#also this is in no caps because most of it was written ages ago

[candyskiez]

okay hold on guys I need to be emo about infinity train book two. two people who've always been expected to just go along with everything everyone else wants them to be their whole life. one of these people rebelled and thinks nobody could love them as they are because they can either have people who care about them or be themselves. the other never ever does anything for himself because he wants everyone to like him. he doesn't want anyone to be mad at him. but in the process of trying to be someone everyone likes, he becomes a doormat. everyone's his friend but nobody's his close friend. the only one he's really close to, his brother, gets hurt by his complacency. the other is angry and bitter and lashing out at everyone because they preemptively assume everyone will dislike them because they've been punished for existing their entire life. they assume any kindness is out of pity. jesse never does anything for himself and never stands up for what he believes in so everyone likes him, resulting in no true friends. lake pushes everyone out before they can hurt them, resulting in no friends.

and then they meet. and lake dislikes jesse at first because he's so nosy and pushing his ideas on everyone and so loud. and how could someone this different from them ever care about them. they assume he's fake kind and only cares about his own ego. and meanwhile jesse just wants them to like him. even a little bit of rejection messes with him so bad. he can't handle being disliked at the start. just the thought of some strangers disliking him is terrifying to him and that says so much about his self esteem.

lake only really starts to change their mind on jesse in the map car. hears him talk about staging behind so nobody gets upset or left out except him, and they...don't understand. why wouldn't he do what he wants to do? why doesn't he care about what he wants?

and hearing about lakes "friend", he's confused. how could they leave someone like that? how could they willingly lose someone? why would they be so hostile to every potential friend? why are they so insistent on keeping everyone far away? why are they so mean? they don't get each other at first.

toad car is where they learn more about each other.

when jesse learns they're a reflection, he learns it from an authority figure. and jesse at first immediately assumes the authority figure is absolutely correct. why wouldn't lake just tell him? clearly they must be hiding something! and lake is so mad at him when they learn he didn't stand up for his brother. his brother needed someone to look out for him so badly and he failed him. how could he do that?

and then they finally talk and understand each other.

lake learns jesse thought it'd be funny, it'd just be a joke. he didn't think nate would get hurt. he didn't think they'd go that far. and he had no idea how to respond when they'd hurt him like that. when now he had a recording of his brother crying because of something he helped do. and he's realizing now that...maybe if his friends thought *that* would be funny, maybe they weren't good people. maybe there's no level of excuse for that.

and jesse learns about lake too. learns they have never been safe, learns they've been sold out so many times ("why should I trust a guy who sold out his own brother?!" has a whole new meaning), learns they've been punished for existing, learns they're always on the run. they've never had a friend. they've never had someone who loved them.

and they bond. and jesse is still kind to lake after learning what they are. lake tells him, bluntly, your friends suck. you should have better friends. tells him he deserves to be treated better.

and at the carnival, jesse doesn't understand why lake is so upset. they can still beat this weirdo.

but it's not just about losing the game. it's never been about a stupid game. it's about the fact that everyone views them as inherently less. it's about the fact that they'll always be rejected. it's about the fact nobody sees them as a person.

and jesse does something they didn't expect.

he wants them to come home with him. not in a people please everyone way. in a "you're my best friend. I want you to be okay" way. it's the first time they've ever experienced this sort of unconditional love. it's the first time anyone's offered this to them when they gain nothing from it. and that means everything to them.

and that compassion changes them. you see them be so much more protective of him and alan dracula after because now they're learning what it is to be a friend. you already see that compassion blooming before, them telling jesse he should care about what HE wants, their anger for hurting alan dracula, it's already growing. but it becomes even more pronounced in the mall car. they are absolutely willing to throw hands with someone dangerous for alan's sake alone. doesn't even mention how terribly the kids treated them at first. their first priority was alan being harmed.

people are *taught* compassion. so once lake learns what it's like, they develop it more themselves. they learn to be kind while still standing up for themselves against the apex when they treat them like shit.

and jesse is FURIOUS when he sees what everyone's doing. he's uncomfortable in the cube car, because... why are they doing this? it's just making the denizen upset. this feels wrong. so did standing by when his brother got hurt. but before, jesse didn't have the spine to stand up.

but now, when he sees lake and alan being hurt, he doesn't believe the apex. he doesn't fold. he doesn't do whats easy. he takes a stand. because no, even if he wants these people to like him he is NOT standing by. this is what could've happened if jesse's friends kept mistreating nate, I think. it could've kept escalating. and jesse standing up and saying "I'm DONE sitting by" is so important. him choosing to believe the person who was kind to him and not just nice is so, so important.

Do you guys ever think about how Lake and Jesse teach each other how to be kind and how to have an actual genuine friendship. Because I do a lot.

[the-authoress-writes]

Wherever You Go

Prologue

Tom “Iceman” Kazansky x Aviator!reader (Callsign: Thorn)

Moodboard by @bradshawsbaby

Written for @roosterforme’s Top Gun Rocktober Playlist Fic Challenge

Synopsis: Tom Kazansky made a mistake.

Or rather, a series of mistakes.

He chose to take the assignment as an instructor at TOPGUN.

He fell in love with one of his students.

He broke her heart.

He chose to leave TOPGUN, and redeploy.

Now, he was stuck onboard the USS Nimitz with the woman whose heart he broke, with no way out.

Unbelievably, that’s not the problem.

Problem is, he still loves her.

Series Warnings: Teacher/Student relationship (but you already knew that) with no real age gap, warnings will be updated as the series progresses.

Warnings: Here be some cursing, because they are men in the Navy—they will curse.

Other than that, nothing really.

Author’s Note: “It’s only going to be a oneshot.”

Every author knows that those are the famous last words, and that is no truer than with this story.

I really, really thought I could make this into a oneshot but then I gave up on that.

Because I am so in love with this storyline, that it deserves space to breathe.

So this one shot is now going to be at most (hopefully), a six-part series.

*sigh*

Darn it, Val, what have you done to me?

Thank you so, so very much to @roosterforme for hosting the Top Gun Rocktober Fic Challenge, and for allowing me to use one of my favorite 80s rock ballads, “The Flame” by Cheap Trick.

Lyrics from the song will be peppered in throughout this series, because it’s too good not to, and the song is the reason this story exists, as it is what birthed the plotline.

Another thank you goes to the incredible @bradshawsbaby for making the stunning moodboard for this fic, which was beyond my wildest dreams!

Special thanks also to @valmare, the fact that I am writing Tom Kazansky x reader! fic is all your fault; but thank you so much for dragging me down with you, it’s been an absolute joy!

Not much plot happens in this prologue, but I think it’s important to set up the narrative.

Ice cold, no mistakes.

That’s what everyone said about him, and he knew it.

He’d be lying to himself if he said that some part of him didn’t enjoy it, that reputation for perfection.

But now, as Tom watched her doing preflight for her CAP in the shadows of his little nook in the superstructure of the Nimitz, he knew that he was staring at the biggest mistake of his life.

He watched her hands lovingly run across the airframe of her F-14, and he inhaled sharply in remembrance.

He’d only been able to feel her touch him like that once, but it was more than enough to burn it into his memory forever.

As he watched, the large form of her RIO, LTJG Emmett “Romeo” Kinford, came up behind her, slapping her on the shoulder, which elicited a bright smile from her.

It tugged at his heart, to see her smile, even though it wasn’t the same smile she used to smile at him.

What he wouldn’t give to have her smile at him again.

She was the first woman he’d ever really loved, and he knew she’d be the last.

But he’d broken her heart two months ago.

It tore him apart to have to do that, but he had no choice—not if he wanted her to keep her wings, much less her title as Top Gun of TOPGUN Class 1, 1987.

And he knew she belonged in the sky, so he made the bitter choice, and he suffered for it—they both did.

He was still suffering.

It was why he’d chosen to redeploy, even though he loved teaching at TOPGUN, could easily have seen himself doing it for at least another few years, because he couldn’t stand to stay at Miramar, where he had so many memories of her, about her, with her.

He hadn’t missed the half-pitying, half-understanding look Viper had given him as he turned in his transfer papers—the now-Captain had always been intuitive.

“You’re a damn good instructor, Kazansky, we’ll be sad to see you go.”

“I’m sad to go, sir, but I… feel that I need to do this.”

A nod.

“Alright, son.

I’ll turn these in.

You and Kerner should get your new orders in two weeks.”

Within a week, he and Slider were deployed on the Nimitz.

One week after that, VF-1 chopped in, Mav and Merlin included.

“What the hell are you doing here, Mav?” Tom grinned, smiling for what felt like the first time in weeks as he hugged his wingman while Slider did the same for their former Academy classmate.

“I quit teaching.”

“What?!” Tom and Slider exclaimed, while Merlin sighed longsufferingly, shaking his head.

“You loved teaching!” Tom continued.

The dark-haired aviator shrugged. “It was boring without you there—no one else gave me a run for my money.”

“Sounds an awful lot like you’re admitting that I’m the better pilot, Mav.”

“In your dreams,” Mav scoffed. “But again, I will admit it was boring without you there.”

Tom smirked. “Love you too, Mav.”

“Fuck you, Kazansky,” his wingman retorted with a grin.

“No thanks, not in the mood,” Tom deadpanned.

Mav guffawed, making Tom’s deadpan melt into another grin, before the other pilot threw one arm around his shoulder, the other around Merlin’s upper back (as that was as high as it would go without effort, given the RIO’s borderline absurd height of 6’ 5”). “The Layton Boys are back!”

Slider interjected, “Technically, we’re missing Wood and Wolf.”

Mav rolled his eyes, “Okay, most of the Layton Boys are back—better, Ronald?”

Tom sighed, preparing for the bitchfest he knew was coming—he’d learned at Annapolis how much Slider hated his full first name.

(That wasn’t even mentioning the absolute hissyfit that would occur if the middle name was whipped out: Evelyn.)

(It was his great-grandfather’s name.)

“Yeah, Peter,” Slider retorted.

Okay—nothing was going to stop this now, to paraphrase the song—Mav was just as bad; Goose was the only one who could call him “Peter” and get away with it.

An all-too familiar pissy look came over Mav’s face. “Dickhead.”

“Yardstick.”

“Asswipe.”

“Petey Pocket.”

That was new—he and Merlin held their breath to see what would happen next.

Mav stared.

Slider stared right back.

A black-haired blur rushed forward, and Slider took off running, the flight deck now thankfully free of planes, the next CAP not starting preflight for another hour.

“Should we stop them?” Tom asked Merlin, as they watched the other pilot and RIO run across the Nimitz, a faint “Come back here, asshole!” carrying on the sea wind.

“If it’s all the same to you, I say let them go; you don’t know how wound up Mav’s been.”

He chuckled. “Fair enough—Sli could use the exercise.”

Eventually, Slider finally slipped up, and half-tripped on a padeye, allowing the smaller man to tackle him, the chase devolving into a wrestling match, which further devolved into what could only be described as a third grade slap-fight, before it finally ended with both men on their backs, heaving breaths into their lungs.

Tom and Merlin looked at each other, and in unspoken agreement, headed over to their RIO and pilot.

“Missed you too, Shortstack,” he heard Slider mutter, once he and Merlin came close enough.

“Didn’t say anything.”

“I know.”

“You done, you little gremlin?” Merlin asked, a wry expression on his face.

Mav glanced warningly at Slider, who silently raised his hands in surrender. “Yeah, we’re done.”

“Alrighty,” Merlin sighed, offering his pilot a hand up, Tom doing the same for his RIO.

Once both of them were hauled off of the flight deck, the aviators/infants stared at each other once more, and Tom was just about to pinch the bridge of his nose in exasperation, when Slider extended his hand. “Truce?”

Mav considered the extended hand for a beat, before slapping his hand into the other man’s. “Truce.”

Slider grinned, and used their clasped hands to pull the diminutive pilot into a hug. “It’s good to see you, Mav.”

A sigh. “You too, Sli.”

They finally made their way below deck, Mav and Merlin dashing off to report to the Air Boss, before they met again in the Officer’s Mess, the quartet eating dinner leisurely, as none of them had a CAP until tomorrow.

To their surprise, Tom and Slider found out that Mav and Merlin would be sharing their berthing, and Tom couldn’t help but wonder at the Hand of God making such happy coincidences occur (or perhaps the hand of a certain TOPGUN instructor).

The four of them easily settled into the layout they had set up on the Enterprise; who would take which bunk or locker, which segued into the boisterous exchange of stories between them.

In the midst of the familiar camaraderie, Tom could almost forget the ever-present gaping hole in his heart, ignore the pain which always threatened to swallow him whole when he was alone.

But bedtime soon came upon them, which drew the exchange of stories to a close, and had them all lying in their respective bunks, and soon, Merlin’s deep breaths could be heard, indicating the man was asleep.

Mav was, as usual, dead silent, which always made him unsure if his wingman was actually asleep.

And he’d tried to see if there were any auditory tells in the other pilot’s sleep, but there were none.

Maybe eventually, he would figure something out to give away a sleeping Mav, but hopefully, he was asleep.

Slider, however, was pitifully attempting to convey sleep, his deep breaths a little too measured, Tom knowing all too well how the man breathed when he was actually asleep.

Ron, loyal brother that he was, wanted to make sure Tom was asleep before allowing himself to drift off.

So he allowed his breathing to slow, gradually adding the slight rasp in his breath that he knew Slider was listening for.

The last week of being back in a berthing with Slider had been a testament to his acting skills, not having had to hide how he was sleeping (or not, rather) from the other man since the Academy.

Eventually, his RIO succumbed to the siren call of sleep, and Tom settled in for another cold night, in more ways than one.

He blinked up at the ceiling, seconds passing like sand through an hourglass, and though he could feel fatigue pressing in on him, he couldn’t fall asleep, despite all the techniques the Navy had taught him, his restlessness punctuated by the sound of the launch and recovery of two night CAPs.

But eventually, between one blink and the next, Tom woke up to the alarm clock going off.

Realistically, he knew he slept, but it really didn’t feel like it, he felt just as tired and weary as he always did.

He dragged himself out of his bunk, swiftly silencing the clock, as the Slider-shaped mass of blankets began to stir.

“Ugh—I hate mornings,” his RIO moaned.

“Shouldn’t have joined the Navy then, Sli,” Merlin cheerily fired back, feet thudding onto the berthing’s floor from the top bunk.

“Yeah, what the hell were you thinking, Kerner?” Mav grinned, already in the act of making his bunk.

“Why, oh why, God, did I have to be cursed with morning people,” Slider declared, finally throwing off his blanket.

“You love us, Ron,” Tom smirked, unable to help himself, the affectionate snark coming easy to him amidst his brothers, despite his exhaustion.

“Ehh—ask me again after I’ve had a coffee.

Or a dozen.”

The berthing rang with laughter, and as the day progressed, it confirmed to Tom that he’d made the right choice to redeploy, the brotherhood they had, the self-proclaimed “Layton Boys”, being exactly what he needed to nurse his broken heart.

Their CAP was uneventful, being flown with Mav and Merlin, the guard frequency filled with their light-hearted teasing and conversation, and they had to be the cheeriest four men on deployment in the Navy’s history.

But inevitably, another night slowly closed in, leaving Tom alone with his thoughts, his loneliness and pain threatening to overwhelm him as usual, and all the façades in the world couldn’t do a damn thing against thoughts and feelings from your own mind and soul.

The call was, as they said, coming from inside the house.

He felt like he was going crazy; he was losing sleep, he knew he was in too far, in way too deep over her, and he wasn’t sure when he would ever stop feeling like the world had fallen out from under him.

As he fought the urge to toss and sigh for the umpteenth time, he heard a soft “Can’t sleep?” from across the berthing.

Tom fought the urge to sit bolt upright, which was a good thing, as it kept him from banging his head on the top of his bunk.

When he caught his breath and calmed his heart some, he whispered, “Mav?”

“That’s me.”

“What are you doing up?” Tom hissed.

“Pot, kettle.”

“I—sometimes people can’t sleep, Mav.”

“Bullshit.

You couldn’t sleep last night either.”

“How do you know that?”

Mav kept silent.

“I knew you had to be awake,” Tom scoffed.

“Yeah, well.”

Here, Merlin stirred, turning in the bunk above Mav, which caused Slider to also stir and the two pilots held their breath, waiting for their respective RIOs to still.

When they did, Mav crept out of his bunk, grabbing something out from under his mattress, before leaning over Tom. “Come on—if we’re going to be awake, might as well be awake together.”

Tom sighed, nodding.

Maybe if he got up, he’d have some hope of feeling sleepy, and he’d be able to get some sleep.

Mav led him to the unoccupied half of the berthing, on the other side of the lockers, and plopped himself down on the floor between the empty bunks.

Tom took that as invitation to sit next to his wingman, and he leaned his head against the mattress behind him.

A soft noise which he belatedly recognized as the sound of a zip bag opening had him looking down.

Despite the darkness, his eyes had long since adjusted enough to see Mav holding out what appeared to be a cookie of some sort—chocolate chip, if his nose didn’t deceive him.

“Carole made these fresh before I shipped out.

Have some.”

“Thanks, Mav.”

“No problem,” the other pilot murmured, mouth already full.

Tom bit into the cookie, just the right amount of chewy and sweet, with the perfect amount of chocolate chips.

He must’ve made some sort of sound, because Mav chuckled. “Good, huh?”

“Don’t interrupt me, I’m enjoying my cookie.”

“I keep telling Care she can sell these suckers—heaven in a cookie, am I right?”

“Mmm.”

For the next few minutes, neither said anything, and no noise was heard save the sound of plastic rustling, cookies being eaten, and the distant sounds indicating deep sleep from their RIOs.

