#I mean I fully intend to make another one in the future but still

[art]

Creator Spotlight: @mimimar

Hi! I’m Michelle (Mimimar), an illustrator born and raised in Venezuela, currently based in Italy. I enjoy making colorful illustrations that reflect the things I love: fairy tales, fantasy, tenderness and queer (especially sapphic) stories. Occasionally, I also make paper dolls, comics and animatics. I have a lot of interest in book illustration and I’m currently developing my own stories that I hope to share as an author-illustrator someday!

Check out our interview with Michelle below!

Did you originally have a background in art? If not, how did you start?

I always enjoyed drawing when I was a kid, but it only became a hobby that I did almost every day when I was around 11. At first I only used traditional mediums, but I decided to make a serious effort to learn how to draw digitally when I was 15, and once I got the hang of it I never stopped!

I didn’t go to art school so all of my learning was done through studying the tutorials and resources that other artists generously share on the internet and lots of practice / trial and error.

How do you want to evolve as a creator?

I want to do many things but what I want to do the most right now is work on books! I want to make art for other authors’ stories and also my own stories as an author-illustrator. I want to grow as a storyteller and create art and stories that will really resonate with people emotionally. I’m always striving to improve my skills as well.

I also really love dolls, so working on doll box art or as a doll designer is something I would love to do someday. I actually have been designing paper dolls on my Patreon for the past few months, it’s been a fun project that is still ongoing right now!

What is one habit you find yourself doing a lot as an artist?

Probably using a lot of purple! It’s my favorite color so I find myself using it a lot. If I can find a way to sneak a little bit of purple into an illustration or a character design then I will.

Congratulations on finishing your Ivy Comic! Did the outcome turn out like how you expected or were there some unexpected bumps along the way?

Thank you! It’s a project that I worked on very slowly in between other art because I wanted to really take my time with every spread and make each of them a fully detailed illustration. I thumbnailed the full comic before starting but I kept changing the sketch for the final spread until the very end! Overall I’m really proud of the end result. I sprinkled a lot of hidden details in every page that I hope some of the readers will notice. For example: the meanings of the flowers in each page represent what the characters are feeling in that moment, and the colors of their wardrobe become gradually lighter as the story progresses to represent their emotions, as well as the changing of seasons.

We’ve noticed that you have created some amazing cover art for TGCF. Is there another series you would like to do something similar with? 

That was another passion project that took some time to complete. Initially, I didn’t intend for them to be specifically covers, it was just a series of illustrations based on the 5 books/main arcs of TGCF. But since they were well-received and I had people telling me they wish they could use them as covers for their books, I decided to rework them into dust jackets for the english translation of TGCF!

I haven’t thought of any other specific series but I love doing cover art so maybe I’ll do something similar again in the future!

What’s your favorite part of your style? Why?

I’ve heard from other people that there’s a delicate quality to my art, this is something that I like a lot! I like pretty things, fairytales and vibrant colors. I think all of these things probably reflect in the art I make as well.

If there is one thing you want your audience to remember about your work, what would it be?

I hope that they remember how it made them feel. Feelings and colors are the two things I give priority to in my work. Most of the time I like depicting tenderness, softness and emotional intimacy. If that could reach the viewer and stay with them it would make me very happy. 

I make a lot of art with queer (mainly sapphic) themes because they’re the kind of stories I personally like and want to see more of, so whenever people tell me that my art has helped them in their journey to discover and accept themselves, or that they see themselves and their partner in my art, it is always extremely meaningful to me. When art that I made to give myself comfort can provide comfort for others, no matter how small, it reminds me once again that despite any hardships art is genuinely worth pursuing.

Who on Tumblr inspires you and why?

So many artists! To name a few:  I love @sakizo’s amazing eye for fashion and detail,  @paneeps’ gorgeous style and striking colors,  the sweetness of @bevsi’s art,  @vickisigh’s pretty colors and concepts,  @idledee’s warm and heartfelt art,  @littlestpersimmon’s dreamy wonderful art,  and @loish has been an inspiration for as long as I can remember.

Thank you so much for stopping by and sharing, Michelle! Be sure to check out their Tumblr blog over at @mimimar.

[kiyo-cant-write]

hi hi! jade req again, kinda toxic this time

can we get jade with a reader who’s really easy to manipulate and they know it? idk if it makes sense but like jade realizing reader isn’t oblivious to his manipulation, just kinda self-destructive and hopelessly into him

jade thought he was being slick because reader wasn’t calling him out on anything, but he overhears their conversation and finds out that they’re fully aware jade is a ton of red flags but is still staying anyway, and his reaction to that

i really hope this makes sense! idk how to word it

jade w/ an easily manipulated reader ✧･ﾟ

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Aw! Thank you for another request! I love Jade and Octavinelle so much! I hope that I did your idea justice. Please let me know if you'd like another request in the future! Onwards to the story! ^^

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Summary: Jade Leech has been stringing [Name] along for fun and due to the instruction of Octavinelle's Housewarden. He thought he was doing well... but it seems [Name] may have had ulterior motives.

TW/CW: Toxicity but the standard Fish Mafia kind

Notes: established "relationship", they/them pronouns for the reader, the reader is Yuu/Ramshackle Prefect, the reader is described as human and younger than Jade/frosh, ADeuce if you squint, implied to be post-Azul OB

Guest Stars: Deuce Spade, Ace Trappola, Grim, Azul Ashengrotto & Floyd Leech (referenced)

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✧･ﾟ: ✧･ﾟ: ✧･ﾟ: ✧･ﾟ: ✧･ﾟ: ✧･ﾟ: ✧･ﾟ: ✧･ﾟ:

Jade Leech

As much of a sadist as Jade can be, he's not exceptionally cruel outside of what he deems as the necessity for his purposes.

He is a bit smug when he thinks he has [Name] under control.

Jade is pretending to be "honor student Jade Leech."

He acts as their friend and support albeit for the Lounge.

He pretends to care, to do everything to help them.

He smiles at them, speaks politely, and even "affectionately."

They trust him and they tell him things they shouldn't.

He will use those bits of information when the time comes.

Every time they have an inkling of doubt, he squashes it.

His surprise is evident when Floyd points out that it might not be the case this time, but Floyd is Floyd and doesn't explain.

Wanting to make sense of this discovery, Jade observes [Name].

He watches to see if [Name] really has caught onto him.

Jade is intrigued and what he finds does not disappoint.

He is surprised to find that they caught on long ago.

But they stayed? Why?

Because they "love" him?

Why would they love the guy trying to string them along?

It didn't make sense to him. He felt a tug at his heartstrings.

Did he feel bad about this?

He didn't know what to do.

Jade starts to avoid [Name] after realizing their feelings.

He retracts further into his honor student persona.

[Name] will not win this fight. He will not be bested by a freshman.

The battle has just begun and Jade needs to bury this sinking feeling in his chest. What does it mean anyway?

Floyd serves as a live studio audience to Jade's struggles.

Jade is an observer. That had been his role for so long, that he wasn't sure when it began. Ever since he was young, he would watch and calculate while Floyd was the type to rush into things, be impulsive, and just a tad stupid at times, at least when they were young. Jade never intended to make his observations a skill, but sooner or later, everything becomes an asset.

That's what his father had always said.

His mother worried about the sadistic streak in her son, but she couldn't do anything to prevent its development. Jade was, after all, a member of the Leech family. He and Floyd would join the family business sooner or later unless they wholly refused its offer.

"[Full Name]," Jade mused to himself, "How interesting."

Azul had been the one to ask him to pay extra close attention to Ramshackle's Prefect in case they strayed too far from things, or got into any trouble. The magicless human that had saved others from themselves, they interested the owner of Mostro Lounge. Jade had simply agreed with Azul's request, observation was his skill, after all.

It had never been meant to evolve, and certainly not into this.

Jade watched as this person fell for his polite words hook, line, and sinker. It was almost too easy. They were shockingly trusting, telling him all sorts of things he could use to be downright evil if he wanted to be. It wasn't time for that, not yet, but one should always guard their secrets (perhaps not as much as Azul, but at least a bit).

He didn't need to do anything unless the moment called for it.

At the time, it had not been necessary.

That was weeks ago.

Azul hadn't given further instructions and, to be fair about it, Jade didn't want to earn that octomer's ire. Not today, anyway. He and Floyd were troublesome, yes, but not stupid.

So, as Azul had instructed, he was trailing the Prefect until told otherwise (or until it became boring, whichever arose first). Though their reactions had been predictable, he could argue that things were getting boring now.

Floyd would have given up ages ago, he was sure of it.

[Full Name] was currently spending their time with their classmates, Ace Trappola (easily swayed by competition and bets) and Deuce Spade (note: gullible as a child). Jade had kept an eye on the three of them (and Grim) because of their closeness. It was rather irritating how buddy-buddy they were. He had worked a bit to get [Name] alone those few times they had spoken privately.

Standing away from the trio, Jade listened in on their conversation.

"[Name], I don't think that this is good," Deuce told them, clearly worried for their friend's mental state, "You need to be more careful. Don't you remember what happened to me and Ace?"

"I fucking remember!" Ace chimed in, "It sucked. Don't trust fish."

"Nya! Fish are food, not friends," Grim told them, "Especially eels!"

"Ah... You guys..."

Jade almost wanted to chuckle at Grim's words of "wisdom" but he withheld it, knowing that he mustn't give away his position. Not yet.

"You shouldn't trust Leech-senpai," Deuce continued, "Do you not remember how he and his twin brother acted before?"

"THEY TRIED TO KILL US, [NICKNAME]!!" Ace interrupted Deuce, earning him a glare from the navy-haired boy, "Sorry, Deuce-chan."

"Don't call me that."

What Deuce was doing could only be described as glowering.

"Lighten up and help me convince [Nickname] not to get themselves murdered by a shady eel and a shadier octopus!" Ace told him, slapping Deuce on the shoulder, "Just because they're better doesn't mean they're changed fish! Fish are suspicious!"

"Ace, do you have some fish-related trauma outside of campus that I should know about?" Deuce asked him, "It's starting to seem—"

"FOCUS ON [NICKNAME], DEUCE."

Ace's reddened face was a sign that Deuce was on to something with that fishy nonsense. Jade Leech would remember that fact.

Fish trauma. Noted.

"....Okay," Deuce agreed, turning back to [Name], "Do you want to tell us what you've been doing with Leech-senpai? We're worried..."

Deuce trailed off for a moment before he added a Deuce-typical offer.

"I can fight him if you want me to. They're messing with my friend."

"N-no thanks, Deuce... I don't think I need that," [Name] said, laughing at the antics of her friends and roommate, "Honestly, I know he's not being honest with me... But I don't really... care?"

The words surprised Jade but he refused to give himself away. There was more information to be gathered, for his own needs and Azul's.

They don't mind my dishonesty? Heh...

"I have never been more concerned for you than I am right now," Ace said, tone lacking its usual goofy undertone, "Do you want me to tell Mom and Dad about anything? They would help..."

