#I kind of feel like doing all four of these in one is a copout

[traincat]

got the sudden urge to re-read 'work song' this weekend after years of not really being into spideytorch anymore. the fic is still incredible, it's reminding me why i used to love them, but it got me wondering -- was there ever any canon fallout from sue, reed, and the kids being gone like that? i had already stopped reading the comics at that point.

It's funny, I've been thinking of Work Song recently too. I obviously like to get into the guts of canon in a lot of my fic, but Work Song was really an exercise in getting into the emotional fallout that comics tend not to deal with -- for both good and bad reasons. (I think the modern lack of dealing with pretty much any emotional fallout is bad, but also if you have a serial story you have to keep a certain amount of action going. Idk, complicated thoughts about pacing and sacrifices made for genre standards and the shifting of those standards from decade to decade, etc., etc.)

And the answer to whether the fallout is ever addressed in 616 canon is... kind of no? I think there were attempts made -- both Zdarsky in his Two-in-One series and Bendis, somewhat, in Infamous Iron Man were sort of digging into things, albeit notably before Reed and Sue were actually back. (Both of those series deal HEAVILY with their absence, though.) But both of those series were also cut short, and they have finales I'm not quite satisfied with, which in this case is the fault of neither author. I think Zdarsky tried with his final two issues of Two-in-One especially, especially the one that focuses on Johnny and Sue, but just didn't have the space to address the issue of Reed and Sue essentially leaving Johnny and Ben with the gravitas and nuance that it deserved. And given that Johnny is, you know, flat out suicidal over this issue in the first ten issues of Two-in-One, that's a problem. (IIM also has a disappointing final two issues, but it focuses much more on Ben and Doom than on Johnny. Hell of a setup, wish it didn't feature the biggest copout resolution of all time.) And again I don't think this is either writer's fault -- they were both clearly trying to do something interesting and emotional, and 2n1 had a really good set up and character work. It just wasn't given the space to stick any kind of landing before everything had to be wrapped up in a tidy little bow so Slott could write some mystifyingly bad stories. (I don't believe Slott ever seriously addresses the fallout, but I could be wrong. I skimmed the back half of that run hard.)

And also I think this was something of a foundational problem that sprung from Reed and Sue and the kids going missing not as an actual story point but as a hissy fit over film rights. There was never any solid plan in action for where they were or what they were doing or what Ben and Johnny fought over that caused Ben to leave for space and Johnny to spiral out of control -- it was all just "this is happening now because we canceled the Fantastic Four comic because we want the film rights." It's very hard to build a story on shaky ground like that when you've got multiple writers, all who seemed to have slightly different takes, and apparently no one on an editorial level actually managing all of that to make sure there was a cohesive story in place. Even if the reader doesn't have that information, there should be some kind of established story for the writers to follow, and it kind of seemed like there just wasn't. (I say "kind of seemed" because obviously I wasn't there and I don't know for sure, but also like, we know for sure that there wasn't. By reading the comics it was very clear that there wasn't.) It's frustrating to think about it now because it could have been some really great storytelling, and instead it was addressed just barely and then kind of rushed along. And I feel similarly about Superior Spider-Man's fallout, except they keep resurrecting that concept every two years and kicking it around like it has anything interesting left in it.

[inventors-fair]

“Two Part of the Turn” Commentary: Time Warpin’

Well, for the first contest of the year from me, there aren’t going to be judge picks—because with this number of entries on this strong a level with this amount of specific critique I can talk about, there’s really no point, is there? Besides the standouts in the winners, I had something I really liked about everyone’s entries this week. Is “You’re all judge picks!” a copout? I don’t think so when there’s so much condensed talent.

I’m surprised that a lot of these cards were...conservative in their weirdness? Yeah, some of them were super weird, but I kind of expected new ground to be broken. The ground that was broken was really strong and fertile earth, don’t get me wrong. Ah well, maybe examples would’ve been helpful, but I’m never sure if they are. Next time I’ll consider some aspects of the contest with what I’m looking for beforehand.

That’s the rub, innit. You are all so creative in your works that sometimes it feels as if examples are a hindrance. Regardless, let’s go through and talk about some cards.

@bergdg​ — Rush of the Bloodrage

Conceptually, love it. Pragmatically, love it too. The base of this card, a multiplayer-oriented enchantment that throws combat into the foreground, is vitally important to the flavor of this card and the feeling of its impact on the battlefield. I can feel both the strength of double-combat that benefits from doubling your tokens as well, the eventual leadup that ensures the bloodshed, and the weirdness that comes from it. Now, you don’t get bonus points for mentioning four steps, but I think it’s really neat that you did.

Your wording needs a lot of work on this one. Based on my skimming, I believe this card should be worded:

“At the beginning of your upkeep, you may skip each of your main phases this turn. If you do, after your first combat phase, there’s an additional combat phase. At the beginning of that combat, untap all creatures you control. // At the beginning of combat on your turn, for each opponent, create a 3/2 red Berserker creature token. Each token created this way gains haste and attacks this combat if able.”

Using: Frontier Siege, World at War, Veteran Soldier, Determined Iteration.

~

@bread-into-toast​ — Ovalchase Stalwart

This one was super close, but there’s a single frustrating flaw: the second ability. If your opponents don’t have any legal targets, you’d be forced to smack down on one of your own things, which actively discourages attacking the way you want to. All it needed was “up to one target” or “target creature or planeswalker you don’t control.” As it stands, the card can lead to unintuitive gameplay. Everything else, though? Love it.

I get this guy! And he’s doing amazing things smacking down the Phyrexian invasion with vehicles. I love how you incorporated the vehicles into the art because it ties mechanically into the fact that tapping creatures will increase the eventual damage and that even revving your car will mean this guy can throw it into an offender. Great combat trick, great way to make your vehicles and creatures in general stronger. Is there a reason it would be postcombat and not end step? Not that there’s a huge difference, I suppose. Maybe you have a reason; I’d love to hear.

~

@fractured-infinity​ — Ancient Chronomancer

This card read weird to me for a number of reasons that I couldn’t place—that second ability, anyway—so I just did some digging. And wouldn’t you know, there IS simple precedent! Well, “simple.” The card is Fasting, from The Dark, of all places. I believe that, based on that, you card should have a replacement ability that reads: “If you would begin your combat phase, skip that phase and begin an additional draw step instead.” The most egregious part is you saying “draw phase” instead of “draw step” but that’s small potatoes when you’re swinging for the fences.

Conceptually? Hell freakin’ yeah, control fun. Draw step manipulation is really cool and I especially love the way that you ensures this card could net you some time to set up combat when you need it. I’m not sure about the defender, cost, or stats, but I want to still have this card see play for the hell of it. The flavor text is a little odd to me. Frankly, we all make way more than five choices before breakfast, that’s humanity. “Live five lifetimes” might be a little grander, perhaps? Or at least actually surprising. Stew on that.

~

@hypexion​ — Eater of Hours

I was going to say that the flying and ward should be on the same line, but you’re right, they’re actually on different lines on cards that care about that! Interesting. I mean, flying should come first, and the “You” in the third line is extraneous, but those are all minor nitpicks on this really cool, weird card. I think your flavor text this week is one of the strongest I’ve seen from you. Shame that the card looks a little packed in because of all the abilities, but that’s what it has to be to get it all in. Maybe a different ward cost could have expanded it—and these are, again, all presentation weirdnesses.

I wonder if there’s precedent for the second ability? Lemme look... It’s hard, and I don’t know if this is correct, but Wake the Dead and Najal, the Storm Runner might make that card say “You may cast sorcery spells as though they had flash during combat on your turn.” Whether or not that would be weird with contest eligibility is besides the point, because a strong beater with build-around craziness is...pretty cool! I hope your sorceries are strong, because you sure as heck aren’t playing the lands to get there. This set CANNOT have Pacifism effects, that’s for sure.

~

@reaperfromtheabyss​ — Battleblaze Belcher

I love temporary mana dorks, even though they are few and far between, and, well, the fact that most mana dorks are temporary in a format with sweepers... I’ve been playing too much Pioneer. Anyway. This card’s great! I think it does exactly what it says on the tin, it’s a strong body, and looking at the typing plus the name, I can imagine this either being a walking barrel/cannon-like card that’s spitting out mini-flames, or a monstrous Lorwyninan beast that’s barfing out things from every orifice. Mainly the mouth.

The thing is, that second trigger doesn’t actually reference the combat step. Geist of Saint Traft helps you there; the token is created, and then it’s “at end of combat.” Why would it be “the next combat” here? That’s potentially specific wording, but it doesn’t grok with me, and I feel that the specificities are a bit too weird. If it was EACH upkeep, well... Also, my compatriot, where is thine flavor text? This card neeeeeds it.

~

@snugz​ — Collective Stupor

Huh. Weird. This card’s pretty...weird, that’s where my brain stops. I think the inherent problem is that I never, ever want to have a rare sorcery that skips a single phase for four mana, no matter how much that phase means, because at that point I’m only trying not to die. To spend eight face-down cards I can never realistically get back in order to have them skip everything? I don’t foresee a situation in which this card would be played in either limited or constructed.

What could we do to fix this and make it stronger/weirder? My gut says to reduce the cost to 1UU and change the escalate to, say, exile the top two. Face-up or face-down, doesn’t matter. There’s some strategic elements that come into play when you do that that don’t feel as crazy. There’s the card Diminishing Returns that this reminds me of, at least in terms of how it feels to play. An odd controlly duck, this one. Very interesting name; I can envision the abstract art.

~

@squeezyboi — Dilema

Firstly: was this supposed to be Portuguese, or did you misspell “Dilemma?” I really tried to dig into it and I couldn’t find a secondary meaning. Anywhosits: neat little limited trick! I think that one-mana draw spells are good enough, and with the right kind of abilities, you can do some crazy stuff with them. Might even be a return to Inspired in the right shells. Why weren’t there more ways to untap creatures in BNG? Hmph. I would play this card for sure, though.

Hold that thought. I would play this card for sure with a couple tweaks. You know where we might get our wording? The freakin’ book promo Sewers of Estark. “Choose target creature. If you cast this spell during your precombat main phase, tap it. If you cast this spell during your postcombat main phase, untap it.” Or even just “If it’s your precombat” etc. etc. without the cast wording could work. As for the art, I love the creative art direction. I don’t think I can quite visualize it in a serious manner without going mmm shield tapenade, but it’s unique for sure. The flavor text reads well but doesn’t have the depth the art’s asking for. I’m not sure precisely what the dilemma is, really, because dilemmas are chosen by characters; are we making this choice? We’re already attacking, because that’s what Magic is about. Perhaps a different image might be more appropriate.

~ 

@wolkemesser​ — Agent of Aminatou

Take out the flavor text of this one and we have a weird, weird, weird card that I think is supremely cool. Now based on how turns are made, I believe that these abilities should read “After your first ~, there’s an additional ~,” but World at War’s been mentioned too many times here. This really is the kind of card that people want to build around, and I’m sure that upkeep stacking is going to be useful for someone.

Besides, a one-mana 1/2 flier is pretty darn cool, isn’t it! I also just really saw the creature type, and whoah, that’s messed up. Off the top of my head, I can’t think of a super-specific card that I’d want this in, but I want to use it regardless. Maybe it’s a time thing. I also feel that this card’s flavor text was made after you found art to fit the concept. This card doesn’t need flavor text. I can see how it works regardless, and honestly, I’m ignoring the art to focus on the coolness of the rest of the card.

~

@yd12k — Daf of Fleeting Dreams

I feel that we run into an inherent issue here with the way these phases are worded and the way you’re asking for this card to work. Daf wants you, clearly, to play land cards. Okay, so is this a land-based commander? Maybe, but what other cards do you play here? The upkeep trigger getting rid of your whole hand is... You know what, this card is simply weird, and there’s a deck to be made from it. It’s a graveyard deck, probably, and I’m sure someone will build around it, but who is this card for? Let me think of the best-case scenario. I’mma push aside the “issue” I mentioned earlier as I try to wrack my mind.

So: you’re playing a deck that wants to dump cards in the graveyard not related to lands, that’s okay with a more-or-less empty hand. I guess...Sultai dredge? But what does this add that Sultai Dredge doesn’t already have, what does it replace? In limited especially, this card is NOT playable, that’s for darn sure; Dredge is the only mechanic that I can see this card interacting with well. The cards that care about lands already have their draw engines without the downside of discarding your entire hand. If you can fully explain, please do so. I’ll read whenever I can.

Thank you all for your entries once again! New contest next turn. - @abelzumi​

[crimzoncrow]

ty for tagging me @mamawasatesttube !! <3

1. are you named after anyone? Not really! My middle name is my mom’s mom’s mom’s name (I think? Might be another generation back), but my first name isn’t for anyone.

2. when was the last time you cried? Almost exactly twenty four hours ago, I was having one of my bimonthly identity crises <3

3. do you have kids? Unless we’re counting friends barely younger than me who’ve declared me their mother, absolutely not lol

4. do you use sarcasm a lot? It depends on who I’m with! I guess not really? I use it a lot more when I’m upset about something or joking about something I don’t like I think, I just realized

5. what sports do you play/have you played? I used to play soccer, when I was little! Like, elementary school. I guess I also did gymnastics when I was even younger but it wasn’t sport-y gymnastics

6. what’s the first thing you notice about other people? Depends on how we first interact! Online it’s typically typing style, formality, and tone. Helps me figure out how I should respond, if I interact with them

7. what’s your eye color? Brown!

8. scary movies or happy endings? Happy endings!!! Scary movies give me really bad paranoia lol. Sometimes I can avoid it by pointing out mistakes or production details I notice, but then I’m not really… watching the scary movie as a scary movie anymore. I’m also just a sucker for a good happy ending!!!

9. any special talents? Hey look at how hard I can hyperfocus *crochets for 17 hours straight no breaks*. More seriously though, none that I really know of? I guess I’m kind of flexible but that’s more of a my joints really suck thing than a talent thing

10. where were you born? New Jersey, gotta keep up my mom’s family’s tradition of having some Jersey in them even if they were raised elsewhere (It’s like… kind of strange LOL. They’re literally all over the place but we’ve all got some tie to nj somehow?? I think I know one single person in the entirety of my moms family who wasn’t born in nj or spent the majority of their life there, and it’s bc their parent moved before they got them).

11. what are your hobbies? Drawing, writing, crochet (apparently?? that ones still kinda new to me even if it’s ,, been a few months lol), reading, uhhhh. I’m sure there’s more they come and go

12. do you have any pets? NO I WISH I DID im screaming and sobbing i cannot at the moment but as soon as i can i WILL

13. how tall are you? 5’ 4” ish? I thought I was just under 5’ 5” the second to last time I checked but last time I went to the doctor they said I was like 5’ 3.75” or something so it’s very confusing to me 😔😔 Most of the people I’ve spoken to think the 5’4” is most accurate tho

14. favorite subject? Uhh art? That feels like a copout lol. Overall, probably english? English, art, sciences in general… I can also like history? I don’t have anything against math either?? Most of the time whether or not I like a subject has more to do w whether I associate them w good or bad teachers I’ve had LOL

15. dream job? MAN i have NO IDEA . Ive been agonizing over this so bad . My current goal for career is just “something where I can do something I love and make things that make people happy”, probably in the arts, but you know that’s . Not really very specific lol. And also I’m just interested in other things too!!! If I were going to a different college there’s a super huge chance I’d be looking at stuff w/ linguistics more. Idk!! A job I like that’s stable and secure and also I can make enough money to do hobbies I like and spend time with friends!!! Whatever that is, if I can ever find it!!!!

i am so very terrible at tagging people so if someone sees this and wants to do it just say i tagged you <33 this was very fun!!

[tressasinterlude]

𝐑𝐀𝐍𝐓 #𝟑: Female Public Figures Dating Men with Questionable Views That Contradict Their Image & Alleged Politics

𝗗𝗜𝗦𝗖𝗟𝗔𝗜𝗠𝗘𝗥: These rant blog posts are really just reflective of my thoughts at the time that I make them and are posted here because I need an outlet to release all of this shit I have going on my busy ass mind. That’s it and that’s all. Now let’s get into it..

This rant was greatly inspired by none other than Ms. Robyn Rihanna “Tell Your Faves To Pull Up [in regards to social injustices directly affecting black people]” Fenty and her openly colorist boyfriend, A$AP Rocky. Aside from the fact that Rihanna tends to slip under the radar and is never held accountable for her problematic ways due to her conventional beauty (i.e. Her heavy usage of anti-Asian slurs, particularly targeted towards Chris Brown’s ex gf, Karrueche), it’s very alarming that a woman who has an entire makeup brand with a campaign based around the inclusivity of ALL black women is publicly flaunting a beau who once said that DSBW do not look good with red lipstick.

And yes, I’m very much aware that Rakim said this tasteless comment over 8 years ago but from the looks of it, not much has really changed with him. Don’t @ me about it neither because I don’t care.

Also peep how he compares a hypothetical darkskinned woman to a man (Wesley Snipes) while trying to explain how his antiblackness isn’t wrong because he said something about white women as well. Gaslighting at its finest. Don’t you just love it! 😀

Furthermore, you would think that somebody of Rihanna’s level of stature would know not to associate themselves with someone as messy as A$AP Rocky but... Stupid is what stupid does, I guess! I can’t even begin to place the blame on him anymore because he’s revealed his true colors and we all have made the deliberate choice to either accept it or don’t and have discontinued all support for him. Unfortunately, misogynoir is never the dealbreaker for most people and the hatred for [dark-skinned] black women is so engrained in society that it’s frowned upon when we publicly speak out against it. Very ass backwards if you ask me but that’s society for you. Now, enough about that. Let’s focus back on Ms. Vita La Coco.