But then.

“You’re thinking about her, aren’t you?

That’s why you can’t sleep.”

Missile lock—tone.

Sigh.

“How’d you know?”

“Doesn’t take a genius, Ice, even if I am one.”

Tom scoffed, lightly bumping Mav’s shoulder, even though he knew his wingman wasn’t being hyperbolic—the younger pilot had a Master’s in Aerospace Engineering.

Mav good-naturedly took the bump, bumping right back.

When they had settled again, Tom whispered, “Can you blame me?”

“No, I don’t.

But you had no choice, Ice, Jester made that clear.

You were between the proverbial rock and hard place.”

“I loved her, Mav—I still love her.

And she loved me too.

And I broke her heart.

I can’t just… forget that,” he frustratedly said, running a hand through his hair.

“I’m not asking you to,” came the even reply. “All I’m asking is that you admit it.

It’s not good for you to keep this all in, you know?

Isn’t that what you told me before?”

“Yeah, it is,” Tom sighed—he felt like he’d been doing a lot of that lately.

“Have you told Sli?”

“Kind of,” he muttered.

Mav hissed, “What does ‘Kind of’ mean?”

“He… he knows that I was in a relationship that ended badly while I was at Miramar, but he doesn’t know that—” despite the fact that the two of them were the only ones awake in the berthing, he whispered, “that she was my student.”

Tom didn’t know it was possible to hear a shocked expression. “Way to bury the lede, Ice.”

“Tell me something I don’t know.

I just—I didn’t want to talk about it.”

“So you stonewalled your RIO?”Disbelief dripped from the sentence.

“I…” Tom vaguely gestured, “gently led him around the full truth.”

“You fucking Obi-Wan Kenobi-ed him.”

He sent the other man a glare even if he wasn’t sure Mav could see it. “You’re the worst therapist ever, you know that?”

“I’m a naval aviator and an engineer, Ice, forgive the slight fumbling.”

“‘Slight’?” Tom scoffed humorously, and in the darkness, he could see an ebony-haired head shake.

There was a joke that a more uncharitable person could have made about engineering in regards to him, but he and Mav were long past that, and he was grateful, something he never would have said before.

“You should tell him, you should have someone other than me who understands, who knows what you went through, Ice.”

Tom could see the point.

And it would feel better, he had to admit, even if it would trigger Slider’s mother hen instincts to the max, even more than they were right now.

“I’ll think about it.

And don’t think I forgot that you were just as sleepless as I was.”

“This about you, not me.”

“Uh-huh, sure—for now, you little shit.

Now hand over another cookie, will you, Mav?”

“The things I do for you.”

The plastic rustled again, and a cookie was placed in his hand.

And as he ate Carole’s heavenly consolation in a cookie, Tom reflected on just how he’d ended up in this position.

To be continued…

Next Part

CAP: Combat Air Patrol

Women were not allowed to participate in combat units and fly combat missions until 1993, so a healthy suspension of disbelief is required to read this story, 😂…

The USS Nimitz (CVN-68) is the lead ship of her namesake class; commissioned in May 1975, she is the oldest US Navy aircraft carrier in service, and the oldest serving aircraft carrier in the world.

If you look at the nametags they’re all wearing in TG86, the second row says “TOPGUN 1”, so I’m assuming that there’s more than one TOPGUN session a year, at least in the TG/TG:M universe.

VF-1, a now inactive squadron based out of NAS Miramar, is the squadron that Mav and Goose belonged to before they went to TOPGUN, although it must be noted that, like most of the squadron patch designs in Top Gun, the patch design as seen on Mav and Goose’s flight suits, is incorrect and not matching the squadron designation.

I am assuming, though I have no confirmation, that Merlin was also part of Tom and Slider’s USNA class.

The “Petey Pocket” insult is a reference to the toy Polly Pocket, which is a toy from the late 80s, notable for its tiny size, which is being sold again by Mattel.

However, the toys did not come out until 1989, and they did not come out until much later than that in the States, and despite my best efforts to find a more period-accurate insult/comparison, the insult was too good not to put, so again, healthy suspension of disbelief.

“Nothing’s Gonna Stop Us Now” by Starship, from the 1987 film Mannequin, is the song Tom references.

A padeye is used to secure aircraft to the flight deck.

Taglist

@valmare

@callsign-skydancer

@permanentlyexhaustedpigeon88

@tadomikiku

@malindacath

If you’d like to join my taglist, just send me an ask!

[abarbaricyalp]

Written for the @sambuckylibrary summer bingo prompt: Beach Day! Had to get one more in under the deadline.

Rated T, gets a little suggestive at the end

Okay so ages ago @katatonicimpression posted about Sam getting a Captain America 'suit' from Namor that was actually a speedo and well... (Funnily enough, I had not seen the original tags on the post until I was done with this story. I agree: Bucky would be fuming)

Namor's characterization in this kind of melds the MCU with the comics, since we didn't really get to see a lighter side of him in BP:WF. ("Or you could just wear a suit" joke line, my beloved)

(Sea) Star Spangled

Bucky had brought this upon himself.

He didn't usually like to take responsibility for things that had even a slightly contested origin. He thought he'd had plenty of shit laid at this feet egregiously, so, no Sam, it was not his fault there was only a swallow of milk left in the jug in the fridge.

But this one... This was his fault.

("You're welcome, self," he also thought.)

Here's the thing. He knew Shuri had told him about another actor, another nation, another hero who dealt with Vibranium. But, to be fair to himself, things had been pretty hectic for the both of them at the time and she'd said this guy lived under the ocean, so he really wasn't Bucky's priority. And, in this brave new world of "supervillain" teammups and consequent subterfuge, Bucky hadn't thought about the fish guy, merman, aquaman person since that brief mention.

By the time mermaid Barbie did catch up to him, Bucky had been at this game long enough to be practically working for Shuri instead of de Fontaine. She and he had worked out a nearly flawless repertoire of information sharing without getting caught and Bucky was pretty sure his new bosses were none the wiser. It had been Shuri who'd told him about an odd deposit of vibranium in the shallows and sandbars of a remote beach island.

Bucky had been investigating that lead when he met the submariner for the first time.

So, hey, maybe he could actually blame this all on Shuri.

It had been harder to convince Namor that he was a friend, not a foe. The alliance between the Atlantean and Shuri was evidently not as steadfast as Shuri had led Bucky to believe those weeks ago. Namor was intense and smarter than most people Bucky had been dealing with recently. (Shuri obviously excluded) He nettled and prodded at Bucky and his story for hours. Sharks literally started to circle at one point and Bucky had to let the Atlantean know that his threat was received perfectly clearly.

When all was said and done, when Namor was reluctantly on board with the plan though not any happier about it, when Bucky's research vessel was so thoroughly destroyed he didn't even bother trying to fish pieces out of the water, Namor took him to shore and asked who should be contacted.

Bucky had said the first name that came to mind.

Hours later, when the sun had scorched Bucky's chest, shoulders, and face, Sam appeared on a boat. Because of course he knew how to drive a boat. Bucky knew that and yet his heart still tripped over itself in his chest to see him looking like some dashing privateer. A privateer in board shorts at any rate.

Sam read people better than Bucky did. Bucky was great at threat assessment, but that was usually as far as his skills went. (Barring his ability to get free sweet tea from his favorite waitress) Sam knew how to work any angle on any person. He knew to show up dressed down instead of in his full Cap gear. He knew to cut the engine well before the rudders could damage the shoreline kelp life. He knew to approach Bucky and Namor with a somber but not cowed cadence to his steps.

Steve told a story constantly about the first time Sam met T'Challa. About his nigh on irreverence and familiarity. Bucky could see him assessing now if that kind of banter would work. In the end, he went for the safer route, turning his attention to Bucky and narrowing his eyes. "What did you do?" he asked.

Bucky wouldn't say Sam and Namor got on easily. Namor was not as quickly swayed by Sam's pervasive charm and ready smile and moral dignity. But the half-snarl curl of his lip had disappeared and the tension in his shoulders ebbed the longer he and Sam talked. Sam was good at this, winning people over long enough to rectify a situation and get back out of it.

And he did get Bucky out of it. Bucky got an earful on the ride back to some place with a plane, but it was worth it once he got into the cabin and out of the sun.

The next time it happened, Sam showed up in his Captain America uniform, and Bucky felt vaguely betrayed that Sam had been doing real Captain America things without him. The conversation between Namor and Sam flowed more easily as Bucky's shoulders continued to sunburn.

The THIRD time was not Bucky's fault. In fact, Bucky found Sam and Namor already in the midst of a fight that they had started in the shallows off an uninhabited island. Surprisingly, Bucky's new bosses weren't involved, so Bucky had no idea what was going on, but people were throwing spears at Sam and that was unacceptable.

The fight didn't last much longer after Bucky joined. Sam and Namor had had it mostly under control before he showed up, so the extra brute force only helped. The combatants disappeared into the water exactly like the sea monsters of his childhood stories.

"What are you doing here?" Bucky asked Sam so he didn't have to think about what else lurked in the water. He did follow Sam out of the shallows quickly though.

"Your friend picked up your bad habits," Sam answered in a half-teasing, half-stressed kind of way. He wiped his face free of salt water.

Namor scowled at him. Bucky wondered if his own scowls were that unconvincing. It was kind of impossible to actually get angry at Sam. "He is not my friend and I did not call you for help. You stopped yourself."

Sam shrugged. "You looked like you were losing."

"I do not lose!" Namor insisted again.

"Well, hey, next time you aren't losing and don't need help, you know how to reach me," Sam said with a grin. And then, to Bucky, he added, "We share seagulls!" A phrase Bucky completely did not understand.

The next time Namor showed up, Bucky hadn't even bothered him. He and Sam had detoured away from their return home from a mission because they were flying over Nassau and neither of them were passing up the opportunity for a beach vacation. The first two days had been flawless. But that night, tangled together on a high sandbar during low tide, a sudden wave, tall enough and dense enough to blot out the moonlight, crashed over them and left fish and kelp and so much salt water in its wake. It practically flooded the sandbar out and left bits and pieces of their uniforms floating in the water.

"I can see you!" Namor called from somewhere far away, or maybe right under the water. Bucky could never tell. "Go elsewhere!"

And yet. AND YET. They were here now.

Maybe he could actually blame Namor. Thinking about it again, he could definitely blame Namor. Bucky had only accidentally introduced him and Sam. Namor had done this.

"It looks pretty good right?" Sam laughed, smoothing a hand down his perfect body that Bucky should really be napping against right now instead of suffering in the middle of the ocean. How was he actually glistening? He wasn't even wet. What was this golden glow? There was cloud coverage.

It was about the only coverage on this boat.

For an ocean where a battle had just raged with too many combatants and interests at play for Bucky to keep straight, the sea was calm, the sun warm, the bird call familiar. It could almost be any other day on the boat. Except for the blood growing tacky in Bucky's hair and the bruise sprawling down Sam's shoulder and back. He needed to get an ice pack on it.

Actually, he needed to put a shirt over it.

"It is made of the same fibers as all of our warriors' clothing," Namor explained about the "outfit" Sam had quickly changed into. "Yours and mine are the same." And he looked entirely too smug as his gaze flicked to Bucky momentarily.

Despite joking about it, Bucky knew Namor didn't actually wear a speedo. It was shorts and he had fantastic thighs that would make any clothing look smaller. Those shorts--battle garments, his ass--were even smaller on Sam. They were practically molded to his ass. There was almost nothing down the back of his thighs. They were fighting for their life to cover his ass and stay around his hips at the same time. They were a dark navy with subtle, darker striping around one leg, not that anyone could tell because they were so damn short.

"If you're going to spend so much time on the water, you should be equipped to do so. No, Barnes?" Namor looked at him again and was definitely smirking. Suddenly Bucky preferred the scowl.

"Sam flies," he ground out.

"Yes. He's very impressive," Namor agreed. "And then he rescues you from the water all of the time."

Bucky ground his teeth together even harder.

"I know you have many suits for many different reasons. I just wanted to offer a gift of my own," Namor continued. "Talokan is grateful for your help and friendship." He reached out and clasped their forearms together.

Bucky seethed.

This was not a suit. This was obscene. There was a star right over the crotch, for God's sake. (Okay, slightly left of the crotch, whatever) Namor didn't even buy into nationalism. He hated it. It had been a huge point of contention until Sam had explained to him his own struggles with representing a country or ideal that outright rejected him over and over. If anything, this should just be navy. Plain. And longer, dammit. Bucky's brain was going to overheat. He needed to look away from that damn star.

"I appreciate it, K'uk'ulan," Sam said earnestly, like he wasn't standing around looking like a soft core poster. He bowed his head a little and held a hand over his heart. God, Bucky wanted to eat him.

Then Sam kicked his ankle and Bucky turned his irritation towards him. It wasn't enough to make him want to eat Sam any less, but it eased some of the burning need in his chest. Sam subtly tried to nod towards Namor, eyes wide and imploring.

With a sigh that gathered up all of Bucky's willpower, he turned to Namor and tried to ease the scowl on his face. "We will always help Talokan and the Talokanil," he said, and surprised himself with the honesty in his voice. He did really like Namor's home and his people. What of it he had come to see and understand. "I would rather help them than whichever evil bastards are trying to pull the reins up here."

The flash of gratitude over Namor's face was only that--a flash, but Bucky saw it and he tucked that information away. But it was too quickly replaced by a grin. "Then you agree. It is good that the captain now has appropriate dress."

The scowl got deeper by three fold and Namor's grin only turned more gleeful. And, oh. Namor hadn't put Sam in a speedo to leer at him himself. He'd done it to tease Bucky. The asshole.

"We should get Bucky one," Sam joked.

Bucky and Namor pulled twin grimaces, which made, Sam laugh and laugh.

"We need to head out," Bucky said to Sam. "We'll have a better chance of holding off alphabet agencies and suits if we're not right on top of the fight.

Sam frowned, tipped his face up to the sunlight because he was genuinely some kind of sun god and needed the replenishment as far as Bucky was concerned, and then sighed. "You're right," he agreed. "One day, we'll have to meet under better circumstances," he said to Namor. He offered his hand out to the not-merman and they did that gladiator hold thing again. Namor clapped a hand on Sam's uninjured shoulder.

"Yes, I agree. Alas, we both have people to protect and our enemies are becoming bolder. It doesn't leave much time for socializing."

Sam nodded his understanding and then hoisted his wing pack onto his back. He should really put on a shirt before using it, Bucky thought. And pants. "Come on, grumpycakes," he said to Bucky and offered out the harness they had developed together for exactly these kind of low stakes, short hops.

Sam gave Namor a lazy kind of salute and Bucky managed a cordial nod. Namor only offered another smirk and even a thumbs up. He was truly nothing like Bucky had anticipated.

Sam dropped them on the far side of the nearest island. They would have to await extraction--maybe island hop a few more miles away--but there was no rush. They hadn't called for help yet.

Bucky considered the fine white sand of the beach. It was soft and warm, verging on hot. He could lay Sam out right here and get those shorts off. But he remembered trying to untangle kelp from his hair, and discarded the thought. Instead, he walked Sam back into the tropical foliage several meters away and then sank to his knees without a word.

Sam's fingers fell to his hair, head dropping back to the tree behind him. Which was a shame because Bucky liked Sam's eyes on him. Liked to be able to look up and catch his gaze, see exactly what Bucky was doing to him based on the sparkle in his eye.

"Yeah," Sam agreed to their silent understanding in a breathy sigh. "We definitely have to get you some of these shorts too."

[bluesdesk]

People. 50.6% of 87 votes are exactly 44 votes. And 49.4% is 43 votes. Tears of the Kingdom lost to Alttp for ONE VOTE

Anyway, I decided to yeet both off the poll! Let the 9th round begin! There are 8 games left, and these are really the best. I still have one game I want to vote but then the choice will be harder!

As I've written many things about totk but I don't want to give unwanted spoilers, this time the rankings are here and my opinions on the games are under the cut!

<< Previous round

The CDIs

Triforce Heroes

Zelda 2

Hyrule Warriors / Legends / Definitive

Cadence of Hyrule

Zelda 1

Four Swords Adventures

Four Swords

Oracle of Seasons/Ages

Age of Calamity

Phantom Hourglass

Link's awakening/LANS

Spirit Tracks

Tears of the Kingdom

A link to the Past

Soo! TotK and AlttP. I played AlttP shortly after BotW on nso, when TotK still wasn't out. I liked it a lot at first, but I have to say I didn't complete it. It was technologically advanced for that time for sure, but I don't think it aged well. The dungeons didn't leave me anything valuable to remember, like other games did, the items weren't equipped easily and the story was too simple and banal.