Ace wasn't sure what to do but this was a worry. So frantic to say his sentence Ace neglected to register his misnomer for Vice Housewarden Trey Clover and everyone's favorite senpai Cater Diamond. He could lay awake and think about that later.

Deuce clearly felt similarly as he reached out to put a hand on [Name]'s. He wasn't good at solving problems of the emotional variety but he could be a support. Or, he would try to be one.

"Even if we can't say anything helpful... We can be here to listen."

"I appreciate it, but I'm fine," [Name] tried to assure them (but it wasn't working), "I just... I like Jade-senpai... and if this is how... he will talk to me... then I am okay with it. I've just been going along with all... that."

Jade felt time stop for a millisecond as he processed the words. They had been "playing along"? They didn't fall for every trick? Perhaps this was more interesting than he had thought. Still. He didn't like being bested, perhaps he needed to up his game...

"[Name], that's not good... I don't think..." Deuce managed.

"I wish Mom and Dad were here..." Ace mumbled.

"[Name], don't leave me for a fish! It's not even tuna!"

Grim clung to his human with small paws, tail swishing.

Jade was baffled not by those that Azul had previously controlled but by [Name] themself. They were something odd amongst the students of Night Raven College. They didn't shy away from his... methods.

But they said they liked him. He wondered if that made him feel something. He wasn't one to like other people, stay around them long... especially these landfolk.

It was a foreign concept.

Oh dear. [Full Name], you've managed to intrigue me now.

To the concern of Deuce, Ace, and Grim, Jade Leech wouldn't be letting his human prey go any time soon. Not for Azul, or his brother... This was something he was pursuing now. For better or worse.

I hope they're prepared to best me once more.

What would they say if I said I "loved" them? ♪

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Imagine the rest for yourself~

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Thank you for reading! Likes and reblogs are appreciated! Do NOT repost my writing/headcanons as your own >:c Check the top of my blog for the inbox status and read the rules before requesting. This is not a twst-only blog! ^^

[uranometrias]

you can kiss a hundred boys — sam winchester

→ premise: you, the mostly stable edition to sam & dean's little hunting duo have found yourself the object of all of sam's hopes and dreams. the only problem? you barely seemed to give him a second glance and had a bigger sexual appetite than dean. which meant that night after night, bar after bar, and motel after motel, sam was forced to come to grips with the fact that you were far from interested in reciprocating any sort of feelings he may have been pathetically harboring. or so he thinks.

→ pairing: sam winchester x fem!reader

→ warnings: angst w/ resolution, heavy cursing, miscommunication trope? r! + sam both have issues with expressing themselves in healthy ways. sam is just exceptionally jealous + lashing out. r! has abandonment issues. semi love confessions. r! is described to be older than sam (take that as you will). no particular timeline, but set in earlier seasons. heavy making out. allusions and depictions of former sexual activity. no smut (i'm building up to it omg). teasing! dean. r! can kind of be read as alcohol dependant. fluff + happy ending <3

→ a/n: preparing to tackle writing a full length supernatural fic on wattpad within the coming days, and felt it was only right to dip my toes in writing for the fandom just to see if i even have a semblance of a shot of doing justice to this fandom. very very nervous at the attempt, but i hope at least one person winds up enjoying this! i hope i characterized sam well... i'm doing a rewatch of earlier seasons and tried to base this off that. fingers crossed it comes across the way i intended. <3

"And what the hell's gotten into you?" your hand drops to your hip, eyes dancing from Sam long enough to take in Dean who had his lips pursed in the way that told you he was keeping his quips and thoughts to himself. You'd just sidled up to the boys, grin big and eager as you rushed out practiced 'goodnights'. Some guy neither brother (or you for that matter) could be bothered to remember the name of had invited you back to his place, and you'd accepted graciously. After solving a case that went as good as any hunt could, you felt you owed it to yourself to have some fun.

And while the guy in no way looked like the future love of your life, there was no rule that said a girl couldn't have a little fun every once in a while. The only problem now seemed to be that your offerance of a goodbye had been enough to send Sam into a pissy mood. His face was scrunched up in that way that told you he was peeved, and for the very life of you, you couldn't figure out why.

"It's nothing." he reassures, and your eyes narrow, not buying it for even one second. "Have a good night." Sam's eyes are rolling before he can fully get it out, and your looking back at Dean, almost begging him to make things plain. All he does is let an exasperated puff of air fly from his nose as he downs his shot before flagging the bartender down for another one.

"Sammy?" and your head tips to the side, eyes shooting behind you to ensure your date for the night hadn't found someone else to occupy him. "Come on, you know I know something's wrong." you try, because even if you were itching to get laid, you cared about Sam and Dean more. Which meant if he was pissed with you, there was nothing that would stop you from at least attempting to fix it.

"Yeah, well there's not really anything you can do about it, so why don't you just go." and he's stern but not mean. Still, it makes you falter just a step. "You're better at that anyway." and this is grumbled, voice lowered, but you hear it all the same. It makes you scoff, letting out a disbelieving sort of laugh as your lips push out in disinterest.

"Right." and you wring your hands. "I guess I'll do that then." you don't mean to sound snarky, but now your feelings are hurt, and you've got no real clue why. Still, Sam Winchester was about as stubborn as you were avoidant, so if he was going to push you away, you were going to go with open arms. It's precisely why you don't say anything else as you turn on your heel and stomp away like a petulant toddler. Sam's body is swiveling in his chair, almost like he's had a change of heart, and he's turning to hurriedly apologize, but finds that you're nowhere near enough for him to try.

"Nice going." Dean says like the annoying older brother that he is, and he's letting out another chuckle that makes Sam want to slam his head into the bar seated right in front of him.

"Shut up." he retorts instead.

"Don't take it out on me just cause you're all pent up!" is what Dean says next, and Sam wonders if everything in Dean's life revolves around sex and hunting. "Maybe you should be a little more like her and get rid of some of that aggression. Hunting ain't gon' fix everything." Dean lectures, and Sam thinks if his eyes roll again they'll spin right out of the sockets.

"Look not everything can be fixed by sleeping with some stranger." Sam offers as Dean stares at him like he's grown a second head. "And besides, I didn't say anything wrong. She's always gone." he whines. "Every single night." he reiterates. "It's like she can't wait to get away from us." and Sam's not sure if that's his heartache or his abandonment issues talking. Dean isn't sure either. "I mean, even you take breaks sometimes." and Dean resists the urge to react to the clear jab at his sexual history.

"So she's having some fun. What's the harm in that? It's not like she can't take care of herself. The kid packs a mean punch." and he winces at the memory of learning it first hand.

"Yeah, I know that." Sam retorts instantly.

"So then what's the problem?" Dean is quick with his assault of questions, and Sam just wants to be left alone to pout and be angry, but he knows Dean won't let him. He never does, not fully.

"There's no problem." he tries, and Dean's smacking his teeth.

"Bullshit." he spits. "You don't jump down somebody's throat like that and take shots if there's no problem. So what is it? You worried about her or something?" and Dean is just barely missing the point. "Cause it ain't your job to ride her back Sam, she can handle herself. Sort of cases we deal with everyday a couple of guys from the bar ain't gonna be too much trouble."

"Yeah, I got the message. She can handle herself." and he's grumpier than before, the evidence plain as day on his face.

"So then what the hell's your problem?" Dean demands.

"I like her, Dean." Sam finally offers and Dean's hand is waving him off instantly.

"Well sure, I like the kid too-"

"No, Dean." he emphasizes as Dean's eyebrows jump up. It takes him a second, but it finally clicks, hitting him like a ton of bricks as his mouth screws open in surprise. His body twists, chair turning as he turns in the direction you'd just gone, and then he's looking back at Sam and every last bit of the exasperation and grouchiness makes sense. He knows he ought to be gentle with this, but finds himself smirking coyly.

" Well, well, well." he reaches out and claps a hand against Sam's back, and the much taller man jolts at the impact. "And all this time I was worried you'd forgotten how to love a woman." and Dean is Dean, which means he's probably got no idea how insensitive his remark could be. But Sam knows Dean better than anyone, so he knows he doesn't mean much harm.

"Shut up." is Sam's instant response.

"I'm just saying. You've had a lot of misses there, Sammy. So as far as interest goes, this is damn sure a step in the right direction." And Sam notes how Dean always talks about you like you're the best person in their life. Sam knows you're not, but he like that Dean admires you so much. You were a lot like him, so Sam supposed it made sense. You both were rougher around the edges, strong, smart in the tactical sense.

And you both liked to drown your sorrows and trauma in things like booze, beer, and sexual conquests. And don't get him wrong, he had no real issue with the fact you were sexually liberated. In fact it was a very respectable sort of thing for what a woman to be. He just hated the fact that he never crossed your mind in that way. He was certain you'd even joked at some point about sleeping with Dean just for kicks.

"She's not a hill to climb, Dean." Sam shoots back, and he wishes he had just kept his mouth shut.

"Of course." Dean retorts, sounding unconvinced, because as usual anything that revolved around actually being interested in a woman past sleeping with her was lost on Dean. Which meant even with his teasing, he still only thought Sam was interested in you in the weakest of senses. But that wasn't the case. Because you were so much more than just some woman to conquer. He didn't even think he'd get the chance to try. You were daunting in the best way, too sure of yourself to take being used.

Which is why he never said anything. Because at first he thought you were only a pretty face that took his mind off the hurt Jess' death left behind. Until suddenly the thought of Jess didn't sting as bad, only because your presence became some sort of salving balm. He was screwed beyond repair.

"I'm serious." Sam insists, and now it's Dean's turn to roll his eyes.

"Oh, give me a break, Sam." he retorts. "Matter of fact, give yourself a damn break. You're gonna tear yourself apart sitting here pouting about it like a damn child." and Sam huffs through his nose. "If you're not gonna be a man about it and say something, then stop making it everyone else's problem." And Dean's not being mean. He's being Dean, but in his current state, Sam doesn't have it in him to not take offense. The whole 'Be a man' of it all reminding him too much of John.

"Screw you, Dean." Sam's up before either of them can really register it, and Dean's surprised at the drama of it all. It was different when they butt heads over cases, or their differing opinions of their father. But they didn't fight over stuff like this. They both just went about their lives doing their own thing as far as women were involved. And sure Dean knew you were beautiful, but you all knew how dangerous your job was. Falling in love was a death wish, and he thought Sam of all people knew it.

But as usual, he was wrong.

"Sam!" Dean calls after his younger brother, who navigates through the quickly growing crowd of drunks with ease. "Sammy!" He knows Sam hears him, but is choosing to ignore him. Dean also knows Sam doesn't have the keys to the impala, so it's not like he could actually leave. Which is the only reason he decides to give his baby brother a second to cool off. If he hadn't spun the block in ten minutes max though, Dean would be up and out of the bar guns almost blazing.

