#would you change anything about the way you are now living? Why? 20. What does friendship mean to you? 21. What roles do love and affection

[in-my-feels-probably]

Older Art spoiling his 20 something yo girlfriend that goes to Stanford. She looks up to him and listens to him and does whatever he says and basically lives for his praise.

I Feel So High School (Every Time I Look At You)

Request: Older Art spoiling his 20 something yo girlfriend that goes to Stanford. She looks up to him and listens to him and does whatever he says and basically lives for his praise.

and: art being 10ish years older than reader? that’s all i got. go crazy

Hi! Challengers has been on my mind literally since the day it came out, and I think I've read every single fic on here about it, so I figured I’d give it a shot writing one myself. First of all, I combined your requests, hope that’s ok. Second, this is my first time writing for Art, so please bear with me while I try and get the hang of writing his character. I haven’t written a fic in weeks, so my skills are definitely a little rusty. Please be kind! Anyways, I hope you like this. Let me know what you think, and thank you for the request :)

(Warnings: none? idk, maybe very vague mentions of sex, art is divorced, swearing, i guess the age gap taboo. let me know if i missed anything)

—

You should have known trying to explain your situation with Art to someone else would’ve been difficult, but finally telling your roommate everything was just as humiliating as you thought it would be. She always had a knack for nosing her way into your business, and not even you were immune to her federal level detective skills when it came to getting information out of someone. 

“And I’m seeing him today,” you finished your rant as you sucked in a breath, wincing as you waited for the bomb to drop.

But it didn’t. Your roommate just grinned, standing up and walking over to your closet. You watched with a confused look on your face until she turned to you, already elbow deep in your clothes.

“So…you have a sugar daddy?” your roommate asked, trying to stifle a laugh as she rifled through your closet to help you find an outfit. “No judgment, I’m honestly jealous.”

You picked a pillow up off your bed, launching it at her when she smirked as you flushed. “I don’t have a sugar daddy! I have a…well—ok, I don’t know what we are. But he’s not my sugar daddy.”

“No, he’s just an ex pro tennis player with a famous ex wife who was also a pro tennis player that he had a perfect little girl with, complete with a house in the Hamptons. Now, he’s…what, exactly? A coach? A commentator? Part of Stanford’s glorified alumni? No, I’ve got it! I know what he is — hot. In a beekeeping age, recently divorced, kind of way.”

You rolled your eyes, standing up to help her look through your closet. “He’s only in his thirties. You’re making him sound archaic and washed up.”

“Look at you, gushing over him,” she grinned as she finally landed on something for you to wear, quickly handing it to you. “At least he has good taste. You’re hot, too.”

Your roommate turned around while you quickly changed, sitting down at the foot of your bed. She talked over her shoulder as you got dressed, her voice full of curiosity.

“So, how did this all happen anyway?”

You sighed, shaking your head. “Remember alumni week with all the guest lectures and presentations a few months ago?”

“You met Art Donaldson during alumni week? What the fuck! Why didn’t you tell me? I wouldn’t have skipped all my classes that week if I thought I was gonna pick up a trophy husband instead of being forced to sit through a mind-numbingly boring presentation from some guy who used to go here that I’ve never heard of.”

“Sucks to suck, babe,” you grinned, finished getting dressed. “I’m good, you can turn around now.”

She quickly turned around, patting the spot on the bed next to her.

“How did this even happen? I’ve never seen you step foot on a tennis court in your life, and I know they wouldn’t have asked him to speak in a graduate lecture.”

You sat down next to her, nodding. “He did a seminar down at the courts for the kinesiology majors or something like that. They were learning about sports related injuries and how to treat them. He told them about how he hurt his shoulder a few years ago during a match, and he talked about all the physical therapy he had to do.”

“You’re telling me you sat through a kinesiology lecture? On a tennis court? When you don’t even study kinesiology?”

“Absolutely not,” you laughed, leaning back against the headboard. “He told me about it that first week while he was here.”

Your roommate giggled, grabbing your hand and squeezing it. “Oh my god! Okay, okay. Spill. Now. I want to know everything.”

You playfully rolled your eyes, but started ranting again anyway. 

—

In truth, you didn’t really know what your relationship with Art was. You’d met when returning alumni who’d gone on to excel in their fields came to campus for guest lectures and demonstrations.

In a total mortifying cliche, you ran into Art in a hallway while you were rushing to a lecture that had already started ten minutes earlier. You would have been on time, but your roommate accidentally locked herself out of your dorm, and the RA wasn’t answering their phone. She had an exam she needed to get to, which—in her own words—“trumps your boring book lecture.” You had no choice but to turn around and save her, making the trek back across campus to let her in. That’s how you ended up running face first into Art, your bag and all your things scattering across the floor. By some miracle, at least the halls were empty.

You quickly kneeled, scrambling to pick up all your things. “I’m so sorry, I wasn’t watching where I was going. I’m late for class.”

“Don’t worry about it,” he said, kneeling to help you.

It was then when you looked up, and you felt your heart jump into your throat. Art Donaldson—famous alumni and world renowned tennis player—was crouched right in front of you, handing you half empty tubes of chapstick, a pair of headphones, and a stray pack of gum. Oh god, you thought to yourself. Why me? Why today? You quickly cleared your throat, standing up.

“God, sorry. Thanks…Mr. Donaldson.”

You cringed as you said it, the title of Mr. feeling off as it rolled off your tongue.

“Mr. Donaldson?” he raised a brow, shaking his head. “No, just call me Art. Uh, you know who I am? Am I actually still recognizable here? I figured no one off of the courts would have any idea who I was.”

You glanced down at his shirt, pointing. “You’re wearing a name tag.”

Art paled, raising a hand to awkwardly scratch at the back of his neck. Good one, he thought to himself. Very humble. He cringed to himself as his cheeks flushed, a small smile on his face.

“Right. I knew that.”

You smiled, pulling your bag back over your shoulder as you let out a little chuckle. “I know who you are. Stanford never lets us forget about their prized students.”

“Ah,” he nodded, grinning. “In my day, it was Reese Witherspoon and Jennifer Connelly. Although, Reese dropped out halfway through her degree, so they don’t talk about her much—”

“And Jennifer left Yale to come study here,” you finished. “That’s one they do still brag about.”

Art smiled, leaning back against the wall as he looked at you. You suddenly became very aware of your situation, tearing your eyes away from him to look down the hall where your class was. Art’s eyes followed, and he straightened up, clearing his throat.

“Am I keeping you?”

“No!” you said all too quickly, biting your tongue for a second before you forced yourself to calm down and continue. “Uh, my class already started. It’s not really important, he doesn’t count attendance anyway. And, to be honest, he’s pretty dull. He managed to make Jane Austen boring.”

“Not Bazin’s class, is it?” Art asked, making you raise a brow.

“Yeah, it is. How’d you know that?”

Art smiled, letting out a little laugh. “That’s why I came this way, I wanted to see if Professor Bazin still taught English here. He was a dinosaur even when I graduated. I’m surprised they still let him teach.”

“If they actually read the end of term course evaluations they make us fill out, they wouldn’t,” you mused, making Art grin wider.

“I guess I should let you go then,” Art shrugged, glancing down the hall. “Wouldn’t want you to miss out on something you could use in your scathing evaluation.”

You glanced back down the hallway at your classroom, but you couldn’t get your feet to move. You weren’t sure why, but you didn’t want to go just yet. 

All you did at Stanford was go to and from class and stay on top of your studies. It was monotonous and boring, and you were always up to your neck in papers and projects. Other than your roommate, you hardly had any people left you talked to or hung out with. They all graduated with their undergrad degrees, and you moved on to your graduate studies. Your education was important to you, but it got lonely. You almost never took risks anymore. But as you glanced back at him, that’s what you did.

You took the risk.

“Or…you could save me from my misery?” you stuttered out, an awkward smile on your face.

Art looked at you with an amused expression, tilting his head as he waited for you to continue. You swallowed, fiddling with the strap of your bag.

“My classes are almost all entirely in this building. I’m sure you’re sick of talking about tennis, but between here and my dorm, I don’t think I see enough sunlight in a day to keep me going. Maybe you could walk with me somewhere that actually sees the sun? Doesn’t have to be the courts or anything, although I can say with full confidence that I’ve never actually seen that part of campus and I’m in my graduate studies. Uh, maybe you’ve got somewhere in mind? Or you could let me buy you a cup of shitty cafeteria coffee? I promise I’ll refrain from asking you about your career. But, as I’m sure you can tell just by looking at me, I don’t really know enough about tennis to ask anyway.”

As you rambled on, horrified by your own rambling but determined to put yourself out there, Art smiled. 

He’d met a lot of girls over the years. Some girls who had a genuine interest in him but didn’t last, and some who saw his fame and fortune as a one way ticket to an easy life. 

None of them mattered. 

He had married Tashi, head over heels from the first moment he saw her. He had a kid with her, a career with her, a seemingly picture perfect life with her. It didn’t even occur to him to look at other girls until his marriage started to strain under the weight of his career, and he’d almost forgotten what it was like to look at a girl for the first time and feel that sickening but addictive feeling of butterflies fluttering around in his stomach. After the divorce, it felt so foreign to him that he didn’t even try. He had resigned himself to being a single father who co-parents and lives the rest of his life comfortably and quietly.

But here you were, rambling on with flushed cheeks and bright eyes trying your hardest to ask him out, and he couldn’t be more captivated.

There was just something about you. You were pretty, obviously. Anyone with eyes would’ve been able to see that. But there was something else, too. You were still young and not entirely pessimistic yet, with your whole career ahead of you. Probably no more than a few heartbreaks under your belt, able to muster up some sort of courage to fight for what you wanted. He used to have that, and he missed it — admired it, even. As you finally cut yourself off and looked up at him with mortification written across your face, Art saved you from further embarrassment with a smile. 

“Um…coffee sounds good,” he said with a shy smile. “Not from the cafeteria, though. If it’s as bad as it was when I went here, I’m not gonna let you waste your meal card money on it. There’s a cart outside of the athletics center, I stopped by it this morning. It’s still good.”

Trying your best to mask the shock you were feeling by his answer, you quickly nodded. “Oh, okay. Sounds good.”

You spent the entire afternoon with him. Coffee turned into lunch, and lunch turned into a long walk. Although you both had things to do, neither of you wanted to say goodbye and go on with your day. You skipped the rest of your classes for the day, letting Art show you around campus. He took you to all the places you had never been, and you kept quiet and let him show you anyway when you passed somewhere you had already been a hundred times. He was polite and asked you about your major and career goals, even managing a graceful smile when it was his turn to tell you about his career and how it unfolded after he graduated. He was careful to leave out the end, but he found himself comfortable enough to tell you about the first few years. You asked what you could, but you really didn’t know enough about the sport to ask much of anything.

“I’m boring you to death, aren’t I?” he asked when there was a lapse in silence after you passed a poster with his face on it for a Wimbledon campaign.

“No, not at all!” you replied, tilting your head up towards the poster. “I’m just wondering how you managed it.”

Art cocked a brow, turning towards you. “Managed what?”

“Not becoming a complete asshole,” you shrugged, making him burst out laughing. “I’m serious! You’re not the first celebrity to come here during alumni week. The difference between you and them is that you didn’t show up and immediately start bragging about how successful you had become. As far as I can tell, you’re the same as when you graduated. That seems pretty rare.”

“There’s not much to brag about,” he shrugged, too humble for his own good.

“A career Grand Slam isn’t worth bragging about?” you asked, turning away from him when he gave you a confused look. “Okay, fine, I may or may not have Googled you back in the restaurant while you were in the bathroom. I was running out of things to ask you, and I figured I should know something about tennis. Anyway, I was impressed.”

Art just chuckled. “I’m flattered.”

After walking a few more minutes, the street lamps turned on. It had gotten late enough in the evening that they were starting to light up around the darker parts of the campus. It was your cue to stop walking and look around, both of you realizing how long it had been since you started talking.

“I guess I should be headed back to my dorm,” you said, a hint of disappointment in your voice. “My roommate is probably freaking out by now. She knows I never really go anywhere after class without her—and yes, I heard how pathetic that sounded as it came out. She’s probably gonna call campus security if I don’t show up soon.”

Art nodded, knowing you were right. And yet, his feet didn’t move. Neither of you made any attempt to leave, still standing under the soft light of the street lamps. Art looked at you with soft eyes, absentmindedly reaching to fiddle with his wedding ring with his thumb before he remembered it wasn’t there anymore. Finally, he cleared his throat. 

“Well…I guess this is the part where I ask you for your number.”

“It was nice meeting you, too—” you started, doing a double take once his words registered. “Wait, what?”

Art let out a nervous laugh, shrugging. “You bought me a coffee, it’s only fair that I do the same. I’m here all week. Maybe you’d want to do this again sometime?”

“Uh, yeah! Yeah, that sounds good,” you replied, trying your best and failing to sound as nonchalant as you could.

Art smiled and pulled out his phone, opening his contacts. He handed it over to you, watching as you typed in your number before handing his phone back to him. You fought the heat pooling in your cheeks, fiddling with the strap of your bag. Art grinned, breaking the silence. 

“Go find your roommate. Tell her to call off the search party.”

You chuckled, nodding. “I’m on it. Well…bye, Art.”

“Bye, Y/N. I’ll text you,” he replied, enjoying watching you shuffle back and forth on your heels. 

He made you nervous. And for some reason, he liked that. He’d spent practically the last decade of his life perpetually nervous. It was nice to know someone else felt the same way. 

He watched you go as you turned around and headed back to your dorm, a distant but still familiar warmth in his chest. He’d only known you for a few hours, but he could already tell he liked you. By the time you made it back to your dorm and managed to come up with an excuse for your roommate who immediately interrogated you the second you stepped through the door, your phone was ringing. You excused yourself to the bathroom with a bashful grin on your face, answering the call.

—

You spent the better part of a week with Art when you both had time between your classes and his seminars. 