As for TotK. Oh TotK. I got to play botw another bit before returning it (I had borrowed it from a friend), after quitting alttp. And I still liked it! Then I bought TotK and at the beginning I was extremely surprised, it looked so great. I thought Rauru was the same first sage from OoT and he had a "goat disguise" to not be recognized, like his owl form. Of course I was wrong and then I was so disappointed, i left it almost one year ago and don't have any urge to play it again, I probably will though and give it another chance because something was really good like seeing grown up characters or finding those "Zeldas" or building things or finding amiibo costumes. - the story is great for a standalone game, but for zelda? The zonai make no sense to me and contradicted everything we knew. In the past right after sksw the gerudo weren't known, the zora and rito didn't exist, the gorons weren't on death mountain. They should have made another antagonist and not Ganondorf. Zelda's sacrifice was honestly a so great part, but the ending was awful. - the "dungeons" were copies of each other. And short and banal as heck, and the dialogues after each one were always the same. - People didn't remember Link. Only some of the major characters did but the majority of the npcs didn't know him. And Link didn't have the majority of his clothes. I know the outfits weren't mandatory to get in botw (nothing was mandatory tho) but at least the most known could have been left. The gerudo outfit, the climber set, the hylian set, the luminous stone set! They made up a story for the zora tunic and that's a good thing. - The depths were empty and too dark, even after the light roots were lighted. It was too easy to get lost. - the ultrahand and fuse mechanics are amazing as well as the ascend, but they should have made them mandatory at least for some parts of the game, to give them more spotlight. - I would have loved to have way more sksw references, this isn't a flaw of course but a personal preference! Also I would have loved to have Wolf Link as an ally again, instead of the spirits of the sages. - personal experience: the game crashed after I defeated Ganondorf for the last time. I was about to see the final cutscene when the screen went black and it never played (I saw it on youtube). Everything else on the swotch worked perfectly so it was just the game. Of course it doesn't autosave or let people save the game after entering the zone before the first fight with Ganondorf so I'm back there. I hated it.

[watchmenanon]

THE ‘STRANGER THINGS’ BOYS ARE OUR ‘NYLON GUYS’ SEPTEMBER 2017 COVER STARS

If anyone understands the sudden shift from “not fitting in” to “one-million-plus followers,” it’s these guys.

The following feature appears in the September 2017 issue of NYLON Guys.

Finn Wolfhard just couldn’t resist. Despite needing to be camera-ready for his NYLON photo shoot, the 14-year-old star of Stranger Things decided to suck on a blue Warhead anyway, and now he’s paying the price. “All these sets have candy on them, and I can’t help myself. It was a mistake,” he admits, sheepishly trying to scrub the cerulean stain from his tongue with a miniature toothbrush. To his right, Gaten Matarazzo wears a gray T-shirt that reads, uh oh! did my sarcasm hurt your feelings?, a slogan worthy of Dustin Henderson, the lovable wisecracker he plays opposite Wolfhard on the hit Netflix show. Matarazzo, also 14, is getting his trademark tangle of curls straightened, much to the delight of Noah Schnapp, who, at 12, is the youngest in this group of breakout stars that has helped make Stranger Things the most obsessed-over show in Netflix’s boundless roster of original series. Missing is Caleb McLaughlin, the energetic 15-year-old who plays Lucas Sinclair, but he’s on his way over in a black car, having just arrived from Los Angeles, fresh off an appearance at the BET Awards.

It’s the first time the boys have been together in several weeks, and none of them can pinpoint exactly when they were last in the same room. Ever since Stranger Things became a cultural phenomenon last summer, they’ve been swept up in a whirlwind of red carpets, talk shows, and fan conventions. And as the premiere of the sci-fi and horror fantasia’s top-secret second season nears, this summer has been overtaken by a flurry of promotional duties. Next week, while most kids their age are cooling off in pools or testing out the latest in roller coaster technology, Matarazzo and McLaughlin will be at Denver Comic Con, signing autographs and posing for selfies with wide-eyed fans. A few weeks after that, all four will find themselves inside the hallowed Hall H at San Diego Comic-Con, where they’ll premiere the thrilling trailer for Season 2 to rapturous applause.

But on this day, even though they’re technically at work, the boys still find time to goof off. They are, after all, best friends—like brothers, even, they say—and there’s a lot of catching up to do, memes to be shared, and jokes to be cracked. “We used to call Noah ���Señor Biebs,’” Matarazzo offers at one point, due to Schnapp’s Season 1 bowl cut and its resemblance to the former haircut of a certain Canadian pop star. “He hates it!” he says, just before he sticks his finger into Schnapp’s ear (playfully, of course).

Inside the bright and breezy photo studio on Manhattan’s West Side, publicists abound, but because these budding stars are still minors, there are also parents. It’s an unusual sight, and a reminder that despite having very grown-up jobs, they’re still not old enough to drive. Wolfhard, the Vancouver native who plays Mike Wheeler, is here with his father, as is Matarazzo, who hails from Little Egg Harbor Township, New Jersey. Schnapp and his parents came in from Westchester County, north of the city. When McLaughlin, who grew up in Carmel, New York, finally arrives lugging a suitcase that’s almost as big as he is, he’s accompanied by his father, a burly man in an Atlanta Braves cap who goes around the room with his son hugging the other parents, a reminder of how tight the makeshift family has become since this odyssey began more than two years ago.

Stranger Things premiered as an underdog. Its creators, the twin brothers Matt and Ross Duffer, were unproven talents who had previously written for the Fox sci-fi series Wayward Pines. Except for Winona Ryder’s comeback as a grieving mother searching for her missing son, the cast was composed largely of unknowns and newcomers. But thanks to its double dose of supernatural intrigue and a nostalgic ’80s-tinged glow, along with a miraculous performance by a young British actress with a shaved head, Stranger Things quickly commandeered the pop-culture conversation in a way that few shows have done. In July, the show received a staggering 18 Emmy nominations, including Outstanding Drama Series.

Created by the Duffers in the spirit of the Amblin-era entertainments they were raised on, the eight-episode first season is set in 1983 in Hawkins, Indiana, and unravels the mystery surrounding the disappearance of Will Byers, played by Schnapp, who vanishes in the first episode after an encounter with the show’s resident boogeyman, the otherworldly creature known as the Demogorgon. As Will’s three misfit best friends—Mike, Lucas, and Dustin—embark on a quest to find him, they uncover an alternate dimension they dub The Upside Down, and a sinister government conspiracy that may be responsible for opening it. They also befriend Eleven, the feral girl with telekinetic powers embodied iconically by 13-year-old Millie Bobby Brown.

Stranger Things began filming its second season under very different circumstances than the first. What once felt like a scrappy production free of scrutiny from outside sources suddenly had the mood and atmosphere of a major Hollywood blockbuster. “Netflix knew it would be a good show,” McLaughlin says, “but they didn’t realize how big it would be and that the whole world was going to freak out about it.” Because of that intense interest from both the network and the public, the set suddenly had a noticeable security presence shielding it from nosy onlookers and paparazzi, while network executives showed up to make sure their prized racehorse was galloping along. Suddenly, there were expectations. “We raised the bar pretty high with the first season,” says Matarazzo. “There was a lot more tension on set, in that we really needed to make sure it was good.”

When Season 2 premieres on October 27, a year will have passed since Eleven sacrificed herself to defeat the faceless Demogorgon and save the boys, in the Season 1 finale. Trying to squeeze spoilers out of Wolfhard, McLaughlin, Schnapp, and Matarazzo is useless. Extensive media training, including detailed notes on what they can and can’t discuss, have transformed them into a rare breed: teenagers who can keep a secret. What they can say: Season 2 is bigger, darker, and scarier. There’s also a new character in town, played by Sadie Sink. (According to the Duffers, Millie Bobby Brown was “relieved” to have another girl on set.) “She’s a skater, sort of a punk girl, and she slowly becomes part of the group,” says Wolfhard, who also says his character will be depressed and “a loner” in the wake of Eleven’s disappearance. What they can’t say: pretty much everything else. But it’s not just scoop-hungry journalists who harass them for info. “Whenever you get recognized by fans, most of the time they ask you if you’ve got any spoilers for Season 2, and I’m like, ‘No, none, not at all,’” says Matarazzo. “It’s definitely kind of stressful.”

One of the biggest changes for the new season is the expansion of Schnapp’s screen time. Because his character spends much of the first season trapped in an alternate dimension, Schnapp spent a good deal of time at home in New York while everyone else filmed in Atlanta. “Last year I would drive up to the studio and everyone would be like, ‘Hey, Noah, we’ve missed you! How’ve you been?’” says Schnapp. “This year was a lot easier because last year, I’d have to go in and out of school, and that was hard. This year I could focus.”

Although he’s rescued from The Upside Down, we last saw Schnapp removing a slithery creature from his mouth, a telltale sign that not all is well with Will Byers. For Schnapp, whose character mostly communicated through Christmas lights in Season 1, the new episodes meant new challenges as an actor. “Shawn Levy, one of our directors, was telling me, ‘Noah, you have something really big this season. We have a lot in store for you, and you should get really excited,’” he says. Schnapp felt the added pressure, and would sometimes text his TV mom, Ryder, for extra help with particularly emotional scenes. “We knew we needed a strong actor in case the series moved forward into a second season, because we knew he was going to be a centerpiece,” says Matt Duffer. “We needed not just a good actor, but a really, really good actor.” Schnapp rose to the occasion, according to the Duffers. “Shawn [Levy] was like, ‘We’ve had a Ferrari sitting in the garage all of Season 1, and now the fucking garage doors are open.��”

The Duffers knew that casting child actors, who have a tendency to favor exaggerated performances over naturalistic ones, would make or break their show. “There’s really nothing worse than a bad child performance,” Ross Duffer says. “You couldn’t have any weaknesses, or the eight hours would be excruciating.” Along with their casting director, the Duffers saw what they estimate to be 900 kids, an undertaking they say was easier than it sounds because they could tell within the first few minutes if the actor had what they needed. “You’re looking for something authentic, and most kids don’t have it,” says Ross. “There are the ones that are obviously well-trained, but they feel too Disney, like they’re winking at the camera.” What the Duffers found with their four young male stars were kids who seemed like actual kids.

Matarazzo was the first one cast, his audition so impressive that he found out he got the part on the way back from the airport. “We didn’t really even know who the Dustin character was until we found Gaten,” says Matt Duffer. “He was sort of a generic nerd with glasses. He was a stereotype.” Matarazzo, whose sense of humor inspired the Duffers to transform Dustin into the show’s primary source of comic relief, has grown up with a condition known as cleidocranial dysplasia, which stunts the development of bones and teeth. “We wanted to make a show about outsiders, about kids who didn’t fit in and who were bullied and made fun of,” says Matt. “Gaten was really able to tap into all of that.”

McLaughlin and Matarazzo had known each other from their days as stars in two of Broadway’s biggest shows. Matarazzo portrayed Gavroche in Les Misérables, and McLaughlin played Simba in The Lion King. They’d often see each other in a park frequented by “Broadway kids,” as Matarazzo calls them. “When I found out Caleb had gotten Lucas I was like, ‘Caleb? Where do I know that name from?’” he recalls. Wolfhard and Schnapp established an early connection, too—sort of. “He doesn’t remember me, but I remember him,” Wolfhard says. “Because I asked him what other projects he had done, and he said, ‘I was the voice of Charlie Brown in The Peanuts Movie.’ I was like, ‘What?! You’re Charlie Brown?’ I was so pysched about that.”

Although they had all crossed paths during the audition process, usually around the hotel pool or at chemistry reads, it wasn’t until they arrived in Atlanta to begin production that all four boys, along with Millie Bobby Brown, found themselves together in the same room for the first time. If there was a first-day-of-school feel, it made sense: They met in a classroom, which is where the young cast of Stranger Things still spend most of their time when they’re not filming. That grueling schedule means the only opportunities they get to really mess around are between takes, and sometimes during them. “We have laughing problems,” says McLaughlin. Matt Duffer elaborates: “We definitely have an issue, where we can’t get through a take without someone busting up. They’re always making each other crack up—the number of takes ruined by laughter is in the hundreds.”

Schnapp was at summer camp when Stranger Things dropped on Netflix. He wasn’t allowed to have his phone, but shortly after the series premiered, one of his counselors happened to check his Instagram account—80,000 followers. The next day it was 85,000. “I was like, ‘Wait, what’s going on?’ I think I was at one follower before that,” Schnapp says. Wolfhard also remembers that odd rush of watching his followers skyrocket and realizing his life was changing right in front of his eyes. McLaughlin felt his anonymity evaporate the first time he was recognized. “In L.A., this kid came up to me and was like, ‘Hey, are you Caleb Reginald McLaughlin?’” he says. “And I’m like, ‘What? You know my middle name? That’s nuts.’” 

The connection between the boys is strengthened by the surreal turn their lives have taken, circumstances that most kids their age can’t relate to. When Matarazzo, McLaughlin, and Wolfhard met Barack Obama last October, as guests of the White House’s South by South Lawn festival, the former president, who’s a fan of the show, told them he especially enjoyed their on-screen camaraderie. That bond exists offscreen, too, and has only gotten stronger with every award show and panel. “They really are my best friends,” Matarazzo says. “We can relate to each other a lot more than other people can. People try to understand everything that goes on, but they can’t unless they’ve been there.”

“I don’t think any of the kids would say that our friendship is similar to the friendships they have back home, because it’s not,” says Wolfhard. “No kid has ever really had an experience that I’m experiencing right now—it’s a unique sort of friendship.”

Wolfhard is careful not to bring his work home with him. “If you go home and all you talk about is acting, then you’re a douchebag,” he says. “Your friends don’t want to hear about your professional life, they just want to mess around.” Plus, when you’re 14 years old, talking about work is never cool, even if it involves facing off against a faceless interdimensional demon. The boys are also learning that with a great number of Instagram followers comes great responsibility. “We have to be more cautious with what we say on social media and in public,” says McLaughlin, who was shocked to lose followers after he openly rooted for the Golden State Warriors during the NBA playoffs.

While Netflix has yet to make an official announcement, a third season of Stranger Things is a given, meaning the boys are all but guaranteed to live out their teenage years on one of the most popular shows on television. The Duffers, then, will have to follow in the footsteps of long-running properties like Game of Thrones and the Harry Potter franchise in making sure their child actors don’t grow up faster than their characters. “It’s terrifying,” Matt Duffer says. “I shouldn’t even be highlighting this, but if you watch Season 2, they’ve grown from Episode 1 to Episode 9. I’m terrified one of them is going to have a major growth spurt basically in the middle of shooting. But as long as they’re growing outside of the course of our shooting, I’m not too worried about it, because we just have to build it into our story. As much as you would like to keep some of it more continuous, every time we take a break between seasons, we have to make a year time jump at least.”

All four actors say that they want to remain in show business into adulthood. Wolfhard, who obsessively studies the filmmaking process while on set—he’ll star in the remake of Stephen King’s It, in theaters this month—is eyeing a multihyphenate career as a director, actor, and musician. Back at the photo shoot, Matarazzo and Schnapp gather around his iPhone to watch a video Wolfhard co-directed for a friend’s band, Spendtime Palace. Earlier this year, McLaughlin, who is a trained dancer, played a young Ricky Bell on the BET miniseries The New Edition Story, an experience he describes as “historic.” Matarazzo wants to continue acting, but not forever, and is keeping an open mind about other aspects of the industry. Schnapp, who took his first acting class at the age of six, describes winning the Screen Actors Guild Award for Outstanding Performance by an Ensemble in a Drama Series as one of the greatest moments of his life, and is doing exactly what he wants. (The boys, who describe the awards as “very heavy,” keep them in their bedrooms, except for Matarazzo, who has been meaning to retrieve his from his grandparents’ house. )

“They all love what they’re doing,” says Matt Duffer. “They love coming to set, they love working, they love acting. In terms of the fame thing, it’s a side effect that I think some of them are more into than others. You’re worried about, ‘What if they realize this isn’t their true passion?’ They’re so young. But this year those fears went away. They’re all very committed to this. That’s the important thing, that they enjoy what they’re doing. And that they’re passionate about it.”

[thisisyourprincipalspeaking]

You know the whole being single for too long and not married talk falls back on Chris and his team if that was the push for this weirdness. They literally used him wanting to be a family man as PR during Marvels days. Like its been said numerous times they made his personal life part of his PR image which is probably the biggest mistake. It doesn't make sense. If him and his team thought he needed a certain image to get good roles then they're dumb and not good at their jobs. How many A-list men have been dating around or single but gotten serious good movies. The biggest example being Leo, the man has never been married, never dates women his own age, has had numerous girlfriends over the years yet he literally gets the best roles, works with the biggest directors, and is a box office success. It's because he didn't rely on his personal life and nor did he care about what the media says about him, and he never talks about his personal life even if everyone around him is, There's always articles written about his age gap relationships and he gets comments from the public but he hasnt changed to look wholesome or like a family man.

Other than a few media publications no one gave a shit about Chris being single for too long or dating around. That was something him and his team brought attention to with saying things like he wants a wife and kids, a wife to take care of, wants to carve pumpkins, etc. Yes celebrities do use their personal life as PR but they also have other things to offer in terms of PR. For Chris it was calling out Trump and the good guy/family man image thats pretty much it, and both backfired on him because they took it over the top to the point he couldn't live up to it because thats truly not, 100% who he is. Sure he could have those interests and qualities but he also loved to party taking his past partying proof into account, going out, getting high, being a bro, loves sports, Marvel PR made him into the wholesome, being a homebody, dog lovin guy. Before Marvel and even in the early years of Marvel he went out a lot and partied a lot. I think that is one of the reasons why he moved back to MA, because he could get away with a lot of things there that would otherwise be all over entertainment news in LA.

This whole RL cap and family guy image was going to be hard on anyone since not many people are actually like that. In his own words his first time voting was in 2016, so he isn't someone who had vast experience or understanding in politics but because of Trump. He called out Trump, people started associating him with real life cap and making him trend, him and his team used that to their advantage but then he goes on associating with racists, pulls back from actively calling out more politicians as if they weren't anymore trump like leaders left and people don't care anymore about his website or his thoughts.

