#I've never really done anything like this for 'Friends'

[comicgeekery]

I'm sorry to anyone who feels this way. It's awful.

But I also think it's wrong.

I try to not use the word talent in my life. Because 90% of the time what people describe as talent, an innate even destined ability, is actually skill, an ability that has been developed through practice and experience. And it's a super important distinction, because skill isn't up to genetics or god or some basic seed from which you sprouted. Skill is based in your choices and, essentially, your opportunities.

I don't want to turn this to the other extreme and say that you're not great at That Thing because you haven't tried hard enough. There are certainly many circumstances that can get in the way. Like money, like available time. Can you go to classes? Afford materials? Dedicate hours every week to practice and improvement?

And it's more than that even! Have you ever learned HOW you learn? Were you taught how to embrace failure? Because no matter what, you WILL fail at the thing you like a LOT on the path to getting good at it.

But I think the absolute most important element is, do you have people who support and believe in you? Not just for your interest of choice, but also in general.

OP strongly compares exceptional ability with fame. That makes sense. I know the kind of optimistic posts they're talking about with lists of celebrities who became famous later in life. But fame is a different game entirely. It's based in opportunity to the nth degree, on being attractive in a very specific way, and on having skill in one or two of just a handful of abilities. Sure, there's a fixation on singers, actors, and athletes, but how many people would know it if the world's greatest knitter walked on stage?

That wouldn't mean that the knitter wasn't incredible, just that there isn't an industry built around promoting them.

The celebrities in those posts are for a point of connection, as people you can recognize. But yeah, ANYONE can start again at any time. And to keep it mundane, I'll use myself.

I'm 36. I've spent the last few years rebuilding my life after living through many shitty things. I grew up in an abusive household. I was bullied a lot. I lost friends through death and through just being too much.

And now I've done SO MUCH therapy and work on myself. I find I have the strength to try new things. I've been taking local classes for fun; ballroom dance, juggling, and improv. I started a book club that just reads terrible books because I find that fun. I started ANOTHER club for doing escape rooms because I love those and they need about 4 people. I'm putting together a little business to help people with their writing.

This is a lot of stuff, but I chose it all one at a time. Some of these things may not particularly amount to anything. They certainly won't make me famous. But I get joy from the trying, from working with other people, and from having others who support and compliment my efforts.

So much of our self-esteem, for better or worse, is based in the love and attention of others. Is it really FAME you want? Screaming fans, paparazzi, and a billion strangers with some opinion on your work without knowing a thing about you? Or would you be overwhelmed with joy if a dozen people were proud of you?

I'm sorry you don't have enough love or encouragement or self-esteem right now. I hope that gets better for you as you live and build skills you need.

But most of all, I promise that it's never too late!

everyone says you can always restart. that your future isn't forgotten, just sort of misplaced. they name actors and singers and authors who started at 46, 59. they cite chappell roan's 10 years. they tell you to push and push, that some day you'll open a door and the truth will be behind it.

but what if you aren't a celebrity in sheep's clothing. what if you're just a normal person. most people aren't exceptionally talented or else talent wouldn't be exceptional - right? what if you're just another median person; not ever startlingly bad nor terrifyingly good.

you put the shopping carts back and you walk your dog and you write poems on the internet. you have grown a plant or two; killed a few others. you did okay, overall, and you've been okay most of your life. not valedictorian, but you were a smart kid. you had some hard knocks, but you got up again. your life is just - average. you probably will never sing onstage at coachella. most of the time you are at peace with that - someone needs to drive the speed limit. life isn't about extraordinary circumstances, it's just about building a life you love and figuring out how to live in it.

but you would like to feel as if you'd found "the answer." everyone else seems to have some kind of talent they are born nesting in - and meanwhile you just exist. is that why you cycle through crafts and hobbies and activities like a roulette wheel? are you waiting for the moment where it turns out - all this time, you've been a visionary. a genius. all this time, you were special. even you: someone who has-never-been.

crawling up your throat: something bitter and savage. not quite a feeling of wasted potential. after all, you need to first have potential in order to waste it.

[rexhya]

warn — none, i these asks were pretty similar so i just grouped them into one!

✦ ✦

yandere!prince whos been more lovey dovey with you, currently you sit on his lap in the throne room dressed into too expensive clothing while he craddles your head and noses your neck.

"Mm, I wish I could just plaster your scent to me permanently. It's much easier getting off with your smell than not." As usual he waits for your reaction, you grace him with a polite smile he frowns at. He likes it better when you squirm.

"Don't ignore me," he whines his arms gripping your waist in a way that reminds you how easily he could overpower you.

"I'm not." you said dryly, attempting to turn your head from his caramel face but he only holds you tighter.

"Then look at me when I'm talking." his voice was like glass cutting through your heart, you faced him, tears in your eyes, you just couldn't help it. His affections were so misleading you didn't know if he was really in love with you like he said or simply took pleasure in tormenting you. ( most likely the latter )

"Awww, sweetheart don't cry." his face is concerned but his tone is condescending. It only makes you sob more. He kisses at your cheeks, wiping tears away with his thumb. Unbeknownst to you, Anul feels guilty, of course, not enough to ever let you go. But enough to give you a bit of comfort.

"What's wrong my love? Tell me."

There were so many things you could say, instead you whispered, "I just miss my friends. From the maids chambers. I havent seen them in so long."

This partly true, because of him you hadn't seen very much of anyone besides him.

"Very well, then just for today you can be released to your original residence, of course tonight you will sleep with me." you gasped, a for a moment Anul almost looked kind.

"Really?" you didn't believe it.

"Of course."

✦ ✦

You were overjoyed to be back with your friends, it was almost like escaping prison if not for a few hours.

"[Name], you're back." a high pitched voice called from the stairway down to the laundry room, you need to be out of these clothes as soon as possible.

"Samantha, I've missed you." You hugged her tightly.

"And you, though not much has happened whe you've been gone. I'm assuming the prince is rather amorous these days?"

Your face went bright red, "No, not really. We haven't done anything like that if that's what you're asking..."

"I see...Oh that reminds me, you've received someletters while you've been gone." Samantha led you back to the room where mail was to be collected, all maids had a workers had a box where they could receive things from outside the palace, you box contained two eveloples stamped with your family's emblem.

It must be from your father, you thought, you have no siblings and your mother always signed her initials at the ends of his letters to let you know shes always there.

One envelope contains a letter written to you (from your father as suspected) stating how he's found you a husband. Someone you've met before, the farmer who lives just outside your house and how once your contract expires you are urged to return home. The thought makes your heart swell, you'd forgotten about the man, his warm smile, his dimpled cheeks and rather charastmatic personality.

This was the best news you'd gotten since you'd came here, and your contract was ending in just a few short weeks, soon you'd be able to leave and continue a lifestyle you'd always dreamed of.

Suddenly your sprits were lifted, you didn't feel as dreadful walking back to the princes chambers. But Anul could tell you were happier than usual. He could always tell.

And while lying in bed, terror overcame you in just a few short words.

"You're not eally going off to try and mary that man were you [Name]?"

His claws grip your jaw, sinister smile pressed on your lips.

"No my prince, of course not my prince." you lie with a shaky teary breath.

"Of course you weren't, you'd never leave me, just as i'd never leave you, because were meant to be together and nothing could ever come between us right?"

"Right."

The day after, you saw you contract had been extended, instead of a few short weeks, Anul had changed the time of stay to years. You never should have signed that paper.

[rkivefae]

(repost from old acc, it's been a few years since I've been on here)

Okay, so my friend has doodled in my chemistry notebook when I let them borrow it, then I began thinking,,

Steddie high school au

Eddie draws continuously in chemistry class and he has certain things he draws with inspiration from that class and doesn’t want to contaminate it with other classes so he hides the notebook, poorly, in hope that when he comes back, it'll still be there.

Steve comes to his seat, in the back of the class and notices it immediately. His first thought is that someone lost it so he grabs it in hopes of seeing a name but instead sees crazy drawings. Ranging from small sketches of supposed knights to fantasy creatures that Steve never would have thought of seeing.

"If found, leave where it is OR ELSE" It read in thick sharpie letters on the front page.

He felt bad for being nosy and going through it but he couldn't help himself as he continued looking through it. After some heavy overthinking, he decides to draw something back. He wasn't the most talented but he was better than most in his art classes, so hopefully they didn’t laugh too much at his attempt.

He decides to draw a jester, tried his best to shade in all perfectly and portion everything properly. To say the least, he was impressed with his final product because this is better than anything he’s ever done in is classes. Next to it he writes, as if the character was saying it, “You should put this in better places.”

He didn’t even focus in class, AT ALL.

But when he came back to the class, he found the notebook again. Took one look at it and tried to fight back the desire to just crack it open and see if they wrote back. His fingers itched to have the glosses cover turned open. just a peak. He tried to reason and at first he held back. Trying to focus in class but that ended terribly, so he grabbed the notebook after about 5 minutes of spacing out on the teacher and eyeing it.

