#also my first time doing a depth of field thing. don’t like that!!! never again

[stark-lord]

My frame (that I clean forgot to post) for the @gomensframes project. Sometimes group projects have 500 people, entertain you, and offer a low pressure avenue to kick your ass out of a multiple year art rut. [commentator voice] join one Today!

close ups under the cut

My first time drawing msheen and my god his face is so incredibly satisfying. This baby’s got some solid planes

[blueflamebimbo]

DEW KISSED

TIGHNARI X READER

Tighnari likes knowing things. Tighnari likes mushrooms. Above all, Tighnari likes you. The feeling, thankfully, is absolutely mutual.

A/N: I saw a lot of Genshin smut on here, so I wrote something wholesome out of spite. I also said I wasn't going to put a lot of effort into it and ended up researching rain forest preservation systems. My bad.

Dedicated to: @husbandograveyard Warnings: Brush your teeth. This shit sweet. Word count: 1,070

A small smile pulled at the sides of your mouth as you watched the breeze flow through the grass, making it lean into the most serene sea of greens and flowery whites. The wind wasn’t as strong as it had been the past few days, and though clouds still brought a chill to the spring afternoon in the fields of East Sumeru, the sun was finally out again, making the fields glisten.

Your walk from home had taken only a short while as you made your way to the edge of Avidya Forest. The bark felt rough against your skin as you sat down on a fallen tree trunk, a favourite spot of yours that looked out into the depths of the forest. It was the perfect spot to watch forest critters scurry about while enjoying both the warmth of the air and the shade of the trees that towered above you, casting shadows at your feet as the sun travelled from East to West.

There was a familiar tingling sensation in your gut as you eyed the rustling leaves ahead of you. Tomorrow, you would embark on quite the adventure. After spending years with your nose hidden in pages upon pages of information that were carefully tucked away at the Akademiya, your first research project away from home was finally about to start. The thought brought tension to your neck, and you reached up to soothe the sore muscle.

From between the leaves, your favourite project partner emerged. Tighnari set down his satchel in front of you, his gaze never leaving you, but his initial grin faltering slightly at your visible discomfort.

“Are you okay? Did you hurt yourself?” he murmured, getting down and sitting back on his haunches. One of his big ears twitched in concern and a dew drop flicked off, hitting the tree trunk.

You nodded sheepishly and let go of your neck, settling both your hands behind you on the bark, letting you lean back slightly. “I’m fine, don’t worry.” You smiled at him reassuringly and let out a soft sigh. “Is it foolish of me to be nervous about tomorrow, though?"

He laughed. Not the gentle, friendly laugh most people knew and appreciated, but a full, cheeky laugh; one that pushed at his cheeks and made his eyes disappear into green crescents. “Don’t be silly – it’s your first research project, honey, of course you’re allowed to be nervous,” he shrugged. “I won’t have you be worried about any of it, though. You’re so well-prepared. I was there every step of the way, watching you learn, watching you grow into the scholar I know you are.” He paused, “And, even if you do doubt – that’s okay, too. I’ll be right there to help. You’re not in this alone, but I have faith in that big brain of yours.”

You could feel your cheeks heating up, the compliment nestling deep inside of your chest and blooming as you watched his eyes peer up at you with both wonder and adoration. It was almost too much to be the subject of the forest watcher’s affection, but it also never got old, not even after this much time had passed.

Looking out into the depths of the forest, you let the soft breeze hit your flushed cheeks and pondered the many truths you would uncover with Tighnari, starting tomorrow.

“It’s strange, isn’t it,” you wondered, “How something so vast and mysterious can be so perfectly balanced.”

Tighnari knew where this was going and sat back into the grass, mindlessly pulling forest specimens out of his satchel before handing you an almost perfect looking common mushroom – his favourite.

“Forests barely have any nutrients in the ground,” you continued, choosing to momentarily ignore the way Tighnari was beaming at the way he had handed you the perfect prop for the speech he knew so very well by now.

“It’s only really the top part of the soil that’s filled with helpful sources: fallen leaves, dead animals, decomposed plant matter…” you trailed off, grinning. “That’s where the good stuff comes from, huh? All for these fun guys to enjoy.” You held up the mushroom and showed off its simple shape. “Mushrooms use the tree roots to absorb all of the delicious nutrients and enter mycorrhiza, the coolest symbiosis of all, which then makes it easier for the tree roots to actually absorb the nutrients and, in turn, the mushrooms get carbohydrates from the tree. How amazing is that?!”

By now, Tighnari looked so proud, it wouldn’t have surprised you if he teared up. But no – surprise was always an option when accompanied by the botanical scholar, and it was evident in the way he got to his feet, cupped your cheeks and planted a gentle kiss to your lips. You could taste the dew drops in his kiss, and it tasted like spring, and adventure, and trust.

When he pulled away, he looked almost smug. It was the look he would give anyone when they contested anything he said, and he would tell them to look it up. Tighnari was rarely wrong.

“You’re so ready that I doubt you’ll need me at all, honey,” he sighed, his eyes bright and excited.

“Does that mean you’ve changed your mind, and you won’t be joining me after all?” you teased. You got up from the tree trunk and stepped closer, gently reaching up and letting your fingertips caress the tip of his ear. A ladybug that had been hiding in the fluff of his fur made its way down your hand and then flew off.

At the intimately tender touch, he closed his eyes for a moment. A soft blush coloured his cheeks. He took a moment to bask in the proximity and then slowly shook his head, curling his arms around your waist. “Absolutely not,” he responded as he opened his eyes once more and resumed his proud gaze. “I’ll go wherever you go, my botanical little genius. I’ll follow you to the corners of the world and discover all of its secrets with you, if you’ll let me.”

And that’s where the doubts about the wild unknown melted away. Even though there was a lot to learn about the world, there were a lot of certainties for you as well. One of those certainties took you by the hand and led you home, ready to embark on your greatest adventure yet. 

[tinfoil-jones]

Gravity Falls: For Your Own Good, Ch. 3

Summary: A few years after moving to Gravity Falls and having his lab built, Stanford Pines happens upon his estranged twin brother, Stanley. He mentally prepared himself to be suffocated by his brothers neediness all over again - what he wasn't prepared for was Stanley walking right past him like he didn't even notice him.

Rating: M for language, violence, and adult implications

Preface: Dialogue only, but some actions will be annotated for clarity. Cross-Posted on AO3 Here

First - Prev - Next

CH.3

RING 

RING

CLICK

“Hello, Fiddleford Hadron McGucket speaking-”

“Fiddleford you did your minor in Neuropsychology, didn't you? As in, the psychology branch that specializes in memory?”

"....Why hello to you too, Stanford Pines. How are you? Fine? I’m also doing fine. I’m pleased as punch that you finally learned some social etiquette in the two years since we've spoken to each other.”

“My apologies, Fiddleford. There’s an urgent matter at hand, and it’s out of my depth.”

“Well butter me up and call me a biscuit; you, admitting something is out of your depth? You’ve got my attention. Yes, I minor’d in Neuropsych, whatever would you need that for?”

“I need your help with a memory crisis in Gravity Falls... I can't explain it over the phone, I need to show this to you.”

“You're killing me Stanford... But I'll be down in a day or two.”

“I’m going to warn you in advance; this is going to be an... odd case I'm going to show you.”

“I may not be in the field of cryptozoology, but I’ve seen some things, Stanford. Whatever it is I'm sure I'll understand.

---

"There's nothing about this that I understand nor condone."

"Hey PhD, who's the white coat? Didn't think you could be friends with such a babe."

*Ford presses the mute button on the cell*

“Mighty forward, that one. Is this another shifter?”

"He isn't a shapeshifter or a clone; this is my twin brother, Stanley."

“You never mentioned-.”

“We had a falling out, but that's not important right now. What is important is that he doesn't remember his past- he doesn't remember me, our family, none of it. It's like his slate has been wiped clean, and all he knows is how to be a grifting malefactor.”

"So you... convinced him to go into a containment cell in your lab?"

“Convince is… certainly a word.”

“What did you do?”

"He needed treatment and evaluation, but he was being difficult; I did what I had to do."

"Stanford, brother or not you are holding this man here against his will. This is illegal and unethical. What if he reports you to the authorities for kidnapping?"

"My brother would sooner chew up and swallow a gold chain before he went to the authorities for anything. Once I find a way to jog his memory, he won't have a reason to report me."

“And you want me to be an accessory to your crimes?”

“Think of it as a project. You can study the psyche of someone with amnesia in real time.”

“Stanford. I majored in engineering.”

“Don’t you want your Neuropsychology minor to become another major? It’s about time you got your double-doctorate.”

“...I will help you.”

“Than-.”

“On the condition that you treat your… brother, as humanely as possible given the circumstances” 

“Fiddleford, what do you take me for? Some kind of monster?”

“You are holding someone captive in your basement.”

To be continued...

[twstbookclub]

Sharp Teeth, Tough Love

Summary: You caught Floyd's interest the moment fire and chaos erupted in the Mirror Chamber. One chance meeting gave you the nickname Shrimpy, and another left Floyd sinking deeper into the depths. POV: 2nd Person Pronouns: Gender-neutral Admin/Writer: Cressa🦋 Tags: Romance, Angst, No happy ending, sorry folks, Floyd Being Floyd, Slow Burn, Minor ADeuce and Grim Shenanigans again, Unrequited Feelings, Floyd's POV (I hope yall remember whose nickname belongs to who) Word Count: 3, 044 If yall needed to know, I wrote this on the same day I wrote the Riddle fic. My brain is spent on these two, and I couldn't be any happier. I wish I could end this another way, though. Poor terrifying and violent Floyd. One thing to note, it's really fascinating how he only calls someone by name if he really respected them. Also, if yall catch that reference to one of Floyd's lesson chats, I will love you forever. Anyway, I hope you all enjoy again 💕

Floyd could never forget the first time he saw you.

Your face was twisted into a flabbergasted frown, mingled with distress, confusion, and exasperation. The cat monster—he’ll call it Baby Seal since its tiny height and gray fur reminded him of one—ran amok and spewed fire everywhere. Kalim’s screams rang in the air, followed by Crowley’s indignant shouts. He watched the chaos unfold with intrigued eyes and a widening grin, revealing sharp teeth and a thirst for more wreckage.

Amidst the smoke that billowed and swirled in the Mirror Chamber, you stood in the middle of it. The harsh glow of the fire pierced Floyd’s eyes, but all he saw was your silhouette surrounded by dying embers and crackling flames. Just as his gaze landed on you, your head swiveled around to look back at him. As if some invisible force compelled you to find the eyes that burned into your figure.

He wanted to see you again.

The next time he saw you, you were with Baby Seal and those two freshmen in Heartslabyul: Crabby and Little Mackerel. Even Goldfish and Sea Bream were with you. The six of you lurked in the courtyard, as if trying to spy on something. Whatever you were doing, it caught his attention.

“Careful, Floyd,” Jade simpered after he followed his brother’s line of sight, “don’t scare the fish away.”

Of course, Jade already knew what Floyd was thinking with one look. There was a reason why they chose each other and survived the coldest, harshest waters.

“Yeah, yeah.” Floyd flippantly waved away Jade’s words with a languid grin, before he snuck on the group. It was laughable, how they didn’t notice his tall and gangly figure slink in front of them. The six students spoke in hushed whispers, too engrossed in their conversation to see the shadow that loomed over them. His eyes roamed each freshman, checking the fresh meat, but they lingered on you.

You looked so small, and he had to tilt his head down to see your eyes. Back then, during the entrance ceremony, you hunched over as if to curl into yourself. Small and weak and afraid.

Floyd’s lips stretched from one ear to the other. He’ll call you Shrimpy.

“Oh ho ho! What is up, Lil’ Goldfish?”

Goldfish jumped, sputtering and floundering like a fish caught by its prey. The rest showed varying degrees of surprise. Sea Bream’s smile became strained, and Floyd could see the junior sweat a little. Crabby flinched, while Little Mackerel took a step back with wide eyes. His fists were raised to his chest, and Floyd’s eyes narrowed at that.

Huh, one of them was ready for a fight. Interesting.

His attention shifted to you, wide eyes fluttering in disbelief. You craned your neck to look up at him with parted lips. As Floyd engaged Goldfish in a conversation more like interrogation, he felt like he was floating. It’s as if he could run around the track field without breaking a sweat from the look you gave him.

He wanted to see more of that. He wanted to see you more.

Your gaze drifted to Jade, and you froze. Floyd brushed it off as fear. That was how people usually reacted to them, anyway. It was nothing new. He focused on the conversation with Goldfish without sparing your reaction another thought.

One sunny day, a few days after that chance meeting, Floyd saw you in the courtyard again. You were with Baby Seal—he always was—along with Crabby and Little Mackerel. The latter two stood in front of you, who sat on the edge of the fountain. Baby Seal was standing next to you with this annoyed look. Meanwhile, the Leech brother was lounging on the grass. Alchemy class bored him, so he decided to skip and bathe in the sunlight on the courtyard.

None of them seemed to notice him. Floyd watched, still bored out of his mind. He was debating on whether to spook the group or otherwise, when he heard you laugh.

You tilted your head back, letting the sun illuminate the smile on your face. It was a toothy grin, one that crinkled your eyes and emphasized the chub of your cheeks. He barely saw the color of your irises, and your unrestrained laugh echoed in the desolate courtyard. You even snorted.

You tilted your head back so much that you tipped over and fell into the fountain with a loud splash. Floyd snickered, ignoring the warmth in his chest and the flutter of his heart. Howling laughter followed your fall. Crabby clutched his stomach and doubled over. Little Mackerel held back a smile as he flailed, unsure of how to help you, in front of the fountain. Baby Seal was laughing his ass off, belly flopping on the edge of the fountain.

He decided to stand from his spot and help you, since the entire thing entertained him. Although, when he stood tall and took a step towards the fountain, he paused. You were drenched in water, from the top of your head to the tip of your leather shoes. Locks of hair stuck to your forehead and cheeks. Your uniform clung to your skin, and it looked uncomfortable. Despite all that, your smile remained.

“You assholes!” You laughed with a loud wheeze, happy and carefree with that toothy and blinding grin. He could clearly hear you laugh and sputter, even with Crabby’s and Baby Seal’s loud snickers and laughter. As he watched Little Mackerel help you—and fail, because you slipped back into the fountain—a thought nagged at his mind. 

What should I do to make Shrimpy laugh like that again?

“Hey, Shrimpy!” Floyd chirped, grin too wide and sharp to be considered friendly. Little Mackerel and Crabby stepped back, as the sophomore grabbed your arm and tugged you out of the fountain. Your hand shot out to grip the edge, while you stood from the water.

“Need a lil’ help?”

“Oh merciful Seven—” Floyd pretended not to notice how your vocabulary changed in just a few months— “thanks, but how much did you see?”

The fact that you nonchalantly accepted his help, that you didn’t flinch from him, made Floyd’s heart do somersaults and cartwheels. The corners of his lips stretched towards his ears. He squeezed your arm and watched you step out of the fountain.

Water dripped from your uniform, and Floyd observed the droplets fall from your hair and fingertips. He briefly wondered what you’d look like if he dragged you into the sea. Would you be surprised? Would you scream?

Would you laugh and call him an asshole, like what you did earlier?

“What answer do you wanna hear, Shrimpy?” He teased, still grinning and holding your arm. For some reason, Floyd didn’t want to let go.

“The one that doesn’t embarrass me, thanks.” You chuckled, despite the other three freshmen being silent spectators of this interaction. As you thanked him again and flicked the water off your hands, Floyd couldn’t help but grin wider.