By the time Sam had managed his way through the crowd and stepped out of the bar, he'd partially forgotten what his big tantrum was about. That is until his eyes skim the parking lot, and he finds you of all people pressed up against the side of the place all by yourself. Your back is pressed fully into the brick of the building, eyes closed as you lent your head back. You looked a lot grouchier than you'd been earlier when you'd bounced over with all your teeth showing.

He wonders if your sour mood has anything to do with him.

He stands there for a moment, debating if he would approach you, before you open your eyes, and spot him. He thinks that answers the question for him. "What are you doing out here?" he asks, and your lips push out in a show of your disinterest in having a conversation with him. You were still upset by what he said. Figures. He lets his feet drag him towards you, and you tense up the moment he's close enough to really take you in. Your entire body is clenched up, and you're quick to force a wider gap between the both of you as Sam mimicked your posture on the wall.

"I thought you were getting out of here." and he doesn't know why he continues to talk, when it's clear you're choosing to ignore him.

"I thought so too." you reply gruffly, face scrunched up in disappointment.

"So what happened?" he pries. "Change your mind?"

You shoot him a sour look. "What are you doing, Sam?" you demand. "It's barely been twenty minutes. Whatever happened to 'Why don't you just go?'." you recite his words back to him and he winces. "You didn't want to talk to me before, so I don't want to talk to you now." you say, and it's a little bit childish. You both know it. But that was the thing about the two of you. Where you and Dean meshed because of your similarities, you and Sam often found yourselves in moments of odds.

When Dean pissed you off, all it'd really take is a few hours apart and then you'd both show up with peace offerings and move on as if nothing happened. It wasn't like that with Sam, not in the slightest. He always wanted to push, to dig your emotions out of you. You despised it, almost as much as you hated how he could be such a hypocrite sometimes. Forcing you to bare everything you felt to him, but lashing out at you and Dean whenever things got too much in his head. Sometimes you hated him.

Sometimes you hated both of them.

But most times you adored them, loved them with an intensity that you could never really understand. They were your boys, your best friends. The only family you still had and could trust now. And it was a step up from the family you used to have. Jim, Jack, and Jose could only help you so much. That family only ever left you with headaches and numbness. Dazes that lasted longer than your moments of clarity, and horrible hangovers. It was why you tried so hard with Sam and Dean.

Even when they pissed you off.

Because they saved you from yourself. Showed you there was more to life than drinking away your despair. In return you offered them protection. Someone else to take on the weight of keeping them safe. It was a fair deal. Hunting with them, being a team. They watched you back, and you watched theirs, and you all became better.

"I shouldn't have said it." he says with a sigh. "I don't even know why I did." Sam says, and you know there's more. Lots more he won't say. But you need him to, mostly because you'd been driving yourself sick thinking that he was growing tired of you being around. You were worried that one day you'd have nowhere to go back to. That one day they'd grow tired enough of you and all your tears, and anger, and aggression, and you'd wake up to an empty motel room. Find out the impala was long gone, with you left in the dust.

You think that's why you try to find someone new on every hunt. Why you'd allowed yourself to start drinking a bit more again, why you giggled a little harder at some of the unfunny jokes of the men and women who picked you up at the bars. Because if you had them, had someone, it wouldn't matter if Sam and Dean one day disappeared. You'd be okay, you'd be settled. You'd survive the heartache.

"Don't lie to me, Sam." you reply quietly, and your voice is heady. Sam hadn't even noticed the flask at first, his eyes widening in that way that showed he was worried about you. In your drunk and angry state though, it just looks like disgust. "If you're just gonna do that, you can fucking leave." you insist, and Sam is shocked. "See if I give a damn." and that was another problem with you and Sam. You both weren't the best with confrontation. Sure, you could both lash out, get angry and spew out the things you'd bottled up. But it wasn't like you ever really heard one another out.

When you fought, you both came in with your calculated notions and beliefs of each other. You didn't listen to reason, you listened to how you felt. What you believed to be right. Which meant that in moments like these where you're spewing words like 'See if I give a damn', all it really told Sam was that every thought he ever had about you wanting to get away from him and Dean seemed to be proven right.

"Well if you don't give a damn, then why do you even bother sticking around?" he seethes, and you scoff, head whipping around to fully stare him down. "I mean trust me, we'd never want to hold you back." and he says this part mockingly, and you think you hate him a bit more than you ever have. "Why don't you just leave for good? Why do you stay? Why do you- why do you keep up with any of this?" he demands and you push off the wall, turning your body as you glare up at him.

"Is that what you want? For me to leave for good, Sam?" you question, hands balling into tight fists as Sam's mouth drops open in shock at your question. The obvious answer being absolutely not. "Is that why you've been walking around with a stick up your ass, lashing out, and acting like a fucking toddler, you want me gone? You're a grown man, Samuel, why don't you just grow some balls and fucking say that instead of-" and you scoff because you feel yourself getting all the more angry just looking at him. "God, I don't even know why the hell I even bother with you Winchesters!"

"What's that supposed to mean?"

"It means you drive me fucking crazy!" you erupt, voice picking up. "You know why I'm still here? Why I'm not off having a nice night?" you ask, but he knows it's rhetorical, so he doesn't speak. "Because I felt like shit leaving, knowing that you think I'm better at being gone than helping you when you're upset. I couldn't even think about sleeping with someone else when my friend was sitting at the bar dealing with whatever shit was flying through your head seemingly all by yourself. Because of course Dean wouldn't push you too far unless you were in danger."

And Sam thinks about how Dean hadn't chased him down when he left the bar, and finds himself a bit surprised at how much you pay attention to them both.

"Which meant if you weren't in danger, you wouldn't tell him shit. You'd bottle it up and try to deal with it alone. And I thought how fucked up of me to be thinking about sex when you were obviously really fucked up over something." you huff. "But now, you know what I'm thinking? I'm thinking that I was stupid for getting myself in a position where I care so much about two people who time and time again prove to everyone in their fucking circumference that we're better off leaving you two the fuck alone." you proceed, and Sam's as defensive as ever now. Face growing warm in anger.

"You knew what you were getting into when you decided to tag along." Sam retorts like a child. "Nobody's holding you hostage. Nobody is keeping you here against your will, okay? If we're that horrible to endure than leave. We'll be fine without you, we always are." Sam insists, and you scoff again, this one more disbelieving than the other. "No, I'm serious. You're never around after hunts anyway. If you're so eager to get away from us, if we're too much for you, than why torment yourself any longer? Go."

"Screw you, Sam."

"Screw me? How could this possibly be on me?"

"You're trying so hard to make this my idea." you snap. "But it's not, Sam. I'm still here. Don't you think if I wanted to leave you and your brother to rot that I could've several times over? Despite what you may believe, I have enough self respect to leave a situation I don't want to be in. You're the one being a moody jackass that can't grow the hell up and say what he feels." and you catch yourself. "And excuse me if sometimes I want a chance to feel like a regular fucking person." you proceed. "It's not like the odds of a hunter falling in love and living some cookie cutter life are high."

Sam blinks at that reminder.

"So don't make me feel like shit because you're too scared to let yourself feel even a semblance of normalcy for once." You're turning again, letting yourself lean back against the wall as you down all that's left inside the flask.

"I'm sorry." Sam exhales the words, guilt and aggravation rolling off of him in waves.

"Yeah, well you should be." you retort. "I'm not the enemy here, Sam. And despite what you seem to think of me, I'm not just itching to go off on my own and leave you two behind. You guys are my family. We're in this shit together." you remind him. "But not if you keep like this, Sam. I'm not going to let you push me away. At that point i'd just go." you admit, and it's the truth. The codependency that ran deep between Sam and Dean was not something you'd choose to take on. Even if the thought of leaving them felt like splitting your heart apart and stomping on it, you had to love yourself more.

"I'm not trying to push you away." he insists, and your eyebrow jumps.

"Could have fooled me." you reply and Sam huffs.

"I'm a jackass, okay? I never should have-" and he thinks it was way easier expressing himself back at the bar with Dean. "I shouldn't have said any of it." and it's true, even though it was a constant thought. But that wasn't your problem, his personal issues with being abandoned or better put unstable as far as the people in his life were concerned. "Jesus." and the instant replay of every word he'd spewed at you guts him. Was he really that insecure? That filled to the brim with jealousy that he couldn't express his fears of losing you without lashing out and making you the villain.

God, he'd never felt more like John.

"Be honest with me." you demand. "What the hell's going on with you, Sammy? You're freaking me out, okay? What is it? Are you having nightmares again? More visions?"

"No." he denies plainly. "It's not like that." and while he did still have nightmares and visions, this had nothing to do with why he was in this particular situation with you.

"Then what? You know you can tell me anything."

"Not this."

"Well why not?" you press, and you feel annoyance flaring up again.

"I just can't, alright?"

"Oh, give me a fucking break, Sam!" you sneer. "How can you apologize and then go right back to acting like this?" you say.

"Because I am sorry." he promises. "I'm more sorry than you'll ever know. I'm sorry for what I said, and for talking to you like that, okay? It never should have happened. I shouldn't have ever said it. But this is personal. It's not something you can help."

"So, I'm just supposed to accept that it's always going to be like this?" and he thinks the answer is no. Just as soon as he gets over you, he can go back to normal. But he had no clue when that would be, or how long it would take. "Where you're angry at me?" you clarify, and Sam's immediately turning his stare to you.

"I'm not angry with you, Y/N."

"Then what is it? Are you-" you close your eyes and take in a breath when you start to yell again. "Sam, you have to give me something."

"Why can't you just accept that I can't tell you?" Sam questions as he straightens up, towering over you in the way he seemed to tower over everyone else. Still, you were older than him, intimidating in the way that a hard life seemed to make people. You match his stance, standing straighter as you glare up at him, and he glares down at you. "Why can't you just respect that and let me deal with this on my own?"

"Because I seem to be the only person getting affected by this little mood swing of yours." you remind him. "I'm the one getting the smart remarks, and the attitude, and the cold fucking shoulder. Not Dean, and not anybody else. So obviously your funky attitude has something to do with how you feel about me. So what is it? What did I do?" you ask, and you know you're treading dangerous territory, but you never cared. Angry or not, this was still Sam, your Sam, which meant you'd get him to crack eventually. You were more determined than most.

"You infuriate me!" he finally exclaims. "That's it." he adds, as you stare slack jawed. "You take up space, and make every part of my life difficult. When it was just me and Dean, he was the only thing I had to worry about. I looked out for him, and he looked out for me, and that was it. But then you showed up and you made it so easy to care about you. But now it's not just as simple as caring about you. It's not like Jo and Ellen and Ash where we're like partners. It's not like with Bobby, who's family. Because while I care about them no part of me harps on keeping them safe 24/7."

It takes you a second to recover from his initial words, as the rest spills out of him like a faucet, you find yourself shuffling away from Sam. "But that's all I can think about with you. Making sure you're safe, taking care of you. And sure, Dean thinks about it too, but it's different. It's always been different. And I haven't felt this way since Jess, so that's why it's-it's easier to make you want to leave than handle you deciding one day that you're done with us and disappearing. So I'm sorry, okay? It's not your problem, it's mine." he tells you, and you think you've never been more lightheated.