When he opened the page, there it was. A reply.

It was a king, you could tell by the crown he wore but fangs were prominent in the grinning feature. Black curled hair that fell onto his shoulder that was covered by a dark suit. A hand stretched out with a sword towards the Jester, “There is a trespasser? And a fool? State thy business!”

Steve fucking giggled. Giggled! Of all things he could’ve done, he giggled! King Steve Harrington since freshman year, had all the ladies wooing at him and guys wanting to be him just giggled because the owner of the notebook drewsomething for him.

Steve would never get focus back into that class since he replied. Always waiting for the notebook and it became his priority. He didn’t understand how he was still passing that class with how much he began lacking!

They talked about simple silly things at first before Eddie began picking it up more, talking more about who he was but never stated a name, not yet. They weren’t ready for that.

Steve even helped Eddie decide on what to use as his Hellfire club signature look that was going to be fought to be published as an official club on school record!

But when the last page came along at the ending of the school year, Eddie spoke about it. Said, “It’s the end of the year, the last of this book. Could I finally ask your name?”

Steve’s whole world stopped spinning. He couldn’t even begin to explain the thoughts racing through his head.

When they know, would they stop being friends with him? No one truly liked Steve Harrington, he became popular by default of being a pretty boy and on the basketball team. Most talked about how his group of people were assholes and that he might as well be, too. He wasn’t oblivious, he knew what most people thought. He was a boy of a rich family that was spoiled. That wasn’t a lie, but his life wasn’t pretty, thanks to his father and mother. But could anyone really understand that? Walking through the door of his home in fear of what he’ll walk in and see, what would happen to him if he breathed wrong in the presence of his father?

What if when he says his name and they don’t want nothing to do with him? What if when he says his name, he loses the only honest friendship he has? What if they share the things he told them in the notebook to everyone else withproof as a way to ruin his life because they didn’t like him? Maybe they weren’t like that but Steve couldn’t take that risk. No one with this chance would not take it, right? Tommy would take it. The rest of the boys on the team would take it. Carol would take it and laugh about it. He couldn’t expect different from other people, right?

Steve’s breathing quickened as his chest tightened, tears welling up and he gripped his chest. He rushed out of class with an unsteady balance, the teacher yelling behind him and he didn’t return for that period, the notebook left open and unsigned.

He couldn’t.

That moment was talked about everywhere, how he rushed out of class and didn’t return. No one bothered to question why, just whispered how panicked he was. Poor Steve, they said mockingly in the halls but never to his face.

Eddie knew.

It didn’t take long to piece it all together, the incident, the opened notebook, the fact that it was all too much of a coincidence and the things he said just made sense for it to be Steve Harrington.

He didn’t want to believe it at first, laughing that it was just dumb and there was no way that Steve ‘the hair’ Harrington was talking to Eddie ‘the freak’ Munson with passion. But then again, they both didn’t know who each other was.

When Steve talked about dumb moments with his ‘friends’ and how he felt bad for the people they ‘hung’ around, the games he lost and how he beat himself up, even the moments that Steve told him how he hated the social ranking - it all should have made sense. At first, Eddie thought that the person writing back was like him, a freak with nerdy interest. Which, in a different font, Steve was.

However, as the next few years flied by, Eddie just watched Steve from afar. From sucking faces with Nancy Wheeler in the hallway, picking her up and twirling her around, smiling bright because he was happy to the moments that it looked like Steve was seconds away from turning over and dying. The bruises that cascaded over certain parts of his body being a brushed off topic and the fear that was in his eyes when he turned the corner. Like he knew things he shouldn’t.

There was raw fear, hatred, anger and even disgust that Eddie was able to recognize. Part of him wondered where the happiness went and the other was tired of him staying afar, wanting to talk to him because Steve Harrington was more than just a pretty boy from what he knew and the look on his eyes only said more.

Eddie never got to, Steve rushed past every day, ready to get the day over and he couldn’t talk to him. Soon, Steve graduated and Eddie was held-back again and he took that as a sign. A strong one. To just get over it. He was never going to know Steve Harrington and it was stupid for him to even think so. Plus, if he did, it was stupid! The town freak with the most loved boy in town? Not a good duo. So, he stayed afar for good.

Until he didn’t.

Steve Harrington waltzed in with an arguing Dustin Henderson, the club all watching the two before Steve Harrington scoffed. “I’m serious, I’m not playing your nerdy campaign just because you’re missing a person! I don’t understand it,” He said, pushing a bag towards Dustin’s chest. “You know I’m not smart enough to understand that.”

Before Dustin could reply, Eddie took that as his chance to finally greet them. He climbed out of his chair rather loudly, catching both of their attention before walking up to Steve, crossing his arms over his chest and leaning forward.

“Well, Well, if it isn’t the missing Jester.” He said, a cocky tone laced within it

It took only a few seconds before Steve’s eyes widened when it clicked.

“No. Fucking. Way.”

[fishwithaphone]

I've never done one of these before! I'm actually super exited since I was tagged by @cursedcatchild 🤩

Favorite Character and One Reason Why:

My favorite is Donnie :) I love the new look of every character in this series, but my favorite is the relatability I can get from Donnie with hyperfixations and the implied autistic traits. It makes me feel seen while not making it overbearing or something debilitating like it does in other media!

Least Favorite Character and One Reason Why:

I've got to say it's Casey JR. Of course I love the new twist of it, but before the movie, I absolutely LOVED Cassandra as Casey and thought that that was the end of it. She had a redemption arc and a dramatic reveal, but with JR coming in through the movie, it kinda ruined it. He's also the most un-Casey Casey in any TMNT media I've seen. Still love him, like all the characters, but there was definitely something his character ruined that I hold a grudge against him for.

A Character you Think is Attractive:

Donnie, ofc. Been a Donnie boy ever since I found out TMNT existed, always will be 😤

Favorite Villain:

The Kraang. I loved the story line that they had in the movie, and with what happened, the fight during it left so many spaces for things like angst and aus to be made and expanded! The more angst, the better, and I sobbed during that movie.

Least Favorite Villain:

Big Mama. I hate to say it. I absolutely love her character, but when she's in the storyline, rottmnt moves away from being mutants who aren't accepted to being normal. While there are the occasional episodes where they go to the mystic city and do this on their own, it still holds that sort of loose vibe, whole Big Mama brings an almost corporate undertone that I hate to see the turtles in.

Favorite Duo:

Disaster Twins. This is the only version of TMNT where I'm not on the PB&J agenda 😌

Favorite Ship:

Honestly, I don't have one. I'm not super big on ships with TMNT media, but if I had to choose, I'd say Cassandra and April, they'd be cute.

2 Reasons Why you Love ROTTMNT:

Like I said, I absolutely love the new look into the brothers! They're less of ninjas, and more actual teenagers who are finally seeing the world, but don't really know more than each other, so they stick together with a more comedy aspect.

And I'm absolutely obsessed with how they're all different turtles! I love how they show it too, Donnie protects his soft shell, and Mikey ducks into his shell more often than his brothers since he's a Box turtle, while Leo is a Red Ear Slider which will eat anything they need to when they don't have food and silently suggested eating Donnie during Todd-scouts.

While my all time favorite will always be 2012, if not only because of the nostalgia factor, rottmnt is amazing and will always be something I come back to rewatch every year or so 😊

And I actually don't have any other friends to tag, so... Yk, feel free to quote or something, lmao.

Calling all ROTTMNT fans

Hi i'm new and I've been seeing these on Tumblr, so I thought to do one :) Btw tag your Rottmnt friends to do this to!

Favorite Character and 1 reason why: (Mine is Donnie because he's funny XD)

Least Favorite Character and 1 reason why: (Mine is the Leader of the Kraang bc of what he did to Leo..)

A character you think is attractive(Can skip if you don't have one): (Mine is DONNIE >:))

Favorite Villain: (Mine is Kendra, or Big Mama)

Least Favorite Villain: (Mine is same as my least fav character)

Favorite Duo: (Mine is DISASTER TWINS)

Favorite Ship: (None tbh)

2 reasons why you like Rottmnt :3: (Mine is because it's a genuinely funny show, the humor in it is great, and the characters are so well done.)

Your tags: (Mine: @donniecrazy20, @geese-ball, @mycomars, @tonystarkwasrobbed, @ihateitallsomerandomguy, @yourlocalmia, @sockkllyy, @strawberryswirl4321)

[tawnfawn]

you could be the death of me | soap

summary: in which reader copes with the events in chicago and the fear it brought with it, and soap tries to reassure her.

word count: 3.5k

tags: john "soap" mactavish x fem!reader, fluff, angst, best friends to lovers slow burn, platonic cuddling (but is it really?)

cw: death, guns, violence, literally anything that's in the last campaign mission of mw2, mention of nightmares, sleeping together (literally, not sexually), panic attacks, anxiety, fear

notes: funny enough, i think i've had this in my pages app for at least a year. i've just been writing this for fun and never posted it because i'm a perfectionist, but here's the first chapter of a currently 18k-word document of my simping for soap. hope you enjoy!