Another month passed. After that admittedly hilarious outburst from Azul, you became a regular at Mostro Lounge. You visited during the weekends, even if you were wary at first. You fell into a routine, just as fast as how you picked up on the lingo in Twisted Wonderland.

You walked in during the weekends and stayed for as long as an hour and thirty minutes. (Yes, Floyd kept count.) You’d talk to either Jade or himself, depending on whoever was waiting tables at the time. Azul passed by at times to make sure you were having a good time, obviously to maintain Mostro Lounge’s good reputation. After a few visits, Floyd began to monopolize your attention by literally taking over server duty during the days you visited.

Even if he had to subtly threaten Azul with profit loss via property destruction and sabotage.

“Hey Shrimpy,” Floyd drawled, sitting across from you in one of the booths. It was a slow day today, and all you ordered was a fruit shake. A history book was opened to some page Floyd didn’t care to know. Notes littered your table, and your penmanship occupied his attention a little.

That was, until he grew bored of the sounds of pen scratching paper and the clinking dishes in Mostro Lounge.

“Hm? Yeah, Floyd?” You asked, flipping a page and jotting down something on your notebook. The tall merman pouted, before he reached over and snapped your book shut. Before you could even react, he snatched it away and lifted it far from you.

“I’m boooored. C’mon, play with me!”

Floyd grinned when you stuttered and glared at him. Your reactions always amused him, moreso whenever you were irritated or angry. Something about the way your brows furrowed and your nose scrunched made him want to tease you more. When you began to flail your arms and make animated gestures, that was when he knew you were really fed up.

“You—” You sighed and stood up, trying to reach for the book. Floyd only lifted it higher, and he didn’t even need to stand up. The corner of his lips twitched, while he watched you struggle and stretch to snatch the book back.

“Floyd, give it back! Please? I promise I’ll—”

There was a reason why he always tried to annoy you. You’d always promise him something in the end: treat him to lunch, hang out with him in the Lounge, watch his basketball matches (even if you were there for Crabby, too). It was the only way he could spend time with you without outright asking for it.

Floyd wasn’t an idiot. He knew he liked you, and it all began with that incident involving the fountain. Even Jade pointed out the many times Floyd’s face lit up every time you were around. He couldn’t ignore how much his heart pitter-pattered every time he saw you. He couldn’t pretend that he wasn’t grinning every time he caught sight of you. The way his name rolled off your tongue made him giddy enough to want to throw you over his shoulder and skip class with you.

If he had a choice, he’d drag you to the deepest parts of the sea and keep you to himself.

The book was plucked out of his hand, but your own hands were empty. You owlishly blinked, and so did Floyd. Both of you stilled, until another voice broke through the quiet hustle and bustle of the Lounge.

“It’s not nice to play with the food in front of you, Floyd.” Jade smiled, the kind he usually wore that fooled anyone into thinking he was the safer option between the two brothers. It was still funny to Floyd how everyone gravitated towards Jade, only to realize the jagged teeth behind that fake smile of his.

You took your book from Jade with an awkward smile. “Ah, thanks, even if you said something subtly backhanded…”

“It’s my pleasure, Prefect,” Jade answered, his smile never wavering in that moment. Careful hands gripped the book and slipped it off his gloved one.

Without missing a beat, you set the book aside and asked, “How are you then, Jade? You and Floyd are usually together, but I haven’t seen you in a while.”

The book remained shut, as if you weren’t trying to get it back from Floyd to study earlier. The lazy smile he had dropped into a thin line. His eyes drooped as he watched the conversation between you and his brother. On the other hand, Jade still wore that perfected smile of his with a hand over his heart.

“I’ve been doing fine. Thank you for asking.” Jade hummed before adding, “I found this lovely new specimen—another species of fungi—while on a hike recently. You were interested in mountain hiking and foraging, am I correct?”

“Oh, yeah.” You laughed, light like tinkling bells. It was a stark contrast to the boisterous laugh you usually had. Floyd’s chest tightened, and his hands clenched into fists under the table.

Letting your laughter die down, you continued with a smile, “Can I join you next time? If not that, you have terrariums, right? Can I see them some time?”

Your smile was small and practiced. Whenever you smiled, it was always toothy and the corners pushed your cheeks up. Now, it reminded Floyd of a prissy princess who had been sheltered all her life. You smiled like a noble that faced the aristocrats in hopes of a good impression. You smiled like the guests his parents had, trying to curry their favor, while he and Jade grew up.

You solely focused on his brother, as if Floyd wasn’t sitting right in front of you for the last hour. Your book and notes laid forgotten on the table. Condensed droplets began to drip from the glass, and the fruit shake was forgotten as well. Even when the edge of one of your transcripts became wet, you didn’t bother moving it away from the glass.

Floyd wasn’t an idiot. Of course, he wasn’t.

His eyes flitted towards the smile you had, softened with an emotion he didn’t want to see. Your own eyes appeared brighter, livelier than whenever you were with him. Even when you sat down, your body was angled towards Jade as you leaned on the table with crossed arms.

His mood soured in that instant, and the pitter-patter of his heart dulled into silence.

Floyd scowled, standing from the booth and shoving his hands in his pockets. You jumped a little, while Jade watched him with that carefully crafted smile. He didn’t bother explaining himself. Jade knew already, and he didn’t owe you anything. You’d only take this as Floyd sulking because his brother ruined his fun.

“Whatever,” he mumbled and trudged out of the restaurant with an air of annoyance. Everyone who happened to be in his way immediately skirted around the Leech brother. One wasn’t fast enough, and Floyd’s arm knocked the tray out of the poor student’s hands.

His scowl deepened. He loomed over the terrified boy with his jaw clenched and eyes glinting ominously. The aggravated tone rang clear in his voice when he threatened, “Watch it, or do you want me to squeeze ya, huh?”

The Heartslabyul student silently despaired about his lunch. He was too intimidated and afraid of Floyd to even squeak. The merman left Mostro Lounge with a scowl and his fists in his pockets, like a child throwing a tantrum. He didn’t bother looking over to see your reaction.

Floyd was growing irritated at the thought that you’d give all your attention to Jade. He’d rather not see you make goo-goo eyes at his own brother. He didn’t want to think too much of it. Maybe he’d find something to do; something to get rid of this itch in his chest and fists.

If he couldn’t, then Azul would just have to deal with Crowley later. He wasn’t going to sit in that cramped office and get lectured by a headmaster that preened over his and the academy’s reputation.

As Floyd stomped through the portal that led back to Night Raven College, his thoughts veered towards you and Jade. His mind conjured every memory he had of you: how you perked up every time you saw Jade; how you always asked about him, even if you thought you were subtle about it; how you subconsciously gravitated towards Jade every time he was there—

A pair of Pomefiore students skittered towards the wall as Floyd passed by. A shadow loomed over his scowling face, which accentuated the dips and curve of his mouth. His blood boiled, and his footfalls grew heavier with each step. If he went on like this, Floyd would dig potholes in the corridors with his feet alone.

He always saw your smile brighten and look dainty around Jade. Your laugh grew softer, restrained and freakishly refined. It was as if you deliberately controlled yourself to look more appealing to his brother. It was annoying Floyd more than it should.

He liked you, even when your body tipped back and doubled over from laughing so much. He liked you, even if your laugh sounded like a dying whale. He liked you, even when you snorted so hard that it hurt your nose. He liked you, even when you smacked him on the shoulder out of exasperation. He liked you so much that he was tempted to tickle you in front of Jade—just so he could hear your loud and carefree laugh again.

He wanted all of you, even if you were weak and frail and helpless. He just wanted you.

He already hated how cheesy he sounded, but his heart called out for you with each waking moment. The image of your smile overlapped with his memory of your laugh. Your name was scrawled in his mind, his heart, his lips, his very soul. Floyd already knew it was bad if he was being poetic, sappy, and romantic like Seagull.

So, why’d you like Jade? His brother could care less about you in that sense. Floyd was already annoyed that Jade moved things behind the scenes: making sure that you were alone with Floyd as much as possible. They were brothers, but none of them would ever admit that they cared for each other out loud. That didn’t stop people from thinking Jade was the more capable and reliable brother than Floyd, cunning and mischief aside.

Floyd was the one who helped you out whenever he could. He was the one who spent the most time with you in Mostro Lounge. He was the one who made a beeline towards you every time he saw even a glimpse of your head. He was the one who made you laugh and smile, especially whenever he noticed that you were down in the dumps.

He found himself in the courtyard, and his mood soured more at the sight of the fountain. The memory of you, laughing and sitting like a drenched duck in the water, overlapped with the image. Grumbling, he kicked a pebble off the path and clenched his jaw.

“Ah…” Floyd sighed and ran a hand through his hair, before ruffling the locks on the back of his head. His feet halted right in front of the fountain, with its clear and burbling water. Looking down at his reflection, he saw your face beside his—all smiles and eyes hiding behind your cheeks. His heart felt weird, as if being strangled by some invisible force that Floyd couldn’t punch nor squeeze.

He clicked his tongue and looked away from his reflection. With a frustrated groan, he mumbled to himself, “Why did it have to be Jade, Shrimpy? I’d fight tooth and nail for ya, but it’s Jade.”

With that, Floyd kicked the base of the fountain like a petulant child. A dull crack echoed in the desolate courtyard, before water gushed out of the broken stone. It spilled through the fissure, and Floyd took a step back to keep his shoes from getting drenched.

He frowned again and stalked off to find something else to occupy his time with. The afternoon sun showered the courtyard with a golden glow, which only reminded him of the time the sunlight illuminated your grinning face as you laughed.

“Why’d it have to be you, Prefect?” Floyd mumbled, shoulders sagging and foot kicking another pebble in the way. Maybe, in the near future, he’d get bored and forget about you. His heart wouldn’t do that weird pitter-patter, and his lips wouldn’t twitch into a grin with one look at you. His chest wouldn’t grow fuzzy and warm. He wouldn’t get the urge to run to where you were whenever he wanted to see you—which was every day, honestly.

Floyd hoped he would forget about you, but you were so difficult to forget. He’d never find someone else who captured his interest this much. He’d never find someone who looked so beautiful, even if the noises that left them were unattractive and childish. Even if their smile was too wide to be natural. Even if they were fascinated by him at first sight, rather than scared and intimidated.

No one else would be like you, but you just had to like his brother instead.

[leveloneandup]

(Photo: Katelyn Mulcahy/Getty Images for Angel City FC)

Christen Press set to return to Angel City training

Christen Press is returning to Angel City FC training this week, the team announced on Monday. Press, who tore her ACL in June 2022, has had a lengthy rehabilitation process that included four surgeries. While she has been training individually for the past few months, her full return to the team’s training environment is set for Tuesday.

“My first day, I’ll do the warm up and the passing pattern with the team, but it will still be the first time I’ve done a legitimate passing pattern with a bunch of bodies on the field and checking angles, because it’s just been one-on-one training for two years,” Press told The Athletic on Monday. “We really are looking at — I got my first ACL surgery June 22 (2022), a week before that I tore my ACL — so really coming up on a two-year mark since the last time I played soccer, the last time I’ve been in team training. When I first told Angel City (about my return), I was thinking, let’s just keep it closed, let me come in on a day when no one’s going to be there and let’s just see how it is. Then I reversed, I changed my mind, because I was like, ‘Shoot, who knows how many milestones I have left to celebrate? Who knows what’s going to happen after this first team training?’ So if this is something we can all celebrate, let’s just go for it, because this journey has been really, really long.”

In January, Press spoke to The Athletic while still officially designated as having a season-ending injury. At that point, she did not have a firm timeline for her return, though she expected it to be at some point during the 2024 season.

“The first thing I need to do is get into training, but then I can get into games, then I can score goals, then I can have an outstanding season, then I can play on the national team again,” Press said. “I don’t have anything ruled out. But the most important thing for me right now is just the first step: getting back into training.”

With that first step now imminent, Angel City has not yet given an estimated return for Press in a NWSL match. The team is currently in 12th place in the standings through 11 matches played.

The timing also should prove a tough turn for Press to get herself into Olympics contention with the USWNT. New USWNT head coach Emma Hayes is expected to name the 18-player roster by the end of the month ahead of the final two send-off matches in July, but considering the depth of the forward pool and Press’ absence for two years, a return to the USWNT is far more likely to be a long-term goal.

“If you’re looking from a nine month perspective, I’m already past that right,” Press added on Monday. “A 9-12 month ACL perspective is not too far off, if we just look at my last surgery. But for whatever reason, I never really looked at the Olympics. With all the trauma of missing the World Cup, then watching the World Cup, then doing the show for the World Cup, I was like, I can’t do this again with the Olympics, because no matter how chill or zen I seem when I talk about it, there’s no way your mind can’t start doing the math, right? There’s no way. I’m like, ‘Oh, I’m not like every other athlete, I can handle this.’ Then I’ll catch myself in the middle of the night counting how many weeks I have left. You can’t stop that. You can’t stop the dreaming, and you want that. That’s part of it, but it’s also the torturous part of it, and the balance of trying to believe you can do something incredible hard and the balance of not getting too excited.”

[scripts4dreamers]

Letters from the sky pt. 2

AN: Okay this truly was not meant to have a part two, but I just finished Veilguard and so the brain rot continues.

Part One

It took the better part of a month for Solas to receive a response. By the time that swooping, flowing little piece of paper caught Solas’ eye, he had moved from the half crumbling tower in the memory of an abandoned fort to a small cabin on the edge of a sea of starlike wildflowers. His cabin was pressed against an ancient forest where trees grew so tall and thick that it made his Dread Wolf form seem small and insignificant. He loved it there. The flowers were sweet and fragrant, the days were warm and the nights were bracingly cold. The forest was so old that it made Solas feel young and fresh, the way he had at the start of the world. So, as the letter made its way towards where he sat, Solas let it come. He was comfortable there, seated on the patio whittling away at a piece of wood he had found on his journey.

“Welcome, friend,” He said as the letter unfolded itself in his hand, “I was beginning to think that I had seen the last of you.”

The letter, again, said nothing and Solas couldn’t help but chuckle. There was something about this place that calmed him and made him feel lighter, like the spirit he had once been rather than the man he now was. The lighthouse was his home. Nowhere in the fade could truly compare, but this field was a close second.

He took a moment to prepare himself as best he could before, once more, gingerly opening the envelope, keeping the seal intact. The moment he saw the familiar looping handwriting, his heart jumped into his throat and, despite having sworn that he would take things slowly, he immediately dove into the letter.

Solas,

I am terribly embarrassed. It truly never occurred to me that I would actually send that letter, or honestly that I possessed the skill to do so while so fabulously drunk. I cannot remember everything I said to you, but I’m sure I made a fool of myself. Again. I can only hope you can forgive me.

I have left Skyhold to travel with Blackwall for a time. It is night now, and I am alone. Thom collapsed a few hours ago. He still can’t hold his liquor. He thinks I need to remember the goodness in the world, that it will help me find the hope I had when we first met. I don’t know if that is possible and I doubt, even if it is, that I will find it on this trip, but I do appreciate his company. It is also comforting to be on the move again. The constant politicking, the infighting and intimidation tactics that come with running the Inquisition makes my skin itch and sometimes I feel ten years older than I ought to. The wilds are different. Things are simple out here. I feel like I could be simple out here.

So let me say this simply; you have lost any and all right to call me cruel. I poured my words into a hundred letters only because I could not say them to your face. Because you left.

You left me.

Twice.