"And I'll work on it. I'll get better, it'll be okay, and we'll go back to normal eventually. But until I can get a lock on this, on how I feel, I can't be okay with you running off and being with someone new when I want you the way that I want you. But I'd never tell you what to do, or how to cope. So I don't say anything. I never say anything." he breathes the words out and they're painted with aggression and heartache, and it makes your stomach flip in the worst way. "Are you happy now?"

"Sammy..."

"I don't need you to feel bad for me, but now you see why I didn't want to talk about it."

"Sam, you're a coward." you huff out, and he exhales.

"I know."

"And you can't just- you can't just lash out on me... or anyone else just because you have feelings you don't understand." you lecture him.

"I understand my feelings perfectly, Y/N. That's what you and Dean don't ever seem to understand. I know exactly how I feel, and I know exactly what lengths I'd go to." he tells you more seriously than he's been all night.

"What lengths?"

"To protect you, to make sure you were okay. It's not something as simple as me just... wanting to get a few rocks off. Or because we're stuck on the road together, and you're just some pretty girl. I've never had a doubt in my mind that my brother would go to the ends of the world for me. And I'd do the same thing for him." he tells you, and you already knew that. "But now you're included in that. You're someone I take account of, and the things I'd do for you they're not normal, they're not okay."

"Sam..."

"Look, I never said you had to feel the same way. You're the one that pushed. You're the one that asked to know what you did."

"Sammy? You out here?" you both stall at the familiar sound of Dean, who's instantly looking between the both of you with a mixture of relief and curiosity on his face. "What's this? We throwing a party back here?" he questions as you snort out a laugh.

"Hardly." you retort. "You're packing it in early." you comment as Dean offers you a smirk that's so Dean.

"I could say the same for you." and then he's looking to Sam with a knowing glance on his face. "Am I interrupting something?"

"No." Sam says instantly, and Dean looks to you.

"Yes."

"Guess the Ayes have it." he whistles at his brother's expense, clapping him on the shoulder again, as he tosses the keys to Baby up in the air before catching them in his hands. "If you guys aren't done in ten, I'm leaving your asses." and you know he's mostly joking, but still, you feel a flower bomb of appreciation exploding in your chest.

"Wait, De-" Sam starts, only to be ignored as Dean tosses the keys up in the air once more, catching them as he strides off, almost as quickly as he showed up, and Sam's turning to you with a questioning and pensive look on his face. "I don't really see what else there is to talk about." Sam says as you poke him roughly in the chest.

"Cut the crap, Sam. You're not the only person allowed to talk here, alright?" you tell him, and his eyes roll. "Were you even going to give me a chance to say anything back?" you question.

"What's the use, I already know what you're going to say." he tries, and you snort.

"You're a coward, Sam Winchester."

"I think we already covered that." he says dryly, as you shake your head.

"Why didn't you ever say anything? About how you feel?" you pry.

"You said it yourself. Hunters don't get to fall in love and live a cookie cutter life." he reminds you and you shake your head again.

"But you didn't even give me a chance to decide if I even wanted to try. What were you going to do? Ice me out until you forced yourself to feel differently for me? You're that determined to die with your pride?"

"It's not about pride. It's about being realistic, it's not like you ever gave me any sort of indication that feeling this way was alright."

"Sam, you're allowed to feel however you want. It's not my job to tell you if the way you feel for me is okay, because it is." you retort. "Even if I didn't feel the same way." you remind him, as his face seems to tinge with embarrassment. "Lucky enough for you though, doofus. I think there's worse things in the world than having feelings for a Winchester." and it takes it a moment to register on Sam's face, his eyes widening.

"What?"

"Look. I'm not saying it's true love, okay? All the shit we've seen, I don't know if humankind was lucky enough to earn it. But I do know that you're so important to me. Important enough to put everyone else on the backburner. I thought it was clear enough that I love you, Sam. What I don't understand is why you were so scared to tell me the truth." you admit as Sam lets your words float around him like a wave.

"I was scared you'd leave." he admits plainly.

"Sometimes I get scared of that too. That one day you'll both vanish right out of my life." you admit, and it squeezes Sam's heart in his chest. "Maybe that feeling will never fully go away, we can't ever say what'll happen in the future. But I do know that I'm here now." you tell him and you reach out and grab his hand. "And you're here now, okay? So why don't we let that be enough for us for now. If that's what you want." you offer, and Sam looks at you, really looks at you, and thinks he'll love you forever. Almost as much as he hates you for running his mind like it was your own.

"I do. I want that."

"Okay." you squeeze his hand gently. "So can we try again? Without the theatrics and the yelling this time. Just- just tell me what you'd want from me, Sammy."

"I want to be with you." he says it so hurriedly, you can't fight your little smirk. "And I don't know how long it'll last, but I know I'll try for as long as I can to make it work. I know we can't exactly have... an apple-pie life, but- I could be whatever you need me to be. I just know all this hunting stuff, saving people stuff makes a lot more sense when you're doing it with me, okay? And I don't want to lose that-" you don't leave room for much else, tugging him towards you and pouring every bit of how much you care about him into the way you kiss him.

Instantly, he's picking you up by the thighs, letting them wrap around his hips as he kisses you back feverishly. It's almost dizzying, especially as your head smacks the brick wall of the bar, your hands flying from his face, to his hair, and back down again. He thinks he could kiss you forever, and you think you could quite quickly learn to believe in true love. It wasn't conventional, but you knew you'd love him forever, almost as much as you hated him for controlling the beat of your heart as if it was his own.

You were certain if the desperation grew any thicker you'd both be stripped bare right there in the open, but the obnoxious honk, honk, honk of Dean from the driver's seat of the impala pulls you both apart like you'd been electrocuted. "Get a room!" he exclaims, face covered in fax disgust as Sam's hands squeeze politely at your hips as you stare up at him.

"At least we don't have to have the talk with your brother." you offer sheepishly.

"Oh, he'll find a way to force the talk." Sam retorts as you both chuckle nervously. Since you'd met there had always been a difference in the way you were with Dean, and the way you were with Sam, and you think that this new turn in your relationship with Sam would come with a lot of hard work, a lot of work that you'd normally never be inclined to give a chance. But as Sam gingerly places you back on two feet, and you find your knees wobbling just slightly as he nods his head towards the impala, that you would much like he insisted: go to the ends of the world [and everything in between] just to get back to him. which meant in the grand scheme of things, that even if things romantically ended horribly wrong, Sam Winchester was a good risk.

One you'd gladly make for the rest of your life.

Even if he didn't know it yet.

[bambi-kinos]

hey... what do you make of just like starting over and real love? do you think theyre rlly about paul? i think they are, but i struggle to believe john was finally making up his mind like that

Paul almost certainly thinks that (Just Like) Starting Over is about him. He purportedly listened to it on repeat for days right after John died and then there's the "walrus" referenced in the first draft of the lyrics, as well as the line about making love in Paris. I absolutely believe that Paul is the primary recipient of (Just Like) Starting Over.

I don't think it was John making up his mind per se...I think it was more like, John was unhappy with how he had left things with Paul and he was feeling optimistic about their future, so long as they stayed the course and renewed their love. However John is still John, he reached out to May Pang the same year and reconnected with a bunch of people out of the blue. Which is to say that yes, he did want to renew things with Paul and patch things up with him. But he also prepared some back ups in case that didn't work out for him. I think it was Harry Nilsson that received a middle of the night phone call from John where John was really warm to him after being out of touch for years. (Just Like) Starting Over was written with Paul as its true object and in John's heart of hearts I believe he wanted to make a new bond of love with Paul, but I also think that it is written as such that John could tell any of his old flames that "this one's for you" and mean it.

Which brings us to Real Love, I think that Real Love is also intended to be about Paul. However Real Love is a lot older and to quote a random twitter user I saw when Now and Then dropped, "it's another Lennon misery fest." When John wrote the beginnings of Real Love he certainly had Paul on his mind (hence the "lalalala farm" bit in the initial "Real Life" noodling around.) Whatever was going on with John staying in the Dakota, he was clearly longing for Paul and desperately wished things were different. But Real Love lacks the hopeful and anticipatory tone of (Just Like) Starting Over. I think John wanted to do more with Paul than sit in a studio with him again IYKWIM.

Real Love feels a lot more like an expression of John's regrets and how he wished things were different, that he had gone a different way. It actually strikes me as more of a venting song than something John really wanted to polish and bring to the public, "why must we be alone?" is a question John seems to have been asking himself through out the Dakota years. He put himself in this position and he is trying to understand why he did it to himself, even asking seemingly silly and pointless questions like "why am I so alone, why isn't Paul here with me, didn't I hold him in my arms just yesterday?" ('Yesterday' again....I said something wrong now he's gone away....and I don't believe in Yesterday myself....I never wished I had written it....now I long for yesterday....)

But when you're making vent art you don't ask yourself sophisticated questions, you ask yourself really obvious ones that you know the answer to but you've been scared to answer fully because it means accepting that you've known this entire time and haven't done anything about it. The Real Life demo we have ends with "just call him on the phone."

(Just Like) Starting Over is John making his first steps towards a new future that he wants Paul to be a part of while still being uncertain about what that entails. Real Love is John coming to grips with the scale of his loss and bewilderment at how he got here, the intervening years between his successful love affair with Paul vs the drug addled years in the Dakota being a smeared blur.

I don't think John had necessarily made up his mind about Paul. More like he realized his relationship with Yoko had run its course (whether he knew she was a parasite is another question.) That was his chance to be with Paul again.

[shy-urban-hobbit]

Astarion is a full-grown elf gods damnit. He should not be running around with a comfort blanket like some snot nosed child. Or so he thinks.

 

Astarion’s gaze flitted between the fire and the blue blanket clutched in his fingers, if it could still be called that. Rag was a more apt description these days, the scant sections of fabric which were barely clinging together around the multiple holes were so worn in parts they were near transparent, the damp stench of the manor still clinging stubbornly despite having been exposed to woodsmoke and fresh air daily for months, as if it had seeped into its very being. Astarion mused that in that respect they weren’t so different – no longer suited for their intended purpose with the memories of Cazador and that place clinging, no matter how much time and distance was placed between them. And then he snorted at the absurdity of comparing himself to a moth-eaten scrap.

“Just toss it in and be done with it.” He chided himself, he’d bought countless victims to his (former) master and disposed of bodies without blinking. This should not be this hard damnit!

“Astarion, everything alright?”

Oh for goodness sake. “Perfectly fine, love.” He said, turning his head to smile at Gale as the wizard made his way into the Tower’s library, making sure to keep his hands out of sight. Gale tilted his head at him appraisingly.

“You don’t seem so sure. I don’t mean to pry, it’s just that I’ve noticed you always look to the right when you’re nervous or embarrassed. You don’t have to divulge anything you don’t wish to but if it’s something I may be able to help with, I’d like to.”