“Johnny?” Your voice was quiet and tentative when you stepped into the room, cringing at the creak of the old door. You heard a low groan, and through the darkness, you could see Soap sit up in his bed, watching blearily as you closed the door behind you.

“Bird…?” Your call-sign was slurred, like he was just waking up. “That you?”

“Fuck, were you sleeping?” You slipped off your shoes and crept toward his bed, trying not to make too much noise. “Sorry.”

“’S'fine,” he yawned, laying back down. You could barely see the glint of his eyes in the dark, his face only partially exposed by the moonlight streaming through the half-drawn curtains. “Is some…” He yawned again. “Something wrong?”

“Scoot over.” You didn’t answer the question, instead clambering onto the bed and slipping under the covers next to him. “Hi,” you said softly, sitting upright against a pillow.

He tilted his head to look at you, peering up at you through the darkness. “What’re ya doin’ here, lass?” he asked, and you looked away, chewing on your lip.

The stress of the events on your latest mission had rocked all of you, especially Soap. You’d seen the broken, furious look in his eyes after the events in Mexico and Chicago, after all Hassan had done, and you’d seen his fleeting triumph at the Iranian’s death. You still remembered the terror that had coursed through you in those moments—especially the horror of being cut off.

“Hassan’s in the last car. Use the lift cars to get there,” Gaz had told you, and Soap had practically shoved you to the side, jumping down to the lift before you could. 

“Don’t jump yet!” he called to you, peering over the edge. He hopped down to the other car before you could stop him. “I’ll make sure it’s—”

Suddenly, there was a bright flash of light and BOOM! a rocket exploded into the ceiling, blazing the room in fiery orange. You shrieked as he hit the ground, scrambling for his gun. Iron screeched as the car’s cables snapped, and Soap plummeted downwards.

“Soap!” you cried out. You leapt forward, but Gaz pulled you back by your vest before you could follow. “That car won’t hold! Jump down!” he yelled down, but there was no response.

Soap was far, far below now—too far for you to jump—so you teetered on the edge of the platform, leaning as far as you could to get a view of him. Fortunately, he’d managed to stay intact, but he looked dazed, clumsily struggling to his feet, and your heart leapt to your throat as the car groaned and rocked beneath him.

“Fucking move, Johnny!” you screamed, and he finally seemed to register the words. Pushing himself to his feet, he hurled himself off of the deteriorating car and into the elevator with Hassan. There was a loud crash as he fell on top of the Iranian, sending them both tumbling to the ground. You could barely see him now. He scrambled to his feet, snatched the missile controls from Hassan, and bolted out the door. You and Gaz screamed at him to move as a cacophony of gunshots and angry Arabic pierced the air.

“Fuck!” You ran to the other elevators, frantically smashing the call buttons as you grabbed for your radio.

“No use, Bird, they’re all on lockdown.” Gaz placed a hand on your shoulder, turning you to face him. “Come on, we need to—”

A legion of Al-Qatala stormed in to interrupt, and you both dove for cover amidst the gunfire, scrambling to get back to Price.

It was more than a fight to get out of there—it was the three of you against ten? fifteen? of Hassan’s soldiers, but you managed to mow them down. Price was speaking to Soap through the radio—you nearly cried in relief at the sound of his voice—as Laswell directed him through detonating the missile.

You stayed silent on comms throughout Laswell’s directions, but once they were finished, you immediately patched in. “Bird to Soap: I’m coming to you,” you hissed into your radio, sprinting down the steps. You’d finally found a stairwell that led down to the construction floor, but it was chock full of Al-Qatala soldiers, and your frantic footfalls echoed loudly throughout. “It’ll be a sec—” you grunted, slamming your boot into the throat of the fallen soldier clawing at your leg “—but I’ll be there soon, I promise.”

“Don’t worry about me, bonnie.” You could hear his smile amidst the radio static, and your stomach twisted. “I’m gonna kill every single one of these fuckers.”

“Yeah, yeah, save some for me,” you joked, but your voice was strained.

“Two down,” Soap whispered. “Just need to—”

His voice was cut off by the sound of gunshots, and the radio went silent.

You stumbled, nearly slipping on a corpse as you frantically yelled into your radio. “Soap!” you barked into the radio, waiting. It was silent. “Soap!” you cried again. No answer. “Fuck!” In the deafening echo, you slammed your fist against the wall and leapt down another four steps, praying you weren’t too late.

Upon slamming open the door to the construction level, you saw two things: one, the bodies of two Al-Qatala soldiers, and two, a distinct lack of both Soap and Hassan. You cursed under your breath, but then, BOOM!and the unmistakable shriek of glass breaking pierced the air.

The explosion had come from your right. You crept around the corner, doing your best to avoid the broken glass and shrapnel on the ground, and followed the noise to find Hassan, alive and standing over Soap. The Iranian was clearly the source of the explosion: one of the windows behind him was shattered, and smoke unfurled from the edges, orange-tipped embers floating about. Shrouded in the haze, he looked like a goddamn supervillain, aided by missiles instead of magic. He tossed his rifle to the side. “We are not attacking!” he snarled, hauling Soap up by the vest. “We are invading—!”

He barely finished the sentence before a gunshot rang out, and your bullet pierced through his brain, sending both him and Soap tumbling to the ground.

You were so focused on Soap that you didn’t even register Hassan’s corpse—just the huge gash across your best friend’s forehead, the blood soaked into his vest and pants, his crimson-stained hand against the ground. For a brief, haunting moment, you saw not victory, but death; not justice, but sacrifice. It wasn’t until you ran to him, falling to your knees and cupping his face, that you saw life again, embedded in the curvature of his smile.

There was a massive gash across his forehead, courtesy of Hassan’s rifle. Small cuts and tears adorned his clothes and body, only adding to his already massive collection. Blood was everywhere—fortunately, mostly not his—and his battered and bruised face was sprinkled with ash. His eyes met yours, and you nearly collapsed in relief. Then, the dizziness hit.

It felt like you were falling. Fear, incandescent and ice cold, gripped your heart like a vice and filled your lungs until it was spilling out like insults after injury. You gasped for air, but there was no space to breathe; suddenly, everything was hitting at once, your body folding in on itself. Plummeting underwater, you were drowning, drowning, drowning, your pulse swelling to a snare drum, everything becoming deafening as black dots danced behind your eyes. The deafening drone of static flooded your ears, growing fervid, blood was roaring so loud you could smell it, and suddenly, your head was numb, and suddenly, you weren’t real anymore, and you were cold, and it was dark, and even though your eyes were open you saw nothing, all void and vacuum like you’d never been alive. You fell forward, reaching and reaching and reaching for something, but you didn’t know what. Unable to find it, desperate for relief, spinning and falling and gasping for air you couldn’t breathe you couldn’t breathe you couldn’t breathe. Your hands dug like claws into flesh the same way a fist crushes a windpipe—violent for the sake of survival—and all you could hear was ringing, like someone had set off an IED. But over the ardent shriek there was a sound: warm and familiar, barely more than a warble of unintelligible words. Rough hands grabbed your face and pressed your head to warmth—your ear to a throbbing heartbeat.

“S’alright, lass,” Soap was saying, but his voice shook. “Ye’r alright. I’m here.”

Your widened eyes stared, unseeing. You couldn’t quite collect enough air to respond, so you just nodded weakly. His heartbeat was loud and steady, and you fought to clear your mind of all except its rhythm.

“Johnny.” Your breathing was shallow as you clung to his shirt. Everything was black. “I-I thought—” The words tumbled out as you gasped for air. “I heard gunshots, and I thought—”

“It’s okay, I’m okay,” he promised, wrapping his arms around you. He was drenched in blood, sweat, and god-knows-what else, but you pressed your forehead to his anyway, fighting for oxygen as frantic apologies fell from your lips. He let out a heavy breath, some burden like Atlas—a mixture of relief and fear and pain and exhaustion passed down through centuries—and pressed his lips to your forehead. Ignoring the sweat soaking his shirt, you buried your head in his neck and squeezed your eyes shut. In that moment, you didn’t care about anything or anyone else. You needed to feel him close, feel the warmth of his breath. You needed to feel him alive.

So that’s why you’d come to see him. That’s why you were here. It had been a few days since the events had concluded, but you hadn’t had much time to talk with all the flying and fixing and debriefing and healing. Your tongue was heavy like lead in your mouth when you looked at him, taking in his soft expression. The gash in his head had been glued shut, no longer dripping crimson, but even in the dark it was still visible, the angry red scar stretching from the top of his forehead to the edge of his brow.

“Y’alright?” Soap asked softly. “Nightmare?”