You ask what my letters contained? They contained my heart, my pain, my confusion at being discarded like a broken doll after everything we shared with one another. They contained each and every question you never gave me the chance to ask you and, yes, many contained my love. It is only because of the depths of my love that your absence hurt so deeply - continues to hurt so deeply. I hope that this satisfies your curiosity.

However, if we must talk about cruelty, let’s talk about the wolf in the room. Why, in all these years, have you never spoken to me in my dreams, as we both know you can? Do you think I do not see the wolf, the glowing eyes in the darkness? Do you think I am so naive as to not wonder what force hunts the demons that haunt my sleep? I would know you in any form, Solas. I would know you in pitch blackness. For years I have waited for you to speak, to attack me, to lay your head on my lap, to do something. But to no avail.

So we sit in silence. Except that I broke the silence. There is a crack in the dam and all the carefully cultivated parts of us that I have stored away are pouring out.

I do not truly expect you to answer my questions. I know that this is my fault. I opened the wound again and rubbed salt in it myself. I hope that, despite my enraged ramblings, you believe me when I say that I didn’t want to hurt you. Honestly, I did not believe myself to be capable of hurting you anymore.

How did it come to this, Vhenan? How did we become people that hurt one another so intimately?

You do not have to respond. I cannot decide if I hope you do or not.

Yours, Amala Lavellan

Again, Solas began his ritual of pacing, reading, drinking and remembering. He committed each character to memory. His whittling lay forgotten on the patio as he poured himself into you again and he was so engrossed in his task that he didn’t even notice the second letter until it fell against his shoulder.

Dear Solas,

I lied. Of course I hope you respond.

The very next day, Solas sent his intricately folded paper bird through the fade, whispering words of power into its wings as his hands quivered. He watched it vanish, breathing in the sweetness of the flowers and wishing, not for the first time, that he could be someone else. Just for a moment.

Vhenan,

I do not know what to say. There are no answers I can give that will soothe the pain I have caused you, and the answers I do have are likely to be unsatisfactory, but they are yours. I owe you at least that much.

The short answer is, at the start I did not intend to visit your dreams. It was an accident. After our meeting in the Crossroads, when I stripped the anchor from you and you learned of my true nature I was…drained. Magically, physically and emotionally I had very little left in reserve and I simply had to stop and rest. Even in the fade my body is still subject to the whims of any ordinary man, though I often neglect it, and so I eventually needed to sleep. I cannot say for certain why I drifted. I am generally more on guard against such things but, regardless, that night I drifted and I found myself somewhere unfamiliar. I am almost always a wolf in my dreams and so, finding myself in new and uncertain territory, I did what any wolf would do; I followed a familiar scent. By the time I realised what had happened, it was too late.

No, I suppose that is not entirely true. I could have left, but I wanted to see you. I figured that my longing, my desperation for knowledge of you may have caused the drifting and thus, if I could confirm for myself that you were safe and happy, it might stop. I had assumed that, if I was careful, I might be able to pass unnoticed. I just wanted to know that you were well.

It was a beautiful dream, Vhenan. I have always wanted to ask, where were we? The woods were unfamiliar, but you seemed so…at peace there. I watched for longer than I ought to have. When you saw me…ah, but it was too late by that stage. Rather than slaking my desire to be near you, seeing you so free, so relaxed and happy, it only made things worse. I could not hold myself back from drifting, and I did not try particularly hard.

I have never spoken to you because, despite all evidence to the contrary, I do have a very well developed sense of self preservation. My selfish actions have done enough damage to us both as it is.

I hope that you find whatever it is that you are looking for on your travels with Thom Rainier. Perhaps now my reluctance to accept him back into the fold after his lies came to light makes some sense to you. Regardless, he is a good man. I am alone as well, though I imagine that that is less unusual for me than it is for you, Inquisitor. I will not bore you with specifics, but I am somewhere beautiful and I am safe. Please, be on your guard on your travels, my heart. It is a dangerous world out there.

Like I said, I will always respond when you call. I will always answer when you write. It is beyond my power to do anything else.

Yours, Solas

Ps. You are the only living soul that still has the power to hurt me, Amala. That will never change.

As he wandered through the fade, leaving the comfort of the clearing behind and beginning the long journey back to his lighthouse, Solas turned one specific part of Amala’s letter over in his head.

How did it come to this, Vhenan? How did we become people that hurt one another so intimately?

What a poignant, piercing question. Had he not asked himself the very same thing countless times? Had he not laid awake at night, wrestling with what to do, how to feel, how to move forward? Of course, they were aligned in this. Of course, she felt it too. To hear his own helplessness reflected back at him in her words and know that she was struggling alongside him was…it was a bitter, bitter comfort.

He longed for Felassan, for Mythal, for the counsel of those who knew every part of him. They would be able to put words to the tangle of emotions swirling in his chest. They would be able to see through the fog and guide him towards the proper path. They would know if what he was doing was right.

But Mythal was dead. Felassan was dead. He had killed them both and now he must walk alone.

[hardyshoe]

Sonnenblumen - Chapter three: Arnica, Let me heal thy grief.

Also posted on AO3 - Here!

⚘⚘⚘

 The first days of November bring with them a wicked chill, leaving the field covered in white frost. Crystalline suspensions of dew that give the faux effect of a thin blanket of snow. On your morning walks, the blades of grass crunch against one another under your shoe and your breath gasps against the cold air in a fading apparition. By lunchtime, the watery sun has taken most of it back to green but you can still feel the frost in your bones. 

 Winters have been the hardest, the sense of being stuck grows more persistent with the death of the leaves and the disappearance of the wildlife. Your solitude feels more sharp. In the summer, the warmth and the balm of collective joy soothes you somewhat. Tricks you temporarily into thinking that, maybe, it isn’t quite as bad as you thought. 

 But then comes November, and the dreams of Vienna and Paris and Antwerp rise back from the sun-warmed parts of your mind, like the long lying corpses of things dead thousands of years uncovered from the borders of the permafrost as it melts away their impermanent graves. 

 It is all tarnished though, for you cannot leave when the most exciting thing you have known would be left frozen in the fields. All alone. As close to an excuse as it may feel, you know you cannot go without unravelling all there is to Aegon, if he will let you. 

 His pain is as bright as his happiness, the full bounds of the human capacity for emotion lining the very fibre of him. You feel beyond mad in your feelings for him so shortly after meeting him but you yearn to ask him everything. If he never came back and you never saw him again, you know, in the depths of yourself, that you would think about him every day.

 When he comes again, it is a bitingly harsh Wednesday night, the first of the month. He is jolly again, a reeling difference to how you last saw him, morose as he hunched out of the door. He gambolls across the floor to where you stand behind the bar and grins widely, you look to his hands, thankfully only pinkish from healing, before returning it. 

 He catches the gesture. 

 “All clear this time, Sunflower,” he plants his palms on the bar and shimmies his shoulders. “Been on my very best behaviour, you see.”

 “Oh?” 

 He drops himself heavily onto a stool, when he sits he is at your eye line and you roundly abuse this by staring into the lilac of his irises. He catches you but doesn’t call you out on it, staring back just as hard. 

 “Had to be, didn't I? I can’t very well come and see you if I have detention.”

 That makes you blush, embarrassingly caught up in what he said. You try to respond but he beats you to it. 

“Of course, I could sneak out of detention too. I don’t want you doubting my skills. It just makes it much more of a faff” He wiggles his brows and you huff a laugh, turning to the glasses behind you. 

 “And what else would you be sneaking out for that you have all of this experience? Do you have another barmaid somewhere else waiting on your charms?” you’re teasing him, voice coy and scandalised.

 He takes the bait, leaning over to halt your hand on the pump before you can pour him a pint of what he had been drinking the last two times. The one with the nice label. “None as beautiful as you.”

 You feel the flush creeping back across your cheeks, you can hear it in your tone when you speak, “I bet you say that to all of them.”

 “Only if I think they will give me a free drink,” 

 “Chancer,” you laugh, hands on your hips. He just smiles at you, charm melting away, leaving just his face in its boyish beauty. 

 “Always.”

 You're about to turn to someone else, fix their drink to help your father on the other end, when he speaks again. “Can I buy you one instead then?”

 You should say no, tell him you're working and that he is being a rotten distraction, but your father nods at you, having heard what Aegon said. “Take a break, my girl. You’ve earned one.”

 Aegon is grinning like that cat who got the cream when you turn back to him. He tips a handful of coins, far too many of them, onto the bar. “Have whatever you want.”

 You fix yourself a sloe gin fizz, enjoying the chance to play around with the rarely used cocktail equipment. You make him one too when you catch him eyeing your work curiously in the mirror in front of you, leaning forward on his stool, pulling himself half across the top with his hands on the far side of the bar. 

 You latch your way out of the back and walk towards one of the corner booths, away from the prying eyes of a few of the regulars. “Come on then.”

 He scrambles down and bounces behind you, sitting across from you and taking the drink when you hand it to him. He takes a sip, his eyes blowing wide when the carbonation and the tartness of the drink hit his tongue. 

 “That is much nicer than beer! Why on earth did you let me drink that other stuff?”

 He is such a curious thing, your mind leaps about with questions. This time, you ask exactly what you want to know. “How is it that you can drink like a sailor, but know nothing about what you like?”

 He goes a bit pink in the ears at that, it’s more endearing that it has the right to be. “I only really drink what I can get my hands on, straight stuff normally.” He plays with the straw, poking ice cubes down into the reddish bubbles. “There is an international boy in my house, he is very generous with the vodka his mum sends him.”

 “This is really doing a number for the reputation of your school in my mind,” you joke.

 “Not much good to say really,” he shrugs, that distance drawing back behind his eyes. 

 A moment of silent elapses before you poke his hand and pull him back into the present moment. He shakes himself visibly, a smile lifting the corners of his mouth. “Besides, I’m not all clueless. We always used to sneak a bottle or two of champagne away from my parents' parties.”

That sounds more like him and you puzzle together a vague image of a younger Aegon, shorter hair and rounder cheeks, darting into an opulent ballroom full of people in fine fabric and plastic smiles. You frown at your inability, even in the boundless scope of imagination, to make him fit there either. “We?” 

 He nods, an incomprehensible look passing over his features. “My brother Aemond and I.”

 It is the first allusion to his family since he mentioned his mother and her Picasso’s that first time. You burn with intrigue, in the privacy of the booth you decide to ask. “Would you tell me about your family?”

 His eyebrows pinch and he takes a moment to respond, “Which version do you want?”

 What a funny question that is, it draws to mind great scandals and lurid affairs. Somehow though, looking at Aegon and all he keeps in, you think it might be something else. 

 “Yours.”

 He gives you that look, the curious bewilderment. As though no one has ever asked what he thought before. He takes a long sip of his drink, throat contracting from the over-large mouthful. It takes him a moment to order his thoughts before he begins, you give him all the time he needs. 

 He clears his throat and begins, not looking at you, eyes fixed determinedly on the knots in the wood that he is tracing with the edge of his nail. “I have three siblings, or four if you look at it another way. I am the oldest, sort of, Helaena is a year younger than me, Aemond a year younger than her. Helaena is…” he pauses, brows pinching again as if trying to find the right words, “different, she spends most of her time by herself, collecting butterflies and insects and shiny rocks.”

 Fondness veils his features when he speaks of her, voice gentler even, “she used to go to a convent school in France, where mother went as a child, but they recommended that she be withdrawn when she was about thirteen. She is the best of us, too good to be a Targaryen, too much of us in her that she is still a little bit ruined.”

 When he speaks his last name it has a horrible weight to it, lingering heavy in the air. It speaks of a collective suffering, of a home of darkness not of light and love. 

 You can see him receding again so you take his hand without hesitation. You prompt him, the name feeling just as foreign as his used to when you say it. “And Aemond?’

 His face clouds again with that look you cannot understand, you want to reach out and smooth the gap between his brows with your thumb but you hold yourself back. “We used to be closer, but it was hard for me to go back there after I was sent away. Things were better for a while, we got on. He was…good to me and I really did try but it felt all wrong..”

 If possible, he darkens more. You loop your pinky around his and squeeze his hand gently. “Sent away?”

 He looks at you then, smiling so sadly it hurts to look at. “We live in London. When the blitz started and they began sending off the evacuees, my mother felt we ought to be seen to approve of the operation.” He scoffs, shoulders shaking slightly, “Helaena couldn’t be taken away from home, she was only four and with how she is… it just wouldn't have been fair. Aemond was too young, so I was the only option really. She still maintains that it was because I’m the heir, that I couldn't be risked, but it's bullshit. It was only ever done to look good for the papers and the society columns.”

 “That's foul,” you say, unable to stop the vitriol from burning out of you. You cannot even fathom it, a tiny little boy being sent away from home just to keep up appearances. The horror of it makes your skin crawl, the weight of your war mantle hanging heavy on your shoulders. The cold idea you have built of Aegon’s mother twists as thorns grow around her.

  He just shrugs, finishing his drink. “I was sent somewhere near here actually, that fucked me up for a while, at the start of school. I thought they were sending me back the first time, tried to run away with Aemond but we never made it out of Manchester station.”

 You just cannot understand it. There must be something cruel and innate bred into the people of Aegon’s life, something incomprehensible to those born without it. Without a shred of doubt, you know in your heart that nothing could ever make you that way. You fear nothing could make them any better.  

 “There was this big down hall full of the evacuees and families would just come and pick us based on who looked the nicest or the cleanest. So many of them were crying. It was horrible.”

The pictures in your mind are heinous, warped visions of masses of children with tiny suitcases and numbers around their necks. There had been a few in the village when you were a child, some even attending your primary school, but there had always been a divide between them and the local kids. You can remember distinctly how hard Marlene had tried to befriend a few of them only to be told, in sharp tones by a little girl crowding her two even littler sisters behind her that she ‘shouldn’t bother, they would not be staying long’.

 “Me and this other boy, Davey, got picked by the same couple. We met on the train and he was funny and poorly behaved as I was, said wherever we ended up might beat the bed he top and tailed in with his five siblings. I thought if I had him it might just be bearable but…they were mean old bastards.”

 How it can get worse, you do not know and yet everything more he reveals drops the pit lower in your stomach. His pinky is so tight on yours that his knuckles are going white and you can feel your cuticle throbbing but you wouldn’t take it away even if your finger went blue. 

 Despite how much he is giving, you don’t speak in return. He does not pause to wait for such a response and he is hardly even looking at you. There is a very real feeling that he just needs to get it out, you think the weight might crush him if he doesn’t.

 “They would make us do so much, all the farm work and cleaning and they would lock us in the coal shed if they didn’t think it was enough. We spent a lot of nights in there.” He is shivering as he talks, memories of the sooty darkness still clawing at him now. “We tried to run away a few times, always failed. All through it though, those two miserable years, Davey was chipper. It was like you couldn’t scrape it off of him, the Thompsons hated him. They loathed me because of my parents and their position but Mr Thomson used to wallop him just for smiling and it was like Davey thought it was funny.”

 So much of what he is saying reminds you of how Aegon had laughed at the whip cracks on his broken hands. You run your fingers over the veins on the back of his hand, just to remind him you are there.

 “At night, he used to sit with me at the window and tell me about his home. His mum’s aprons, all the funny twangs his dad spoke with and every little story he had about his siblings. In the end, he made me feel like I was one of them. He would call me his brother when he talked of taking me home with him. ‘What's another one really? Mum would hardly notice, she’d probably hope your manners would rub off on the others.” he said.”