Sometimes Astarion forgot how genuinely earnest his lover could be, and if he were being honest with himself, this was nowhere near the worst thing they’d caught one another doing (Astarion attempting to bite Gale that first week on the road would always be at the top of his list, no matter how much Gale insisted otherwise). Sighing, he turned to face Gale fully, hands holding out the blanket, “It’s nothing to worry your pretty head over. I was only attempting to dispose of this only I…seem to be having some difficulty.”

Gale moved forwards, standing next to him by the fireplace and saying nothing as he waited for Astarion to decide whether he wanted to elaborate or not.

“It’s from…before. The only thing I managed to grab before the tadpoles, my last link to my time as Cazador’s cur.” He gave a humourless huff of a laugh, “It’s so easy, just drop it into the flames and it’s done and yet, I can’t seem to do it.”

“Because it’s yours?” Gale guessed, thinking back on what Astarion had told him about Cazador’s feelings on his spawn having any personal possessions. Even clothes had been shared (there was a reason Astarion and his siblings had become so adept at sewing, some nights his well-being for the foreseeable future would quite literally depend on repairing or altering an ill-fitting garment in a matter of minutes), “It was the only thing in that place that was solely yours?”

Astarion seemed to consider this a moment before nodding, “Truly pathetic, isn’t it.”

“Oh darling, it really isn’t.” Gale said, slowly wrapping his arms around the vampire’s waist, “It’s like those displaced Tiefling children, do you remember? They were clinging to those old rag toys like lifelines because they were familiar, comforting. They were a piece of home.”

Astarion gave a more forceful snort bordering on a snarl, “Why on earth would I get sentimental about the place that was my prison for two centuries, and exactly Gale, children. I’m an adult and a killer and have been for centuries, I shouldn’t be reliant on something as asinine as a comfort item!” He was either ignoring or unaware of the fact that he was running the blanket through his fingers as he said this.

“If it works, then what’s the harm? Comfort can come from surprising places.”

Astarion said nothing, choosing to go back to staring into the flames.

“Wait here a moment, don’t move.”

It was a couple of minutes later, Gale returned to the library, revealing something from behind his back with a flourish, “This little madam was in my pack for our entire journey.”

Astarion could only stare at the small, moth-eaten toy cat no bigger than Gale’s palm. It was hard to tell what colour it had been to start off with and one of the glass eyes had been crudely replaced with a button at some point, “Gale?”

“My parent’s first attempt at pacification when they refused my entreaties for a kitten. Even after Tara came into my life, I couldn’t bear to part with it and as I got older, it started accompanying me whenever she couldn’t.”

“You mean to tell me the entire time we spent fighting gods, monsters and everything in-between, you had a childhood toy in your pocket.”

“In my pack.” Gale corrected, “Although, she started off in my pocket so you’re not technically wrong but anyway. While I admit I wasn’t about to broadcast her existence, it didn’t have any negative effect on my contributions during our travels, and I’m hoping it doesn’t make you think any less of me now.”

Astarion smirked at the little cat, “It’s sort of like you. Charming in a soft, bedraggled sort of way.” The observation held none of the bite it would have fresh off the Nautaloid.

“And this is stubborn and resilient as hell, much like its owner.” Gale said gently grasping the corner of the blanket from where it dangled in Astarion’s hand, “If you feel you want to get rid of it then by all means. I’ll even do it for you if you wish. But, there’s absolutely no shame in wanting to hold onto it for a little longer.”

Astarion hummed in thought, running a finger delicately over one of the cat’s cloth ears, “Maybe just a little longer.”

From that night onwards, when the bed wasn’t occupied by a wizard and his vampire, a well-loved cloth cat was sat on top of the duvet, wrapped in the remnants of a worn, blue blanket.

[capricornlevi]

(wc 759)

"you're gonna make me look good?"

jean's question is delivered with that annoying crooked smile, his jersey hugging tight across his chest as he stands with his hands clasped behind his back. he arches an eyebrow expectantly as you fiddle with the camera, trying to fix the settings that seem to have adjusted themselves without your knowledge.

as captain of the soccer team, he's the last player whose picture you need to capture for the college yearbook, and also as the captain, he brings with him an exceptionally smug but annoyingly charming aura that threatens to penetrate your stony resolve.

no, you force yourself to keep a straight face, it's bad enough that you got roped into this gig for free as a favour to your professor, you don't need to start stretching out these interactions any longer.

at that, you set the camera back on the tripod and lean closer, making sure the framing is right.

"okay, smile?" you say, halfway between an instruction and a question.

"i am smiling," he retorts instantly.

"smile ... i don't know, properly."

he winces with mock offence, screwing up whatever hope you had of getting the picture in one shot and finishing up for the day.

"properly?" he queries incredulously.

you sigh, closing your eyes so you don't roll them.

"professionally, then. formally. whatever what you want to do it."

"not open to me doing a silly one?"

"i'll give you one guess on that."

in the viewfinder you see jean's face twist back into that now-familiar smile, eyes crinkling at the corners, the light brown of his hair contrasting again the royal blue of the drape behind him.

(the hall of the gym isn't the best place to set up an impromptu photo studio, but you found an old team flag bundled up in a supply cupboard that made for a decent background)

"okay, okay, i'll be professional. showing my leadership qualities, and so on."

"great," you say flatly, focusing the camera.

"really demonstrating my abilities to represent the school."

"sounds good."

"recording this moment for future generations to come, a piece of living history--"

"do you ever stop talking?"

your interruption was intended to throw him off his tangent, hopefully to buy enough time for you to actually get the picture, but all it does is make him throw his head back with a laugh.

"i can if you want me to."

"if you wouldn't mind," you mumble, feeling a slight pang of guilt at how hard you came in when he's clearly just trying to lighten the mood.

still, you've been here since seven this morning -- soccer practice is early early, you've discovered -- and all you want in the world is to make your way home to collapse back into bed.

"ok, i'll shut up for a minute. if you can answer something for me first."

you take a steadying breath, temper starting to simmer. "what is it?"

"can you actually tell me if i look good?"

against all odds, he shocks you out of your sullen silence.

you pull away from focusing at the camera display to stare wordlessly at jean, the seriousness of the question still pinging around in your head.

he's flirting, obviously, but the question was delivered with sincerity.

"meaning?" you ask. no harm in clarifying, plus you're not entirely sure if he's looking for an ego boost or just asking whether his jersey is too wrinkled or his hair out of place.

"do i look good?"

you swallow thickly, avoiding the temptation to give him a once over. "you look fine."

"fine won't make the history books," he objects; again, with a hint of earnestness that you could find amusing in another setting.

"whatever. you look good, then."

"hair okay?"

"it's a mullet, so --"

he clutches his chest as if wounded, fully grinning now. "no cheap shots at the mullet while I'm in such a vulnerable position, im begging you."

again, your curiosity forces you to engage.

"vulnerable how?"

still smiling, eyes fixed on you, he answers.

"well, talking to a pretty girl, for one thing. secondly, pretty sure she's sworn off soccer players for good after this morning, so ... uphill battle, and all that. plus ive had a crush on her since she was selected as photographer for the championship final last year, so even more's at stake, y'know."

you pause. no words leave you, nothing even resembling a response. you're sure your mouth has actually dropped open.

brow arched again, jean tilts his head forward expectantly.

"aren't you gonna take the picture?"

[askcarlislecullen]

Will you and your family all live together one day again? Maybe even anytime soon?

You know, I very rarely answer questions that are at the top of my inbox. These days, I sift through them with a good bit of discrimination and some of them sit for years and still others I never deal with. But this is a provocative question which the asker may not realize is very timely, as Esme and I are preparing our home to be closed for a month while we make what has now become an annual sojourn to Europe. So as we pack, and prepare gifts, and reminisce, and think about the time soon to come with our children less than two weeks from now, we have also been asking ourselves this rather thorny question.

And I think—I think—I am at peace with the fact that the answer is likely no.

I never intended to be the leader of a large coven. No one is more surprised than I that seven others found fit to stay with me all these many years. That those I turned chose to stay, and that two others saw reason to travel and hold out for years to find us, and that my daughter-in-law chose to join us in this very life will never stop being surprising to me.

We've lived in many configurations in the little over a century we've lived as a coven of two up to a coven of eight. As a man and his brother in law, as a man and wife and her brother, as a couple and their boarders, as two couples and their brother. It wasn't until Alice and Jasper joined us that we even broached choosing cover stories that more closely resembled the family we imagined ourselves to be, and even then, some frequent and sudden moves in the early days there necessitated that we take different covers and often, live apart.

Then came those intense seven years over the turn of the last decade, in which our sense of family was abruptly sharpened as if by a gravitational pull by raising our miracle child. We got to experience for the first time the visceral realness of existing as parents, aunts, uncles, grandparents. And if I had to put a finger on it, I suspect it was that moment, of for once, not playacting at being a family, that allowed our family to evolve.

The distance forced upon us by the pandemic was painful, I won't lie. But this new reality where we can travel when we choose to, when our adult children or our adult granddaughter and her fiancé freely come to us for a spell and then go their way, is strangely healthy.

I lay a great deal of blame for the dysfunction of our family dynamic squarely at my own feet; when I turned Edward I needed badly his adoration and his unwavering love. I needed someone to guide, to counsel, to bring into manhood. But there was always a part of me that was a little bit afraid of letting him fully step into that manhood, holding an iron grip, terrified that if my child was no longer a child, I would lose the identity that a century ago saved my life. And without consciously intending to, I arranged everyone else so that I wouldn’t have to let that go.

Isabella and Renesmee changed that. When Edward became a husband, and so soon after, a father himself, our relationship shifted. And I found that in adding "Renesmee's grandfather" to my identity, much to my relief, I didn't cease being "Edward's father" but that there was suddenly room for me to live even more fully into being "Esme's husband" and also sometimes just "Carlisle."

I put up less of a façade with my children now. It is easier to admit to them when I also am afraid or worried or sad. They in turn don't seem to worry as much about pleasing or disappointing me. We feel free to treasure one another's company, and, when we feel we can't treasure it, to be apart.

Now does this mean the ten of us will never again be under one roof? Hardly. For one, we already regularly do this for weeks at a stretch twice a year now, in the summer and in the winter. To say nothing of the fact that time periods which are long for humans are devastatingly short for us—in the future, we might choose to live together for years, or even a decade or more, who knows. But we will do so with the changed understanding that the arrangement is temporary, for however long "temporary" is.

And I suspect that is, in fact, the way we should've thought of it all along.

[novorehere]

Hey guys, just a little announcement. I will be making a number of my older fandom posts and responses to asks private soon, (primarily from 2022 and older) meaning they won’t be able to be seen or reblogged. If anyone wants to save something they sent a while back, I would do it now.

Don’t worry, I’m not deleting any of my writing. I have no intentions to delete my tumblr and make a new one, but a fresh start with this blog would bring me a lot of peace of mind.