As a woman who claims to be a girl’s girl and is always presenting herself to be someone who is the epitome of a pro-black feminist bad ass, it just makes her alleged activism come off so disingenuous when she’s also laying down with the same man that actively attacks the demographic she’s supposed to be standing in solidarity with. It’s “Black Lives Matter” on the IG posts but your vagina is getting moist for a man who openly stated he doesn’t relate to what goes on in Ferguson because he lives in Soho & Beverly Hills. Ferguson being the exact place where a 17-year-old black boy’s lifeless corpse laid on the hot concrete for FOUR hours after he was murdered by a police officer. He couldn’t 'relate' to the fate of so many black men, women, and children who are murdered or seriously injured from state-sanctioned violence because they’re poor and he is not or so he thought.

But then again, what can I really expect from a woman who identified as being “biracial” until as recent as roughly 6 years ago? What can I really expect from a woman who called Rachel Dolezal a ‘hero’ for cosplaying as a black woman? I’d be lying if I said my expectations for her were high in this regard because sis has always shown us she was lacking in this department. And just for the record, this is not a personal attack on Rihanna at all for the die-hard Navy stans in the back. I admire her latest fashions and bop my head to her music just like the next person but she’s getting the side-eye from me on this one.

Trust and believe me though, she’s not the only woman who I can call out for being a hypocrite. Of course not! This stone can be cast at a few others. So without further ado, why don’t we bring Ms. Kehlani Parrish to the front of the congregation? Prior to Kehlani’s recent declaration of identifying as a lesbian, her last public relationship with a man was with YG. Yes, the same YG who felt it was necessary to say him & Nipsey had ‘pretty light-skinned’ daughters to raise in the middle of his deceased friend’s memorial. By the way, Nipsey’s daughter is not even light (or at least not in my book anyways.) She’s a very deep caramel tone just like her father which makes what he said even more moronic. Yes, the same YG who thought it was clever idea to use slavery as an aesthetic for a music video to a diss track about 6ix9ine. And yes, also the same YG who has derogatory lyrics targeted at bisexual women. Just to end up sweating the red carpets with one. I swear the jokes just continue to write themselves.

This raises the question once more; How high of a pedestal can I really put a multiracial woman who has a song titled ‘N*ggas’ and when received backlash for the song in question, she used the ultimate ‘I’m mixed’ copout while not having a visibly black parent in sight?

It’s also kind of suspicious to me that many were not privy to Kehlani’s secret romance with Victoria Monét (pictured bottom right) until Victoria did an interview with Gay Times revealing she fell in love with a girl but they subsequently broke up because Victoria had a boyfriend and that girl was pregnant in a polyamorous relationship. Fans began to speculate because both Victoria & Kehlani previously candidly spoke about their sexual orientations, Kehlani had just had Adeya and they both were seemingly close. Their short-lived fling would later be confirmed when Victoria released the song ‘Touch Me’ on her last project and Kehlani hopped on the remix. Meanwhile, Kehlani’s relationship with Shaina (pictured bottom left) was very overt and all over her Instagram feed from my recollection. And as you can see, Shaina looks absolutely nothing like Victoria. They look like the complete opposite of eachother in every aspect which is kind of alarming(?) to say the least because why is it that the women she proudly claims as her partners tend to have a very racially ambiguous look such as herself but her ‘sneaky links’ on the other hand are undoubtedly black women? Again, it could just be me jumping conclusions. You know, I’m kinda good for that however something tells me I’m not. Y’all be the judge of the material though.

Last but not least, I’d like to touch on Ms. Raven Tracy very briefly. I was very weary about even including in this segment and if I should just put her in a entirely separate blog post with other women who openly date abusers despite their checkered past (alongside Nicki Minaj & her r*pist murderer of a husband, India Love & Sheck Wes etc.) being this particular blog post was based around the theme of lightskinned/mixed women dating men with extremely problematic views about DSBW. Raven obviously isn’t lightskinned or mixed however I refused to ignore how contradictory her [former] relationship with an alleged (I used this word very loosely and mainly for legality purposes.) serial r*pist while promoting a brand that is all about feminism & body positivity. This also traces back to A$AP Rocky by default being that Ian Connor is his very close friend and he came to Connor’s defense when several women came forward detailing accounts of Connor allegedly s*xually assaulting them. (I wish I could place the actual video of what A$AP Rocky said verbatim but Tumblr only allows one video per blog post. 🙄)

Back in June of this year, Ian & Raven had a back & forth on Twitter after Ian tweeted about Raven “fucking everybody” behind his back. I can only assume that he was alluding to Tori Brixx posting a video of her ex, Rich the Kid & Raven kissing on her story. Disgusted is not even the word to describe my feeling when she admitted she stuck by Ian despite of his many allegations of s*xual abuse because she loved him and her being a empath causes her to want to help everybody. Imagine aiding and abetting a predator and even paying for his bail & legal fees just to turn around and expect sympathy because this same individual cheated on you and exploited you all over Twitter for the public to see. The same man that you would get back with not even a WEEK after the fact & turn off your IG comments because it isn’t our “business” after making it our business...

That being said, I just genuinely want to know: Why do these women completely go against what they stand for in regards to these men? Maybe it was never genuine from jump street and if that’s the case, why jump on the bandwagon of performative activism? Is it because it’s profitable right now? Is it because disrespecting black women is not an immediate death sentence to your careers and more often than not actually helps you advance even further? I guess that’s the billion dollar question that’ll never truly be answered. I just want the world to stop using black women as their stepping stool to get to where they need to go and then discarding of us when we’re no longer beneficial. Support us all the way or don’t support us at all. We deal with enough disrespect as is so we’d appreciate if y’all would stop straddling the fence and partake in your misogynoir out loud if that’s what you choose to do. We have no use for fake allyship and quite frankly, it’s doing more harm for us than good. Please and thank you!

Sincerely,

- 𝙼𝙸𝚂𝚂 𝙴𝙳𝙶𝙰𝚁 𝙰𝙻𝙻𝙴𝙽 𝙷𝙾𝙴. 💋

[pebblysand]

OF CRYSTAL ROSES (EXTENDED AUTHOR’S NOTE OF CHAPTER VI. OF CASTLES)

-- TO READ THE CHAPTER ITSELF, SEE HERE ON AO3 --

well, well, well. here we are. spoiler alert, gryffindors make plans they don’t stick to, lolz. all the good intentions in the world, i had. study, i said i would. yet, here were find ourselves, eighteen thousand words later. this appears to be how i roll. slept about five hours last night, too, so apologies if i’m slightly non-sensical/rambly. this chapter ought to be sponsored by deliveroo and teapigs tea, a brand of tea that appeared in my local supermarket a few moths ago and that i steadily refused to buy because - can tea really be worth this much? low and behold, once you’ve tried it once, it appears to be addictive. i’ve, while writing this chapter, worked my way through about four packs of their different teas - they are just this good. i have a job interview tomorrow so wish me luck in gaining employment which will hopefully fund my expensive habits.

now, before we get into the nitty gritty of the chapter, itself, i just needed to say this: i cannot thank everyone enough for the incredible response on last chapter. i’d kind of grown accustomed to getting a couple of reviews for each of them and to writing in my little corner of the internet but boy, you guys are bloody legends! i am so overwhelmed with gratitude for everyone who commented, kudo-ed and generally gave love to this fic in general. i really didn’t expect such a response and it’s meant the world to me. i think it’s probably also the reason why i’m posting so early because i kept being like, god, i can’t leave this many people waiting in this cliffhanger hell. i think this chapter ends on a more positive note (although, i’ll let you judge), one that might be more conducive of a few weeks’ wait (more on that below), haha.

this being said, as i explained on here before, i come from very tiny fandoms where basically everyone knows each other and the number of people reading would usually fit in my flat. the fact that over 80 people are now subscribed to this fic just blows my fucking mind. you’re all magnificent and i love you. i try to respond to all the comments so let’s keep chatting if you feel like it (although, no pressure - comment if you want to, but do know that it makes me very happy when you do :)). you’re all fabulous and i wish you all the best!

anyway, spoilers for castles, chapter vi under the cut.

guys, guys, guys, i am so tired. i’ve spent four days editing almost 20,000 words and my brain is fried. but, we are officially at the halfway point of this story, yaaaay!!! my plan, at this point, is that we’ll have six chapters on each side but even if i do end up splitting this one later (more on this below) i’ll end up with seven chapters on each side so either way - yay to the end of act 1!

i think that’s also why i tried to turn this chapter around this quickly. to me, i always kind of saw this fic as having two parts. part 1: the immediate post-war aftermath with the heartache and the love-fast/burn-fast start to harry/ginny. part 2: a slow and actually healthy rebuild of their relationship, and of the world around them. i have genuinely been writing towards that last harry/ginny scene in this chapter for months. it feels like such a relief to finally have that weight off my shoulders. and i actually do think it’ll allow me to focus on study later. act one is finished, and act two can wait a bit, i suppose.

now, obviously, given that i already apologised last time, part of me still wants to apologise for the length of this chapter, even more so, actually. it sits at about 18,000 words which, by nanowrimo’s standards, is over a third of a full book, wtf. yet, you guys also said last time that you didn’t actually mind long chapters, so perhaps i shouldn’t beat myself up too much?

as i said in the a/n, this is a little bit of different set up than chapter v. though. i know exactly where to split this. as you’ve probably seen by now, there’s a very natural split point after harry has his breakdown on the couch with ginny, before Christmas properly "starts." the reason i didn’t split this one there, though is: a) selfish: i needed to get this out. stop working on it. i need to study. when it’s out, i’m not thinking about it anymore. it would have been a bit non sensical to split this just for the sake of it and post two chapters at once, which means i probably would have held onto the second part for another couple of weeks, and fuck that. additionally, b) you may not have noticed this but: the chapter titles rhyme. why did i bring this additional difficulty upon myself, i do not fucking know. especially because i will soon run out of one-word construction materials to draw from, lol. as a result, though, i need an even number of chapters to close out this story and because i’m sort of planning six chapters from now to the end (more on that below) i can’t really split this one right now. like, if i end up with another overlong chapter in the next few months, i probably will take that opportunity and go back and split this one, just for readability. but at this stage, at this stage, because i don’t know how many chapters i’ll have for act two (six or seven), i’m keeping this chapter like this for the time being. i kind of hope i end up with seven chapters on the other side and am able to split this one down the line, but we will see. in the meantime, my most sincere apologies to the folks who read fanfiction before bed and it’s now 4 am by the time you’ve finished this. i’ve been there before, believe me.

from a personal standpoint, though, i have to say, this chapter (compared to the last one) was incredibly easy to write. i think i’d spent so much time imagining and writing these scenes in my head as kind of a culminating point for the first half of the story, that it quite simply poured out. i did have a little bit of an everything is shit crisis yesterday and today, but sure look, that always happens. overall, i am quite happy - i think - with the end result.

now, when i say "easy to write" i mean, technically, easy to find words to write down what was in my head. i do not mean: easy to write on an emotional level. oh boy. i’m generally not a crier. i have been asked, a number of times, by people who said my writing made them cry: do you cry when you write, too? and my answer was always ‘no’. i don’t judge, but i’m just not that kind of person. i know people who cry every day but personally, we are in the middle of a pandemic, my father recently passed away, i’ve lost my job and am studying for an exam my life is pretty dependent upon, and i haven’t cried in months. yet, i swear, there were a couple of times, both writing this and editing it, when i had to step away from the screen because i could feel a lump in my throat. that had never happened to me before. i didn’t, like, bawl or anything but god i felt it. i don’t know if it’s because it’s my first time killing an oc, someone who was really mine but boy. giulia. i kept trying to find ways not to kill her, or apologising to her. to me, she’s tom’s last victim and that really, fucking hurts. if you’re hurting too, i don’t really know what to tell you. i’m sorry, i suppose. her death was needed for … plot purposes, lol. god, i’m the worst haha.

re:harry/ginny: i must say i really like where they end up, at the end of this. i had planned this to a certain extent. i was always under the impression that they would talk over christmas, but not get back together. however, the reason why they weren’t getting back together, in my head, was initially quite different. i initially didn’t have ginny dating someone else. i think i mentioned i was toying with the idea in the a/n for last chapter, but at the time i wasn’t truly sold on it. then, i ended up writing the scene i’d originally planned for them and it didn’t quite fit. what i’d planned, at the time, felt rather ooc for ginny when actually on paper. on the other hand, harry, under my fingertips, kept trying to kiss her and i kept hitting the delete button. i swear, i know it sounds weird to people who might not be writers but sometimes, your characters really do seem to have their own agendas. when i caved, let him kiss her, then the scene took on a different meaning, and, i hope, a better one. i think something clicked there and it feels like a good place for act one to end. obviously, they’ll get back together cause this follows cannon so you know, not much suspense there. it’s more about the how than the what, to me.

re:ginny’s letters: this idea came to me a while ago, actually. i was thinking that they’d need to talk about what happened last year, but i was kind of struggling on the how. having character a tell a story to character b is always a bit difficult, in writing, because it can quickly end up being boring. like, when ginny tells harry about christmas last year and lupin, in this chapter, telling that in dialogue is already rather long an laborious, and it’s overall such a short story. for harry, it’s easy. i’m in his head so he can just say ‘he told her about the hallows’ and the dialogue can be about their reaction, rather than the events itself. but ginny, she needs to share facts, as well as feelings. and doing that through long monologues just didn’t appeal. first, it’s quickly boring and second, it’s also kind of ooc. she’s not giulia, you see.

i did entertain the idea of completely skimming past it. ‘she told him about last year and he was horrified.’ - moving on. but, i don’t know, that didn’t feel quite right either, because i think they need to exchange, and talk, and that just felt like a copout. also, to be honest, it’s a very difficult story to tell. like, i’ve seen people in fics being like ‘so, harry sat down all of the weasleys and told them everything the trio did in seventh year,’ and i’m like that’s so difficult, though. sitting someone down and telling them all about your trauma, with little preamble, just setting it all out there, i can’t imagine ginny (or, frankly, most people) actually doing that, you know? we reveal bits of ourselves bit by bit, not all at once.

then, it hit me: she’s a writer, isn’t she? at least, she is canonically in first year, with not only the diary but also the poems, then writing for the prophet. obviously, the diary thing would have riled her up a bit but i do think in the end, she would probably have been like: no, i won’t let him take writing away from me, you know? so yeah, letters. daily letters. you won’t see all of them in next chapter, but probably quotes from the most important ones, things that harry reads. that’s where he gets his facts about her story last year, and then they can focus on their feelings about it. fab! something to look forward to, haha.

now, re: the future. as i said, we are entering act two. act two will gradually become more "fun" and fluffy, i suppose, but i won’t lie, we will be keeping the same happy/sad vibe that a lot of you have commented on with this fic. it exists for a reason (as i said, life is about sex, but it’s also about funerals). as i said before, this fic is, above all, an exploration of what ‘all was well’ actually means.

this being said, this isn’t an 8th year fic. there is a very specific future pov from which this fic is being narrated, and that’s in october 2027 (i know, precise). obviously i have 28 years to get through in act two so that will affect the way that the timeline is designed. it will obviously be more spread out, especially in the later chapters. this being said, while i have about a million of ideas for all the space in between and a very clear view of what the last chapter will be, the exact layout of each chapter is still slightly blurry. i haven’t sat down to put all my ideas in chronological order yet, as well as into some sort of chapter structure, which is also why i can’t really tell if it’ll be six or seven chapters in the end. all of this to say, there’s still quite a bit of work to be done.

this means that, as i said in the a/n, i don’t think you’ll get next chapter until at least, may. please don’t think that this means i’ll be abandoning this fic or anything, it’s just that i’ll be doing work you probably won’t see. i’m probably going to take the rest of march off writing to study (bar maybe a roar-series Harry&Hermione friendship one shot? maybe) then take april to plan and write as much of the next chapters i possibly can. ideally, by the end of april i can have a first draft of the whole thing. i desperately want to write as much as i can now that I’m jobless in the hopes that when i do find a job (again, interview tomorrow, pray for me), i can just have editing to do at the weekends. but we all know i relate to harry on a very deep level when he says ‘when have our plans ever worked, anyway?’ so we will see, haha.

anyway, these were all the thoughts off the top of my head, re: this chapter. if you have any questions or other things you’d like me to ramble about, feel free to send in questions, my ask box is always open. i know i probably think about this fic (and hp) way too much but i’m an extrovert and my hobbies used to include travelling, pints at the pub, dating and, well, there’s none of that anymore, is there, lol? the uk has stolen our vaccines (fucking brexit) so here’s to being obsessed with fictional worlds i wish i could live in for a while longer,

i will now go and endlessly refresh my email for reviews and kudos, like the attention seeking basic bitch i am haha.

have a fab evening, everyone!

[thebreakfastgenie]

Okay so here it is. I LOVE the kiss in the Cold. I think that is great. I think once that happened they probably should have just been together, but I can buy that they didn’t have time to deal with it during the election. But the whole way it’s orchestrated from Election Day on is strange. 

It feels like the writers were still trying to insert drama. Just let them be at that point! They sleep together in Election Day and Josh is like, immediately ready to start a relationship (he’s like insecure about whether he was romantic enough), and Donna is just blowing him off like let’s watch the news. That part is fine, because you know he wants to watch the news too and it’s like ok they’re compatible they’re both like this. 

But then after that there are multiple other occasions where he tries to indicate he wants a relationship and Donna just doesn’t engage. Like I know the point is to flip the roles and now he’s the one pining after her but he’s been pining after her for a while, and honestly I don’t think it puts Donna in the best light. She’s so detached it’s like “I already called a cab” what is that?? 

And then Donna gives him that four week deadline, which, okay, I guess. I have mixed feelings about that, but I can see it as just a way to make sure they don’t put off dealing with their relationship indefinitely because of work. But then when Josh says he won’t be able to make the deadline that just makes no sense. He has been indicating, albeit somewhat incompetently, since Election Day that he wants to be with her. And he has known he’s in love with her and wants a relationship since before that. He doesn’t need more time to figure that out. The only reason there’s any confusion about this is Donna just keeps having sex with him and then refusing to define it, which is hilarious, but it doesn’t fit with this storyline at all. They’re less intimate during this period than they were for most of the first four seasons. It’s weird and it’s not true to the characters. Josh is the one who initiated wanting to talk in the same episode, and when he says he doesn’t want to do it while jet lagged (reasonable!!) the implication seems to be that he wants to do it soon, and then suddenly it’s like oh I won’t be ready any time in the next four weeks. It doesn’t track. 