If him and his team based all these recent actions on wanting a career change and better offers then theyre furthering the mistake they made years ago. Theyre still using his personal life as PR instead of just having him prefect his craft and go out for better roles. I can guarantee you audiences don't give a crap about an actor's personal life unless it's something major like racism, sexual assault, things in that nature. Most people arent wasting over $30 on a trip to the movies because of an actors personal relationship status. no production company/house or directors do not care about an actor's personal life otherwise many actors wouldn't have jobs of that were the case.

you make some good points but i think many times we forget that these types of stunts, whether they be based in a celeb's real-life situation or entirely fabricated just like a film role, are not necessarily constructed for advancing the image a celeb has with his/her fans. even their public image to the gp isn't a big concern in my opinion. these things (i think) are drummed up to increase analytics and to appeal to film executives.

[bluestar22x]

Whole Lot Of Leavin

The Writing Contest - Chapter 3: Whole Lot Of Leavin'

Summary: When Nora and Javi finish their script, it's time to say goodbye [for now].

Pairing: Javi Gutierrez x Female!OC (Nora Delaine)

Rating: 18+ Series

Word Count: 2,300 (ish)

Warnings: Romantic angst

Author’s Note: Nearly made myself cry and this isn't even the last of the angst. This being kind of a bridge chapter I decided I'd write it and post an update way sooner than usual.

xxx

"Life with you is never too painful or too dull, angel. It was true forty years ago, and it is now. Your insights, the way you see the world drew me in, and has kept me. My life was anguished and boring before you, not after. I'll never see it any other way. You showed me what it was to live a meaningful life and that's all I could ask for."

You grinned and clapped enthusiastically as Javi dramatically finished reading the last line of your screenplay from the page you'd printed up and bowed comically after, grinning right back at you, an expression that made your heart flutter.

"I think we've done it," he said brightly.

"I think we have too," you agreed. "I cannot imagine any other way to end it. Angie and Nolan being happy in their old age, despite their past hardships, because they have each other. It's romantic in the highest degree, but it's also real. Their lives were far from perfect, but they were perfect for each other."

"You are a poet," Javi declared proudly. "I could not have worded it better myself!"

"You're a bit of one yourself," you told him, a smile tugging at your lips. He was cute when he got excited. "I liked that 'has kept me' bit. It might be bordering too poetic for a modern movie, but what the hell, it's perfect. And Nolan is a sap so it checks out."

Javi chuckled. "Maybe so, but I quite relate to him in some ways."

"Mmmm, the troubled family?"

"For one," he said somberly, though he did not go on to list other similarities they had.

Great going, Nora, you thought, regretting bringing it up. You knew his family was a touchy subject. You should've known better.

You cleared your throat to take the awkwardness out of the moment. "So, how do you feel having written your first real romantic script?"

"Like I want to do it all over again," he told you, his positive energy rejuvenating as soon as you'd gotten the question out. "I always feel that way after I complete a story, but this one is extra special."

"Please," you said, brushing off his comment, “There are one hundred other stories just like it."

"Just like, but not quite," he argued passionately. "Yours is more compelling than any romance I've read or seen in a long time."

"Ours," you corrected him.

"Ours," Javi repeated, "Yes, the details are ours. But it was always your creation, Nora."

You nodded, not sure how to respond to that. Maybe you didn't need to say anything, but not doing so was foreign to you. You weren't used to easily accepting praise. Most of the time you didn't feel worthy of it, doubt a constant friend in your life, a toxic one who always knocked down your sails.

"So, we've got our final draft," you began as Javi returned to his seat next to you. "What's next?"

"Next we email it to Walter and he sends it out to some of the film companies we've worked with before," he answered, "If none of them buy the script he'll extend the offer to others. But I'm confident one of the companies I've worked with in the past will take it. Lionsgate especially has expressed interest in taking up another screenplay from me."

"You really think it's theater worthy?" you asked, chewing on the cap of the pen in your hand nervously.

"Of course!"

"So when are you going to email it?"

"No time like now," Javi decided, flipping the lid to his laptop up. "That way Walter has a couple days before the weekend hits to reach out."

You watched as he typed up an email to Walter and linked the completed screenplay to him under the title "California Dreamers", your placeholder name for the script. Javi had warned you that often times studios or directors changed the names of screenplays once they started filming, but you still hoped whoever picked it up would see the need for that particular title. It played an important role in the story as far as you were concerned.

After Javi submitted the screenplay to Walter you both looked at each other blankly, unsure of what to do with your nearly nine week long project completed.

"What do we do while we wait for news?" you inquired.

He sighed. "We do whatever we want. I usually turn my focus back on the vineyard, or take a vacation. You...you can stay a while if you'd like, but you do not need to stay. You can go back home, be with your family and friends. There's nothing left to do that we can't do by email or video chat."

"So this is it," you realized, feeling heavy. You did miss your family, Sierra, and your rabbits, but you'd miss Valley View, and you didn't want to say goodbye to Javi.

"Only for now," he stated cheerfully, "We've got the premiere to go to when the film is released, after all, and then award season."

"Please," you said, trying to push away the part of you that wanted to entertain the idea of what it would be like to win any kind of award for your writing. "It's only my first screenplay. There's no way."

"Never say never!" he exclaimed, squeezing your shoulder. "There have been worst odds."

You couldn't deny that, you supposed.

x

He found you sitting on the stone bench by the Koi pond, tossing leftover cooked peas to them and watching the colorful mass of them swarm for an opportunity to eat one. There were a good thirty or so of them in the pond so it was entertaining to observe. You tried to make sure they all got at least one.

It was a good distraction from what you'd have to do next.

"Nora, what are you doing back here? You're going to be late."

You turned to see Javi approaching you, a wayward wavy lock of hair flopped over his forehead. Even disheveled he was ridiculously handsome.

"Wanted to say goodbye," you told him, gesturing towards the fish. "As silly as that is."

"It's not silly," he responded, shaking his head. "Koi are very intelligent for fish. They recognize the ones who feed them."

You smiled up at him fondly. "Thanks, but I doubt I've fed them often enough for them to remember me. I don't need them to. I'll miss them because I'll miss Valley View. I've never said it to you before, but this place is special, Jav."

"It is," he agreed. "And it's only a flight away. You can visit whenever you'd like."

"Thanks," you said gratefully, your smile turning wispy, "I might take you up on that offer."

"Please do." The tone in his voice was so genuine you wanted to cry.

As much as you'd miss his home, you'd miss Javi much more. Having spent every day of the last two months with him you'd gotten used to him being around. Felt close to him. You didn't want your friendship to turn long distance. You'd had a taste of what that was like with Sierra while you were staying at Valley View. You hated saying goodbye to Javi, but there was no denying a part of you was anxious to return home too, if nothing else for her, your rabbits, and your beloved old couch.

The part that wanted to stay silently tried to bargain. A few more days. You could cancel your flight and stay just a few more days. You knew Javi wouldn't mind, the cost of a commercial airline ticket was nothing to him, and you had been a little quick on the trigger buying your ticket back to North Dakota, having purchased it the same night you'd wrapped the screenplay. You had booked a flight that would take off two days later. At the time you'd thought it smart, rip the Band-Aid off smart, but with the two days having passed in a blur, you regretted it. If you stayed for the weekend you and Javi could go out one last time, maybe back to that bar you'd gone to for your birthday...

No. It was better this way.

"Let me drive you to the airport," Javi insisted, drawing you out of your thoughts.

Not trusting your words, you just nodded your yes. You could let him do that.

Ten minutes later you fetched your suitcase and overnight bag from the little house on the far side of the property and shoved them into the backseat of his dark green Land Rover.

Javi climbed into the driver's seat while you did so, and you joined him up front within a few seconds. As soon as you were buckled in and he'd put on sunglasses, he started driving to the airport. It was sunny and in the high sixties that day, so you opened the passenger window a crack, sucking in the fresh air as it rolled in. You watched as the now familiar landscape passed by, or rather, as you passed it by. Would you ever see it again? You quietly wondered. There was always a chance you wouldn't, so you tried to memorize it, just in case.

Javi was unusually subdued during the ride, his brief words here and there awkward and stiff. He mentioned that Walter had sent the screenplay to the last company on their list that morning and it was just a waiting game now to see who would make an offer for it. You'd simply nodded and kept your eyes on the world outside the vehicle, trying to hold back a sudden surge of confusing emotions.

It came to a head on the sidewalk in front of the airport's main entrance, after you'd gathered your belongings from the backseat and turned to Javi one last time.

He’d slid his sunglasses off his face and tucked them into a shirt pocket, the subtitle sadness in his exposed brown eyes making your heart ache.

"Goodbye, for now," he said, trying to force a smile, to create the illusion of him being his cheerful self. "Don't look so upset, eh? This is just the beginning. We've still got a lot to do once the script's picked up. Like going to the premiere."

"Video chatting won't be the same," you admitted to him.

"I meant what I said," he told you, "You can visit anytime."

"Thanks." You barely got out the word due to the lump forming in your throat. Was the cause sadness or regret?

"Come 'ere," Javi demanded softly, gesturing for you to hug him. You smiled and walked into his arms, swallowing hard as he squeezed you tight. You kept silently trying to remind yourself that this really wasn't going to be a permanent goodbye, but that still left you mourning the last two months. Things would never be the same.

"Bye, Javi." On impulse you gave him a peck on the cheek before spinning away and ambling into the building, not giving him a chance to return your words, and not allowing yourself to see his startled reaction.

You refused to look back.

x

"Nora!" Sierra squealed as soon as she opened her front door to see you standing before her. "You're back!"

She jumped into your arms and you yelped at the surprise embrace. "You knew I was coming home today," you reminded her. You'd called to let her know as soon as the plane ticket had been bought, before you'd even told your parents.

"Seeing is believing," she chimed. "It's good to have you back."

"You too." It really was. Even taking her brief visit for your birthday in account this had been the longest time you'd both spent apart, having grown up in the same town and been friends ever since you could remember.

"You anxious to see Buttercup and Tux?" she quizzed.

"Dying," you claimed, grinning ear to ear. "How have they been?"

"Same as when you last asked me yesterday," she replied, snorting. "Come on. They're munching on hay in their playpen."

She lead you through the kitchen of her old rental and into the living room. There next to her couch was a metal fenced playpen with two Miniature Lop rabbits inside.

The bigger one was also the oldest, a spayed butterscotch and white female. She was brushing shoulders with her younger pal, a black spotted male. They'd come with their names when you'd rescued them from the local animal shelter three years ago. You couldn't argue with them being named after their colors, and Buttercup looked very sweet with the heart shaped patch on her rump.

You climbed into the pen with them and sat cross legged as you petted them. "You guys have no idea how much I missed you," you gushed.

"Hopefully not as much as me," Sierra teased.

"It's a toss up," you joked and she huffed.

"Well, at least it's a toss up."

You scooped up Tux and placed him on your lap, one of his most favorite places to be. He continued to chew on the hay in his mouth as you stroked him slowly.

"So, how'd it go saying goodbye?" Sierra asked in a gentle tone. "You okay?"

"Yeah." You nodded. "Of course. Why wouldn't I be?"

She rolled her eyes and folded her arms over her chest. "Cause you have feelings for Javi and now he's states away."

"Javi and I are friends," you told her as you played with one of Tux's long ears, "He didn’t stop me from leaving and he sent me a thumbs up emoji when I texted him to let him know I landed safely.”

"You two are both idiots," Sierra muttered, sounding exasperated.

"Even if you were right about him being interested in me in that way," you began, "We would have never worked out."

"Keep telling yourself that," she retorted.

"I have to," you said quietly, so low she didn't catch it.

Despite your previous conviction, deep in the crevices of your mind, doubt was starting to seep in.

Naturally, you refused to pay attention to it.

xxx

Tagged: @harriedandharassed

xxx

Series Masterlist

Main Masterlist

xxx

[killldeer]

what was meant to be liveblog

lotta yelling and caps in this one. consider yourself warned

- alright let’s see how well i can take notes while probably also geeking tf out

- the jolt of fear when I read “3000 years ago” that we were abt to see the eotw prologue oh my god

- WAIT UH OH

- this is so insane

- CINEMATIC INTRODUCTION JUMPSCARE FUCK YES

- dain’s armor 😍

- dain in silver and geofram in matching gold,,, father son armor set

- hello beach waygate from all of the promos <3

- i love how explicitly lanfear reveals layers of her Schemes to ishamael. like obviously this is a visual medium so it’s kind of necessary, but natasha o’keefe delivers it in such a delicious teasing way

- OH SO WE’RE GOING FULL FANTASY CATHOLIC CULT HUH. like what are the little holy water swingy things called. i can’t believe the whitecloaks just have these things.

- watching the whitecloaks and seanchan kill each other with unbridled glee and a bowl of popcorn

- NOOOO NOT CHARACTERS WITH PERSONAL AND CULTURAL RELATIONSHIPS TO THEIR HAIR GETTING IT CHOPPED OFF AS A PUNISHMENT THAT’S THE TROPE I’M SENSITIVE ABOUT

- “I know who kills [rand], and what he uses to do it”. I mean yeah but like. you don’t have to rub it in

- HM. DIDN’T LIKE THAT TRANSITION

- angry nynaeve. ANGRY NYNAEVE.

- “i’m not gonna touch it :)” sigh. this is the face of a man who is probably going to touch it

- moiraine and lan re-bonding forehead touch event leaves 8 dead 29 injured

- oh boy it’s Ingtar Reveal Time methinks??

- turak posturing himself to get into a Proper Blademaster Duel and rand just immediately killing the entire squad with saidin bullets. THAT’s how you fucking deal w the seanchan baby

- the tension of egwene being forced to channel to kill but also knowing that she’s doing it against the whitecloaks who tortured her is so thick i could cut it with a knife. ooouuughh

- suroth’s fucking azula lookin ass

- mat baby boy you can do it. i believe in you buddy

- ARE YOU MAKING A FUCKING SPEAR

- MATRIM CAUTHON I LOVE YOU SO MUCH IT HURTS

- haha holy shit. holy shit. they’re gonna do the Sul’dam Can Channel reveal with egwene and renna.

- “Pick up your weapons! Fight with us! Send these slavers back where they came from!” Heartbreaking; The Worst Man You Know Just Made A Good Point

- mat perrin reunion 🥹

- KICK HER FUCKING ASS EGWENE

- “you abandoned [egwene]. you made her a killer.” oh fuck OFF man c’mon. please please do not let this be the jumpstart for rand’s Weird About Women spiral please

- THE HORN OF BLOODY VALERE BABY

- I like that it looks so goofy and futuristic. it’s even got a mysterious little shimmer effect. I of course love the aesthetic of it being a funny little French horn as much as the next books fan, but lbr this is much more the speed of the age of legends ppl

- oh god. oh god i did get so caught up in the plot that i forgot the reason hopper spends most of this series in tel’aran’rhiod.

- hopper’s last sending being him soaring into the sky :,(

- kill geofram bornhald. kill geofram bornhald. kill geofram bornhald.

- YEAHHHH

- CMON BABY BLOW THE HORN

- THE GRAVE! IS NO BAR!! TO MY CALL!!!!

- “I… I remember.”

- AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA

- ohhh man the SCORE. the fact that it sounds kinda like a “regular” fantasy score is so fun

- UNO IS FUCKING HERE

- birgitte!! hi!!!!!!!!

- DOVIE’ANDI SE TOVYA SAGAIN

- HOLY FUCKING SHIT

- I would like to submit to the record. for posterity’s sake. that the above notes for this scene were written only after i rewatched it for the third time. because the first two times I watched it I was literally in tears almost the entire time. like as soon as i started to see the heroes of the horn materializing behind him I was gone. just pointing at the screen sobbing “that’s my fucking boy!”

- “I’m not sure I’ll be able to channel when I get there.” hey so why are we not letting nynaeve channel at all now!! how is she not furious about at least some aspect of the situation she is currently in??? i’m not even the biggest nynaeve stan but this one is even pissing me off

- egwene holding her shield alone against ishamael ohhhh my god

- well at least we still get the “rand meets elayne while she’s patching him up” meetcute or whatever

- the gang’s all here :)

- hm the big fiery dragon seems a little goofy. not sure what exactly i’m feeling about it

- YOU. MOGHEDIEN.

- the show shares my moggy pronunciation

- moghedien looks like a teen lesbian. I mean this in a tone of utmost praise. look at those crazy bangs and long dark skirt and huge chunky boots that still only take her up to Lanfear Tits Height

- “Light help you, rand al’thor.” lanfear seems aware of this but she’s literally gonna need that luck as much as he does if she’s gonna survive the average Daily Forsaken Squabbles without killing someone

[carpesanguinem]

The blasting rod is a tool used in witchcraft that can vary greatly depending on the creator. It has a history of being used for multiple purposes, but it is eclipsed by the possible malefic usages. It is known to be able to purify, banish, protect of course, but it also used to wither crops and wombs, cause illness, accident, break up storms and divert lightning. Absorbing clouds and controlling spirits and demons alike, as well as being a tool that can intimidate or offend the Fae.

Most times when it’s described, it’s made of blackthorn. Prunus spinosa, or the blackthorn tree, sloe berry etc is a perennial plant that grows in Europe, notably in Ireland, Scotland, and England, though it is also found in the United States near the coasts. It’s a relative of Rowan and Hawthorn, but unlike the other two, has a notable penchant for more “aggressive” magics. All accounts can agree that whether or not you have a sensitivity to energies, or spirits, care must be taken when working with the plant because on the mundane front, black, vicious thorns sprout from the branches. Left untreated, the wounds have been known to fester and grow septic. For this, and the history of burning witch’s with their rods, canes and walking sticks, as well as tossing additional blackthorn wood, the reasoning that it is a purifying wood may come from that.

I’ve spoken at length with several other witches about the ins and outs of blasting rods and changed my opinion on their creation more than once. The conclusion, I have trouble deciding to this day. While mentioned in traditional witchcraft based on European, especially Celtic traditions, it is almost inexplicably tied with blackthorn. It’s possible that it has that connection because of the common practice of having blackthorn staffs, canes, and shillelagh, but in another famous text (although the origin is a bit dubios), blackthorn is not mentioned.

