ihaventpaidtaxessince2011-deact
top 10 preminger moments
aziraiphale
My future partner, proposing to me: wow, this must be the best moment of your life
Me, thinking about the moment I watched this video: Yeah it’s up there.
“best case scenario: it’s nothing. he dropped his bag to help someone out, it got moved out of the way, he’ll turn up and start bitching about tears and dirt stains, you’ll tell him to shut the hell up, even though he won’t listen, he never listens, and you’ll hang on to every word as he keeps talking. (this is unlikely. he wouldn’t set that bag down, wouldn’t abandon any of his things even if the world was burning) next best scenario: someone stole it. he’ll be battered and bruised, because no one got that bag without a fight, and you’ll tell him what a fucking idiot he is. he’ll make some joke, he always does, and you’ll remind him again of how much you hate him. he’ll remind you of how much you don’t. (this is slightly less unlikely, but be realistic— he wouldn’t give up any of his things even if he were burning) okay, next best: he ran. “best” is a relative term here, “best” implies it’s anything good but really your chest has never felt so fractured and the ground is tilting and everything is wrong. maybe he ran. is that why he asked you to let him go? why he insisted he be set free? (this is even less unlikely. it borders on likely, be honest. he’d throw all his things to the wind if he felt like he was burning) next best: he was taken. you know he’s perched on a throne of lies, buried in his own secrets of a past he tried to torch. he isn’t safe, he never was, never was going to be, no matter what you had to say about it. stopshakingstopshakingstopshaking thisisn'thelping— you hate him. you hate him so much. you hate that you hurt for him. (this is likely. this is very likely. he’d never let his things go unless you were burning.) worst case scenario: he’s dead.”
— if you were really amazing you wouldn’t have let him go // es (via reynclds07)
Apollo: love isn’t real
Hermes: you’re literally making a Valentine’s Day card for Hyacinthus
Apollo *pointing a glue gun at him*: you’re on thin fucking ice
xmen character posters: jean grey, phoenix
Jean Grey is the only class five mutant I’ve ever encountered, her potential limitless. Her mutation is seated in the unconscious part of her mind and therein lay the danger. When she was a girl, I created a series of psychic barriers to isolate her powers from her conscious mind. Jean developed a dual personality. The conscious Jean, whose powers were always in her control, and the dormant side. A personality that, in our sessions, came to call itself the Phoenix. A purely instinctual creature, all desire and joy and rage.
scott @ jean: it’s fine that you have some feelings for logan. in fact, i understand why you do. i love you and you love me and we’re together and that’s all that matters. petty jealousy isn’t me
scott @ logan whenever hes upset and petty: hey logan tried to fuck my wife lately you friendless wifefucker
half of Scott’s lines in dark phoenix (2019) are just “jean” and honestly I felt that
u see a moodboard with a black bird in almost every picture. is it a ravenclaw moodboard? the foxhole court? six of crows? the raven cycle? you don’t know. there’s a gay couple. a pile of books. what fandom is it for????? you don’t have a clue. the world may never know.
Anonymous asked:
neil and any of the fox fam with #1? i live for angst
01: “I’m sorry.”
In retrospect, they really should’ve hired some sort of security for the court. It sits nestled into campus like Palmetto’s gaudy oversized jewel, bright bright white like glaring snow, impossible to pass by without some part of you wanting to deface it.
It’s also like a neat little box with Neil’s name on the label. Even though his biggest enemies are mercifully holding back with an open palm and a cocked gun, he has a host of new people to fight since he’s been in the news. A thousand more misguided fans trying to come calling.
A year ago he would’ve understood that staying at Palmetto is like a wanted man staying in a burning house, waiting for the smoke or the police to get him first. But Neil has a taste for smoke, now. It’s so easy to stay at the court, where he’s surrounded by family — most of whom have mile long protective streaks and criminal records like the markings on poisonous snakes.
He’s not worried. He has Andrew simmering at his side with the best right hook he’s ever seen and a clinical willingness to kill someone if the occasion should call for it. He’s wasn’t worried. He should’ve been worried.
It’s a former Raven who ends up coming for him; someone who took the tyranny of Riko’s regime and tried to shrug the crown on himself. Someone who got a taste for the sweet, dark paralysis of a life that’s never yours.
Neil never leaves a door to close without waiting for the click of the latch, so he can’t imagine how this bulky, wild-eyed person came to be facing him in the heart of the court, palming a gun from his pocket into a threat at half mast.
Neil’s head is a full suitcase. He can’t even see through the panic. There’s stuffing coming out of his eyes and all he wants to do is gather it up and run.
It’s stupid, really, that he hadn’t properly tried to see this coming. He’d discarded the possibility and settled into the flames.
The guy— Spencer?— is a raven dealer with an upper body that could incapacitate Neil with one well-placed collision. He watches the old raven line number shift on his chest as he shoulders the door to the court open. Neil considers the heft of a ball still in his racquet. His aim isn’t precise enough to take out the gun if Spencer still has the presence of mind to be a moving target. Kevin would know how to calculate his odds and find an angle that works, but all Neil has is his nerve and his speed.
“If rumour serves, you’ve changed a lot, Nathaniel.”
Neil shifts backwards, adjusting his grip and breathing through the familiarity of the gesture. Hunted, defended, retreating.
The Foxhole Court as Vines: Part Three
I need to stop but I prolly won’t.
glacier
nathaniel is a raven and andrew hates him on principal.
-
“No.”
The second Andrew says the word, something about Riko Moriyama’s face fractures for the briefest moment. A grin, wide and playful cracks Andrew’s face in half at catching a glimpse of the ugly little creature behind the media mask. Andrew doesn’t like liars, nor does he like masks; to see the truth in that moment was enough to know he didn’t want that dirty blood on his hands.