It also kind of feels like a copout that they go on vacation together and that solves everything. Like does Josh inviting her on vacation count as figuring out what they want from each other or am I to assume they had that conversation on vacation? Because the scene on the airplane seems pretty final. Whatever. It’s just weird. I’m mostly annoyed about the stuff I mentioned before. 

[welcometophu]

Not Your Guardian Angel: Chapter 12

Marked Book 3: Not Your Guardian Angel

Chapter 12

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Pels looks up The Dog Shack on Saturday morning, trying to find something about them online. She learns that they’re in Unity (which she knew) and she finds the phone number to call, but while there are plenty of reviews online, she can’t find a menu or a way to order.

So she presses the numbers and makes the call.

“Hello, this is The Dog Shack. How many dogs would you like and what name should the order be under?” a voice sings out cheerfully.

“Just how many and what name?” Pels asks. “There aren’t any options?”

“Ah, you’re a first timer.” She can hear the deep breath that the speaker takes before blurting out, “Our dogs are all mini dogs on a white-bread bun, which are made fresh three days a week. Each dog comes with cheese, meat sauce, and pickled onion, with optional ketchup and mustard. We don’t have any vegetarian options, and the cheese is a shredded Vermont sharp because our owner doesn’t like New York sharps and thinks cheese sauce is a copout unless it’s made fresh and we don’t have time for that. The wait time will be about fifteen minutes for us to prep your order, and we take cash, credit, or school dining dollars at the counter when you come to pick up. Your order will be packed in foil first, then a biodegradable cardboard carton which we hope you recycle. Each dog costs only $1.50, and you can get ten for $12.”

“Oh.” Pels has no idea how filling a mini dog could be, and at that price they seem like they must be small. “I’ll take… four? And do you have fries or anything?”

“Do you want your fries topped the same as your dogs?”

“Sure. Can I get ketchup on the side for both?” Pels has no idea what she’s doing, but it sounds good anyway, and in the end it sounds like maybe she’s getting breakfast and lunch both for under $10 total, which is a good thing.

Fifteen minutes later she’s waiting in line at the small shack, and ten minutes after that she’s already finding a spot in the stands to sit while teams from four different colleges warm up on the track below. She opens the first cardboard container and takes out a piping hot mini dog and takes a careful bite, meat sauce and cheese dripping back into the container below.

She burns the roof of her mouth, but she thinks it might be worth it, because it really does taste so damned good.

“Isn’t that your friend’s friend’s girlfriend?” Dad murmurs, nudging her shoulder to get her attention.

Where…? Oh. There, standing at the lowest level right below where Pels sits, looking up at her. Cass has her hair in a high ponytail and is wearing a denim jacket with embroidered flowers along the shoulders, her hands shoved into the pockets. She doesn’t seem ashamed to be caught staring.

Pels lifts one hand, then gestures to the seat Dad occupies since to Cass it should look empty.

Cass’s body language is a clear huff of “well, fine” before she climbs the stands and cautiously takes the seat next to Pels. “You’re Nate’s friend,” Cass says.

“One of them,” Pels agrees. She gets the feeling that Nate knows everyone but doesn’t have a lot of friends, which seems almost as sad as knowing no one and having few friends. Maybe even more sad. “And you’re Dax’s girlfriend.”

Cass makes a small noise and pointedly looks down at the track, where Nate and Dax are stretching side by side, talking.

“Not much of a talker, is she?” Dad says.

Pels takes another bite of hot dog. If she’s not talking, she might as well eat.

Two dogs disappear for breakfast, and by the time the first races are starting she’s working on the fries. She burps and is pretty sure she’ll be tasting cheesy meat sauce for the next several hours; thankfully it’s a good kind of taste.

“Hey there.” Shane slides onto the bench on her other side, Jess just beyond him. His cane clatters against the metal, and his hand brushes against Pels’s knee as he reaches for it to set it back within reach. “Did we miss anything?”

“It’s a track meet,” Cass says sharply. “We’ll be sitting around and waiting all day for five minutes of running that will be over before we blink.”

“If that’s how you feel about it, we can just text you when the race is coming up and you can go do something else if you’d rather,” Pels responds before she thinks about it.

Cass closes her mouth, lips pursed tightly.

Jess leans across Shane. “I told Shane that you’d been watching practices, and that you were going to cheer Nate on today. So we thought we’d come lend our voices.”

Cass huffs. “I know why I’ve been watching practice. What’s your reason? You know Nate’s not—”

“It’s peaceful.” Pels cuts her off before she can get into a full rant. “And why are you so angry about it? Nate’s my friend. It’s nice up here, and it isn’t crowded when they’re practicing. I like coming up here to sit in the sun and work.”

Shane leans in close on her other side, his knee and hip pressed against her. “Ignore her. She’s always cranky. Don’t let her drag you into whatever’s got up her ass.”

“I can hear you,” Cass snaps.

“Then try being nice,” Shane counters. “Or go sit somewhere else.”

It’s different from watching practice. When more people wedge into the bench, Jess moves to sit in front of Shane instead, leaning forward as she cups her hands around her mouth and calls out to cheer on a runner that Pels doesn’t recognize.

“Hey.” Shane nudges her again, his hand covering hers where it rests on her knee. “Is this okay?”

Um.

The loudspeaker goes off, but Pels doesn’t process the words, all too aware of Shane’s hand on hers, and the way his fingers dip to thread between hers.

“Nate and Dax are heading to line up.” Shane points as Jess calls out both names loudly. Nate waves back at them, while Dax just looks up, brow furrowed.

Pels waves back with her free hand because it seems like the right thing to do. Her other hand is too warm, and her stomach is doing little flip-flops like maybe the dogs and fries were a bad idea. She still has half of them left for later, sitting on the floor by her feet. Maybe she’ll offer them to someone else, if her stomach doesn’t improve. She can’t decide if this is bad or not.

“This one is the 1500,” Jess says. “It’s short for a long distance runner. I think they’ll be doing a 5k today, too. I don’t know if this meet has a 10k; those are a little more boring to watch, since it’s basically a half hour of running around the track. They’re usually the last event of the day, while everyone else is cleaning up.”

“Dax said he’s running the 1500 and 5k today,” Cass says tightly. “The 5k is mid-afternoon.”

Shane squeezes Pels’s hand. “They’re going to kill it,” he says.

Her hand is warm. Not overheated, not on fire, just comfortably warm. And her stomach is settling, slowly, although it still feels like butterflies might have taken root. Or maybe bees. Yes, bees, buzzing around but also building a honeycomb sweetness that spreads through her limbs.

Who knew holding hands could feel so… nice.

The loudspeaker burbles again, and the runners resolve into a single line across the track. Nate stands next to Dax, tall and lanky, bouncing on his toes as he shakes his arms. Most of the runners look like Nate—thin and rangy, some shorter than others. Dax has a heavier build, with a longer torso and shorter legs. He looks out of place on the field, both in build and in the way he stands quietly with no outward energy.

A sharp noise sounds, and the runners all crouch in position, and with a popping sound, they’re off.

They crowd together, and for a moment it’s hard to figure out who’s who. Pels sees a mass of jerseys and tries to pick out the white with gold and purple trim that are Nate and Dax. She holds her breath as they go down the long, straight length, and as they enter the first curve she realizes that they’ve moved from across the track into a small pack in the two inner lanes. She finally finds Dax in the middle of the pack, his curls just long enough to bounce with every step. Nate is second from the front, edging away from the pack, just behind the frontrunner dressed in red and blue.

For the first time, Pels notices Nate’s running shoes, which are a vivid gold, shining with every step, matching the stripes on his jersey.

“Go Nate! Go Dax!” Jess screams, her hands cupped around her mouth like a megaphone.

Pels realizes she’s gripping Shane tightly as the first minute passes and the first lap completes. She glances at him, and he only smiles and squeezes her fingers gently as if to say that it’s fine. She holds on tight and turns her attention back to the race.

The runner in red and blue keeps inching away from the pack, but Nate keeps up with him, staying just a step behind, so close that Pels is afraid they could trip over each other. She can see the way the runner at the lead glances back as if to see if Nate’s still there, and he always is. They move away from the main pack, and Dax moves up, sliding into the third position at the head of the middle group. Two of the runners are falling behind, the pack leaving them as they keep running through the second and third laps.

As the final lap begins, the pack has stretched out, and the results look clear cut. The runner in red and blue picks up the pace again, his face flushed, and Pels imagines she can see the stridor of his breath.

From behind, Dax puts on a burst of speed, moving into the second lane as he approaches Nate. But Nate must hear him coming, because he speeds up as well, passing the runner who was in first before Dax can. They both go flying by him as if he’s standing still, and Nate crosses the finish line just ahead of Dax. They fall on each other on the other side, holding each other up and patting each other’s backs as the crowd screams.

Cass exhales roughly.

“That’s our boys!” Jess shouts, her voice hoarse from yelling. “Go PHU!”

That was possibly the most intense three and a half minutes of Pels’s life. As the adrenalin fades, she realizes she’s still anchored with Shane’s hand around hers, and the liquid honey in her gut has warmed her all the way up to her eyeballs. She’s light-headed; as she slowly disengages and stands, she wavers until Dad props her upright.

Shane grabs his cane, bracing himself to rise as well. He reaches one hand for her shoulder. “You okay?”

“Yeah. Of course. I’m just going to—” Pels is blocked in with Shane on one side and Cass on the other. She stands carefully so she doesn’t step on the food she has resting at her feet, and she can’t go down because Jess is in front of them.

No one is sitting directly behind them, and Pels carefully climbs up to the next row in the stands. “I’m going to go pee,” she says bluntly, and heads for the stairs. She thinks there’s conversation behind her, but she doesn’t stick around to find out what it might be.

They’re sitting in her usual spot for watching practice, on the opposite side of the track from the building. She makes her way around the perimeter, and by the time she gets inside she’s breathing more evenly. “What even was that?” she grumbles.

“Were you flustered by holding hands, or by the race?” Dad grins when she glares at him. “Holding hands, then. That’s called attraction, Pels. Which you feel for Shane. Your soulmate.”

“I don’t like it.” It’s a lie, of course. That warm honey sensation was nice, just confusing. And overwhelming. Maybe she does like it, but she hates it at the same time, like something’s just slipped out of her control again.

Being on her own she can control. When it’s just her—well, and Dad—she knows what to expect. This is throwing in all kinds of variables and turning her life from simple addition into calculus. And unlike some people who are math majors, she really doesn’t enjoy calculus.

She pushes open the door of the bathroom and waits for a turn at the sink so she can wash her face and push at her hair as if she can do anything about the curls. She fingercombs them, taking them from windswept to just slightly messy, and pats everything back in place.

“Here.”

Cass stands to her left, a hair tie dangling from one fingertip. When Pels just looks at her, Cass pushes her hand closer. “Take it,” she orders. “Do something about that mop or when the wind kicks up again you’re going to lose an eye from it blowing all over. Or someone else will.” As soon as Pels cautiously takes the hair tie, Cass stands with her hands on her hips, head tilted as she looks her over critically. “Your hair is such an odd length. Do you style it?”

“It doesn’t really hold a style, so I just pick a length and run with it, and try to remember to keep it from getting too long. I’m lucky it doesn’t frizz.” It’s more like ringlets as long as she remembers to keep it from going wild. Many ringlets. Shorter ones for bangs and gradually longer down the side of her face. She can just barely pull it back into a ponytail, but it does keep the bulk of it away from her face, which isn’t a bad thing. “Thanks.”

“Hmph.” Cass tugs the scrunchy out of her own hair, running her fingers through it before braiding it quickly and tying it again. “You need all the help you can get.”

“Rude,” Dad says.

“You don’t need to take it out on me,” Pels tells her. The bathroom is less crowded now, so Pels turns to lean against the sink next to Cass, figuring if someone needs it, they’ll tell her to move. “I get it. You’re cranky.”

Cass pulls lip gloss out of her bag and leans closer to the mirror, pursing her lips before carefully putting it on. “You don’t know me, and I don’t know what you think about me—”

“You don’t like Dax doing track.”

Cass straightens quickly, hand falling as she looks at Pels. No, not looking—staring. Pels feels as if Cass is trying to look through her and see her squishy guts on the inside. Pels crosses her arms and glares back.

“I’m right,” Pels says.

“So what if you are?” Cass counters.

“You could talk about it.” Pels shrugs one shoulder. “I mean, I already know you’re angry, so it’s not like you’ll lose any points if you bitch about it. And you’ve already got acting like a complete bitch nailed so far, so.” She shrugs again. “Just go for it already.”

“I just don’t understand why he has to take up another sport,” Cass mutters under her breath. She puts away the lip gloss and pulls out mascara, touching up her lashes. “He’s so busy with football in the fall, and with everything going on—” She cuts off. “I just thought that maybe we’d get a break this spring. That we could spend more time together. And now he’s got practice every afternoon and he’s spending extra time working with Nate, and he hasn’t got any time left for me.”

“So you’re jealous,” Pels says quietly.

“You do understand human emotion,” Dad observes.

It’s always easier to see something from the outside, especially something like this. Besides. Being angry because something’s out of her control is a feeling that Pels is intimately familiar with, and it’s not difficult to recognize it in Cass.

“Dax is really good at it,” Pels says slowly. “I mean, he and Nate took first and second in that race and made it look easy. When they started passing that guy, he couldn’t keep up. There was nothing anyone else could do, and it looked like if he’d tried, Dax and Nate would’ve passed him anyway. Aren’t you proud of your boyfriend?”

“Hmph.” Cass tucks her mascara away and leans on the edge of the sink, looking down.

Pels isn’t sure if sad is better than angry.

“I thought you were all tiny, sharp angles.” Cass’s voice is sharp, but muted. “Where’s this sympathy coming from?”

“Oh, I suck at people, and yes, I know what it’s like to be angry all the time. Which means you are a person I suck a little less at getting because you might not be small, but you try to keep a barbed wire fence around yourself,” Pels shoots back. She smirks because Cass’s scowl means she’s got it right. “Besides. I like Nate. He’s not trying to steal your boyfriend. I don’t think he could if he tried. I mean. Would any guy who doesn’t love you to the moon and back put up with your shit?”

Dad laughs loud enough that Pels winces. “Now who’s being rude?” He sounds proud of her for it.

Cass huffs. “Whatever. I need a coffee. Come on.”

Somehow Pels ends up with a coffee in each hand while Cass carries two as well. When they make their way back to the bleachers, Cass shoves one of her cups towards Jess. “Here,” she says, before dropping a small bag of sugar, cream, and stirrers on the bench next to her.

Pels gives one of hers to Shane, then opens her cup enough to inhale. It’s a small cup, which isn’t nearly enough caffeine in her opinion, but it is warm on her hands. She cradles it, enjoying the warmth more than the taste for the moment.

Shane adds cream to his coffee, while Jess adds both sugar and cream. As Shane sits back, he leans closer to Pels, and she leans into his warmth before she thinks better of it. Shane shifts his coffee to the hand further from Pels, then lifts his arm.

“He’s offering to keep you warm,” Dad points out.

“Oh,” Pels exhales. She slides the few millimeters closer to Shane, his warmth heavy against her side as he drops his arm over her shoulder and somehow tucks her even closer.

It’s not awful.

It might even be good.

Jess is screaming at someone in purple and gold that Pels doesn’t recognize, standing up and punching the air when they finish the race in second place. Pels keeps close to Shane to avoid being touched, relaxing as Jess settles down again.

Jess somehow seems to know more people on the track team than any of them, and she keeps up a running commentary through the afternoon. She even manages to pull Cass into conversation, begrudging as it seems. Pels uses the time to just watch them all, and eventually eat the remains of her hot dogs and fries, which are still somehow good when cold.

By the time the final race comes up, and Nate and Dax line up for the 5k, Pels can almost ignore the fact that her butt is cold and a little numb from sitting too long. She knows there’s only fifteen minutes more to watch, and around the track most of the teams are already cleaning and packing gear.

As they start, there are more than twenty runners on the track, spread out across, bunching up as they all try and make it to the inner lane. Somehow Nate and Dax are in the middle of the pack. Pels clenches her hands together tightly to see them there, walled in by bodies all around them. But both Dax and Nate seem relaxed, running easily through the first lap.

It’s not an exciting race for most of it. There comes a point about halfway through where some of the pack fall behind, maybe a half dozen racers trailing the rest. Another lap, and a few more fall away, until only a handful remain in a tight group at the head.

One of the racers makes his move with three laps to go, pulling away and putting several paces between himself and the pack. Nate moves up as well, taking the space between him and the pack, and Pels can see the plan clearly after the earlier race. When the final lap begins, Nate starts pushing around the outside, forcing the runner in first to speed up. Dax comes out of the pack, stride lengthening just enough to keep him close to the frontrunners along with one other racer. By halfway through the lap, it’s obvious that unless someone else makes a move now, these four are vying for the top spots.

When they hit the straightaway, Dax somehow seems to go into overdrive, head down just a little as he pushes past both Nate and the other runner. Nate glances at him, and joins him, loping a half step behind him, leaving the others in the dust even as he’s losing ground when Dax somehow sprints through the final run. Dax slows after he crosses the line, and Nate catches up, and together they walk around the ring, Nate’s arm slung across Dax’s shoulder.

Pels joins her friends in jumping up and screaming, because that seems to be the right thing to do.

Cass grabs her phone and fires off a text. “Come on. They’ll meet us at Teas Please, because no one ever seems to have anywhere else to go.”

Dad bumps into Pels, and she stumbles forward, hands reaching out. For a moment she’s afraid she’s either going to fall into Jess or over the bench and crack her head open on the one below, then Shane’s arms wrap around her, pulling her back against him.