As strange as the question sounded, it was standard for the both of you. Your job had exposed you to horrors beyond expression—horrors that, no matter how hard you tried to ignore during the day, still managed to haunt your sleep at night. 

You shook your head with a shudder. “M’fine, it’s just…” Your voice trailed into silence, and you shifted awkwardly on the bed. Your mouth felt too dry to speak.

He looked at you and sighed. For a moment you thought he might chastise you, but then he threw his arm over your waist and in one strong motion, yanked you down and into his side, making you yelp in surprise. He practically shoved your face into his neck. “Jus’ tell me what’s wrong,” he muttered, low and raspy.

Briefly, you considered dissenting out of spite, but then you weighed your options, and accepting the cuddle won by a landslide. With an almost indignant huff, you settled in next to him, using his bicep as a pillow and throwing an arm over his broad chest. He was shirtless—unsurprising, since he’d been sleeping—but you didn’t mind. You were used to it in this job, anyway, and Soap was always taking his clothes off. It’s too hot, bonnie, he’d complain in cloudy weather, or We should play strip poker, he’d suggest to piss you off. God knows how many times he had begged to go skinny dipping together. 

You laid your palm on his chest, relishing in the heat radiating from his skin, and let out a small sigh of content as you burrowed into his side. His warm hand settled on your back, its weight grounding, and a chuckle vibrated through his chest. You sniffed. “Be quiet,” you told him.

“Thought you were a bird, not a fucking koala,” he teased, and you dug your fingers hard into his side until he yelped. “Hey!”

“Thought you were Soap, not an annoying bastard,” you mocked, and he snorted.

“Am I at least a sexy annoying bastard?” he joked.

“No.”

“Ah.”

You closed your eyes and inhaled deeply, practically melting into his touch, letting all of your senses be filled by him. His scent was different; normally it was masked by sweat, dirt, and blood, but sans-mission, it was an intoxicating spicy-sweet that made your head spin. It was always so comforting to have him envelop you like this, so strong and warm and reassuring. You’d missed this in the past few days—or rather, missed him. Everything that had happened recently had made you feel like you were spinning, spiraling out of control. His warmth, his familiarity—it was grounding. It wasn’t often you allowed yourself to be so soft, especially around others and especially on base, but with Soap, it was different. You never felt like you had to hide around him. In fact, you weren’t sure if you could at all.

“What’s wrong?” he repeated, gently resting his head next to yours.

“S’just…you scared me,” you admitted quietly. You were grateful that he couldn’t see your face; you felt too embarrassed to confess this and meet his gaze. “In Chicago. Thought you were…” You hesitated for a moment, wetting your lips. “Gone.”

The both of you were silent. The memories of that dreaded night flooded your thoughts, and suddenly it was hard to breathe. That drowning feeling came back, faint but just as frightening, and you sucked in a breath, your fingers flexing against his chest.

Buh-bum.

The sound of gunshots.

Buh-bum. Buh-bum.

You smelled blood.

Buh-bum. Buh-bum. Buh-bum. Buh-bum.

No, no blood. Just vanilla and cardamom and him.

“I’m here,” he promised.

Buh-bum. Buh-bum. Buh-bum.

You squeezed your eyes shut. He hummed, shifting, and his fingers intertwined with yours. “We’re on base,” he reminded you. “S’okay. You’re safe. I’m safe. I’m not going anywhere, yeah?”

Buh-bum. Buh-bum.

You focused on his heartbeat, focused on the way it pulsed in his chest like a melody, and you took a deep breath, trying to calm down.

Buh-bum. Buh-bum.

“Ye’r alright, bonnie. I’ve got ya,” he whispered, and the knot in your chest loosened slightly. He hugged you tighter, and your lungs began to drain. “Remember where we are?”

“Base,” you managed. Your breathing was slowing. “Bed. Safe.”

“Mhm, that’s right.” His palm, warm and heavy and familiar, settled on your scalp. The knot unraveled. “And I’m here, yeah? I’m fine. I’m not going anywhere.”

“Yeah,” you whispered, and he squeezed your hand. “Yeah, okay.”

Buh-bum. Buh-bum. Buh-bum. He was alive. You were alive. Things were alright.                                                            He squeezed your hand, silent as he waited for you to calm down. “Y’alright?” he asked eventually. He spoke softly, carefully, like he was trying to approach a wounded animal. The sound of it made your heart pinch.

You reached up to trace the marred skin on his bare shoulders, forgotten scars expanding and contracting with each breath he took, red and pink and white like Valentine’s roses. Your touch was featherlight as you watched the flickers of moonlight peel the layers of his person away, exposing slivers of sullen flesh to your prying eyes. In the pale, scattered moonlight, he looked almost ethereal.

“Bonnie?” he prodded.

“Yeah,” you admitted. You sighed. “I’m alright. It’s just—”

He clicked his tongue, interrupting you. “I got the missile, you got Hassan. It’s all over,” he promised. “Don’ need to worry yer pretty little head about me, bonnie. I’ll be fine.”

You made an indignant noise. “Of course I have to worry about you. You’d die without me.”

His thumb rubbed over your knuckles. “S’part of the job,” he said patiently. “Y’know that—”

“Don’t care if it’s part of the job,” you insisted, and you pulled back slightly to look at him. “I care about you.” Your hands strayed from his shoulders, traveling up the slope of his neck and settling on the sides of his face. His half-lidded gaze met yours, heavy with fatigue, and he leaned into your touch, a low, satisfied noise rumbling from his throat. The roughness of his stubble scratched against your palms, but his gaze was soft, gentle—a wild one tamed. You’d never seen anyone have eyes as captivating as his: deep, shadowy blues that you could only describe as alluring, like the color of the sea before a storm. He gazed up at you through long, dark eyelashes, expression guarding something you couldn’t quite read, and you felt your breath hitch in your throat. No matter how hard he tried to hide his emotions, his eyes always betrayed them to you. While others struggled to decipher his expressions, you were a Soap connoisseur—just one look and you were picking apart the pieces of his person like a programmer searching their own code. He knew that. You knew that. Maybe that was why you looked away.

“I’m fine, pet,” he reassured, and he reached up to run his hand through your hair. His blunt nails scratched lightly at your scalp, likely to placate you (it worked), and you relaxed into his touch.

“Just… don’t die on me, okay?” you mumbled. “I couldn’t… you can’t do that.”

In a normal conversation between the two of you, he would tease you for such a statement, insinuate all sorts of wild fantasies and implications. But you both knew this wasn’t a normal conversation, so he simply nodded in earnest. “I know,” he said quietly. “I’ll try my best.”

“Promise me.” Your voice was quiet, but insistent. 

His eyes never left yours. You both knew that was impossible. “I promise. You too.”

“Me too,” you agreed, and you let your hand drop back down from his face to his chest. You buried your head back in his neck.

“You need to stop worrying so much,” Soap said, but you could hear the smile in his voice. Both of you knew that was impossible.

“Can’t,” you huffed, ignoring him. “You’re always doing stupid shit, like some—some bloody idiot.” 

“Bloody?” His face suddenly lit up with a grin. “All that British talk’s finally getting t’ya, is it?”

“Oh, shut up,” you retorted. “It’s all your fucking Scottish yapping.”

“Aye, but you love my fucking yapping, don’tcha, lass?” he chuckled. He pulled you in closer, humming in satisfaction. The warmth of his body was soothing.

“No,” you mumbled, closing your eyes. Exhaustion was finally starting to seep in now that you weren’t so stressed, and you were melting like butter in his hands. “Okay, well, maybe.”

“Attagirl,” he purred, laying a heavy hand on your head. His fingers traced soft shapes on your scalp, sending pleasant tingles down your spine. “You staying here?”

A noncommittal noise was your automatic response. Logically, you knew it was smarter to go back to your room—sleeping with teammates, regardless of circumstance, was enough to earn a serious reprimand, not to mention the relentless teasing that would come with it—but his chest was so comfy, and his arms were so snug, and you could already feel yourself drifting into darkness, drawn by the lullaby of his heartbeat and the gentle rise and fall of his breathing. Besides, sleeping together was nothing new; there’d been many a mission in which you two had shared sleeping bags, huddling close for warmth in cold environments (or maybe just for comfort). It’d become a habit at this point, and one you weren’t keen to break. In a profession such as yours, there was safety in numbers, so this way, neither of you would be caught in an ambush alone. And no one could blame you, either; you and Soap had been through thick and thin together, so it was only natural you two were close. As touch-oriented people, it made sense.

But that still didn’t explain the strange, warm feeling that seemed to spread through you. Feeling him wrapped around you, so warm and large in comparison, always made you feel some kind of comfort, some sense of safety that you weren’t used to. You didn’t know why. You could undoubtedly handle yourself, but for some reason, Soap just made you feel safe—no matter if you were here on base or in the middle of Mexico. He just knew you so well, always able to ease some of your worries with a tight hug and a few kind words. Your fingers intertwined with his, squeezing tightly. It was almost cruel: he was everything you needed, but you could barely drink in the comfort of his body, greedy for the heady sense of contentment only he could grant you.