 It is in his eyes and his lips and the ends of his hair, the way you can still see him yearning for a home filled with love and kindness and for a family who loved him like that. There is nothing you can say, nothing to take away the stolen hope of a desperate child that has grown gnarled and miserable with years of longing. 

 “He is the only friend I ever had, and when the school started accepting boys from five they took me back to London to prepare Aemond and I to go, and Davey stayed there. I left him and I never saw him again and every fucking day I miss him, I miss my brother. He did everything to make it better for me and I have to live with leaving him behind.” 

 “Aegon,” your voice comes in a heartbroken breath and he looks up at you finalls, heavy tears dropping down onto the table. He wipes his eyes quickly with the balled up end of his too-long sleeves and you wish you could tell him he doesn’t need to but you are fighting to say anything at all. “You didn’t have any choice in it, you couldn’t have done anything.”

 “I should have found a way, leaving him there is the worst thing I have ever done and I cannot change that.”  His jaw is ticking with masked up strain and you feel on the verge of combustion with an amalgam of hurt and fury. 

 “It was not your fault.” You are firm, truth and belief knocking together to meld your tone into something definitive. “Christ, Aegon, you were so little you cannot blame yourself for what happened.”

 His cheeks are spotted with blotches of red and pink. The way his lower lip trembles make you feel shaky and sore and you want to hug him until he understands that you would never let go unless he wanted you to. 

 “I don’t know how not to.” It is an admission that rocks through him and you breathe out sharply. You can feel tears welling under your cheeks in a deep pressure that is beginning to ache. “They hated me at school from the first day because I tried to run away with Aemond and I was taken to the headmaster for punishment when we got there.”

 Not even a day. To have his first introduction to a place be that, after everything he had endured already. It is a cruelty you can hardly imagine.

 “And I tried to be like Davey, put on this face so Aemond wouldn’t be scared. I learned how to laugh about it and pretend it didn’t hurt like hell every time I bent my fingers, and it didn’t even fucking matter because Aemond was perfect and he did everything right and they never even touched him. He just thought I was showing off.”

 He is cracking into pieces in front of you, you want to give him bits of yourself to glue him back together again. Give him anything just to keep him afloat. The absent jolliness when he had shown you his hands takes on something new, a deep bitterness of failed protection. Of a boy trying his best to make sure his little brother would be okay just for it to make him think of Aegon as something that he wasn’t. 

 Losing a brother just to lose another one. 

 You don’t know what to say. You want to burn the school down. Aegon keeps speaking, he is spiralling but there is a desperation in how he talks. You get the feeling that he hasn't spoken much about any of this, if ever.

 “Since then, it has been hard going back home. I don’t really feel like there is room for me,” his voice is terribly small, like he is scared of someone hearing what he has to say. “Aemond does okay, he is good at adjusting and making do wherever he is. I have never been much good at fitting in, being what I ought to be.” He swipes the side of his jaw against his collar to wipe away the tears that are catching on his skin. “ I used to think, when I was small enough not to know how foolish it was, that I might just fit in with Davey’s family but I never got to find out. Really, I would have just been another mouth to feed no matter what he said or how badly I hoped for it. In the end, I think I am just destined to cause problems for people.”

 You begin to protest, start to tell him a hundred things about fairness and how he should have been loved his whole life, but he squeezes your hand before you can get much out. “It's okay, Sunflower, I’ve gotten used to it by now.”

 You feel so angry on his behalf, angry that he can’t seem to feel it for himself. Most of all, you are furious that he truly thinks he deserves all of it, that he cannot see that he was just a little boy cursed by his position in a cold family. You may not know much, but you know enough. 

 “Destiny isn’t real. You cannot surrender yourself to that just because you think it has been made for you. From where I’m sitting, Aegon, you only ever tried to fix things.” You can tell the words aren’t quite making it in, bouncing off that fortified wall of lies that has been built around him at the hands of others. Instead of trying again you get up, carefully disentangling your hand from his. “I have something for you, I will be back in a minute I promise. Please don’t leave.”

 You don’t give him time to respond, too focused on being as quick as possible as you dart up the stairs to the flat, answering the magnetic pull of the handkerchief in your top drawer. You are scared he is going to run, get up and go before you can give him your piece of mind. You cannot have that, you know if he goes now, you will not see him again. You cannot be another figure in his life who turns him away for feeling things he has every right to feel. 

 You nearly fall straight down the stairs in your haste, the heel of your right foot missing the edge of the step and sending you grasping for the bannister. Your heart is racing as you weave through the crowd back to Aegon. He is staring right at you, hasn’t moved a muscle. 

 A deep sigh escapes you as you drop down again, across from him. He just looks at you, confusion pulling at his face. 

 Without words, you hand it to him unfolding the cotton and splaying it over the wood of the table. It feels like nothing in the face of everything he has just given you but you don’t know what else to do. There are not enough words to make better what has happened, but actions can scream their way out of a void. He stares between you and it, just as he had the other night as he bled into the white with his beautiful red. 

 The stain has browned in the week since you last saw him but it is still recognisable as what it is. He follows the line of your handiwork with the forefingers of his left hand, the same ones that touched your face with all the gentleness in the world. The little yellow flowers that border the blood are linked with green stems, it looks like a loose flower crown. 

 “They’re arnica flowers,” you say. There is a creeping trepidation lapping higher in your mind as the moments of silence on his end stack up. “I just wanted to show you that you didn’t ruin it. That the evidence of you can be a lovely thing.” 

 He looks at you then, eyes searching yours for a trace of deception that does not exist. He is shaky when he speaks, “Let me heal thy grief.”

 You hadn’t counted on him knowing, you want to ask but he seems to know before you can. “Helaena likes flowers. Sometimes, she doesn’t speak for weeks on end, she used to send them to me instead of written letters when the world was too loud for her. I borrowed her dictionary on them when I was back on Christmas hols so I could understand.”

 He says it so flippantly but the care in the gesture nearly bowls you over, adds to the growing pile of evidence that you have against his idea about himself. That he is somehow inherently bad. 

 “You are lovely,” he says. The bell for last drinks rings and he shakes himself again, all shoulders and flying white hair. 

 “So are you,” you know he won’t believe you but you say it anyway. He seems a little shaken as he makes his way to leave. Blinking slowly and looking at you all the while. He recovers from the unburdening like a newborn foal learning to walk, shaky and unsteady and still covered in bits left behind. The scars from what he has lived are visible in places but where they are not, the racket against the underside of his skin like trapped beasts. 

 You won’t trip him up again. Despite the whirling haze of things you want to tell him, reassurances and soft words alike, there will be other times and you want to watch him leave in a state of some normalcy for your own peace of mind. 

 Before he goes, you have to say what has been on your mind since you saw him come in. “Where is your coat, you’ll freeze to death before you make it back in the weather out there.”

 He shrugs, joviality bleeding back into him slowly, perking him up a bit. “The only one I have has the school crest on it, might as well just give up the game at the door.”

 The way he pushes his sleeves up his arms to free his hands before he goes speaks to a little boy tempered by nights shivered away in a coalhouse and a young man who cannot compare anything to that chill. 

 “See you soon.” You say to him, both something to hold him to and a promise, for him, that you want to. 

 “Of course, Sunflower, I have a few more miseries to give you yet.” He leaves you with that, smiling in a far off way as the cold air swallows him. You almost want to follow him out, tell him to come back while you find him something, anything warmer than his jumper, but then you notice that he took the handkerchief. Your thoughts go quiet after that. 

 You turn to meet your parents looking at you, mirrors of each other with their arms crossed. Your mother starts first, “So, he came back. Again.”

 It is not a question yet you know she expects a response all the same. She has that teasing lilt to her voice, like she is excited for you. 

 “He did,” you say carefully, not sure what to say. You feel a little awkward, young and still shellshocked from the life he has let you look into. Still, that is not something you will tell anyone else, not when he has opened himself with such vulnerability. You push the anger down to simmer and soothe the hurt with hope. 

 “He is very handsome,” she says, leadingly.

 You blush at the interrogations, the strange embarrassment of your parents knowing you fancy someone, fancy him, tinging you pink. “He thinks I’m lovely.”

 You're too busy staring at a hole in the toes of your shoes to notice them approaching you, it takes your father’s hands on your shoulders to lift your head back up. “Then he is a wise boy.”

 You smile at him, your mother squeezes your arm.

 “I don’t know how to make sense of anything, of him even.”

 “That sounds about right,” your father says, looking at your mum with nothing but adoration in his eyes. 

 The insinuation in his words has you blushing even deeper, “I don’t even know if he feels that way about me.”

 Their eyebrows raise, comically in-sync as usual. Your parents were a perfect example of being the other half to each other’s whole. It is your dad who deigns to answer you, “My girl, he called you Sunflower.”

 “He did now, did he?” Your mum is almost shrill, eyes wide.

 “That doesn't prove anything!” You protest. You know it's pointless, but giving up is not in your nature. 

 A good natured chuckle is all you get in response to that. Your dad is not stupid, he knows you aren't either. 

 “I don't think he looked at anyone but you the entire time he was here.” You flush again at the assertion that your mum had been watching you and him. 

 They know you enough to anticipate your protests again, holding up placating hands until you shut your mouth again. 

 “We aren’t teasing you really,” she says, “we are just happy you have found someone.”

 You shift from foot to foot, trying and failing to shake the feelings of embarrassment. “You make it sound so real…”

 “Isn’t it?”

 “We are only saying what we see, love.” Your dads voice is deep, holding an air of finality.

⚘⚘⚘

He starts coming in on Wednesdays as a constant, sometimes on Fridays too. You are aware of the approaching Christmas holidays which will take him away, back down to his unfamiliar home in London. You try to ignore the dread at the idea of not seeing him for a few weeks, then feel silly for thinking it in the first place.

 He plays the same game on quiz night, giving you his silly non-answers and damn near leaping out of his seat in excitement when he actually knows one. He gets the same looks from the regulars, confusion with a few glances of annoyance. He ignores all of them, just smiles at you in his glorious way. 

 Bill and Brian seem to have taken to him, clapping him on the back when they come up for refills. It bewilders Aegon but puts a small kick of warmth in your heart, seeing him accepted here even if it is only by two of the normal crowd. 

 The quiz girls come and talk to you in the break between two rounds, lingering after you have fixed their vodka tonics. Barbara looks between you and Aegon, who is talking with Joan and gesticulating to you every so often. 

 “He seems…interesting,” she says to you, nodding her head towards Aegon. It is slightly awkward, a step outside the regular niceties you trade when she and Joan come in. She is poised in a blue jumper and navy slacks, they highlight how tall she is, taller even than Aegon. Always so polished, there is something a bit too perfect about her that always left you feeling a little wary but you brush away that juvenile thought. 

 Your olive branch comes in the form of you leaning closer to her, telling her, “He really is.”

 She smiles at the tone of your voice and you feel a comfort slide around you, she hesitates before speaking again.“I hope you find in him what you have always been searching for.”

Barbara had always been clever, making friends with Mary in the year above, reading books about maths that you couldn't understand heads nor tails of. She was clever with people too, quiet in her assessments of those around her. You remember her weighted gaze now as she looks at you similarly.

 She doesn’t offer anything more, does not need to. She takes Joan by the arm and they head back to their table in the middle of the floor. When she looks at you over her shoulder, black ponytail swishing in an arc back on itself, you smile gratefully at her and she just nods in return.

 You find Aegon watching you when you turn to him, curious and openly questioning. You don’t have a response for him though so you deflect, “How was Joan?” He just gives you a confused look. “The girl you were speaking with.”

 “Oh! Yes she was nice, told me about you.”

 That throws you for a loop and you gape at him like a landed fish. “Me?”

 He hums, seemingly enjoying your surprise. “I don’t know enough about you and I thought your friends would be good people to ask.”

 “Joan isn’t really my friend.”

 “She said the same thing about you but she seems to know you awfully well for just an acquaintance.”

 The heft of the conversation about your distance from the girls you had once been so close with weighs on your shoulders and you try to find something to say. Some way of explaining why you kept yourself away despite their past efforts.

 “She said you want to leave.” There is nothing to his tone but intrigue, and perhaps it is the understanding you feel when you meet his gaze, perhaps it is just the knowledge that he won’t judge you for it, but you feel yourself opening like Pandora's box. All your wistful dreams come spilling out in a wave of relief. 

 You tell him of the art books you have read, all the things you want to see. He listens with rapt attention while you talk without breathing about the pre-war Viennese art movement, about surrealism and expressionism and the lives you would give anything just to have a glimpse of. 

 He doesn't say anything when you finish, the look of his face is so raw it strips back your skin. His lips are slightly parted, one hand twitching on the bar as if reaching for you, his eyes are unblinking. 

 “It feels like someone has their hands in your chest doesn’t it?” His voice is hoarse, he looks like he is seeing you for the first time again. “Like if you dont get away they will take out all the most important parts of you, leave you trapped there because you’ll die if you go without them.”

 You nod at him, he breathes out heavily. “I didn’t think anyone else understood.”

 “Neither did I.”

 It is simple and small and yet the world is falling away around you. 

 Your turn to read your own questions comes up and you go to your father to take over. Aegon follows, sits on the side and listens, you can feel his gaze the entire time but it isn't oppressive, more of a comfort.

 He doesn’t know any of the answers, or, if he does, he stays quiet and contemplative. Though he is more pensive that you have seen him, his leg still bounces on the floor and he toys with one of the buttons on his shirt. An object of perpetual motion. 

 He continues to ask you questions about where you want to go when you leave. When, like he believes you will go, he is the first to do so, other than your parents who want you to stay only because they love you too much to be okay letting you go. You feed him bits of the Paris in your mind, the colourful buildings of Warsaw and the cathedrals of Spain. 

 At the end of the night, he asks you to walk him to his bike, it is such an unnecessary gesture but something in the look in his eyes makes you follow. Out in the cold, you watch the cold slice through him, sweeping his long hair into its clutches and making his shirt billow. He is so beautiful in the moonlight, so beautiful always, but the way that the silver lights him up takes away your restraint to not stare.

 He pulls you along by the hand to the wall where his bike is propped and stops you, hands coming to your shoulders before tensing around the frozen night in front of him. They are as cold as anything when they find your cheeks. 

 You don't care, not when he waits for your nod before leaning down to kiss you. You can feel the warmth radiating off him when you finally meet in the middle, the softness of his skin against yours makes your head spin. The tenderness with which he holds your face in his hands sends something burrowing into your heart, something inexorable. 

 When he pulls back he is giving you a giddy smile, one which you return. “I don’t want to go.”

 “I don’t want you to.”

 “Come back with me,” he challenges and you laugh. The sound pierces the night and he grins at you, that one that pinches the corners of his eyes so wonderfully.

 “You're crazy,” you say, but it lacks efficacy, so tightly wound with affection as it is. 

“Come on! I’ll put you on my handlebars and sneak you in, no one will notice at this time.”

 It is testament to your madness that you almost agree. You swallow down your want to do just as he says and shake your head, still smiling. “I will, not tonight but another. If you want to take me I will follow you.”

 “I will hold you to that, my sunflower.” He calls after him as he weaves into the darkness, leaving behind a staggering rush that plays like a hymn in your bones.