According to the French text “The Grand Grimoire”, it is described as a hand wand that has two forks, capped with magnetized steel. This text, supposedly written in 1522, but researches place the text as written most likely in the 17th and 18th centuries, also claims that the blasting rod is an ancient tool that harkens back to the Garden of Eden, being the tool that God gave to the Angel when Adam and Eve were driven from paradise. Further account says that the blasting rod was used to smite the rebellious angels and condemn them to the pit.

Whether through this text, other folklore, or individual’s experiences with their own rods, it is known as a tool with an affinity for banishment and control of spirits and demons through intimidation. One could assume that, similar to lore of vampires being afraid of the sign of the cross, demons and spirits fear the replica of the tool originally used to seal their fate…again, simply an extrapolation if you go off The Grand Grimoire.

There is another story that I read ages ago that, apologies, I know I’m missing some details, but included a man who had business to attend with The Good Neighbors, or the Fae. He had a blackthorn cane as many did, but to conclude his business, he had to lessen his terrible weapon, by removing the iron tip. Only then, by lessening the fatal nature of the blasting rod, was he allowed entry under the hill to ask his favor.

From this story, and common practice of having metal at the tip of the cane for stability, another aspect of the blasting rod is revealed that mirrors that of the Grand Grimiore. Rather than a forked wand with magnetized caps, it is a simple cane of blackthorn with an iron tip.

Another supposed traditions from an article, claims that to make a blackthorn anything into a blasting rod or black rod, the rune Thurisaz is inscribed or burned into it. This may be some holdover from viking or Norse interactions with Ireland and the British isles. Speaking with some traditional witches I know of various backgrounds, an iron blade is attached to the rod, preferably from a knife that the witch had used previously. Some say that it is in the harvesting of the plant that the rod gains its power. By communicating with the plant spirits, either an agreement is formed where witch and wielded work together, or by infuriating the plant enough to lend its power to the witch through the gift of a branch. Either are valid depending on your tradition, and this is where I get stuck myself on the creation.

The Blasting rod in Celtic tradition is always made of blackthorn, though in other texts, the blackthorn is not listed specifically. Does that mean that this powerful tool gains its power through any baneful plant, or that blackthorn is the catalyst? Does that make it a blasting rod if you use any thorned plant, or do you follow the tradition of utilizing metal and forked branches. I’m not quite sure, to be honest. It could be a case of creating a powerful tool that has those usages, but referring to it as a “Blasting Rod” is a misnomer. Similar to referring to the magistellus flora of a plant as an “Alraune” when it’s not made of mandrake.

What I can surmise from wand lore, folklore, tradition and locale, is that a branch with some marking, whether metal or burned into it, is ritually consecrated to connect to the witch. It is from a woody plant that has import and history, connected to power, purification, and a connection to the land. If a metal is included, it is of iron, or a metal that is magnetized, and it must be treated with care. Of course, there are variances, as there is with any tool crafted by the witch. Some examples keep the thorns, an outward symbol of its offensive power, others are disguised as simple walking sticks, what is agreed is that it is a powerful tool if it is in fact a blasting rod and not just a wand. If made with the proper intent, it can be your greatest ally, or worst enemy. And after seeing more than one post about someone’s pet being found eating their “blasting rod” I urge you to refrain from trying to make one if you can’t be responsible.

The last thing I will say is that I believe that a tool like this is crafted once, and not created again until broken. Let me clarify, I think that you can have multiple blasting rods of various sizes, and possibly purposes if one seems to meld better to a specific type of magic. I’ve seen people talk about making wands of 12 different woods, and some with crystals, and some with wire, and some with feathers. Don’t make it if you aren’t going to use it. Spend time getting it right the first time, instead of abandoning it as soon as you find a “better” piece of wood. But who am I to tell you what to do? You do you, but this is my answer to a question I received and my rambling opinions.

🦋Cheers, Barberwitch

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Witch Tip Wednesday 1.23.19

The Blasting Rod

I received an ask about how to make a blasting rod a while back, and through a series of events, I delayed answering so I could gather some additional information because this tool has a very powerful mystique, coupled with a relatively simple premise.

I’ll start off with some possible ways to make a Blasting Rod aka Black Rod before I delve deeper into some of the references and my ramblings. One thing that seems clear to me, but seems obvious is that to make a blasting rod, that must be your intent. It isn’t simply a wand made of blackthorn (powerful enough on its own) but one made with the intent to utilize it for both beneficial and malefic magic. In European/Celtic tradition it is made of Blackthorn, though other sources do not specify the wood needed. Designate it as a blasting rod, include iron, thorn, or bone, and connect to it as an extension of yourself. It is called a blasting rod, because of its use as blasting the witch’s power in the direction it is aimed, alternatively named a blasting rod for the fact that it will blast or destroy if that is the witch’s intent. Aside from that, I believe the further fabrication of it should be personal to the one creating it. If that is including an inscription, a symbols or sigil of power, or a glyph that represents the witch or the possible workings. The blasting rod should mirror the witch as an inanimate representation of how the witch works, how they view themselves, and the endless possibilities that encompass the witch’s work.

There are of course specific rituals one can do to make the rod, but their validity is again an issue that one must sort through to find what is someone’s idea of how it was done traditionally, someone’s own creation, or a remnant come to light from times gone by. I’m not going to police you and tell you that it must be done one ritual is more valid than another, especially because I’m not going to share my own ritual for crafting a blasting rod. My goal is to provide some context, food for thought, and to show that it’s not as simple as spouting some universal truth in the matter of crafting it.

Top: Blackthorn and bone blasting rod. Middle: Bone and rosewood wand. Bottom: Bone and rosewood want with fossilized belemnite tip by traditional witch Gemma Gary.

Another blasting rod from the Museum of Witchcraft (Cornwall) Braided blackthorn.

More Below the Break!

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[my-darling-boy]

Genuinely asking, isn't self-diagnose with a condition kind of dangerous? Because legitimizing self-diagnosing opens a door to many malicious people who would want to exploit the fact they can self-diagnose? And in turn, make the space of autistic people worse?

Was going to skip this, but I’m writing a LONG response because I’m VERY exhausted with the amount of misinformation I see on this “self dx is dangerous” take, so buckle up and allow me to info dump.

Recently, authentic_autism_advocacy, an Instagram account run by a supposed medically diagnosed autistic woman was discovered to be a non-autistic woman, Connie Manning, posing as a medically diagnosed autistic person to spread hate and anti-self diagnosing speech. In reality, she is a neurotypical mother who regularly uses her autistic son for clout; she also turned out to have a hand behind CalmWear, a brand of sensory compression products designed for disabled people. Not only had she been spewing hatred towards other autistic people, she had been accusing well known AFAB autistic tiktokers like beckspectrum of faking being autistic and threatening self diagnosed autistics and saying they are a danger to the community, and engaging in other incredibly discriminating behaviour. Yes, she herself was a neurotypical person posing as a medically diagnosed autistic to perpetuate hateful rhetoric about self diagnosed people and used her voice to speak OVER autistic folk for financial gain and exploitation of autistic people, including her own son. If you want to read this roller coaster of a story, an autistic person wrote an entire article on it with tons of screenshots and sources.

So let me make one thing clear to you.

The purpose of actually, genuinely self diagnosing is not done to attract attention or to parade around and exploit other autistic people. Self diagnosed autistic individuals have recognised due to difficult life circumstances, financial hardship, bigotry and stigma within the medical/legal world, being a minor, lack of insurance, lack of proper access to safe care facilities, being denied assessment due to incompetent or biased practitioners, and/or any other obstacle that they may temporarily or permanently be barred from diagnosis. Self diagnosis does NOT instantly mean a person is posing for clout, nor does it indicate a person is trying to wring money from assistance services or exploit other autistics. And nts who use self diagnose with intentions of harming the community? That’s NOT self diagnosis, that’s abuse of something meant to aid people blocked from medical care or financial means to that care. All we can do for autistic people, no matter who we perceive them to be, is treat them the same way we would any other autistic person. Because the moment you start deciding by your own book who deserves respect and who doesn’t, you’ll be on a slippery slope to locking out thousands of autistic people from the community. If it’s discovered a person like Connie is literally abusing the system of self dx to intentionally mislead the community, by all means, we must hold them accountable. But you cannot simply go about granting and revoking access from people just because someone lacks a diagnosis or doesn’t fit your idea of what being autistic looks like, especially if it’s based on stereotypes.

Moral of the story? Isn’t it ironic how anti-self dx people will 100% believe a user who claims to be medically diagnosed but shows no “written proof” of it, yet always demand written proof from a self dx person? It’s almost like even anti-self dx people can’t tell the difference between someone who is medically diagnosed autistic and someone who isn’t. Well, that’s because they can’t. While there might be common traits, autism has no set model, it is a spectrum, no autistic person is alike; Policing self diagnosed people about their self diagnosis isn’t a form of protecting the community. It’s a form of gatekeeping. If you find yourself granting instant acceptance, without asking for proof, to a person insisting they are medically diagnosed like this neurotyical mother, but then prohibit self dx people from entry entirely on the grounds of not showing proof of medical assessment, you are upholding a double standard. This is why policing autistic people’s diagnosis, self or not, is inherently useless.

So here’s the thing... instead of asking people to stop self diagnosing, what you should instead be asking yourself is, “Why do people self diagnose? What kind of medical system could possibly be in place where people feel they need to resort to self diagnosis rather than get an actual diagnosis?”

Well, it’s mainly common knowledge among most of the autistic community that diagnosis is NOT easy to come by.

One of the main reasons why people cannot get a diagnosis is due to financial/insurance reasons. It’s reasonable to estimate that by the end of 2020 almost 30 million Americans alone were without health insurance. I’ve heard costs out of pocket for an autism diagnosis are between $500-$6000. If a person or a family cannot afford health insurance—which by the way on average is around $5,400 a year for a single person and $13,800 for a family here—where are they supposed to pull out $6,000 to get screened?

You might be asking, “Well aren’t insurances supposed to cover disability?” Sure, there are options for disability care through health insurance—not even going to get into that—but like a lot of things in the US, this is a severely flawed system. A lot of private health insurance will stop or limit coverage for an autism diagnosis or assistance services once a person reaches 18 to 21 years old. In most states, coverage has a higher chance of being denied to autistic adults coming with the added age cap or ONLY covering ABA, an abusive, manipulative “therapy” used to force social compliance and trait suppression on autistic people. The fact that ABA, a conversion therapy, is covered, but little else, shows exactly what insurance companies think of autistic people: they’ll only cover us if we want to learn to be “normal”. This can leave many undiagnosed autistic adults who cannot afford analysis, insurance, or safe assistance services with nowhere to turn. If I was not on my parents’ insurance, there is NO WAY I would EVER be able to afford a diagnosis. I don’t have $2,000 lying around. The MONEY ALONE would prohibit me from getting a diagnosis, no matter how many autistic traits I presented.

When I was going through this system years ago to start a diagnosis, I was shocked to find no therapist within three hours of me was accepting adult patients. “Up to 18 only” their websites would say. And in the event I had found one (1) that accepted me as a then 20 year old with X insurance, and that person refused me diagnosis, I would be out of options unless I planned a 5 hour drive which may have also led me to another biased screener. A person seeking self financed assessment can waste thousands of dollars therapist hopping.

People will say, “Well I live in X place, and where I come from, it’s covered!” Well the reality is that everyone in the world does not live where you live. It’s not realistic to assume everyone is in the same position as you or your family to afford care or access the same resources as you. When you say, “Just go out and get a diagnosis! It’s not that hard!”, understand you are speaking from your personal vantage point where screening may be easily accessed or easily covered/is free OR you have no personal knowledge of what that process is like yourself.

The second thing that bars a ton of people from being diagnosed is the fact that when autism was first discovered, its research was HEAVILY centered on white, cis, heterosexual men. The idea that autistic people are ONLY cis, white, heterosexual men carries on to this day. If you are an outlier to this stereotype, your chances of being misdiagnosed with something else or refused diagnosis skyrocket because so-called “professionals” don’t know how to observe traits in any other person besides a cis, white, heterosexual man, and refuse/fail to recognise the endless ways in which a person can be autistic. ALL the time I hear how AFAB people will go in to get screened only to find out their screener does not believe AFAB people can be autistic, because yes, sexism and anti-lgbtq+ ideas play a huge role in the incredibly outdated diagnostic process, because autism is still believed to be an “AMAB only” thing. People report going into a therapists office and being asked questions like, “Do you like going outside? Do you like having friends?” and being told that if you agree with either of these, you cannot be autistic because criteria at some places is so backwards, you can’t even say you enjoy conversation without failing the test. Other things commonly heard during the analysis are screeners telling someone they are too smart/articulate to be autistic, gas lighting them by saying they are mistaking their symptoms for something else/making them up, telling a person they seem normal, dismissing clear autistic traits by saying they’re unique “superpowers”, or intentionally misdiagnosing a person as ADHD INSTEAD of autistic. People on social media have also pointed out what influences racism has on the diagnostic process as well and how lack of research and understanding of autistic POC contributes to under-diagnosis and stigma has only contributed to refusal of care and under-representation of POC in the disabled community, as one autistic Black woman points out on Instagram, “I found excellent articles that support and validate my feelings and experiences, but I could find no research on autistic Black people.” Additionally, because research has primarily been done on young men, this means anyone who is not a cis man and is over the age of 18 and is seeking a diagnosis has a much higher chance of not receiving one because screeners don’t understand how autistic traits may present differently in adults, especially since adults are very likely to mask. Some autism screeners are so against autism they have told clients they would only diagnosis a person autistic if it was their last resort to avoid “placing a burden on their shoulders”. These reasons are largely responsible for why autism is incredibly mis/under-diagnosed. This ask would be the length of a novel if I included every single type of discrimination and mistreatment during the evaluation process alone, but understand it can be incredibly biased, sexist, transphobic, racist, or just flat out ableist. And guess what? Though this process can take as little as a month to get sorted, that is rare. The assessment SHOULD be very short. But a lot of autistic people have reported their diagnosis took more than 2-4 years because of having to waste time, energy, and money hopping from therapist to therapist looking for someone to take them seriously, as many autistic people compiled on the actuallyautistictiktoks page on Instagram point out.

The last thing I want to touch on is this idea that people have that self diagnosing is dangerous. “What if someone self diagnoses and they take advantage of services that are meant for autistic people?” ...The Big Things you think I am going to take advantage of as a self diagnosed autistic person, like scholarship money for instance or SSDI, I do not have legal access to without a formal diagnosis. I cannot waltz into a law firm and ask for a $5,000 scholarship for autistic people without a diagnosis, because they WILL NOT give it to me!

Let me tell you some of things I’ve “cruelly taken advantage of” as a self diagnosed autistic person. I bought glasses with blue light protection, because screen and fluorescent lighting at work and even natural blue toned light from the sky lowers my threshold for some sensory input like noise and social interaction; wearing them to work everyday has improved my sensory thresholds incredibly. I’ve talked to my manager and told him I’m autistic and that I have a hard time understanding vague direction and may need to step away briefly on occasion to tend to a shutdown before a meltdown comes on at work; he had no problem with this. I use subtitles; sometimes I have trouble processing audio or reading facial expressions and tone, and being able to see the words displayed on the screen gives me a significantly better understanding of what I watch. All my life, I have been having meltdowns which I had mistaken for mental breakdowns or panic attacks and having access to resources that walked me through preventative methods and tips on what to do if I have one has been ENORMOUSLY helpful to me. All my life, I was trying to deal with them thinking they were something else; becoming aware of this and accepting that they are in fact autistic meltdowns has helped me not only go through them, but has helped me redirect stims which at their worst previously had me hitting and clawing my arms, slapping my face, and even hitting my head. I don’t know about you, but I don’t want to wait 4 years for a diagnosis to use resources I could be using to make my life more accessible right now!

People will say, “Oh well yeah, I don’t mean You are one of Those Types of self diagnosed autistic people, you clearly sound/look autistic, I’m talking about other people.” The thing is, there is no broad “sounding/looking autistic”, that’s stereotyping, and you can’t demand everyone who interacts with you show you their Autistic Card, because again, not everyone is able to be diagnosed, especially given the mistreatment and stigma present towards autistic people in the medical field! And what made you ask for their diagnosis? Because they “don’t seem autistic” to you? Why didn’t you ask for their diagnosis? Because they “seemed autistic” to you? By denying anyone who doesn’t have a diagnosis resources they may very well need, you are denying assistance to thousands of people who are without means to be diagnosed. And I am SO tired of seeing comments online on self diagnosis posts that “people don’t know what they’re taking about” as if they know us personally, like are you me? Are you my doctor I’ve consulted? Did you watch me academically research and consult with other autistic people about being autistic for over 3 years? I’m tired of “well, one time a self diagnosed person laughed at my actually autistic diagnosed friend...so all self dx people are evil” because there is ZERO correlation between a person being self assessed and their behavior towards a non self assessed person. The fact both those arguments are in use whenever self dx comes up is yet another form of gatekeeping.