“You okay?” he murmurs, breath warm against her ear.

Pels’s cheeks heat up. “Yeah. I’m fine,” she says.

Jess bites her lip and turns away. There’s an uncomfortable twist in Pels’s gut, like she knows she’s done something wrong and it wasn’t even her fault.

“Sometimes I’m a klutz,” she says, which isn’t the whole truth, but isn’t a lie either. Cass wasn’t there for the guardian angel reveal, and Pels isn’t sure she’s ready to be that out to the school about her Talent yet. “Thanks for the save.”

“If I hadn’t, Jess would’ve,” Shane says. He grabs his cane, and Pels thinks he’s favoring his leg as he inches down the row to the stairs.

“And that’s my fault,” she mutters. “Good job, pushing people around until they get hurt.”

“If you’d just—”

“Stay out of it,” she hisses under her breath, cutting Dad off. “Don’t try to help.”

“Whatever it is you’re talking about, rest assured that I wasn’t trying to help,” Cass says idly. “But you’re in my way, so just keep moving and we can get out of here.” She gives Pels a little nudge.

They make it out of the bleachers without further mishap. The teams have somehow already managed to leave the field, and Cass is half focused on her phone and half on walking, giving small reports on the status of Nate and Dax as they move along. They have to cross campus entirely to get to Teas Please, and Nate and Dax manage to catch up with them before they do so.

Dax picks Cass up and kisses her, one hand in her hair and one on her ass as Cass wraps her legs around him to hold on. Pels can’t figure out how Cass could possibly be insecure in that relationship.

Nate, on the other hand, wears his heart on his sleeve when he watches the way Dax greets Cass. Despite the smile he pastes on as they walk into Teas Please, Pels can see that he’s still wistful.

God, when she actually looks, apparently she can see people being emotional. She blames this entirely on Dad. She can barely handle her own emotions; she really doesn’t want to have to deal with everyone else’s as well.

Speaking of… Pels twists and looks behind herself. Where the hell did Dad even go? Is she actually being let out on her own?

“I don’t have your table.” Serina looks up as soon as they enter, her brow furrowed. There are bags under her eyes, and she pauses long enough to yawn before she grabs a stack of menus. “How many—” She counts under her breath, then nods quickly. “Okay. Six. I’m sorry, I can’t get the booth, but we can pull a couple tables together in the front. It’s like everyone who was at your meet came in here all at once, and there’s a group from UAlbany at the big back table, and I just—”

“It’s okay.” Nate lays a hand on Serina’s shoulder and she just stops dead, shoulders slumping like a string’s been cut. “Hey,” he says softly. “Have you been sleeping?”

She shrugs one shoulder. “Sometimes. Maybe. Mostly. I don’t know. It’s weird. Everything’s weird, y’know? I’m just kind of tired and over everything, and it’s a bit much, and I just need Carolyn to come back and then everything will be okay. I think I failed a test this week.”

Everyone’s still missing. It’s been a week, and there’s been no sign of Nikita.

And Pels just somehow… forgot.

Not entirely. She’s seen Rory seeming lost without Alaric around, and Kit looking much the same. But it slips from her mind in the times between, not affecting her the same way it affects them.

She feels bad about that.

“They’ll be back,” Nate says firmly. “I’m sure of it. Carolyn would never leave you and Kit behind.”

“Besides,” Dax says. “Orson’s not settled. I can still feel his unfinished business.” He taps the side of his head. “Which means Alaric has to come back, or I’ll kill him myself, then yell at his ghost.”

“Honestly,” Cass mutters. “Can’t we have one meal without drama?”

“Hey.” Shane catches Pels’s hand. “Can we talk for a minute? Before we go in?”

They’re already in, crowded into the space around the podium at the front of the restaurant. But Pels nods and lets Shane tug her back outside, as the others go on to claim space inside Teas Please.

“I forgot,” she says with a low sigh. “Nikita’s missing, and I forgot.”

“Are you worried?” Shane asks, and when she nods, he keeps going, “then it’s fine. It’s like grieving. It doesn’t happen all the time, and you have to keep living your life, too. She’ll be back. They’ll be back.” He drops her hand and takes a step back, leaning on his cane. “I just wanted to ask you something.”

Pels glances to her right and left. Dad’s still suspiciously missing, and she doesn’t know why. Being on her own is unusual. “Okay,” she says slowly.

“You went out with Jess.” Shane leans back, letting the front wall of the restaurant take his weight. “And I’d like you to go out with me. Just us. On a date.”

“I feel like you guys are trying to woo me,” Pels grumbles. “Like you set up some kind of a plan to tag team to tame the wild thing—” She cuts off as his expression twists into something rueful. “You did. You totally did.”

“Maybe a little,” Shane admits. “Still. What do you think? I just—I feel like we should give this a chance.”

This.

She doesn’t look down at her wrist, but she knows the ink is there.

Dad’s nowhere around, but she can still hear his voice saying, “He’s right. Just give it a chance,” or maybe, “going out with Jess didn’t kill you, did it?”

It’s funny how he impacts her life without even being present.

She sighs heavily, crossing her arms. “Fine.”

“Fine?”

“Fine,” she repeats. “Okay. Yes. Fine. We’ll go on a date. That is not a group thing like this. You can even hold my hand since obviously touching you is not destroying my soul any more than it already has.”

“We don’t want to destroy your soul,” Shane says quietly. He carefully stands again, balanced with one hand on his cane and the other held out to Pels. She slips her hand in his and matches his pace as they walk in.

They may not want to destroy her soul, but they could. It’d be so easy, and Pels is so used to it. Every time she gets used to something it’s snatched away.

And this time Dad isn’t even here telling her that maybe it’s okay, that maybe this time everything will turn out just fine.

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[siriuslyblack12]

chapter 3

“Pete, mate, as much as I love you, this is genuinely the worst idea that anyone has ever had, and I fucking mean that.”

 The four marauders, most popular people in the school, doted upon and loved by almost everyone they crossed paths with, all attractive in their own ways, seemed to be at the lowest point they’d ever experienced: kneeling behind a bush onlooking Mary MacDonald and her friends. To any passing person, this would seem like incredibly creepy, perhaps even stalker behaviour. They would like to inform you that, no, that was not their intention, rather to do a good thing for their friend. Peter had been innocently crushing on Mary from the very first moment he’d seen her, and he was finally wanting to do something about it.

 When Peter had suggested ambushing her as she was outside for PE, something she was very passionate about, the other three had laughed, until realising that he was deadly serious. So there they were, clichéd binoculars in hand, watching as Mary ran laps around the freshly cut grass, waiting for their moment to strike. Her hair was in tight box braids, falling down to almost her elbows, moving from side to side with the effort.

 “How does she even do that? She must have ran around that about 15 times!” Peter squeaked, obviously impressed .

 “Just because you can’t do two without collapsing.” James laughed in a manner that Remus initially thought to be a little mean, but further inspection and Peter’s own smile showed the playful banter.

 “I’d like to see you try, Prongs.” Sirius jabbed.

 “Fuck off.”

 “Gladly, but unfortunately Wormy here requires our assistance.”

 Peter shifted uncomfortably from where he was sat, seeing that Mary had now stopped to chat with Dorcas, catching her breath. He hadn’t bothered to organise exactly what he was planning to do, thinking that he could wing it, but he was now having serious doubts.

 What exactly would he say to her?

 What if she rejected him?

 Suddenly feeling sick, he looked over to his friends who were snacking on chocolate, scrolling through unopened snapchats and talking to himself respectively, hoping for some sort of copout.

 “Alright, now’s your chance, just walk up to her and work your magic.” One of them said, Peter wasn’t paying enough attention to know which.

 “What exactly is my ‘magic’? Sounds gross.” He replied, hand fidgeting.

 “Awe, c’mon, you’ll be fine! Channel your inner… me.” Sirius stated, with a wink thrown in Remus’s direction, who then flushed the same colour as the berries on the bushes. Peter groaned, waiting for the floor to swallow him whole. Unfortunately for him, that didn’t happen, instead he was lifted and pushed right into Mary’s arms.

 Damn Sirius.

 His eyes raised to meet kind ones, dazed and confused, but kind. She placed her hands on Peter’s shoulders to steady herself, lingering there for longer than necessary and twisting her fingers in the material. Realising what she was doing she briskly cleared her throat and dislodged herself from the boy. They looked at each other for a moment, neither really knowing what to say or do, searching each other’s faces for a clue in.

 Dorcas called out, “Mary, coach needs us on the track. What’s going on?”

 “I’ll be right there, you go.” She said, before turning back to Peter with a flutter of her eyelashes. “Did you need anything?”

 Internally screamed internally, wanting to say it but not knowing how, his friends still watching him encouragingly. “No, no, never mind.” He stammered, immediately regretful. Mary’s eyes narrowed, but she smiled sweetly and walked in the other direction. She’s getting away. Do something..

 “Hey, um, Mary?” His hands heavy on the back of his neck as she hummed in acknowledgement. “You-, do you-, um,” It’s not that hard. “Do you want to, maybe, go out with me sometime? Only if you want to, you can pick the place and everything, I just thought-“

 “Of course I will, Pete.” She grinned, making him do the same, both grinning stupidly at each other until she jogged away to thread her arm into Dorcas’s, laughing as friends do.

 The three other boys stalked forward, shouting praise and clasping Peter on the back. Maybe he did have that magic that Sirius was talking about.

  ~~

  Remus observed quietly through the following days as Peter and Mary grew closer, spending almost all their time together. He thought they were rather cute together, hesitant touches and lovesick glances, though obviously in their ‘getting to know each other’ phase. He couldn’t help but feel jealous, not of them themselves but of the idea of it, just having that closeness with someone (that someone preferably being Sirius) was appealing. He was a hopeless romantic, though too afraid to admit it.

 He and the others sat at their lunch table, as per usual, eavesdropping on another group’s drama. It was ridiculous, but funny, and ridiculously funny. Tiffany had allegedly cheated, and was now being scolded by her boyfriend, whilst her other friends rallied around her; Remus felt as if he was overstepping some sort of boundary, but alas, it’s not as if he could help it. They were shouting over the noise of the entire canteen.

 “This sounds rich coming from you!” Tiffany shrieked, “You cheated on me a month ago with Nina Hudson, and I didn’t say a thing.”

 “What-, no I didn’t, that was just a rumour.” The boyfriend matched her volume.

 “You did so, she told me herself.” She turned her nose up proudly.

 “I didn’t! I swear on my life.”

 “You’re such a bad liar, you-, you-, shitbag.”

 James laughed loudly, cheering her on whereas Sirius looked disinterested, possibly sharing Remus’s own discomfort. He’d have guessed that he would have shared the same enthusiasm as James, the two being inseparable and frankly obnoxious when paired together, but that wasn’t the case.

 Lily spoke from Remus’s left, “I feel bad for them both, don’t you? Having their relationship so out there like that.” Ironic considering all James could talk about was the ocean blue of her eyes.

 “I don’t see the point.” Sirius said disconnectedly, “Why does there have to be so much fuss about it? Everyone pairing of, who’s fucking who.”

 Remus had taken a sip of water that he all but choked on when James replied, “Just because you’re not getting any.”

 The two bickered as they often did, the two practically being brothers. It had always baffled Remus how one moment they loved one another, and the next they were wrestling, punching, kicking as people said boys did. It was also confusing how Sirius could have such a strong sibling with one person and be so distant from his own brother. Remus couldn’t recall a single conversation the Black brothers had had, nor did Sirius like to talk about it.

 “Come to think of it, have you ever had a girlfriend?” James questioned, the table immediately silencing as he said it.

 Sirius stammered and blushed, “Well no, I’m… just looking for the right person, nothing wrong with that.”

 James looked at him, breaking the amused tone. “Excuses, excuses. How long will it be until you find this ‘right person’ exactly? Plenty of birds would kill for a date with you.”

 “I don’t know James!” Sirius snapped, rising and packing his bag. “I’m going to class, don’t wanna be late.”

 What’s going on? He’s never early.

 Maybe I could find out.

 “We best go too, Re. The library awaits.” Lily chorused, bringing him out of his thoughts. He threw one more look to a disgruntled Sirius, halfway across the room by now, before scuffling to follow the girl.

  ~~

  “What d’you think is up with him?”

 James and Remus were sat in Physics, test papers in front of them, the latter hard at work scribbling something or other when James whispered over to him. For the rest of the week the boy in question had been strangely distant from his friends, making excuses as to why he couldn’t hang out that were about as thin as a paper bag. A nerve had been struck, showing itself as he avoided the help of those around him. Remus felt sorry for him, desperate to piece together exactly what was going on.

 “I dunno,” He said, earning a glance from their professor. “Should we do something?”

 “I’m sure he’ll come around. He loves the drama, I guarantee he’ll be back to himself in no time.” Remus doubted this, but he trusted that James was his closest friend, and ultimately the person who knew him best; making him the most qualified for judgement.

 He trailed off, “I guess… it just sucks to see him like this, you know?”

 “Of course, I get that, but there’s not really much we can do. We can’t sit here and beat ourselves up about it.” James was always the mother hen.

 “There should be no need to talk during this test, thank you very much.” Their professor reminded flatly, finishing with a pointed look to the two boys. Remus waited until she turned her head back to laptop, typing away, before speaking again.

 “Has he seriously never had a girlfriend?” He asked, more out of his own interest than actual care, but no one had to know that. He’d only had 1 himself, one of those primary school girls who held hands with you once before breaking up with you over text. He was vaguely aware of the few that James had had, including a fling with Marlene before she’d realised her sexuality. Turns out one of the only girls James hadn’t dated was the one he wanted to the most.

 “Not that I know of, I think he’s just embarrassed.”

 “Are we talking about the same person here?” Remus asked sarcastically, hoping to amuse the other. It seemed to work well as James let out a laugh that was followed by another warning from the professor, this time more stern.

 “Do you think it’s about Regulus? Something might have happened there that he hasn’t told us about.” James said thoughtfully and seriously, looking behind him to see the very boy he’d just mentioned, pale face pressed almost right into the paper, bony fingers wrapped around a pen.

 “That’d make sense,” Remus responded. “There’s no way of actually knowing until he comes around though.”

 “I wish he’d just tell us, everything would be so much easier.”

 Remus thought about that for a moment, replaying it in his mind. Telling people what’s the matter could help.

 Maybe that’s advice I could take.

  ~~

  Remus alternated between pacing up and down the concrete of Lily’s driveway, and standing perfectly still to lower the rate of his heart. It was dark with the evening sun, but this simply couldn’t wait. His thoughts were far too loud in his head to wait any longer.

 He had to tell Lily.

 He had to tell Lily he was bi.

 The two had always been close, but as of late they’d been spending more and more time together. Bitching about their friends, helping each other study, and Remus felt like he was living a lie. His chest tightened with every word he spoke, and he simply couldn’t continue without confiding in her. It was eating him up, swallowing him whole, biting at his dignity and heart. He wasn’t exactly sure why he hadn’t already told her, putting it down to a combination of imperfect timing and chickening out last minute. He was now determined that he would. He had to be.

 Lily gazed out of the window to find him in one of his pacing staged, fingers nervously picking at a cut on his hand. She scrambled up before her sister could see what she was looking at and intervene, heading straight for the door.

 What the fuck is he doing here?

 Her fingers fumbled with the keys as she tried to unlock the door before anyone noticed what was wrong, which was becoming increasingly harder as she heard the screeching voice of her sister ring through the house. When she finally got the right key, shoving it into the lock and fumbling for a few more minutes to turn it the correct way, the door opened to a shaking and shivering Remus staring back at her.

 He blinked, throat closing up as he worked up the courage. Lily gave him a look, tried to convey ‘why the hell are you on my doorstep unannounced at 8 in the evening on a school night’ as best she could.

 He opened his mouth to speak and was startled as the words fell out of his mouth like a waterfall of emotion. “Lily, I’m bi.”

 “Cool, anything else?” She was surprised but it came out effortlessly smooth.

 Remus hesitated, “Wait, you’re okay with it?”

 Lily came out onto the step to meet him, closing the door behind her, and gestured for him to follow as she set off down the street. “Re, of course I’m okay with it. Dorcas and Marlene have been out for ages, there’s nothing to be worried about.”

 “I know, I know,” he said breathlessly. “But it’s different… I thought-, I’m a boy,”

 “How is that any different? I love them, and I love you, nothing’s changed.” Lily suggested gently. “Am I the first person you’ve told?”

 Remus looked down at his feet, carrying him weightlessly through the street. The tension had evaporated. “Yeah, you were the first person that came to mind, not that I wouldn’t have told you first anyway-“ He added quickly. “I just, I wasn’t planning on telling anyone, not right now anyway, but then James said some poetic shit about telling people what’s up and how it helps and… I don’t know. This is stupid.”

 She cut his rambling short, “It’s not stupid, god, none of this is stupid. I’m proud of you!”

 Remus finally eased into his words, “I never really realised it, never had that lightbulb moment where it all comes to you at once and you know exactly who you are. It was always just something in the back of my mind and I tried to ignore it but the more I did that the more it came forward and forced me to deal with it.” She hummed in acknowledgement. “For a long time I had no idea what was going on, you know?”

 Why? He remembered thinking. Why me?

 “But then, a couple of month ago, I saw people like me for the first time. They were always there, but I’d never really seen them. So I looked into it and got my shit together and stopped fucking… denying it.” Reflecting on his past self, it all seemed rather stupid. “I’m sorry for dropping all of this on you, you’ve got your own stuff to-“

 She cut him off once again. “You have nothing to be sorry for, Remus” She never calls me by my full name. “If anything I’m sorry that you had to go through all of that.”

 He looked at her, fully this time, and felt his heart pull. In his mind he’d known she was going to be okay with it, of course she would, but seeing it play out in front of him was emotional to say the least. He was so grateful to have her. The two continued to walk as another layer of friendship and love was shared between the two.