⚘⚘⚘

Happy Friday my dear readers!! I hope you have all had lovely weeks and I hope you enjoyed this chapter. It is the first proper glimpse into Aegon's past and the events in his life which have shaped him into who he is today and I have really been looking forward to sharing this side of him, however heartbreaking it may be. Thank you all once again for stopping by, I appreciate it so much. I would love to hear your thoughts and please let me know if you would like to be added to the taglist! All my love, SlaginSecret xxx

@neithriddle

[amorhedera6]

((this turned out longer and more in depth then i meant for it to go, tw for abusive families, suicidal ideation, mentions of death, grief, and dismembering of a body))

headcannon that steph and max were best friends as kids. his dads an important man, one that solomon wanted on his side. so he pushed steph to spend time with his son. max was a super happy kid, very exciteable, loved musicals. they were on their own a lot, since neither of their parents really gave a shit, so they’d spend a lot of time at starlight theatre, watching all the different shows and things going on. max would tell her about how shitty his dad was and she’d do the same in return.

when they got to the 7th grade, steph got really depressed and pushed max and everyone else away. and max was little, they both didn’t really know what was going on. after that, they weren’t ever really close like that again. she got on the middle school football team and was deemed a prodigy, got popular, started getting all these friends that would do whatever he said. things with his dad got worse, and without steph to help him he started bullying to corral his emotions. steph knew what he was doing, but also knew it wasn’t serious. he pushed a few people around a little, that’s all. she didn’t think she had to be worried about her friend and now that he was super popular, she needed other people to spend her time with.

she also became cool, just because he said hi to her in the hallways, so she found herself in with his group. but she never truly felt she fit in, skirting along the edges. in high school, her friends all joined the cheer squad as she joined the smoke club and stop giving a shit about school. she never made sense in the “popular kid” crowd, but she assumed they kept her around bc she was the mayor’s daughter and pushing her out wouldn’t fly. it was actually max, making sure she got an invite to every party.

steph sort of floats through high school disassociatedly, in the my-home-life-is-terrible-and-isn’t-gonna-get-better-until-college-so-i-don’t-give-a-shit way, so she doesn’t see the escalation of max knowing no one will stop him doing anything, getting a total god complex, and ruling the school with violence, until pete. she’s probably the only person in hatchetfield high that doesn’t know, but it surprised her so much. bc max? the boy who would geek out over tech production of the musicals? the kid who let her be the captain when they were pirates bc he thought it was more fun to be the first mate? who’d stay up late with her when she had a bad day to read the books their moms were had promised to read to them? that boy is this horrible bully, and she didn’t even know it? it just doesn’t make sense.

she says she’ll go to the principal bc that’s the first instinct one has about this shit, but people started doing that in 8th grade, and all that happens is max has to go to an anti bullying thing every few months. she wants to talk him down, figure out what made him go this far, but she already knows it’s his dad. he wants to be the big impressive football star that his dad wants him to be, so maybe he’ll actually give a shit. he wants his dad to notice and tell him to stop, because then it would mean he was paying attention to what he did. daddy issues recognize daddy issues, and steph sees it in max, even if she did have prior knowledge. she goes along with grace’s plan bc she thinks it’ll be a good ego check to bring him down, but then. then.

she goes home and cries herself to sleep, feeling responsible for the death of her first real friend. she gets sick for weeks with flashes of her dismembering his body with the others, and while every one else’s seems to think the school’s getting better, all stephanie can think is “did no one else fucking care about him? even a little?” all his friends, the football guys, even her friends on the cheer squad, seem to not care about max’s disappearance as much as they care about his missing spot on the field. she starts to skip more until she decides to hang out with pete instead. he must be guilty too, be haunted by these images, but then he says “everything is objectively better.”

which she gets. people are free from his torment, they can do what they want, talk to who they want, etc. the hallways are brighter, people are happier, whatever. but max was still a person. steph wonders if the plan had gone right, maybe he would’ve come back down from his god complex and been more like she remembered him. if he would’ve done the spring musical like he’d always wanted to do but never felt like he could. if he would’ve hated her for it forever. she’d rather he hate her forever than her have helped kill him.

when they have to start talking about what happened, she tries to call him jägerman, tries to disconnect her friend from what happened, because he truly was drastically different, but it was hard. after richie and ruth, shut goes crazy and max is back, but he’s not really max. she feels like the worst friend in the world when she think “he looks like his dad”

because mr jägerman has always been a being full of rage and anger, not one to hide in his own home. she’d seen him scream and yell at max for being a regular little kid, not special at all. not the perfect son he wanted. max, this weird spector of max, is all rage, no heart. even when max was at his worst, he had some heart. he kept her in the “cool group” even though she made no sense there, let grace go unbullied bc he had a crush on her. this wasn’t max. this was a personification of his dying moments, the only thing the waylon place did was preserve, and maybe further his anger.

she wants to beg pete to kill her the way he begs her to kill him. she started all this, even if she denied it at beanies, it’s true, and she is probably the only one who could have helped max stay a regular guy instead of the egomaniac ruler of the school he became. but she can’t get the words off her tongue. so long she’s been thinking about how easier everyone’s lives would be if she just killed herself, and now she can’t even do this. he gets on his knees in the football field, she raises the gun from twenty yards away, and thinks about how many people this thing that isn’t really max has killed.

she forces herself to pull the trigger.

max stops the bullet.

grace fucks the ghost, and all is well. except she’s met gods who seem like they want to eat her, and now her father’s dead too. he was an asshole, he never really cared about her, but she sobs for hours n the big empty house on pinebrook, and wishes desperately that she had made pete do it.

she and pete check on each other, because he also lost two people important to him, and they hold each other up. get each other through it. help each other mourn. she meets his older brother, he helps her clean out her father’s office. they go to funerals together and hold hands, and don’t talk about it.

it takes her a little while to realize his homecoming offer is still up, since things are technically different now. she buys a dress and tells him only the color, and he wears a matching bow tie. it’s such a ridiculously peter thing to do, and it makes her laugh for the first time in a while. they laugh together a lot that night, and she helps him breathe through a panic attack in the bathroom when ruth’s favorite song comes on.

she tells him about the images she can’t get out of her head, maxs body in pieces, the blood everywhere, that she burned the clothes she wore that day bc she couldn’t get the smell of blood and bleach out no matter how often she washed it. he tells her that he’s having flashbacks like that too, and that he wishes he could talk to his therapist about it without being sent to jail or a mental hospital.

she talks to detective shapiro and gets her to send a letter to peters therapist that he’s not gonna be arrested so pete can talk his shit out. at least the non-ghost and demon stuff. the dismembering a guy stuff, though, he can talk about.

it gets her thinking about therapy and getting some. she’s 18, she’s got more money than is necessary from her father, and she thinks she’s going crazy. she looks into it and finds one, starts going once a week. he tells steph he things she has adhd, sends her to a psychiatrist who confirms the diagnosis. she gets some drugs to take, and she feels weird about taking them. she’s done drugs, but like the cool ones. she knows not to do drugs you’re unfamiliar with when your alone, and she feels like she’s a lot of that.

homecoming was fun, but she and pete still haven’t out any label in their relationship. they haven’t said i love you, even though everything that went down means the both know it. she wants to be his girlfriend, but she doesn’t want to ask. wants him to ask. she tells her therapist as much, and then complains that she’s paying him bc she’s got daddy issues and trauma, not to hear about her high school drama.

but miraculously, he does ask her to be his gf. and then they’re dating, and it’s great. she spends more time at his apartment with his brother, less time alone in the big empty house just thinking about max and her hand in who he became. he and her therapist together convince her to start taking the meds, and it helps with some of her problems, but not all of them.

she forces herself to keep living, even when she doesn’t want to, because that’s what max (her best friend, the kid who was too scared tontry out for the musical, the asshole, the boy she knew better than herself, the adult she apparently hardly knew, the spector she could only half recognize) would want from her.

[savindeku]

as a long time bnha fan, had to drop some thoughts i’ve been having about the manga ending! i’ve held this series near and dear to my heart, through the moments when i felt it was great story telling and when i felt so much was missing, or didn’t quite hit the mark. so i definitely don’t think bnha (or hori) is above critique, i love to yap about this series ((:

MAJOR SPOILERS AHEAD FOR THE ENTIRE SERIES BUT OF COURSE PARTICULARLY FOR CHAP 430

to me, there’s three main parts to the ending that i felt make sense:

izuku giving up OFA

izuku becoming a teacher

izuku still having the chance to be a true quirkless hero

going into depth on each of these, while i love the inclusion of these three pieces, i can understand why the actual execution didn’t land with folks. even i have my qualms! okay let’s get into it! ps. this is really me just yapping away from the heart so bare with it 🫰🏽

1) izuku giving up OFA:

I think this one should not come as too much of a surprise, given that the reveal of OFA essentially being the cause of the early demises of the previous holders sort of insinuated an uncontrollable aspect to the power. even though izuku has an advantage as someone who was quirkless, it still creates a sense of foreshadowing that this is a gift that might have an expiration date. of course, a part of me would have loved for him not to have given it up but there’s enough build up there that it doesn’t feel out of left field. in addition to the running theme in the series being that anyone can be a hero/a quirk doesn’t make a hero, there’s certainly some symbolism in izuku now affectively being without, making him a quirkless hero - what he had dreamed of since the first chapter.

2) izuku becoming a teacher:

personally, i really love this for him! as a consumer of many a fanfic, i have grown obsessed with this job alternative for him, since it allows him to continue to work in the hero field, he can inspire the next generation to save to win (that as long as you willing to extend that helping hand, that’s what being a real hero is), his analytic mind is doing important work, and can use his own experience to help others learn! “deku sensei” makes my heart so happy and if anything, i would’ve loved an extra chapter just to see him as a teacher. one thing ill add here is, i can understand some disappointment with this or frustration at hori because to some, it may seem izuku ended up becoming complacent and didn’t at least try to continue to pursue his dream of being a hero after the war. not sure where i fall on this, but food for thought.

3) izuku still having the chance to be a true quirkless hero (sorry this is gonna be long lol):

now to really get into the big reveal for this final chapter - a tech suit designed just for izuku (at the main request of a one katsuki bakugou, which yeah i Will Be Totally Normal About) so he can still be on the field as a pro-hero!! okay i also loved this, i won’t deny it as much as im on the deku sensei train! bnha is a series that is never going to please everyone and its ripe with many issues throughout but i do think this was a beautiful way to wrap it up. once again, from chapter 1, we are met with izuku who wants nothing more to be a hero despite being quirkless. i never really liked the argument of “well why didn’t he try harder or train up” when the series explains to us over and over again that this is a society that values quirks above all else. its a literal systemic issue (hitting close to home but i digress), where izuku would NEVER have been accepted as a quirkless hero no matter how hard he worked because it simply isn’t designed to allow that (also where the fuck would he have gotten the resources for that is beyond me lmao).

to me, this part was actually very important for bringing the story to a full circle in which we actually (somewhat, but arguable not completely) address the core issue and theme “people are not born equal”. instead of perpetuating a “pull yourself up by your boot straps” mindset, hori tells a story where we acknowledge the system and how it is working as intended - and that’s the very reason it needed dismantling. of course, i think along the way, we maybe lost the plot at times (thinking about how we didn’t fully address izuku’s martyrdom mindset, children get sent off to war multiple times, most of the villains being k*lled off rather than being saved as izuku wanted) but there’s much evidence of this. knowing that there was still the spirit of a hero in izuku - which is MADE SO CLEAR HAS NOTHING TO DO WITH HAVING A QUIRK - and he now has the chance to continue onward, quirkless. i mean c’mon, it’s really something (to me at least).

bonus note time

here’s a sprinkle of random lingering thoughts. one critique i saw was that it felt strange for izuku to accept he couldn’t be a pro-hero until his friends (ehm mainly Katsuki teehee) gifted him the suit. as if he really just gave up and this sort of hurts any character development for izuku. while i see the thought process here and would’ve also welcomed izuku getting the suit designed himself, it doesn’t upset me quite as much that this is how it actually played out. it’s definitely conflicting feelings for me because ultimately i would’ve loved for izuku to have had an arc where it was more explicitly stated that he overcame his overly sacrificial tendencies - or that the story spent time sitting with the trauma inflicted on the children fighting a war. but here is where bnha slacks off (imo) - we don’t get that breath to explore or analyze or genuinely know izuku’s thoughts or feelings on the matter (beyond that he’s sad that shigaraki died, enjoys being a teacher, and can admit that he misses his quirk). so in this way, it makes sense why hori chose this path. it’s more about his friends extending their hand to him, an offering of never leaving anyone behind who is a hero, quirk or not. i think of it as something more symbolic than it having to say anything about izuku’s character. i think for that to be addressed, there’s so many things further back we would need to unravel too lol

lastly - bnha is also a story about disabilities!! there’s been a decent amount of analysis on this so i won’t say much but i think this is also good to keep in mind. it helps for understanding the metaphor in place - quirks can be disabling and rather than creating a world that is accessible to all, the world requires that you figure it out instead. “people are not born equal” what if we dared to dream of a world that understood “we each take shape differently…” so that we might want to care for one another. so we can build something that makes the space for all of us to be able to live and thrive.

okay so that’s what i’m feeling now! like i said, i really love bnha and i simply can’t bring myself to say i hated the ending or anything. it’s a series that will always have a special place in my heart! there’s are just thoughts rattling in my brain and how ive interpreted things as someone whose read the manga the last 5 years! it’s crazy to look back and remember key moments that shook the fandom to its core. anyway, if you read all of this, thanks!! :D

[youcouldmakealife]

LBTE: Jared (153-154)

The Blanket War.

If you'd like to follow along, the series page is here.

153. Wage(r)s of War

If Jared knew the blanket was going to turn into a whole thing, he probably would not have stolen it.

Scratch probably: Jared definitely wouldn’t have stolen it. Even though it wasn’t really stealing, since it was originally his, and he never told his parents they could give it away to someone else. That’s not theft, that’s like — rightful ownership. Jared is the rightful owner of the blanket.

But still.

Jared’s saying this when it’s just a thing and not even a Thing yet.

Especially since the Canucks put two and two together, and are now giving Jared copious amounts of shit for losing his blanket to an Oiler not once but twice.

“As if you had nothing to do with us losing those games,” Jared says.

In hindsight, he probably should not have said that to his goaltender, but he still thinks volunteering him for the children’s hospital Halloween trip is unfair.

I applauded Jared’s survival instinct last time, but it’s terrible and Jared’s lucky his penance is ‘cheer up children’ and not ‘be murdered by goaltender’, frankly.

“I know,” Jared says, and irritably adjusts his eye patch. He’s supposed to be colouring, but he can’t see properly with it on, and he keeps colouring outside the lines just a bit, which is infuriating. He can’t take it off, though, because the one time he did Gabe said he looked like a hipster French stereotype, and when Gabe insults you it’s hard not to take it to heart.

I wrote this after having personally experienced eye patch-hood post surgery the first. Definitely fucks with your field of vision and your depth perception, among other things. The cool thing is it makes you look like a pirate, though!

Jared knew he shouldn’t have listened to Bryce about the striped shirt being pirate-y.

Striped shirts are very dependent on accessorizing. Eye patch? Pirate. Beret? Old school Parisian stereotype.

Bryce brought out the sling for the hospital, over a lazy cowboy costume made entirely out of shit in Bryce’s closet from his Flames days. He hasn’t strictly needed to wear it for awhile, but the kids all gravitate to Bryce, asking about it. The third time a child under the age of six solemnly told Bryce to get better soon Jared had to excuse himself and find Dmitry until he was comfortably annoyed again.

Jared carefully talking around things so he doesn’t use the word ‘adorable’. And this is a smart AF move by Bryce, who understands that kids will want to talk to someone they perceive as similar to them in that way. He truly does love kids, and he gets them too. (Don’t say it, Jared.)

“Look, J,” Bryce says delightedly. “The kids all signed my sling.”