It felt surprisingly easy and normal talking to him. Your small talk about your careers and plans turned into more personal topics, and then you were talking about anything and everything. You were fully aware of the age gap between you two, but it didn’t bother you nearly as much as you thought it would. If anything, it was part of the draw to him. He was also kind and friendly, with a surprisingly self deprecating sense of humor that made you laugh. Not to mention the fact that he was drop dead gorgeous. You had to actively make sure he didn’t catch you staring at him when his head was turned. He made you want to actually giggle out loud, which is something you never thought you’d do over a guy.

By the end of the week when it was time for him to leave and go back to New York, you both were dreading saying goodbye. 

It was late in the evening, about an hour before he had to leave to catch his flight. He’d finally taken you to the courts, once again only lit by the street lamps overhead. It was the first time all week he’d stepped onto the court and actually wanted to be there, not surrounded by onlookers who knew every nook and cranny of his life and career. Instead it was you, the sweet pretty girl who made him genuinely laugh when you asked him why the points system would ever use the term love to describe a lacking score. 

He fiddled around for a while, teaching you a few serves and how to hold the racquet to hit the ball. Eventually he was on the other side of the net, watching you giggle and chase after the few balls he’d softly serve your way. He could hear you panting and the sound of your shoes skidding across the court, but your laughter was too sweet to make him stop. 

Finally, you stopped to take a break, sitting down on the bench. “Don’t look at me, I might cough up a lung.”

“Very impressive,” he smiled, passing you his water.

“Thank you,” you grinned, motioning between him in the court. “Go on, let’s see what you’ve got. I’m down for the count, but I’m sure the ball machine will be more than happy to fill in for me.”

Art smiled, watching you grin at him with flushed cheeks and glowy skin. If anyone else was asking, he wouldn’t have done it. He wasn’t interested in showing off his skills, or lack thereof to put it more accurately as of late — he’d stopped training as intensely after the divorce, no new tournaments waiting for him to come and win. But the look on your face when you asked was just one he couldn’t say no to. Plus, your knowledge of the sport wasn’t that vast. You probably wouldn’t notice if he slipped up anyway. And if you did, you’d be too kind to make him feel bad about it.

“If you insist,” he groaned, but he was still smiling to himself as he moved to the other side of the court.

You watched him play for a few more minutes. He really was something to see. Every movement he made was smooth and graceful, a far cry from the stumbling around and huffing and puffing you had been doing. Every ball hit its target, every serve lining up exactly where he wanted it to. As silly as it sounded, you actually had to prevent yourself from clapping once he finally slowed down and turned the machine off.

“Look at you go,” you smiled from the bench, handing him back his water as he walked back over.

His cheeks flushed pink, and he was silently praying you couldn’t see it from under the low lights. He was too busy getting all flustered to reply to you, and it made you smile. It was silent for a long moment as you stared at each other, before he finally stood up. You followed him, a sinking feeling in your gut as you realized that it was probably time to say goodbye.

It had been a week you had never even dreamed would’ve happened to you, and yet it did. The one risk you decided to take had led to the most fun you’d had in your entire time at Stanford. You didn’t want to see him go.

As you looked up at him with soft eyes and a melancholy look on your face, like you were looking to him for all the answers, Art felt a sharp tug in his chest. He found himself immediately wanting to fix it, wanting to make you smile again — smile because of him. He’d have done anything in that moment to get you to laugh again.

So, against his better judgment, he leaned in and kissed you. 

It was a spur of the moment decision, one he almost immediately regretted. But then he felt you sink into the kiss, your hands coming up to his waist to steady yourself. He cupped your cheeks and pulled you into him, unable to stop the smile spreading across his lips. 

And that was all it took — he was falling, and falling hard. 

—

That was months ago now, and yet, Art still found reasons to visit you. 

When there was lapses in tours, or it was Tashi’s week with Lily, he always somehow found himself ending up coming right back to you. He’d pick you up from your dorm, and you’d spend the entire day with him. On weekends, you ended up in whatever hotel he was staying at, telling your roommate you were going back home for a few days. When you weren’t together, you were constantly texting or calling. He even sent a postcard once when the ATP took him to Europe. It was cheesy, but you couldn’t wipe the smile off your face all day when you got it in the mail. 

You hadn’t exactly put a label on the relationship, but it was clear to the both of you that you meant more to each other than either of you cared to admit out loud. Quite a bit more, actually.

And Art wasn’t stupid — he knew what your relationship looked like. 

Recently divorced, a younger woman by his side. If they knew, the media would paint him as one of two options: an easily manipulated victim of a gold digger, or a washed up athlete who split with his wife that was now taking what he could get, the younger and prettier the better. 

But that wasn’t it at all for Art.

It wasn’t just sex, or a new pretty face. You were something different. A breath of fresh air. Someone who didn’t care about his career or money or fame. You had no interest in what he could offer you, or what you could get out of him. You never made him feel pressured to do anything or talk about anything he didn’t want to. He’d spent so many years craving a sense of normalcy and peace. Time and time again, he’d wanted to go to Tashi and beg for a break in his routine. But, always too afraid to disappoint her and everyone else watching him, he stayed quiet. He never got a break. As odd as it was to say, that’s what you were to him when he met you — a break. A minute to breathe, a moment to relax. He always felt that way around you.

Simply put, he was head over heels for you. He didn’t think he’d feel like that for another woman after Tashi until he met you, and it shocked him how easily the feeling came to him.

And it wasn’t just him that had fallen. 

You practically hung on every word he said, and soaked up every ounce of praise he gave you. You had never been with someone like him before. Someone so experienced and sure of himself, but just as gentle and patient as he was sure. He made you laugh and smile, and he made you feel safe. For whatever reason he had taken interest in you, you didn’t care, you just didn’t want it to stop. You clung to it, enjoying it while it lasted.

And if either of you had anything to say about it, it would last.

—

By the time you finished explaining your relationship with Art to your roommate, she was already pushing you out the door. 

“Go, go, go,” she squealed, tossing you your keys. “Wait!”

She wrapped her hand around your wrist, stopping you in your tracks as she glanced down at the outfit she chose. “Is that a new dress? Did he buy you a dress? Oh my god, please tell me he has a brother.”

“Not sure,” you grinned, smoothing your hand down your front. “Show up to alumni week next time and find out.”

You were already pressing a kiss to her cheek and rushing down the hall before she could get out another word, giggling as you made your way to the stairs.

On the drive over to the hotel, the nerves in your stomach were making you nervously tap your fingers on the steering wheel. You must’ve got caught by every stop light, making the trip even longer. You were practically vibrating once you finally pulled into the parking lot, grabbing your bag and hurrying inside before your nerves got the better of you and made you stand like an idiot in the lobby, trying to muster up the courage to get in the elevator. You coasted on autopilot as you forced your feet to lead you upstairs to his floor, all the way down to his door. You only came back into your body when you raised a hand to knock on the door, pausing to take a deep breath.

Just knock, you thought to yourself. You’re a big girl. Just knock.

You had barely even knocked twice on the door before the door swung open, and you came face to face with Art. Your breath hitched in your throat, and you took a second to take him in. Still as pretty as you remembered, and every bit as alluring. You could feel yourself melting. 

The feeling was mutual. 

Art let out a sigh of relief, like it was the first good breath he had taken in weeks. A genuine smile crept onto his face as he reached for you, practically making grabby hands like a child. 

“Come here, pretty girl.”

You tried and failed to stifle a giggle, immediately burying yourself in his chest. You let out a hmph as you pressed your cheek against him, your arms wrapping tightly around his waist. You could feel his thumb running along the bare skin of your arm, his lips pressing a kiss to the top of your head. He nudged the door closed with his foot, tugging your bag from your shoulder and setting it on the floor without even letting you go. He was warm to the touch, and steady against you. He hummed into your hair, squeezing you tighter.

“There she is,” he murmured, letting out a small laugh. “My girl.”

“Hi, baby,” you giggled, the sound making his heart soar in his chest. 

He slowly walked you backwards to the bed, supporting most of your weight as you laid down. He was quick to follow, burying his face into the crook of your shoulder. His arms hooked lazily around your waist, his weight pressing you into the mattress.

This is what you both had been waiting for. This feeling, this moment. Just this.

“You look very pretty today,” he whispered into your skin, pressing a kiss where his lips rested. “All this for me?”

The humor in his voice made you grin, your fingers running through his hair. “Couldn’t let you be that pretty all by yourself.”

Art smiled, pressing his face further into your neck as he let out a breath. You tightened your grip around him, holding him close. You let your eyes close, resting your cheek against the top of his head. 

A comfortable silence fell over the both of you, as easy as it ever was.

—

A/N - Hi! So sorry this took so long to get out, thank you for your patience. I keep rereading this and editing it over and over, I’m not totally happy with it. But something is better than nothing, and I’m tired of staring at, so here you go! Hope this is ok, let me know what you think :)

[wttcsms]

hello, entering my shoujo romance long one shot era. i need you all to tell me which character from bllk or hq (or even bnha) you think would rock this shit out of this concept:

reader is living with a time limit. born with a rare and degenerative heart condition, you’re not going to live to see your 20s. which is why for right now, you’re going to make the best of it by living your life to the fullest. never one to shy away from a challenge, you do something very few girls in your grade can only dream of doing: daring to confess to character. he’s blunt and keeps to himself and he’s not shy about rejecting anyone. and you catch him after class one day, presenting him with your confession written neatly on pink paper cut into a heart and you tell him that you like like him.

“i don’t like you that way at all.” he tells you, the flat expression on his handsome face never changing. your smile remains, and this catches his attention. usually, girls would be upset by now. he’s not sure what you’re playing at.

“i figured you would say that. thanks for your honesty anyway.” before you can skip away, he has to know:

“if you knew my answer, why bother asking?”

“it’s on my bucket list.” you explain. “confess to my high school crush!”

after revealing that you’re probably not going to live past graduation, character has a bit of a change of heart. it’s not like he hates you or anything. you tell him you don’t want his pity, and he’s adamant that it’s not.

he’s just curious, that’s all.

so the two of you spend the rest of the year and the summer crossing off all your bucket list items together (win a school festival challenge, have a beach day during summer vacation, eat so much ice cream you get a brain freeze, watch the fireworks festival with someone you care deeply about, etc!!!) and during this process, character realizes that he actually does like like you. right before he can confess, you know about his change of heart.

it’s why you tell him, with an apologetic smile, “this has been so much fun! but i wanted to tell you, i know you’ll never like me in a crush way, and that’s okay. i actually don’t like you that way anymore, and im glad we’re just friends.”

the truth is, you’re going to undergo surgery with a low success rate. you don’t know if you’re going to make it, and you don’t want to fill him with false hope. he has his whole life ahead of him, after all.

[kaceythecrunch]

RANT. (sturntok.)

Yall. Im so mad. Sturntok pisses me the fuck off to the point it isn't even funny anymore. This might be messy, so bare with me.

Tara. Why the fuck is everyone pressed about Tara hanging out with the triplet, specifically matt and Chris. Yall are acting as if it was only two of them, like they're on a date. They were with fucking I don't know, 8 other people? Like why does Sturntok care who they hangout with? Did you not learn from elementary school to mind your bees wax, or business? You're probably 15. They're literally 5 years older than you. There is no way, in any universe they're gonna date you girl. ALSO TO SHIT ON TARA?? LIKE GIRL. FIND SOMEONE ELSE TO SHIT ON CUZ HOMEGIRL DONT CARE. SHE DONT CARE. SHE IS STRIVING AND LIVING LIFE LIKE YOU SHOULD GIRL. Live life and don't care. You'll probably have a positive outcome. No cuz y'all know how Chris owns the Saturn necklace thing? Its vivienne underwood. It's less than 20 bucks on Amazon. Also when was the last time y'all saw Chris wearing that necklace girl. Also there's a post from like months, or I think a year ago of Tara wearing the same necklace. These fucking tiktok girls are so annoying. Like we get it, everyone wants to be Tara. (she's my gf.)

Podcast. I saw a bunch of btiches shit on the podcast. Like cmon. THEY ARE PRODUCING AN HOUR LONG VIDEO FOR YALL EVERY WEEK. Mfs are burnt out, you're lucky that they even produce content for you ungreatful hoes. Like lwk, I'd rather have them remove Wednesday videos. I remember when they first started their podcast that they were really excited to start and stuff. I also remember, I believe it was their earlier vlogs. When they were still living in Boston and they haven't like went to LA yet, they were talking about turning their basement into a podcast room. Like cmon. This is something they've been wanting to do and you hoes just don't appreciate anything. Like have y'all's mama's not been pissed at y'all for not appreciating her food. Live life positive and not negative tf. But ofc, I respect their decision.

Intro. Yall just love to shit on everyone. Ruining the party. Sturntok reminds me of the kids-the class "clowns" who would be so shitty to the teacher for no reason and would ruin fun things for everyone. Like guys, I think we should all as a community bully Sturntok. It requires a bit more bullying, just to knock some sense into their heads. Anyways, back to what I was ranting about. I loved their new intro. its a new era. A new them. Change. Is. Fucking. hard. I understand that you love the teens from Boston running around making fools of themselves. Me too, I shall admit it. But in order to get sponsorships, to get the little paring things. (For example, them sponsoring Celsius, even becoming the youtooz thing.) Like they gotta act more professional.

Change. This tied in with the last few things. CHANGE IS HARD. CHANGE IS A DIFFICULT THING. But how the fuck are you gonna live life, and enjoy life when your stuck on one thing forever. Change is needed for growth, and for learning. Like guys, THEYRE 20. I think that's something y'all forget. They aren't teenagers anymore. Its kinda like how when everyone went into middle school and started to not like kiddy things when you still liked kiddy things. When I was in middle school I still like to play with Legos, draw, watch anime. Until I hit 7th grade, aka everyone's downfall. I still enjoy some of those things today but I changed because people in middle school stopped like those things and its embarrassing (well for me at least) to show up in school with anime shirts cuz I'm getting older. Thats what they're feeling I guess. Again, theyre 20 now.