 She raised her eyebrows knowingly as she said “It’s Sirius, isn’t it?”

 “What-, what are you talking about? I don’t,” He spluttered, wondering if he was ready to tell her about that particular problem.

 She chuckled, “You’re about as obvious as a person carrying a sign that says ‘I’m in love with Sirius Black’. I’m not stupid.”

 “I never said-,” He sighed as she put a hand on his shoulder to prevent him from walking further. “Sirius is my friend.”

 “And Peter was Mary’s friend, and we all know how that turned out for them.”

 Were they really talking about this?

 Remus let out a low, wounded sound, “Lils-“

 “Not that you asked me, but I think you’d be really cute together.” Her smile was warm and inviting, but not warm enough to get burned. No going back now.

 “Fuck, Lils, I really like him. I think… I think I might love him. A little bit. Maybe.” He slumped his head onto her shoulder and groaned comically.

 She laughed, a real laugh, and petted his curls reassuringly. “I know, mate. It’ like I said, you’re not exactly the least obvious person in the world.”

 “What the hell am I supposed to do? He’s straight for fuck’s sake!”

 A smirk painted her face. “Just hold out hope, you never know what’s going to happen.”

 “Lilith Jane Evans is do you know something that I don’t?” Remus raised his voice.

 A laugh escaped from her lips as she pulled him into a hug, “You’ll have to wait and see, Remus Elizabeth Lupin.”

 “My middle name is not Elizabeth.”

 “And my name isn’t ‘Lilith’, I’m not that posh”

 ~~

 Sirius watched Regulus from over the feast in front of him, eyes trained on the way his fingers drummed lightly on the table. Everything looked to far too expensive to even touch, plates and glasses lined with gold embellishments and 5 different forks lined up next to them. He hated family dinners with every fibre of his being, especially when everyone was set on edge by news that Sirius had just shared.

 Regulus hated when his brother did that, gave himself a rebellious reputation that he would do anything to avoid. The boy was much thinner than Sirius, skin pale with an tint that was almost green, limbs longer and face flatter, with his hair cut short and curling around his forehead.

 “Why aren’t you eating, boy? Is this not good enough for you?” The cold voice of Mr Black tried.

 “I’m not hungry.” He said simply, voice devoid of the personality he would usually have an abundance of.

 His mother shook her head from wear she was sat, “is that any way to address your father?”

 Sirius shifted angrily in his seat, “I’m not hungry, sir.”

 This earned a shallow and cold smile from his mother, a stark contrast to the smiles he was used to from his friends throughout the day. “Now that wasn’t so hard, was it? I’d take a clue from you brother if I were you, at least he can get it right the first time round.”

 The table fell silent as Regulus sank down into his chair, hesitant to meet the eyes of anyone. “He’s only so willing because he’s scared, sir.” Sirius said with a bite. “Must be miserable, to have your own children afraid of you.”

 Mr Black stilled, the moment so tense he would be grateful for a pin drop. His fingers curled around the arms of his chair as he stood ever so slowly, towering over Sirius with anger boiling behind his eyes. The tension only grew as the man’s voice came out as quiet as a whisper, “As far as I’m concerned you are no child of mine.”

 He continued, voice rising with every syllable “You say you’re not hungry, then I suppose you wouldn’t mind if you didn’t finish this meal, or any meal for the rest of the weekend, eh? Would you be hungry?

 Regulus gasped, still desperate to keep his voice low and unheard as he squeaked his brother’s name.

 Sirius rose to his father’s level, voice wavering. “I’d rather starve then spend another minute in this hellhole.”

 “Then leave! Get the fuck out of my house!” Mr Black boomed.

 And so he did.

[mahou-furbies]

for the lets talk anime; ALL THE QUESTIONS

1. best anime you’ve watched

House of Five Leaves. It has so good character writing and the only flaw that it doesn't cover everything in the manga which is even better.

I'd also put House of Five Leaves as an answer for 4, 13 & 25, but I feel really weird talking about such a weird-looking unpopular anime on a blog like this so I'll pick a second favourite or something. But if you're one of the ten people who saw and liked it I'd love to chat about it!

4. least favorite character from your favorite anime

I remember really despising one of Ahiru's friends in Princess Tutu, I think it was the blonde haired one. I found her behaviour unbearably condescending rather than funny or charming. Though it's been like a decade since I saw it so who knows what I'd think of her now.

4. (was there two number fours?) best ending of an anime you’ve watched

Princess Tutu's was a fitting end to the story and had a really uplifting theme.

5. worst ending of an anime you’ve watched

Yuuki Yuuna is a Hero. It was such a copout!

6. favorite opening sequence

Attack on Titan OP1, or One Piece Brand New World.

7. top anime you plan to watch

I hope to manage to watch the Attack on Titan stuff that's out so far before the final season airs.

8. first anime you’ve ever watched

Excluding stuff that was presented as kids' cartoons rather than "anime" specifically, Angelic Layer. I think it was a good one to start with and I really should rewatch it!

9. lastest anime you’ve watched

Machikado Mazoku.

12. most underrated character

The Past Princess Precure in Go!Pri. I wish there was more art of them... I suppose I should try being the change I want. Though I just went to tagged/ and search/ for them and most of the content there was already me...

13. favorite one shot (1 season) anime

The Usagi Drop anime is such a cute feel-good series with a charming and soft art style. It's good that the story ended there and no further plot developments made it really stupid!

14. favorite completed (multi seasoned) anime

I have major problems with Yuuki Yuuna is a hero, but it wins just for the fact that I still have overall positive feelings towards it and its only competition here is Clannad which I definitely won't pick. It was really shocking how few multi season anime I've seen, but usually it's more like if I like the first season I just jump straight to the source material manga and never bother to go back to the anime when new seasons come out.

15. favorite on going series

The only ongoing series I'm currently "watching" is Star Twinkle Precure, but I'm still at episode 3 so I don't want to pick it as a favourite... (it turns out I can only watch only one Precure at a time and this year it has been Fresh). Or I do plan to watch all of Attack on Titan because I love the manga but I'm still at episode 2 of season 1, but since the final season hasn't come out does it count...?

16. anime you wish had another season

Definitely Magical Girl Raising Project, I'd love to see the rest of the story animated, but most importantly I wish there was more fandom activity for it.

17. anime that didn’t deserve more seasons but got them anyways

I have shows that I hate, but I don't think that means anything when it comes to whether they "deserve" to exist.

19. favorite hero

If we're talking superheroes, definitely Kotetsu from Tiger&Bunny. What a wonderful moe-oyaji.

22. any endings that you would rewrite

I don't really have problem with how Tiger&Bunny ended per se, but I thought the execution was kinda bad. Like the individual plot points were ok, but I felt the show just ran through them and left a slightly bitter taste in my mouth. So I wish it could have had some extra episodes to tell the same material.

23. characters that deserved better

The international Precure in HapiCha!

25. best relationship between characters in your favorite anime

The four main characters in Princess Tutu have such a well written web of unique relationships.

27. which anime universe would you like to live in/be a part of

Same answer as for (26).

30. favorite anime you’d recommend

Not a huge fan of broad questions like this, like what kind of stuff is this hypothetical person I'm recommending to enjoy? I think that suggesting that my favourite is so amazing that everyone regardless of taste should like is it the worst kind of shoving-your-preferences-down-other-people's-throat kind of fandom behaviour.

31. anime to stay away from

Well I hate DokiDoki Precure so...

32. most overrated anime in your opinion

I don't really like the term 'overrated' because it implies that there's something wrong with other people enjoying something I don't like and it sounds really smug and arrogant to me. Like I'm definitely not above feeling smug if a popular series I hate loses popularity or annoyed if a ship or character I despise keeps winning polls, but I try to keep in mind how much this is just my own problem and regulate my own online experience.

33. most underrated anime in your opinion

Can't really thing of anything else than House of Five Leaves here, I love it but it totally tanked.

34. anime you’re looking forward to

Attack on Titan final season. It covers the part of the manga that I've been following as it comes out so it feels more personal to me, and it's going to have the scenes that I'm most invested in.

36. least favorite animation style

The infantilising "high schoolers try to look cute in the same way toddlers are" moeblob style.

[themoonandotherslikeit]

The Hand That Reaches for God- Chapter 24

Warnings: Alluding to rape

Chapter Twenty-Four

“There I was, way off my ambitions, getting deeper in love every minute.” – F. Scott Fitzgerald

-40 Days After-

The cabin needed aired out in a serious way, so the sisters went through and opened all of the windows, coughing from the amount of dust that had settled. Ophelia and Sam intended to stay in a room together on the main floor, giving Emerson and Dean the entire upstairs to themselves. They were in a weird spot, straddling a line, and Em decided that it’d probably be best if they had separate spaces. They were just dating after  all. There was no immediate danger that required her to be protected into the night, but he still chose the room next to hers, just in case.

  “So, what do you think?” Pheli asked her sister as they shook out the blankets on the balcony off of Emerson’s room.

  “About what?”

  “I don’t know, all of it?”

  Emerson leaned up against the railing, staring out at the red-tinted lake. “I don’t know what to think. It all sucks, but this… this could be good. I just don’t feel like it can last.”

  “You don’t think we can live off the land?” Pheli teased.

  Emerson snorted at her sister, shaking her head. She pushed a blonde curl behind her ear and let out a sigh. “Everything is just so broken. I don’t know how playing house is going to possibly help.”

  Pheli took her sisters hand lacing their fingers. “Maybe, but I don’t think it’ll hurt either, and anything that doesn’t hurt can’t be bad.”

  Emerson pressed her lips together. She thought that it must be nice to be so sure. When she thought about the possibilities of the house and the life she could have inside of it, it all felt that much more terrifying. There was a possibility of being hurt, and that may be something that she wouldn’t be able to survive. “Maybe,” she said finally, because looking out at the stillness of the water, she wanted so desperately for it to be true.

“I think Sam and I are going to have some much needed one on one time tonight,” she said, batting her eyelashes. “So maybe this would be a good time for you and Dean to have that coveted first date.”

  “Stop, that’s not a thing,” she groaned, shooting daggers at her sister. She could feel her cheeks pink up at the concept, and her stomach flipped. The thought of being alone with Dean, truly alone, was still something that was too terrifying for her to really grasp, especially when she was still seeing Gordon in her nightmares.

  “It is, and Sam said that we have running water here, so I’d take advantage of a good hair wash if I were you.” Pheli poked her cheek and Emerson bit at her in response. “Hey Fido, relax.”

  “I don’t know how to do that,” she laughed dryly. “Relax? I don’t know her.”

  “Ha ha,” Pheli deadpanned. “Come on, talk to me. What’s going on?”

  “I just don’t understand how you can be so okay .”

  Pheli sighed and let go of her sister’s hand, turning her face out to the lake. She looked solemn, pensive, tired . “I’m not okay, but if this is our life then I want to live it. It may be the only one we have.”

  Emerson stroked a piece of her sister’s hair, biting her tongue to keep her emotions from erupting out of her. “I’m just afraid.”

  “Of what?”

  “The assault is still on my mind. Trusting is scary, but more than anything I just don’t think I can take losing someone else. I think it’d kill me.”

  Pheli brushed Emerson’s cheek with the back of her hand and offered her a small smile. “You’re so much stronger than you think you are, Em. You’d survive. You’ll always survive.”

  Ophelia hugged her tightly before taking the blankets back into the cabin, leaving Emerson feeling empty and utterly alone. Even though she knew that Phel meant it in a nice way, she felt cursed from her words, and as if she could see into the future, she could see herself standing on the end of the long dock down at the lake completely and hopelessly alone.

  She walked to her bed and pulled out her bag to take inventory of the things that she still had. Her clothes were all dirty, and her boots were worn down. They weren’t made for the physical activity that she’d put them through along with the rain the impossibly hot rain. She pulled out her notebook and held it against her chest. She spent so much time writing to Dean instead of talking to him, knowing that he would never write her back, or read a word of it. It was a copout.

  So she sat down on the musty mattress, letting her legs stretch out in front of her, feeling the cool breeze off the lake come in through her open French doors. She picked her pen up and clicked it a few times before opening her notebook and pressing the pen to the page.

  Dear Dean ,

  ****

  Dean knew that he missed showers. When he was in Afghanistan there’d be periods where he was solely taking a whores bath with a wet cloth and a bucket, so the days that he had any kind of water pressure it was a gift. So even though he stood under the weak, cool water in the cabin, he couldn’t complain. It felt so fucking good to get clean.

  He scrubbed his skin with the bar soap, not even bothering to ignore the burns along his skin that caused him to sting and burn. It almost felt good. It reminded him that he was alive. He stood under the water watching the water around his feet turn from brown, and red to clear. He ran his fingers through his hair letting out a sigh into the water.

  They were safe, temporarily or not. He thought about letting himself finally cry, let it all fucking go into the water, but then he thought about her , Emerson Maklen. She was there, down the hall, and she wanted to be with him. He felt a smile tug at the corner of his mouth, because they were safe   and there was no more reasons for them to not just fucking be together.

  He laughed with an exhale, shaking his head. The past didn’t matter, not anymore, the only thing that mattered was right there in that moment. He reached down and turned off the knob, feeling the last droplets of water run down his nose. He grabbed the towel that he set out and quickly dried his hair, face, and chest, before wrapping it around his waist.

  He poked his head out into the hallway and when he could determine that it was clear he waltzed to his room. Her bedroom door was shut, he noticed, and he had to admit that he was a little disappointed. He knew that things would be slow, but that didn’t mean that he wasn’t curious about her, and he was dying to know if she was curious about him, too.  

  Dean pushed into his bedroom, ready to drop his towel and take a nap, when he almost jumped right out of his skin. There was a blonde woman on his bed, and although she resembled Emerson, it was not the Maklen sister that he was hoping to find waiting for him. “Jesus Christ, Ophelia.”

  “Get your hand off your towel, Winchester. We don’t want any accidents,” she said, averting her gaze.

  Dean rolled his eyes and made sure the towel was secure before crossing his arms. “Why are you in my room?”

  “Sam and I are having a date night tonight.”

  “Good for you?”

  “I think this would be a good opportunity for you to have some one on one time with my sister.”

  He looked at her, scanning her face, trying to detect what game she was playing. She seemed genuine. “What are you getting at?”

  Pheli groaned quietly, standing up. “Listen, Dean. We are all wound up a little tightly, you know? Things aren’t exactly rainbows and unicorns right now, and I think she needs some fun. You’ve always been good at that.”

  He winced; feeling like that comment was a little back-handed. His eyes met hers and he let out the breath he was holding. “I don’t want to push her. Not after everything she’s been through.”

  “Dean,” Pheli said gently, walking to him. “I’m not going to touch you, since you’re basically naked.” Her eyes flickered from his waist back up to his eyes. “But listen to me anyway.”

  He focused on her face, noticing the small differences between her and Emerson. They were the same, but yet so completely different. He nodded, to let her know that he was paying attention.

  “I know that you love her.”

  He opened his mouth to speak, to disagree, to protest? He wasn’t sure.

  “Stop,” she said, holding up her finger to silence him. “Whatever it is, I don’t need to hear it. I know you love her. I can see it, hell; I can feel it when you’re around her. You always have, and I think that’s amazing. She deserves to have someone love her, especially after everything she’s been through. She always has to be so strong, and it’s her turn to lean on someone else. Don’t you think?”

  Dean could hear his heartbeat in his years, thrumming angrily at the accusation. He’d never said that out loud, he’d never said it to himself, but yet Ophelia said it like it was something so obvious, so true . It almost knocked the breath out of his body, and he resisted the urge to close his eyes and pass out.

  It wasn’t like it was a surprise, really, because he knew his fate the night that he danced with Emerson. Holding her closely, even that young, he could see his whole damn future laid out in front of him. He just never allowed himself to want it, not really, or at least not outwardly. Why waste time wanting something that you can never have? The question still lingered in the back of his mind as he stared down at Ophelia; because all she did was state what she saw him feel. He still had no idea how Emerson felt.

  “Yeah,” he said finally. “Yeah I do.”

  “Then just do something with her tonight. Make her smile. That’s all I’m asking for.” Pheli smiled at him, pushing her hair behind her ears. “Now get dressed,” she added, awkwardly. “I’m going to go check on Sam.”

  Dean watched her go and pressed the door shut behind him. The word love spun around inside of his head like a tornado. He felt like, now that it was said out loud, that it would be almost impossible for him to hold it inside of himself. He sat on the bed and put his face in his hands.

  Lisa was dead. Ben was dead. Cas was dead. His mom was probably dead. Charlie was dead. How could he be a support for Em when he could barely support himself? How could he be there for her when everyone he tries to be there for dies…?

  It was the same thought, the same doubt that’d been creeping into his mind his entire life. You’re not good enough . The sound of his father, you’re no son of mine .

  But ultimately he knew the truth. They were just words. It didn’t matter if he was good enough, or if he deserved her, because if she wanted him there, that’s where he would be. He was selfish, and she made him want to be a better man. The least he could do was plan something nice for her, for them .

  Later that night

  Three taps against the glass of the French doors leading out to the balcony was all it took to pull Emerson out of her sleep. She didn’t realize when she’d stopped writing, her notebook resting on her chest. She squinted into the sunset that bled into her window, catching Dean’s outline. He leaned against the doorframe. “Hey, Maklen.”

  “Dean?” She croaked her throat dry from sleep. She didn’t remember the last time that she’d fallen asleep by mistake. She hadn’t felt safe enough to in months.

  “Sorry for waking you.”

  She sat up slowly rubbing her eyes, her eyes adjusting. He looked handsome, he was smiling, wearing a plain t-shirt with a flannel over it, and his fingers held a single flower. “Is everything okay?”

  He nodded. “It’s good. Do you wanna go for a walk with me?”

  She blinked a few times, wondering if she should pinch herself. It felt good, a little too good. She didn’t trust it. “What’s that?” She gestured to the flower, scooting to the end of the bed.