“Night, Birdie,” he bid you softly, and you sighed.

“Night, Johnny,” you mumbled back, and you relaxed in his arms, drifting into strange dreams you wouldn’t remember in the morning.

[waltzreprise]

WLW Wolfstar Muggle AU (III)

Part I & Part II (all can be read as standalone)

1924 words / Flasback

"But..." Remus said, stretching out the 'u', "there was no paper, so he had to leave the classroom for another fifteen minutes."

Sirius nodded, staring out the window, and let out the first words that came to her mind.

"Yeah, right, how funny."

After a pause and with a long sigh, Remus stood up and began clearing away the plates they'd used to hold some fries, which she'd eaten almost by herself.

"You know what?" she said firmly. "If you don't want to be here, you can leave."

These words seemed to wake Sirius up. She turned in her seat and looked at Remus in confusion.

"What? No, Remus. I was a bit distracted, sor—"

But Remus felt she'd had enough, so she raised her hand to stop her.

"Look, I understand you're upset about Francesca, but—"

Sirius's eyes darkened, flashing bitterness. That was her turn to interrupt her friend.

"Don't mention her. Just... Don't talk about her."

She breathed hard and tried not to look at Remus's lips as she bit them, trying to hold back a sarcastic laugh, a gesture that was already familiar to her.

"My God, Sirius," Remus said, exasperated. "You broke up with her! And you're acting like she was the one who dumped you and then killed your dog!"

Sirius rubbed her forehead with her hands, easing the lump in her throat. She really didn't want to have this conversation. Not with her.

"I don't want to talk about it!" She said, louder than she intended. "Precisely because she didn't kill my dog, because she was..." And there she go. The remorse. "Fuck! She was... perfect."

Remus lowered her head at Sirius words and sighed again, returning to her seat at the other end of the couch.

"I get you two used to spend Saturday nights together, and I thought..." She shook her head, her gaze fixed on her fingers. "This was probably a bad idea, Sirius. You need to... I don't know, grieve. Spend a couple of Saturday nights by yourself, maybe."

Oh, she was ruining everything. Again.

She tried to get closer to Remus, just a little. She had to try fixing this, even though looking into her friend eyes made her heart ache.

"No, no... I don't want that, Re..."

"Sirius," she interrupted again with a grimace, "you've been answering in monosyllables or sarcastic comments all night. It really seems like you don't want to be here. And that's okay, but... I don't want to feel like I'm doing anything wrong. I don't want to upset you."

Sirius clutched the fabric of the sofa, wanting to reach out and take Remus's hand, but she couldn't, she shouldn't.

"Oh, please, Remus," she said, trying to sound sincere. "It's not that, it'll never be that. You're not doing anything. It's me. I'm not letting myself enjoy this night because... I... can't."

Remus's expression changed to one of understanding, but Sirius knew she didn't truly understand. Selfishly, she let her come closer and enjoyed the touch of her hands as they held hers.

"Sirius, you can have fun. You can enjoy a night with friends," she said, slowly. "I understand that you feel bad about breaking up with Francesca, but that doesn't mean you have to stop your life; it's not your fault if you stopped loving her. These things happen."

"I didn't stop loving her," Sirius murmured, the words spilling out of her mouth.

She felt Remus tense, just a little, and her guts churned. She almost let out a cry when Remus let her hands go.

"Well... It's not your fault if she did something that was your dealbreaker either."

Oh, Sirius wished Fran had done something like that. It would have all been so much easier.

"She didn't," she admitted, staring up at the ceiling. "She was... She's perfect. She's probably the first girlfriend I've ever had who actually loved me, you know?"

Another silence fell between them. Sirius tried hard not to look, even when she noticed Remus shifting in her seat.

"That sounds like you just need to talk to her and tell her you were wrong" she said, more quietly. "Tell her that you still want to... be with her."

If she banged her head against a wall, it was more likely that at least a couple of her problems would go away, right?

"I had my reasons for breaking up with her," she said, instead.

Remus scofed, and for a second, Sirius considered leaving. She knew that sound, she knew that Remus was the only one who could crawl under her skin. This conversation wasn't going well.

"Well, you didn't tell me what those reasons were," Remus argued, and Sirius had to take a deep breath.

Of course that was coming back to bite her in the ass.

"And you promised you wouldn't ask."

"I'm not asking," Remus pointed out. "But I don't like seeing you like this and not being able to help."

How can someone try to do the right thing and feel like they're doing everything wrong? Why did life have to be so difficult? Why did Remus have to look at her with those honey-colored eyes and that cute, stupid pout?

"It's... it's just... I feel guilty, okay?" she said, slumping back against the back of the couch. She was going to die if she had to look into Remus's pleading eyes for one more second.

But Remus was in a mood, and she had her reasons. Sirius had been truly rude that night.

"Why?" she said, and her sarcastic tone ignited something inside Sirius. "For breaking up with her while you still love her? For spending the night with one of your best friends instead of crying for a break up that you chose? This is not your first time, I have see you after break ups before. Come on, Siri-"

"Because it's not enough!" she exploded.

Because Remus didn't understand, Remus didn't know. Because maybe it wasn't her first breakup, but it was the first time she'd felt that guilt, that guilt Remus couldn't even imagine.

Remus looked perplexed, as if she couldn't believe those words.

"Is loving her not enough? Why? You were like... the perfect couple," she said in a somewhat forced tone, then returned to her usual sarcasm. "What could possibly be stopping your love? Is she a secret super spy or something?"

"That I don't love her as she deserves," Sirius pointed out, looking at Remus sharply. Oh, those fucking eyes. "I don't love her enough, Remus. There are... things, so powerful and overwhelming things, that make me not love her as I should, that make it unfair to her."

Something close to regret flowed through Remus's eyes, but she remained silent for a moment. And then they were just there, staring into each other's eyes, and Sirius was sure hers revealed too much.

Finally, Remus looked away and cleared her throat.

"I'm... sorry, Sirius. I understand this isn't easy. I just... I just want to be with you, okay? Just be a good... friend. I want you to enjoy the night, but if you're not feeling well..."

Well, the problem was quite the opposite. It had always been so difficult for her not to enjoy any moment she spent with Remus...

She shook her head to try and clear her thoughts and decided she couldn't go on like this. She was trying to make things right. So she let herself lean closer, she let herself cup Remus face in her hands, she let herself enjoy the way Remus leaned into the touch.

"No, no" she said, softly. "Look, Re, you're right. It's stupid. I broke up with her, it's over, and I can't feel guilty about it forever. But the most important thing is, I can't let you pay for my actions. I was an idiot, and I'm sorry."

She smiled a bit, leaving a carees in Remus' cheek before standing up, pointing at the TV.

» "Now you pick out the lowest-budget, worst-looking film we can watch while I go to order some pizzas, okay?"

Remus grabbed her hand before she could reach the phone and looked at her with a tired but kind smile.

"Sirius, I don't want you pretending you're okay when you're not."

But Sirius had already made up her mind.

Maybe she was a mess, maybe she wasn't doing everything perfect, but she was trying. And if she'd decided to break up with Francesca because she knew it was for the best, she couldn't stop her life because of it.

And she couldn't let Remus feel sad or upset just because she was still trying to figure out what to do with her own feelings.

"I'm fine, really," she said, smiling wider now, and pulled Remus so they were standing face to face. "I'm really sorry about tonight."

Remus smiled back and placed his hands on her collarbone, caressing the area with her thumbs. Sirius fought back a shiver.

"It's okay. Just tell me if you need anything, yeah?"

That was equal parts a difficult question and the easiest anyone had ever asked her.

Remus was there, standing in front of her, with her moles, the dark circles under her eyes from trying so hard to pass the subject with that terrible professor, her pink lips so chapped from biting them in stress. As pretty as always.

And she was there, for her, as always too.

Maybe Sirius could start saying something sincere.

"Yeah. But right now all I need is you."

Remus smiled at her and opened her arms. It took less than a second for Sirius to hug her, pressing her against hers and inhaling her scent.

Remus hugged her back, resting her head on Sirius's shoulder and running her hands comfortingly down her back. They broke apart a few minutes later, just inches apart, so Sirius could kiss Remus's forehead.

"You're my best friend" she said, because it was true, because it was the point of everything.

Those amber eyes shone, and Sirius was close to giving up, throwing it all away and just...

"I know," Remus replied, and for a second Sirius was afraid she'd spoken out loud. "You're my best friend, too. I love you."

Fighting a sigh, Sirius smiled back and kissed her forehead again. She let Remus hug her one more time, holding her against her frame for a second.

"I.. me too," she replied. Then she smirked and broke away from the hug. She went to grab her phone before disappearing into the kitchen. "But I'm not ordering a Hawaiian pizza!"