Crazy ass mfs. Crazy, as in them soft mf's on sturntok. Also what pisses me off more is that they're coming here on tumblr. Like no, I know your soft ass belongs on Wattpad bffr. I have a long rant about this one, so bare with me again. They are so so so so so SOOOOO sensitive about the "spicy edits." Sometimes the fucking video frame isn't even about something "spicy" aka- them being shirtless, video frame near their crotch. It was when there was a song about sex. How soft can you be. Most songs these days are about sex. Some songs y'all probably didn't know about was about sex. (cake by the ocean for example.) LIKE LETS ME FOR REAL. MOST SONGS ARE ABOUT SEX. Also with the tiktok audios being removed like cmon. Not everything is about sunshine and rainbows. I remember I commented on a Chris edit and I was like.

"I need this man in my life. He's so hot."

"you're fucking gross. He's a human being and do you know how grossed out he would be if he saw that you said this? (bullshitbullshit,morebullshitandstupidness.)"

Yeah, keeping fucking running your mouth. THIS TIKTOK HAS LIKE 4K VIEWS. DO YOU WANNA KNOW HOW MUCH FUCKING FOLLOWERS THE TRIPLETS HAVE? YEAH. THAT'S NOT EVEN A QUARTER OF WHAT THEY HAVE. THIS VIDEO HAS 1K COMMENTS. ARE THEY FUCKING HUNTING ME DOWN?? MY COMMENT HAS 3 LIKES. WHY WOULD THEY CARE TO FUCKING CHECK GIRL. ITS ALSO TELLING THE FUCKING PERSON WHO EDITED THIS THAT THIS EDIT WAS FIRE AND THAT THEY MADE THE EDIT HELLA GOOD. UR FUCKING LUCKY I KEPT MY ANGER TO MYSELF CUZ OH GIRL. I WOULD SUCKER PUNCH YOU. You know whats also funny? They're the same people who will be pissed with when they see matt or Chris with a female. Like girl. You're calling me fucking gross? Do you think how much more worse that is than my comment? You ruin friendships. OG sturniolo fans know that they've been friends with girls. If you genuinely care, yall would know that nick made most of matt and chris' friends. Meaning most of them were females. SO OBVIOUSLY THEYRE GONNA HAVE GIRL FRIENDS. I remember watching the Zach sang pod when nick was on and he explained that matt usually doesn't make the friends. Theres a joke where matt says "I'm gonna make a friend that wasn't originally nick's friends." smth like that. Anyways, off topic. Just because they are seen with a girl, doesn't mean they are fucking dating them. Like shut the fuck up. please. Respectfully shut the fuck because I'm a nice person. Also Chris gives off major virgin vibes lets bffr.

Madi. Yall hate so bad on Madi and its fucking grossing me out. Why do you have to ship her with matt and chris??? Literally to the point they can't even put her in photo dumps or videos. You just gotta ruin it for everyone, huh? shes fucking gorgeous, and she's so funny in videos. Plus, when she does talk shes hillarious. She literally reminds me of Matt. She doesn't fucking talk much because she is more of a listener.. Like guys bffr. How can you hate her when she barley spoke in videos. Like respectfully, shut the fuck up. Yall just jealous shes pretty.

Calling Nick fine. I also hate them mfs who are always running their mouth about girls calling Nick fine. Lets bffr. Y'all didn't think a gay guy is fine? I'm sure you've had a crush on one gay person before. And if you haven't trust me. You will. I had a crush on my gay friend in 8th grade. I feel like its a canon even in every girl's life. anyways, I hate when girls will be scared to call nick hot.

"Nick is so fine. But like as a cool guy friend way. Please don't attack me."

POOR GIRL BELIEVES SHE IS GONNA BE ATTACKED IF SHE CALLS A GAY MAN FINE. Sturntok leave her the fuck alone. He's hot as fucking and I will kill civilians if I'm not given more nick edits. He's so fine. Literally the hottest triplet.

If u made it here thanks. There was shit on my chest that I really needed to let out. What have we learned today?

Sturntok can suck my fucking dick.

Thanks goodbye.

Me to Sturntok :

[angelicbeaut]

Manifesting An Ex Back (Success Story + Advice! Long Post!)

Recently, I have been trying to apply the law and really distance myself from social media and loa accounts. For me personally, it is a lot of information at once and can be quite overwhelming, although I still enjoy reposting content I find to be helpful to my fellow manifestors. It has done wonders for me to allow myself to watch the law work, and today, I would like to share with you some things that helped me achieve one of my latest achievements, manifesting my ex back after 1 year of no contact. I hope this can help others to continue to be motivated. If you are interested, please read onward!

So, let's start by laying out the guidelines of how I view manifesting:

1. time does not matter. It has no control over if you can manifest anything, and in my head, it does not exist. I simply am unaffected by it, I know that I will have what I want regardless.

2. You are manifesting self. You are not going to get something, this is not a grocery shopping trip to purchase something. You got all the ingredients that you need at home, right in your beautiful mind. Do you have self? Then you have everything you need. Now, take it a step further, are you the "self" that has your ex partner back in your life, or the "self" that doesn't?

3. Everything is you pushed out / There is NO separation. Everything you believe is pushed out into your reality. Do you believe your ex hates you? Then they hate you. Booyah! Do you believe your ex loves you? Then they love you. There is no separation between you and them, there is no separation between you and any of your desires. All you must do is match your thoughts to that desire, and you will have what you want.

4. Persistence is Key. I remember when I first started my journey here, and I hated hearing this. It was like nails on a chalkboard. How long do I have to persist? Why? For what? This is why I will continue to stress that time does not exist, if you hyperfocus on the time passing on this planet, you will never get it. Because your focus is on time, not on your desire. Know that it is done, and it will be.

5. How it happens is none of your business. Read that again. You should not be focused on how am I gonna get to, what am I gonna do, how's it gonna happen. Who cares, quite frankly. Do you want your desire or not? Then want the desire, stop wanting for the in-between, it will happen in means you cannot even imagine. I promise you. It will be so out of the blue you won't even see it coming (more on that later).

6. Dominant thoughts manifest / robotic affirming. I used to believe this was bull, I'll be real. I won't sit here and act like I've always been a robotic affirming girly. However, it's sort of like vaunting but it's just one phrase. Changing your mindset can change your life. It starts by changing your dominant thoughts about your desire, or even about manifesting itself. The easiest way for me has been any time I get a negative thought, I turn on a 20 minute timer and I think or say my desire. It's like disciple. Whenever your teacher saw you disrupting class and they had you continuously write the same thing on the board, that was affirming. We were just too young to realize. Of course it sucks, but it taught us that we didn't want to end up in that position again. I robotically affirm because I don't wanna end up in a reality where I don't have what I want, it teaches me to keep my thoughts on my desire. It also dulls out the negative thoughts from rising, such as the continuous writing on the board dulls the child's want to continue the bad behavior.

My ex and I had officially stopped talking in Auguest of 2023. It was abrupt and feuled by arguments. We were both fed up with our own lives and we could no longer take care of each other. We ended on bad terms and I was in full belief he would never speak to me again and I wouldn't speak to him. I believed he hated me for a good while. But, in manifesting we have have to understand that nothing, and I mean NOTHING is set in stone. All we have is present and even that is ever changing. A simple change in perspective can open millions of possibilities.

Now, On to the Success Story Darling.

The first thing I did was process my anger. I hated him. The version of him that I was manifesting sucked, and I gave myself full right to feel that. You have the right to be angry and frustrated, emotions flow, so let them. Do not hold them, or you hold your state of being and solidify your reality for yourself. You are in complete control of everything, so process what you got going on before you do ANYTHING.

Second, I need you to have a funeral. I need you to kill the version of them that you created. Metaphorically, anyway. Let them pass away, forgive them, let them die from your reality. As a very emotional person who often feels like my emotions are very big and overwhelm me, I now use them to my benefit. I was crying like he had really gone away. Then I decided that a new him, the version of him that had learned from his mistakes, that had taken time to work on himself, the one that loves me, rose in his place.

I decided that I was open to meeting this new him, that I would meet him. That my experience would be completely different, that I would be refreshed. Every time I thought of him or had doubts, I would robotically affirm or sometimes even just tell myself, it is done. My main focus outside of this was changing myself, I changed what my definition of love was, I changed the way I loved myself, I changed the way I thought about myself, I continued to live my life. There is nothing to do, just be.

Before I knew it, Christmas was passing, and so was his birthday, it was the new year and then it was college graduation, and then it was summer. So much time had passed and I wasn't even thinking about it anymore. Of course the sneaking doubts would come but I would know it was done. If I didn't, I would say it was until I felt satisfied in my knowing.

Now, Let's get into how this started showing up in my reality and the final success. :)

1. Hearing his favorite songs/or songs we used to listen to

2. Discovering old music I listened to when I was with him. Like it would randomly show up in my playlist.

3. Dreams. Oh my god he was in my dreams, I was waking up like what is going on.

Remember that these are not your desire, they are manifestations of your ever-solidifying belief (imo) Do not accept it as the end until you get what you want.

The Success

Yesterday afternoon, I was scrolling on my phone, I wasn't thinking of anything really I was just enjoying making lists on Amazon (it's my thing, it's an addiction), and I saw a notification on cash app. I was thinking, oh did my mom send me money? Period! TELL ME WHY I OPEN MY PHONE TO SEE IT IS MY EX SAYING HE NEEDS TO REACH ME. I sat in a feeling of a full circle moment, and at that moment it all clicked. I had persisted. At this point I believed he was coming back and he did. Neither of us have much social media, I had changed my number, I had blocked him on most apps and so did he. I DID NOT EXPECT IT, I DID NOT KNOW THE MEANS AND YET IT HAPPENED. I send him my number and before I know it we are on the phone, he is repeating everything I said to myself, everything I wanted to hear. Even if I could not see the movement, it was always there.

He told me he had never stopped thinking about me, that he had cleaned himself up mentally and had started practicing meditation (again, didn't see that coming, he was not the type) and that he was sorry for everything. He said I was on his mind 24/7, the entire time I was affirming (no separation) he was feeling and thinking the same thing. He had tried finding any possible way to reach me, he was dreaming about me none stop. He prioritized his mental health, he focused on getting better, he became a better person, even though he admits that he is working tirelessly to become his best self for himself.

He said he wanted to see me, and now we are going on a vacation in the next comign months and he is taking me on a vacation to Disneyland on my birthday. Flights, hotels, excursions? Booked. He took out his laptop and immediately booked everything, literally. And we stayed on the phone all night until we got tired, and I just had to write this.

Please persist. Please keep trying. Please don't give up, you are so powerful, even when it seems like nothing is happening, something always is. Check your negative beliefs at the door, and get what you want. And if someone tells you that you can't manifest your ex or you shouldn't, I want you to remember who the god of your reality is. That's you right? Period! So go manifest!

Luv yall sm ♡

Che☆

[thatmrmiller]

Give an Inch, Take a Mile

Pairing: Dark!Joel Miller x f!Reader

Warnings: 18+ smut, Dead Dove Do Not Eat. Death, alcohol consumption, drugging, manipulation, significant age gap, noncon, virgin!reader, forced breeding, likely other very dark themes throughout. Read on at your own risk.

-

When Joel found out your dad had left you here alone when he went on a supply run, he checked in on you now and then.

It was relatively innocent at first, partially out of genuine concern.

The more he dropped in, the more this changed. He started to grow interested in you in a way he wasn’t before, noticing things like your wide eyes and mature figure.

He wasn’t sure how old you were. Probably in your 20’s, but things were different here in the QZ. People didn’t experience as much as they used to. So you likely seemed younger than you would be for your actual age in the outside world.

He came to the door one night after curfew, knocking quietly to avoid drawing attention. You answered in sleep shorts and a large oversized tshirt. Probably belongs to your dad.

“How you doin’, hm?” He asks, leaning against the doorframe intrusively.

“Fine, Joel, thank you for checking on me. But its late.” You rubbed your eyes a little. He found it quite endearing.

“I know that darlin’, past curfew, you gonna leave me on the step for FEDRA to find me?” He challenges, his voice remaining soft and gentle.

“Um, no.” You say, frowning a little and moving out of the doorway and allowing him access to your home. You don’t know why he does this, you don’t know if your dad asked him to.

You don’t think so, your dad trusts you and plus, you don’t really know Joel that well. There are other friends of your dad’s who you would be more comfortable checking in on you.

He settles himself onto the couch without permission and you watch him carefully. He reaches into his jacket and removes a small pocket flask.

“Come sit.” He beckons you to the sofa.

It’s a little unnerving, the way he comes into your home and commands the space so easily like it belongs to him.

You perch nervously on the edge of the sofa trying to keep your distance from him.

“When did your dad say he would be back?” He asks you kindly.

“Saturday at the very latest.” You respond quietly.

“And what day is it today?” He muses.

“Tuesday.” You murmur.

He hums in response.

“I know that route well.” He says. “Never known someone to take this long. It’s an easy one.”

You frown at him. Obviously, you were already aware that he was late and you are nervous about his return. You don’t know why he is telling you this, as it only serves to make you even more anxious.

He smiles at you but it doesn’t reach his eyes and is a bit unsettling. “I’m sure he’ll be back soon, honey.”

You don’t answer. He continues drinking his whiskey in your living room even though you don’t talk to him.

After a while, he gets up to leave. “You need anything?” He asks.

You do actually need more food, but you don’t want to rely on him, so you tell him no and he leaves. You would find some other way.

Another week passes of Joel dropping in every few nights. You managed to get some rations without telling anyone that your dad was gone, as you knew that made you more vulnerable. It seemed only Joel knew you were alone.

He hadn’t brought up the topic of your dad since last time, but he did tonight.

“He been gone two weeks now, sweetheart?” His tone is like a question but he obviously already knows the answer.

You don’t answer him.

“Aren’t ya’ gettin’ worried?” He presses.

“Obviously.” You murmur back.

“What was that?” He says, turning his head. You had noticed he had a good ear and a bad ear.

“I said, obviously.” You repeat with more attitude.

He laughs a little at your tone. You don’t like the way he acts towards you a lot of the time, talking down to you or chuckling away to himself like you were a child.

“Whose gonna keep you out of trouble then, huh?” He says, taking a sip of his drink. He is always drinking.