Also I would like to give my sincerest and heartfelt apologies to anyone who has sent me messages or asks this past year. I have asks piled up from a year and a half ago in my askbox as well as unanswered DMs, many from good friends. I have over a hundred reblogs from people I respect in my drafts that I’ve procrastinated posting. It’s gotten to the point where this blog has become a source of guilt and anxiety for me. And I really don’t want it to be that way forever.

Opposite Day hasn’t been updated in over a year, but I still think about it daily. I’m still very passionate about it and fully intend to finish the series. I have another project planned for the future which I’ve been working on as well. Once I make myself a shiny new masterlist and pinned post, I know I’ll feel a lot better about the direction I want to take this blog in the future. Thank you to all my friends who have given me nothing but support, you know who you are.

Wishing you all a very merry holiday season!

Stay cozy, -Kate

[allieebobo]

CT:OS Update #6 is fully available for early-release folks!

Pt. 1 and Pt. 2 of the update (Early Release) are out for ko-fi supporters (link)

Thank you so much for supporting the game and playing :) I am so excited to share this with you guys!

Summary

Pt. 1 (released a week ago)

Attend your first photography club meeting and potentially… have a moment with G in the dark room [smooching may be involved!😘] (achievement up for grabs)

Hang out with D and G at a café, ☕️ and have a run-in with Felix! [it can be as tame as you want, or a little hostile.]

Play an additional (mini) challenge match—against Deepal, Jacks, Max, or Akimi.

Find out if you’re officially in the Top 6 🥇(meaning you’ll play in the singles matches during the season)!

Short Sam POV scene, after they move into college!

Pt. 2 (released 17 Apr 2023)

Chat with Max and Blake about who you want your partner to be.

Play two doubles matches—One with Tobin as your partner, against Rayyan and Jacks [Yes, you can beat Rayyan, at last!] 🎾 and another one with Rayyan as your partner against Tobin and Jacks!

Find out who your doubles partner for the season is! Rayyan, Tobin, and Emerson are all possibilities, and they will all have their cliff-hanger-y reactions to the news. No points for guessing who is… not happy 👀. [This could involve a confrontation with Rayyan, or a quiet walk with Tobin.]

Public release dates (Pt. 1 will be out 22 Apr, and Pt. 2 will be out 29 Apr—to give me some time to edit!)

Extras

Chapter banners are up! (Let me know what you think—whether you love it or hate it, as I'm still toying around with the design!)

In-game cheats have finally been coded (Do let me know if you have trouble with either of these.)

Skip matches (with a password once you’ve played the match once)

Beast mode (where every choice you make will be automatically successful!)

Earlier chapters have also been edited based on beta tester comments, and to streamline the content a little. [E.g. the mini weekend ‘dates’ with Tobin and Rayyan (to the library & on a run) have been shifted—but it’s simply a rearrangement of content so that it works better.]

Future patches

I am still working through beta-tester feedback and other edits, but wanted to get the update out to supporters first, as promised! You will see improvements to the chapter over the next week / two weeks or so.

For e.g., password functionality will be edited such that you can skip matches and pick if you won/lost (rather than have two separate passwords).

As always, feedback, messages, bug catches etc. are greatly greatly appreciated. You can send 'em here, to my Tumblr, or to the COG forum thread :) This chapter (because it's early release) is not yet beta-tested, so I will be going in to edit it further :) It'll only get better!

P.S. So sorry for the delay, I had a last-minute change of heart with some of the final scenes, but I did add some content I hadn't intended to (for this update), so I hope that makes up for it!

Love you guys!! <3

- Allie

[666writingcafe]

Some Time Later

Lucifer (The Angel)

I've been assigned to patrol the woods alone this afternoon, and I have to say, I'm grateful. I don't get to be by myself very often. Some of that is due to choices I've made; after all, I've taken six angels under my wing, pun half-intended.

But there's something on my mind that none of them would be able to understand. Or rather, a person.

The Demon Prince is trying to fix the relationship between our realm and his. Originally, Michael was going to be the representative that went down there, but it got assigned last minute to me. After spending time with the prince, it makes me wonder if Michael would feel the same about him as I do if he were in my place.

The prince is kinder than some of the angels. I originally dismissed it as him simply practicing diplomacy, but he seems genuine in his efforts to get to know me as a person. He doesn't care about titles, instead focusing on character. Despite my less than stellar behavior when we first met, he still insists on becoming an ally.

Not just the Celestial Realm's, but my ally.

"I don't know what happened back there. I haven't felt that way about him in a really long time."

Great. Someone else is in the woods. I hold back a groan, knowing that I'll have to confront them. So much for my alone time.

"I think this place is doing weird things to all of us." Another voice.

"Did something happen to you, too?" The first voice...it sounds familiar.

"I feel like I'm behaving more like a demon than a human. First, there was the cover story for our appearance that I pulled out of my ass, and then I very nearly went all Asmo on Simeon when we were looking for Belphie earlier."

"Like, are we talking sexually? Magically?" The second voice sighs.

"Magically, Satan. I'm pretty sure having sex in the Celestial Realm is akin to heresy." I mean, they're not entirely wrong. But that's not important right now.

Satan...that's the name I've given to the anger that's become a permanent fixture inside my head. At first, it was just an emotion, but then it started talking. Or rather, screaming. At first, its noises were incoherent, but then I started hearing words in a voice that was not my own.

A voice that sounds eerily similar to the first trespasser.

"We have to get out of here," he tells his companion. "There's no telling what will happen if we..." He trails off as his eyes meet mine. Immediately, he tenses up, appearing to freeze in place.

"What's wrong?" Satan maintains eye contact, and the human follows his gaze. "Oh. This is bad. Really bad."

I step out of my makeshift hiding spot, making myself fully visible to them.

"Well, this is rather interesting," I remark, putting on an air of authority. "I should capture the two of you and not release you for a good long while."

"Please don't," the human quickly replies. "We don't mean any harm. If you can just help us find Simeon, I'll promise we'll be out of your hair." They seem terrified, but at least they're moving. Satan, on the other hand, hasn't budged an inch.

"If I was Michael or Raphael, your pleas would mean nothing. Thankfully, I'm only interested in talking." I focus my attention on Satan. "After all, it's not every day one sees the physical manifestation of their wrath."

"I was there even back then?" Satan whispers, confirming my earlier suspicions.

"You've been around from the moment I took Mammon in." My statement shocks Satan. "Your presence implies our separation at some point in the future. Assuming that you're a demon, that means that I must have fallen all the way down to the Devildom, correct?"

After a moment's hesitation, he nods his head.

"Along with the five angels you consider part of your family."

"Six," I correct.

"One doesn't survive the journey. Not entirely."

"What do you mean, not entirely?"

"If you knew who it was, then you'd end up altering the timeline," the human interrupts. "As it is, you know way more than you should."

"That's one way of looking at it, I suppose," I tell them. "I see it as preparing for the inevitable." They groan at my response.

"Barbatos is going to kill me," they mutter. Before I can question how they know the prince's butler, they take a deep breath and look straight at me.

"We can answer any questions you have, but you need to help us find Simeon. Not your Simeon, but ours. He and Satan got in a heated argument, and he went off in the opposite direction to hopefully try to calm down. Is there a spot here that he feels comfortable hiding in? One where he feels he won't be found easily?"

"There is a place, but it's a bit of a hike from here."

"Good enough. Let's go."

[3ofpents]

Mothman Moth Wings // Fabric Design for @shapeshiftersvt and The Cryptid Collection

It's time to talk about my Mothman fabric design!

This was another fabric design where I didn't have a poster yet to pull design elements from, so I was working entirely from scratch. I actually designed two different Mothman fabrics and fully intended to illustrate both of them, but then our whole household got covid and my entire workflow shut down and my design schedule got thrown off. I may or may not have adapted the second design to a bonus drop that may or may not be coming soon. But this is the one that Eli and I both really wanted for The Cryptid Collection, Eli especially because they'd already designed their Mothman runway look to incorporate a cape made with this fabric.

When I was brainstorming designs, the big thing I was focused on was how to utilize the common visual shorthand for Mothman — a black humanoid figure with moth-like wings and big red eyes — without unintentionally encroaching on someone else's interpretation. It did not take me long to decide against depicting Mothman literally and to remember that the coolest looking moth wings almost always have a pair of false eyes on them.

I wanted a very sooty look, like I had in my head the story of the moths in London during the Industrial Revolution whose wings got darker in theory because the sudden extreme rise in the amount of smoke and coal in the environment darkened the bark of the trees that the moths hung out on. I didn't want it black because I still wanted the pattern to be visible so that you really got the effect of the moth wings.

I opted for more of a blood red with the eyes just to keep that kind of broody, vampiric vibe too. It is plenty bright and obvious amongst all the greys.

There might ... also ... be a bit of an easter egg ... for fans of a certain game ... thinking about ... how ... dreams ... and manipulating people's dreams ... to try and save them ... is a big part ... of Mothman's mythos ...

I actually had to go through like two rounds of unofficial proofing to get this final version of it. When I say "unofficial", I mean that I went through Spoonflower's digital proofing process, we ordered a couple of yards in different fabrics, and when we got them, we discovered we were victims of the reason you should really do a physical proof: The colors were way too dark. Which makes perfect sense! It looked fine on my laptop screen, but my laptop screen is a giant LED light. A yard of fabric isn't. So what I saw as pretty good detail on my screen, just ended up being mostly undefined black blob when it was printed. So I lightened the colors a bit.

Then, when orders started coming in for binders and sports bras, we realized that the eyes were set too close to the edge of the fabric to accommodate multiple sizes. So I moved the eyes in to the center of "wings". Which also proved to be better for the cape too, which got remade with the new print.

As frustrating as it was to, like, go a couple of weeks thinking the print's good and finished, and then hear from Eli that there's something wrong, fix it, then go another couple of weeks thinking it's good and finished, and then hear from Eli that there's something else wrong, and fix it ...

I'm really pleased with this design. I don't think it's exactly what I had in my head at first conception? But part of the reason it changed so much was just the medium it was designed for. It was a really practical education in how a piece can change from digital art to rendering in a different medium. Like, I knew that was a risk in theory, but it helps to see it happen and understand why. Now I have more knowledge about how to avoid it in future projects.

As I mentioned in the last post, if you'd like your own chest binder or sports bra in this fabric like the ones pictured above, you can find them here (along with the poster print) on the Shapeshifters website.

If you'd like to purchase the fabric for your own sewing projects, you can do so through our Spoonflower shop. There are three different sizes there — small, medium, and large. The large is a single pair of wings that takes up the entire yard; the medium is two sets of wings across the width of the yard; the small has three sets across the width of the yard. Though keep in mind that these were designed with Spoonflower's sport lycra in mind, which is wider than some of their other fabric options. For fabrics under 56" wide, one or more of the wings may get cut off, so you may want to take that into consideration when you're choosing which size you want.

