#Tristan's answer wins

[icedbatik]

My favorite answers from Taylor's latest survey ...

CCM

Sidney Crosby fishing

Which Penguins player could survive on a desert island?

Reilly Smith: I wouldn't say any of us!

P.O Joseph: Not Ned! I'm going to say Gravy. He's from the Maritimes, I feel like they know a little about the outdoors is my guess.

Lars Eller: Sid. He seems to be going different ways about things, about a lot of things. He doesn't rely too much on new technology, let's just say that.

Jake Guentzel: Sid. He's just an outdoorsman, that's kind of his vibe. I'm sure he could find something to live off of.

Chad Ruhwedel: Sid or Carts, or myself. They seem like they could handle themselves in a tough situation. I think I would do OK.

Kris Letang: Sid, he lives in the middle of the woods.

Erik Karlsson: Sid. I just feel like he would be very creative and would probably figure out a way to sustain himself for as long as he needed.

Marcus Pettersson: Raks is a good fisherman, but the problem is he's alone on that island. He doesn't touch the fish, he hates touching the fish. He doesn't do it. So it'd be a problem, he'd need somebody with him.

Rickard Rakell: I think Sid would do pretty well. I feel like he lives out in nowhere over the summer.

Sidney Crosby: I think I'd say Ricky (Rakell). He's pretty chill, I think he's got some survival instincts. He's got the tools.

Tristan Jarry: Tanger. He'd find someone to come pick him up.

[bluecollarmcandtf]

M O O N L I G H T ™

Chapter II

On my last sweep of the house, I check each pledge before the party. Moonlight™ is now partnered with Greek life on campus, and it's the perfect tool for hazing. As president, the app recognizes me as their manager, so I alone get to boss the mind controlled idiots around!

"Pledge!" I snap.

"Yes, brother, sir!" he barks back, yelling it loud and clear without any reservations.

I forget what his name is; Jason, maybe? As long as he's being puppetted around by the Moonlight™ app, it doesn't matter. He'll answer to anything I call him with a rigid smile and a purple stare. He might technically be asleep, but honestly I prefer underclassmen this way. They're much less annoying.

"Scrub these toilets good!" I sneer enjoying the way he hangs on my every word, "You're the janitor for Delt-Ep-Phi's party tonight! I don't want to see any shit or puke unless you're mopping it up! Got it?"

"Yes, brother, sir!"

Just like that, my obedient janitor agrees to my orders and resumes mopping like his life depends on it. At the very least, Moonlight™ has made these pledges more effective. It would have been impossible to force menial work on a freshman without getting a half-assed result. Too many of the guys at this school are rich kids from prep schools: the kind that would be mortified to be near a mop, let alone clad in some sticky maintenance uniform. I bet Jacob, or whatever the fuck his name is, would be mortified to find out that this thing hasn't been washed in years. We just keep throwing it in the closet for the next pledge we have moonlight as janitor. The only thing that makes the dank BO of the garb bearable is the accompanying scent of cleaning chemicals.

I ignore the smell and give the guy a slap on the neck, leaving him to mop the bathroom in silence. My next stop is the kitchen, where I check on my younger cousin Tristan. Tonight, he's just the dishwasher.

"Sup, dude," I say, "Grab me a beer."

"Yes, brother, sir!" he yells back like an army cadet, obediently fetching a bottle from the fridge and opening it for me.

"How's dish-duty?"

"It's amazing! I love being the dishwasher, brother, sir!" my cousin beams.

It's weird to see him like this; with glowing eyes and forced grin. The Tristan I know is charming and unbothered, normally gliding through conversation with subtle looks and gestures. He's normally got this cool style that wins over girls and intimidates guys, so it doesn't help that he's all dressed up in the frat's old dish-boy uniform. I really hate that an upperclassman wrote on his forehead. That'll make classes next week a bit awkward. I suppose it's just a normal part of hazing, and I'm not going to make an exception just because he's my family.

"You gonna be a good dishwasher for the party tonight?" I probe, taking a sip of beer.

"Yes, brother, sir!" he declares, "I'll be ready at the sink for anything that needs cleaned, and I'll be ready to refill any of my brother's drinks."

"That's right, and remember only brothers can get a refill. Girls have to ask one of us to get it from you," I make sure to clarify. It makes it a lot easier to pick up girls when they have to approach us for their next drink. If only I could use Moonlight™ on them to put them to work as the frat's strippers or something. That'd really be getting the most out of the app!

Heavy bass blares from the other room: the party's getting started. I've already spent too much time with Tristan, so I say bye to my cousin and head on out to the main area.

Standing by the door is our coat rack: his name's Kyle, and he's much better as furniture.

"Your arms tired yet, Kyle?" I sneer.

"No, brother, sir!" he grins back.

I laugh a bit when I notice someone wrote a 'kick me' message, pointing at his crotch. A guy like Kyle could definitely use a good kick in the nuts. The freshman came to our call-out with an insanely high opinion of himself. He seemed to think he had every right to get in because he was a legacy. Apparently, his dad is rich alumni so we couldn't refuse him, but that didn't make him immune to our new hazing ritual via Moonlight™. He definitely got the worst job in the house. He might not be scrubbing toilets or cleaning dishes, but his arms are sure to be sore as fuck by morning; not to mention all the kicks in the groin he's guaranteed to get!

"Are you gonna hold those coats, pledge?" I snarl in his face, getting only a cold smile in return.

"Yes, brother, sir!"

"And why is that?" I spit menacingly.

"Because I'm a coat rack, brother, sir!"

"That's right, and coat racks don't react when they get a kick in the balls, right?"

"No, brother, sir!"

With a chuckle, I swing my foot into his crotch. Kyle jerks, but his lips remain stretched across his face in a toothy grin. His body can't help but flinch at the sudden pain, but it only takes a second for Moonlight™ to reassert control. Barely a few seconds have passed and he's back, stiffly holding his arms out, sweating from the effort of being completely still.

"Thank you, brother, sir!" he manages to say. I guess one of the upperclassmen told Kyle to thank anyone who gives him a kick. That'll be a fun little party trick!

I give the guy a little slap on the face before I leave. Tonight's party is gonna be off the hook! I've still got some time before it starts, maybe I can catch a minute to relax in my room. It's not that late yet, but I'm starting to feel the effects of a long day. I'd love to just lay down, even just for a second.

Unfortunately, I fall asleep...

The next day, I wake up when my phone dings with a notification from the frat group chat...

"What the fuck!" I jump out of bed, "What is this picture?"

Though I don't want it to be true, the picture appears to be me. I'm dressed up like some stupid waiter, with the same cringe smile and glowing eyes as any the other Moonlight™ employee, but that can't be right. We only use the app on pledges! There's no way in hell any of my brothers would sign me up like this!

I rack my brain for any memory of last night's party, trying to recall any clue that'll tell me this picture is a lie. The endeavor only hurts my head, but I do notice that I feel unusually sweaty for having just gotten an entire night's rest. My arm feels sore, and my pajamas feel awkward like I was drunk pulling them on.

"Dude, you were a great manservant last night!" one text reads.

"Totally think you should quit that finance degree and be a full-time butler!"

"I could get used to you fetching us drinks and giving us foot rubs!" another adds, "We should have done this years ago!"

I stare at the texts in horror and step into my bathroom. Sure enough, I see the word 'buttler' written across my forehead in sharpie. Someone must have thought it was hilarious to draw a stupid goatee on my face as well. My eye twitches as I stare at my reflection, rage boiling up inside of me.

"Why the fuck did you do that to me!" I text back, "I'm the fucking president!" Even through the phone, my words drip with malice.

"Don't dish out what you can't take!" one replies simply, "Just a prank, bro!"

I try to slow my breaths, but my fists are clenched painfully tight. I'm gonna beat whoever's idea this was! It's one thing for us to use Moonlight™ on freshmen, but I'm a senior and I refuse to spend my last year in this frat moonlighting as a butler! I'm supposed to be getting drunk and laid at these parties! Not marching around with a bowtie and silver tray, serving drinks and whatever the fuck else!

"I wouldn't get yourself too worked up, dude," a guy texts, "You might be in control now that your awake, but remember you're at our whim the second you fall asleep. I could have you scrubbing the floor with your toothbrush tonight if you don't behave yourself. Lol."

The message makes me see red, but he's right. An overwhelming sense of helplessness falls over me. I could beat those fuckers up now, but what would that make them do later? They already wrote on my face with permanent ink! What if they made me shave my head or get a tattoo! Fuck!

This can't be legal, but honestly, I have no idea what the contract stated when we signed up for the app! How do I even go about cancelling this Moonlight™ job? The tech is so convoluted and hard to use!

In the meantime, I'll be lucky if all they make me do is serve them their drinks and do their chores. I guess I can live with that for a short while.

With a grimace of resignation, I text back, "Good one, guys."

[cameronspecial]

It's All Fun And Games

Pairing: Dad!Drew Starkey x Reader

Warnings: N/A

Pronouns: She/Her

Word Count: 0.6K

Summary: Drew likes to come up with games to entertain his children.

Masterlist

Drew knows that going out in public can be a little boring for his kids, especially since they aren’t allowed screens or toys when they do. So, Drew’s solution is to create games for them. Y/N’s hand is in Millie’s while Drew holds Tristan’s. The family approaches the elevator, which causes the children to release themselves from their parents’ hold. Each child runs to a different elevator and grins at their father once they are ready. “Three. Two. One,” Drew counts down before pressing the down button to call the elevator. They wait for a few seconds and the ding notifies them that they will soon be entering the metal contraption. The doors in front of Millie open and she lets out a cheer. “Congrats, Mills,” Drew congratulation, ushering his family into the elevator. Miller runs to the console and presses the button that Drew shows her. Tristan looks at his sister with a hint of jealousy, “I’m going to win next time.” Drew gives his son a soft smile and picks his son up. “I’m sure you will win the elevator game next time, Tris.”

—

Y/N needed some time by herself and Drew could sense that, so he took the kids out to get some ice cream. As he watches his children munch on their ice cream, an elderly lady walks by and sits a few tables down from them. The bag she is carrying almost rivals her size and he points it out to his kids. He leans in closer to his kids, “What do we think is in her bag?” Understanding what their father is doing, their faces light up. “I think she has lots and lots of candy in her bag that she likes to share with little kids,” Millie responds. Tristan thinks about it for a second, “She has many bouncy balls.” Drew chuckles at their responses. “And what would she do with all of the bouncy balls? Millie says she likes to share the candy, so what’s the story behind the bouncy balls?” Drew provokes. Tristan answers immediately, “Because she is a super secret spy, who uses balls to put people to sleep.” “That is a very interesting story,” Drew says. The What’s in the Bag game is one of Drew’s favourites because it shows his children’s imagination. 