“No one else.” You say. “He’s going to come back soon.”

He pats at your thigh. You almost shiver at the feeling. He’s never touched you before.

“Yeah. I’m sure he will, sweetheart.” He says, with that wry smile again that makes you shift nervously in your seat.

He doesn’t remove his hand from where it rests on your thigh. You sit in silence until he leaves.

You dream of him that night. You dream of the feeling of his hand touching you like that, and in other places too. In your dream, you are crushed by his scent and his heat, all overpowering and overbearing.

You wake up a little ashamed and confused.

Nearly four weeks since your dad left, and Joel is round nearly every night. You have started to get used to his company. It’s at least a little bit of a distraction from the sadness that has enveloped you, the worry that consumes you each day for your father, the guilt and torment you experienced when you felt your hope resigning itself to grief.

Joel brings food and other small things for you, books, usually. You sit and read, and he drinks, usually in silence. It starts to become slightly comfortable. Or at least, it is no longer necessarily uncomfortable.

The next day, Joel arrives around noon with a solemn look on his face. He was supposed to be on shift burning bodies.

“I think you should sit down.” He says, guiding you by your lower back to the sofa.

You follow his instructions, crossing your legs, tucking them under you and looking at him, expectantly.

“It’s about your father, sweetheart. You know I was dealing with the bodies today. Well-“

“No.” You cry out.

He pats your head, an awkward rehearsed move that shows no compassion.

“I’m sorry.” He says, but he doesn’t sound very moved.

You wail and he sits down beside you. You feel weak as he pulls you closer to him until you’re almost on his lap. You appreciate the feeling of his arms around you, you think he really is trying to be sensitive, until you feel his erection pressing into you.

How can he possibly be having that reaction to you wailing in his arms? You try to push him away and crawl away from him but he locks his arms tighter around you, keeping you stuck there. You try to free yourself again but you hear him grunt slightly and realise that the feeling of you wriggling against him must be pleasurable.

Because of that, you resign yourself to sitting still in his lap and even let him stroke your hair and kiss your head gently. You eventually drift off to sleep, having exhausted yourself from crying.

After that day, Joel starts coming over straight after work, not bothering to wait until its dark before joining you in the late evening.

You struggle with your grief, barely eating or sleeping. Never reading. Most days you sit near the window and just look out. Joel drinks on the sofa. Some nights he offers you food, and most nights he leads you to bed. You stay where he puts you in your room, but usually you don’t sleep.

You’re not sure when, but he starts sleeping over. First on the couch and then more often, in your father’s room.

One day you ask him why.

“You should have someone here to watch you. Keep you safe.”

“I don’t need someone to watch me. I’m not a kid.” You protest.

He looks you up and down and smiles. “Of course you’re not.”

He comes towards you and kisses your head. You have gotten used to him doing this and while you don’t like it, you don’t bother trying to avoid it any more.

Slowly you begin to start keeping yourself busy. You start preparing food for him, just for something to do. He never thanks you verbally, but you assume that he is showing gratitude when he sits with a hand on your thigh.

One night after he eats, he offers you to drink with him. You have tasted beer before, but not whiskey. You don’t like the smell of it.

He encourages you and you eventually give in, taking a sip. It makes your throat burn and churns your stomach.

You shake your head when he offers you the glass again, but he puts it in your hand somewhat forcefully.

“Come on. It will make you feel good.” He urges.

You don’t know how that could be true but you don’t have the energy to argue so you do as he says anyway.

You continue to sip at it and force it down, pushing the glass back towards him when you are done. He fills it up.

“No.” You say, but he ignores you and slides you the now full glass again.

You haven’t been drunk before. Your dad was quite protective and would never have let you go to one of the illegal bars inside the QZ where people like him and Joel did business.

He offers you a book, and you take it. It’s a welcome distraction from the strange feeling coming over you, but you can’t really focus on the pages.

He must notice, asking you how you feel.

“Weird, I guess.” You admit.

He just nods.

“Take one of these.” He says, offering you a packet of pills from his pocket.

“No.” You say.

“It will make you focus again. It stops you from feeling weird.”

You aren’t sure how that might work but he obviously knows more about this than you and you don’t want to seem stupid so you choose to believe what he says and you take one.

He tells you to wash it down with the rest of your second glass of whisky.

After a few moments, your focus on the book is even worse. The words are blurred and you feel tired. You put it down.

“It didn’t work.” You say. Your voice sounds different, quieter.

He hums. “Strange.”

He lifts your legs and places them on his lap. Your body feels unusually pliant, like you don’t have much control over the way he moves you.

You wriggle and you feel him harden under you. You try to take your legs away but he holds an arm over them so you can’t.

His other hand moves up your leg. You are just in shorts so most of your leg is bare. His touches start gentle, drifting across your skin, almost tickling, but then he starts to grip you harder.

You can’t form words to ask him to stop, you feel like the connection between your brain and your body is broken.

He lets go of your legs and you try to move them but you don’t have any strength. His hand that is on your leg travels closer and closer to the hem of the shorts, eventually slipping under them and touching at your underwear.

You want to yell, to tell him to get off. No one has touched you like this before. But when you open your mouth only a feeble moan escapes you, and you realise you are unable to form words.

He presses at your underwear and you feel it start to dampen. It must be involuntary because you know you don’t want him touching you in this way.

You hear the sound of a buckle and look down to see that his free hand is taking off his belt and unzipping his jeans.

He takes out his cock, it is large and aggressive looking, with an angry red tip and prominent veins running down its length. It looks like a tool to cause pain, not pleasure.

He continues to touch you, only through your panties, and begins to touch himself simultaneously.

He rubs up and down the shaft of his cock roughly, and the pressure with which he is touching you becomes rougher too.

A different sensation runs through you and you look down to see that his hand has now slipped inside your underwear. You raise a hand to try and push his away, but you find your muscles are weak and you don’t succeed. Your hand falls back to your side.

He starts to grunt loudly and then something warm trickles onto your legs. It’s his cum, spurting and leaking from the tip of his cock all over you. He continues to play with your pussy for a few moments before taking his hand away.

He doesn’t bother to clean up your legs, he just supports your weight and takes you down the hall in the direction of your bedroom. He deposits you onto the bed, covers you with a blanket, and leaves.

You couldn’t really remember what had happened that night, you just remember what felt like falling asleep on the sofa.

Joel started to be more and more close to you afterwards though, all the time. Pressing into your ass when you stood in the kitchen. Guiding you onto his lap when you were on the sofa together. Sometimes, when he took you to bed, he stayed in your room. You just accepted this new way of him behaving, you knew that without your dad here, you were powerless to stop Joel.

He tries to encourage you to drink whisky with him more often, but you refuse with more conviction now after the unusual night you feel as though you had last time.

You are reading and your eyes and head start to hurt so you put your book down.

“What’s wrong?” He says.

“Headache.” You respond, closing your eyes.

You hear him rustling in his pocket and then he offers you a pill. You shake your head.

“It’s just pain medicine.” He says. “It will help your head.”

You say no again but he goes to get you water and then hands it to you along with the pill.

“It’s just pain medicine.” He says again.

He stares at you intensely and you agree to take it. He only looks away after he sees you have swallowed it.

To be honest, he was telling the truth about the fact that it took the pain away. But it replaced it with that uncomfortable fuzzy feeling you remember from before.

The next morning, you woke up in your room alone. But you were wearing different clothes from the ones you had on last night. You try to avoid him for the rest of the day.

One night, you have a nightmare. He storms into your room when you yell out in terror.

You find yourself apologising to him for disturbing him.

“Don’t apologise, sweetheart. I’ll stay, make sure you’re OK.”

“No, Joel, I’m fine.” You say, but he ignores you and climbs into your bed anyway.

You don’t know how long you have been sleeping when you are awoken again. He is sliding your shorts off of your legs.

“What are you doing?” You say.

“They’re uncomfortable.” He asserts.

“No, they’re not.” You respond, but he keeps going anyway, taking them all the way down your legs and then tossing them on the floor.

The length of his manhood presses into your asscheeks, now only covered in flimsy underwear. You try to ignore the feeling, especially when he locks his arm around you to try and keep you pressed closer to him and starts shifting his lower body, grinding against you.

He stops and eventually you fall asleep. Next time you wake up, it’s because he is touching you. His hand is stuffed inside your panties and he is rubbing you, sticking fingers inside you, touching you everywhere he can reach.

You say no and try to grab his wrist to take his hand away.

“Come on, baby.” He says. “I’ve got to look after you.”

You don’t know how that’s related to what he’s doing, and plus you never wanted him to ‘look after’ you anyway.

“I care for you. I go to work to bring you food. It’s only fair, come on.”

You struggle against him again but his grip is like a trap, the more you fight against it the tighter it becomes.

He starts to pinch and nip at your clit, rolling it between his thumb and finger. It’s such an intense feeling that a little cry escapes you.

He groans loudly in response to the sound you make and presses his erection harder into your ass. You feel grateful that at least he isn’t trying to put it inside you. You suppose you can put up with the touching as long as he doesn’t try that.

He takes his hand away from you and lets go of the tight grip around your middle. He takes your underwear off entirely. You try to protest but he just shushes you. He spreads your pussy and spits, a large amount of saliva landing on your folds and dripping down. It feels dirty and intimate. You didn’t want to do this with Joel, but you didn’t know how to get him to stop.

He uses his hands again, spreading the spit around as lubrication, and it made filthy sounds. He then put his fingers inside you, three long thick ones that stretched you out and hurt a little. He hammered them into you for a few moments, the force of his arm pushing you up the bed and making your shirt roll up. With his other hand, he grabbed the hem of your shirt and pushed it up roughly to expose your breasts. You weren’t wearing a bra and he stared at your nakedness, his mouth falling open and his eyes grew heavy and hooded as he looked at you. He was rubbing at his own cock through his boxers.

He started to play with one of your breasts, twisting and pinching at your nipple. It hurt a little and you squirmed, you don’t know if he saw that as a sign of pleasure or pain, but he kept doing it anyway.

With his other hand he started applying pressure to your clit, rubbing in circles. Then he let go of your breast and took his cock out from his boxers, you looked away. He grabbed your chin and forced your gaze back in his direction.

He fisted himself and continued to rub at your clit and finger you. It didn’t feel good but your body was having it’s own reaction, a knot of tension building inside of you that you had felt yourself a few times but never with someone else.

You couldn’t help but start to pant and whine a little as the feeling started to overwhelm you. This emboldened him and he paid more attention to the hand that was on you, rubbing your clit vigorously, making you clench and shake under him.

You wished you could stop it from feeling good, you wished you could inhibit your body’s natural reactions as you knew if he got any sign that you enjoyed this that he would start to do it more frequently.

But you couldn’t stop that tension building low in your stomach, your legs seizing up and then it snapped with a cry and you felt your orgasm coming over you.

You clenched around the fingers he had inside you, gripping them tightly. He grunted and spilled his load of cum all over your stomach and cunt.

He plays with it a little, spreading it all over you. You find it disgusting and a little animalistic. You try to get up to leave and clean yourself off but he grips you tightly and doesn’t let you get out of bed.

Joel does this with you twice more before trying anything else. You had grown numb to it and let him do as he pleased without protest. You started to believe him when he said he deserved to get to do this because he earns you your rations and brings you things he trades especially for you. His gifts become more valuable, rarer items like scented soaps, even a perfume.

You know he is trying to earn your favour, that there is no real kindness in his actions, but you do start to appreciate them for some reason.

He has taken to sleeping with you every night now. On the nights when he doesn’t touch you, he usually holds onto you and jerks off, sometimes when you are awake and other times when you are sleeping and you only notice in the morning.

He tells you off for wasting water when you try and wash the sheets every day.

You are both still a little damp from showering, his curls slicked back with water and your wet hair splayed out on the pillow beneath you. You lie there as he kisses and licks at your neck, chest and stomach. He starts to go lower, putting his hands to your underwear. You reach out to push him away but he lets out a disgruntled sound, practically a growl, so you stay still again.

He takes off your underwear and then his own, and situates himself between your legs. You try not to look at him as he ducks his head down between your legs, his stubble burning your legs as he inhales your scent deeply and licks at your inner thighs. He has never used his mouth on you before and you try to squeeze your legs together to stop him, but his hands reach up to pin your legs down and keep them spread.

He kisses and licks at your cunt hungrily. When you reach out to push his head away, he gives a harsh slap to your clit and you cry out, so you stay still and let him continue his actions.

After a while, he uses his fingers. It hurts less than usual, but you still don’t like it. Then, impatiently, he stops and moves up, positioning his cock between your legs.

He starts to grind it against your cunt, gathering up all the wetness and then rubbing it down his shaft. He nudges it at your entrance and your hands fly out to his chest to try and push him away.

“No, I’ve never- I don’t-“ You begin to protest, but he interrupts you.

“That’s a good thing, sweetheart. You’ve saved yourself for someone who cares about you.” He says.

You think the opposite, but he pins your hands above your head and continues to massage your folds with the head of his cock. You are worried that if he does this, it will somehow connect you to him forever.

When he breaches your entrance, it hurts. The stretch is unlike anything you have ever felt and you don’t like it. You feel tears forming in your eyes as he continues to push in, forcing you open.

As one rolls down your cheek, he leans down and licks it. He is grinning. He likes that he has made you cry.

You focus hard on not crying so he can’t enjoy it, holding your breath and trying to withhold your tears. But this makes you wrack with a sob, his pace increasing furiously.

He watches in delight as you cry and sniffle. Everything about this is wrong. It hurts as his stubble scratches at you when he leans in close, the force of his cock driving into you is too harsh, the grip of his hands on you is too rough.

He indulges selfishly in his own pleasure and it hurts. You assume he likes the sounds you make so you try to be as quiet as you can. The only sounds are his grunts and the wet skin slapping together.

You expect him to pull out eventually and jerk off onto you like usual, but it goes on and on and he doesn’t stop. He becomes particularly forceful and then stops suddenly with a loud groan and you feel his warm hot cum releasing inside of you.

You cry, understanding what he has done.