Self diagnosing autism is not begging for attention or Evil Criminal Money Funneling Schemes. It is a result of a deeply flawed medical and insurance system that has failed to give proper attention and care to those who need it, it is a result of resources not made available, of safe support systems not there for kids and adults alike. You want to talk about what’s truly dangerous? How the hate group Autism Speaks has been parading itself around since 2005 as an advocacy group for autistic people and has been misusing millions of dollars worth of donation money and promoting stigma and hatred around autistic people; no autistic members are present on their board. How Sia and her new film Music was nominated for 2 Golden Globes despite it replacing the original autistic actor with a neurotypical actor, using offensive stereotypes, and using the main autistic character as a prop, and featured an extremely dangerous bodily restraint scene on an autistic person having a meltdown in public and featured very insensitive content due to Sia’s lack of consulting with autistic people to make the film (spoilers in that article).

Instead of policing autistic people, whether they fit your idea of what an autistic person is or not, redirect your efforts and your energy to dismantling systems and holding others accountable for perpetuating harmful stereotypes about autistic people that are legitimately dangerous on such a scale that they have created insurmountable damage to the autistic community. But I guarantee you, worrying over whether your classmate is “faking it” will not do any justice to the decades worth of discrimination autistic people face still today.

I understand. You care about the community, you don’t want autistic people to be exploited or taken advantage of. I don’t want to be exploited and taken advantage of as an autistic person, and I don’t want that for others! But I also understand that when we self proclaim ourselves as judges of random autistic strangers on the internet or start accusing people of faking or demanding to see medical paperwork from people when the basis of our suspicions is “this person doesn’t look like my stereotyped view on how I think an autistic person should act”, THAT is when you really run into trouble. Because if you are allowed to deny self dx people entrance into the autistic community, what’s stopping you from thinking you have the power to deny ANYONE entrance into that community?

And there is power in self diagnosis for many autistic people. When the evaluation system is literally rigged to set you up for failure and put you through unnecessary hardship, self dx is a self affirming, empowering tool to take back control from a process designed to gaslight and crush you. The evaluation process was NOT formulated by an autistic person, nor was it made to be inclusive of all autistic people. Until the evaluation system in place for autistic people is safe, accessible, and free to ALL, you have EVERY right to self diagnose.

[kireimarkeu]

We got Married!; mk.l

[johnny]

character: oc x husband!mark lee

summary; where you and mark join a television show as husband and wife.

genre; fluff!

word count: 5.6k

a/n; i wasn’t really planning to write a wgm ver for mark, but i had so much ideas suddenly come to me so here it is :) i think i’ve grown and has written different kinds of fics, and i feel really confident in this one! i think you can see the difference if you read the johnny one compared to this hehe :) i really hope you guys like this because i reallyyyy did!!!

also, thank you guys for 500 followers! i havent done much but repost old works, but still got followers lmfaooo 

also a little note: bold + italic means mark is in the studio watching the show together

italic means questions are being asked to y/n and mark in the interview area

enjoy you guys :)

Episode 22

“Hello, I am NCT Mark and I am 22 years old,” a smile adorns his lips as the boy next to you bow at the camera.

“Hello, I am Mark’s wife, Y/N, and I am 21 years old,” you greet, bowing politely at the camera.

“This is the first time we have very young guests coming to our show,” one of them said.

“I think many fans are wondering why you had gotten married at such a young age?” one asked.

Another continued, “yeah, I don’t think it’s common in Korea,” they said, “I heard that Mark used to live in Canada for some time, is it common to get married at such a young age, there?” 

Mark chuckles, shaking his head, “No, no, we both decided to get married young because we have always talked about spending our 20s together.”

“How long have the both of you been married?”

Mark looks at you before answering, “We got married just a few months ago, actually.”

“To be exact, it has been about 4 months now,” you continued.

“How long did you guys date?”

“We dated for about 3 years, before we both decided that we wanted to get married straight away,” your husband answers.

“Wait, 3 years? But the news of you guys dating came out a year ago, though?”

“We dated secretly~” Mark replied shyly.

“You guys are the youngest couple to be on our show, has anyone been opposed to the idea of you guys getting married at such a young age?”

Your hand lands on your husbands shoulders, “to start, of course we received a lot of hate comments online when the news came out, but we knew this was what we wanted, so we never really doubted for a second.”

Mark agrees with your words, “yeah, our parents were also a little skeptical by our plans but we were adults and had explained clearly why we wanted to get married at such a young age.”

You hum along with Mark’s words. 

“Tell us honestly, was it hard dating someone when you are one of the biggest boy group in Korea?” one of them asked Mark.

Mark though for a moment, he wasn’t sure if he should spill out the truth or just butter everything up. “Well, of course it was. I knew what I was getting into and so did Y/N,” he says, “and as expected we knew that if we get caught, there would be tons of comments about us.”

“How did you overcome the mean comments?”

“Of course, we had both shared tears because of those comments, but we promised to never leave each other because of what others think.”

The scene started with the both of you eating breakfast at the dinner table. 

The casts of We Got Married started laughing at the sight of Mark’s bed head.

“You know, we really need to go grocery shopping,” you tell your husband who was sitting before you. 

He hums, “we’ll go this afternoon, I need to get some things too,”

You swallow your food, “what things, babe?”

“Doyoungie’s birthday is just around the corner, and I wanna bake him a cake,” he tells you. 

You squint your eyes at the boy, “bake? Are you sure you won’t burn down our kitchen?”

He rolls his eyes at your words, “I’m a grown up, babe, I definitely know how to bake,”

“Didn’t Mark went trending for a while when he cooked eggs?” the members laugh. 

“I remember that!”

.•° ✿ °•.

The scene changed to the both of you in the grocery store. You were searching for ingredients that you had written down in your phone. 

You would often forget items, so before you leave the house, you would type down all the things you would need in your phone.

Mark on the other hand, would get food on impulse- mostly snacks and instant food. You don’t mind, but space is limited, every time your husband joins you, he would overspend and in the end, you wouldn’t have space to keep all the extra food.

“Baby, you know we don’t need all these,” you sigh tiredly, your hand gesturing to the different types of chips laying in the cart. “Just pick one, honey, we can’t have everything from the store,” you say exasperatedly. 

Mark pouts at you but quickly removes most of the chips until there was 2 left. You decided to close an eye since you saw one of the new chips that you had been dying to try out. 

“Have you gotten the ingredients for the cake?”

Mark raises his eyebrows at your words, his hands digging through the pile of food in the cart before pulling out a box of cake mix. 

Episode 27

“Let’s welcome the couple who has received good remarks after coming to our show!” one of them said, followed by a series of claps. 

“Wah~ I really did not expect to receive so much nice comments,” Mark says with his hands placed on his chest, “Thank you so much everyone, y/n and I spent the whole night reading all of your comments.”

“Actually, I’m curious,” one of them quickly adds in, “how did the baking go for your member’s birthday?”

“I ended up burning the cake, so Y/N helped me from scratch,” he says sheepishly.

The casts laugh in unison. 

“Did Doyoung know?”

Mark shakes his head, “I lied and told him that I was the one who made the cake, but he didn’t believed me, so I ended up telling him the truth,” Mark says, flustered.

The scene started with the both of you walking in the park. Strings of coos left the casts lips when they saw you wearing a dress with your hair braided to one side. 

With squinted eyes, the both of you tried to find a good shaded spot in the park before putting down a disposable picnic mat, placing each of your shoes on each corner to prevent it from flying around.

You place the picnic basket in the middle of the mat while Mark took a seat, enjoying the view. You took out all the food that you had prepared a few hours prior. 

“Do you need help, babe?” you hear your husband ask from beside you. 

You shake your head, “I’m good,”

After you had settled all the food down, you finally let your legs stretch before you, leaning your head on your husband’s shoulder. 

Mark’s hand that was previously resting on the plastic picnic mat, finds yours, lacing his fingers with you, “this is nice isn’t it?” 

You nod, letting out a satisfied hum. You point towards his phone, “I think you have some songs prepared for this particular moment, am I right?”

“Oh, Mark do you actually have multiple playlists for different occasion?” one of the cast asks. 

Mark nods sheepishly, “I think it just became a habit of mine,”

“I’m not surprised though- he is in the music industry after all, I think it is pretty common, right?”

“I suppose so? It just doesn’t feel right to me if the music doesn’t match with the vibes.”

Mark reaches out for his phone, clicking on a particular playlist called ‘when the sun’s out’. Soon, the first song started playing softly in the background. 

A content sigh leaves your lips, “you know, if I had to choose one thing I’m grateful for you, it has to be your taste in music,” you tell him, quickly pressing your lips against his cheeks softly. 

Mark turns red at your gesture, his hand clutching yours tighter.

“Now I’m curious, what is your favourite song at the moment,” one of them asks, turning to face Mark.

“I really like Justin Bieber a lot,” he answers, “But right now, I can’t stop listening to Good Days by SZA.”

An hour has past by, most of the food already gobbled up by you two. 

“Babe,” Mark calls, poking you on the arm. 

“Hm?”

“Aren’t you tired?” he asks you, “you woke up super early to make food.”

A soft smile spreads across your lips, “a little, why?”

Your husband softly pats his lap, “come lie down and nap a little. The wind feels really good right now,”

You cleaned everything up and made space for yourself. You comfortably laid your head on Mark’s lap. 

“You know,” you started, “I really wish I could look at you right now, but the sun’s too bright.”

Mark rolls his eyes, “don’t be annoying and go to sleep,” he says, his finger softly flicking your cheek. 

A soft laughter left you before you finally shut your eyes, dozing off quietly while laying in your lover’s lap. 

Once Mark realises that you were asleep, he quietly raises his hands to cover your face from the sun. 

“Awww! You are such a romantic, Mark!”

When you realise the bright light was gone, you open an eye to look at your lover who was looking at his phone, with his hand still high up to cover you from the bright sun. 

A smirk adorns your lips, your eyes shutting close. You grab his hands, startling your husband. Lacing your fingers with his, you bring them down to your chest. 

“I don’t want your arms to be in pain,” you mumble, stroking his hands with your thumb. 

You hear Mark scoff at your statement, “I think I can handle it, babe. But, whatever you say.”

A few moments later, you feel his sculpted hands playing with your hair. He would occasionally massage your scalp or tangle your hair between his fingers. 

You didn’t say a word, feeling comfortable. 

The episode ended with Mark pressing a long kiss on your forehead, before pulling away. 

“This couple is too cute!” 

“It’s really unfair that I’m still single, this couple makes me want to get married so bad!” one of them agrees.

Episode 35

“After a long time, the couple is finally back again for another episode!” the cast says excitedly, “the last time they were here, the couple went on a romantic picnic date, leaving us all with envy!”

Mark laughs at their comment.

The scene started with the both of you entering the SM building. You had a cap and a mask on, hopefully to cover your identity from the fans waiting outside.

Although the news of you guys being a married couple had came out a few months ago, there were times where you did not feel like getting your pictures taken. Which, to be honest, was a rare moment for you and Mark since he is one of the biggest boy group.

You held onto your husband’s hands who was leading the way to the practice room. 

Once he finds an available room, Mark quickly puts his things down on an empty table. 

“Okay, so first we need to do some stretching so we don’t hurt ourselves when we dance later,” Mark tells you.

“Why did you want to dance?”

“To be honest, I really hate working out,” you tell them truthfully, “so I asked Mark if he could teach me some dance choreography,”

“Are you good at dancing?”

You laugh, “absolutely not! I have never danced in my life, so this is my first time.”

“She’s too adorable!”

“Babe, can we do something super easy?” you request, taking off your cap since it was covering your vision. 

Your husband nods, “yeah, we’re gonna do Kick It today.”

You wince at that. Kick It is the easiest he could think of? You didn’t say anything, following whatever your husband says. 

“Okay, so, we won’t do like- the whole choreography,” your husband enunciate. Just as you were about to let out a relieved sigh, Mark continues, “we’ll do from the first chorus onwards.”

Your mouth went wide. 

The casts laugh at your reaction.

“Okay, so the chorus kinda goes like this-” he shows you, looking at you through the mirror, “you know it right? you’ve done it before,”

You were at a loss of words, “I mean- I guess? But it’s not perfect so you still have to teach me!” you whine. 

Why is he going so fast? you though to yourself.

“Okay, okay,” he chuckles. 

For the next few hours, Mark teaches you the choreography step by step. 

Your husband was standing behind you, his hands resting on yours, positioning your hands at the right position. 

However, you ruined the romantic moment by stepping away from the male and turning to face him with furrowed eyebrows. 

The casts let out a series of grumbled sighs. 

“Why did Y/N step out? It was such a romantic moment!”

“Exactly!” the other adds on.

“Can we please take a break?” you whine, wiping the sweat that was rolling down your forehead, “I’m so tired,” you huff out, throwing yourself at your husband as he captures you in his arms. 

Mark chuckles, agreeing. He grabs your hand, pulling you to sit down on the empty chair. He quickly runs to the other side of the room to grab two bottles of water, opening one of them and passing it to you. 

He opens one for himself before gulping half of the bottle down his throat.

After you had gulped the whole bottle down, you tried to catch your breath. “I didn’t know it would be this tiring,” you confess, “is this what you go through everyday?”

The boy chuckles, “yeah, but a shorter period.”

You roll your eyes at his statement, “Okay, show-off,” you joke. 

Meanwhile, in the background, Kick It was playing on repeat. An idea pop in your head. 

“Wanna know something?” you asked your boyfriend. 

He nods.

“I’ve been practicing your rap part of this song,” you tell him, “I can rap your part word for word without any mistakes,” you say arrogantly, a smirk forming on your lips. 

“Oh yeah?” he challenges, “my part is coming up, I would love to see you try, babe.”

You stand up from your sitting position with your bottle of water in hand. Getting ready for the verse, you bring your hand that was holding the bottle to your mouth- pretending it was a mic. 

“I’m really excited to see Y/N rap,”

“Me too, she seems so confident,” the other adds on.

When the verse started playing, you rapped your husband’s part. 

Mark started laughing hysterically when you started mumbling random words. “Dude!” your husband laughs, his hand slapping his knee multiple times when you rap incoherently. 

His laughter only ceased when the music stopped. “Oh my god,” he says breathlessly, his fingers wiping the tears from his eyes. “I think you should replace me in NCT,” he jokes. 

Just as you were about to reply, you heard a group come in. You turn around swiftly, your eyes widening when you see the familiar girls walk in. 

“Oh, oh,” Wendy cheers, “what’s the couple doing in the practice room alone?”

“Oh my god, is that Red Velvet?” one of them asks, looking over at Mark with widened eyes. 

Mark laughs and nods his head. 

“Oh.. perhaps, you could ask them for their autograph the next time you see them,” they ask sheepishly, “my bias is Seulgi,” they quickly add on.

Mark laughs harder at that, “sure, if I see them around, I’ll make sure to ask for their autograph,”

“Oh hello,” you greet the girls, they bow politely back at you. 

Your husband chuckles awkwardly, rubbing the back of his neck as he greets the girls. “I’m just practicing with Y/N”

Mark never got the chance to properly meet them in private- it was either with his members or never. Hence, he felt a little nervous seeing them in private.

Irene raises her eyebrows, “are you guys performing for something?” she asks, pointing at the both of you. 

You shake your head, “I just wanted to learn for fun,” 

Wendy nods, “are you guys going to practice some more?” she asks, looking at the both you expectantly, “cause’, if you guys want to, go ahead. Our choreographer is going to be late so we have time to spare.”

Mark checks the time on his watch before shaking his head, realising it was already pretty late and didn’t want to disturb the girls with their schedule. 

“No, it’s fine, we have to go anyway. I don’t want to steal your hour,” he says politely.

Ever since Mark had debut years ago, it was very hard for this group to book the practice room. So, whenever they managed to get the room, they would often use the room until the next person comes in.

You and Mark start packing up your things as the girls settle down and starts stretching. 

The girls bid the both of you goodbyes as you quickly left the room. 

“Oh my god,” you gasped, your hands clutching onto your husband’s arm as he looks at you in astonishment. “I just met Red Velvet,” you say to the boy next to you. 

You hit his arm multiple times, “I literally met Red Velvet! I even talked to them, babe!” you squealed, hitting his arms harder. That was until Mark grabbed your hands for you to stop hitting his poor arm. 

“Y/N hasn’t met Red Velvet?” they ask. Mark shakes his head, no. “Why not?”

“I knew she liked Red Velvet but she never really asked me if she could meet them,” Mark explains, “and we had this conversation before- meeting the other people in my company,”

“What about?”

“Y/N told me that she didn’t want to take advantage of my privilege, even though when I told her it was fine,” Mark explains. “So she never really asked about wanting to meet Red Velvet, or any of the other people in my company.”

“Jeez- babe,” he chuckles, putting your hand down and instead wrapping his arm around your shoulder, tugging you closer to him. “You were never that excited when you see me,” he jokes. 

The both of you reach the ground floor, stepping out of the elevator. 

“That’s because you’re not the prettiest girl group in the world!” you reply cheekily, a smirk playing on your lips.

“How long have you been a fan of Red Velvet?”

You hum, thinking back all the years you have been listening to their songs and collecting their PC Cards. 

“I think it was a few months after debut?” you doubtfully reply. “It was when I had just came to Korea for school and one of their music was playing in a store, and I really liked it!”

Episode 43

“Ah, our Mark Lee! Where did you go?” the cast whined, tugging on his arms. 

Mark cackle shyly, hiding his face slightly, “I’ve been very busy these days~” he says shyly, “my group had just finished promoting our recent full album,” he explains.

The casts cheers. 

“I heard you guys won first for many awards!” one of them says, “congratulations to NCT! As expected, our talented group with many talents and visuals,” they compliment.

“Thank you,” Mark gives his signature grin, “actually, I felt bad for not being able to come on here for so long, so I actually brought our albums to gift it to you guys,” Mark says, reaching for the stacks of albums in the bag. 

He hands each one of them the signed and personalised albums to the casts. 

“I can’t wait to listen to this!”