—

The last game drives Y/N crazy, but she secretly loves it. The family is running errands at Target when the kids grow tired of the shopping. Drew can see this, so he pulls out the stickers he keeps in his wallet. He hands Millie the sheet with purple hearts, Tristan the one with pink hearts and keeps the orange hearts for himself. He starts off the game by patting his wife on the back while kissing her on the cheek. She doesn’t feel the press of the sticker onto her shirt. The next sticker that finds its way onto Y/N is given by Tristan, who pretends that he wants to be picked up by his mother. He risks placing it onto her shoulder as she picks him up. Millie gets one onto Y/N’s knee when the daughter is playing between the mother’s legs. The game comes to an end because of Drew. He tries the same tactic again; however, this time, he tries pressing it against the hem of her t-shirt sleeve. Y/N separates their lips at the feel of the sticky substance of the sticker on her arm. Drew had missed her shirt. She looks at her husband and then at her children’s wide grin. 

She pieces the puzzle together and unravels herself from her husband's hold. “Seriously, My Love? I thought I took all your stickers,” she questions. He gives her a sheepish smile, “You did, except you forgot that I have my own credit card.” She shakes her head with slight annoyance. “I married a child. I hate these games,” she mumbles as she picks off all the stickers her family has put on her. Drew pouts and nears her with his lips, “Come on, Sweetheart. It’s all fun and games.”

Taglist: @winterrrnight @loves0phelia @thelomlisrafecameron @victory-in-the-llama @drewsmusee @starkowswife

[jonquilyst]

Day 0 - Introduction

🎵 Dear Mom and Dad, I’m doin’ fine. You guys are on my mind… 🎵

Welcome to the premiere of THE 2ND SEASON of Total Drama Sims: the hottest, freshest reality TV show on simblr. I'm your host jonquilyst, though if you tuned in to the show last season, you'll already know who I am!

14 more teenagers have gathered to put their wits, guts, and strength to the test to seek out the ✨ grand prize. ✨ Like last season, they will compete in crazy challenges, deal with less-than-perfect living arrangements, and face the judgement of each other!

🎵 You asked me what I wanted to be, and I think the answer is plain to see… 🎵

🎵 I wanna live close to the sun. Pack your bags 'cause I’ve already won… 🎵

Allow me to give you the grand tour of the no-longer-abandoned film lot we claimed for this season! Instead of cabins, contestants will be staying in these cramped trailers, just like actors on set! There's one for each team with 7 beds each and complimentary bathrooms.

Our mess hall is a bit less rustic than the one we had at the summer camp, but it's got that same ol' charm with 2 dining tables and a small living area for everyone's convenience!

Now, on to the fun part: replacing the shoddy outhouse, our contestants' destination for providing their juicy confessionals will be a makeup trailer right behind the trailers! Get used to it: it'll appear every single day with a different contestant providing their thoughts.

And finally, the auditorium! This will be the site of our ever-so-exciting elimination ceremonies. In front of it is the walk-of-shame, where losers will say goodbye to Total Drama Sims to catch the lame-o-sine at the very end!

🎵 Everything to prove nothing’s in my way. I’ll get there one day! 🎵

Now, allow me to formally introduce you to our 14 new contestants!

(from left to right; top to bottom)

(also fun fact: the poses are all different this time, so everyone's portrait is truly unique to them!)

ASHLEE SCHAEFER (she/her) by @shmoodlet - A rap artist who always wants to be the center of attention

BRODY SHERMAN (he/him) by @aniraklova - A football captain who loves to party and cause mischief

COFFEE BEAN (she/her) by @riverofjazzsims - A gloomy and introverted polyglot who was entered into the competition by her twin sister so she can have more typical teenager experiences

DREW PINTO (she/they) by @witheringscreations - A talented track athlete who wants to make friendships outside of those she trains with

ENZO ESPINOZA (he/him) by @seyvia - A handsome model who wants to prove to his brothers that he's the most exceptional sibling

FLO HARPER (she/her) by @akitasimblr - A nosy "rebel" (she only dresses the part) who secretly loves to bake

HANS SOMME (he/him) by @ethicaltreatmentofcowplants - A physically gifted, socially inept snob who doesn't think TDS will be that hard

LIANA MORRIS (she/her) by @bloomingkyras - An introverted computer whiz who chose to compete in TDS so she wouldn't have to go to her grandparents' house

NEAL WARD (he/him) by @nakasumi-sims - Son of famous actor Judith Ward. Judith signed him up for TDS2 so he could be occupied while she's filming overseas

PAULINA CALLAWAY (she/her) by @cowplant-ate-my-sim - A cheerful girl who signed up for TDS so she could have a free vacation

TAKASHI ABBOTTSFORD (he/him) by @stargazer-sims - A friendly and talkative boy who thinks he'd be good at TDS due to growing up in a large chaotic family

TONI STROUD (she/her) by @simsinfinitylt - A creative and imaginative thespian who is determined to make a name for herself

TRISTAN BACHMAN (he/him) by @micrathene-w - A snarky academic genius who accidentally arrived at TDS when he was meant to go to his academic decathlon meet

WILLABELLE LOWES (she/her) by @invisiblequeen - An overachiever who is confident she'll win TDS

🎵 I WANNA BE, I WANNA BE, I WANNA BE FAMOUS! 🎵

Wait... What About Teams?

Yea... about that: teams will be sorted a little differently this season! Instead of randomized teams right away, they are being formed after the first socialization day, when everyone has time to form relationships! Shortly before the first challenge, two people will be selected at random to be the "captains" of the teams. From there, they will select their teammates schoolyard-style (alternating between boys and girls) based on their relationships with the other contestants!

[idkiwasntsupposedtobebackhere]

rating all the beefs between rory’s love interests:

4. dean VS logan. they saw eachother one time and dean just decided to drive away and never see rory again instead of entering his third homoerotic love triangle situation. i guess they do learn. the narrative told us that rory is ready to date rich guys now. the narrative is NOT gonna make me feel bad for dean. pretty boring, nothing happened. 5/10

who did i root for? i was ready for dean to gtfo already but you’re not gonna catch me saying i rooted for logan in any situation. let’s go with nobody. if they actually would have interacted it would have been such a loser-off. i still think emily and lorelai respectively are the ones who actually wanted these men for rory.

3. dean VS tristan. the first one. will always be funny. I’LL CALL YOU WHEN I NEED MY TAXES DONE is one of dean’s maybe 2 contributions to the series. he made me chuckle once, okay. barely. these two morons fighting over season one rory who just wanted to read thick books at benches and didn’t gaf is so unserious. respect to my girl, though. this was the strong start of several similar situations. poor rory. 6/10

who did i root for? tristan is hotter, more charismatic and just, you know, not dean. but rory did want to be with dean (for some reason) and clearly didn’t want to be with tristan (who just couldn’t get the hint already). so i guess my answer here is nobody too. i don’t like to see dean winning, so i’m not gonna contribute to that

2. logan VS jess. jess ended team logan on a striking level. like woah. self-made, hot, unbothered, funny. logan was catching strays here, holy shit. it was incredible to watch. one of the best episodes of the show. who i rooted for is pretty clear. 9/10. this beef, however, will never top…

1. jess VS dean. 10/10. chef’s kiss. mwuah. the tension😭😭😭😭 the way they focused more on their feud with eachother than actually dating rory. the way they went out of their way to find the other around town to deliver a threatening message or just annoy the other. (also the way they made fun of the other’s shitty job while having a shitty job themselves. like whatever makes you feel better😭). the way jess bought that basket just because dean looked all tall and mad and it was funny😍 the way dean was bothered as hell by jess before jess even knew who he was😭😭😭😭😭 you just know they wrote angry diary entries about eachother. as you can see, dean is dominating this list and is in a situation such as this every thursday, but you just know this one hit different for him.

just kiss already. that’s what i rooted for.

[bellaxgiornata]

Honestly I cannot believe that I've been on tumblr for just over a year now and somehow there's already so many of you wonderful people here that are reading, enjoying, and supporting my silly little fics. When I jumped over here from AO3, I had not anticipated how much fun I was going to have getting to chat with all of y'all while also sharing my stories with those of you who aren't on AO3. I've definitely made some wonderful friends this past year because of tumblr and I just want to say thank you to everyone for the support. I always mean it when I say y'all are the reason I keep writing these stories 💖

I could certainly get sappier but instead I'll just invite y'all to join me for my first ever celebration! There's a few fun things below the cut that y'all can pop up with in my ask box starting today May 3 through Wednesday May 8! I tried to think of some interesting things that I could realistically make time to do with everything currently going on in my life, especially because I'm also still trying to stockpile rough drafts for many of my stories so that I can still have updates during my upcoming "writing hiatus" (that I'll explain more about later). My plan is to answer things as they come in and hopefully have them all finished shortly after the celebration ends. And once the celebration finally ends, I'm hoping to give y'all an update to a story or a one shot!

Hopefully this will be fun for everyone!

Let's Chat! - Feel free to send me an ask about anything at all! No, seriously. You want to tell me about your day? An upcoming vacation or exciting accomplishment of yours? Do it! Or maybe you want to ask me questions about one of my stories or my writing process? Hell, feel free to ask me about myself, chat about coffee, music, books, pets, whatever!

Discuss Headcanons with Me! - Have any headcanons about Matt Murdock, Frank Castle, or Michael Kinsella that you want to chat about or share with me? Send them in! Or are you interested in a headcanon I might have about one of them in a certain situation? Feel free to ask! We can chat about the boys!

Send Me Fake FFTD Installment Titles! - Create a title name for an installment for my Falling for the Devil series (ex. "The [insert title]") and I'll write a couple of sentences about what I could picture that installment being about! You win bonus points if you can actually stump me on coming up with a plot for your title. But also who knows, maybe some title suggestions could spark an idea for future updates...