"Oh, come on!" Remus's complaint reached her from the living room, making her smile. "It's good and you know it!"

In the end, she did ordered the Hawaiian pizza, because Remus always made a face when she bit into pineapple, even though she swore she liked it. And Sirius loved that face.

But what didn't she love about Remus?

Oh god, she was really fucked.

[andorerso]

wait, I thought I was done but I forgot to post my usual live thoughts so here we go, these are my last thoughts about this arc. disclaimer: VERY salty (not you episode 8, we love you)

episode 7

glad to see Yavin but how is it already this operational? would have liked to see that

literally what the fuck is this hut and how is it realistic that they'd get this in any shape or form 😭

EADU MENTION

idk I don't like the force healer thing. Cassian's not chosen. he's just a guy who wants to do the right thing. that's the whole point of R1

DRAVEN MY MANNNNN

"the day I need permission to come and go, I'm gone" LMAO SHUT THE FUCK UP. YOU FUCKING IMPOSTOR

going on an unsanctioned mission a year pre r1. brilliant. spectacular. makes so much sense, I love it

"we're building a real army" well I wish I could have seen that!!

"Cassian's a leader now" wish I could have seen that too

brain does go brrrrr when Cassian is competent. this is the moments I like, when he's on a mission

episode 8

I'm sorry but "rebellions are built on hope" felt like such a random thing to say in response to that? I… don't like it. it's not my biggest gripe but I wanted those to be his own words

I don't know why they're using their real names with each other out here… use your code names ffs!

is the one that keeps staring Kay 👀👀 my beloved droid

oof Syril choking Dedra. yikes…

the Syril and Cassian fight my god!!

he really did that one meme 💀 rip Syril

Cassian will never understand what just happened here lmao

Cassian helping a stranger get up as they escape 🥺 a small detail but THAT'S my man

don't have much else to say. I did really enjoy this episode, definitely my favorite of the season by FAR, and probably up there with The Eye

episode 9

my casskleya crumbs

yeah. so he witnesses Ghorman and he thinks that's it, I'm done? THIS late into the timeline? fuck this honestly, I'm enraged

at least Kleya read him for filth

"I need to start making my own decisions" the way I fully burst out laughing. bitch you've been doing that THIS WHOLE TIME. like you CANNOT be serious

Mon speech cleared!!

"your cousin Vel is a friend" I'd like to see it

competent Cassian still has me kicking my feet and giggling. him rescuing Mon is solid stuff. too bad this won't last

I really thought Mon's speech at least affected him and he changed his mind but no, he still wants to leave. lmao the clownery

"I've done what I can, and I've done a lot" and are we supposed to just believe it? how about you fucking show us? because all I've seen this season (except arc 1 but he was barely in that) is him playing house, resisting going on missions and wanting, in general, to be done with it

he can just stop talking? this is so insanely OOC I fucking hate it. fucking hell I'm furious this is the direction they thought to take him in

I can't believe she drugs him 💀 was that the entire point of her drug addiction or....? because we hadn't seen anything of that in this arc

so... I'm meant to believe that he stays because his gf leaves him? that he literally has to be FORCED into committing? wow. what a brilliantly brave and selfless choice from our hero. so impressed 👏 genius writing

"I'm choosing for the both of us. I'm choosing the rebellion." IT SHOULD HAVE BEEN SOMETHING HE CHOOSES ON HIS OWN BECAUSE IT'S THE RIGHT THING, BECAUSE HE BELIEVES IN IT, BECAUSE HE WANTS TO. GOD FUCK OFF

he doesn't even get to reprogram Kay. they just take everything from us

and also... Kay was literally not even in this arc

fucking hate it here goodbye

[sage-nebula]

For those who favor the "Friede is perfectly fine, he's just laying low to work behind the scenes" theory, I ask you to please do the following:

Think of someone you love.

I don't mean someone you just like a lot, or someone you are fond of. Think of someone you love. Someone you feel safe around, no matter the circumstances. Someone whose mere presence brings you joy. Someone who, even when they exasperate or annoy you, that annoyance is still tinged by fondness because yes, they are being annoying, but they're also being them, and you love them. Someone who has changed your life for the better, someone who makes your life brighter, better, simply by being in proximity to you. Someone who makes you happy, makes you warm, makes you safe, makes you feel that life is worth living because no matter how hard things get, at least they're there, being them. Someone you really, truly love.

Are you thinking of that person? Good. Now imagine that they've died.

Imagine getting the news that an accident took place, and that they are now dead. They're gone, forever, and you didn't even get to say goodbye. In a worst case scenario, you saw this happen, and were powerless to do anything to stop it. This person that you love with your whole entire heart, who made the world brighter for you, has been ripped away from you, violently and without warning. You will never see them again. You will never speak to them again. There is nothing you are capable of doing which will bring that person back into your life. You have to instead go on without their warmth, their laughter, their love.

As you sit with that, as you grapple with that pain, ask yourself: How would you feel if, after a year of dealing with that unyielding avalanche of grief, you learned that not only were they alive, but they could have contacted you at any time and yet deliberately chose not to?

I'm not sure if this thought exercise I have proposed is enough to get across the all-consuming agony that grief over a loved one causes. It has been ten years since my platonic soulmate died in my arms, and that still remains the worst night of my life. I still cry when I think about her. And she is not the only one I've lost; I lost a dear friend to suicide eight years ago, and that grief, too, still aches inside me, the "what if I had done [x]" sometimes skittering around my brain even though I know there's nothing I could have realistically done to prevent it. Grief is not just sadness; grief is life-altering, brain chemistry-changing misery. Grief is a form of trauma, and doubly-so if you were there to witness the event as Orio, Liko, Roy, Dot, and Cap were.

So we have to ask ourselves: What would it do to the crew of the Brave Asagi if they learned that the grief they felt for over a year was for nothing? That they grieved their dear friend, whom some of them thought they saw die right in front of them, for no reason? That Friede was alive all along, and he just chose not to tell them? He chose to let them grieve him. He chose to let them endure that misery? What would it do to them to learn that this person that they loved with all their hearts chose to let them suffer?

And what would it do to Friede's character, to say that he is the type of person who would do that?

Because there is no reason good enough to justify it.

"He was laying low because the RVTs are seen as Public Enemy #1" -- they are being seen that way regardless of whether he is alive or dead. The only difference is, now they are being seen that way without him by their side, and with the grief of believing that he is lost to them forever.

"There are things that he can only do on his own" -- This is an entire series predicated on partnership and friendship. It is not believable at all that there are things that he would only be able to do without the rest of the crew, at least to the level of "it's better that they endure the grief of my death than to let them in on the fact that I am alive and OK."

"He is getting help from Amethio" -- While it would be believable that he would ask Amethio to join the RVTs, and it is not believable that he would enlist Amethio's help and not also pull the RVTs into it -- or again, at least inform them that he is alive and OK.

"Well then why can Amethio be laying low" -- Because Amethio is a character who has been established to want to go solo in the name of protecting others previously (see: when he tried to fire Zir and Conia). Friede is the opposite. Friede brought the RVTs together in the first place and has been established to be a person who cares deeply about the feelings of others.

I agree that jokes about Friede appearing and saying, "Did I forget to mention I'm alive?" are funny. But they are funny as jokes, as shitposts. For that to happen in canon . . . in my opinion, it would be unforgivable. If I was made to feel grief over someone I loved, only to find out a year or so later that they were alive all along and just didn't tell me, I would not be able to forgive them for putting me through that. It's tantamount to stabbing someone in the heart and saying, "My bad!" afterward. It's callous behavior. It's a heartless action.

The only way they could pull off Friede being peachy keen this entire time is if he actually had notified everyone off-screen and we just weren't told . . . but even then, he presumably still wouldn't have notified the kids or Cap (or else Liko wouldn't have painful flashbacks to his "death", Cap wouldn't be with Roy), and it'd be a very hard sell to believe that the adults would leave the crew disbanded without him.

Since Friede has not contacted the RVTs for over a year, it has to be because he can't -- because he physically or mentally cannot do it. Otherwise, at least in my opinion, he'll be doing something unforgivable that truly assassinates his character, and it will honestly ruin the show for me.

[stereopticons]

On This Day in Schitt's Creek: May 7

2019

honest man [david/patrick, G, 3,770] by my_middle_name_is_awkward

He felt terrible for playing with Rachel’s heart, but he knew that that man that had done that to her was gone. He was going to do everything in his power to make sure he never did anything like that again, especially to David.

My Heart Stumbles On Things I Don't Know [stevie/twyla, G, 2,861] by @alilactree

It’s just because she’s been on her mind a lot, really, that Stevie notices how nice Twyla’s smile is. How her hair has flecks of copper in it where the sun catches just right. The little dimples in her cheeks as she lists salad toppings. Or: Stevie realizes some things. It's not about Twyla, except that it is.

she hits like ecstasy [stevie/alexis, E, 2,146] by livelyvague

Why Alexis is actually upset at Patrick's housewarming party. Alternatively, Alexis and Stevie revisit the spin the bottle kiss.