But Andrew is no longer interested in Riko, nor his many and intricate complexes. Andrew is looking at the three Ravens standing behind him. There is Kevin Day, looking bitter and offended with his arms crossed and a fire in his green, green eyes. He looked ready to mutiny the longer Andrew ignores Moriyama, and Andrew is just tickled by it; there is Jean Moreau, dark-haired, dark-eyed, and a disdainful twist to his pale lips that seemed permanent. Both of them had flanked Riko when he walked in the locker room, but it was the last one, the auburn-haired shadow that lingered in the back.
He’d propped himself against the wall near the doorway, his hands tucked in his pockets and his body as still as stone. Andrew hadn’t missed the way his eyes had scanned every inch of the room when the Ravens walked in together, nor was he able to ignore the way those bright, icy-blues never left him. Riko was still talking at him, Kevin was failing at intervening, and the third one, Jean, hissed at Kevin in French again; it was all peripheral, just white noise to his ears the longer that other one stared at him.
“Staring.”
The only acknowledgment of his accusation that earns him is the subtle curve of that mouth. Sharp as a knife, Andrew thinks, and can’t help the way his lips crack in a feral grin that stops all chatter among the other Ravens. There’s something calculating in the way Riko is watching him now, his black eyes darting from Andrew to his other cohort, and back again.
“Come. We will return tomorrow.” He announces and turns on his heel to leave the locker room.
The last Raven to leave the room is him, and Andrew isn’t sure what to think of that chilly gaze meeting locking on his own. They stand there, watching each other as the clock ticks down to another minute and it makes his skin crawl to realize it’s curiosity building beneath his skin the longer the striker watches him.
“Give me your name.” Andrew commands, not bothering to stand or approach him.
There is laughter in those blue, blue eyes and the Raven merely shrugs as he finally pushes off the wall, “Earn it.”
Andrew finds that response more infuriating that he wants to admit; outwardly, his hands tighten on the edge of the bench, his eyes narrow, and the blood red WESNINSKI emblazoned across the Raven’s back disappears from the doorway.
He well and truly hates difficult people.
PSA
Neil Josten gets his doctorate in applied mathematics. For fun.
His logic: I had the money to go back to school and I wanted something to keep me occupied during the off-season.
During a post-game interview: “Mr. Josten!” “It’s Dr. Josten, actually, thanks.”
This drives Aaron Minyard up the fucking wall. Andrew is delighted.
THIS IS MY JAM
I LIVE for math genius Neil
(And in super bitter that I accidentally deleted the post I made about it yesterday)
DUDE. THAT MIGHT HAVE BEEN THE POST THAT INSPIRED THIS THOUGHT. DUE CREDIT.
YO I’M SO PUMPED TO HAVE MORE MATH GENIUS NEIL IN MY LIFE
Abby: you have ptsd
Andrew: hell yeah I have ptsd: Proficient Talent for Sucking Dick lmao
Abby: maybe we can talk about your use of humor as an unhealthy coping mechanism for the trauma you’ve experienced
Andrew: Abby, I don’t think you understand how clever that joke was.
neil and andrew get duolingo when they start learning russian together and it very quickly becomes an all out war
neil: where’s my phone?
andrew, who hid it twenty minutes ago: I haven’t seen it :/
neil: if I don’t find it within the next six minutes I will lose my thirty day streak and when the duolingo owl comes for me, andrew, I will tell him where you are
It may seem that my life revolves around aftg but yes it does
Dan: So, Matt and I got in a fight yesterday.
Allison: What happened?
Dan: I told him to take what was his and leave.
Allison: What did he do?
Dan: He picked up Neil and left.
neil: [eating a cinnamon roll]
matt: cannibalism
neil: [confused chewing noises]
foxxy news
- ok im don’t know much about American politics much, I keep an eye out to make sure they’re not about to bring about the end of the world
- but am I right in thinking Fox News are like the arseholes of journalism?
- so imagine how pissed off Neil Josten is that these people who share the Fox name are actually who arseholes.
- And so, one drunken night, after many beverages of the alcoholic kind he tells one of the upperclassmen to film him.
- He steals Andrews glasses to look more professional and then continues to drunkenly report current news and bash corrupt politicians or whatever like an actual tv news anchor.
- That night Nicky drunkenly uploads it to the Foxes YouTube channel we all know exists.
- And that’s how Neil get’s his own monthly show (because that’s how often he gets drunk) news show.
- It so popular to the point where people are requesting he talk about specific stories.
- As always when I write about the foxes interacting w social media, Wymack is hiding in his office w a bottle of something repeatedly muttering “im not payed enough for this shit”.
the foxes start a twitter burner account called “IsItGayIf” and it’s just a series of tweets about interactions between andrew and neil that are all formatted like this:
“fellas, is it gay if you let your homie give you forehead kisses 😳”
and the last tweet on the account before it goes completely silent is:
“fellas, is it gay if you learn a whole new language that none of your teammates can understand so they can’t tweet about the gay shit y'all be sayin to each other anymore 😑”
kevin, helping aaron get ready for his trial: i would like to represent my client’s internet search history from that evening
aaron, leaning into the fake mic: i’d rather just confess to the murder
matt: (talking to the jury)
the jury (dan nicky and allison): oh hell yeah!! take it off!!!!
aaron:
neil: (the drunk judge) due to the client being a little bitch, i sentence him to electric—and i cannot stress this enough— chair.
(loud bang) (muffled yelling) (allison repeatedly yelling “fight!!!”)