  “Oh,” he said, peeling his eyes away from her and to the flower in his hand. “It was growing outside. I saw it and… I don’t know, it was pretty, and it reminded me of you.” He held it out to her.

  She reached out, standing up, and took it from him. It looked like a rose, or something that used to be a rose. The stem was long and a deep red, the stem seemed to curl up and around the head of the rose. The petals seemed to glisten in the light of the setting sun. She pressed the rose to her nose, breathing it in. there was something sweet about it, intoxicating like a red wine. She could see him, in her mind’s eye, standing at the bottom of her staircase with a cigarette in his teeth holding a red rose. She didn’t want to want him, but she went to homecoming with him anyway. She didn’t know why she always drug her feet with him when she knew that no matter what he asked her the answer would always be yes.

  “Where are we walking?”

  “Trust me?” He asked, reaching his hand out to her, palm up.

  Emerson examined his palm for a moment, the lines on it, and the safety that he was offering. Her eyes flickered back to the notebook on her bed, and she sucked in her breath, placing her hand in his.

  His fingers curled around hers protectively, and he gave this wide grin like he was really proud of himself, and as much as Emerson wanted to be annoyed, she slid her fingers into his, locking them together. She was too damn rested, and the scent of the rose was still stuck in her nose, so she couldn’t bring herself to be annoyed.

  They snuck out of the house through the side door, trying not to disturb Sam and Pheli. The night was cool for mid-August, the first taste of autumn on the horizon. They walked down a stone path in comfortable silence, their joined hands swinging between them. There were things between them, buzzing, but they’d never spoken about them up until that point.

  “It’s a nice night,” Dean said awkwardly.

  They were making their way to the lake as the sun was replaced by the moon high in the sky. Emerson took a step onto the dock, feeling the gentle bob of it on the water. It felt peaceful, quiet, and hopeful for once since everything had happened. “It actually is,” she agreed, squeezing his hand. Ever since her attack, the quiet felt like something dangerous, like it was something that was a risk, something that she couldn’t trust, but that moment on the dock with Dean felt like something different altogether. “Thank you.”

  “For what?”

  “For bringing us here.” Emerson turned to look at him, stopping at the end of the dock. “I slept today, and I have no idea when my last good night of sleep was. I have no idea.”

  Dean reached forward, pushing a hair behind her ear, his fingers lingering against her cheek. “I’m glad. You deserve some rest.”

  “So do you.”

  “I think we all do. Shit has been so hard. Felt like it’d never let up.”

  “I’m still not sure it has.” She glanced down at their joined hands. “I just feel like there was never a right time for us, and now... it still isn’t the right time, not with the world collapsing and me being... well pretty fucking broken.” She swallowed hard, closing her eyes to stop the stinging behind them. “But this may be all that we have. It may be our only chance... it may...”

  And then Emerson was being kissed. His lips were warm, a gentle brush, with his finger under her chin tilting it up. She sighed into his lips, a tear rolling down her cheek. She pulled up their joined hands, pressing them to her chest above her heart as if it would leap out of her chest and take a nose dive into the red-tinted water.

  “You still want me?” He asked her breathlessly, his forehead against hers.

  She opened her mouth to form a word, any word, but instead she just nodded. Yes . Who was she fucking kidding? It was always Dean.

  “Good,” he murmured, and she thought that he would kiss her again, but he didn’t. Dean Winchester wrapped his arms around her, pulling her close. He buried his face in her hair, inhaling deeply, his lips puckering against her scalp. His fingers petted through her tangled curls, as she pressed her face to the crook of his neck, even though it required her to stand on her tip-toes.

  He smelled like pine and mint and for a moment she thought that she may cry, that she may fucking lose it right there in his arms, because he felt like home. Everything had felt so harmful and dangerous for months, but in that moment she wasn’t afraid she was just with him. It could’ve been just her and Dean in the world and that may have been okay. For just a second, for a breath, she thought that maybe it could be enough. Maybe they could be enough.

  She could feel his face turn back up, and he sucked in his breath, the rush of air against her hair. His grip loosened on her as quickly as he’d taken her against him, but he didn’t stop holding onto her. He took her and gently spun her around so she was facing the lake. “Look,” he whispered.

  Her eyes adjusted to the dark lake to find that the sky had been dumped out onto the lake. It looked like God had taken the stars, put them in a jar, and shook them out over the water. Hundreds of fireflies danced over the water, blinking. The sky, moon, and blinking lights reflected in the glassy lake water. It felt like they were between worlds.

  Emerson reached out her hand and quickly pulled it back into herself as the white lights on the fireflies blinked out and back on in an array of colors. The stars changed to Christmas lights. Dean ran his fingers down her arm and wrapped his finders around her hand, extending their hands back out. “It’s okay,” he whispered.

  He turned her palm so it was laying flat toward the sky, out past the edge of the dock. Her eyes had adjusted to the darkness, to the glow of the bugs in front of her. She found herself holding her breath, her chest aching, as one of the glowing balls floated closer to her, pulsing in fantastic shades of blues and pinks. As it landed on her fingertip she saw that it wasn’t a firefly at all, it was a butterfly. It seemed to settle on her fingertip, and she pulled it up closer to examine it.

  The patterns in its wings swirled and glowed. It all felt like such a small canvas to hold something so magical, and she suddenly had the extreme urge to cry. She let out the breath she’d been holding, out in a shaking hard exhale. The butterfly took the hint, letting the breath send it back out toward the water. She grabbed for it instinctively, but watched as it barely missed her fingers.

  Her fingers moved back to her lips, brushing them gently in complete awe. They hadn’t had the chance, up until that moment, to see anything positive from the explosion. It was all darkness, blood, pain... but this was something else altogether. It felt like hope. Emerson turned to look at him, to thank him for bringing her, to see if he knew about the butterflies, but when she saw his face she stopped. She looked up at him, his features illuminated from the hundreds of dancing colored lights. She could see herself in his eyes, and he was looking at her like she had an answer to his greatest question. His lips were parted, his eyes wide, like someone who is trying desperately to keep themselves from something that they want. He looked fucking beautiful. More than anything, though, he was looking at her like how Sam looks at Ophelia. He was looking at her like he loved her.

  She reached her hand up and brushed his cheekbone, before settling her palm against the back of his head. She stood on her toes and pressed her lips to his. It was slow, solid, and she ran her tongue along his bottom lip, eliciting a deep groan from inside of him. She kissed along his rough jaw and to his ear. “Dean, take me upstairs.”

  Dean pulled back from her and took her face in his hands. “Are you sure?”

  She nodded slowly. “I want to be with you.”

  He examined her face for a moment before reaching down and scooping her up bridal style, capturing his lips in hers. He only pulled his mouth away from hers to get the door and his footing on the stairs, no longer seeming to care if Pheli and Sam were disturbed. They weren’t the only one who deserved a night. He pushed her door open with a creak and lowered her to her feet, his hands moving back to her cheeks, stroking her cheekbones, then her jaw, neck, shoulders.

  Deans fingers were gentle, tickling against her ribcage as his hands settled at her hips. He kissed her again, and she could feel her heart pounding in her chest. “Wait,” she whispered against his kiss.

  He pulled back and looked down at her. Emerson backed away from him, letting his hands fall, and she shrugged off her flannel. Her fingers trembled as she took the hem of her tank top in her hands and rolled it over her head. Dean sucked in his breath, looking flushed, his eyes scanning her face, moving along her bare skin, but he didn’t move any closer.

  Emerson felt her cheeks heating up so she gestured lamely to his shirt and gave him a nod. “Your turn.”

  “Right,” he said with a breathless laugh, shrugging out of his own flannel before pulling his t-shirt off.

  She’d seen him shirtless before, but she’d forgotten. He looked strong, and even amongst the scars from his accident, and the current scars that were healing, he still had perfect skin that was adorned with freckles. The skin on his chest was pulled tight over the  softening muscles from his military days. She reached forward, brushing her fingers over the necklace that still hung on a chain around his neck. Next to his dog tags from serving hung the necklace that Sam gave him when they were kids. He still wore it. Dean Winchester was loyal. Looking at him, she knew suddenly that she always loved him, and she always would.

  His hands found her hips again and slowly lowered her to a seated position on the edge of the bed. He knelt in front of her, placing a kiss on her leg before taking her foot in his hands. He carefully unlaced her boot, drawing out each movement, taking care. He placed the boot to the side and took off the other.

  She spent so much time thinking that he was bad, dangerous, the wrong choice, but she never imagined this. The care that he took, the glances of permission, somehow it was so much more painful than the alternative.

  He moved back up to a standing position, now just crouching over her to place a kiss on her lips. She could feel him working his way out of his own boots as his lips pressed against hers with a newfound pressure. It was needy and warm. It was a thousand glowing butterflies over a glass top lake. It was hope.

  But even as she felt the warmth as his tongue brushed hers, her heart beat angrily like a drum on the battlefield. His fingers ran down her spine, hovering at the clasp on her bra, and her breath hitched in her throat. She felt herself freeze in his arms like a statue, the hair on the back of her neck standing straight up.

  “Emerson?” Dean asked quietly, pulling back from the kiss. His eyes bore into hers. “Hey,” he said softly, touching her chin. “Talk me to me.”

  She swallowed hard, trying to choke back everything that was threatening to spill out of her, but it wasn’t that easy, it never could be that easy. Even though she didn’t want to, and even though it was impossibly hard, she looked at him.

  “You’re not ready,” Dean commented. “That’s it, right?”

  She didn’t want it to be, but she nodded. “I thought I was... I want... I just don’t think I can... I’m sorry, Dean... I’m so...”

  “Hey, you don’t have to explain it. I don’t want to do this if you aren’t ready.”

  “Really? Are you sure?”

  He ran his thumb along her jaw. “This isn’t about sex. It’s so much more than that, Em. I’ll wait as long as you need.”

  Emerson felt a rush of emotion, and as he leaned down to pick up his shirt she stopped him. “Maybe we can just... sleep?”

  He glanced at her fingers on his bicep and smiled at her. “I’d like that.”

  She wiggled out of her jeans and picked up his t-shirt, sliding it over her head. She smiled at him, before climbing into bed. She’d been undressed in front of him before, and she knew that he was respectful and kind.

  The bed groaned under his weight as he got under the blankets next to her, but he didn’t touch her. She rolled onto her side to look at him. They were both facing each other, close enough to lean forward and press their lips together, but they stayed where they were. “I’m sorry,” he whispered.

  “For what? You’re being really understanding...”

  “Because I didn’t protect you from him.” His voice was pained, and she caught his eyes welling up even in the darkness. “I won’t make that same mistake twice. You’re safe now, Em. No matter what it takes, I will keep you safe.”

  She didn’t know what to say, so she buried her head in his bare chest, breathing him in, and listening to the steady beat of his heart, trying with all that she had to believe him.

—————

Chapter Twenty-Five

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[welllpthisishappening]

The Baby Was Fussy

I have no excuse for this. I have no idea what this even is. But I had so many questions. And so I wrote the answers myself. Canon is not my usual jam, but...nope, still no excuse. I’ll retreat back to hockey as soon as possible. 

Killian thinks it’s colic.

Well, no, that’s a lie. Killian is positive it’s colic, because Killian has read every book about babies and then a few more about only-recently born babies and...the word for that is infant.

God, Emma is so tired.

It’s definitely colic.

There’s been more crying in their house in the last forty-eight hours than should ever exist in one space ever, and Emma swears she can feel the bags growing underneath her eyes, but it’s not the bone-deep exhaustion she’s used to from saving Storybrooke or fighting monsters or even realm hopping.

They don’t have to do that anymore, after all.

It’s the kind of exhaustion that just kind of wraps around her and feels a bit like a blanket and a little warm, like she’s been covered in feelings and emotions and she’s clearly become a giant sap at some point, but Emma has, somehow, smiled more in the last forty-eight hours than she ever once thought possible.

So...by comparison.

It’s definitely colic and it’s not really that bad and they’re absolutely going to be late.

“Swan,” Killian calls from the other end of the hall and she can hear Hope fussing because, at some point, that’s become their theme song.

The website claims colic doesn’t last forever.

Emma is not convinced.

There are footsteps moving towards her, but Emma keeps her eyes trained on the mirror in front of her, trying to convince herself that curling her hair is a good idea. And won’t end with a tiny fist gripping the strands.

“Swan,” Killian repeats like she didn’t hear him, and the floor creaks when he moves into the room. The whole house seems to creak, constantly, no matter where they step or what they touch, and that’s kind of nice too because it feels lived in and theirs and they’ve mapped out every single inch of it, padding out tiny semi-circles in attempts to get Hope to sleep.

That’s worked about as well as this curling iron.

She nearly burns her right ear when she does, finally, glance up.

Emma knows her mouth drops open slightly, breath rushing out of her in a quick huff, and maybe her eyes widen too – just to complete the perfect look of surprise and several other words that are hardly appropriate in front of their infant daughter.

She remembered the word that time.

“Everything alright, love?” Killian asks, but it’s clear he’s not expecting an answer and she briefly considers if she can arrest her co-law enforcement for whatever the hell he’s doing with his eyebrows.

“Aye,” she mutters in a pale imitation of his voice and it gets the laugh out of him she was hoping for.

Emma presses her lips together, careful not to burn her ear – because, honestly, if they go see Doctor Whale again or set foot in one more doctor’s office she may actually scream. And they’re going to be so late.

Killian hums, stepping into her space and Emma doesn’t even try to stop herself from leaning against his chest. It takes some finangling and shifting and she’s not sure what noise she lets out when she notices that pink, plastic monstrosity Ruby bought them as a gift at the end of his hook, but she’s smiling again and Hope is actually not crying.

Emma is not going to question whatever miracle it is.

“You’re not dressed yet,” Killian points out, and Emma’s laugh turns into a sigh. She wriinkles her nose, glancing at their reflection in the mirror, and, she swears, her mouth goes dry.

There was never really a discussion about keeping it. It just kind of...hung in the back corner of the closet and, maybe, did something ridiculous to her pulse every time she saw it hanging in between button-up shirts with slightly absurd floral patterns and leather jackets and the few actual gowns in their combined space because that’s the kind of life Emma lives now.

But there was also no actual, specific discussion about Killian wearing full scale pirate regalia to a royal coronation in a different realm that they can drive to now.

Her life is very weird.

Her life is fantastic.

“And you’re incredibly dressed,” Emma counters, smile tugging at the corners of her mouth and she laughs again when she notices the tips of Killian’s ears go red.

He narrows his eyes, pressing his tongue to the corner of his lips, and Emma has to dig her heels into the floor to stop herself from turning around. The collar of his jacket is popped slightly, which Emma has a fairly strong suspicion is also to avoid it being tugged on by tiny, little hands, and Hope is already clearly fascinated with the charms around his neck.

“Ah, yes,” he mutters. “There was an...incident. While you were in the shower.” “An incident?” “A crying jag that turned into a rather loud ordeal and a forgotten towel for my shoulder and unfortunately that new jacket took the brunt of the damage.” Emma nods in understanding, ignoring the pang of disappointment in her gut because she liked that jacket a lot and that woman Ashley just knew from the Enchanted Forest worked incredibly hard on it. Or Emma assumes she did.

She still can’t quite wrap her mind around fairy godmothers and magic outfits for royal coronations.

Maybe she’ll get there eventually.

Maybe after this coronation.

Maybe after she stops staring at her husband in full scale pirate regalia.

“I can…” Killian starts, taking another step back and Emma finally spins around, the note of concern in his voice doing something even more potent to her pulse than anything to do with the actually impressive amount of black leather he’s wearing.

His tongue keeps darting out between his lips, eyes glancing around the room and anywhere except Emma and she really needs to get dressed.

A fairy godmother made her dress.

“No, no,” Emma says, only slightly embarrassed when she practically shouts the words in his face. Killian’s eyes widen slightly, but they’re also looking at her, which works pretty well and they haven’t been out of the house in the last two days.

They both fell asleep propped up on the wall in the corner of Hope’s room the night before.

“No,” she repeats. “It’s...you look…” Emma is going to arrest her own husband for the look on his face. “Aye,” he says. “Feels almost appropriate doesn’t it?” “Does it?” “Swan.” “I know, I know,” she grumbles, rolling her eyes when his smile, somehow, gets wider. “If I answered a question with a question I’d argue too. Whatever. But, yeah, I guess you’re right. Full circle or something. I’m sorry about your coat, though.” “It’s alright, love. I think we’ve exhausted ourselves completely now, haven’t we?” It takes less than half a second to realize he’s not actually talking to Emma, which is far more endearing than she would have expected. She may sprain several different muscles in her face by the time this is all over.

“Maybe we won’t cause a scene upon arrival then,” Emma says, reaching out to brush her fingers over Hope’s stomach. That earns her a quiet noise too – one that’s inching closer to a giggle every day.

“I think we do need to actually arrive in order to do that.” “How much time are we talking?”

“To travel there or for you to put your gown on?” Emma arches an eyebrow, but she’s only met with a smirk and that goddamn tongue and maybe she’s missed full scale pirate regalia more than she realized. “I don’t know you to be one to complain about my clothing choices choices, Captain.” She will absolutely, positively never admit to doing it solely for the reaction, but that may be exactly why she did it and Killian’s eyes practically flash when he meets her gaze.

Emma isn’t sure flirting is a good excuse for being late to a royal event.

“Never, Swan,” he says, ducking his head and brushing his lips over hers. It’s over before she’s entirely ready for it, and if she chases after him slightly it might not be a lie. She blames the coat. And the cut of his shirt. “Although,” Killian adds. “I’d rather we didn’t begin this new royal reign with wanted posters because our tardiness.”

“Pirate,” she accuses.

“With a fantastic sense of timing.” Emma rolls her eyes, but their daughter is squirming in his arms and neither her hair nor Killian’s charms are safe. “Fine, fine,” she says. “Give me five minutes.”

It takes her four.

And even that feels too long, the quiet creak of the living room floor proof positive of the path Killian’s been tracing for those two-hundred and forty seconds.