2020

[podfic] fever, chills, fatigue [david/patrick, G, podfic] by @sunlightsymphony

“Okay,” Patrick says, the second time he throws up. “Okay, maybe I’m sick.”

A One Time Thing [stevie & david, E, 5,100] by @smallumbrella369

After Jake suggests a throuple, David and Stevie make a decision. It's in the title. I think you know what's up.

Five Times Ronnie Was a Friend to David and One Time She Was a Friend to Patrick [david & ronnie, T, 3,875] by @unfolded73

"I think it's less about Ronnie disliking Patrick, and [more about] Ronnie seeing this person come in and having a huge effect on someone she cares as much about as she does David," Robinson said. "Ronnie likes to take her time and figure things out, and err on the side of suspicion." -- Karen Robinson in The Advocate

if i survive, i'll dive back in [david/patrick, M, 49,043] by @mymariahcarey

David bites his lip and pulls his eyes from Patrick’s strong thighs to his face, finding Patrick’s own eyes on him, that warm smile still gleaming. He looks away, down to his sneakers and clean, damp concrete. He can see Jocelyn bouncing on the balls of her feet excitedly, her hands clasped together. "Well you know who Patrick is, this is his wonderful coach Ronnie! I think we'll all work very well together." Or, the diving AU no one asked for.

Not In the Mood [david/patrick, T, 659] by @reginahalliwell

Just a fun little ficlet showing us a snippet of David and Patrick's life as boyfriends. Patrick initiates, and David isn't in the mood.

Safe [david/patrick, NR, 1,980] by @maxbegone

“David?” He wants to say silent, he really does. He wants to let the moment pass and just force himself to fall asleep again. But he doesn’t. It’s like his mouth is moving faster than his brain at this point. “No one has ever made me feel like that,” he begins. “I was usually this one-and-done thing for people. Wasn’t worth the effort.” - "I've never felt as safe as I do when I'm with you." Long before they exchange their vows, David talks about the past a bit, gets a bit raw about it and Patrick listens and loves him.

Scooch On Over Closer Dear [david/patrick, G, 1,009] by @froggierboy

David and Patrick open wedding gifts, with help from Stevie, Alexis, and Twyla. - "Wait, Ronnie was at the wedding, right?" He hears Twyla whisper to Alexis, and he decides to not remind her again that they hadn't done presents at the reception because it's tacky and because the whole family had to get up at butt-o-clock the next morning to see off his parents.

such a constellation was he to me [david/patrick, T, 21,520] by @blueink3

"You just muted it!” the man snaps. “Stop touching things!” “YOU stop touching things.” “Um,” Patrick starts, clearing his throat. “I can hear you just fine.” The two people on the other side of the screen freeze and the woman bends down, pressing nearly cheek-to-cheek with Patrick’s 2pm. “Well, aren’t you just a button,” she says before the man physically elbows her out of frame.Or, what if David and Patrick met in self-isolation?

Sugar Pie, Honey Bunch [david/patrick, G, 1,752] by odofidi

"We're just not nickname people". David and Patrick argue over the origins of "honey".

You're so fucking hot when you're mad [david/patrick, E, 1,487] by @mickeysmyheart

22: “Mine.”48: “You’re so fucking hot when you’re mad.”60: “I’m gonna fuck you so hard that you forget you ever even met that asshole.”71: “Don’t fucking touch what is not yours.”

2021

[art] you know what they say: better late than never [alexis/twyla, G, art] by budd

While unpacking her boxes to move into Alexis' apartment in New York City, Twyla finds a stash of her old business cards from when she wrote a column for young members of the LGBTQIA+ community in The Advocate.

[Podfic] In Bed with a Beautiful Boy [david/patrick, T, podfic] by @petrodobreva

Patrick finds a poetry book that belongs to David and reads to him before bed. [Podfic of In Bed with a Beautiful Boy by kindofospecificstore]

[Podfic] Stuck on your heart, caught in your web [david/patrick, T, podfic] by @petrodobreva

Maybe David had imbibed in too much of something with Stevie, because he's talking about suddenly having strange powers and - something about a radioactive spider?! A goofy little high school best friends AU. [Podfic of Stuck on your heart, caught in your web by grapehyasynth]

[Podfic] The darkest hour is just before dawn [ted/alexis, M, podfic] by @kiwiana-writes

Ted thinks about Alexis on the plane after the breakup [Podfic of The darkest hour is just before dawn written by petrodobreva]

Captive on the carousel of time [stevie/twyla, T, 11,156] by @designatedgrape

The predictability of Schitt’s Creek and the routines of the people who live here have always been a comfort to Twyla. In a life that has been full of uncertainty, she appreciates that there are things she can always count on. So when Jocelyn walks in at 3:07, it isn’t a surprise. At least, not at first. “What can I get for you, Jocelyn?” “Oh, I think I’m going to need an extra-large coffee to get through the rest of the day, Twyla. I’m headed right back over to the school to set up for tonight.” Twyla nods and turns to start making Jocelyn’s coffee. “What’s tonight?” “Graduation.” Twyla pauses and looks back at Jocelyn. “Um, I think you might be a little confused. Graduation was last night.”

Deadpool Strikes Back! How One Merc For Hire Sticks It to an Army of Goons, One Annoying Narrator, and The Worst Villain of All: Self-Doubt [stevie/ruth, T, 1,340 + podfic + art] by Amanita_Fierce @sarahlevys @petrodobreva @rhetoricalk

WAZZUP!?@ 🤯 If you're reading this, you're probably thinking, "What the hell? Stevie's Deadpool?!" The answer's YES! 🤗 And she's pissed, and not just 'cause a bunch of goons hijacked her girlfriend. 🤬 No: the worst thing of all is the narrator she has to deal with all along the way. 🤡 Buckle up, buckos, it's a bumpy ride! AND DON'T FORGET TO LISTEN TO THE PODFIC!! AND OOH, DID I MENTION THERE'S ART?!

Everything That We'd Ever Need [alexis/twyla, E, 12,028] by @middyblue

“What are we doing here, Twy?” “I thought maybe we could go for a swim.” Or, 5 times Twyla went skinny-dipping and 1 time she wore a dress.

Fated to be with you [patrick/rachel, G, 4,355] by @pine67

The day Rachel turns fourteen years old is the happiest day of Patrick's life. Go figure, then, that the day Patrick turns fourteen years old is the worst day of Patrick's life.

Gig Economy Boyfriend [david/patrick, T, 9,809] by @lisamc-21

Patrick is moonlighting as a delivery driver for MunchMates. When an apartment number mix-up leads to him meeting David, he hopes to see David again. And he does because David orders every weekend, and Patrick makes sure to pick up his orders. This is Tropefest, so why not throw together a meet-cute, mish-mash of interruptions, endless pining, a bit of fake dating, and Sebastien Raine.

Hanging Our Hats [david/patrick, T, 10,259] by @wearpersistencewell

With the Roses out of the motel, and three of them far away from town, they each find their footing in new circumstances, with plenty of mishaps along the way. Sequel to "Thorns", although you don't have to have read it.

Just Say Yes [david/patrick, G, 353] by @fictasticvoyage

The feelings of falling in love- real love- for the first time can be a little overwhelming. In the best possible way.

Much Needed Alone Time [johnny/moira, M, 753] by orphan_account

Ode to the Otis [david/patrick, T, 4,678] by @floosilver8

Patrick's new apartment in the city comes with a very distracting man in 13B

out of the mouths of babes [david/patrick, G, 1,157] by @hullomoon

Coming home from the dentist and still high from the anesthesia, Patrick accidentally lets something slip. David, panics. my 100th work

The Devil's Work is Never Done [alexis/reader, G, 68 + podfic] by @sarahlevys @schittposting

If you were faced with temptation, what would you do?

Wander Where They Will [david/patrick, T, 16,891] by @kiwiana-writes

Once upon a time, in a land not so very unlike our own, men and magic existed side by side. The Lord and Lady Rose, cursed along with their daughter to live as wild creatures of the sky, leave behind a single son, emotionally broken but physically whole. Stricken silent by the same magic that stole his family, he finds a glimmer of hope buried in a conversation with a kind stranger—all curses can be broken, if he simply pays the price. A price higher than anyone has a right to ask: three sweaters, spun and knit from the fibers of a plant covered in barbs that tear into his skin at every touch, rip him open with every stitch. He has a year and a day, to work, to hurt, to meet and befriend the townsfolk who took him in after fleeing his parents' home. And one particular brewer, a man who might do more than help repair his torn skin. Who might be the only one to repair his shattered heart. He has no voice, and time is running out—but the ways of the universe are a mystery, and the deepest magics of all are always rooted in love.