Let's Play a Game! - We can play would you rather, have you ever, or fuck/marry/kiss (or kill). For the record, f/m/k can be with anyone from Daredevil, Punisher, Defenders, Kin, or even any of Charlie's characters that I'm familiar with (Matt, Michael, Owen, Henry, Tristan, or Adam) or those of Jon's that I'm familiar with (mainly Frank, Shane, or Julian). If you can think of another game feel free to play it with me!

Ask the Boys! - Do you enjoy my weird internal dialogues with fictional characters that probably make me sound crazy? Great! Feel free to send me an ask to either one or all of the fictional men that live in my head (Matt, Frank, and/or Mikey) and I'll relay whatever they respond with in something of a short internal dialogue!

Request a Sneak Peak! - Since I have been stockpiling quite a few WIPs and rough drafts for a couple of months now, I am open to y'all just requesting a sneak peak. If you do, I will share a snippet from a fic I choose at random from something that's either a fully finished rough draft or still a work in progress!

**You're more than welcome to participate multiple times, but all I ask is that you (1) send things in separate asks, (2) are not rude to me or anyone else, and (3) are 18+ to discuss anything spicy (this is an 18+ blog anyway so I'd hope everyone here already is).**

[gx-gameon]

DM power point party

My friends and I have done one to many power point parties recently. (An excellent time highly recommend)

But it got me thinking about the DM crew and what they would do for a power point party. Because all it is is info dumping about whatever you want.

Téa: different styles of dance and why you should learn.

Complete with demonstrations.

She makes them all try at least one dance move.

Tristan: which duel monsters I could beat in a fist fight.

He goes hard.

It’s a complete guide of the monsters attack and defense points, as well as any flavor text.

He then says if he would fight them or not “I wouldn’t fight Dark Magician because he’s Yugi’s ace and he wouldn’t fight me, Battle Ox on the other hand is Kaiba’s monster and I’m punching it in the face.”

He tends to states if he could win or not. Some of them are wild over estimations of his own strength but it’s all in good fun.

Yugi: the game I think represents each of you best.

He’s gone through and matched their personalities with different board games.

Some are based on the way they think. Kaiba is strategic so he would get get chess (he would also be low key upset if he didn’t get chess or Duel monsters) although you could also give him a resource management game like Catan, I’d be scared to play Catan with Kaiba

Others are based on vibe alone.

Téa gets a corporative game where the players have to work together to win (something like Magic Maze; a great game!)

Joey would probably also get a team game or a corporative game. He is competitive but he also loves his friends and is very loyal.

This maybe a creative ploy to try and get the others to play more board games with him (as some one who loves board games I approve)

Joey: ranking all the people I’ve dueled by how much they annoy me.

He’s poking fun at everyone. It’s light hearted for the most part, and is not based on any skill.

It’s mostly so he poke fun at Rex, Wevil, and Kaiba who is not impressed.

Joey ranks them from most annoying to least annoying.

Mai takes third. She’s his friend but she can drive him mad in a duel.

“Second is the Pharaoh, you’re always respectful and dramatic but there is one person better than you” Yugi is siting their confused because who’s better thank the Pharaoh but Yami/Atem already knows the answer

The winner is a Yugi his best friend and least annoying person. “Yug’s the best person to duel and my favorite buddy.”

Yami/Atem: Which duel monsters card represent you all best

He knows exactly which monster is their spirit card

He might give 3 option and let them pick their favorite.

He knows what their soul card is but it’s fun for him to give them the option to pick and watch them pick their soul card every time.

Other ideas for Atem

Why I love all of you

Very sweet, thank you Atem.

Yugi would do this to.

modern day things that still confuse me.

It’s actually really fun as he puts things on the screen to tell his friends what he first thought each item was/did

Alternatively if this is after he has his memories “things that would send my Egyptian friends into a coma.”

But it’s Grandpa who’s gets everyone.

He video calls Prof Hawkins in. The Professor was more than happy to do a short power point about his research.

He finishes and asks Solomon what his presentation is. He’s expecting his old friend to do something about games

Solomon smirks as he opens his slides

Why my grandchildren are better than yours

Grandchildren? Let him explain

The next slide is a picture of Yugi “my grandson, the King of Games”

The next slide a picture of Yami/Atem “my other grandson, he was once the Pharaoh of Egypt.”

Atem is greatly touched by the sentiment, but it’s the next slide that gets everyone.

The next slide is a picture of Joey, Téa and Tristian “my adopted grandchildren, Joey is a world class duelist I should know I taught him myself! Téa is going to be a world renowned dancer! And Tristian is an incredible mechanic and sharp shooter (according to the manga) I’m so proud of them.”

The whole group is shocked. Solomon goes along with his presentation, it’s just him boasting about all of their accomplishments to Arthur.

Joey is in tears by the end. “You think of me as your grandson?”

Yugi just smiles at him “of course he does, you’re family.”

[tansyuduri]

Merlin Loregasm Rewatch S1E9

Hi Everyone! Welcome to my rewatch of Merlin focusing on the lore. I am a giant nerd so pretty excited about this. We’re on EXCALIBUR

Uther: Do you solemnly Swear to govern the peoples of this kingdom and their dominions according to the statutes, customs, and laws, Laid down by your forebearers,

Arthur: I do Sire

Uther: Do you promise to exercise mercy and justice, in your deeds and judgments?

Arthur: I do Sire

Uther: And do you swear allegiance to Camelot now and for as long as you shall live?

Arthur: I, Arthur pendragon, do pledge life and limb to your service And to the protection of the kingdom and it's peoples.

Uther: Now, being of age, And the Heir apparent, from hence forth you shall be crown prince of Camelot Okay so Arthur is now crown prince of Camalot. And of age. we know hes at Least 20 so of age is likley 21 in this world which is interesting because it implies lifespans are longer due to the more advanced medicine, Normally the medieval OF AGE was 16 years old. Also, see the golden ring placed around Arthurs head? Yeah thats called a Coronet and was traditionally worn by crown princes at formal occasions (Like we will see Arthur do)

It is a bit odd he was not considered crown prince already since he was the oldest royal child (And only royal child as far as people know) So even if Primogeniture (Inheridence by oldest son) was not a thing he would STILL be crown prince. See a crown prince IS the heir apparent of a royal kingdom. And Heir apparent is the one who is going to succeed the king. And cannot be displaces by the birth of another prince. So if he was heir apparent he pretty much was already was Crown prince. My guess is this is traditionally reaffirmed in Camalot when a prince comes of age,

I also like the use of the word peoples because it kinda hints that Camalot is big enough to have multiple peoples within its lands. Which if the theory from the Lancelot episode is true would be the case.

WHOOO Okay I think we have an answer. Devil is VERY Christian. So I'm going with there being some very weird semi paganized version of Christianity existing in Camalot that is left over from the Romans and just got mixed with local traditions. I therorized about this in one loregasm and I'm sticking with it because they ARE VERY MUCH not full on Catholic or Eastern Orthadox. And there are still a lot of pagan elements.

Throwing down a Gauntlet as a challenge is a custom of the late medieval era. It was considered a GRAVE insult and HAD to be picked up to accept the challenge if one wanted to keep ones honnor.

HI Sir Owain! Lesse in the original legends you were a Child of Urrian of Gore and Morgana. You had a pet Lion! You defeated a evil knight and married his widow, Then neglected your wife because you were too busy doing knight stuff. She ditches you and you go mad with grief and live naked in the woods. Then Morgana cures you and you win back your wife. Also, you are one of the last to die before Arthur at Cammlan. Have I mentioned how much I love that Merlin sometimes just goes NAH let's kill em instead?

Geof: Gaius thank god

Gaius: you know why I'm here

Geof: The black knight

Gaius: So it is he

Geof: you saw his crest

Gaius: have you confirmed it?

Geof: it is the crest of Tristan De Bois

Gaius: And he is the only knight ever to have carried such a crest

Geof: yes acording to the records

Okay this is a HUGE boon for us lore wise, See we don't know that much about the personality of Yygraines family. (or a ton about her's for that matter) BUT if it's his crest not a family crest it means HE picked it. So we can use heraldry to learn a bit about him!

So the symbol he uses is an Eagle this represents strength and courage and often has to do with military skill and leadership. It can also represent freedom, and independance and the ability to see things clearly. black represents constancy or grief and white peace and sincerity.

So Tristan was likely a strong man and military leader who was sincere and constant in his personality. He likley tended to perfer peace but when pushed to it would fight well. He might have been independent minded as well showing by making his own crest.

OOCLY the show could be telling us that it is likley telling us this man was RIGHT about Uther being at fault. One way or another. And his act in standing up to Uther was a courageous one. OR its also possible he took up this sigil after Ygraines's death If so his very crest and oufit is blaming and taunting Uther! But that is just my assessment!

HI Sir Pellinor! Lesse in the original legends you were the king of Listeoise (Lake District) Or of "the Illes." You killed king Lot, And hunted the Questing Beast relentlessly. You were killed by Gwaine. You were also Percival's dad. (Among other kids.)

Othanden can mean Out Of Hand in Danish. Otherwise I cannot find much on this. My guess is this battle would have taken place in the previously mentioned war with Mercia

Gaius: Tristan De Bois was the brother of Ygraine -- Uther's wife

Merlin: Arthur's Mother?

Gaius: Ygraine died in childbirth. He blamed Uther and came to the gates of Camalot and Challanged him.

Merlin: to single combat?

Gaius: Uther won, but with his dying breath Traistan cursed Camalot to one day suffer his return. I thought it was the ramblings of a dying man. People Estimate the chances of death in childbirth in the middle ages to be the cause of 50 percent of young female fatalities. Giving birth was incredably dangerous. (And most woman did it many time though less so in the Merlin world) For in the actual birthing process and the chance of childbed fever afterward. So this is likley an early clue to the fact that there was somthing supernatural going on with Arthur's birth. No one in their right mind blamed a man for the death of their wife in childbirth ESPECIALLY if said wife was having their first birth and not too old or too young.

Now in the Merlin world I would guess death in childbirth of woman is at a much lower rate. For two reasons. First of all The more advanced medicine would make it a bit less common. (Though they do not have modern medicine or germ theory or modern technology so not by much) The other reason being IN merlin families seem to be small compared to the huge ones of the middle ages. (Hinting Child Mortality is not as high) So less chances for a woman to die. STILL it likely would have been fairly common.

Now to the interesting fact that Ygraine came from France! Implying contact and trade with them. See Ygraine is the french version of Arthur's mother's name And we've talked about the last name in previous posts.