His sling is an absolute mess of Sharpie. Though frankly the signatures of children aren’t significantly worse than the signatures of hockey players, so it’s no worse than some casts that got signed today.

Jared grunts.

Adorable.

“Are you still mad about the stripes?” Bryce says.

Jared grunts again.

“I like your moustache,” Bryce says.

Two kids, both named Logan, were very insistent that pirates had to have moustaches, and he couldn’t think of a counterpoint, so now he has a moustache.

Jared, you fool, don't listen to the Logans, that's not pirates. A skinny pencil moustache stereotypically belongs to…

Now he looks like a dude who had a kid scribble all over his face instead of a French hipster, at least. He takes the eye patch off.

“Bonjour, Mathématiques,” Gabe says as he comes up behind them. “Très belle moustache.”

THE FRENCH!!!

Also shoutout to Gabe for translating Jared’s nickname for the occasion.

And however much it sucks for him, he knows it’s way worse for Bryce. He’ll never say it aloud, but he was kind of grateful when Gavin got injured and flew home halfway through the trip, because he came over to their place during games and kept Bryce company.

Jared appreciates Gavin’s sacrifice. Gavin not so much.

That had been Elaine’s job, but Jared’s pretty sure she handed over the duty to Gavin without an ounce of regret. Even she has limits. At least, Jared assumes she does? He’s never seen her reach them, but they have to exist.

Bryce’s DWI. That was her limit. She had never been angrier at Bryce than that day, and never will be again.

“Wait, is that Oilers game tape?” Bryce asks.

“If we lose this game Julius is going to keep holding my blanket hostage,” Jared says. “So we can’t lose.”

Bryce is a little concerned about his husband’s sanity right now.

“Babe,” Bryce says. “It’s not your blanket anymore, you know that, right? He’s not holding it hostage, he just has like, custody of it. It’s a bet blanket now.”

“It’s my bet blanket,” Jared says. “That I’m going to win. And refuse to give back, even if we lose.”

Bryce gives him an almost comically disappointed look. “That’s not how bets work, J.”

You can’t break the terms of the bet. That’s low. Bryce is judging you.

“It’s a bet blanket now,” Bryce says gently.

“I know it is,” Jared mutters. He would give it back if the Canucks lost. Probably. The important thing is to never lose to the Oilers again so that it isn’t relevant.

“Is this a weird thing you have to do by yourself?” Bryce asks. “Or can I watch the Oilers in the dark too?”

Bryce is truly such a great guy. How did Jared get so lucky.

“You should see who’s at the door,” Bryce says, in the worst casual voice ever.

“If you got me a singing valentine or some shit—“ Jared says. It’s nowhere near Valentine’s, but that’s hardly something that would stop Bryce.

Fair.

“Let me in!” comes from the hall, and Jared’s blood goes cold.

“Why is there a demon at our door?” Jared hisses.

Bryce has the audacity to roll his eyes and get up himself.

Do demons have to be invited in or is that just vampires?

“Yeah, a ninety minute flight is like, a crazy long trip,” Erin says, shoving a bag off one of the stools around the island in their kitchen before sitting down. Jared thinks that might be the first time someone’s sat there since the day they moved in. The couch is for eating when they’re not hosting, and they don’t really host — well, ever. Unless Gavin counts, but Jared has doubts. And Elaine’s Elaine.

“Oh sick, I was looking for that everywhere,” Bryce says.

They do often drink coffee at the island, but that’s a leaning on the counter sort of situation. The stools aren't actually all that comfortable, and rather than, oh, get other ones, they just sort of...avoid them.

Jared squints at her. “You’re just in Vancouver because Julius is.”

“Yeah, no shit,” Erin says. “And I should be ashamed of myself, considering the incredible welcome I’m receiving from you.”

Erin is experiencing such hospitality.

Bryce hipchecks his way past Jared to give Erin another hug. “Jared’s just jet lagged and grumpy,” he says. “I’m really happy you’re here.”

But unironically, in the case of Bryce. This is why he’s her favourite brother.

Jared will not quit glaring, but he does take a seat, after displacing a sweater that has probably been there since last spring.

“Hey, I was looking for that too,” Bryce says delightedly.

Bryce gets to see Erin AND recovers objects he thought were lost forever? Today’s so great.

“Yes please,” Erin says. “You’re going to give me a complex if you keep looking at me like that, Jared.”

“Good,” Jared says, but hauls her in for a one-armed hug, releasing her before Bryce turns away from the fridge. The last thing Jared wants to do is give him the impression that inviting Erin to visit is acceptable behaviour.

Yeah, can’t show weakness by…letting your husband see you hug your sister?

“Oh man,” Erin says, somehow reading Jared’s mind, which he hates that she can still do. “Do you think I can meet Stephen while I’m here?”

“No,” Jared says flatly. He will do everything in his power to prevent that from happening. He fears he’ll learn firsthand how it feels to be a middle child if he does.

That’s exactly what Erin’s hoping for.

“I can ask Gabe if they’re free after the game tomorrow,” Bryce says, pulling his phone out of his pocket.

Jared digs his fingers into Bryce’s knee under the table.

“I’m asking,” Bryce says, not even bothering to look injured.

It’s cute that you think you can stop him.

She’s presumably staying with Julius tonight, but the Oilers have to be flying out right after the game tomorrow, since they’ve got a matinee against the Golden Seals on Sunday. He’s unsure Bryce is willing to give up his sulking room before he returns to game shape. Or possibly ever. He likes a good sulk. Jared doesn’t even think he’s sulking in there all the time, has pivoted to watching shitty TV without Jared’s judgment and facetiming Maia. At least Jared hopes that’s what the ‘Bryce talking to a baby’ voice is about.

That is precisely what Bryce is using the sulking room for now. Bad TV and video chats. Also naps sometimes.

“Elaine insisted I stay with her,” Erin says. “We’re having a girl’s day on Sunday, then she’s taking me to the airport.”

Of course Elaine did. Of course they are.

Elaine always wanted a daughter too, she is as thrilled to spoil Erin as Bryce is.

Bryce looks up from his phone. “Can I come for girl’s day?”

“Duh,” Erin says.

“Sick,” Bryce says.

“I don’t want to come for girl’s day,” Jared says. “For the record.”

“We know,” Bryce says, over Erin’s snort.

Nobody even invited you.

154. The Spoils

“Halla,” Jared says. “We meet again.”

I do have some series where in media res isn’t out of place, but Jared isn’t one of them, so this is a bit of a shake up. I just really wanted a tight focus mano-a-mano standoff that is entirely undermined by the fact it’s over a fucking blanket.

“You better have brought the blanket,” Jared says.

“I did,” Julius says. “It made for very comfortable naps on the plane. It is a good blanket.”

“Your next plane nap is going to suck,” Jared says.

“Maybe,” Julius says. “Or maybe it will be a victory nap.”

“That’s all you’ve got?” Jared says. “Victory nap?”

“Want to talk trash in Finnish instead?” Julius asks.

First point goes to Halla.

“Are you guys almost done with that trash talking?” Rogers asks. “You’re kind of blocking the locker room.”

“Shit, sorry,” Jared says, and he and Julius scoot out of the way to let Rogers through.

Also it starting with a tight focus on them facing off means I can introduce details later, like the fact they’re standing right in front of the visitors room, blocking everybody.

“Nice to see you, Jared,” Rogers says.

“Yeah, you too, Darryl,” Jared says, accepting the shoulder clap from Rogers, the loose hug from Morris as he follows Rogers into the locker room.

Love you Roge, love you Benny.

“I’m gonna—“ Jared says, pausing while yet another Oiler nudges past them into the room.

How dare everyone undermine the dignity of this blanket fight by using the visitors room for its intended purpose.

“I have practice. Enjoy losing tonight.”

“No one enjoys losing,” Julius says.

“Obviously,” Jared says. “It’s a saying. It’s like—“

Julius blinks at him.

“It’s just a thing you say,” Jared says. “Precisely because nobody enjoys losing.”

Julius continues to blink at him.

“Are you fucking with me?” Jared asks.

I love when Julius uses his natural poker face for evil.

“I told Coach your sister is in town,” Gabe says when Jared gets onto the ice, surprised he didn’t get yelled at for showing up to practice ten minutes late. Coach is fine if you run late, but only if you let him know in advance, and Jared’s side-trip was due to a slightly deranged whim when he saw Oilers leaving the ice after their own practice.

Slightly?

Also look at Gabe, making excuses for Jared (not lying though! He said only facts. Gabe draws the line at lying in most situations.)

“Had a meeting with some Oilers,” Jared says.

“You know, anyone else I’d assume that was a euphemism for catching up with old friends,” Gabe says. “But not you.”

“Thank you,” Jared says.

“It wasn’t a compliment,” Gabe says after a moment.

Jared is aware. Still thankful, though.

Better to be known as ridiculous than as friendly, says Jared. Am I right?

(Julius is with him.)

“Julius,” Jared calls.

Julius pretends not to hear him.

I love that Jared has stooped to ‘pay attention to me!’.

No Erin. Jared guesses she doesn’t need to swarm the glass to see him, but he was curious what jersey she’d be wearing. Presumably Oilers, but Jared wouldn’t put it past her to wear a Matheson Oilers jersey to piss both him and Julius off.

I also love that Jared knows his sister just as well as she knows him. That is exactly what she’s wearing. Nobody knows who she's cheering for.

“I’m busy,” Julius says. “We already talked trash. Now I am warming up.”

Jared sputters. “I’m not done.”

Julius starts skating away. Backwards, to be extra annoying.

“I’m not done, Julius!” Jared says.

Julius waves goodbye, then turns around and skates over to the Julius Halla Fan Club by the net, grabbing a puck and flipping it to a kid holding a sign.

Another point to Halla.

Jared eyes the red line.

“Don’t do it, Math,” Gabe says, suddenly hovering at his shoulder, like he sensed trouble.

“Ugh,” Jared says, and goes to practice shooting until he isn’t so tempted to hip check Julius right into the Oilers bench.

Point to Markson.

“You’re welcome for the stupid blanket,” Ridley says when when Jared reaches him in the goalie appreciation line.

AKA the ‘hug your goalie line’.

Jared receives a text from Julius letting him know that Erin will be facilitating the blanket hand off, since the Oilers are headed straight to the airport. He’d prefer if it came directly from Julius, but post-game travel nights are what they are — the absolute worst, especially after losses — and that’s before you include the wrinkle of his girlfriend being in town. Jared isn’t petty enough to demand Julius carve out some of his very limited remaining time in Vancouver for the hand off. He probably would be, honestly, except he still remembers how hard it was for him and Bryce to work around competing hockey schedules.

Point for Matheson, but I refuse to indicate which.

“Sting a little to hand it over?” Jared asks smugly, taking the blanket from her. He squints at her outfit: no Canucks jersey, but no Oilers jersey either. A sweater Jared vaguely recognises as one Bryce got her for Christmas a few years back. Bryce clearly recognises it too — he looks pleased.

Erin’s no longer repping either side. Only Bryce’s.

“Dad owes me a dinner of my choice,” Erin says.

“Dad owes — of course he does,” Jared says.

“Some people don’t put their family first,” Erin says. “But I do, Jared. I do.”

“How would Julius feel if he knew you were betting against him?” Jared asks.

“He’s eaten dad’s food before,” Erin says with a shrug. “And I promised a cut of the spoils, obviously. I’m cashing in on a Battle of Alberta night. Julius wants salmon.”

Julius figures if he loses the game, he may as well get a good homecooked meal out of it.

“He knows, then,” Jared says.

Of course she didn’t accidentally give Jared leverage. She would never make such a rookie mistake.

Never underestimate the master.

“Is that Stephen?” Erin says, sitting straighter. “That’s Gabe, so that’s definitely Stephen.”

She has been waiting for this moment since the first time Jared referred to him as ‘the worst person I have ever met’ in a complimentary tone.

She stands up, smoothing her sweater out like she doesn’t want to appear wrinkled in Stephen’s presence. Which is the right call, honestly. Stephen is a very judgmental person.

She hopes to collaborate with Stephen in being mean to Jared, and first impressions are very important.

“Littlest Matheson,” Stephen says, as he arrives at the table. “We finally meet.”

“Jared’s tormentor,” Erin says. “I’ve heard so many terrible things about you.”

Stephen holds his arms out, and Erin walks right into them.

“Neither of you are huggers!” Jared says. “Like, at all!”

They’ll make an exception for co-conspirators.

He tries to make longsuffering eye contact with Gabe, but Gabe just grins back at him.

Stephen has also been waiting for this moment. Gabe is enjoying his enthusiasm.

“It’s like having another sister,” Stephen says over Erin’s head. “But not terrible because she’s not mine.”

He understands Gabe’s affection for his sisters a little better. Not WELL, but better.

Jared is going to meet Stephen’s sisters, and he is going to befriend them for the sole purpose of gaining blackmail material about Stephen, of which he’s sure there is plenty, and then Stephen will regret this day.

Jared keeping things in perspective while he silently plots his revenge.

But right now Jared appears to be the only one regretting this day. Everybody else appears to be having a great time.

I am included in everybody else.

“Stop hugging each other!” Jared says, then, “No, don’t — this is not a group hug moment, Erin! Stephen! Get off of me!”

The collaboration begins.

“Delete that footage,” Jared says, then, “Seriously, Bryce?”

“I’m just sending it to my mom,” Bryce protests.

So, reminder that this video makes it to social media, and that the ‘seriously, Bryce?’ is used as supporting evidence that Bryce and Jared are married, because Jared is using a 'you are exasperating me' voice that is not exactly bros.

Elaine appreciates the video very much.

“Everybody but Bryce, delete it,” Jared says, though he doesn’t have much hope he’ll be obeyed, and even less hope it won’t end up online somewhere. He’s sure that’s exactly the sort of thing the Canucks social media team would love to get their hands on. He’s sure that the more undignified he looks, the more they’d want it. And he suspects he looked extremely undignified.

Every single one of Jared’s assumptions is correct. Especially the last one.

Erin posts a few pictures that end up on the internet when she gets home — or, Jared guesses, the wider internet, not just Erin’s followers on Instagram.

Considering Erin is dating the Oilers star forward, sister of his former liney, and 'practically sister' of the Canucks star forward, naturally she has plenty of followers from the hockey world. And naturally people enjoy pictures of Jared looking like he’s suffering greatly while getting hugged by his sister and someone many misidentify as Julius.

“I don’t know who she was cheering for, but she bet on the Canucks,” Jared says, then internally winces, because with the way the internet twists everything, that’ll turn into some ‘Erin Matheson is a disloyal girlfriend’ storyline. Jared hates twitter. And crap, add a possible ‘player’s girlfriend is betting on hockey games!’, now that Jared’s thinking about it.

“Just a bet she had with my dad,” he adds hastily. If dad gets some ‘Don Matheson is a disloyal dad’ he deserves it.

Good on Jared catching that in time, because yeah, ‘disloyal girlfriend’ definitely would have been the takeaway. And disloyal dad is indeed deserved. Jared doesn’t remember his dad cheering for the Oilers when he was one.

Jared’s stupid interview gets a ton of likes, and he doesn’t even know why.

The blanket bet is a great storyline. They will both regret that.

Someone always tells him when something important happens, like the Erin and Bryce thing, and the Erin and Julius thing, and — Erin seems to be the common denominator in a lot of these.

Jared’s ignorance of his own beauty extending to all Mathesons.