[ultramori]

Let's do this one more time

FOR THOSE WHO CAME IN LATE. I'm an OFF fan and I originally intended on giving some Elsen personalities as a way to work more with OFF'S environment but then got way too carried away making their personalities that they're fully fleshed out characters except for 5 and 15 (lmao). So here's a lore dump for those interested and have no idea why I've been so obsessed with these little guys for the longest time. They're just Elsen OCs right? WRONG. :]. Warning, stuff like death, suicide, substance abuse, sex, and other icky stuff are casually mentioned but aren't in detail.

And then last but not least, there's Elsen 16/Therapist. He's an official ECU Elsen made by the one and only @bludscrewz, of which they can elaborate on his personality and... unique way of getting here themself since it's still technically their little guy. I love him to bits though and he's very fun to personally characterize

And that's all she wrote! Sorry I infodumped so much, I love these guys so so much and they each have several layers to them........ If you like these characters too, make sure to check my YouTube channel since I upload content sometimes, I suggest checking out Awful Microphone and that dumbass 7 animation I made today especially!! One day I might get more into each ECU AU and/or additional Elsen OCs that aren't officially ECU Elsen but still exist alongside them... But that's another post. (Also I'm planning on making a really big ECU project in the future hint hint nudge nudge) Thank you for reading this far, that was a lot of words. Needed to get this out of my system for a while because, as you may know, these guys mean so much to me!!!! My pride and joy except for Elsen 7 he can go fuck himself

[aphroditelovesu]

Okay thanks! So here's a long one (my poor brain lol, I should be writing on a story but here I am)

So here's my thinking:

Our girlie had finally fully fallen in love with Alexander, despite his possessive and violent streak, She's happy and her two babies are toddlers now. Yes, she missed some things from the future and her family oh how she would love for her parents to meet her twins but she was happy that was until Alexander met the younger, prettier Miss Roxanna and married her, Miss Girlie still young but is not 20 years old anymore and has kids now. It didn't get to her at first, she knew she was number one but Alexander began to make more time for Roxay and less for her. Roxanna wasn't mean per say but she would brag about her beauty and how well Alexander treated her, the gifts she gets to anyone who would listen. He would take turns sleeping in bed with them more so Roxanna. The nights she slept alone she would cry, from the pain of being away from home, from being abandoned

Everything hurt especially when Alexander took Roxanna on an expedition to conquer another kingdom that lasted a year and they came back with a baby on Roxy's hip, Girlie's children seemed so taken by their new sibling and their 'Second mother'. She didn't think things could get worse after a night of sex with Alexander, Roxanna found out that she was from the future that she so foolishly would write down in a secret journal she was sure was hidden well. Roxanna was gonna tell Alexander it was in her eyes. It left no choice but for girlie to run.

She ran far and fast in the night only stopping until her feet were bleeding and the second home she knew was nothing but a tiny Castle. She fell to her knees, clenching the bark of a tree and looking up at the stars that light the sky, cursing at the god's cruelty, finally making everything feel alright. What made her think it was a blessing in disguise was just lore to a painful trick. She sobbed, begged for the gods to show her mercy, to take her home to her real home, and away from this.

So they did, she awoke in her dorm bed like it never happened, like Everything that had happened was a dream, She knew it wasn't but to stop from missing her friends she made, her husband, and her kids, she received it as such. she lived the life she was supposed to have.

It worked after a while until a familiar sickness plagued her.

She prayed to the gods that what she thought wasn't it but the + sign on the pregnancy tests proved her theory. She was pregnant with Alexander the Great's baby in the 20th century.

I agree that you should be writing a story, but I'm glad I can read your thoughts! :)

I like your thinking, although I plan to make the situation different. Roxanna would have been around sixteen years old in the real story when she met Alexander and apparently twenty when she married him. And our girl's age is not stated, but I assume they would be the same age or similar ages. But for reasons of time and the fanfic itself, I'm going to change Roxy's age.

The relationship between the two will be explained when they first meet, but they get off to a tense start, in part because of Roxanna. Will they become friends? Maybe, but that's difficult given Roxanna's jealous and possessive nature and that's canon.

And Roxanna will love Alexander, she will fall in love with him. And Alexander is not in love with her, he is in love with our girl.

And then there's the whole issue of succession and pregnancy. Y/n will get pregnant first, I've already decided that and this pregnancy, my friend, will cause A LOT. Not just between Roxanna and Y/n but between the generals. Especially Perdiccas.

And, oh, the relationship of the twins and Roxanna's son will be described, and dare I say it, will be strained. Mainly because I intend to make the fanfic have more than one ending.

Oh, oh… Y/n pregnant with Alexander will be complicated, especially in the 21st century. Can you predict the drama and all the chaos? Even more so when Alexander moves into the 21st century.

Our girl desperately needs a psychologist.

I enjoyed reading your thoughts and feel free to send me more or any requests for a love letter or prompt or even concepts! I love reading your thoughts and theories!

~ Lady L

[darkonekrisrewrite]

The Lov’s bonds with each other are all they have + Dabi Recovery Theories

(Second Side Meta) (Spoiler warning, short meta + theories)

It doesn’t really matter if the Lov inner relationships are unhealthy or if they encourage their worse traits because they don’t have anyone else but each other, even at this current point in the manga.

Excluding Dabi, maybe.

Shigaraki’s family is dead, Toga’s parents were horrible and Spinner’s family was presumably close to the same as he never mentioned them or at least they’re not present in his life.

And while we don’t know much about Compress’s family other than his Grandfather being a “peerless Thief”, the fact that he wound up in the Lov implies that he doesn’t have much, if anything, going for him either.

The individual members of the Lov have nothing to go back to and no one from their pasts that they could depend on in any circumstances.

So the small and pitfall ridden bonds that they share with one another are their only human connection and what connects them to their own humanity.

(I don’t really have any concrete proof that this ^ scene isn’t a manipulation on Dabi’s part but the art framing and overall plot relevance of the scene heavily implies that it isn’t a manipulation but genuine in its sentiment.)

Showing tears for others (Toga), their loyalty to others (Spinner and compress), and that despite everything they’re still themselves (Dabi and hopefully in future coming chapters Shigaraki too).

(Forgot to put this scene in earlier Meta, Spinner loyalty ^ here)

Whether these sentiments and actions have a good result is nearly irrelevant, as the actions and feelings themselves drive the Lov on the only path to survival that is currently available to them while at the same time showing that they do still have many forms of Love inside them.

And the path that they’re currently on is still definitely the only path that could have a chance of them surviving, because the Hero Kids are not where they need to be in the saving department yet.

(This ^ does not inspire confidence.)

Unless it’s made clear that when the hero kids say they intend to stop/save their respective villains, they mean not only from death but also from being locked up to rot in prison forever, and they’re willing to actually fight in anyway that’s needed to make sure that doesn’t happen, the hero kid’s intentions don’t mean anything.

Because obviously throwing the Lov in prison isn’t saving them, there’s no way the hero kids can save the villain’s hearts from outside of a metal box (a key theme of saving in Bnha is saving the Heart).

That’s not even saving the Lov’s lives either really, because that’s just another form of killing them slowly and depending on perspective, with even more cruelty.

Dabi is both different and similar, as he does still have his family that does care about him but his future with them is still very uncertain.

They all came together to save Touya and each other which is good but Natsuo then saying that things will be “Hell” from now on, whatever that means, leaves Dabi’s fate on pretty much one of only two paths.

With Hero Society or with the Todoroki Family.

It can’t be both, because after everything that’s happened and the parts Dabi played in trying to take down the current system, Hero society won’t let him be saved in any way that could really count as saving.

Dabi Recovery Theories

Personally, what I think should happen, if the Todoroki’s are really intending to follow through on saving Touya and making sure that he can make a full(ish) recovery, is fake his death.

Someone as connected/wealthy as Endeavor must have access to private medical facilities, someplace they could stash Touya to keep him alive.

And with some heroes loyal to Endeavor or Shoto, or if they’re capable of exiting the area themselves with the help of the rest of the Todoroki family, take Touya and escape, hiding him there while saying that the villain Dabi fully incinerated himself in the near explosion.

Dabi is dead to the world but Touya can live and heal.

It’s pretty clear from the framing that Touya will live but for how exactly he would survive with his current injuries and fully recover, I have three theories.

The first theory being that with the right medical attention, Dabi could simply survive more or less as is.

A simple thought but plausible, because excluding one of his arms and some outer muscle lost, Dabi’s injuries aren’t so much worse than what he already went through and survived as a child.

As long as his insides aren’t burned up (which they aren’t thanks to the appearance of his dormant Ice Quirk), he should be able to survive with medical attention.

And for making a full recovery (maybe not exactly a ‘Full recovery’ in this case as while they could feasibly replace his lost skin, the burned muscle might be different story) prosthetic limbs are pretty common in Bnha’s world, with even Compress being able to get his hands on a metal arm while on the run with the Lov.

The second theory is using Eri’s rewind Quirk, using medical equipment to ensure Dabi survives long enough for Eri’s horn (her power) to regrow and rewind Dabi to a state before he was so severely burned.

This is another simple solution (personally not a fan of this one) but entirely possible, although the heroes continually using Eri to solve their injuries/problems is a bit sketch (even the heroes admit that), so there is one very interesting theory left I can think of.

The Third theory: The heroes (specifically Endeavor) could try to use the imprisoned Doctor Garaki and the high-end Nomu to save and heal Dabi.

By transferring the high-end Nomu’s regeneration quirk (something all the high-ends have, implying that the power can be replicated and transferred) to Dabi, using the doctor’s knowledge and previous experience of “grafting quirks” onto other beings (the Doctor said he could accomplish this action even without the AFO Quirk).

As for how this scenario would be possible, Endeavor would finally have to step up as a Father instead of as a hero, in fact risking his life/status as a hero.

Either by forcefully taking the Doctor and the Nomu from Prison himself or by leveraging his status as the Number one hero (what’s left of it) to force this plan to happen for Dabi’s sake.

And I personally think that this would be a great ending to Endeavor’s story as a hero, if he truly does regret everything he did.

Endeavor risking or sacrificing everything he personally has left (his hero existence) in the present to help the Son he chose not to show up for in the past, finally putting Touya first to fully save him from the flames.

That seems like good narrative storytelling to me.

[obsidiancreates]

The Second Chance Of The Third Age (Part 4)

“Right, before we head out, one thing.” Bilbo kisses Thorin as they both wake before the sun even rises. “I’ve got some letters to write, and a statement to make down at the market.”

“Indeed?”

“I’m putting Frodo and Sam’s fathers in charge of Bag End while I’m gone- hopefully it means Frodo and Sam will still grow up together, without Drogo and Primula dying and me adopting him.”

Thorin looks more than a little lost, but he nods. He gives Bilbo another kiss and Bilbo goes to his study to begin writing letters.

—-------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

“AHEM!” Bilbo stands on a picnic table set out in the middle of the market, Gandalf and Thorin standing nearby and the rest of The Company (poorly) hiding nearby to watch the spectacle.

All eyes in the market turn with no small amount of shock as Bilbo Baggins, an altogether respectable if not slightly odd Hobbit, demands their attentions.