"Came to the gates of Camalot castle and challenged him" is interesting because it means he was not in Camalot. SO HOW would he know about Uther's involvement in Ygraine's death? My guess is it lies in the "one day suffer his return" See here we have another "How would he know." My guess is the man was some sort of seer. Or magic user. Ygraine was said to have been pretty friendly with many magic users. It's possible magic (or being a seer) ran in her family. The other option of her somehow writing him and knowing about the whole magic to conceive thing is also possible but doesn't explain knowing he would return, Nimue could just have been using something he said randomly but I don't really think so? OR he was just crazy? And was attacking Uther for what he thought was a normal childbirth death? That would be REALLY weird. though. And the later "it was magic that killed her not I" and "never the less it was you he blamed" Seems to go against this option

Gaius: My guess is we're dealing with a Wraith.

Merlin: A wraith?

Gaius: The spirit of a dead man conjured from the grave.

Merlin: So this is the work of a sorcerer

Gaius: Powerful Magic can harness the greif and rage of a demanted soul and make it live again

Merlin: How do we stop it?

Gaius: We can't, Because its not alive no mortal weapon can kill it

Merlin: Surly there must be somthing

Gaius: Nothing can stop it until it has achived what it came for

Merlin: And what's that

Gaius: Revenge.

Wraith is a Scottish word for ghost that has become a more general term. It can also mean the exact likeness of a person seen before death as a death omen, (A soul who was on the verge of death or recently passed on) From there the meaning has evolved to many many different things.

Geoferry is not in on it! Its likely Arthurs birth magic is not in the court records of the purge! (Theorized about this perviously)

Uther: Havn't you tired of revenge?

Nimueh: Haven't you? You Began this war when you threw me from the court and salughtered all of my kind

Uther: you brought it on yourself you practiced evil

Nimueh: I was your freind Uther, You welcomed me here

Uther: you betrayed that freindship

Nimueh: I did as you asked I used the magic you so despise to give your barren wife the son you craved

Uther: Don't ever speak of her in that way She was my heart, My soul, and you took her from me.

Nimueh: She died giving birth to your son. it was not my choice. That is the law of Magic. to create a life there had to be a death, the balance of the world had to be repaired

Uther: you knew it would kill her

Nimueh: No you're wrong. If I had forseen her death and the terrible retrebution you would seek. I would never have granted your wish.

Ok first of all we know from later Nimugh has a bit of control of who dies. Hinting that something interfered here causing it to be Ygraine. (I totally don't have headcanons about this you will eventually see in my fics)

ALSO, I find it interesting he says "Evil" not "evil sorcery," I think he truly belives all magic is evil. I mean every villain is a good guy in their own mind.

BUT he was also freinds with Nimueh and welcomed her to Camalot. So he didn't always think all magic was evil. It seems it truely was Ygraines death that caused that. I always wondered if part was just an excuse in his mind because he was insecure that other people had so much power and perhaps helped him build the kingdom with it. So they could tear it down. I think Nimueh was court sorcerer. And helped him take over the kingdom, but that's just my headcannon.

Also gotta wonder what kinda person Ygraine was that Uther fell so deeply in love with her.

Geoff: Well several fables speak of Ancient swords

=Merlin: that can kill the dead?"

Geoff: The swords the fables speak of could destroy anything alive or dead.

Merlin: can you show me one of these fables"

Geoff: welll let me think, yes

(Later)

Goef: this is the chronicle of Beltane, now then, ah were we are 'Sir Marhaus looked at the great sword, begotten in the dragons breath and found it passing good"

Sir Marhaus was the son of the king of ireland and his sister was the queen of Ireland and a knight of the Round Table in folklore. Beltane as we addressed is celebrated may 1st! So this book is the chronicles of a holiday on May 1st

Merlin: I've come to ask for a sword. The strongest sword your father's ever made

Gwen: What for?

Merlin: To save Arthur (Cut to latter but continuation of this scene so keeping it here)

Gwen: My father's been saving this. Hes always said it was the best sword he's ever made.

Merlin: its perfect

Gwen: He'll kill me if he find's I've taken it

Merlin: He'll understand, You did it for arthur. I've talked about this before but this is more evidence that Gwen's family, while commoners, are not the same level of poor as most. Making swords and armor, especially good ones was a skilled art. And those things were EXPENSIVE. Tom is not the royal swordsmith so its HIGHLY likely he rivals the royal swordsmith in skill enough to have some knights of Camalot (The people who can actually afford arms and armor) Buy or get repairs done from him instead. (This is a big deal he must be VERY good) There are not many other people he could be making swords and armor for. I suppose there might be some mercenaries and freelancers who are rich enough for swords and perhaps VERY RARLY full on armor. He makes armor that is of the quality nobles wear, And can afford to just give it to people. we know this from Lancelot. I think he must do other typical blacksmithing AND Arms and armor for knights. So I see two possibilities. Either they consistently live at a level above the poverty of most commoners

OR Every now and then he gets a commission that makes them richer for a bit. With Gwen ALSO being such a good seamstress and Also considering they seem to be able to give away armor (Cough Lancelot cough) I think the first option is more likely, or perhaps its a mix of the two. To be clear they are not rich. I'm not saying they are rich. I'm saying they seem to be above most commoners in wealth. Also, wealth did not matter as much as Class in the middle ages anyway.

Him putting his best sword away might be some form of insurance He's still a commoner and is not guaranteed work because he is not the royal smith. And what if there is some emergency or a time when he doesn't get any of the fine commissions for a while?

Uther: You knew that one day this business would come back to haunt me.

Gaius: not quite so litteraly

Uther: I should have listened to you. You said that no good would come of using witchcraft at Arthur's birth

Gaius: you wanted an heir you thought it was the only way.

Uther: Nimueh told me there would be a pice to pay

Gaius: You weren't to know that price would be Ygraines life

OKAY first of all does this mean that GAIUS was not the one to suggest using magic? Then WTF was Uther talking about in that conversation about something being stupid to do "because Gaius said it was so" back in the poisoned chalice? Was Gaius just the messanger? It means it might explain more why Gauis lived if he was not the one to suggust it. Perhaps Uther asked Gaius if he knew a way and Gaius said he did but no good would come of it? Or Gaius was indeed just the messenger? BUT WHY DID HE NEED A MESSENGER IF NIMUEH WAS AT COURT. I swear when this is all done I'm going over all of these and doing a summary of possible answers to some questions!

Merlin: will your Bunrish it to save Arthur

Killy: The dead do not return without reason, who has he come for.

Merlin: Uther

Killy: Then let him take his Vengance and the wraith will die without my aid.

Merlin: But it's Arthur who is going to fight him! You have to save him

Killy: That is your destany young warlock not mine

Merlin: But if Arthur fights the wraith and dies camalot will have no heir, I will have no destany

Killy: A weapon forged with my assistance will have great power

Merlin: I know

Killy: You do not know You can only guess. You have not seen what I've seen. If you had perhaps you would not ask this of me.

Merlin: what do you mean?

Killy: In the wrong hands this sword could do great evil

Burnishing typically means polishing metal until it shines. Figuratively it can mean to enhance or perfect something. I think this is an interesting word to use and possibly implies a sword like Excalibur would never need to be polished again.

Also I'm pretty convinced one thing Killy is talking about here is how most of the high priestesses died. Remember mortal swords can not kill Morgana by the time of her death. There could be many other incidents too. However seeing as Excalibur mostly functions as a normal sword until one is up against undead or borderline imortals I think this could be a main focus. Of course it does bring up the question of if there were other swords and what happened to them if this is true. Because if this was the case I SERIOUSLY doubt Uther would have let such swords just vanish. Then again as far as we know the sword that killed Arthur was just used as a grave maker. ALSO as far as we know those are the only dragon-burnished swords we see in the show. Which means there are others either just hidden places, or out there with people having no clue as to their powers because they just found them somewhere and were like cool sword! The later kinda amuses me. Just some random dude around having no idea their sword is a WOID (Weapon Of Immortal Destruction)

Uther: Who made it?

Merlin: uh, tom the blacksmith

Uther: Its worthy of a king

Merlin: You would be better off with a sword your trusted

Uther: No, It has almost Perfect balance. Tom's not the Royal swordsmith I'm supprised Arthur went to him.

Merlin: That was me.

(This is the line I keep referring to about how Gwen's dad is not the royal swordsmith.)

The balance point on a sword is where you can lay it over a finger and not have it fall, Its center of weight. Usually its just a bit above the hilt. This is why most swords had pommels

If there is too much weight in the direction of the grip the trikes from it will not be fast and smooth, Also you will have a hard time pushing your opponents blade around. while if there is too much on the blade it will take longer to recover from a blow.

[a-casual-egg]

*Permission from Mrs. Hall to call her by her first name, Audrey

**(Excluding Siegfried and Tristan from this because if Siegfried was in this poll, he would obviously win, and if Tristan was in this poll, he would either come second place or win (with Siegfried not in the poll) and I want this poll to not have an obvious answer)

[lovethytendytenderly]

Have some flash fiction set after last night’s (10-14-24) win over MTL and based on this photo of EK and Tanger from Saturday’s game against TOR. cw dissociation, implied subdrop, bdsm-au

It’s not until Tristan gets off the ice that he feels himself slipping. He’d felt fine throughout the game, locked in and leaving nothing to chance at the end with the net at the other end of the ice empty. He’d felt good through the congrats line, the feeling of accomplishment thrumming through him. It was only after fist bumping Sid and Tanger and getting off the ice that he felt part of himself start slipping away. It wasn’t fast. He knows what it feels like to go slip sliding over the edge into a drop faster than he can get the words out. They’ve got rules in place for what to do if that happens. This wasn’t that.

What it was, was a gentle quieting of his head with every piece of gear he took off. He wasn’t tired, the dragging weight of exhaustion at the edge of his senses was the normal amount after playing a full game, not something excessive. He just, could feel himself slipping away. He was on autopilot when the helmet came out and Tristan was just aware enough to feel thankful when Joel gave the helmet to Lars. He’s not sure he could have taken it and pretended everything was okay. Nothing was wrong, he would stress to him doms later. That’s why he didn’t seek them out. Nothing was wrong, Tristan just wasn’t all there.