“Is Y/N featuring in any of the songs?” they joke.

This time, the show started with you in the kitchen. You were cooking dinner since some of his members were coming over. 

Mark on the other hand was sitting in the living room. He was seated on the floor, with papers spread all over the table. He had one of his hand holding a pen, swirling it around, while the other was pressed against his cheek. 

“I wanted to produce a song with my own lyrics for this upcoming album,” Mark explains to the cast since they seemed to be a little confused. 

“Have you produced a song with your own lyrics before?”

He nods, “I have, but I received help from others. This time I want to make a song that only has my own lyrics,” Mark explains.

“I never really got to ask an idol this question- but, is it hard to have your songs to be featured in an album?” one of them asks. 

The spotlight was on Mark. 

Mark nods, “it really depends. They usually focus on the music itself- since lyrics can be changed, but if the lyrics are too personal, most of the time they don’t really let you put it in a group album.”

“Did your song manage to be in the album?” one asks. 

“Nope,” mark chuckles. 

The casts laughs with Mark. 

“Because it was too personal?”

Mark simply shrugs, and points at the screen to continue watching. 

A heavy sigh leaves past the boy’s lips. He was staring blankly at the piece of paper. 

The camera manages to capture everything that was written on the piece of paper. Messy scribbles was the only thing that could be seen. 

“Babe,” you called. Mark quickly looks up at you, a pout on his lips. “Make sure you clean the table before the guys come,” you tell him, pointing to the mess on the coffee table. 

This morning, Johnny had contacted Mark saying that he misses him and wants to visit. You quickly agreed, since you haven’t seen the boys in so long.

He hums, slamming his head softly on the coffee table, a groan coming out of him when he hit his forehead a little too hard. 

A small chuckle left your lips when you heard his groans, “inspiration will come, babe,” you advise as you wipe the plates, “be patient.”

Mark turns his head so his cheek was pressed against the table as he stares at you. 

“You look so pretty,” Mark mumbles, but you hear him clearly. 

“Does Mark compliment you often?”

You nod slightly, “I wouldn’t say, all the time,” you exaggerate, “but it was definitely enough for me to know he loves me,” you giggle.

Mark continues to stare at you as you work on the food you were making. He was so deeply in love with you that sometimes he wonders what life would be like if he never met you. 

He lays his eyes on you for the next 15 minutes. It definitely didn’t go unnoticed by you- but you had forgotten about it once you were properly focused on cutting the onions. 

With heart eyes, a sweet smile spreads across your husbands lips. 

The casts all coo at the romantic scene. 

Mark finally sits up straight. With a grin plastered on his face, he grabs a clean sheet of paper and starts writing his feelings down. Surprisingly, he didn’t need a break, he continued writing for the next 30 minutes, satisfied with the lyrics. 

“Did you write a song about Y/N?”

Mark nods, “I did, it was mostly how I felt about being with her.”

“Earlier you said that the song didn’t manage to be in the album, will you be posting the song on another platform?”

Mark scratches his head, uncertain, “I’ll have to ask my company about that,” he jokes.

Episode 47

“We’re finally back with our favourite couple! How are you, Mark?”

“Just fine, I’m preparing some things with my group, so I have been a little busy now a days,” Mark replies. 

The casts sighs, “you’ve been working really hard, Mark.”

Mark simply chuckles awkwardly, unsure of what to say. 

The show started with you sitting on the familiar chair in the building. 

“Oh? The chair seems familiar?”

You had one of your legs crossed over the other with your right hand, holding your phone. You were scrolling through Instagram, hoping it would lessen your boredom. 

After a few minutes, you put your phone down when you realised you’ve been scrolling for minutes now, but nothing had caught your eye on your feed. You let out an exhausted sigh, resting the palm of your hand against your cheek. 

15 minutes later, your eyes widen when you see the familiar boys step out of the elevator. 

You quickly stand up, walking up to the boys. 

“Y/N!” they called, “oh my god, it has been forever since I last saw you!”

You giggle. Your eyes search for your husband but he was no where to be seen. 

“He’s still upstairs, talking to the producer,” Johnny says when he notices you looking around. 

You send him a smile, “I see. Are you guys going back home now?”

The rest of the boys were already walking away after tapping your shoulder to bid you goodbye without interrupting your conversation with Johnny. 

“Jungwoo and Yuta are going to get dinner, the rest of us are heading home- it has been a long day, we’re all exhausted,” Johnny says dramatically.

The boy never fails to make you smile, “I know, Mark told me about your schedule.”

Johnny smiles, “also, Mark had a rough day,” he tells you. Your eyebrows raised in curiosity. You wondered what had happen. 

“Did you know that Johnny had told Y/N about your day?”

He shakes his head, “I didn’t know, but I am thankful for him for always looking out for me.”

It was only 30 minutes later when you saw your husband step out of the elevator. Instead of his usual jog, he was stomping towards your direction. With the way he was walking and the all black outfit- it made him look even more intimidating then he already was.

Johnny was right, he definitely had a bad day today.

“Hi, baby,” you say softly, when he finally stands in front of you. You softly rub his arm, hoping it would calm him down a little, “you okay?”

Mark only hums, tugging on his bag when you attempt to take it from him. “i’ll carry it,” he says. You kept quiet, not wanting to worsen his temper. 

The both of you quietly walk out of the building. 

“Can we take a walk?” you ask, looking up at your husband.

He looks down at you and raises his eyebrows. Truthfully, he was already exhausted, but he would do anything you wanted. Mark shrugs, going with the flow.

The both of you started your walk in silence. Your husband had both hands tucked in his pockets with his lips pursed. You took multiple glances at the boy, wondering how you should comfort him. 

After hesitating for a while, you wait until he has his hands out of his pockets. When you notice that he finally has his warm hands untucked, you instantly grab it in yours. 

A smile form on your lips, when you hold on tightly onto his hands. 

“Aw, she was trying to comfort you!”

“Wanna talk about it?” you speak up, tightening your grip on his hands. 

Mark smiles, “not really, just thankful that I have you,” he says. You feel his thumb softly stroke the back of your hand, “you’re too good to me, Y/N.”

You scoff, “what do you mean? You are literally my soulmate, whenever you fall, I go down with you,” you reassure him. You nudge his shoulder with yours, “I’ll always be the shoulder you can lean on. No matter how bad it is, I’ll always be by your side.”

“How do you usually comfort Mark during his bad days?”

“He doesn’t talk about his feelings often,” you say, letting out a short chuckle. “But it’s pretty obvious, he isn’t very discreet with his emotions,” you laugh, nudging the boy next to you. 

“Depending on how bad it is, I would try to leave him alone until he calls out for me.”

“Why won’t you talk about how you feel?”

“I have always grown up with this mindset- never give off negative energy to anyone who hasn’t done anything wrong,” he blurts out. “I feel like a burden whenever I would talk about my problems to anyone- not just Y/N.”

“I feel very thankful whenever he talks about his problems,” you say to the camera. “I feel proud that I am the one he could lean on.”

Episode 50

“Mark Lee is back!” 

Series of claps could be heard from the room. 

“I heard you had received multiple awards from MAMA!”

Another agrees, “that’s right! NCT won Favourite Male Group and Worldwide Fans' Choice Top 10! Congratulations to NCT!” 

Another series of claps filled the room. 

“Thank you so much! My group wouldn’t have received the award without all the loving support from all my fans,” Mark expresses his gratitude. 

The show started with you sitting on the couch comfortably. You were deeply concentrated on watching something in front of you. 

“What is she watching?”

The camera zooms out until the casts takes notice the television planted on the wall. The casts recognizes the ceremony playing on the television. 

You were waiting for your husband’s group to start performing so you can take videos and pictures. 

After watching the ceremony, you recognize the introduction to one of your husband’s songs. You sit up straight in excitement, fishing out your phone, ready to film his performance. 

You had purposely took bad photos of your husband so you could laugh at them later with him. 

15 minutes later, the performance ended. Even though you’re backstage, you still softly clapped at the end of his performance. 

“Everytime I see Mark perform, I feel so shocked that we have such a talented guy on our show,” one of them says, making Mark chuckle. 

“He was born to be a star,” another comments.

After a few more performances by other groups, it was time for the award ceremony. 

You were extremely anxious for this. You hoped all the times that Mark had came home in the middle of the night only to leave again early in the morning or how he would injure himself but would still perform with full energy for his fans would be worth it. 

You bit your lip anxiously, your palms had turned sweaty from the long wait of the awaited name. 

“The Best Male Group of 2020 goes to...” the announcer trails off, opening the card that held the winner. 

“Congratulations to BTS for being the Best Male Group of the year!”

You let out a huff, throwing your head back tiredly. 

“You seemed really stressed,”

You nod, agreeing with them, “truthfully, I have seen Mark work really hard this year. It pained me to see him suffer so much and not being able to tell anyone.”

“Next, let’s see the nominated groups for Favourite Male Group!” says the announcer. The screen fills with different groups with their names. 

You take a deep breath, sitting up again to watch the ceremony. Your lips purse in concentration.

“The Favourite Male Group of 2020 goes to...” the announcer trails off, opening the golden card. 

A smile forms on their lips, “Congratulations to NCT for being the Favourite Male Group of 2020!”

You let out a gasp, looking at the stylists who was also watching the ceremony. 

“Oh my god!” you squeal, “they said NCT, right? I didn’t hear it wrongly, right?” you ask everyone in the room. 

The stylists nods, “its NCT!”

Your hand goes over your mouth in shock. 

“Her reaction is so adorable,”

You watch the boys walk up on stage. Taeyong is the one to step forward to give his speech, followed by Johnny in english. 

Finally your husband steps up. 

“Wow,” he starts, his fans starts to scream louder. “this is so crazy. I want to start by thanking Lee Sooman for giving me the opportunity to be part of NCT. Next, thank you to our stylist and coordinator for the awesome outfits- we would never be able to win this award without the unique outfits and make up!” 

He takes a deep breathe, “and of course, our dearest fans. Thank you for always supporting us, and giving us the opportunity to be on stage with this award,” he smiles when he hears his fans cheers. “Lastly, my wife who has always been by my side even during my ugliest side. Thank you for never giving up on me always bringing the best out of me.”

A grin forms on your lips, you soon became flustered from the coos coming from around you. 

“I can’t wait to meet our little one soon. I love you, Y/N. Thank you,” he ends his speech, stepping off stage. 

“Wait! What do you mean little one?!”

“I have been pregnant for 15 weeks now,” you say happily. “We have been trying for a baby for a while now, and we are officially having a kid soon!”

The whole casts starts freaking out. 

“Why didn’t you tell us?!” they scolded Mark. 

“We would like to ask the fans for the upmost support,” Mark adds. “With that, this would be our last episode as a We Got Married Couple.”

“This is a huge surprise!”

“We had so much memories on the show,” Mark admits. 

“I had such a fun time on here, but for now, Mark and I had agreed that we want to put all of our focus on our baby,” you added.

“Wow... this is a happy ending,” the casts says. 

“We would like to thank Mark Lee and Y/N for their contribution to the show,” they added. 

“We really enjoyed watching you and Y/N being cute!”

“Thank you so much,” Mark bow, “it was an honour to come on this show,” Mark says, “I had so much fun, thank you so much for everything.”

“Thank you so much Mark. We hope you have a wonderful journey from now on and congratulations to your first child!”

[kalosstarters]

Fic: An Unexpected Encounter

Characters: Professor (not professor then) Kukui, Professor Oak, Ash Ketchum, Gary Oak

Summary: Koa Kukui has traveled to Pallet Town in order to start his Pokémon Journey in Kanto, and while he’s there, he meets someone who feels strangely familiar... 

A/N: This idea came to my mind many months ago but finally I found the time to finish this story. I love the SuMo episode where Celebi brings Ash back in time to inspire young Kukui, and when I remembered that Kukui also traveled in Kanto once canonically, I started thinking... what if the same also happened the other way around, without them knowing. So here’s the result. Keep in mind that Kukui was a kid when he met S&M era Ash, while in this fic he is a young adult while Ash is like 5, so no, he doesn’t know the connection (yet). Enjoy and please leave comments, it’s been /ages/ since I’ve last written anything Pokémon related!

Words: 2090+

[AO3 link]

...

“Hello, professor. It’s nice to finally meet you. My name is Koa Kukui.” A young man with his black hair under a cap and clothes that were slightly questionable for Kanto’s weather extended his hand to greet the region’s most well known Pokémon professor, Samuel Oak.

“Alola, Koa! Isn’t that what they say where you live?”

The young man chuckled at the comment.

“That is correct. I suppose your cousin has taught you a thing or two about our region already.”

“Yes indeed, he has. I make sure to visit him at least once a year because Alola is such a fascinating place. I was so surprised when I first saw your gigantic Exeggutor! And your Vulpix are ice type, right?”

“They are,” Kukui confirmed. “It is kind of ironic when you think about the weather differences between these two regions, but it starts making more sense when you learn that the Alolan Vulpix’ natural habitat is Mount Lanakila.”

“Yes, I once read Samson’s article about that.” Oak nodded. “But I don’t think you came here to educate me on the Alolan variants. Samson informed me that a very promising young trainer wishes to participate in our league challenge. What brought you this far from your home, though?”

Kukui’s mouth twitched slightly when he heard the compliment. Apparently Samson Oak did tell his cousin more than just Pokémon puns.

“I am interested in learning more about different kinds of Pokémon moves, but I don’t think Alola alone can give me enough challenge and information to complete my research. People there prefer playing and just relaxing with their Pokémon instead of battling. But hopefully our new school will inspire more young trainers to start battling more seriously and our competitive scene will grow. Once I get my degree finished, I might start teaching there too. However, my ultimate dream is having a league of our own in Alola but that seems a bit, sorry for the pun, Farfetch’d at this point.” 

“You’re an ambitious one, aren’t you?” Oak said with amusement.

“I guess you could say that.” Kukui rubbed the back of his neck.

“Please stay that way,” Oak stated. “Remember that we Kantonians weren’t this serious about battling either back in the day. But the new generation, like our new champion Lance, always brings something new to the table. It sounds like you’re trying to achieve many different goals at once. I remember also being like that when I was younger…”

“Some people say I’m crazy for trying to Tackle so many things in such a short time but I can’t help it. This might sound a bit silly but I’ve been secretly itching to compete in the Indigo League ever since I was a kid. A boy I once met told me that he had battled in different Pokémon leagues and I remember wishing that I could do that too. I guess that thought has in a way stuck with me to this day.”

“Oh. That’s interesting. I think it’s a totally valid reason to want to travel here.” Oak’s eyes focused on his watch for a moment. Kukui imagined that with that many Pokémon in his lab, he probably had a very strict schedule. “By the way, did you bring any Pokémon with you?”

“Just my Incineroar,” Kukui replied. “He’s been with me since I was a kid. I left my other Pokémon in a friend’s care for a time being.”

“I see. I take it you’re planning to catch some new Pokémon here in Kanto, then.”

“Yes, that’s what I’m hoping to do.”

“In that case, we should probably start here.” Professor Oak pointed at three Pokéballs that were put on display on his work desk. Before Kukui managed to take any of the pokéballs into his hands, though, two kids ran into the room unannounced.

“Woah, are you gonna pick your starter?” the first one, with brown hair and clear resemblance to Professor Oak asked.

“What will you pick, what will you pick?” the other one, a boy with black hair and unique lightning shaped markings on his cheeks asked. There was something weirdly familiar about him even though Kukui wasn’t sure what made him think that way.

The boys were both still very young, according to Kukui’s estimation, maybe 4 or 5 years old, and they weren’t lacking energy. They kept staring at him intensely as he considered his options.

“Boys! It’s not polite to interrupt us when we are having a meeting!” Professor Oak scolded them. “I’m sorry, Koa, this is my grandson and his friend who lives nearby. I’ve told them that when I’m dealing with work related things they should not disturb me… but as you can see, they do not listen.”

“It’s OK.” Kukui laughed, waving his hand. “I still remember what it was like to be a kid. If I had been living in a place like this, you bet I would have been so curious about each and every Pokémon around me.”

“Alright, then,” Oak decided to let it be. “Well, I guess these boys are dying to know which starter you’ll choose, so, go ahead and make your decision.”

“You should pick Squee-tle!” Oak’s grandson exclaimed.

“Everyone knows that Cha-man-deh is the best!” his friend insisted.

Kukui was amused by how the boys pronounced the Pokémon’s names, but instead of mentioning that aloud, he took the third pokeball, with a tiny leaf sticker on the surface, into his hands.

“You know what, boys? I think I disagree with you both. I myself think that Bulbasaur is the best Kanto starter. Come out, Bulbasaur!”

A red light flashed in the room and a Pokémon appeared in front of them.

“Bulba! Saur!”

“Wow, it’s so cool!” the black haired boy exclaimed, having already forgotten that he supposedly preferred Charmander. “Look at this bulb on its back!” He started poking it and Kukui could see some kind of powder starting to float out of it.

“Be careful, kiddo!” He warned. “That could be poisonous or even cause paralysis!”

“But… but…” The boy didn’t have time to say more because he fell asleep on the lab floor faster than Kukui could say ‘Litten’.

“Well… I guess we now know the first move this Bulbasaur knows. Sleep Powder,” Kukui said awkwardly as he called the Pokémon back into its ball and lifted the sleeping boy from the floor. Professor Oak showed him a couch where he could let the boy rest while his grandson was jumping around him, asking Oak if he was going to be OK.

“Calm down, Gary, the powder will wear off maybe in an hour or so and he’ll be just fine. You guys have been in much worse incidents,” the professor noted.

