite literally the worst person on the show he could have consulted (no offense, Ted, it's just that the man is incapable of being objective when it comes to Jamie and the father&son of it all). The decision isn't being made in a healthy state of mind and Jamie hasn't rallied a support group around him before taking the leap. From what we see on screen, he seemingly doesn't tell anyone that he's going to visit his dad in rehab.

there's a way that all of this can make sense. I can make sense of why Ted, with his own heaping helping of daddy issues, would give Jamie the advice he does. I can see why Jamie (again, in a vulnerable place) would take it! why he decides the right thing to do is to reach out to his dad! I can see him going to visit. I can imagine that visit going well or going poorly, can see James' stint in rehab being mandated, or also him checking himself it. But at the end of the day, those scenarios are all imagined! none of that nuanced context is provided on the show. Rather, the presentation and messaging are hasty and in my person opinion, flat-out dangerous. They lead the casual viewer to read Ted's advice as good (it categorically isn't), and Jamie as Doing the Right and Responsible Thing, when it's a hell of a lot more complicated that that.

it is also weird and complicated to have Jamie take Ted's advice over his mum's, who in the same episode, mind you, told him James was never ever going to change. again, we can jump through hoops to make sense of it, but we shouldn't have to.

there's absolutely a pattern of abuse being weirdly minimized on ted lasso/victims forgiving their abusers and i think that's gross. you can't claim to be a comedy show that dares to tackle real, tough issues in one breath and then expect us to laugh off abuse (Jane/Beard) in the next. Sometimes it's like they change what kind of show they want to be scene by scene, lol.

as you point out, in my opinion it is completely batshit on the writer's part to have introduced "btw Jamie's dad, who we've previously established beats him and verbally abuses him, ALSO proxy raped him when he was 14!" in the same season in which you plan to have Jamie forgive said father (with next to no buildup or context) just a few episodes later. Like, yes, let's add even deeper layers to Jamie's tragic backstory before we wash it away in feel-good reunion tosh! just, ew. what on earth were they thinking.

So all in all, I think the arc could have been successful if the writers had known where they were going with it from the beginning of the season and given it the kind of care that sort of storyline demands. However they didn't do that, and the end message is incredibly harmful as a result.

[the-last-thread-of-my-sanity]

Hello!! For the ask game: 3, 6 and 25 🤗

Yay! I love these!

(I actually answered this earlier today on sketchy public wifi and tumblr ate it so here goes round two)

3- Three films you could watch for the rest of your life and not get bored of

See, I love the wording of this question because it’s not a critically objective ranking- it’s just answering honestly about what I constantly rewatch 😂

First I have to say ‘Howl’s Moving Castle’- it’s my most rewatched Ghibli film. That movie feels like a warm hug. Is it the *best* one? Probably not, but I put it on all the time and it instantly reduces my stress. I love the colors, the score, the message.. and it’s clearly my most beloved Ghibli because I have a tattoo of the star children 🤩

Next would have to be ‘Fried Green Tomatoes’- it’s great for a good cry. Who doesn’t love a queer coded Southern Gothic made in the 90s? Plus, it features Kathy Bates having a totally valid crash-out in her local Winn-Dixie parking lot. I love how it depicts the beauty of living long enough to age and the almost spiritual bond women can have with each other through all the stages of life. Towanda!

After that, I think I chronically rewatch Sofia Coppola’s ‘Marie Antoinette’ because it’s an absolutely gorgeous movie to look at. Like a freakin’ pastry dessert of a cinematic experience. Pair that with the fun 2000s pop rock music which makes a biopic about a French monarch feel like a teen-angst film and I’m sold. It did awaken and stoke the flames for my hyperfixation with the French Revolutionary era also.

6- What’s the best and worst part of being an online creator?

The best part is definitely the people you meet and the different ideas and experiences and cultures you’re exposed to! I’ve been interacting in fandom spaces since like 2009 (I come from the Deviant Art and FF.net days 💀) and it has made me feel so interconnected with so many people. That’s an incredibly lovely thing.

The worst part is probably the moments where my hobbies start to feel like self-imposed chores. The little guilt that comes with taking a break from updating a fic, for example. But I’ve gotten a lot better about allowing myself to rest and only really engaging in fandoms that are positive and respectful and encouraging, etc.

26- Fave colour and why?

I love this deep teal green- not quite turquoise but something that feels a little more lush, with a little more depth.

I painted my home office/study this color and filled it with plants and trinkets and books and mismatched rugs and it is my happy place. It looks good in both dark and sunny lighting too!

I don’t often wear this color though- I wear a ton of black and sage green tbh