Watch His Body Writhe [david/patrick, E, 2,332] by @floosilver8

The continuing sexploits of Schitt's Creek.You don't need to read the others in the series to follow this one.Mostly canon compliant, David's POV for sometime around S5E12 The Roast (Title from Tina Turner's "Acid Queen")

When the Winter Snow Falls on Chicago [david/patrick, T, 11,696] by @trueillusion82

A sick and miserable David and a very chatty Patrick are accidentally assigned the same hotel room after a snowstorm strands them both in Chicago. And, of course, there's only one bed.

you're the star on the top of my tree [david/patrick, T, 10,392] by @schittposting

Patrick Brewer comes to Schitt's Creek with a goal: drive Rose Apothecary out of business so Christmas World can take over its space. He's not counting on falling for its owner.

2022

He Shines [patrick & marcy, G, 5,597] by @smallumbrella369

Marcy Brewer's experience of watching her son break apart, break away, and break free.

Nature is Loud! [david/patrick, G, 400] by @legalgal421

David wants Patrick to make the noises stop. A ficlet

The Kiss That Kills [david/patrick, T, 14,411] by @beaiola

When Patrick asks out his long term crush, his best friend David is there to listen to him talk through the details and, when certain doubts emerge, offer some help of his own. Patrick's reaction to David's assistance leads to some surprising revelations. Written for the SC Media Fest and inspired by the movie Some Kind of Wonderful.

When I Was Younger [clint/marcy, G, 2,417] by @treluna4

Patrick goes home to visit his parents the spring after he married David and he and Marcy go on a hike. They stop by a lake and Marcy reveals some secrets from her past.

2023

A Hard Knock Life [with fan art] [david & sebastien, T, 155 + art] by mallpretzles

David moves to the city looking for a new start but will he find it?

Niblings [gen, G, 969] by @wearpersistencewell

Alexis has twins, and David thinks about what being an uncle means.

2024

lavender, rosemary, thyme, and sage [alexis/twyla, G, 300] by @a-noble-dragon

Twyla’s been practicing smoke cleansing for years. It restores the physical, mental, and emotional balance; while also cleansing her work space of negative energies.

Shades of Blue [david/patrick, G, 300] by @stargazer56

Patrick's thoughts during the conversation with David, Stevie and Jake in Stevie's apartment.

Simply the Zest [david/patrick, G, 100] by @a-noble-dragon

Cocktail hour at The Wobbly Elm.

Stats:

No fanworks for 2017 or 2018 2019: 3 fics/8,777 words 2020: 10 fanworks (9 fics, 1 podfic)/86,436 words 2021: 19 fanworks (12 fics, 4 podfics, 1 fanart, 2 combos)/97,630 words 2022: 4 fics/22,825 words 2023: 2 fanworks (1 fic, 1 combo)/1,124 words 2024: 3 fics/700 words

[ezlo-x]

actually,,i have many thoughts in considering making a custom ganondorf doll. I have this old ww ganondorf toy that I have already modified before, I pretty much altered his face (my twt followers did not agree w me using full on acrylics for his face but oh well). but the idea of maybe going a little further and make him fully poseable has been resting in the back of my mind for a very long time. So I made a blueprint(?) of how I would possibly make this work. also maybe making him alternative accessories like different facial expressions and different hand poses.

tbh tho! I am also sharing this in hopes that others can possibly do this! maybe not needing the ganondorf toy as a base but just making it from scratch (even easier if you have a 3d printer)

[iarrelm]

An early morning conversation about tea got a little out of hand

[scoriarose]

Psst, other snake caretakers

I have an idea for April Fools-

who wants in? Private message me for deets.

[starlightswordfight]

UHH REMINDER ALSO SINCE I HAVE BEEN SHARING A LOT MORE NEGATIVE THINGS LATELY that amid literally everything that's been going on, there are still things that you can do to retain control in your life in at least some areas!! not everyone can actively protest right now, not everyone has the means and that is OKAY! do what you can when you can!!

this post is a wall of text of me rambling about things you can do Right Now in your community or to keep yourself happy and motivated and going. it's a long one so it's going under read more. I also talk a lot more in the tags

i also use terms like Current Events a lot so I also apologize for the vagueness in some places!! I do not know if this will get flagged if I get more specific and my account has tried to go down twice now

#1: BONDING WITH YOUR COMMUNITY (WITH PERSONAL SAFETY IN MIND)

getting involved in your local community is a big big big thing I've seen talked about lately and I agree with that entirely!! the #1 best thing I feel like anyone can do right now is either volunteering at local support groups or getting involved in local activism

if you have a local community you can connect with for whatever reason then that's absolutely a good idea for both practical and emotional reasons. it can be for anything really, actually. reach out to friends, reach out to family, keep talking to people if you have the energy! it really does make a difference!

^ related to the above, if you can involve yourself in volunteer work, or mutual aid, or just helping others out in some other way, then absolutely do that! you can start with asking around, or searching up aid or other groups that may need extra help in your area, and go from there!!

I see a lot of people have been saying for months to organize and then absolutely no one ever explains how to organize, and if you don't plan on starting something up Yourself that is how you get involved. you find like minded people and you lend your hands. I just looked up "volunteers needed/mutual aid [insert town here]" and went off of that

and there are a lot of different places people might need assistance for. one example being food banks, pantries, are basically always accepting new donations -- if you have produce, not all of them will accept it due to safety regulations, but a local community garden might! libraries also will exchange more than books, and protecting libraries by showing involvement and interest in them is important now more than ever

local businesses, emergency aid if you have the certification, environmental work and disaster cleanup, assisted living areas, shelters, a lot of other specific areas I can't name right now. if you are physically able to seek out support and give back in turn (and if you aren't able to do one or both of these that's also okay!!) i highly highly recommend it. mutual aid especially goes both ways. do not be afraid to reach out for help, that is what they're there for

speaking of libraries!

#2: KEEP INFORMED

this can refer to a lot of different things, but on a federal and local level it is never ever ever a bad thing to keep up to date with what's going on. anyone trying to do bad things on a government level is relying on you not noticing or staying uninformed in the invent that you do notice. keep track of what's going on in your area and plan accordingly!!

keeping up with the news (and fact checking, always, because journalism isn't always ethically practiced), finding where your local city hall or equivalent is and staying up to date on local legislation, has always been important for safety and especially is right now. know how to determine a reliable source from an unreliable one, and know how to pick apart the difference between fact and misconstrued ideas spoken as fact. I'll probably make a post on that too at some point and link it here when I'm done

it is overwhelming to hear just how much is getting worse so quickly, but it's crucial that you don't allow yourself to become unaware, because that makes you easier to lie to. you do not have to work yourself to burnout or to a breakdown, please take breaks whenever you need to and put your own health first!!

but don't do yourself the disservice of not knowing what's happening around you. I want everyone to be as safe as they can, and to be safe you have to be informed

#3: FIND SOMETHING TO LOOK FORWARD TO (AND ALSO KEEP CONTROL OF YOUR LIFE EVEN IF IT'S IN SMALL WAYS)

staying up to date on current events has been overwhelming for me, but it also has helped me to maintain a sense of control in my life. and there are a lot of other ways to do that, too, and also give you sources of happiness and things to still look forward to! I'm listing what works for me but I'm sure there's infinitely more ways to pull that off

taking up or getting back into hobbies or interests is a very effective way to keep joy in your life, and this goes double if you're sort of stuck in your house like I am most days. you should get to do things that make you happy!! you deserve to still have things to look forward to!!!

I've also been personally using my interests to try to learn how to do more practical things that might help me and the people I live with; I'm a gardener so I've been working on trying to grow food, starting with sweet peppers. don't know if I'll end up needing that one day (or if my neighbors might, but as the economy completely fucks itself it could get very useful very fast), but having the knowledge and the means helps me feel more in control of what happens in my personal life, and it really has made me feel better and have a source of hope

I really hope that everyone who sees this is doing as well as they're able right now. saying all of this because I don't want to contribute to any ideas of complete hopelessness, if that makes sense. there are things worth getting up in the morning for and every one of you matters and you deserve to be happy. and I love you /p

even if you aren't utilizing your hobbies in that way (again, PERFECTLY fine, do what you need to forever), something like that might be useful for you, too! you can learn new skills or read up on all those things you already wanted to look into but kept putting off, you can carve out a little space in your world for Joy and for Whimsy if you don't have one already! it's good for you!! it's incredible in fact!!

[pollen]

hi fellow neurodivergent people

i hate to jump on the "i think i might have adhd" bandwagon, but if i think i might have adhd, how do i bring it up to my care team as a 28-year-old cis woman who was a massive overachiever until i couldn't keep up the ruse anymore?

[msburgundy]

i really need to just let it go

[dykeseinfeld]

like. do relationships look hollow and silly on the outside bc they actually are. am i supposed to feel like i'm playing a part.