Erin continues to wreak havoc by posting the video of Jared being attacked by her and Stephen the next day. Jared doesn’t know if she got it from Bryce, or Elaine, or one of the other Canucks is a traitor, but of course that gets a ton of likes too, because people on the internet also enjoy when Jared’s dignity is wounded, apparently.

It truly is enjoyable to watch Jared’s dignity suffer, can't blame 'em at all.

People also seem to think Stephen is Julius, even though he looks absolutely nothing like him, beyond also being blond and around the same height. Different build, different haircut, different everything. Also he literally says Stephen’s name in the video. Jared is so tired.

The internet has unfortunately made it quite evident just how many people go around life misinterpreting everything they see.

The sulking room is already occupied when Jared goes to use it. Bryce looks up from his phone when, expression suspiciously happy for the locale.

As I said earlier, it is now also used for watching bad TV, getting his fill of Maia (and Ashley), and naps.

“Say hi to Maia?” Bryce says, which explains everything, and Jared says some things to Maia that she surely doesn’t understand, like how big she’s gotten — it is insane how fast babies grow — and how she’s shaping up to be a Chaz mini-me, because it’s uncanny. He feels absurd the whole time, even though neither Bryce nor Ash laugh at him, though they’re both doing the thin lipped thing like they want to, but they recognise it will hurt his remaining pride.

Jared is using a baby voice. Both Bryce and Ashley know better than to alert him of that fact.

“You’re not sulking,” Jared says.

“No,” Bryce says. “Maia.”

It is extremely hard to sulk when paying attention to Maia, actually. Jared temporarily forgot why he came in the first place.

Babies are great like that.

“But this is the sulking room,” Jared says.

“Did you need to sulk?” Bryce asks.

“Yes, actually,” Jared says.

Mom says it’s my turn with the sulking room.

“I swear I didn’t give it to her,” Bryce says.

He doesn’t need to tell Jared that. Not because Jared trusts him implicitly or anything — Erin is very good at manipulating Bryce into doing what she wants — but because he’s realised that Bryce was sitting at a completely different angle than the video was taken from. It was either Stevie or Dmitry. Jared suspects the latter for obvious reasons.

Why do you doubt Dmitry like this? What has he ever done to deserve this?

(Yes it was Dmitry.)

“I know what’ll make you feel better,” Bryce says, then heads out of the room, returning after a minute carrying the blanket under his arm.

And he is correct.

“You’re ridiculous,” Jared says, then, “Come nap with me,” and the least sulky nap ever to happen in the sulking room is officially underway.

Julius was right: it is an excellent blanket for victory naps.

The spoils of victory.

[maxdibert]

Hi!

My question isn’t fandom-related, and it’s okay if you don’t want to answer, but I’m really curious about the topic and hope it’s not offensive or intrusive.

I saw in your bio that you have ADHD, and as someone who suspects they might have it, I wanted to ask how things were for you before your diagnosis—did you notice you were “different” or anything like that? I’ve always felt odd compared to other people, and when I first heard about ADHD, it was completely random, so I didn’t give it much thought. But when I read and researched more deeply, I identified with a lot of the “symptoms.” Since I can’t afford medical care right now, I’d love to hear about your experience.

Ugh, it was quite a long journey. As a child, I was very hyperactive and quite anxious. I frequently experienced episodes where I couldn’t stop vomiting, and it happened very often, but doctors couldn’t find anything wrong with me. At the same time, I always had serious concentration issues in class, though I wasn’t disruptive — I just couldn’t focus on a lesson for more than five minutes.

These problems got much worse during high school, to the point where going to class felt like torture. Not because I had issues with my classmates — in fact, I had a solid group of friends and even what you might call a “popular” social life. But still, I had a really hard time, to the point of experiencing severe anxiety because concentrating was impossible; I would spend entire classes dissociating.

That’s also when I started noticing my hyperfocuses. Since I was a kid, I’d had intense obsessions with certain topics that would consume me for weeks. As a teenager, this intensified to the point of affecting me emotionally. If I got into a subject, it became everything to me, and I couldn’t pay attention to anything else. I had to know everything, research it in depth, and develop my own perspective, turning it over and over in my mind. But no one noticed because the adults around me just thought I was lazy or not trying hard enough.

After high school, I didn’t know what to do, so I went to London for a year to work and learn English. It was a very stressful year where I was constantly on the go, like I was being controlled remotely, barely sleeping, and living in complete chaos. It wasn’t until I started university the following year that everything exploded, and I had my first severe anxiety episode. I basically stopped eating because just seeing food made me vomit, and I started having panic attacks, which led to a depressive episode that made me seek therapy for the first time.

I was diagnosed with anxiety disorder and depression. The therapist and I concluded that it was something I’d been dealing with since childhood, which likely explained all my stomach issues back then.

Two years later, when I was 21, I had a second severe anxiety episode caused by several issues at university due to my inability to concentrate and the terrible stress it caused me. This time, I also developed disruptive behaviors and struggled with excesses like drinking and other unhealthy coping mechanisms. That’s when I started seeing a psychiatrist because, once again, I couldn’t eat properly for months, and I couldn’t take it anymore. I started medication for anxiety and depression, and things seemed to improve.

However, even with medication and feeling much better, I still couldn’t control my obsessions, stay focused, organize myself, or manage my time. I was always doing a hundred things at once without a clear system. I’d always thought these problems were anxiety-related, but since I no longer felt anxious and was relatively stable, I suspected something else was going on.

An ex of mine suggested I might have ADHD, though I’d never considered it because I thought ADHD was only about being hyperactive, and that didn’t fit me. But I decided to see a psychologist specializing in the field. That’s how I started the evaluation process, and after completing it, I was diagnosed with inattentive-type ADHD, and my medication was adjusted accordingly.

My advice, if you don’t have the resources to pay for a private specialist or specific tests, is to look for support groups or assistance programs. Mental health organizations often have specialized advisors who can guide you on what resources are available to help you get a diagnosis. I say this because I don’t know where you’re from, and every country has its own healthcare systems and procedures.

I don’t know if this helps you in any way but i wish it does at least a little. Good luck in eveythink and tale care 🙏🏻💜

[thwackk]

You know I've always found it weird that out of all people, Barry is the character DC chose to make their copaganda tool. Because if anyone has a backstory that would make someone hate and distrust the police it would be Barry. Like his mom was murdered and the cops immediately arrest and put away his dad for life and refuse to reopen the case. Barry goes into the forensic field in the first place because he acknowledges the flaws of the justice system and wants to make sure it never happens again and to prove his dad innocent. It's just a really hypocritical backstory to his "cops are good" mentality nowadays.

Someone correct me if I get some of my facts wrong:

Well in the original silver age comics none of that happens to his parents, he’s just already a cop and scientist and suddenly gets superpowers. Giving him that type of backstory instantly gave him more depth and made him more intriguing as a character and I actually disagree, I don’t think he would “hate cops” seeing as he was practically raised by one (if we’re going with this story). I think moreso he would hate the system and how it works. I also don’t believe he would think “all cops are good” either because he’s a logical person with common sense but alas. the writers hate using their brains. anyways,

It makes complete sense why he himself would want to dive into that world and actively be a part of it because after witnessing such an event go down so unfairly as a child and wanting more than anything to know the truth abt his own mother’s murder, he would of course want to learn to do it himself so he can help other people going through the same thing, and find the truth because he knows exactly what it’s like and how frustratingly unfair it is. he knows how much it sucks. He doesn’t trust the system to do it, he trusts himself. But unfortunately, he is not given that type of depth, the execution is not handled very well half the time

[deathbyseventeen]

DBS Masterlist

Hello! You’ve found my mobile masterlist. Congrats! Hopefully you find something you like here 💕 

Trigger Warnings can be found in the descriptions of the fics when you click on them! 

GUIDE: A Personal Fave [ ✨] | Popular Post [❤️‍🔥] |  Angst [💔] | Fluff/Romance [ 💕] | Part of a Series/Same Universe [🧩]

<><><><><><><><><><><><D><B><S><><><><><><><><><><><><><>

.OT13.

> Click a Prince ❤️‍🔥 💕

Curse your bullshit destiny. It was decided that on the 100th anniversary of peace in your kingdom, the eldest princess would marry a prince from the other thirteen kingdoms. That day has finally arrived and thirteen princes have gathered. Who will you pick?

> Mirror Stage 💔

If his math is correct, and he sorely doubts it isn’t, then it’s almost time for them to wake. The clock is ticking. He’s waiting.

> AU ideas from the FEAR teasers

5 AU ideas that popped into my mind from the teasers. 

.S.COUPS.

> Blinded 💕 

This isn’t what Seungcheol meant for Jun to do. 

> Trauma 💔

Again? Again. They said to each other as they started the simulation again. 

> Friendship? 💔 💕

He liked you. But no. You liked him. But no. They knew. So why not help a friend out?

.JEONGHAN.

> Before Christmas 💕

A Nightmare Before Christmas AU. 

Crossing through a door in the woods, you and Chan end up on Earth. And you really just freaked out a man named Jeonghan. 

.JOSHUA.

> 3lue ✨ 🧩 💔 💕

(World: 3lue AU)

Blue. His powers were blue. It’s been years since you last saw him. Your memories of him were also blue. 

> A Dance Meant for Two 💕 💔

> Because You Were Gone ❤️‍🔥 💕 💔

You never knew when to give up. It wasn’t your superpower but it sure seemed like it.

> Guardian Angel 🧩 💕 💔

(Series: of Guardian Angels) 

You had taken some notes on the page, not many— the professor’s lecture had been brief and had ended with a “simple” question. One single question that for some unexplainable reason — except that the topic had always existed in the depths of your brain — seemed to rattle you.

You blinked, the words came into focus: Renaissance Art 14th to 17th Century: Religious Depictions: Angles.  

> I Saw 💕

Maybe you should have thought of your wishlist beforehand….

> Untitled AU 

From a Song+Member inbox night

> The Switch 💕 💔

Perhaps it was karma that he wasn’t in his own body anymore, living it up and spending his money the way he wanted to. To you that was a bittersweet blessing. Maybe he could change (you doubted it), but at the very least, you got to meet Seungcheol (and Woozi). 

> What is Love?

A 100-word drabble 

.JUN.

> Breathless Words 💕

Being alone on Christmas Eve isn’t as rare as everyone makes it out to be. Then you go and meet him.  

.HOSHI.

> Princess, Please  ❤️‍🔥 💕

You tried getting out of the field trip to the reindeer ranch. Hoshi’s family owned it and you’ve been avoiding him as much as you could. 

> Secret Santa 💕 💔

You spent so much time, and thought, trying to find Hoshi the right Christmas present. You’d only forgotten the Secret Santa exchange was going to happen during class. 

> G&R: Yule Ball 💕

Anger came when things didn’t happen like you hoped. But at least he loved you and overlooked your outburst. Now just…confess.

> Missed Connections  ✨ ❤️‍🔥 🧩 💕 💔

(Series: Between the Dusty and the Sparks)

They’re from different societies, meant to hate each other. But when you don’t know where the other’s from…there’s always the possibility of love. But when they find out, what are they meant to do?

.WONWOO.

> The Marionnettiste || Part 2 💕

Too shy to pursue. Too bold to let you go so easily. Want to play a game a chess? Some one has to make the first move.

> Guarded 🧩 💕 💔

(Series: of Guardian Angels)

He hadn’t seen you in so long. There was a reason for that.

> Letting Go ❤️‍🔥 💕

All Wonwoo had wanted was for you to show up to Mingyu’s party. It’s bene hours since it started and he’s already lost all hope. 

> Untitled AU

From a Song+Member inbox night

.WOOZI.

> Saving Colors 💕

Black is black, red is red - find it, find me - before All Hallows Eve ends. Before it’s too late.

> Night ❤️‍🔥 💕

When the cute guy you keep staring at in the campus cafe turns out to be your neighbor (and you’ve been unknowingly annoying them for a while). Christmas break just got better. 

> Miraculous Ladybug!Woozi || Part 2

Woozi as the Miraculous Ladybug headcannons. 

> I’ll be your Heaven, I’ll be your Hell 🧩 💕 💔

(Series: of Guardian Angels) 

He saw you often, even through the pain because it was the only wish that kept coming true.

> Since the Day I Met You || Part 2  ✨ 🧩 💕 💔

(Series: Between the Dusty and the Sparks)

For better or worse, he’s been your friend since the day you met. You’ve been through a lot together already, you, Jihoon, and your ragtag rebel family. But someone messed up, someone made the elitist Sparks government focus on you all– a group of nobody rebels in the cast-off City of Dust that have never even seen the luxury of the walled-off City of Sparks. With a heavy, love-stricken heart, choices have to be made; and, as the leaders of this family, for better or worse

they will be made.

.SEOKMIN/DK.

> Warmth  🧩 💔 💕

(World: 3lue AU) 

Ice had to meet Sunshine at some point, but they had to learn how to stand on their own.

.MINGYU.

nothing here, sorry :( 

.THE8/HAO. > Drunken Mornings ❤️‍🔥 💕

A party long into the night gives you a hungover morning, and memories of a drunken morning. 

> Ashes 💔

You weren’t ready to admit what it was, the song you kept hearing in your head as grew up. Neither of you were. But, it never changed what it was: a curse teasing you about its impending arrival. 

.SEUNGKWAN. 

> Fight or Fight 💕

...He’s forgetting something… isn’t he?

> Peppermint 💕

(Soulmate AU) 

Who was to guess that it was in demise that Head Elf #11, otherwise known as Seungkwan, would finally meet his soulmate. 

.VERNON.

> Monster Mash 💔

It’s at a Halloween party two weeks after an accident, that Vernon and you are haunted. 

> Snowed In ❤️‍🔥 💕

Arrangements are made when no one can go home because they’re snowed inside. 

.DINO. 

> Sleigh Bells 💕 💔

I jingled some bells. You didn’t notice. They threw bells. You noticed.  You said bells rang in your head - so could you listen to mine?  

> A Dream of You 💔

It’s only in your dreams that you’re still able to see him.

> 5:15pm: As the World Caves In (Teaser)💕 💔 

Coming home after the apocalypse. Home sweet home. 

> As the World caves In (Full Fic)  💕 💔

(Post-Apocalyptic AU, Zombies!AU)

The world ended on a Tuesday in November, days after Halloween, when the sun was less than an hour away from setting. Chan had just left his dorm’s building, late to his History of Dance 136A lecture, when it happened. You hadn’t been as lucky on the day the world began to crumble.

[variousqueerthings]

okok final thoughts about the movie after all that:

1. pleased to have watched it, despite my laundry list of criticisms

2. I didn’t think any of it was comedic in the gallows humour sense I assume it was going for. that may be an effect of ageing, but then, mash 1974- is frequently excellent at this, including and especially in its first seasons 

3. read that there was a subplot that happened after the movie has ho-jon getting conscripted by the south korean army (after which in the film we never see him again, and I think that was the most “oh, this isn’t my hawkeye” moment actually, because he kinda just goes “dammit” and then it cuts to something else, and that’s it), in which he’s killed and his body comes through the 4077th, and I think that would have been better in the context of what I think the movie wanted to do?

4. I do get a bit lost in the movie’s intentions, I confess. is it war is hell and so we become worse people? is it surreal antics in the face of serious conflict? is it related to the military really? is it that this is just what it was like? none of it really... slots into place for me, because there’s a bits that dispute every one of these, and mainly I guess I just don’t see what apparently a bunch of reviewers saw

5. the roger ebert review at the time: “There is something about war that inspires practical jokes and the heroes ... are inspired and utterly heartless ... We laugh,  ... because it is so true to the unadmitted sadist in all of us. There is perhaps nothing so exquisite as achieving ... sweet mental revenge against someone we hate with particular dedication. And it is the flat-out, poker-faced hatred in "M*A*S*H" that makes it work. ... We laugh, that we may not cry ... We can take the unusually high gore-level in "M*A*S*H" because it is originally part of the movie's logic. If the surgeons didn't have to face the daily list of maimed and mutilated bodies, none of the rest of their lives would make any sense ... One of the reasons "M*A*S*H" is so funny is that it's so desperate.”