“I just wanted to announce, in case this takes quite a long time-” as he knows it will, “-that I’m going, on a very long holiday!” He gestures at Gandalf, who is still taller than him even as Bilbo stands on the table, and then he gestures at Thorin. “As you can see, Gandalf, the old friend of my family, has come by with an offer on behalf of this here very fine dwarven gentleman, and I’ll be traveling with them for the foreseeable future.”

The murmuring among the market is equal parts horrified and intrigued, and the undercurrent of it all is confusion.

“I’m announcing this because I’m leaving the care and ownership of Bag End to Hamfast Gamgee and my cousin, Drogo, while I’m away!” Bilbo looks across the market and levels a gaudily dressed and dark-haired Hobbit lass with a glare that could kill a dragon. “And if I return to hear anyone has been harassing them or kicking up a fuss about ‘proper ownership’, I’ll handle it personally.”

Lobelia, all the way across the market, returns Bilbo’s glare with one of equal venom and fire. Bilbo ignores it, and promptly hops down from the table.

The first to approach him, somewhat hesitantly, is Mr. Worrywart. “So ah, Mr. Bilbo… what brought this on, then?”

“Suppose I’m finally taking after my mother’s side,” Bilbo says, brushing off his coat. 

“Suppose you are… has it got uh, anythin’ t’ do with that there wizard?” Worrywart whispers the last part.

Bilbo leans in and whispers back, “Oh, completely. He’s cast a spell of ‘Bring Out The Tookishness’ on me.” He straightens up as Mr. Worrywart lets out a soft, half-believing laugh.

As soon as Bilbo turns to leave, Thorin and Gandalf with him, the market becomes positively abuzz with gossip. Gandalf sweeping away strange little Mr. Baggins? On an adventure with dwarves?! And look at that, why there were a dozen more hiding in the reeds by the little river! And is that dwarf there holding Mr. Baggins’s hand?! What a scandal, what an uproar, that Gandalf is quite the disturber of the peace is he not? Who’s to say Mr. Baggins will return at all!

Bilbo has a self-satisfied smile and a pep to his step as they head back up the hill to finish grabbing their belongings and get going. 

“Was tha’ worth it?” Bofur asks, glancing back at the market and all the looks still being shot the group’s way. “You’re still comin’ back, if it’s like last time.”

“Oh, I fully intend on living in Erebor with Thorin,” Bilbo says without even a shred of uncertainty. “I’ll move back only if Drogo and Primula pass on again, and with any luck it won’t happen with the destruction of The Ring so early on.”

“Why would that matter to their deaths?” Dori looks a little nervously at Bilbo.

“Gandalf told us more than once that none of it was chance- I was meant to find The Ring, and Frodo was meant to destroy it. It would only go to him if he was my heir, and he was my heir because Drogo and Primula died and I took the boy in. Ring gone, no need for Frodo to carry it, no need for Drogo and Primula to die.” Bilbo nods to himself.

“We are meddling with fate in ways we cannot begin to comprehend, then.” Gandalf rubs his forehead.

“Unless the Valar sent us all back.”

“Which we cannot confirm!”

“We also can’t deny it.”

“Don’t waste all your riddles on our wizard,” Bofur pipes up. “You’ve still got a… whatever tha’ Gollum thing is, and a dragon to grapple with!”

Bilbo’s expression grows dark. “... He used to be a Hobbit.”

The silence that envelops The Company is a dark one, and it continues as they gather their things. None are willing to break it for a long while.

It’s as though the single statement solidifies their situation more than any said before.

He used to be a Hobbit.

Used to be. The look in Bilbo’s eyes… there’s more to be said, and terrible things flit through the minds of each member of The Company. Not just for what may happen to Bilbo, should they fail, nor for what may happen to them as individuals.

A quest to reclaim a mountain from a dragon, numbering just 15 at the best of times, was already foolhardy enough. And now, their quest encompasses so much that it may as well be boiled down to ‘rid Middle-Earth of all evil entirely’ and be accurate enough to stand. And to make it happen, one within their party must carry the most foul, wicked, terrible item to ever be created…

“... Did you know,” Balin says suddenly, after a long silence that extended even to getting onto the ponies, “The dwarves were gifted Ring of Power in the bygone ages.”

Bilbo looks up at Balin. “They were?”

Balin nods. “Aye, and our kings held the last for many years. Until it vanished, with King Thrain. And do ye know how many of those Dwarf Lords served the enemy, Bilbo?”

Bilbo shakes his head.

Balin smiles, tight but true. “None. Men fell, and Elves fought, but Dwarves stayed true. Some stories do suggest the Rings were responsible for gold sickness, but never, never, did they claim our hearts to service of Sauron.”

Dwalin nods, catching onto the purpose of the story. “Aye, laddie. The hearts of Dwarves are hard to sway.”

“And our loyalties, even harder. As you know too well,” Balin says with an apologetic look. “What I mean t’ say is, you don’t need to carry the burden of that Ring alone. I know we already swore to accompany you, watch you, but if it came to it we would carry you through the terrible gates with our own hands.”

Carry him.

Frodo had spoke, many times, of Sam’s bravery on the final slopes of Mount Doom. Had sung praises, wept in grateful fits, whispered in bouts of unending guilt, of Sam picking him up and carrying him into the heart of that terrible place.

Starving, wounded, endlessly hopeful Sam. And Frodo had never stopped his emphasizing that Sam was the true reason The Ring was destroyed- and Sam had never stopped arguing that Frodo was. Back and forth they would go, Sam insisting it was Frodo who truly overcame because of just how long he was tormented and tempted, Frodo insisting it was Sam for never being tempted once and never allowing Frodo to fall to The Ring’s power. And in truth, they were both right-

Both true heroes.

The Ring is not a burden that can be carried alone- he recalls Lady Galadriel, speaking with Frodo on the boat to Valinor, of his experiences. How Frodo had whispered to her, to not let the others with them hear.

“Forgive me, Lady Galadriel… but I’m afraid you were wrong about one thing.”

“What was I wrong about, Frodo Baggins?”

“To bear a ring is not to be alone. Not as much as it may wish you to believe so.”

He remembers Frodo looking back to the shores where Sam stood then. 

Bilbo is jarred from the memories by Thorin handing something to him. Small, white, with blue thread framing the edges and a little BB stitched into the lower corner.

He laughs a wavering, tearful laugh. “My handkerchief.”

Thorin nods, a smile ghosting his lips. “You forgot it again.”

Bilbo laughs again, louder, and the rest of his dearest friends join him, soon filling the quiet Shire road with merriment.

[stareaterreads]

Private Rites

Book: Private Rites by Julia Armfield

⭐⭐⭐⭐⭐

You can almost feel the ever-constant rain pit-pattering on your brain as you read.

At my age, as young as my early twenties, I’ve spent much of my life being told the world is heading toward certain doom. Even in a state as red as the summer setting sun, so deep in denial of our weather’s fluctuations despite having more hurricanes with extreme behaviors, freezes deep enough to destroy our pipes never designed for this kind of winter, and hitting heat records earlier and later in the year than ever before.

The climate is a topic many people are very passionate about, yet it’s one I’ve heard become quieter amidst louder conversations. Many readers within my circles know I’m pretty loud about LGBTQIA+ rights, and it’s the subject I speak the most on (particularly because it’s the one I’m most knowledgeable on). Of course, color me fascinated the moment I was offered an ALC (Advanced Listener’s Copy) of Private Rites. I have had her book Our Wives Under the Sea on my radar for a while, and still fully intend to read it. When I read the blurb, I dove headfirst in.

As a first impression, Hannah van der Westhuysen’s voice felt like a wind blowing through your hair before lifting you off your feet and straight for the ground to start off the audiobook. I mean that in the best possible way, because I was immediately intrigued in the dreary and somber mood their tone sets. Their narrating through the whole book is done well with subtle changes in the perspective shifts between the three sisters to help differentiate each character. The cadence and huskiness in which they read creates a fantastic atmosphere for the book to be set within.

The story itself is a reimagining of King Lear, where the three sisters - Isla, Irene, and Agnes - are left with the loss of their callous and cold father among a world slowly drowning in a gentle, endless rain. While the three are navigating this not-so-sudden death and their estranged relationship with one another, they also struggle with the frayed ends of their lives, whether it be a love breaking away, a love that refuses to be let go, and a love just begun. The tension only makes them grow further apart as the will of their well-known architect of a father reveals favor to one sister over the other two.

Each of the characters, including the sisters and their partners, are written with a depth that makes them feel real. The issues they struggle with, their anxieties and worries, their anger and stress, all gives them dimension that I could imagine them as people I could have met in passing, with lives beyond the eyes of a stranger.

You can almost feel the pitter-patter of the never stopping rain on your brain from the moment you begin this book and weeks after you’ve finished it.

Julia Armfield has made a masterpiece of climate fiction. Van der Westhuysen delivers a breathtaking performance in this audiobook and will definitely be on my radar in the future. (Add. note: Fun fact! They acted in the Fate: The Winx Saga on Netflix! I haven’t watched it, but I thought that was a cool fact. I will always remember them first for this audiobook though, appreciatively). I would highly recommend this to anyone else with an eye out for either a speculative climate fiction book or a modern retelling of King Lear dripping with raindrops.

For those who, like 5% of the population and myself, who struggle with Seasonal Depression (or any other form of mood disorder), please get yourself some water and a more cheerful book to recover from this review. It may be difficult in this period to self-care, but please remember that if anything is worth doing, it is worth being done half-way. Treat yourself like you would a dear friend.

In any case, I want to thank Libro.fm and Macmillan Audio for gifting me this ALC through Libro’s bookseller program and my job as a bookseller. I also want to thank both Julia Armfield and Hannah van der Westhuysen for bringing this amazing queer climate fiction to life for the world to admire and appreciate. Last but not least, I thank you, dear reader, for reading and patiently supporting my blog, and I remind you that in this vast and sometimes lonely universe, you matter so much to me. Take care of yourself and don’t forget your meds and hydration! Until next time, I’ll be reading!

If you’re interested in this book, buy it from one of these links here! Bookshop.org - Barnes & Noble - Libro.fm [audiobook] or from your local bookstore! If you'd like to support my personal favorite bookstore, buy it from Katy Budget Books!

To bring up the downcast mood this review presents, I have this afternote for my fellow catastrophisers that need a pick-me-up to wrap the book review burrito better.

Even in what can feel like the dreary outlook of this world, there have been many monumental efforts made to bettering it and signs those efforts are working; in the past year or so alone, we have seen loggerhead turtles making a comeback in population based on an increase in their nesting population, renewable energy is projected to be on a big rise in several states and countries across the globe, and deforestation in Colombia and in the Amazon Rainforest have reached their lowest level in a substantial period. There is good news out there, it just takes a bit of effort to find compared to the doomsday posting social media algorithms tend to push. I personally like to look at OneTreePlanted's positive environmental stories posts when I'm looking for some good news about the world (which is where I found most of the above news as it made me smile) - plus, looking it up on your preferred search engine should produce some results, too.