He rolls off of you and you lie in silence for a while.

“Can I ask you something, Joel?”

“What is it?” He says, uninterested.

“If my dad died out on the supply run, how’d they have his body here. Don’t they only have people who die inside the QZ.”

He flashes that wry expression. That deceiving smile that doesn’t reach his eyes. That unnerving, cold look that still makes your skin crawl.

“I don’t know, sweetheart. I don’t have all the answers.”

Something in your gut tells you not to believe him. You start to wonder if your dad had made it back, after all, and met his fate inside the walls of the QZ.

There would be no way for you to find out.

A/N: Thanks for reading!

[ivanttakethis]

Tov’s OC Intimacy Levels

Based on the character intimacy percentages from the art book.

This covers Tov’s intimacy levels with other characters she has notable relationships with or is connected to in some way.

Inspired by @lookatmysillies’s Character Intimacy Levels posts: Part 1 and Part 2.

Himei (100%) - If soulmates exist, I believe we are a pair. There is no me without you. I would give anything to change your fate.

Tallis (100%) - You see me in a way no one else does. I cannot hide from you, but I find that I don’t want to. It’s okay if it’s you.

Nyx (90%) - My bothersome little brother. You’re stubborn in your belief that you are not worthy of love, but I’m more stubborn in proving you wrong.

Dian (80%) - Although you can be a persistent thorn in my side, you’re one of my closest friends. You keep me in check and I return the favor. I know you have my best interest at heart.

Moran (75%) - I miss our talks and the time we spent together and your views on the world. You were so much more than a puppet waiting to play their part. We are tied together in the stars.

Flor (60%) - Your heart was far too kind for a cruel world like ours. I try to view your death as a mercy. I don’t know if it’s working. I miss you.

Solei (59%) - Thank you for allowing me to be your shadow. I will always keep your secrets. Hopefully we can meet again one day.

Aurien (57%) - I know you were the one who made our class’s star charts. I appreciate you sharing them with me. Please stay safe, fellow stargazer.

Wren (50%) - There’s something odd about you. I suspect you know more than you let on. Despite that, you were there for me at my lowest, and I’m grateful.

Lang (40%) - Tallis and Nyx loved you so much. Over time, I came to care for you too. I wish things could’ve been different.

Stasya (39%) - More than an acquaintance. A friend perhaps? You didn’t deserve what happened to you. I hope you’re drifting in a nice river somewhere.

Azure (30%) - It is not lost on me that this odd fondness I feel for you only runs one way. Even still, I do not regret mourning you. Your life and death were never a waste of time.

Akane (20%) - I’ve always respected you as my senior. Maybe we could’ve been friends. I see you every night in the moon.

Castor (18%) - I often found you to be annoying and unserious. But you were very important to Nyx, so I tolerated you. I hate how badly you hurt him, but we both know there was no other way.

Elias and Prem (17%) - I still don’t understand why you’re risking so much to help me. Is my benefactor really that important to you? I guess I’ll find out soon enough.

Lark (15%) - Even though I know there was nothing I could do, I still feel like I failed you in some way. Did you know I was there when you were dying? I held your hand the whole time.

Minori (10%) - I’m sorry. I should’ve looked. I should’ve dignified you in your last moments and I didn’t. It is one of my biggest regrets.

Daiki (8%) - I’ll never forgive you for how you spoke about Tallis. But I understand wanting to live for someone you love.

Noora (6%) - You were always such a sweet girl. I don’t know if I’ll ever understand what made you snap. I’m sorry about Lark. Are you together now?

Min (5%) - You saved Himei’s life. For that alone, I am in your debt.

Cirrus (5%) - We have very similar backgrounds. If we spoke, I think we’d find that we have a lot in common. Part of me knew it would end this way.

Tagging: @lookatmysillies (Himei, Tallis, Castor), @rockwgooglyeyes (Nyx, Dian), @geospiral (Moran), @sotogalmo (Flor), @solei-eclipse (Solei), @aurienneirua (Aurien), @its-langgg (Lang), @billwasnot (Stasya), @azureitri (Azure), @aakaneeee (Akane), @kamersona (Lark, Noora), @minori-dash (Minori), @daiki1k (Daiki), @starry-skiez (Min), and @yunoftheclouds (Cirrus).

[darling-phoebe]

rich bitch ! vienna carlisle-washington ❥ headcanons / intro post

do i like billionaires irl? no, eat the rich. do i like billionaire oc's in a yandere context? absolutely. anyway, hope you enjoy!! gn reader, no use of pronouns or y/n. warning for brief but graphic mention of torture, and typical yandere themes

─ [ . : ｡✿ ]

to put it simply, vienna wants to spoil you fucking rotten

she'd been living off of daddy's money up til she was 20, when she started her own makeup empire, velvet luxury cosmetics. now she was a billionaire in her own right, and fully intended on spending every cent on you.

the idea that a billion dollars is more than a person could possibly spend in a lifetime? well she's gonna test that theory by buying you the world and everything in it.

definitely the provider-protector type of yandere. to her, you're an angel. her god-given solace in a world full of insufferable morons. and when she's richer than god himself, why not treat her angel to all the luxury and wealth you deserve? she wants to make you dizzy with all the lavish gifts. she wants to prove she can provide anything you could ever want or need. and she needs you to know that no one could possibly take better care of you, darling.

you mention your car needs an oil change? suddenly it's nowhere to be found, replaced by a much more expensive model sitting in your parking spot. you have a slight cough? you're being examined by a team of the world's best doctors like you're a fascinating medical mystery. you just have a cold. you want that necklace? consider it yours. like a certain style of sweater? you'll have a few in each color in your closet tomorrow. and of course if your job is stressing you out, or your landlord's being an asshole, then she's all-too-eager to move you into her place and provide everything for you.

but of course, she intends to care for you in less materialistic ways too. to the rest of the world, she's cold, bitchy, and arrogant, but to you? she's sweet as could be, supporting you wholeheartedly in anything you want to do and singing your praises non-stop.

speaking of, she definitely has a thing for praising you in bed.

she isn't typically the type to get her own hands dirty for you. she has people she can pay to do that sort of thing, and trust me, she will.

once, one of your so-called calls you a gold digger behind your back, criticizing the way you let vienna spoil you so. she was found dead next morning. what if she had continued saying such ridiculous words, and it got back to you somehow? she couldn't let some stupid wretch so much as dampen your day. she had a few of her men literally rip her limb from limb. she still watches the tape sometimes, gives her goosebumps in the most delicious way. vienna can't get enough of those agonized screams.

"serves her right, saying such nasty things about my angel."

but if someone actually manages to hurt you, whether it be physically or emotionally, then she'll have a more... hands on approach. she'll still let her men get the pest all tied up and prepped with a few nasty wounds first, but she has to be the one to end their miserable, insignificant life. she won't be able to sleep until she does.

of course, she'd never let you see this side of her. sweet thing like you wouldn't be able to stomach it, now would you? no, she'll just keep talking sweet to you and catering to your every desire, never letting you see just how dangerous she really is.

─ [ . : ｡✿ ]

❛ when will you realize? vienna waits for you ❜

[sneakyboymerlin]

I have said it before, but Kilgharrah has a parallel-opposite arc to Morgana. His character is redeemed in the same streak of episodes where Morgana goes from an ally to a major villain. While Kilgharrah was often self-serving and manipulative in the first 2 seasons, this changes by the end of season 2 because Merlin chooses to show him mercy after incapacitating him. It’s the first real kindness that Kilgharrah has experienced in well over 20 years. Whereas, when Merlin shows Morgana mercy by making the deal with Morgause to save her after she’s been incapacitated, Morgana returns more vengeful than ever. Back to Kilgharrah, though…

Not only does he indebt himself to Merlin, he comes to see Merlin in an entirely new way. Before, when he would call Merlin kin, it was in the most literal sense—both are creatures of magic, cut from the same cloth, and should be allies. But now, they’ve formed a bond from that kinship (and in a literal soul connection sense, too, no less). Kilgharrah’s plea strikes Merlin with so much force because they’re both now the last of their kind, and Merlin cannot help but consider and understand what Kilgharrah has been through, despite the destruction he’s caused, because it’s happened to Merlin, too. When they see each other next, this is what they have to say:

Merlin: I didn't think you'd answer my call.

Kilgharrah: Merlin, I could not resist a dragonlord, even if I wanted to.

Merlin: I’m grateful, thank you.

Let’s focus on that: “…even if I wanted to.” Kilgharrah did not want to resist Merlin’s call for help because he’s come to care about Merlin in his own way. This development is easily traced back to Merlin’s show of mercy. It cannot be stressed enough: this was the first kindness Kilgharrah had been shown in over 20 years, after rotting away in a dungeon when he was betrayed in every way possible, suffering from the grief of his entire species going extinct on Uther’s orders. And with this one show of mercy, Merlin changed the heart of a creature that everyone had already dismissed as a monster (the same way Merlin sees himself), one who sought his revenge by razing an entire city to the ground. From the start, Merlin treats him as a person: “Why are you doing this? You’re killing innocent people!” No one who saw him as a mere beast acting on its true nature would ask a moral quandary of him. And in the end, this path leads to Kilgharrah being spared, and Camelot repeatedly being saved as a result.

Kilgharrah’s sincerity in his care for Merlin is consistent in later seasons, and is seen in more than just his rescues. In 4x02, he plainly urges Merlin not to sacrifice himself, despite the fact that Arthur’s life (and thus, Kilgharrah’s ultimate freedom) hangs in the balance.

Merlin: Arthur intends to sacrifice himself to heal the Veil. It is my destiny to protect him; you taught me that.

Kilgharrah: Merlin, you must not do this.

He shortly follows this with something we’ve known since Merlin mended the rift between them in 2x13:

Kilgharrah: From the moment I met you, I saw something that was invisible. Now, it is there for all to see […] It will be an empty world without you, young warlock.

Having failed to convince Merlin to let someone else be the sacrifice, Kilgharrah commends him. Not only that, Kilgharrah mourns him.

This is all to say that Kilgharrah’s actions in seasons 1 & 2 should not be the sole focal point for our judgment of him, when he undergoes such an extreme change of character. Furthermore, there is no reason to believe that Kilgharrah’s faith in the prophecies is anything but genuine. Alongside his newfound care for Merlin, his ultimate goal is his own freedom, and he believes that Arthur is the key to that.

Kilgharrah: We need Arthur to live […] Your destiny is to protect the young Pendragon until he claims his crown, and when he does, magic can be returned to the realm. Only then will I be free.

This logic is in line with what occurred in 5x13. Kilgharrah wouldn’t have said or done any of what he does in 1x13 if he did not believe that Arthur’s ascension to king would lead to his own freedom (even if it didn’t take immediate effect). Arthur’s place on the throne made room for an end to the wars, namely the one on magic. Kilgharrah did not make these prophecies up, nor is he the only one to believe in them. Alator and Finna possessed knowledge of the same prophecies, and both believed in Emrys’ vision/mission.

Kilgharrah had great knowledge himself, and tried to share that with Merlin to pave the best path, but he was not all-knowing, and he tells Merlin as much himself. Kilgharrah is merely a messenger, believer, and interpreter. So, he still believes the prophecy has come to pass, even if Arthur did end up dying anyways. The five kingdoms could now be united and magic restored to the land once the war was ended upon Morgana’s death. The prophecy was fulfilled within Arthur’s lifetime, despite the success of Arthur’s Bane. It did not go as Merlin expected, nor how Kilgharrah expected, but it still… went. This is what he means when he says, “No young man, no matter how great, can know his destiny.”

The idea that Kilgharrah simply played Merlin, when he was depending on Arthur as much as any creature of magic, and when he genuinely cared for Merlin as kin, is bad faith conjecture. How they got to the end point still mattered to him (i.e. Merlin must protect Arthur so that he has a chance to fulfill the prophecy), because that potential only existed through Arthur, and they all continued to suffer until that time came. Regardless of the age at which Arthur died, though, he was destined to fulfill these prophecies and return at Albion’s time of need. This, Kilgharrah knew. So is it any wonder that he maintained faith in it even after Arthur died? Especially after Arthur died, proving the prophecies true once again?

Kilgharrah: Merlin. There is nothing you can do.

Merlin: I've failed?

Kilgharrah: No, young warlock, for all that you have dreamt of building, has come to pass.

Merlin: I can't lose him! He's my friend!

Kilgharrah: Though no man, no matter how great, can know his destiny, some lives have been foretold. Merlin... Arthur is not just a King— he is the Once and Future King. Take heart, for when Albion's need is greatest, Arthur will rise again.

No, Kilgharrah did not predict the exact ending, but he did his best to help Merlin bring about the best possible outcome, and he said what he could to comfort Merlin when he was grieving Arthur. Kilgharrah was genuine, and his motives were in alignment with Merlin’s by the start of season 3.