6. I get confused about how a lot of the reviews discussed it in the context of war, when for me I felt like the Korean war was almost totally absent (in practicality as well as in feeling), apart from the occasional nuisance it caused the characters. maybe for its time it was very gory/very real/very desperate, but I don’t see it today -- the imdb also states that “the staff of a Korean War field hospital use humor and high jinks to keep their sanity in the face of the horror of war,” and I was just there wondering... what war? horrific to whom? and it’s not like war films in which war is very present hadn’t been made before this, but perhaps just not in really in America. the very idea of challenging the American military logic even a little may have been a breath of fresh air?

7. altman called the book racist and pretty terrible, but apparently the movie doesn’t deviate much from it, which is... interesting

8. I can see why this was a hit when it came out. I just feel such a visceral shudder at it watching it now, that it’s hard to even judge it on the merits of the time in which it came out

9. on that note, I am once again fascinated by the intentions going into the show. the pilot episode especially certainly has more movie DNA in it than the rest, but the casting immediately created different tensions, especially of course alan alda, but also wayne rogers, larry linville, and of course loretta swit. the fact that they’re setting up recurring characters also gives them more of a depth -- you know that things will happen and shift and change, whereas in the movie the point is the aimless drift from thing to thing

10. actually the aimless drifting + loudspeaker interludes were my favourite parts of the film -- my least favourite thing (structurally, otherwise it would be the misogyny) is the football match at the end, which was... odd. dull. if there was an absence of war before that, it totally disappeared for a substantial amount of runtime to just show this flipping football thing happening

11. how many of the hijinks from the movie/book were in the show -- I’m going to make a separate post for that

[mintywolf]

A Long Road Home Author Notes - Page 1

Hello! Going forward I’m going to be attaching author notes here on my personal blog for anyone interested in hearing me ramble about this. :)

For Page 1.

If you’ve been following me for a while you probably know me best from Guardian, my last big comic. (For those who don’t, it’s a graphic novel about Lulu from Final Fantasy X. You can read it here: @guardian-comic) Since finishing work on that in early 2020 I’ve been struggling to get a new project started. I’d had a number of other original and fan projects backburnered but found I had a hard time caring about them. (Or honestly, much of anything, after the plague malaise took over. A lot of things, on both a global and personal scale, happened in 2020 that made art just Hard in a way that it hadn’t been before, a feeling I’ve seen shared by a lot of creatives at the time.)

Then CR Campaign 3 started and I don’t know what it is exactly about Laudna and Imogen but these characters and their relationship have my entire heart. I have not hyperfixated this hard on something in years. As with Guardian the impulse to express all the heart emojis bursting out of the depths of my being in the form of an unwieldy graphic novel came out of nowhere, and the beginnings of it came in a dream. (Although as also with Guardian, the pages that I dreamt for it never actually made it into the comic, haha.) I woke up that morning feeling in my soul that it was Time. 

Fortunately I have the benefit of 10 years of experience this time so rather than just diving headlong into another opus I spent several months planning, outlining, writing the script, and working on character designs. I’ve thought before that if I’d known exactly how big Guardian was going to be at the outset I never would have been able to get started. This time I know. And friends . . . it is another behemoth. D: A few times, watching the script steadily balloon in size, I stopped to think what are you doing, this is insane, this could be a fic and take a fraction of the time, but I have no sense of artistic self-preservation. :D

I’m still scared! I know from having done it before that I can do it again, but it still feels very Big and I’m still working my way back up to the level of artistic productivity I had then. But I’m excited about it in a way I haven’t been about a creative project in a long, long time.

For a long time it didn’t have a title, it was just called “Southern Gothic Meet Cute Prequel Comic??” at the top of the script page. That got shortened to “Southern Gothic,” which fits it both as a ship and a genre, but I decided that was a little too cheeky since it is the ship name (one of them) and also not very indicative as a title. The meaning of the new one will I hope become evident as the story goes on. (I never did change the tumblr url though. It is what it is.)

Yeah so! Here we go. Here’s Imogen, with some curiously bare arms!

It’s implied that Flora is a white horse (when Imogen selects horses for the journey to the Heartmoor Chetney remarks that he thought she’d prefer a white horse, but she says she doesn’t want to replace Flora) and originally I intended to draw her that way but I ended up liking the palomino paint look. (Incidentally my first horse in Breath of the Wild looked like this so it’s kind of nostalgic for me. ;)) She’s still mostly white. She kind of disappears from the scene because it’s a dream. In the narration she always runs away before the storm hits.

I think I over-rendered the backgrounds, haha. But I just got all these cool grass and field brushes just for this! (Available here.) The quilt was also more intricate originally but I didn’t want to drive myself insane trying to keep the pattern the same every time we see it, so I simplified it a little. It’s still cute. Also a recurring staple of my art: cute jammies. :)

Her bedroom is in the attic, which we’ll get a more clear picture of later. I imagine she’d have moved up there to be as far away from the presence of other minds as possible.

[athinveil]

saw you in the notes of some post saying you work in finance. like, no pressure, and i'm not expecting any depth from a tumblr ask, but... do you have any advice for people living paycheck to paycheck other than the classic "make a budget"? (i have already discovered that getting a credit card does not help.)

just wondering if there's anything you've learned from your profession that you wish was better known to the public

https://undebt.it/ is a big help to help pay off debt efficiently undebt it - google search if you don’t like hitting links - I don’t hitting links. I have a super hard time with budgets myself. And credit cards are rough - I get manic and then my budget friendly self can’t keep up with manic me.

Apologies in advance if some of this is like bro - I don’t live a place w these stores - just mentally replace store names with what’s around you.

If your debt has an interest rate under 7%, pay the minimums because a lot of investments will grow at 7% or better (common examples - car loans, most student loans, mortgages, etc.). Typically it’s better to focus on the higher interest loans/debt first. If it’s above 7%, prioritize that. A lot of minimum payments will also never pay off your debt - designed to keep you in it.

If you have a Roth option in your work retirement account, do that. It’s taxed now instead of in retirement - taxes only go up over time. However if you need to reduce your taxable income, then pretax dollars will do that. Only contribute up to the match if it’s not Roth. If it’s pretax, then you usually only want do up to the match. Maximize the free money you can get from your employer.

Always opt into long term disability insurance at work. When you can afford some extra coverage check out supplemental (most employers offer 60% in the US - if you only were paid 60% of your income it would be rough), life insurance is cheap - 200k is a small policy. The company you go with matters. A company like mass mutual or northwestern mutual (I’m at northwestern) gives higher dividends- basically a good chunk of profit goes back to policy holders instead of stockholders. Most companies can run company comparisons. Insurance pays for financial security. It’s not a scam - which is genuinely what I thought of it before I got into the field and understood it better.

Whole life insurance costs more - but it’s worth it. It’s like buying your insurance instead of renting. Again company matters - example: northwestern mutual cash value grows historically at 5% on average, give or take, usually give. It’s money you can use to collateralize a loan or take a loan out against your own policy and “be your own bank” - downside, if finances are unstable, it’s a policy with regular premiums. Unlike a Roth you can stop contributing to any time, you’re paying for coverage and it’s monthly or whatever interval without much for exceptions. Probably not a good fit for you right now with being paycheck to paycheck - but something to keep in mind for the future.

Some of my hacks for my own life and my tight budget - I get most of my stuff off of Facebook marketplace for free or cheap - if you search something for a week or two and save the cheap items eventually they’ll appear for free or less and less. You just gotta be quick to ask and pick up. I picked up a stand alone pantry cabinet yesterday for free so now I have more storage space for non-perishables. Also if you just always keep free and “curb alert” as a regular search item you’ll find good stuff. I’ve picked up some things that I know have value near me - like fish tanks with stands only to resell them later at market value which is higher because I’m in a city/suburban outskirts - I only deal in cash on Facebook because they wanna start tracking and people can’t rescind a $20 electronically.

There are food shelves that don’t require minimums. There’s also no shame in seeing if you can get assistance from the government. If you can boost yourself to live better, do it.

The dollar tree (and some other dollar stores) - while most food at the dollar tree isn’t a good deal - I’ve also found shelf stable tofu, pesto, mustard (1.25 vs $5 for pesto). I also have pets - my cats get their toys on a stick with the dangly strings from the dollar tree. I get all of my cleaning products at the dollar tree. You can also make your own - one super simple one is lemon juice (from bottle), white vinegar, and water.

I shop at specific places for specific items. I get carbon litter box filters at my hardware store because they’re a dollar there instead of $5-7 elsewhere.

I order my groceries online - it’s convenient but it also eliminates a lot of impulse shopping. I pay $10/month for it, but I save more than $10 in not impulse buying.

I mostly avoid target - target has done research on how to get you to buy more - it works. So I avoid it. Not that other stores don’t do similarly, but I know that I will fail myself at target - sort of a figure out your vices.

I shop at discount grocery stores. I got to Asian grocery stores for tea because I get way more tea for way less. I go to Aldi for most of my vegetarian foods and also their chicken. Most of their stuff is a fair bit cheaper and I’ve figured out which off brand or Aldi brand stuff I like.

I work in a super fancy office - think of a building with literal halls with marble tile. I get 99% of my clothes from thrift stores. I’m picky - I try to buy only things that I feel good in (not I feel okay, but I feel good) and I have a hard time pushing myself over $10 for almost anything. I dress with a classic style because then I don’t have to chase trends. I mostly just wear black pants and a shirt that looks business casual.

Garage sale - I spent a Saturday driving around the town I grew up in going to garage sales. Saturdays are usually the last day sales are open - they want stuff gone as the reality sets in that whatever isn’t sold is being donated. I filled a paper grocery bag full of clothing for my spouse and paid $1. I’ve hit sales where the person just wanted to be done and said just take everything you want, free. I haggle. I ask if they’d do a deal for a bunch of stuff if it’s a good sale. If there’s something I’m looking for or need - I know the value of the item before I go shopping and I know the value of it to me. I wanted a giant bean bag chair. I valued that at a maximum of $20. The going Facebook marketplace was $50-150. I held out and got one for $7 at a thrift store.

Sign up for VIP stuff at thrift stores and reward programs (assuming it’s free). Don’t buy most holiday decor new - thrift stores can barely sell a christmas tree.

Home Depot and many hardware stores offer free how-to classes - you want to learn how to lay tile? Sign up for a class. Learn to diy what you’re comfortable doing. Some labor and know how is worth paying for. Example: I will not lay tile because I can live with a crooked tile if someone else did it. I can’t if I did it. For my sanity, I would pay for that. Minding - I need that done currently and can’t afford it so it’s just not on the reality list.

Grow some of your own food if you can. Grow lights can be cheap and seeds are cheap. Sometimes you can split a pack with a friend. You can also get free pots and gardening materials online easily. Maybe not the seeds tho. If you hate gardening then don’t bother. What you want matters too.

When you buy stuff - make sure you love it when you can. Stuff you love, you will keep and use. Stuff you feel so-so about might end up being donated next year.

Utilize libraries! They have e-books also and there are so many free apps you can download to read them on. If I’m only gonna read a book once, then I shouldn’t own it. Reality is - I don’t reread that many books. Too many more books to read.

If you’re into cold brew coffee - dark roast Walmart makes just as good as a fancy brand that costs more. Try off brand stuff - it’s often way better or exactly the same. Walmart chips ahoy offbrand is better than chips ahoy. ALDIs version of coconut caramel Girl Scout chocolate cookies taste the same as Girl Scout ones but cost under $2.

Find hobbies that don’t cost you money or cost you very little money. Aquarium fish are not that hobby as I’ve learned the hard way. But I have a beautiful dr who tank so at least there’s that. I volunteered for a while with shelter cats - the ones that are in pet stores. I got kitty snuggles and got to put it on my resume. Can’t afford a pet but want one? Foster - the shelter pays for everything. One of my new hobbies is literally finding free things on Facebook marketplace. It’s great.

If you’re on meds and insurance isn’t covering everything - check out goodrx. Also - check different pharmacies and keep checking. CVS wanted $300 for 1 month of my depression meds. I walked away w/o meds. I went to Costco a week later (no membership needed for specifically their pharmacy) and got those same meds for maybe $10 without insurance.

YouTube can also teach you neat skills. Tumblr can too - I got really into tiny homes - still love them but I can’t ethically keep a Great Dane mix and all my cats in a tiny space - a big part of tiny homes is making sure you have what you need but you have it smart. I gleaned a lot from that obsession. How to have a full wardrobe w 30 pieces of clothing but still variety? It showed it. Most tiny home people are about financial freedom - a lot of them perhaps don’t have a financial background, but it’s about gathering info that works for you.

If you have kids - I do not - but I have a niece. So much free stuff from other people. I think I gave my sister in law about the first years worth of clothing for her kid and it mostly cost me some laundry soap and time with marketplace and stopping for bags of free kids clothes on the side of the road (that I then picked through, washed, and donated the iffy ones). I even got a bouncer thingy that I took apart and cleaned and gave her. Plus a stroller for my mother in law - one of those $300 ones that someone just wanted gone at no cost.

I’ve got home owner savings tricks too if you need them - but let’s be honest, few of us can afford homes. I have one in a super sketchy area that has shot spotter tech to help police respond faster to gunfire. But honestly just lucked out and fell into the job I have now.

Buy quality when you can - I got clearance Clark’s brand shoes for my job - I think they cost me $40? They’ve lasted years. I got thrift store shoes and they are falling apart in less than a year. Those same thrift store shoes during the 5 years that I’ve had my clearance Clark’s would have cost more to replace that 5x over.

Make sure you’re taking care of yourself - eat enough, sleep enough. Your health will affect how you work and live - you matter. I do premier protein shakes in the morning so I get enough protein and also account for my inability to wake up with enough time to make food. I try to bring my lunch to work. Peanut butter sandwiches are a big go-to for me. I’m rather sick of them, but for now, it helps me to save a bit and prioritize things that are more important to me.

I’m trying to think of other stuff. I mean maybe you’re already doing a big load of this or have even cut some of these expenses out. I’ve got more pet saving tricks - pets are something in life that bring me so much joy and happiness so I have them and I try to be responsible and smart with spending on them - but maybe you don’t have pets or don’t want them. I love video games so I have a few systems - mainly PC. I wait for sales for games. I still buy things that are discretionary. I buy “what I want” when I can but I try to make sure it really is something that I want. I wait for game reviews to come out.

I try to find easy recipes online with a focus on budget friendly and quick to make. Preferably with leftovers to avoid a peanut butter sandwich for a day or two. I’m in a Facebook group called “what broke vegans eat.” I go to a butcher to get ground beef because it costs the same but has less gristle and they can give me tips on making different things. Plus I can occasionally splurge on something simple - they have the best in house take home and bake lasagna which last me at least 4-5 days between my spouse and I.

What field are you job-wise? What field or kind of work would you want to be in if you could choose? What kind of hours would you prefer to work? Education level? Are you in the US? Might have some tips around that too. Is there an area you want advice on - like X costs so much, what tips do you have for cost savings with that, etc.

So happy to help. Sorry for the novel.