Kris noticed because Kris always notices. Tristan was in the middle of his post game routine when Kris found him to check in; Kris’s big hand landing solidly on Tristan’s shoulder and anchoring him to the spot. The defenseman had finished talking to the media and was making his rounds of the locker room. Tristan was doing okay; his routine was just going slower than he normally liked. He wasn’t experiencing any of the things they had rules about, and those were mostly for bad games anyway. They’d won. He’d won. The boys had scored six for him the way they hadn’t been able to a week ago. Tristan could see the satisfaction and pride in the set of the shoulders of his teammates. Kris had that smug air about him that he always got after he scored. Usually Tristan would rile him up, tease him for scoring when his first priority should be defense. Tristan didn’t have it in him tonight. Words hadn’t left him — this wasn’t one of his nonverbal episodes — which meant he was able to answer all of Kris’s questions when he checked in. Whatever his dom saw he didn't like. They didn’t have anything planned tonight — post game then plane then home — but Kris took one look at him and changed that.

“Think you can hold on until we get home?” Kris asked.

Tristan couldn’t deny him anything, not with the weight of his stare or the hand on his shoulder grounding him in a way he hadn’t felt since he left his net the last time. Tristan nodded. Kris spent a couple more moments with Tristan, his hands wrapped around Tristan’s throat in mimicry of a collar, thumbs sweeping up and down in a soothing gesture. Tristan shuddered in the grip. Kris kept it up until the light in the goalie’s eyes had sharpened into something alert enough to get through the evening. Then Kris sent Tristan on his way. They both had routines to finish before they could get out of Bell Center.

If Tristan thought about it later, Erik bumping into him on the way to the team bus probably wasn’t an accident. At the time he was too pleased to see him to question the happenstance. Erik didn’t say anything, just gave him a big smile and took him by the wrist to lead him onto the bus. Tristan wished the seats were bigger, that there was space to kneel. The desire made itself known to Tristan only after Erik had paused at the front of the bus, hand closed securely around his wrist. It took everything in him not to slip to knees in the aisle. If Erik was aware of what Tristan wanted, he didn’t let on. Instead he led Tristan to an open pair of seats and sat him down in the window seat. Tristan let his head loll against the window and watched absentmindedly as the rest of the team filtered onto the bus.

After a moment, Erik returned from whatever he was doing to sit next to Tristan. Tristan didn’t move as the defenseman crowded into his space. Erik grabbed both of Tristan’s hands, squeezing them when he had them in his grip, before maneuvering them so that Tristan’s wrists were crossed in front of him. Erik let go of Tristan’s hands to hold Tristan’s wrists in place, the even pressure making it so that he could flex his fingers but not move out of Erik’s hold. Tristan felt an indefinable part of himself settle at the pressure. It’s not as good as the cuffs they have at home, but Tristan felt better having one of his doms’ hands on him. They stayed like that through the entirety of the bus ride to the airport. Tristan let his thoughts wander and didn't pay attention to the noise on the bus or the people coming to talk to Erik. If Tristan was needed, Erik would get his attention.

Eventually Erik had to let go so they can go through the airport. Customs will happen when they get back to Pittsburgh but there’s still more steps since they have to cross the border. Tristan feels adrift the minute Erik lets go, but moving through airports is muscle memory to him at this point in his career. He could probably navigate the whole thing blindfolded if one of his doms asked him to.

By the time Tristan makes it onto the plane, most of the team has already boarded. He scans the seats to see where he wants to sit. Kris meets his eye from where he’s ensconced in the back with Geno and the card game. If Tristan needed to, once they were in the air he could go and kneel at Kris’s feet and Kris would tangle his hand in the curls at the back of his neck and keep him there. Kris asked him to wait until they got home though and Tristan can do that for him. He’s stopped slipping, but the parts of his head that went quiet after the game haven’t turned back on.

His eyes find Erik next, tangled up with Rak and Petey, the pile of Swedes quietly celebrating Rak’s goal. Tristan doesn’t want to intrude on them even though he knows he’d be welcome. He hasn’t scened much with Rak, most of his history is with Petey and now Erik out of the Swedes on the team, but both Swedish switches have been nothing but good to him. Still, he’s already monopolized too much of Erik’s time tonight, he doesn’t want to take up the plane ride too.

He lets his eyes slide across the seats, taking in who’s where before eventually coming to a stop on the empty seat next to Ned. Ned’s suit is rumpled in a way that speaks to having spent the evening in it rather than a lack of care. He has his headphones in, studiously ignoring the steadily filling plane. Tristan finds himself drawn to the other goalie, feeling the pang in his chest he always gets when he has to deal with injured teammates who just want to play. Tristan is happy for Joel but he’s not Ned, and that burns a little.

Ned doesn’t look up when Tristan plops himself into the seat next to him, but he does lift the arm rest and open his arms so that Tristan can cuddle up to him. Tristan does so, leaning his head against Ned’s shoulder and letting himself relax in Ned’s embrace. The other goalie holds on tightly but doesn’t acknowledge him any more than that. That’s fine. Tristan doesn’t need anything else from Ned but this.

Kris comes to get him when the plane lands, pulling him out of Ned’s arms and bundling him off the plane. Eric is waiting at the bottom of the steps to take him while Kris goes to wrangle their luggage. Tristan didn’t drive to the airport so he doesn’t have to worry about leaving his car as Kris and Erik take him home. Tristan’s head is quiet during the drive, letting the conversation from the front seat wash over him and answering any questions directed his way. It’s late but he knows they aren’t headed to bed yet.

When they get to Kris’s house, Tristan goes straight for his pillow in front of the couch. He kneels there, sinking into the feeling of safety and the murmur of voices from the other room as Erik and Kris move around the house. It probably doesn’t take more than a couple minutes for them to join him in the living room but Tristan isn’t paying attention. He’s been drifting for a while now despite his best attempts to stay tethered. He doesn’t have to stay present anymore.

Despite drifting Tristan is aware enough to know when his doms join him in the living room. Kris sits down to his left, Erik to his right, both doms sitting so that their thighs are bracketing his shoulders, squeezing him between the two of them. Kris tangles his hand in the curls at the back of Tristan’s neck while Erik cups Tristan’s forehead where it’s pressed into the edge of the couch, pushing back Tristan’s bangs and following the motion until he’s petting Tristan’s head. Kris uses his grip to pull Tristan’s head back and Erik takes the opportunity to wrap Tristan’s collar around his neck. At the touches, Tristan feels himself sink. The rest of him slips away and he falls into that quiet space at the center of himself, safe in the knowledge he’s taken care of.

Tristan isn’t sure how long he’s down but when he comes back to himself he’s in their king sized bed, Eric cuddled up to his front and Kris behind him where he can keep watch over the both of them. Tristan blinks back to himself and yawns, interrupting whatever conversation was happening above him. Both doms focus in on him, Kris checking in while Erik rolls over to grab the Gatorade and snacks from the bedside table. They’ll need to have a conversation in the morning about tonight but Tristan is content where he is.

[sea-of-dust]

Aigami x GN! Reader

There's no summary my demons won. Wrote this during April fools watch it come out 3 months later.

Upd: it's july.... it's also my birthday🔥

He'd be on edge when he first meets you. As soon as you took interest in him he's already thinking that you might know something about the Plana. When finding out you're just someone interested in him he'd continue on with his act, would judge you without saying a word, but still hungout with you.

He'd fall hard, realizing it after a while but to everyone else it's aggressively obvious, the way he stares at you while you two talk and sudden dropping of the act around you kinda made it obvious to everyone in that classroom. "Aigami, did you get anything he just said?" "I did, not that I'd give it to you" he continues scribbling down the notes. "I know you remmber" he smirks to himself narrowing his eyes "and if I didnt?" You glare at him "I'll ask Bakura" never fails to get him to help you

He would get a little jealous, your one of his friends totally not crushes, you shouldn't talk to Joey for more than two secounds and not expect a certain cube person to just slide in and add nothing to the conversation just staring into Joey's soul. "It's too hot in this mask" "drink this" "ah thanks y/n AHHH" he jumps back covering his face, the mascots stuffed arms blocking him from view. "I can take this anymore, please buy him eye contacts" "I think he'd still do that" you sweat a bit

You got the pleasure of being the first person he asked for almost anything. "What's this?" He shows you a small toy with "B'LOONIES" in colorful bubbled letters near the top. "These you kinda blow into a straw and it makes plastic bubbles" "I see" this would also extend to certain brands, attractions, heck even games. You still told him about them without judging him, assuming he was just heavily sheltered. You'd notice this when you date him but he does stare alot at your face while you try to figure something out. When you're just friends the stares full of innocence and curiosity, as if excited for the answer, when you get closer to him however he looks with more uncaring eyes, still curious however lacking the child level curiosity as if only giving it to you just to watch and hear you.

He'd ask to go to places after school. Some girls talk about a spot? He's taking you. He dosent want you to go home even if you spend 8 hours a day with him just school alone.

"Do I exist in your thoughts?" "You're in all of them" a quick reply, no hesitation espically when you unironcally showed him a picture of him looking unenthusiastic with a cat filter on in your wallet. "Why am I right next to your id?" "You exist in my thoughts" You got him to crack a smile revealing a small crumpled up photo of you he had kept in his pocket, all cheerful with a different he clearly found stupid. "Where do you keep that-" he scoffs "you might exist in my thoughts"

He's not used to physical affection but one hug left him wanting a few more. So he starts greeting you with them, which shouldn't be as terrifying as it is. "Y/n!" He nearly tackles you a bright smile on his face. "Can you return my aigami please I think someone switched mine out" "?" He giggles at your joke making you a bit nervous. "Are you ok?" "I'm fine" "you sure?" "." You bring him back in no time

If you'd organize a date, Sera would try to hype him up while he'd just be internally panicking. Fiddling with an outfit he found while Sera smiles and details random ideas she had, about hand holding, winning prizes at fairs, sacrificing all of your known possessions. He'd have to tell her to stop a few times just so he could focus on what to do without images of you saying or doing exactly what she said

You two could go on dates only for Joey and Tristan to sneak around and watch. "Don't look but" you try to hold in your giggle and mumble your words, leaning in for him to hear you "Joey's wearing a wig and he thinks he we don't know it's him" you cover your mouth with a napkin trying to mutter the laughter, it was such a cheap wig and he didn't even put it on correctly it has just sitting on his head, Tristan didn't even bother he just wore heart shades he probably stole from Tea. They got the bill for your food

With you around, he let's his guard down by nearly every bit of it, leading to unfiltered Aigami momments. For example you allowing him to be a passenger on your bike. "Are you sure this is safe?" "Yea Joey does it all the time with Tristan." He carefully steps on gripping your shoulders for dear life. "You're gonna suck the life from me" "should have equipped seat belts" he enjoys the fresh air of a bike ride to school, the soft wind while observing his surroundings...before being blasted to next year by a down hill ride. He's not doing that again.