[gffa]

As I continue my rewatch my frustration with the timeline of The Mandalorian is not eased by having two seasons under our belts or more information on the Children of the Watch because there’s a very central question that haunts me:  Why does everyone act like Mandalorians not removing their helmets is the default and never mention any other way? To establish a timeline, centering the first season of The Mandalorian as year zero: - 28-31 years ago, the Clone Wars take place, which is likely when Din’s parents were killed and he was adopted by Death Watch - 11 years ago, the events Rebels takes place, in which Sabine gives the dark saber to Bo-Katan, who unites the Houses to rebel against the Empire - 9 years ago, the events of A New Hope take place - ?? years ago the Great Purge, the Night of a Thousand Tears happens, where the Empire wipes out the Mandalorians (this is likely somewhere around 10 years ago, but could be anywhere in this timeline) - 5 years ago, the Empire fell in the events of Return of the Jedi In the first episode, Mythrol asks if it’s true you guys never take off your helmets.   In episode 2, Kuill says he’s never met a Mandalorian, he’s only heard stories about them (and their battle skill is implied).  In episode 3, Paz Vizsla says that the beskar was from the Great Purge, the reason they live like sand rats now.  In episode 4, Cara asks what happens if Din takes off his helmet, despite that he never told her that about himself, but she has no mention of any other type of Mandalorian. The thing is:  The Mandalorians we know from The Clone Wars and Rebels were running around the galaxy eleven ago at minimum (likely less even!).  And the Empire has been gone for five of those years.  Which means, even if the Empire would have suppressed knowledge of the Mandalorians (and there’s no suggestion that they did, nor an obvious reason to), it wasn’t just within living memory, it was only a five or six year period where they would have had time to do so. So, within those eleven years, did the galaxy forget that any other kind of Mandalorian exists?  The Children of the Watch were wiped out in the same Great Purge, so it’s not like they sprung up in place of other types of Mandalorians, and they’ve lived in hiding ever since.  But are apparently common enough that people know they don’t take their helmets off, ever? I can believe that, despite that Din is fairly aware of the state of the galaxy (he knows the New Republic is a joke when Greef suggests reporting the Imperial remnants to them), he’s extremely unaware in other ways.  I can believe that even when the Mandalorians were running around the galaxy eleven years ago and he would have been in his 20s at earliest, more likely in his 30s, that the Watch was all he knew, he’s not a chatty guy, and somehow he avoided running into any other Mandalorians during the years of the Empire before Bo-Katan united the Houses. What I’m forever ??? about is how do people around Din seem to accept his religious rules as the default on Mandalorians?  Are we just supposed to think that everyone else knows most Mandalorians weren’t like that but don’t say anything because they know Din does follow those rules?  Are we supposed to think that they were killed off and eleven years is long enough that nobody remembers anything but the Children of the Watch version of Mandalorians, despite that all of them would have been plenty old enough to remember? My frustration is that people seem extremely aware that Mandalorians exist and understand that they don’t take their helmets off, they’ve “heard the stories” or they know tidbits about them.  I get that the Empire suppressed and changed knowledge of the Jedi, they had ~20 years of propaganda and Palpatine made a hardcore point of it because he didn’t want anyone else to have access to the Force.  And if all knowledge about Mandalorians had been wiped, okay, sure, maybe there was a reason. But people are aware Mandalorians exist!  They’ve heard the stories!  They know details about Din’s version of Mandalorians!  How do they know that, but nobody seems to be aware that Din’s not the default?  Or are they just extremely aware of the difference between the Houses of Mandalore and the Children of the Watch and so they know Din’s different, but they’re not interested in asking about other Mandalorians, only Children of the Watch? I just don’t really see how the galaxy goes from what we knew during the Clone Wars and Rebels to the state of the galaxy re: Mandalorians in The Mandalorian.  If nobody mentioned it and Din was unaware, sure, but multiple people around him seem like Din’s version is default and, like, JON, DAVE, I WATCHED REBELS, I KNOW THE STATE OF THE GALAXY, COME ON.

[yuseirra]

Analysis- Kamiki's wish & Tsukuyomi's idea on "Fate"

I'm going to freaking kick kamiki's butt but let's note that there were a lot of things that he's done(within that brief moments of screentime that he's been getting) that are worth discussing about. I can say a lot about him while being unable to form a full conclusion about him, he is THE mystery element in this series for me, it's getting ridiculous, I just want solid answers and get it over with(but nope! I also don't want the conclusion that AI shouldn't have loved this guy because that's not just about this guy being insane, it totally undermines the point of the story)

this guy talked a whole lot about wishes when he came to meet the twins, and asked them what they wanted. I feel like "WISH" could be of the keys of understanding of this character's core elements, I think.. he has a wish he wants to fulfill and THAT HAS TO BE REGARDING AI. The song Mephisto was all about wanting for wishes to come true, and that wish was first bringing back their dead loved one back with their life -> warped into "becoming that person". I feel like that's EXACTLY the mindset of what this character went through with this, whole "feeling Ai" "wishing her presence" "carrying the weight of life" "sin" deal going about him. He even congratulated Aqua's wishes on coming true in 153!!! I feel he had himself a wish that he WANTS to fulfill, so that's how he's so keen about one.

Those black-crow looking clothes he wore when he made his appearance in the mountains when Yura dies (it's gonna happen in the anime huh? Yeah best way to leave the season on a cliffhanger btw, YOU KNOW, THE ONE REASON I THINK WHY THE MANGA IS SO CONFUSING RIGHT NOW THAT THEY DON'T WAN'T US TO KNOW WHAT HE'S EXACTLY BEEN DOING BEFORE THIS SHOWS UP THERE. It'd burst all the bubbles if we already know what he's up to, but we STILL don't know anything about him. We don't even know if he's the one who's pushed Yura and we still ACTUALLY don't know what happened on the day Ai was killed in a clear way!!!!) that resembles Tsukuyomis. I was pointed this a while ago from @aihoshiino.. I wonder if that means something, personally, I think this can be related to some things he's said about gods in 147,

if Ai's fate was dying there by a crazy fan in the young age on 20, I'm sure Kamiki would want to change it. What I'm thinking is that he cares about her life more than his own and I believe this could be backed up by what he thinks of Ai in 162 despite the mess of that chapter is, he only felt alive when he had Ai with him. So after her death, it was practically like he had no life at all. That's why he's so eager to give up everything for her. Tsukuyomi is the god that deals with fate and souls. She doesn't seem to look at Kamiki that fondly, so I think what he's getting at here by "god doesn't give us answers(...)if you come up with an answer after worrying about it so much, then you have to accept it, everyone does" is that,

He wants to change Ai's fate of death and even Tsukuyomi would have to accept it, even if she's THE god that deals with it. If there's something that could have warped this originally soft and timid person into the insanity that he is now, I believe it'd be this.

it also explains why he keeps going he's okay with dying and it's not bad several times (he DOESN'T have the will to live in the first place after he's lost Ai) but also goes Not yet/he has something to do BEFORE that happens.

If what he is going about is about "amplifying" Ai's presence, I feel like if it's sufficiently fulfilled, she could have actually been brought back in a sense. In that case, he HAS been doing something for Ai in a pretty.. practical manner despite it's what Ai wouldn't have wanted. This presence thing is basically actually him saying he wants her back alive and living. He wanted her to go on living. It's just phrased in a really confusing way so that we don't get to sympathize with this guy and misdirect our ways of thinking that he's totally insane(HE IS for sure, but at the same time, what he wants is what every person who's lost a love may wish for-not the method, but the way of thinking-the author doesn't want us to figure this out yet for some reason because they're hiding something about him continuously, I feel like there's going to be some sort of impactful blow that'd be coming related to this aspect)

I don't think Tsukuyomi supports this idea nor is too fond of him, I think she wanted Aqua to take him down because Kamiki would meddle with her ways, thus was keen about the "revenge" aspects of his mission. But Aqua later derives himself to a conclusion that his life wasn't about revenge the way Tsukuyomi wanted it to be, he came up with his own reasoning for doing what he's done. Keeping Ruby safe.

She had her eyes on Kamiki and watches his demise(I hope this isn't his end though because it's not a direction I'd be so fond with), maybe feeling a bit melanchoilc and a feeling of half-satisfaction that she got what she's wanted, although it wouldn't have been so happy for her either seeing a soul break that bad

BUT WHAT MADE HIM BREAK THIS BAD? Was this always in him in the first place? Is he a guy that could have always killed people? So did Ai choose the wrong man who'd become a serial killer for "her sake" out of desperation when it'd be nothing what she truly wants? Kamiki's feelings towards Ai is strong. It was always strong from their younger years and it's been the core of his character, no matter what I make of this guy, that would not change.

The important part for me now is just what pushed him to have this sort of belief and pushed him, shattering his personality even, (HE WENT THROUGH WITH THIS FOR AT LEAST 15 YEARS. If he was tended to and "saved" earlier, there is no way he would have broke this bad;;;) if there is one. THE SONGS IMPLY THERE IS SOMETHING. and he says these weird stuff about making offerings in 147(it's not in the English translations but I swear I see it in the versions I see, it happens when he talks with nino after having met akane) so there could be some other god that's convinced him that if he does what he asks of him, Ai could be brought back. That probably destroyed his soul, and seeing him like that, Tsukuyomi didn't want the same thing happening to Aqua so she told Aqua in advance that AI CANNOT be reincarnated back to life.(118)

What Tsukuyomi says in 118 is the COMPLETE OPPOSITE OF WHAT KAMIKI DESIRED. He wanted to believe Ai could still exist and feel her presence. I feel like what Kamiki wanted, and thought in that case, was :

"Ai is still somewhere." "I may be able to find her if I try hard enough." "She can be born again and she may be able to live happily somewhere." "Her story didn't end." "Death isn't death. There's still a chance." "Ai can still think, she can think about me and everything else."

"Ai can smile again."

Just flip everything Tsukuyomi says in 118 and I feel that's what Kamiki would have wanted to believe in and felt about Ai. That's what he intended to fulfill and could never give up on, that's why he couldn't die yet. He wanted to save her the way she did for him, he wanted her life back to her. It just didn't work. He thought about doing that till the very end (could have been twisted into him being able to feel her in the middle though)

why do I feel like Tsukuyomi either told Kamiki the same thing or she couldn't but wanted to, but he was already way past the line?

If there is something that's used him, and this sort of desperation he has, it led him to take these extreme measures he's been taking and it reaped him of his nobility.

That's extremely tragic and in that case, I can see how this character, out of all, is getting two songs with one being him becoming gradually warped into what he is now(Mephisto) and his current state of insanity(Fatal)

and why Ai wants to save him. He's terribly broken. I guess that whole part of Ruby just shows us how far he's gone, but like I say over and over, I don't think he would have been this person!!! He could have been a tender father who smiled and raised Ai and his children together, so I want to know WHAT HAPPENED.

[lil13]

pov: you and calum have been best friends for nearly 20 years, feelings for each other arrived about a year ago. so, after not seeing your best friends for over a year, you plan a visit to surprise them.

warnings: some language (that’s literally it, it is all fluff)

•

“Are you sure it’s okay?” You spoke into your phone as you walked down the streets of Sydney.

It was late-afternoon and you’d finished a day of school a couple hours prior, you taught a music class for the older kids at the school you’d once attended. You’d just finished a term for school and about to have an over two week break.

“Of course it is!” Crystal’s perky voice flooded the speaker, “I wouldn’t have planned this with you for the past month or so if it wasn’t, Y/N.”

She was right, there’s no way the plan would’ve gotten this far if it wasn’t plausible for you to join the boys for the last couple stops of tour. You’d grown up with the boys of 5 seconds of summer, attending school with them when you all were young. While they’d gone off to become a world-famous band, you finished your schooling and then went off to America for university.

Luckily for you, you’d chosen a university in Los Angeles, keeping you around the boys when they lived in the city between tours and while they wrote albums. But then, after graduation, you returned to Sydney, knowing that being a music teacher at your school was what you’d always wanted to do. There was no amount of protests from the boys that would stop you, you’d made your mind up.

You were always very sure of every decision you made and once you’d made your mind up there was no changing it. And they knew that.

“The boys are coming off stage at any minute now so we need to make this quick, but when does your flight get in?” Crystal had successfully confused you, then it clicked, you’d forgotten about time zones. It was late-afternoon in Sydney, but nearly midnight the night before in Los Angeles.

You let out a breathy laugh, “11:00 on the 23rd.” Which was tomorrow for you, but two days from now for them.

“Perfect! Love you, thank you.”

And the call was over.

You couldn’t believe it, you were essentially only a plane ride away from seeing your boys.

•

“They’re going to lose their shit.” Crystal laughed as she drove down the interstate.

You were nearly at the venue where the boys were rehearsing for their show that night and couldn’t stop shaking. It had been well over a year since you’d seen any of them in person. Your communication had never lacked though, especially with Calum.

Calum Hood was your best friend in the entire world. It didn’t matter how close you got to any of your friends, Calum would always rank higher. The two of you would do anything for each other.

And maybe that’s why neither of you could keep relationships.

If you called Calum, he’d drop everything to answer? and vice versa.

The two of you had became friends the first day of year 1 when Calum asked for part of your snack and the rest was history. You two had been attached at the hip ever since.

Eventually, you arrived at the arena, Crystal urged you to keep your luggage in her vehicle and you’d think about it later. She was probably more excited about this surprise than anyone. She’d mentioned that Luke’s wife, Sierra, had wanted to come to the airport too, but the boys would’ve gotten too suspicious.

Crystal gripped your hand tightly, “Go wait in the green room and i’ll tell them I brought them a surprise.” She urged and shoved you toward the room.

The next 5 minutes were brutal, dragging on.

But then they entered the room and it was like everything was right in the world again.

“YOU’RE FUCKING KIDDING!” Michael exclaimed, being the first one in the room.

The other three were confused because Michael’s rather large frame had blocked you from their sights. He ran to you, enveloping you in the biggest hug possible.

A sigh of relief, you were so happy to be back in their presence.

“Holy shit, that’s Y/N!” Luke yelled, turning to look at Sierra and Crystal, “Were you two in on this?”

They both smiled and nodded.

Luke was the next to you, his hug lifted you off the ground. Aside from Calum, you were closest to Luke, knowing him longer than you did the other two.

Ashton gave you one of his famous hugs, kissing the top of your head, before moving out of the way. Everyone knew what for.

Calum stood dumbfounded in the doorway.

He was shocked. There was no part of him that could believe that Y/N Y/L/N was standing in front of him and wasn’t an ocean away. He’d clearly forgotten Australia’s school calendar because he forgot you were on break now. It didn’t matter that you had reminded him of your upcoming break on your weekly facetime with him the week before, he couldn’t really remember anything right now.

“Am I gonna get a Calum hug?” you teased, trying to mask how nervous you were to be in the same room as him.

You two were always close, but you hadn’t realized you developed feelings for him until the last time you’d seen him in person, realizing after he got in the uber to the airport that you wished you could’ve kissed him goodbye. And now, you’ve been harboring feelings for over a year.

Your eyes crinkled when you saw the tears welling in his. He finally moved, crossing the last few feet between you. Calum squatted down just barely, enough to wrap his arms around your waist so he could pick you up in your hug.

His presence was overwhelming.

Your arms hooked around his neck, one hand holding the back of his head to keep him near. You even tucked your head in close.