He smiles when he sees her anyway.

“Everything alright?” she asks, and it’s kind of a copout and a little cheesy, but they haven’t been outside in two days and her dress is pink.

And so, maybe, Emma awkwardly asked her mom if she still had those polaroids from her first date with Killian. And so, maybe, she brought the dress when the fairy godmother asked for a more detailed look. And so, maybe, this one wasn’t exactly the same, but it was also pink and soft and there was a pattern on it that was so intricate the only explanation was magic.

Killian nods slowly, eyes tracing over her and back up to her face and, possibly, down to her lips and Emma doesn’t bite them, which seems like some kind of victory. She might exhale softly though, like everything is settling or starting and it’s a weird balance, but that’s kind of their lives and she absolutely refused to wear poofy, bell sleeves.

There had to be a line somewhere.

“Stunning, Swan,” he says, voice low and intent when he takes a step back towards her. There’s a baby bag at her feet. It’s nautical theme. Elsa bought it. “You look stunning, love.” Emma grins – possibly so she doesn’t cry, which she may do later anyway because this is supposed to be some kind of event and she’s already seen designs for her mom’s dress too.

“You think I need a coat?” she asks.

It’s clearly not what Killian expects, which almost makes it better but he laughs softly and kisses her again. That doesn’t leave her much room to argue.

“I have no idea,” he answers. “We haven’t been outside in eons.” “That’s only slightly dramatic, don’t you think?” “That’s a pirate trait too, love. I’m afraid, you’ll have to get used to it.” “I think I’m good with that,” Emma says, but it sounds as important as stunning and maybe they can hang her dress next to his jacket when they get home later. “C’mon, it takes real, literal eons to get Hope in the car seat.”

Killian nods and neither one of them moves before they both lean forward slightly and the kiss is quick and normal and it threatens to make Emma’s heart burst, but she ducks down to grab the bag they’ve got filled at all times now.

That’s definitely a Navy thing, but Emma never mentions that.

And she briefly considers how ridiculous it will look, but she doesn’t have anything else and they’re late enough already and Killian’s smile threatens to rival the sun when Emma closes the door behind her – her red, leather jacket on over her gown.

“All good?” she asks.

“Aye, love. Let’s go.”

[maxgrayarchived]

This is gonna be kind of a weird post for my blog, but I think it’s still relevant.

So I’ve been rewatching PewDiePie play the Walking Dead and I just finished season 2, and I’ve noticed some... Problems.

Now, don’t get me wrong- I fucking love these games, and I think Telltale as a whole is really talented and make great games. I just think they have some things to fix in the way they present diversity.

The first thing I want to address that actually make me genuinely upset earlier is that there is literally only TWO LGBT+ characters in all four seasons- In all 20 episodes, we come across two queer men in a relationship.

The first man dies before we even know his name ((Nick you stupid motherfucker)). The second man, Walt, calls Matthew his “partner.” Now, in real life, I don’t have any problems with people calling each other their partner because what the fuck, who would? But in media, it’s a pet peeve of mine when two cis people of the same gender do that because it feels like a copout.

It’s like the game developer saying “they COULD be boyfriends... But partner means a lot of things! Everyone’s happy!” No, you’re a coward.

I’ve watched Felix play season 2 three or four times now and I JUST now got it that they were together romantically. That could have just been me being naive when I was watching it before, but I did end up having to look up on the wiki to find out they were together. It didn’t help that Luke calls Matthew Walt’s “friend” and not “partner” or “boyfriend.”

By the way? Walt dies, too.

Kill all the representation, amirite?

The second thing I noticed is that- And correct me if I’m wrong -there isn’t a single black character who doesn’t display traits of impulsive anger. That’s like??? one of the most obvious tropes to avoid when writing black characters.

Lee, the main character in season one, the first time we see him is in a fucking cop car for god’s sake, with a white driver, going to jail for murdering the man who cucked him. Also... I’m CERTAIN I’m wrong on this, but I can’t actually remember another black character in season one? At all?

In season two, the second we meet Rebecca, she’s a total fucking bitch to us. Now, she comes around ((this might be a determinant by the way you treat her, I don’t know)), but still. She’s angry and she’s yelling at a little girl for God’s sake. She also mentions that if Alvin, her husband (also black) finds out that their baby might not be biologically his, he “will kill her.”

Mike? The first thing he does is yell at us before we even look his way because we’re being “too loud-” Aka, talking quietly on the otherside of the courtyard. He, again, comes around. What a redemption arc!!

And, I’m sure there’s more, but the last thing I noticed is that- Who’s the people who attacked us at the end of season 2? The Russians. Literally, they’re all Russian. All of them. Also the only Russians in the game. Good job, Telltale.

Feel free to discuss/debate this with me, I just had to get it off my chest. The final season honestly has some Strong Queer Vibes(tm), and I have a lot of hope for it. I’m really hoping Telltale games can get their shit together, because this isn’t okay.

[the-cryptographer]

wrapped up playing final fantasy ix

yeah, idk, at some point it became clear to me that the game wasn’t really heading in the directions i wanted it to. that was... a while ago, lol. but i’m usually committed to finishing these things once i start them, even if they’re less than what i’d hoped.

on the game side of things... it’s a final fantasy game. it’s got all the regular final fantasy stuff going on. for this one in particular, i guess i like this type of ability system. otherwise it’s your standard, mostly-mindless turned based combat. summons take way to long to play. as usual i tend to favour physical combat interspersed with a healer that can cast holy. but i ended up relying a lot on Frog Drop and Dragon Crest, heh. my favourite team is something like Eiko and pick 2 {Quina, Freya, Amarant}.

Also this final fantasy gets credit for finally getting me to like moogles. they are... so cute in this. Stiltzkin is pretty great, as was Mogmi and Moguta being silly in love, but my absolute favourite was Moorock, who gets so gd excited about writing a letter and loudly exclaims ‘I love Mognet!’ even though he’s never heard of it before. why are he and Mozme not on disk four tho?! tell me they made it out okay D’x  Although, hmm, I’m not sure why we trusted Artemicion with more superslick at the end there. Since he apparently he got high snorting the last bottle. god, don’t trust the addict with more of his substance.

idk, I guess I’ll go through the story characters. and just... kind of hope I cover everything that way.

Quina

I... love them. And I tend to like gag characters but... I love them. Such ambition... to eat everything. So cute. So silly. So relatable. I also really like the nightgown/smock kind of thing going on. Need more characters dressed like granny that are trying to eat us out of house and home.

Amarant

Um... there seemed to be a lot going on in this sector of the story that kind of... needed more time. Or otherwise needed cutting out, probably. I find it conceptually interesting, at least: loners being confronted with the boundaries of their... determination to be alone. So I like him in spite of myself. But Zidane’s played a pretty shitty trick on him, once upon a time, and it’s a little hard to justify the kind of devotion Amarant has in lieu of that. Because... yes... it is devotion... somehow. And it’s a little hard to buy the way he becomes so easily enamored with how Zidane’s mind works with so little development.

Eiko

Mmm, again, there was some interesting stuff here about her growing up alone, and the way she immediately clung to Zidane as a way to escape that loneliness. But her crush on him is taken a bit too seriously by the narrative, like she’s really in love with him, and that gets a bit creepy, imo. The stuff with Mog is interesting, but kind of too much trying to tug on the heartstrings when the heartstrings haven’t been wound and tuned, if you know what I mean. I suppose, at the end of the day, I didn’t end up liking her all that much. But feel like I could have and should have if they had written her even a little better.

Freya

I love this aesthetic... so much. Kind of a mix of red mage and dragoon, both of which I love individually, plus rat person. She is one of my faves on this basis alone. In terms of her actual personality... it’s so sparse and inconsistent. Ah, there are some landmarks I like - the kind of quiet and sternly professional bits, the loyalty to her homeland, she has some good moments deciding to fight after the destruction of Cleyra, and talking with Amarant too. Just- I’m left feeling like she was never pushed to a workable extreme anywhere in the narrative, and so she doesn’t really have any clear, defining personality characteristic. It’s more like... a lot of shit happens to her, and she’s sad but not too sad, and strong but not too strong. And it’s kind of lacklustre at the end of the day.

Steiner

I don’t really know how to say this except to say it. He’s funny and sweet at times. Overly distracted by rules and decorum, of course. But he also veers hard into being rather annoying to watch at times. He is... not a practical person. Overall, I’m kind of impressed with his bit in the story, though. Even if it fades as the narrative progresses. His relationship with Beatrice was kind of a bright spot in the narrative as a whole for me. I maybe... can’t help but like the fact that this hypercompetent, beautiful lady falls for his bumbling ass. Beatrice in general strikes a neat line between being chilly and needy and, really, way too good for anyone else in the cast.

Vivi

A great character and... ultimately a huge copout. There was a lot of build up to Vivi dying and, ultimately, it felt rather unsatisfying. It felt like they were trying to rob the sadness out of it by limiting what they showed us of him in the epilogue to his breed of offspring. But, even before then, they touched on so many themes about him in a way that really attempted to distance itself from the fear of human mortality. Like, this isn’t something that only happens to weird artificially constructed lifeforms. Human being sometimes find out they only have a couple months or a year left to live, and have to come to terms with that. Hell, all of humanity is on a timer - and not once did anyone really say to Vivi, ‘yeah, it’s true for all of us. We could all die at any moment. We’re only going to last so long, whether it’s a year or ten or a hundred.’ Kuja came kind of close to communicating some of this ‘i’m going to die, just like the Black Mages’. But never in a way that emotionally impacted Vivi, which ws kind of shitty writing, imo.

Dagger/Garnet

I don’t know. She’s rather generic. Which... doesn’t necessarily preclude my attachment in of itself. But, yeah, she’s generic in a way that doesn’t resonate with me, heh. She leans super hard on Zidane the whole narrative, and it’s really not even a little fun. There was some interesting stuff with Ramuh, and with Eiko and her being from the same summoner clan, and her relationship with her mother was great as well. I liked that Dagger got to be sad about Brahne - because let her be sad about losing the people who loved her and who she loved. But... Brahne herself is such a conundrum. I don’t dislike her character and her design as a whole. But I don’t like the game’s ‘fat and ugly are evil’ vibes. And I also don’t like the way she’s immediately forgiven in the public eye, and the eyes of the narrative, once she dies. She... literally destroys cities and kills thousands of people. That’s not really forgivable.

But, regarding Garnet... I started liking her a bit more once she cut her hair and started smiling in her in-game portrait. so, if nothing else, we know I am very shallow.

Zidane

Aaaaand, if I wasn’t already, this is where I start really running into problems. When you don’t really like the main character. When you’re not invested in the main character’s romance that is front and centre of the story and its ending. When you really don’t believe the strength of the emotional connections between the cast that the game is attempting to sell you on... It just makes it really hard to enjoy things. Zidane often seems dismissive, in his own head, and even shallow in the way he attempts to relate to the rest of the cast. It’s everyone else that has to come around to his way of thinking and learn from him, rather than the narrative making much of an effort to teach him about how to actually empathise with others. and it’s kind of grating then that we hear them praise him so casually.

I think, then, combined with the womanising aspect of his character... I don’t know, because I’m certainly not opposed to somebody wanting to sleep with all the ladies. That is an A+ relatable feeling. But, for someone that’s so casual about cozying up to every woman he runs across, I was left feeling like the only woman he had any kind of legitimate connection to was Garnet. (The game tells us he’s good friends with Freya, but does it really show us why? or how?) Which is... I suppose why Garnet, and not Ruby and Freya, was propped up as being Zidane’s major romance. But... idk, it feels a little too much like entitlement. He’s allowed to hit on all the ladies and look good while doing it, while he has a serious relationship developing with Dagger and she’s arguably right there to see him hit on other women, and he also has basically no interest in providing any kind of emotional support or developing any kind of connection with pretty much any woman (except maybe Dagger). Combine this with Cid cheating on Hilda and then she jealously turns him into a beetle - but, wait, this is a happy marriage, the game tells us. and the fact that the game’s major villain is pointedly described as ‘not a skirt chaser like you’... it’s just deifying an entitled straight boy ‘boys will be boys’ kind of attitude when that’s already an accepted social norm. and it’s kind of disgusting. I think there are better ways to talk about infidelity and promiscuity and the desire for the ladies, ones that are still sympathetic to all the parties involved. I think the final fantasy series /has/ talked about it better. With Edgar, who wants to get with all the ladies, but who lets Terra and Celes into his protection and the bounty of Figaro castle without touching either of them, and who is pointedly single even though he’s the sole heir of a kingdom and pushing thirty. And with Tidus, who had a power fantasy dream where Yuna and Rikku are hanging off each of his arms as they roast his father, but that’s before he gets to know each of them better as people. once he does the objectification wanes. I’m not saying that Edgar and Tidus are perfect heroes and wonderfully written, but I think this aspect of them was delivered with more nuance and a more critical eye, and it makes a huge difference.

Also... Are you a team player, Zidane? Or are you just a team player until you’re angry, or decide your pride is on the line? For a kind of ‘friendship is everything’ message, it certainly gets muddled everytime Zidane’s in a snit. Running back into Ispen Castle alone was a weird moment when we’re just getting done telling Amarant not to run around alone. Only okay when I do it(tm) And when he’s being kind of an insufferable bastard at the end of disc 3... just... why are you chasing after him guys? and why, after all that hoopla about accepting his friends’ help, does he deny it when going after Kuja at the end? I'm not saying that there aren’t things one needs to do alone just- why is Zidane always right when he says he needs to do things alone, but everyone else is wrong when they say the same thing? it’s a terrible case of protagonist-centred morality, and it’s really terrible and trite.

idk, I just- I understand why people are sick of the angsty final fantasy heroes after Cloud and Squall (the former I love, the latter I don’t). But I feel Zidane basically fell short in every way that wasn’t being upbeat and energetic, and I’m not sure what everyone sees in him.

Kuja

I can’t help but like this flamboyant bastard. God, he... soooo did not need a tacked on redemption arc. Again, mass genocide isn’t really forgivable. He is a terrible person. full stop. But I’m irrationally pleased he got some sympathy from the narrative anyhow. He’s just... I never liked Sephiroth, but Kuja has convinced me I could have liked Sephiroth if Sephiroth had even a fraction of a personality in ff7.

other than that... the wind/earth/water/fire shrine part of the game was weird. give me real dungeons, devs. also the coffee sidequest is nigh impossible to complete and then the game guilted me, and i hate that.

in the end, i suppose i feel the game was messy. the tone whip-lashed quick between whimsy and pure horror - which should be my jam but, idk, it didn’t work here for me. and a lot of the major characters and storylines lacked depth, or otherwise lacked nuance, or otherwise lacked payoff. it’s kind of hard to watch so much effort and so many good ideas flop so hard, but it flopped hard for me. i don’t get the hype about this game.

[bedbeer65-blog]

What do the Bulls look to add with Otto Porter Jr?

OK, now the Bulls season is really starting. Now, really.

"I think earlier when coach (Jim Boylen) came over, it was more drive the ball and stuff like that," Zach LaVine said Thursday just before the Bulls left for Friday's game in Brooklyn. "I think a little bit of the playing style is going to change just because that's how our game is. You have to play to your strengths. We might start shooting a little bit more threes. We also have multiple positions you have to guard. I think we're going to be pretty on the wings with me at 6-5, 6-6, I don't even know how tall Otto is – like 6-8? Whenever we played Washington, he was the one that was guarding me. He definitely takes the brunt of the leading scorer and stuff like that. Lauri has been playing great the last three or four days. I'm excited; I want to see. It's weird because you don't know how it's going to be. It's changed, but we're going to see how it goes."

And so begins the Bulls with small forward Otto Porter Jr., acquired from the Washington Wizards late Wednesday night for Bobby Portis and Jabari Parker.

"Otto Porter is what the league is, 6-6 to 6-8, multi-position defender, can 3 and D, has got playoff experience." - Coach Boylen

It's something of a next first step to add to the core three, who still are on trial to some extent, of LaVine, Lauri Markkanen and Kris Dunn. Even with Markkanen averaging more than 20 points the last 10 games and LaVine being one of the top scorers in the NBA, the Bulls have been an offensively-challenged team somewhat out of step with the modern NBA of faster, open play with perimeter shooting. That was, essentially, some of the reason for the trade to acquire Porter, a so called 3-and-D player, meaning his specialty is three-point shooting and defense at small forward. The scheme becomes to rely on the shooting to open the court, force defenders to come out farther to guard and then open more lanes to drive to the basket.

The Bulls with LaVine, Markkanen and now Porter would, in theory, have more of such talent to play that kind of game.

It is an evolution from Boylen's inaugural in December when the team was playing slowly to concentrate on defense. But the Bulls have scored at least 100 points in the last 16 games. The Bulls still are 29th in the league in scoring. But in the last month in that stretch, the Bulls are averaging about 108 points per game, which is just below the league average. Baby steps?

"He (Porter) can defend multiple positions," said LaVine, who sat out practice with sore ankles but is expected to play in Brooklyn. "He's obviously a proven scorer. He led the NBA in three-point percentage (third last season). He's definitely somebody that can come out here and help us. "It's all frustrating because we didn't have the season we wanted to (up to this point)," LaVine added. "I think losing definitely feeds into doubt and the way people act and react to you and feel about you. I think that's partly on us as well. We got to go out here and do our job regardless. I'm not a front office guy, I'm not a coach. I can't really tell you what they're thinking or what the direction is. I just know I've got to go out here and do my job. I feel like I've been doing that for the most part. My head's high. I'

And no offense to the popular Portis, who is scheduled to play with the Wizards against the Bulls Saturday, but he became somewhat incidental the way the roster was going. Though no fault of his.

"I hate the saying ‘This is the business,'" acknowledged Boylen. "I think it's kind of a copout, but you know what? This is the business.