[coffee-at-annies]

fic prompt: jars/ned 24 :)

24. really needed a hug sort of hug

Hi thank you for the prompt. Happy pens game day. Did you want sadness with dash of self loathing with your soft hug? No? Well too bad. Jars is having a bad time in this one. Ned is probably not much better but we're not in his POV. Set pretty immediately after the game on Saturday, though very heavily fictionalized.

~~_X_~~

Tristan and Ned haven’t talked to each other since the game ended. Tristan knows himself. Knows he can be mean after games like this. He’s not mad at anyone specifically. (Well maybe he’s a little mad at the skaters. He’s not mad at Ned at least). Mostly, he's mad at himself. He should have played better. What was the point of all this rest and practice if he couldn’t go in and save the game? What was the point of pulling Ned if he couldn’t fix it for him? For the team? What good is he if he can’t make the saves when they need him to? Every point counts in the standings and they didn’t get any tonight.

Everyone is frustrated and stewing in their own ways. The guys doing media are doing their best to hide it, to focus on the next game, but the atmosphere in the locker room is not good. Tristan knows he’s not helping. There’s a reason Ned is taking media and not him.

The minute the coaches let them go, he is gone. He should maybe see a trainer about his aching hip or start his post-game cooldown but he knows if he talks to another teammate right now he’s going to regret it so he does what he always does after bad games and goes to drown himself in the shower. At least nobody will try to talk to him there. Nobody will ask him about giving up yet another short handed goal, one that basically cost them the game. He’s so furious that he could scream but he’s bottling that up for when he’s home and won’t worry anyone but his dogs by doing it.

He spends a long time in the showers and finishes on autopilot, scream still bubbling in the back of his throat and rattling the hollow of his chest. Out of the corners of his eyes he can see the team tiptoeing around him just as much as they are each other. Tanger has that look in his eye like he wants to say something to him but knows better. They’ve got a good working relationship but if they talk now, it doesn't matter what they say, their words will eventually draw blood and they can’t afford to tear into each other like that with the promise of playoffs so close. Tanger always wants to be helpful but Tristan can’t stand the thought of being helped. Not tonight. Geno is thankfully keeping Sid distracted. As bad as Tanger can get, Sid is always, always worse. Plus snapping at his captain feels like kicking a puppy, and Tristan likes dogs too much.

Tristan should apologize to Karl. It was his night and Tristan couldn’t win it for him. Tomorrow. He’ll apologize tomorrow. He can’t. He can’t push the words out now. The scream is still there, blocking out everything he could say and filling his ears with ringing. He’s been answering people with grunts and nods in an effort to keep it contained. Andy isn’t happy about it - he’s got that look on his face like he wants to ask him to talk to the sports psychologist they keep on staff again - but he’s not said anything yet. Tristan just has to get home and then he can deal with all of that tomorrow. New day. New practice. New game.

He keeps his head down and gets himself through his post-game routine as quickly as he can. Its not actually quick, routines and meals and everything else slows things down to a crawl when he just wants to run - wants to flee until he can’t feel the weight on his shoulders and the echoing failure that’s been playing on repeat in his head. He's thought about the treadmills in the gym but he knows it won’t make him feel better even if it will tire him out. There's nothing in the gym that will fix the itching under his skin. He's tried before to no avail.

Nobody has talked to him since the game ended. He hasn’t seen Ned since he left the locker room while the other goalie was still doing media. He wishes he had the words to make it better but if he couldn’t apologize to Karl how can he say the right things to Ned? All his words feel caustic and bitter, tinged with the scream still trapped in his throat. He doesn’t. He doesn’t want to hurt anyone. He feels like he’s swallowing razors keeping everything contained but at least he’s the only one getting hurt.

Player parking is silent when he finally makes it out of the arena. The walk to his car isn’t long but it is empty. It’s the quietest place he’s been since he heard the final buzzer and the disappointed roar of the crowd echoing to him from his place on the bench watching the empty net. He’s still alone when he makes it to his truck. Maybe that’s why he notices that the two trucks parked next to each other aren’t as empty as they should be. There’s no light on in the cabin but Tristan can make out Ned’s silhouette leaning against the driver’s side door of his truck.

For a moment Tristan considers it. He considers just climbing into his truck and heading home. The scream, the ringing, the razor blades are all still there. He really doesn’t want to be around his teammates right now. There’s nothing nice left under the self loathing he’s been choking on for what feels like hours now. It’s Ned though. He’s been playing out of his mind for them and Tristan let him down tonight. Whatever he wants - whatever harm he inflicts - Tristan can take. It’s what he deserves.

Tristan heads to the passenger side of his truck and the space between the two vehicles. His footsteps aren’t particularly quiet in the garage but Ned doesn’t move. As he gets closer Tristan can see Ned has his face pressed against the driver’s door. The car doesn’t look locked so that's not why he's still here. He probably just doesn't want to go home. Tristan can understand the urge to just want to breathe for a minute in the silence before facing the rest of the world.

He walks up slowly, trying his best not to startle the other goalie. Ned still doesn’t move as he gets closer. When he gets within a couple feet, Tristan reaches out to tap Ned’s arm. There’s no way he doesn’t know he’s there, but it’s up to Ned to continue ignoring him or tell him to fuck off.

Ned doesn’t do either. Instead he takes a big shuddering breath and turns towards Tristan. Ned hasn’t been crying, Tristan knows what that looks like on Ned now, but his face isn’t that far off. The line of his mouth is twisted and upset, and his eyes don’t want to look any higher than their shoes. Tristan doesn’t know how to make it better. The thing in his chest feels like he’s been swallowing blood or bile or some other poisonous substance. Tristan works his jaw like he’s trying to figure out what to say but nothing comes out. The best he can do is step closer to Ned, as if his very presence isn’t something toxic that would best be avoided.

Ned takes another audible breath and bridges the gap between them until they’re pressed up against each other. His face finds its way into Tristan’s shoulder and he just continues to breathe heavily into Tristan’s suit. Tristan feels his arms instinctively come up around Ned to hold him close. He doesn’t know what his hands are doing but they’re somewhere around Ned’s back, hovering. At the motion, Ned pushes deeper into Tristan’s arms, his own arms coming up to complete the hug, his hands grabbing ahold of the back of Tristan’s suit jacket and fisting into the material there.

Tristan feels awkward and wrong just standing there before the moment catches up with him and he lets out his own deep breath. His hands land more firmly on Ned’s back, rubbing slightly up and down and he lets his head tip forward until his forehead is pressed against Ned’s hat, not dissimilar from how Ned was resting against his car when Tristan walked up.

They stay like that, wrapped up in each other, for a while; Ned’s fists an anchor in Tristan’s suit, and Tristan’s hands a soothing motion on Ned’s back. A lifetime of breathing exercises has their breaths syncing up almost immediately. Slowly, oh so slowly, Tristan can feel his spine soften. He can feel the ringing in his ears get replaced by the sound of Ned breathing into his shoulder and the footsteps of other players heading to their cars. The scream rattling around in his ribcage gets quieter, enough that he feels like he can breathe around it for the first time tonight. Tristan doesn’t know what Ned is getting out of this. He hopes it’s something he needed. Tristan did. Need it. The hug. He can admit it to himself even if the thought of words still tastes like ashes on his tongue.

Tristan has no idea how long they’ve stood there in the protective cradle of their trucks but eventually Ned lets his suit go and starts to pull away. Tristan has half an impulse to pull him back into the hug but he smothers it. They really can’t stay here even if it feels nice. Ned’s eyes are shiny, but not wet when he finally meets Tristan’s eyes.

“Sorry,” Ned says, an edge to his voice that sounds like self deprecation. “I just. Really needed a hug.”

Tristan should say something to reassure him. ‘It was no problem.’ Tell him enjoyed it. Say ‘thank you,’ but all he can get out is a smile that feels a little like a grimace. This isn’t the first time Ned’s seen him nonverbal but Tristan still hates being seen like this. The only person who gets it is Rusty and neither of them have the words to talk about it.

Ned looks like he’s going to apologize again so Tristan pulls him into another hug. If he can’t reassure him verbally, well physically seems to work. It’s a quick one, nowhere near as long as the one before it, but the apologetic slant to Ned’s mouth is gone when they break away.

“I. Thanks. It’s a new day tomorrow,” Ned says, turning back to his own car. “See you at practice?” He asks before climbing in.

Tristan nods his head before circling around to get in his own driver’s seat. Ned pulls out of the parking spot before him and Tristan follows behind in his car to the exit, both of them intent on heading home.

[rainwingmarvel7]

for Tristan and the kiss, date or fight ask:

Helaena Targaryen, Elayne Redwyne (🫣) & Rhaena Targaryen

Thanks for the lovely ask! I see you with this one😉

“This is a hard choice you’ve presented me with, but I have my answer for you. I could not possibly court another beside my love Helaena, but I should like to kiss Elayne. She is soft and sweet, and I would rather press my lips to hers than draw arms against her. Of course that leaves Rhaena for me to fight. She is quite resourceful. Although I would win, it would be a valiant fight I’m sure.”

[jackhues]

Hiii and congrats on 1000 followers!! Can I request 🤍 for buttercup/peanut meeting Bedard for the first time? I think it would be funny either way because bee's not super happy with the comparisons with her dad, while peanut probably doesn't even understand who he is

thank youu <33 haha, here's a short blurb on both of the meetings

buttercup:

the stadium groaned in unison as the horn sounded to signal the end of the game. buttercup, along with the other fans, took a moment to clap and cheer on the boys as they left the ice.

plastering a smile on her face, she made her way out of the stands and through the halls reserved for players and family.

"you played a hell of a game out there," she gave tristan jarry, the pend goaltender, a hug.

he nodded half-heartedly, patting the top of bee's head fondly as he moved towards the locker room.

bee smiled sadly after him, always sad to see the goaltenders sad after losing a game.

sid shoved his glove in his daughter's face as he walked by, trying to get her to cheer up a little. bee made a face, swatting his sweaty glove, but giving him a hug.