“Holy shit, Y/N/N, I needed this bad.” you wanted to cry at his whispered admission.

Because it was true, you needed this as much as he needed it.

Without you realizing at first, until the door clicked shut, Crystal and Sierra had ushered the other 3 boys out of the room. Everyone knew that this moment deserved to be private.

Everyone knew the feelings the two of you felt for each other, except for the two of you. Neither knew that their feelings were reciprocated.

Calum had come to terms with his feelings for you around the same time you had and he hated that he felt the need to hide this from you. You two never hid anything from each other.

His hands sliding from your waist to your thighs, urging you to wrap your legs around his torso, brought your attention back. You stayed tucked into him while he blindly walked over to where he knew a couch was, sitting down with you on his lap.

Your heartrate skyrocketed when you sat up, allowing yourself to look into his beautiful brown eyes.

“Hi.” you whispered, not trusting your voice to go any louder.

The cutest smile stretched across his face, one he only showed when he was genuinely happy. You knew the difference between all of his smiles.

His hands sat on your hips, thumbs caressing the bare skin of your torso that had only been exposed during your hug. “How long has this been a plan?”

“A couple weeks.” you responded, your normal voice holding strong.

Calum’s eyes never left yours. “Did you somehow telepathically figure out that I really needed my Best Girl here with me?” Your stomach always went wild when he called you that.

Best Girl.

“I’m just that good, Cal.” you faked your confidence because you truly felt like a little girl with the biggest crush on the inside.

He stared at you instead of continuing to speak. Your eyes, your clothes, your lips.

Your stomach continued to run wild.

When you noticed him starting to lean in, you panicked, quickly sliding your hands from around his neck to holding his shoulders tight. His gaze switched to the utmost concern, “What’s wrong, Y/N/N?”

The self-doubt was running wild in your head, feeding you such false information of Calum’s opinion of you. “If you’re not 100% sure of what your intention is in the follow up after what you’re thinking about doing, please… don’t do it.” You’re not sure why you were essentially telling him not to kiss you.

But it kind of made sense. You’d had intense feelings for him for over a year and you didn’t want one kiss to leave you pining for someone who will never give you what you want.

A slight chuckle fell from his lips, the boy smiling as he shook his head. It had just clicked for him that you felt the same.

“I’ve never been so sure of something in my life.”

And then he connected his lips with yours.

Fireworks exploded in your stomach as your eyes fluttered shut. Your hands now sliding back to their original position, pulling him as close to you as possible.

This was not only the best kiss of your life, but the happiest moment of your life thus far.

[octuscle]

Lord, all I want is to turn my roommate into a hot biker my age, around 18/20 years old…. My current roommate is just a nerd, showers everyday, and is too clean. I want a goofy, dumb biker boy roommate please!

Your roommate really is a pain in the ass. He's constantly lecturing you about some astronomy shit that you're really not interested in. He plays video chess with some friends who live in the middle of nowhere and talks to them in Klingon. Everything about him annoys you. The noises he makes when he breathes. The way he brushes his teeth. His quirk of always wearing funny colored socks. Yes, he's probably a genius. He's only 16, has no hair on his sack yet, but is already a sophomore in college. But that doesn't change anything. He's unbearable!

The first thing you notice is his language… His nasal British English becomes harsher, his language simpler and simpler. And you could swear there's an accent mixed in… Something funny. Russian? He's probably learning a new language in his spare time now. You could puke!

"Sup, comrade?" he greets you as he arrives home very late by his standards. You look at him questioningly. "Hey man, I come driving school. You always say that you're half man without driver's license." You never said that. You didn't even know he didn't have a driver's license. You smile painfully. And go back to your Playstation. Your flatmate lies on the bed with his shoes on and reads a car magazine that he has obviously picked up at driving school. Boy, he's really off the wall today.

You are woken up the next morning by your flatmate. He comes in the door in a sweat. "That was good training. You have come with me tomorrow" he grunts. Damn, the Slavic accent seems natural and not at all fake. Maybe it's always been his language and the British accent was artificial… Your flatmate sprays a little Axe under his arms, gets dressed and disappears. "Driving school" he mumbles on the way out. What he does, he does consistently. But it's never happened that he leaves without making his bed and tidying his gym clothes. Okay, he's never been to the gym before.

When he comes home in the evening, he's talking loudly on the phone. I have no idea what language that is… Russian? Could also be Bulgarian, Serbian or something else. In any case, his squeaky voice has given way to a pretty impressive barition. Without greeting you, he throws his heavy leather jacket and helmet on the bed and goes into the bathroom, continuing to talk on the phone. His baritone gives way to a groan, followed by a loud "Fuuuuuuuuuck". He comes out of the bathroom grinning, stows his cock away and asks if you've cum today. Otherwise he would suck you off. You decline with thanks. And regret it just a few minutes later.

It's 06:00 when your roommate's alarm clock rings. Has he been sleeping naked? In any case, he goes to the bathroom naked. A few minutes later you hear him wanking again. You don't hear him showering. But when you see him coming out of the bathroom, still naked, you see his semi-hard cock. And it's impressive. Maybe you should ask him today if you can suck him off. You ask why he's up so early. He answers. "I got new job. And I want pump first. Will come with me?" "Maybe tomorrow," you reply and close your eyes again. Half asleep, you notice your flatmate putting on a boiler suit and heavy work boots. A leather jacket on top. He picks up his rucksack and helmet and noisily leaves your room.

The guy who comes into your room in the evening is not your flatmate. At least not at first glance. He notices your questioning look. "I cut hair. More handy with helmet. Like it?" He kneads his impressive bulge. He smells of sweat, leather and engine oil. You get a hard-on and fall to your knees.

Your flatmate is actually more of a lone Slavic wolf. He doesn't make a big deal out of it. He loves his bike, he loves his job as a mechanic and he loves pumping iron. Pretty much in that order. But sometimes he needs a pillion. Someone to suck his cheesy uncut cock. And you love that job.

Slika pronađena @zakucavanje

[nevesmose]

Bandages on Broken Souls: A Nostramo Culture/Lore Post

Sometimes I think about the wee lower-deck people that were all covered in bandages in the Night Lords Trilogy. Why so bandagey? (Bandagepilled wrapmaxxers, not beating the bandage allegations, etc)

She glanced at the wretch, who was unhealthily tall and sexless in its overcloak, keeping its face behind stained bandages. Several others lurked close to the door, whispering amongst themselves. It was impossible not to smell their sweat, their stinking, bloodstained bandages, and the rancid oil-blood of their bionics.

Those ones. The attendants providing for Octavia's needs as a Navigator. Octavia's attendants.

It turns out ADB does tell us a bit later on:

The chlorine reek of them offended his senses, the way it rose in a miasma from their antiseptic-soaked bandages, as if such trivial protections could ward against the changes of the warp.

This is very interesting to me for a few reasons since it can lead to various interpretations about Nostraman culture, even though it's important to bear in mind that what we're seeing is the degraded situation after however-many thousand subjective years of dicking about in the Warp, Eye of Terror etc.

They believe, or at least Ruven the POV character here thinks they believe, that warp mutation can be defended against with purely physical items i.e. bandages and disinfectant. While it's easy to point to examples of people from all kinds of cultures in the setting using spiritual or metaphysical ways to protect themselves from the warp, I find it interesting that this doesn't seem to occur to the Nostramans.

In fact, unless I'm remembering it wrong (always a possibility tbh) other than a small mention in one of the Gendor Skraivok short stories about there being a secret Lectitio Divinitatus cult among the serfs, there seems to be very little spiritual/religious belief organic to Nostramo itself.

That makes some sense, I think. It is after all Space Gotham, a world of armoured groundcars and looming starscrapers where everyone is living under some form or another of very high pressure just to survive whether that means getting their next meal or keeping their position in high level gang politics. Whatever beliefs the original settlers brought with them to the Sunless World were, I imagine, ground away over time as generations passed and people had other, more visceral concerns.

There are a few scenes in the 1984 nuclear war TV movie Threads that take place in the period about 10-20 years after the bombs have fallen. It's clear that the by now rapidly deteriorating survivors of the pre-war world are trying as best they can to provide some kind of education for their post-war descendants, but this is extremely limited and relies on what they can gather together from whatever books, VHS tapes etc happened to survive the war:

"The skeleton of a cat! A cat's skeleton!"

And we can see that it simply means nothing to the children and young adults whose entire existence revolves around basic survival - mostly food and the things they have to do in order to get it.

This, in a way, is what I think happened to whatever beliefs in anything beyond the material that may have ever existed on Nostramo by the time we see it in the Crusade/Heresy era. It's a sad, stunted little world and I feel immensely sorry for the nasty, skeevy people it produced.

Another factor affecting this would of course be the Night Haunter. You don't really need to have a spiritual/metaphorical figure or system dispensing rules and justice when Konrad is actually real and inside your home making it brutally clear what his views on law-breaking are.

So, in my usual roundabout way, we come back to the bandages again. My view, as I've expressed before in my ramblings, is that Konrad didn't truly eradicate crime on Nostramo so much as eradicate the appearance of it.

There's a legend from Ancient Greece about a Spartan boy training to be a warrior which I'll post as a screenshot below since I think we could all do with a break from my writing style for a bit:

"He could steal and suffer and die rather than be found out" is the relevant part here I think. Much like the idea that snitches get stitches or the mafia code of omertà where one's value in society and life itself hinge on a mutual keeping of silence against any and all authority figures.

We know that even before Konrad arrived, Nostraman society functioned on a gang allegiance basis, so already fertile ground for a very insular and secretive type of culture. But then we add the Night Haunter to the mix and the numbers spell disaster for you at Sacrifice the social pressure in this direction ramps up massively.

It's also made very clear pretty much everywhere that Nostramo is a vicious, predatory society. There's a description in one of the Skraivok stories of Phy Orlon, the canonical smallest saddest uwu-iest Night Lord:

It astounded Skraivok how such a vulpine little thing had made it through the selection process. Even bulked by legionary gifts, Orlon still managed to convey the impression of feebleness. Towards the end, Nostramo had been providing only the dregs of the dregs. No wonder Curze had levelled the place.

Weakness was like the scent of blood in the water to the Night Lords. Legionaries like Orlon would always attach themselves to those they deemed powerful, for protection. That explained the ridiculous batwings welded to the top of his helm in emulation of Sevatar, and why he had appointed himself as Skraivok’s adjutant.

It's like prison or high school. Even the transhuman supersoldier Nostramans still function this way. What hope do ordinary people have?

Not much at all, I think. Just in order to survive day to day it'd be necessary to conceal any injury, weakness or deformity at the risk of having it being ruthlessly used against you by just about everyone.

So we come back to the bandages again. Told you I'd get there eventually. We see that the attendants are in fact completely covered in bandages Joshua Graham style:

‘Lord,’ they hissed through slits in their faces that were once lips. Their bloodstained bandages rustled as they shifted and lowered their weapons.

[...]

She raised a bandaged hand, as if she could possibly bar the warrior’s passage with a demand, let alone with her physical presence.

I can imagine the impulse to cover up and conceal any weakness applies very strongly to warp mutations of any sort. Curdled and degraded over millennia roaming the immaterium in the bowels of a ship with the changes becoming worse and worse the longer they go on, it would be plausible for this to develop into a need to cover up and disinfect every inch of oneself in order to maintain some pretence, however flimsy, of being a capable human being.

The saddest part of it for me, though, is that all of the attendants are like this. It's a situation where everyone is quite literally in the same boat, undergoing the same suffering, and yet they still retain this deeply-ingrained need to hide and conceal themselves from each other. It feels like even here, ten thousand years after its destruction, Nostramo's poison is still influencing them, still flowing through their veins to keep them separated, afraid, and deeply alone.

Oh wow, a few paragraphs from ADB somehow led to a great long wall of text. Congratulations if you've made it this far!

PS: This being ADB I feel obliged to consider the possibility of Ruven either lying or being mistaken. I don't think this is likely since he is a) also Nostraman and b) a sorcerer meaning that if there was any spiritual aspect going on he would more than likely have the requisite cultural/magical knowledge or experience to be aware of it or otherwise detect it. Ruven is a conniving goth thot but he has no reason to lie in that particular bit of his own thoughts.

[vermutandherring]

Well, it's not like I make characters for Sims now...

My blog about video games in general, when The Sims is only small part of my hobby. At the moment this blog has near 60 followers, most of whom are Sims players. But I'm grateful to all of you, regardless of whether you came because of a meme post about MG, analyses of Vampyr or to download something for Sims. I hope my works inspire you, make you think or laugh, you find them useful or just pretty, worth to share or just to catch cringe (I do not exclude anything from the above).

So with this post I want to make little Bingo~

I really adore Leon from the original Resident Evil 4 among all other versions of his character. Actually that's why I wrote Biohazard instead of RE.

His character came a long way during development of RE4, originally known in Japan as Biohazard. In some places, the vision of the plot by the developers and the changes were so striking that later the project was divided into 2 parts. One turned into the Resident Evil 4 we know today. The other is on Devil May Cry.

His character clearly demonstrates how our perception of certain things changes over time. Leon of the early 2000s is a kind of nihilist. He mocks difficulties and does not care about his traumatized past, unless it concerns Ada - his real weak point, in communication with whom he loses all his Casanova charm.

His masculinity, expressed in character and physical form, is interspersed with delicate facial features and the luster of porcelain skin, which hint at something of the bishōnen aesthetic.

Today, this stylization, once caused by the limited capabilities of the game engine, has completely disappeared. The actor and his face in front of the game design came first. The ideal hero has turned into a person with a lively character and all the problems from the past.

But what really surprises me is that he has been wearing the same hairstyle for 40 years.

I hate it when bangs get in my eyes. Leon has iron patience.

About Sim

Sim is base game compatible. The vast majority of custom content are face sliders. I don't know if sim would look the same without them, but I've included all the ones I used, so you can install them as you see fit. What you definitely need is an eyes preset. Body preset at your discretion. The rest of CC are genetics and cosmetics (20 positions in general).

Without genetics on right (I use eyes replacement).