"I think you have to look at our roster makeup," said Boylen, who was not officially supposed to mention Porter for now and talked in realistic hypotheticals. "I think it's pretty well known that Lauri Markkanen is a starter at the four (power forward) who can also play some five (center). I think it's from our standpoint..our evaluation that Wendell Carter is going to be a heck of a player for us, maybe a possible dominant defensive guy and also an improving young developing offensive player who plays five. I think we've all learned that Bobby's best position is at five. He seems to be open on every possession when he plays five, and we've got two guys on our roster that we think can play those spots. If you're taking about asset allocation, if you're taking about roster fit, I think the Portis situation, that what happened in the last two days makes complete sense. It doesn't make it easier. It doesn't mean that he's not a very good player. The things that I valued in Bobby were important to me, his spirit to come in and work and his practice habits and Chicago Bulls across his chest meant the world to him. I'm sure Wizards across his chest will mean the world, too. That's the kind of kid he is. Those are the things that are maybe hard to replace in my mind. That's a credit to him and who he is.

"To me," Boylen added, "Otto Porter is what the league is, 6-6 to 6-8, multi-position defender, can 3 and D, has got playoff experience. I think I read where he had 33 games of playoff experience, which is exciting to me, which means he's been in what it's all about and had those moments that really develop you as a player with the highest amount of pressure on you. So yeah, he fits. He fits. We want him to be comfortable in the system. So hypothetically, of course, we'll be learning about him or whoever is here as we go down these last 27 games or whatever it is."

It's still uncertain if Porter plays in Brooklyn, though the trade was official after Boylen met with media.

One of the biggest surprises, albeit pleasant for those around the Bulls, was that Robin Lopez was not traded despite much speculation. There is a possibility of a buyout, though for now the Bulls denied that is under consideration.

"I'm a Chicago Bull. I'm going to do everything I can to continue to try to get this franchise back to where we need to get it to." - Zach LaVine

So it was left to Lopez, as it often is, to burrow in on the essence and significance of all the dealings that included former Bull Nikola Mirotic traded to the Milwaukee Bucks, where Lopez' brother plays.

"I feel bad for Niko," said Robin. "He has to play with Brookie. You know what's even worse about it. He already got the superior experience of playing with me. And now he has to go and play with Brook. It's like living in Fresno and having to move to Clovis. I'm sure everybody understood that."

At least that Robin always leaves you with a smile. How could anyone not like him?

Source: https://www.nba.com/bulls/features/what-do-bulls-look-add-otto-porter-jr

[garden-ghoul]

return of the blog, part 2

“...”

THE PASSING OF THE GREY COMPANY

Merry is hanging out with the tracking party, feeling a bit lost and very useless-baggage-y. What’s going to happen, Aragorn? Well, Aragorn is being very dramatic, bless him. “Do not look for mirth at the ending. It will be long, I fear, ere Théoden sits at ease again in Meduseld. Many hopes will wither in this bitter Spring.” Oh, Aragorn.

Four riders are trying to catch up to the Rohirrim; everyone is, of course, very suspicious, but it turns out the leader is Aragorn’s good old friend Halbarad, a ranger and Dunadan! And Elrond’s cool sons are with him! They brought thirty dudes to help in the war effort. Like I’m sure they’re very skilled and all but. Thirty dudes. You take what you can I guess. Apparently they received a summons from Galadriel after Gandalf was resurrected. Everyone is back at Helm’s Deep now (I missed them actually going there), mainly I mention this because there now exists a place called THE DEATH DOWN, where the huorns killed just massive amounts of people.

Theoden is holding one last feast before they all go to war; he tells Merry he shall ride with him!

‘May I?’ said Merry, surprised and delighted. ‘That would be splendid!’ He had never felt more grateful for any kindness in words. ‘I am afraid I am only in everybody’s way,’ he stammered; ‘but I should like to do anything I could, you know.’

He’s such a good kid. Theoden says he’s going to be king’s squire! Not sure why, the eve of a colossal war is not really the best time to be sparing people’s feelings of uselessness. Or maybe he’s trying to free up whoever is his current squire to kill some people? You don’t do that sort of thing for no reason is all I’m saying. Anyway, in a stupendously clear parallel to last chapter, Merry lays his sword at Theoden’s feet and swears fealty. I loove the contrast between Pippin swearing fealty to a lord he doesn’t really like out of obligation and gratitude; and then Merry swearing fealty to a lord he very much admires out of a desperation to somehow be useful. Pippin’s rather awe-filled reception at Minas Tirith contrasts with Merry’s anxieties about being a burden. Then there’s this:

‘As a father you shall be to me,’ said Merry.

‘For a little while,’ said Théoden.

AWKWARD. Merry why must you. Anyway Aragorn comes up and tells Theoden he’s going to take the Paths of the Dead (everyone in earshot shivers) despite having said a couple paragraphs ago that he would have to be REALLY DESPERATE to do that. Theoden’s company rides off; Aragorn is like “wow I love Merry so much, he’s such a good and important person.” And everyone else agrees: “hobbits are super important and I love them.” I think it’s supposed to stand in contrast to Merry’s own poor opinion of himself, but I’m not really sure why they have such a high opinion of him. Just because he’s brave? Shrug. Aragorn also says he looked into the palantir and had a staring contest with Sauron to wig him out. “I’m the heir of Elendil,” he said. “Here’s Narsil! Right here! Remember her, motherfucker?” And Sauron, reportedly, went “Oh fuck.”

Then Aragorn explains why he’s going thru the Paths of the Dead. You probably know already, so I won’t relate it here. There is a seer involved though, which is pretty cool. Some oathbreaking. Very Numenorean honestly, these dead Men of the Mountains remind me of the Faithless, in that the reason for their oathbreaking is a new unexpected allegiance to Sauron. And with that exposition, the “greay company” is off! For some reason they make it to Edoras long before Theoden does, and Aragorn comes to say hi to Eowyn. 

When she heard of the battle in Helm’s Deep and the great slaughter of their foes, and of the charge of Théoden and his knights, then her eyes shone.

I see what gogol means. Eowyn is gay for Deeds. She also conceptualizes being the ruler of Edoras and sorta Rohan as “exile,” because WHY would you want to rule anything when you could be killing people??? The next time we hear a description of Eowyn it’s that “her eyes were on fire.” Why did baby ghoul relate so much to Eowyn? Up until now I thought it was because she was the only TV lady who had freckles like me, but actually maybe it was her nebulous gender dysphoria and frustration. She is SO frustrated. First she offers to ride with Aragorn on his death errand. He refuses her; she’s the ruler of the Mark. BITTER. BITTER BITTER BITTER. WHY DOES EOWYN ALWAYS GET LEFT BEHIND? IS SHE NOT A SHIELD-MAIDEN? This is a good exchange:

‘A time may come soon,’ said he, ‘when none will return. Then there will be need of valour without renown, for none shall remember the deeds that are done in the last defence of your homes. Yet the deeds will not be less valiant because they are unpraised.’

And she answered: ‘All your words are but to say: you are a woman, and your part is in the house. But when the men have died in battle and honour, you have leave to be burned in the house, for the men will need it no more.’

Get him, Eowyn. I mean, it IS essential to make sure non-combatants in Rohan stay safe and such, but Eowyn is right that she shouldn’t be forced into the unpraised deeds just because she’s a woman. Before you say such things, Aragorn, maybe start a culture of praising valiant deeds that don’t involve killing anyone?? Then we’ll talk.

Once again as Aragorn’s company rides away we get the same exact image of Eowyn standing and watching them go... this time filled with tension and anger, her fists clenched and tears in her eyes. Aragorn is sad about it. Whatever, dude. We timeskip to the entrance of the Path of the Dead, where the Dunedain are gentlly coaxing their horses in through the awful doorway. Legolas has to enchant his horse to get it to go in. Gimli is left alone outside, possibly the only one who feels so viscerally how wrong this underground passage is compared to what it should be. I think his fear is greater for the fact that he has never felt uneasy underground before; it’s like home, perverted into something dreadful. As they go forward Aragorn calls the dead. No-one answers, but Legolas can see them riding behind. As they ride through Morthond Vale I am getting the impression that there are living humans there? And they are afraid because, like, the king of the dead. Aragorn and co ride hell for leather for the Stone of Erech.

The Stone of Erech is an enormous black sphere, half buried in the ground, that for some reason was brought out of Numenor. Like... you didn’t have anything better to bring on your ships than an enormous black sphere of stone? Anyway this is the site of the oath that was broken, and now the dead are ready to fulfill it and have peace after like 3000 years. “When all this land is clean of the servants of Sauron, I will hold the oath fulfilled,” he says. Which is pretty harsh. Like, what if a hundred years from now there’s just one servant of Sauron remaining? That would just suck for everyone. Also he unfurls a banner Arwen made for him, which is apparently black on black. Love it. Very stylish. So that’s the muster of the dead. What about

THE MUSTER OF ROHAN?

This bit is confusing because I thought it was going to be Pippin POV but then as soon as they mentioned the Rohirrim had made it to Gondor it turned into Merry POV. I never have a good intuition for what things Tolkien will think it’s reasonable to skip... Wait no they didn’t make it to Gondor. They just about made it to Edoras. This is very confusing and I have poor reading comprehension. The point is Merry is sad and lonely because everyone’s speaking Rohir or whatever and he misses all his friends and absolutely everyone he knows. The party reaches Harrowdale and climbs up a super steep path for some reason; it’s lined with Pukel Men, monoliths carved into a human shape. Ahhhh I love standing stones, Heck I love standing stones. They’re from the “dark years” (when Numenor was still going on and thus Real People weren’t in Middle Earth ::P) and some unknown people made this place, Dunharrow. OH. Here’s Eowyn! The reason they’re here is because Edoras has been evacuated, and Theoden wanted to check on his people.

While Theoden and his peeps are having dinner a messenger from Gondor comes in and Merry is like BOROMIR??? WTF. But no, he just can’t tell Gondorians apart haha. Also what was the point of the beacons if Denethor was just going to send a messenger straight to Theoden. Theoden promises 6000 guys (not bad! that’s twice the entire Gondor) in one week, though the messenger says a week will probably be too late. Still, he says sarcastically, maybe you can disturb the orcs feasting on our corpses.

Merry wakes up the next day in the darkness; the sun will not rise today. Or if it does nobody will see it, because Sauron has sent a great wave of black clouds across the sky to embolden his troops. Dreamy. Theoden is releasing Merry from his service (yes, after three days, what a copout) to serve Eowyn here while she rules the noncombatant Rohirrim. Merry is. Sad. He wants to help! Even if he has to be tied to a horse! But no dice. Eowyn takes him off to arm himself anyway. Thanks Eowyn you are a true bro. As Theoden’s company leaves, they sing a song that is clearly based on Anglo Saxon epic poetry, and also I believe was not meant to be sung. So. Minus points, Johnald. It doesn’t sound like a song, it doesn’t scan like a song. It’s a nice poem, though. A nice lad called Dernhelm offers to bear Merry on his horse and hide him since Theoden won’t take him. Thanks for showing us Eowyn’s exact transition goals, it’s good.

[theangelandthejerk]

In Direct Response to "Begin."

I made myself a promise. Keep your mouth shut, only share your negative opinion with the people in your life who care about your well being.

This person doesn't need to know what I think. This person does not know me, and I do not know them. Because in truth, I speak only out of anger and hurt. I say things I don't mean, things I never meant for you to see.

But then, My privacy was violated. Kyle Crone dumped me on July 4th, and then picked up a pair of virtual binoculars and watched my every word. Private conversations, outpourings of emotion that were not meant for his eyes. Facebook messenger conversations, a private Slack account through which I speak to my best friend. I could see every time he read one of my messages; he never left me alone. And then he shared them with you.

Don't let him lie to you and say none of this is true; I have never once called you by that name except to two people, on those two private messengers. You want receipts? I've got 'em. He had my password; I gave it to him during the beginning of the relationship, to quell his trust issue.

He gave you the link to this tumblr. The one that only my closest confidants have seen. And now, in the hands of a complete stanger.

If what I said hurt you, then allow me to apologize. It is not my intention to bring to life horrible memories and make you remember the horrors of your past. I am not that kind of person. What I am... is a scared, heartbroken girl who has lost the most important person in her life. Her best friend. The person she thought she was meant to marry and spend eternity chasing happiness together.

A very important detail to note here is, you don't have my side of the story. You have his biased telling of what our relationship was. And based on the hurtful things he said to me over the weeks following our break up, I am entirely certain he is not telling you the truth. Because at his core, Kyle Crone is a liar and a cheat. He is not a good person. He let temptation into his heart and it twisted his soul into something unrecognizable. He has lied to both of us. And he is lying to himself.

But this isn't about who he is now. This is about who he was. How we got here. What happened to cause this entire mess. If I'm being 100% honest, I still don't understand it myself. We were your average, introverted, mental illness-sharing couple. Our good moments far outshined the bad. When we fought, it was because we forgot, or were not willing, to communicate somewhere along the way; the most common problem in any relationship. Straws broke the camel's back, and suddenly we were yelling.

But in the end? We always came back together. Apologies were made. We talked it out. And contrary to what he has convinced himself of to justify the infidelity, I listened. I understood. I cared. I held him for hours on end on the nights that he sobbed, and my heart broke with every shake. I wanted to change, to be a better person for him. I wanted to help him heal.

So on July 4th, when we had another dumb fight over something that could have been easily solved with an honest conversation, rather than just a copout of "I'm tired and don't want to," ? I was blindsided. It hit me like a million bricks falling onto my chest. And I fell to the pavement and I begged him, sobbing, for another chance.

It didn't matter. He'd checked out of the relationship months ago, without giving me any notice. I thought it was depression. I was worried about him. I did what I knew how to do, what helps me when I hit a funk like that: fun activities, nice dinners, spending time with my family who cared deeply about him. Perhaps that was our fatal flaw: he didn't understand my love language. I show affection by spending quality time outside of the house with that person. I encourage adventure. I loved talking and holding hands with him over a dinner table. How was I supposed to know that this was just making his resentment grow?

Three different times over the course of that month, I asked him candidly, "Are we okay?" "Is there something wrong?" "Are you okay?" And every time, his answer was yes yes yes. "Yes, babe, we're okay. I promise. Of course I still want to marry you. I love you so much."

And then.

Blindsided. Ripped open. Shattered.

I have not felt that kind of pain before in my life. It was intense, physical, profound. Nothing made it feel better Except for the distant hope that maybe one day, he would allow me to atone for my mistakes and fix the relationship.

But then.

I discovered you, Kita.

You'd been tagging my boyfriend in love letters for months. And the cute reblogs that I thought were meant for me were directed at you.

Do you blame me for hating you? Do you think I was not justified in thinking that you were a man-stealing whore during those weeks when I didn't have the full story?

And then the realization that you'd met in person, on the night that I went to see the star I've idolized since I was a teenager. Demonize me all you want for not coming to every one of your shows, Kyle Crone; we discussed it. You told me it was okay. You gave no sign of it not being okay.

You met, and I don't know what transpired. I don't want to know. But that night, he took off his ring. And he didn't put it back on.

I keep telling myself I should have realized. I should have seen the other signs. But there were none. He was acting the same as he always did when depression hit. In fact, most of the time he seemed happier than he'd been, because he had friends now to support him. And that made me so happy. I wish he'd been able to feel that same sort of joy when I found my friends, instead of growing jealous and possessive.

Post break up.

Realization after realization hit. My world fell into pieces day after day. And all I wanted to do was drive my car into the guard rail going 100 miles an hour.

My best friend. The man I loved with every fiber of my being.

To me, he had no flaws. To me, through his imperfections, he was perfect. I valued his opinion. I adored his creativity. I found joy in his memory of the silly little things that I tend to forget.

In any and every way, he is perfection to me. He fit in all the places that had always been empty in me. He soothed my aches and helped me work my way through the pains of the battles that I have been fighting alone for so long.

Gone. No hope of returning, for he'd already given his heart to someone else.

So think what you will of me. Judge me. Laugh at me.

Every time I glance down at my wrist, I am hit in the gut with that empty feeling. A piece of art I'd been wanting for years, something I decided to get for myself and he piggybacked on. He was the one who said it would make a cute couples tattoo. And now all it is, is a reminder. "Stay alive, Ali, you're strong. But you'd be stronger if there wasn't this awful association." The Semicolon Movement belongs to all of us. If it makes you stronger, fuck it, more power to you. But don't either of you pretend like it wasn't a shitty thing to do to me.

Don't either of you pretend for a second that everything about this situation isn't wrong or fucked up.

It's hilarious how you think your love is unique. Like I don't feel about him the exact same fucking way that you do.

If it were necessary of me, I would die for him. I’d give up anything and everything for him to be happy; even if that means I’m no longer in the picture. Because the truth of the matter is that I love him. And that’s not going to change. Ever.

"I love you." "I am loyal to you." "I want to spend the rest of my life with you." "You are my soul mate." "I want to marry you."

All things he's said before. Said to me, said to you, will say again.

Promises. That was our thing. Our "Always" was "I promise."

The sad thing is? He meant them. He kept those promises. Until the day he started playing a game called Final Fantasy. Suddenly, I didn't matter. Suddenly, I was a chore. Do you know how many nights I spent crying because I felt like a burden every time I had to beg him to come cuddle me to sleep? I've lost count. I felt worthless. Like I did not deserve affection. And every time I tried to bring it up, it turned into a fight. Even though all I asked, was an hour or two each day.

We got home from work, he would sit with me for perhaps half an hour, if that. Then straight to the game. All night long. Only getting up to use the bathroom or if I begged him to go get food. Still made to feel like an annoyance. Half an hour of cuddling before I slept. Again, if that. Back to the game. He would get mad at himself if he allowed himself to fall asleep with me. Anywhere between two and four in the morning, finally coming to bed.

What kind of relationship was that? Hardly one at all.

And even though it made me sad, still, I loved him unconditionally.

We had our issues. We were not perfect. No relationship is.

But I loved him. I wish that love was enough.

Take care of him. Do not break his heart.

And do not forget about the girl who is forever changed because of your actions.