"i saw your goal," she said. "you're lucky. i just got back from getting some candy. if you were any earlier, i would've been upset that i missed it."

sid laughed, "oh it's my fault you miss seeing the goal?"

"obviously," she answered.

"oh get outta here," he shoved his glove near her face again.

"you can't talk to your child, your own flesh and blood, like that," she called after him, waiting in the hallway as he continued making his way to the locker room.

whenever she watched the game, she had a habit of staying in the hallway until the last penguins player left, and then heading over to wait for her dad finishing up his media.

like always, sid went ahead to get a head start so they could go home and bee would be ready for school the next day, while she congratulated all the pens players on their game.

"your russian's getting weak!" geno called as the two of them finished a half-english-half-russian conversation.

"not my fault!" bee called back.

she craned her head to see if there were any more pens players coming out of the tunnel, freezing as she saw a different jersey.

before she knew what was happening, the blackhawks team made their way past her, too lost in their own huddles and the adrenaline of winning to care about a little girl in a penguins hoodie standing at the sidelines.

bee froze, wide eyed, as players she only knew from watching the game, made their way past her in real life.

they stopped near the hallway before heading to the locker room, huddling up with their teammates and congratulating each other on plays. everywhere bee looked, there was a blackhawks jersey.

"you okay?"

bee looked up at nick foligno, a veteran hockey player now playing with the blackhawks.

"i'm good," she answered, though she wasn't sure how convinced he was.

"are you lost or something? need help?" another person asked.

bee looked at connor bedard, the rookie sensation. she raised a brow.

she expected him to be taller.

"bee?" jon, the equipment manager, called out from the front of the room. "c'mon, your dad's done media for the day. he's waiting in the second hallway."

"i'm coming," bee said, making her way towards him.

behind her, most of the players were now trickling into the locker room, still excited over the win. but she could hear some players whisper "oh, that's sidney crosby's kid!"

she was pretty sure one of those whispers belonged to connor bedard.

-

peanut:

"peanut, where are you even going?" mama sighed, following her kid.

peanut had been adamant on seeing her dad and saying hi to him, and then saying hi to mitchy, and then saying hi to everyone else on the team. now, she was refusing to get back to her seat in the stands.

"you want me to watch her for a while?" jennifer, one of the media coordinators for the leafs, asked. "we're just gonna be here for twenty minutes or so to film chicago's entry."

"fun!" peanut clapped her hands, taking a seat on the floor.

mama made a face, "well, i guess i'll stay here with you guys."

jennifer laughed, setting up the cameras to get some shots ready. soon enough, a trickle of chicago blackhawks players made their way through the hall, some stopped by peanut wanting to claim the hallway to do tricks instead.

"mama, watch me," peanut said suddenly jumping up and blocking connor bedard's path. she looked up at him, "you need to move backwards. i wanna show my mama a trick."

"oh dear god, why is she like this?" mama muttered to herself, embarrassed.

jennifer tried her best to hide her laughter, recording the trick peanut wanted to show mama.

after doing three (partial) cartwheels, peanut threw her hands in the air and grinned. "ta-da!!"

mama, jennifer, and connor clapped dutifully as peanut ran back to sit on the floor.

"that was great," connor grinned, giving the little girl a high five before moving past.

"sorry about her," mama chuckled. "she's at the age where she thinks she's the most important person in the world, and her dad's coddling doesn't help that."

connor shook it off, "no worries. i'd actually have been disappointed if i missed that. she's a cute kid."

"thanks, i made her."

[sama-not-sam]

SAMA ALI ( AIYSHA HART ) is a THIRTY-TWO year-old UN POLITICAL AFFAIRS OFFICER in GENEVA, SWITZERLAND. They were brought under Richard’s care when they were only THIRTEEN years old. They are known as THE AMBITIOUS because they are STRATEGIC but also COMPETITIVE. Let’s see what choice they make regarding the fate of Woodrow House.

BASIC INFORMATION

Full Name: Sama Ali Nickname(s): n/a, call her Sam at your own risk Date of Birth: born 1972, exact date of birth unknown; birthday celebrated October 30 Age: 32 Occupation: Political Affairs Officer for the United Nations Current Residence: Sama has a small apartment in Geneva. She’s traded space for convenience, opting for a 290 square foot flat within easy walking distance of work. Her job does require her to travel frequently and occasionally for extended periods of time, but Geneva is her home base.

PHYSICAL APPEARANCE

Hair: black; worn straight and more or less shoulder length, depending on how long it’s been since she got it cut Eyes: dark brown Height: 5’9” Notable Features: high cheekbones, arched eyebrows, sharp jaw

PERSONALITY & BEHAVIOR:

Strengths: strategic, assertive, determined, pragmatic, resilient Weaknesses: competitive, single-minded, reticent, show-off, insensitive (especially when it comes to other people’s feelings) Quirks: ⬧ Sama has a bad habit of checking her watch when she’s bored or frustrated, and she’s never without it, or her Blackberry. ⬧ She walks very quickly, for no reason other than to get to where she’s going that much faster. ⬧ She will also speak for others, especially people she knows well, if she feels like they’re not answering quickly enough, or if they pause and seem to be searching for words. ⬧ Her default stance when standing is her feet in third position and her hands resting on one hip, muscle memory left over from her years of ballet. ⬧ Sama hates going barefoot, and usually will wear a pair of ballet slippers instead of shoes when indoors. Vices: ⬧ Card games; not for gambling, she generally dislikes games of chance, but more for the thrill of winning. ⬧ Dance movies; they take her back, whether they feature ballet or not, and Dirty Dancing is actually the romantic ideal. ⬧ Suppressing emotions; Sama would probably cease to function if she was ever forced to actually look at all the feelings she ignores. ⬧ Whipped cream; not necessarily a vice, but it is Sama’s favorite treat.

INTEREST & HOBBIES:

Interests: Poetry, feminism, global politics, ballet, the wives of famous/powerful men(think Eleanor Roosevelt, Vera Nabokov, Catherine of Aragon), The West Wing (an American political drama that she still keeps up with). Hobbies: Sama doesn’t have much time for hobbies these days, she prefers to keep herself busy with work. One hobby, which is almost a habit, that she keeps up is journaling. As a child, she journaled religiously, making sure to keep a detailed account of her life so she could update her parents when they came back for her. While she’s long since let go of that childish dream, she still journals frequently. As a result, Sama is a pen snob. Special Skills/Talents: ⬧ Sama is a polyglot; fluent in English, Arabic, French, Persian, and (Swiss) German, as well as having some conversational Italian; she is also currently learning Mandarin. ⬧ She taught herself calligraphy in high school, one of many attempts to connect with her heritage, and still practices enough to keep her skills sharp. ⬧ She has an admirable talent for landing on her feet, for making the best of a bad situation or snatching victory from the jaws of defeat. Some may call Sama lucky, but to do so would discount all the work she puts into getting what she wants.

BECOMING A WARD

Sama is one of Richard’s most famous ward, not that anyone outside of herself, Richard, and Mrs. Tristan ever knew that. In October of 1973, there was quite a stir over a baby found in Grand Central Station, initially assumed to be lost until it became clear she’d been abandoned on purpose. With no identifying information other than a name pinned to the back of her jacket, the authorities were unable to find her parents and Sama was ultimately shuffled into foster care. Think pieces and op eds will still occasionally surface about the Grand Central Girl, which Sama has a morbid fascination with.  What is common knowledge in Woodrow House is this; in 1986, an essay about the foster system was submitted to Kingsbury College’s annual writing contest, and it caught Richard’s attention to the extent that he just had to meet its author. He loved telling the story of his shock and delight on discovering that the essay had been written by a 13 year old girl, despite the fact that Sama insisted she never forgave him for the discovery that disqualified her from the contest. Over the course of a summer the two kept in touch, and letters turned into phone calls and eventually became face to face meetings. It didn’t take long for Richard to decide to take Sama on as his ward, but convincing Sama to accept his offer was another matter.   By the time she met Richard Woodrow, Sama had long since learned that things that seem too good to be true usually are. Like the foster mother who told Sama she was never going to adopt but that she’d keep her until she graduated from high school, only to adopt a different child 14 months later, dumping Sama in the process. The temptations of Woodrow House were almost too much for a girl to resist, Sama had never had her own room nor access to private tutors in whatever subject her heart desired, but this was exactly what made her skeptical. Ultimately she decided it was too great an opportunity to pass by and, with the condition of continued access to her social worker, Sama agreed.

LIFE AS A WARD

To say that Sama was prickly when she first arrived at Woodrow House would be an understatement. From the first day she was all sharp edges. She cursed too much, a habit that she eventually eliminated under Mrs. Tristan’s example, and she seemed to have a perpetual glare, an expression that only softened some rather than completely. It was her seventh foster home, so by the time she got there, she knew how to carve out a space for herself, and how to defend it. She decided at an early age that she was never going to be anyone’s whipping girl, and she came on a little strong initially. Even when she realized that Woodrow House was not a typical foster home, she was still assertive, and sometimes too assertive, about her right to be there and her authority over her own space. While she mellowed with time, she was never a warm and fuzzy person, and she never wanted to be a sister-figure. By the time Sama arrived at Woodrow House, she was already the ambitious one, already driven, already striving, already putting herself out there in order to prove… something. Even at thirteen she was the one with big, big plans to become a household name, although she never told anyone why. She was always busy, always doing something, never making time to really build meaningful relationships. Which is not to say she was anti-social, but she was selective. She would crash someone’s private tutoring, or try out another ward’s latest extra-curricular. She learned who had similar goals or preferences to her and who didn’t. She loved learning new things and honing her skills, and she appreciated people who could help her to those ends.  The roles Sama played in Woodrow House were simple. She firmly established herself as one of the older wards, usually holding herself above the younger ones. She was a favorite, of both  Richard and Mrs. Tristan. She wasn’t afraid to use that to get what she wanted when the occasion called for it, but she also maintained that the reason she was a favorite was because she never asked for too much. She remained generally a loner, seeming to occasionally grace certain wards with her presence more than seek out anyone’s company.