DOWNLOAD | MediaFire (free)

You may be interested:

Art in Resident Evil 4 and other games

Bishōnen aesthetic and how it can be used in games

CC credits:

@obscurus-sims @lemon-sims4 @silumeo @dumbabysims @lutessasims @pralinesims @pyxiidis @sims3melancholic @remussims [HAYDEN] @luumia

I forgot to add to the archive gloves from the screenshot. It's Gloves fingerless by helgatisha.

Gun poses (Beretta v.2)

Flying crows from Crow Pack by @natalia-auditore

Architectural decor by @thejim07 | @felixandresims and others~

For the screenshots used Silent Hill Reshade 3.0 Preset for TS4 by fuchsiateasims (for me works with 4.7)

Info on the screenshots taken from Crimson-Head RE Podcasts.

[joysmercer]

post-season 3

Terri will freely admit that she wasn’t overly enthusiastic about her daughter suddenly deciding (with less than a month’s notice) to spend two weeks of summer at a camp run by her boyfriend and otherwise minimal adult supervision. Yes, a lot of it was because she (selfishly) wanted her daughter to spend that time with her after not being together for half a year, but she was also concerned on a more general level: across the country with no cell phones? The summer before her junior year? Terri would much rather she stay home, focus on SAT prep if anything, and prepare for her future—not go to some theatre workshop where she’s unlikely to learn anything of value. 

It did help to find out that Gina has been cast as the lead in the first-ever stage production of a wildly popular Disney movie and will also be starring in the associated documentary. This is a novel experience, can go on her college apps and résumé, and really, who is she to judge when all expenses are paid in exchange for signing a few release forms? 

Still, she misses the days she could hear about each rehearsal straight from the source instead of random teasers dropped on the Disney+ twitter account, and she especially hates that she has to work and miss Gina’s big debut. By the time intermission is called on the livestream, Terri (ever-so-grateful for the weekend off) is already en-route to California. 

Terri pulls into the Shallow Lake parking lot and spots Gina immediately among the throng of campers checking out and saying their goodbyes. She’s grown at least an inch, Terri realizes with a jolt. Gina is nearly seventeen now, on the brink of adulthood, and the way she’s carrying herself now demonstrates a demeanor entirely different from the teenager she’d dropped off at MSY just a few months ago. Why does time always move so fast with these kids? 

Gina whips around as soon as Terri slams the car door shut, as if she was able to hear it from all the way across the yard, letting out a loud squeal of delight that sends Terri’s heart melting before launching herself straight into her mother’s arms. Terri is instantly reminded of a five-year-old Gina doing the exact same thing at kindergarten pickup.

“Hey, sweet pea,” she whispers, returning her daughter’s tight hug. Some things never change. 

“Mom? What are you even doing here? I thought you were closing on the house? Oh my god, I had no idea—"

“I finished all that yesterday, and since I have a free weekend, I thought we could take a mother-daughter road-trip back home – just like old times.” While their last few moves had been too far apart to drive, she and Gina used to spent nearly every school holiday or long weekend transporting their lives across state lines while eating their fill of fast food and pancakes, touring random obscure roadside attractions, and making some of their fondest memories. 

Gina beams. “I’d love that,” she says, bouncing on her heels excitedly. “I finished packing, actually, so I just need to take care of one thing real quick and we can head out.”

Then she smiles big and wide again, an expression she saves for truly special occasions (like, apparently, 10 hours with her mother in a car), and quickly kisses Terri’s cheek. “Love you, mommy. Be back in a bit.” 

Gina sprints off in the direction of, according to a nearby sign, a “Yurt Locker”. Strange name, Terri thinks. She doesn’t have a chance muse on it (or what the hell it even means) further, though, because someone bellows GENEVIEVE MARIE! so loudly that both Gina and Terri, now at least 20 feet apart, jump at the sound. 

The source of the voice appears a second later—or at least Terri assumes that’s who the curly-haired boy with a shit-eating grin on his face now standing in front of Gina is, given her daughter’s currently crossed arms, flushed cheeks, and, surprisingly, equally playful smile. Terri eyes the boy curiously. Gina doesn’t give out her full name to just anyone and rarely allows anyone to use it (Terri can’t remember the last time she herself even said the word Genevieve, let alone added her middle name to the mix). But Gina seems entirely unfazed now, as if having this boy yell it for all to hear is a regular occurrence. Who is he?

Then she notices the acoustic guitar he’s clutching, and it hits her. Kristoff: Ricky Bowen.

It had been a while since Gina had mentioned Ricky in their weekly FaceTimes. His name had only ever come up in relation to Ashlen’s role of Belle in the spring musical, and even then, it was mostly to complain about his two left feet. If it weren’t for a panicked text conversation on Valentine’s Day (Gina’s teddy bear got lost in transit, long story), Terri would have entirely forgotten about him.

Clearly, not only has his dancing greatly improved this summer (if yesterday was any evidence), but so has his friendship with her daughter.  

Ricky pulls out a set of keys and gestures to the parking lot, fanning his face with his free hand, and that’s when Terri realizes he’s wearing…a pink-and-blue snowsuit. Gina laughs and rolls her eyes at him, clearly teasing him about his ridiculous attire for an LA summer, but when he says something else, Gina suddenly shakes her head, pointing straight at Terri. 

Terri gives a small wave to the kids, and Ricky immediately waves back excitedly.  Okay, then. 

Turning back to Gina, Ricky says something else and Gina smiles shyly and nods. Terri watches as the pair hugs goodbye, a motion that is simultaneously so natural neither think twice about it—falling into a tight embrace that nearly lifts Gina off the ground—but so awkward when they separate that Terri can feel the tension from all the way over here. Okay, then, indeed. 

Ricky meanders toward the bright orange bug almost double-parked in the last slot of the lot. Terri recognizes the car from her driveway last fall – but also remembers Gina mentioning that Ashlen’s boyfriend also drives an orange bug that the three of them and EJ would carpool to school in, leaving Terri to wonder which possibility is weirder: that Ricky and his friend got matching ugly vehicles together, or that Ricky transported his friend’s car across state lines for two weeks and his friend actually agreed to it. 

There isn’t much she knows about Ricky Bowen, actually, except that he has an apparent penchant for nabbing lead roles out from under everyone else’s noses and—surprisingly—actually justifying those casting choices. Gina’s scene partners are often so dry she has to work double-time to make the chemistry believable. Last night, however, Ricky showed a level of talent that nearly matched her own daughter’s in the way he was able to hold the audience captive even without Gina on stage with him. There was one solo of his in particular that had actually caught Terri’s attention (she had taken the opportunity to answer some emails) when, right at the end, he suddenly directed the final line of the song away from the audience and into the wings: you’re what I know about love, he sang, straight to Ana. Straight to Gina. It was not only a genius move but one she doubted he was directed to do—he must have come up with it himself. 

Still, something about him sets Terri on edge. Questionable decisions (seriously, snowsuit?) aside, he has the demeanor of a class clown, someone who stays while it’s fun but bolts when things get hard. It makes Terri uneasy, especially since it’s clear that this is someone Gina cares deeply about. 

“Sorry about that.” Gina’s back, suitcases in hand, shaking Terri out of her reverie. “I had to tell Ricky I didn’t need a ride first.” 

“Oh, I thought EJ was giving you a ride home,” Terri says, taking one of the suitcases from Gina. 

A tense silence. “Mom, I told you we broke up, remember?” 

“I know, sweetheart,” Terri quickly assures her. Gina had called early yesterday morning from Kourtney’s phone, relating the news with a quick “it was a long time coming, we’re still friends, prom was super fun otherwise, see you soon” and hanging up before Terri could even get an I’m sorry out. “I just assumed you’d keep the same arrangement since Ashlen and your other friends are there, too.” She winces. “I see how silly that sounds out loud, though.” 

“Yeah.” More silence. 

“Do you want to talk about it?” Terri asks gently. 

Gina shakes her head no emphatically. “I told you, it wasn’t really a surprise. I’m fine.”

“Okay, okay, got the hint.” Terri laughs, sighing internally with relief when Gina gives her a (albeit watery) smile. She opens the car trunk and shoves the suitcase inside.

“So, why was Ricky wearing a snowsuit?” Terri asks as they settle in and buckle up, unable to keep the question to herself any longer. 

“Oh, he wasn’t supposed to be at camp at all, and showed up without a ton of clothes, so he mostly borrowed from others I think, and got pizza all over his laundry yesterday, too.” she giggles slightly, then continues, “plus the guys dumped ice water on themselves last night and he put is wet towel on top of his open suitcase, like an idiot.” She says all this with the nonchalance of someone explaining 1+1=2, not…whatever she just said about sudden enrollment, pizza, and ice water. 

“That doesn’t explain the snowsuit,” Terri says, now even more confused. 

“Rumor has it he was supposed to go skiing with his ex? he didn’t say, though." Gina shrugs. 

“that girl Jamie’s working with?” 

“No.” Gina doesn’t elaborate. 

“Well, regardless, he’s very talented,” Terri supplies. “I did enjoy that one ballad of his yesterday, the one with the guitar and lights.” 

“Oh.” Gina smiles softly, almost to herself. “I liked that one too.” 

Terri’s stomach twists, like they’re about to go barreling off a cliff they can’t see and can’t stop. 

“Is he doing the fall musical as well?”

“I dunno. Probably. It’s his senior year, he won’t have many more chances.” 

“I didn’t realize he’s a year ahead of you,” Terri says, surprised. “How are his college apps coming along?”

“Mom,” Gina groans. “It’s literally summer vacation, and believe it or not, I didn’t ask. He probably hasn’t even started thinking about them yet.” 

“Fair,” Terri says, although, internally, she disagrees. if Ricky were truly serious about his future, he would have had his summer plans set in place long ago, and a solid school list by now. 

I can tell you like him, Gigi, she thinks. And then, suddenly, I wish you didn’t. 

It’s a strange thought, and a foreign one—Gina has yet to make a friend that Terri straight-up disapproves of.  What Ricky does with his life is really none of her business, and Gina’s a smart girl—she won’t go rushing into poor decisions even if her friends are walking bundles of chaos. Plus, from the little she’s seen, it’s clear he cares about Gina, too. Maybe as much as she does him. 

But Gina in a relationship is…different. Gina in a relationship was more carefree, a little less focused. She begged to go to prom despite having an exam the next Monday, she shifted her summer plans around for a camp she showed no interest in before, and she prioritized FaceTimes and texting every night over reading or sleeping. there were no lasting negative repercussions for any of this, but if there was ever a time for Gina to conserve her extra energy for something worthwhile, it’s now. 

Ricky a good friend, Terri decides. As friends, he keeps her grounded—but anything more than that? She’s just not sure. 

[wonderful-magician]

What if

I wanted to rant about Electra

And did

Okay a lot of this ranting is just made up nonsense! ( Obv based off the musical itself ) I'm rewriting the musical to my tastes and would like to actually discuss the characters more than the musical is able too. This is more like a TV show set-up to be honest.

Okay main point I want to get out of the way. Electra is an antagonist. But he SUCKS at being a antagonist- for rusty. I genuinely don't remember any times he actually addresses rusty that's like actually important. He's really just a driving force against greaseball. He seems way more upset about diesel than steam. Though to be fair, he seems so confident in himself I doubt he's worried about some kid who's just kinda there.

Because Electra just appears. Unlike rusty and greaseball who are established to know each other. Electra literally just APPEARS. He's not part of the nationals. He wasn't even originally entered into the race. He just appears. And is here now. And he just wants to show off and beat the previous champion. Why would he acknowledge the steam engine who has no chance???

He doesn't even do anything outwardly malicious. I mean he listens to Red Caboose's plan and doesn't really mind that they cheat. And uhm. I guess he goes with pearl but she consented and willingly did that so it's not .. the worst. And he sometimes electrocutes people. But really most of the musical he just stands next to rusty and greaseball fighting while like " :/ " or just flirting with the components or something I don't know.

Of course this doesn't change the fact he's an asshole. He's apathetic and very naive honestly. He only cares about himself, and has tantrums like an actual toddler. He doesn't even ask out the pretty girls himself he has his accountant/security guy do that lmao. He's obviously not a guy used to doing anything himself. Or used to losing. And is just generally annoying to anybody who meets him. But he's probably the *most* redeemable of the three antags. In of which. Idk I feel like just having him live at the Apollo-Victoria for a few years or something would help just get him out of his stupid attitude hfhdbdb

A little bit indulgent perhaps. But i feel like in a episodic setting Electra would probably lose some of his apathetic tendencies. Not all of them- he's a computer. And he'll always be self centered and care a lot less about others feelings than most. But I could truly see him befriending Rusty, pearl, maybe even Dinah. Though I don't know if he'd ever get along with greaseball... Give it like 20 years... Maybe more... A lot of time.

But I truly think with the right circumstances he could just be??? A confident guy who is a bit inconsiderate?? Probably still whiny because you can't take the diva out of Electra but y'know what I mean.

Even MORE indulgent. I want a Dustin and Electra friendship SO BAD YOU DON'T UNDERSTAND. These two are like. Opposites. But in the way that I just feel like they would help each other SO MUCH RAAAH. Electra is confident but struggles with empathy?? Dustin is overly empathetic and very insecure?? THEY COULD HELP EACH OTHER SO MUCH AAAA. Ok ok I need to stop with that.

But essentially I just think that Electra is this young guy. Like really young. He's one of the ( potentially, the youngest ) youngest people in the cast. Only a few years in service and he's already got a horrific ego. Just because he is TRULY good at racing. Can't take that from him. Even if he's very late. Like. Really late to the entry. But I just think he's this young guy who kinda threw himself into the wrong situation. Probably not realizing that messing with Caboose is a horrible idea. And that he was unknowingly racing against gods favorite so. oops.

Ok anyway I should shut up now ok I like Electra he's cool but he's a horrible antagonist but I love him and this probably is really hard to read (⁠＾⁠∇⁠＾⁠)⁠ﾉ⁠♪

Oh also why does nobody ever use his hypnotism powers. He has those. Are- are we going to ignore that-?? Ok...