AESTHETIC

Sama’s style icon is CJ Cregg, from the American political drama The West Wing. She’s a big fan of power suits and loose blouses, and prioritizes high quality, classic styles over seasonal trends. She eschews many of the moment Y2K styles in favor of the designs from her twenties, maintaining a sleek and minimalist wardrobe. A businesswoman to her core, her version of dressing down is a sweater set and slacks. She favors neutrals and darker colors, and generally avoids prints. She likes headbands and still wears scrunchies when she’s having a rare casual moment. She has a modest collection of subtle stud earrings that she rotates in her single lobe piercings, and are the only jewelry she regularly wears.

EDUCATION

As soon as it was permitted, Sama chose to attend a prestigious, and private, all girls’ school that she knew about from having a former foster home nearby. It appealed to her because it was prestigious, because it was an all girls’ school—the pre-teen misandry stayed strong in her—and because none of the other wards already at Woodrow House attended it. Once there she made rather more enemies than friends, but at least she made them on her own and as herself, not part of a set. She was quickly identified as a teacher’s pet and know-it-all, because the purpose of school for Sama was to learn and climb to the top of her class. However, any classmates who tried to bully her quickly learned that she was more than capable of standing up for herself. When she graduated, her valedictorian speech brought many of the parents in the crowd to tears, but most of their daughters rolled their eyes.  For college, Sama set her sights on Columbia University from a young age, and not even Richard’s fondness for his own alma mater could dissuade her. Just like high school, she wanted to attend college on her own terms, and not as one of Richard Woodrow’s charity cases. At Columbia, she double majored in Human Rights and Women’s Studies, ultimately graduating Summa Cum Laude and at the top of her class. More importantly, she learned how to network with her peers instead of alienating them, and still has connections, some might even say friends, from undergrad to this day.  Sama welcomed Richard’s offer to pay for her undergraduate work, but when she was ready for grad school, she insisted on taking care of it herself, even though she didn’t have to. She covered her law school with a combination of grants, scholarships, some student loans, and the savings she built up with her allowance from Richard as a ward. Her last step in formal education was a degree in International and Comparative Law from Georgetown. She was accepted to other schools that were arguably more prestigious, like NYU and Yale, but decided that a school in the nation’s capital would align best with her long term goals.

EXTRACURRICULARS

Ballet, tennis, debate, school newspaper, volunteering. Sama dabbled in all sorts of extra-curriculars during her years at Woodrow House, but only a few were truly hers. Ballet was an interest that started before Richard came into Sama’s life, but her multiplicity of foster homes before Woodrow House made it difficult for her to truly commit to it, so Richard arranged for her to take private lessons in order to catch up with other dancers her age. The precision and structure of ballet appealed to Sama, as well as the fact that it was a challenge. Tennis was something she did because Alison did it, which is to say that she liked having an opponent who was as competitive as she was, and that she liked being around Alison. Debate and school newspaper were both things that looked good on her college resume, but she enjoyed them, as well, especially when she was made editor of the newspaper her senior year. Volunteering was something that Sama did ostensibly for the same reason she did debate and school newspaper, but the truth was she wanted to give back. She felt like she needed to use her privilege as a Woodrow ward not just to better herself, but others as well. 

THEIR LIFE NOW

After graduating from Georgetown, Sama didn’t pursue a legal career; that had never been the goal. Instead, she got a job at the United Nations headquarters in New York City, where she began steadily working her way up through the ranks of the political affairs department. She quickly established a name for herself as a driven employee and a creative problem solver, but also someone who cared deeply about the work the organization was doing. She jumped at any chance to travel for work that was presented to her and never balked at the long hours her job required.  Through it all, she never went back to Woodrow House, despite it being relatively close. There was always some sort of excuse, and it always boiled down to she was just too busy. She refused to admit that there could be anything else keeping her away. She didn’t go out of her way to keep in touch with her fellow wards, but if any of them were willing to put in most of the work, she wouldn’t ice them out, with one obvious exception. It was always uncomfortable for Sama to know that Alison was out there, in the same city as her, knowing that they might just run into each other one day, but she didn’t want to be run out of town, not again.  Following 9/11, it became clear that her skin color would be a detriment to Sama’s plans, and in 2002, she transferred to Geneva, wanting some distance from the rising Islamophobia in the US. She likes to think she’s settled into Geneva admirably, even though it was a rough transition initially, and she prefers it to New York in some ways. She remains married to her work, pursuing her goals with the same single-minded fervor that prevented her from getting more attached to her fellow wards as a teenager. Work-life balance is not a concept that Sama has any interest in and, after one situationship with a coworker that ended very messily, the only thing Sama keeps separate from work is her romantic life. Not that there’s much romance in her life, Sama doesn’t really date so much as she has habitual hookups, always strictly feelings-free until someone, usually the other person, drops the ball. Whenever feelings start to get involved, Sama’s mandate is to leave before she gets left. You’d have to have her at gunpoint to get her to admit that she’s lonely, or that all of her achievements are starting to feel empty, but she’s been fighting for the approval of the parents who didn’t want her for so long, she doesn’t know how to do anything else.

TIMELINE

1972: Sama is born, probably sometime in the spring.

1973: Sama is found abandoned in Grand Central Station in New York City on October 30th. She is placed in her first foster home in early November.

1974: Sama is officially made a ward of the state when the case to find her parents is closed.

1986: Sama anonymously submits an essay about the foster system to the Kingsbury College writing contest, of which Richard is a faculty judge, in the spring. Sama and Richard meet and get to know each other over the summer. She moves into Woodrow House as Richard’s ward in late August.

1987: Sama begins her freshman year at a private girls’ school in the fall.

1991: Sama graduates from high school in the spring. She begins her first year at Columbia University in the fall, never returning to Woodrow House.

1995: Sama graduates from Columbia in the spring. She begins her first year at Georgetown Law in the fall.

1998: Sama graduates from Georgetown Law in the spring. She begins working at the UN headquarters in New York City over the summer.

2002: Sama takes a job at the Geneva branch of the UN.

2005: Sama receives the news of Richard’s passing and returns to Woodrow House.

[crimsonlyinglilly]

Day 22 Stoicism Breaks

for day 22 of whumpril

Familiar faces, Set episode 10 of season 3 Originals, before this days 16, 18 and 27 of febuwhump and Day 18 Broken Glass

Elijah miscalculates, Tristan wins and Elias is confused.

----

Elijah felt a wave of unease as he felt a sudden weight of magic fall upon him; he knew he let something show past his mask as he noticed the way Tristan’s eyes lit up before he closed his eyes in an automatic attempt to shake off the sudden weight.

—-

Elijah opened his eyes wondering when he closed it until instead of the cemetery and Tristan’s smug face he found himself staring at a white ceiling.

One he knew.

No! he swallowed, slowly shifting his body, twisting his wrists against the restraints; the padded cuffs, hearing the metal bed frame crack under him, feeling the thin white blanket through the thin equally white scrubs that patients who couldn’t be trusted to follow the rule were left to wear.

EJ hadn’t worn them for years when he made his escape attempt, he had been so careful to follow the rules until he found an opening, he waited for years just too make sure it wouldn’t be caught before it was too late if they realised his plans.

It felt too real but it couldn’t be.

Still he remembered the itchy feeling of the fabric, the panic it used to cause him even in the life that followed and why mum and dad always made sure to get Elijah the softest clothes they could. 

“Oi, Coma boy’s awake!” a loud voice shouted, he turned his head to see another man in similar clothes.

Benny, the one who had told him how to hotwire a car once when Elijah was bored, Elijah had forgotten the greys in his hair and the timber of his voice but now it was so clear.

This wasn’t real, it was a dream, a memory of the past it had to be.

But Elijah had never been admitted to the medical ward for injures to his wrists before until his escape.

“Oh! you're awake,” the nurse smiled at him, one of those that had known EJ before he had chosen that name, “your cousin will be pleased.” 

“Cousin?” the word came from him without his plan, this wasn’t real, he wanted it to stop.

“Mr Salvatore.” she answered with a flicker of concern.

Zee? He thought with a flicker of hope, No! He shook his head, he had died, he escaped, he was Elijah Gilbert, he remembered everything, he was Elijah Mikaelson.

EJ Salvatore died.

He couldn’t do this again, couldn't take being trapped and imprisoned anymore.

Knowing that didn’t make any of this feel any less real, didn’t help the growing panic and desperation.

Not this, please.

“He’s been very consistent, calling every few days.” She continued blind to Elijah’s growing distress.

“Yeah, even visited a few times, thinking he’d get bored after the third month.” Benny added nodding.

“Month? How long have i- what's the date?” he changed his question mid way through, a pit growing in his stomach.

“22nd of June 1992.” she said the date as if it was just another day.

No, that was his and Elena’s birthday, he couldn’t be here, he was meant to be getting his parents.

“Fine, Tristan.” he sighed heavily clawing for his control, ignoring the two people who weren’t real, who couldn’t be.  “you win, release me.” he called towards the white ceiling he hates.

“Tristan? Whose that?” The nurse asked, looking as if she wasn’t trying to remember if there was another patient with that name.

“Ah!” Benny let out a noise of amusement, “I heard about people living their whole lives in their coma, is that what you were doing? Come one EJ share with us-” the rest of his word vanished under the loud beat of Elijah’s heart, it felt like a hole opened up in his chest as the idea settled.

It would make sense a world where he had a loving pair of parents, where his dreams were real and he wasn’t insane, where Zee and him were close, where he was one of the strongest being around, where he was helpless, imprisoned for his own good, relying on medication to keep him from breaking apart.

No that wasn’t true, it was real, this wasn’t, he shook his head, but the hand that touch his skin felt real, warm alive

He died, he escaped, this can’t be real.

No No No, the word repeated around his head as he denials failed to help him calm down not this, not here, not again

His calm and control shattered.

“LET ME OUT!” he screamed.

—

Tristan will treasure the memory of Elijah's face as he notices the spell moments too late, the flicker of annoyance giving way to a second of fear before Elijah closed his eyes and Elias opened his eyes to stare back at Tristan.

“Sir?” his pet asked.

“Elias.” he smiled “How are you feeling?” he questioned as he reached out for the boy.

“Confused” the boy admitted, leaning into the touch while looking around them, “where are we?”

Tristan kept his smiled up as he started to lead him away, he had some time before he would visit the wolves and collect his message for Klaus, time to enjoy reconnecting with his pet, to watch as his Elias stripped out of the suit Elijah Mikaelson dressed in that morning.

—-

Elias kept his questions to himself after Mr Martel didn’t explain where they were, instead he lean into him and looked around at the new place, new city, as he ignored the screaming pleas echoing around his head.