Kukui wondered what kind of incidents those had been, but as he set the boy down, he made a solemn promise to be more careful with his Pokémon from then on when there were kids around.

…

“Oh, you’re finally awake!” Oak’s grandson, Gary, said when his friend opened his eyes about an hour later. He had been waiting with Kukui the whole time while Oak had gone off to feed the Pokémon he was taking care of. “We’ve been waiting for aaaages.”

“What happened?” the boy asked slightly drowsily. “Why am I here?”

“It was Bulbasaur’s Sleep Powder,” Kukui responded. “You got some of it into your system and fell asleep.”

“It was really effective, then!” the boy said happily, quickly shaking off his drowsiness.

“That’s one way to look at it,” Kukui laughed before getting serious again. “I am sorry, though. I should have warned you earlier. Bulbasaur sometimes extracts those powders when you poke its bulb.”

“It’s fine! One time I tried to ride one of Professor Oak’s Tauros. That didn’t end well,” the boy reminisced.

“Oh, what happened?” Kukui asked.

“I fell and broke some bones. They had to take me to the hospital. But I’m all good now!” the boy told him, like an incident like that was an everyday occurrence for him.

“Wow, sounds like you have a tendency to get into trouble, young man. Where I come from, Tauros are used as Ride Pokémon, but they can be really fast and unpredictable when they want to, so you need to have some practice before you’re allowed to ride them on your own.”

“Yeah… Well, the professor said we shouldn’t go near them… but he was out somewhere and Gary and I were bored so we wanted to see who would be a faster Tauros rider. I won because Gary didn’t manage to climb up his Tauros.”

“Hah, that’s only because I knew it was a stupid idea!” Gary claimed.

“He’s lying,” the other boy pouted.

“Alright, boys, let’s use Calm Mind” Kukui said before they started a bigger argument. “So, you spend a lot of time here in the lab, don’t you? You must really love Pokémon.”

“We do!” the boys answered in unison.

“Funny, I guess I’m a Psychic type because I knew that,” Kukui chuckled. “Are you thinking about becoming trainers when you’re older?”

“Yes, of course!” Gary answered without any hesitation.

“Yes, I’d like to…” the other boy said, not nearly as certain. Something about his tone caught Kukui’s attention. He couldn’t say he knew this boy very well yet because they had only exchanged a few sentences so far, but based on his earlier comments he wasn’t lacking confidence or will to learn more about Pokémon. That’s why it seemed a bit strange that he wasn’t as eager about starting his own journey as his friend seemed to be.

“Hmmm? You’d like to? Is there something hindering you?” Kukui asked. “If you want to tell me, of course.”

“It’s… my mum. Every time I tell her I want to be a Pokémon trainer when I’m bigger, she gets all weird.”

“Weird?”

“Yeah. She starts mopping or peeling the potatoes like she doesn’t hear me. I don’t think she wants me to become a Pokémon trainer.”

Apparently Oak’s grandson enjoyed sharing a good drama because when he realized that his friend wasn’t going to spill the beans, he announced: “It’s because of his dad. He started his Pokémon journey a looong time ago and never came back home.”

Kukui wondered briefly what exactly that meant; if the dad had simply left them or if he had died on his journey. Either way, he couldn’t help but feel bad for this boy he had just barely met.

“Gary! You didn’t have to tell him that!” the boy exclaimed.

“Grandpa always tells me you’re supposed to tell the truth,” Gary argued.

“Yeah, but…”

“Okay, I think I’ve heard enough,” Kukui stopped them. “It doesn’t matter to me why his mother thinks that way. There are still many years left before you’re old enough to become a trainer, right?”

“Yeah.”

“Well, take advantage of that time. Hang out here with the Pokémon whenever you can and show your mother how much you love them. If you still want to become a trainer when you’re old enough, she will understand. She’s probably just worried about you.”

“You think she would let me go?” the boy asked, sounding more hopeful.

“If you know how to pull from the right strings, she will,” Kukui winked at him. 

“Awesome!” Suddenly the boy seemed to throw all his worries away and he asked: “Hey, hey, do you have any other Pokémon with you right now? I’d love to see them!”

“Sorry, I only have one with me here in Kanto and I left him at the Pokémon Center in Viridian City before I came here,” Kukui apologized. “I wanted to make sure he’s in good shape when we start our journey.”

“Owww, that’s too bad. But maybe you can show it another time.”

“Yeah, maybe.” Kukui smiled. “And who knows, maybe one day you and I will get to battle each other. Just keep on dreaming!”

“I will!” the boy promised.

Soon after that Professor Oak showed up again and told the boys to not annoy their guest who probably wanted to get going already. Kukui just waved his hand dismissively at him, telling him the boys were not bothering him. As they ran out to continue playing and he himself prepared to leave, he couldn’t get rid of a weird feeling. It was like he knew the dark haired boy already even though he had no idea how that was possible. Something also told him that this probably wouldn’t be the last time he would hear about these boys.

[smooth-goat]

1, 3, 4, 7, 8, 9, 10 (is it hats? 👀), 11, 14, 15, 16, 19, 20, 21, 26, 30 sorry for so many lol

aafjdskal thank u for so many !! its totally fine and encouraged in fact

Art programs you have but don't use

I still have the downloads for a full adobe suite--I needed them for college. But I've since let my subscriptions lapse when I dropped out.

3. What ideas come from when you were little?

I've had this one novel idea bouncing around in my head since I was eleven, where in the 1300s this massive trade city in modern-day Pakistan was set under strict quarantine as the Black Plague came over from the Gobi Desert westward. Years pass, better trading routes are found, and the city is lost--except the survivors of the plague's descendants still inhabit it as a small village, unknown to the outside world. Now, around 1909, a disgraced Russian archaeologist and his niece go down to this lost city in hopes of saving his job, only to find there's still people there. The story is about the little family hosting them and the line between academic study and colonialism. It's always been on a back burner because any real development would require paid consultants, but I do privately write little things for it.

4. Fav character/subject that's a bitch to draw

Hmmmm I think young children. I don't have a lot of experience drawing them so it's a struggle for me to communicate their age with proper proportions.

7. A medium of art you don't work in but appreciate

Digital, really. I do work in it sometimes but really only when making animatics/animation, since I don't have a cost-effective setup to do so otherwise.

8. What's an old project idea that you've lost interest in?

A few years ago, I spent a great deal of time on an animatic for TAZ Balance set to "Ball Cap" by Mother Mother. I had almost the whole thing in rough boards but lost steam refining them.

9. What are your file name conventions?

Just a brief description, mostly. Not really ever a proper ~artsy~ title. Examples would include "Sea Lion.jpeg" or "sisu v_01.png" the "v_01" stands for "version 1". For animatics I put keep everything in the auto-generated folders and just rely on the little image preview to keep things straight. My writing is filed under the actual published title, or a wip title. An example of that would be "moominpappa gets wrecked.docx" which, if properly titled, would surely be turned into something more moody and pretentious.

10. Favorite piece of clothing to draw

Yes it is hats!! For technical or research aspects I love all sorts of different clothing. When I'm working out clothing patterns I love figuring out complex construction details like 1890s cycling skirts or the flap neckline in the Herjolfsnes find undershirt. But strictly drawying: it's hats. The swoopy lines are so much fun and they add so much character and mood.

11. Do you listen to anything while drawing? If so, what?

I am a creature of ADHD; I have to have something on when I'm drawing. Sometimes it's a youtube video that I'm just listening to. I also have Spotify playlists I've made for different characters or relationships or AUs I have. I've spent most of my time on the Hunter animatic listening to Innuendo Studios' series "The Alt-Right Playbook".

14. Any favorite motifs?

No shocker here: disability. In my more private drawings I focus a lot on chronic pain and interactions with the inaccessible physical world. I'm also a sucker for Victorian floriography, as anyone who's browsed my ao3 works' titles could notice. Also in unpublished works (visual and written) I like working in the intersection of disability and sex. About how the body moves in sexual acts, how to accommodate for disability, the extreme vulnerability sex places on a disabled person, and the interaction of pain and pleasure that happens when sex is a physically painful act.

15. *Where* do you draw?

For digital art I have this whole setup at my desk, where the drawer is pulled out for my tablet and my laptop on the desk proper--all for Good Grade In Occupational Therapy purposes. (really because I'm 5'2 and the height of the chair I'd need to comfortably draw on the desk doesn't let my feet touch the floor). Sketching I do on the couch or in bed. I bring my sketchbook around a lot and will do it on the go. Sometimes when I'm going on drives, I pull over with a good vista and draw there sitting on the hood.

16. Something you are good at but don't really have fun doing

colored pencil!! 1000%. i do Not like working with colored pencils. The grip required for them is too small without buying a separate grip, which I have to take off and on every time I switch colors, which is Often. and they work sooo slowlyyyy. i like media like watercolor, oil, and markers--stuff that lays down lots of color quickly and can be refined later. i like a certain messiness or rawness. paint impasto, visible canvas grain, fingerprints, water splotches, etc

19. Do you eat/drink when drawing? If so, what?

Not always sketching because I'll do that in lots of places. Digitally yes always. I know I shouldn't because of the spill risk but I am a simple man and I always need to have a little drink. Usually soda or hibiscus La Croix.

20. Something everyone else finds hard to draw but you enjoy

I really like drawing hands! I know they're the classic artists' bane but sux to be you because I have lots of fun with them. (For the longest time I thought I was messing them up because I'd use my own hands as reference and they'd come out looking Wrong. Years later I've realized the Wrongness I was seeing was a combination of my hypermobility and large arthritis knuckles.)

21. Art styles nothing like your own but like anyways

oh, lots! the hyper-stylized, cartoony stuff is so interesting to me. the functions of digital art are largely a mystery to me so it's just fascinating how well people use the medium. Especially the color-block lineless art that reminds me of papercut art. And I've always enjoyed how the Professor Layton games approached character design--a great deal of stylization and caricature which is so different from my own drawings of people. i also really enjoy 17th century english woodblock prints. when i paint its usually kind of impressionistic with lots of blurry lines, so the stark black and white and geometric shapes they have is so different and cool to me.

26. What's a piece that got wildly different interpretation from what you intended?

wrt art I can't really think of any! most of the finished pieces I've done were for classes and therefore weren't highly-creative projects open to a great degree of interpretation.

wrt writing For Sure that time i got accused of being a pro-lifer when I wrote "Ginger Tea and Parsley Oil" lmao. i have no idea how any competent reading of the text would come to that conclusion

30. What piece of yours do you think is underrated?

wrt my visual art, most of it isn't published online but rather shared in art classes or with friends. In those cases, I think the response was pretty appropriate relative to time spent and my own opinions of it. From what's been posted online, definitely my icon! I probably spent 50 hours on that drawing cause it's actually two complete drawings laid on top of each other, with the top one torn to reveal the sepia one beneath. But ain't that just the way--whatever you spend the most time on will never get as much acclaim as what you only spend a few minutes sketching. wrt my writing, most underrated is probably "Black Cohosh". It's the piece with the second-lowest hit count but also one of my favorites. I get why it's low--it's dark and moody in a fandom that enjoys fluff and focuses a lot on canon/oc interaction. But I really love it fjdskla

[ghostofbambifanfiction]

Part 1 of ?????

Started writing this fic a while ago and then lost faith in it. Should I continue? Feel bad for not posting much lately so I thought I'd share this. Read on and weigh in.

COME OUT TONIGHT

NO

You don't have to fucking shout?

Said the pot to the kettle?

Oh you grandmother The caps were an accidental by-product of voice-to-text Blame Siri if you're going to blame anyone

You have a Samsung Galaxy S20.

HAD. It got smashed. Worst luck. Listen, come out with me tonight.

Urghhhhhhhhhhhhhh I'm tired!

https://www.boots.com/wellness/vitaminsandsupplements/vitamins-supplements-shop-by-ingredient/echinacea

Hah (indifferent)

Just come out with me! Isaac has to go see some godawful student performance of the Antigone in wherever the fuck Chichester is and it's Sirius's flatmate's birthday party so I have to go and I don't know any of his weird mates

You don't HAVE to go.

Have to/want to Semantics

I'm not in a birthday party mood. I'm having a stressful week. My arse has been tense since Tuesday.

I will wade into the deep and massage your arse if I have to, just come It's a swank pad in Belgravia! I bet they'll have all sorts of expensive nibbles!

I read that as expensive nipples.

Those too!

Partying it up with the children of wealthy Tories. Sounds super fun.

Just come out with me, for fuck I'll pick you up at 7 and we can steal their silverware if it's boring as the grave

URGH I'll go but I'm NOT dressing up!

You don't have to dress up!

FINE!

*

take the drawings down please i'm begging you i'm actually begging you

Nah mate

siriusssssssss pleeeeeease

Nah

PLEASE

Nah

PLEASE ffs it's MY birthday!!!! there are going to be PEOPLE there! standing around! AT EYE LEVEL

I don't see what the problem is.

EVERYONE will see what the problem is! they literally will not be able to IGNORE what the problem is!

Sounds like a recipe for lively discussion to me tbh

that is NOT what i want people talking about at my birthday!

If I take them down, I'll have to take all the nails out and that'll leave nail marks all over the walls. It would be unsightly.

MORE UNSIGHTLY THAN YOUR DICK, SIRIUS?

My dick is bewitching.

DIE

*

She walks in expecting to find herself the infiltrator of a Made in Chelsea/Royal Ascot/Henley Regatta netherworld, filled with a gaggle of giggling, SW-postcode socialites wielding suspiciously powder-edged Harrods Amex cards in the place of horses and boats, but that's not what actually greets her on the other side of the lacquered front door.

What greets her is really quite ordinary.

Aside from the naked drawings of Kingsley's mate, which aren't.

Otherwise, the whole affair is pretty relaxed. People her age are clustered in their small groups, swigging beers. There's a table of oven-heated party foods, salty snacks and rapidly depleting ramekins of guac. She spies more band shirts than there are dress shirts. There's a round of Fortnite in full swing on the TV.

It's all just...startlingly normal. A normal birthday party.

And that's sort of embarrassing, really.

Where are all the visible Tory toffs, she wonders? Where is the braying laughter? The Eton alumni reunion? The glimpse of hunting-happy tweed and shotgun barrels as a coat cupboard door swings shut? Where's the indelible air of sneering superiority, of "we're richer and more privileged and better than you, so fuck the NHS and death to foxes!" that she'd been expecting? There's a fucking Henry Hoover in the corner of the hall, for Christ's sake. Lily came here to smile through her teeth at them all, to listen to the champagne problems privilege that bubbled from their lips and tell herself that she was the one who knew better, who thought better. Her plain white tee and skinny jeans and scuff-toed, high-top trainers were supposed to be a statement, a subtle setting-apart, but she's not even the most underdressed person in the room.

She pre-judged a house full of people. What's that about?

There's a lesson to be found in this. Perhaps.

*

James covered all of the dicks in Paw Patrol stickers that he bought from the newsagent on his way home from his mum's, but Sirius peeled them all off while he was taking a soothing lavender bath, so what's the bloody point in birthdays anyway?

It's early in the evening, and he's wedged—against his will—between the dining room bar and Shane Ruttle, who has just pointed at one of the many lamentable dicks and asked, "Is this one of yours?" which James kind of wants to thump him for. It's bad enough that he looks like a madman who stuffed his house with naked drawings of his brother, now people are actually assuming that he drew the damn things, even though most of the compositions are appallingly far beneath his skill level. He's a professional illustrator, for the love of god, and Shane is really standing before him like the posturing prick he is, asking him if he's the one who drew Sirius with one arm disproportionately longer than the other.

He knows that he should cheer up.

It is his birthday. There is cake.

Good cake, too, not the kind that gets buried in too-thick fondant that he has to pick off before he can eat what's underneath.

The problem is, there's also a party, and his friends are his friends, Peter and Sirius included, and Peter and Sirius can both get drunk much faster than James can. When Peter and Sirius get drunk, serious injuries tend to follow, Remus tends to fuck off in a flash and James tends to be the one who calls for an ambulance or mothers them back to health—physical, mental or otherwise. He has just turned twenty-six, and these repeated, drunkenly dramatic medical emergency scenes are starting to wear a little thin.

Can't a man get comfortably drunk and have a laugh at his own birthday party?

No, he can't, because Peter's already halfway to trashed, wobbling unsteadily towards the French doors that lead to the terrace, wearing that look on his face that says I'm definitely going to vomit or maybe even shit myself like I did on that one night we all spent in Munich with the Belgian handball team and the creepy tour guide who couldn't keep his sleazy hands to himself. For the sake of sparing the lawn such a punishment, James hastily removes himself from Shane, grabs Peter by the collar, shoves him in the direction of the downstairs loo and retreats to the safety of the living room, where there are, at least, no naked drawings of Sirius gracing the walls.

Most of the people in here are transfixed by Saffy Stephens, who is down to the last three in her Fortnite game and cursing like a sailor, but there are a small pile of birthday cards on the end table where James and Sirius normally keep their keys. He perches on the sofa arm, sets his half-drunk beer bottle on the carpet, pushes his dark, disheveled hair away from his forehead and begins leafing through them. It's a necessity when one lives with Sirius, who thinks nothing of swiping gift cards when the mood strikes him and he's had enough to drink.

They're mostly from his female friends, and all pretty standard, until he reaches the middle of the pile and finds a card bearing a picture of a moustached tabby and the caption: Have a Purr-fect Birthday!

The inscription inside is written in a lovely, swirling hand.

To Jasper/Jack/Jason/maybe Ja Rule?/J-something idk

(see above: everything I've learned about you from the friend* I came here with, verbatim)

(*who can't remember your name)

Happy Birthday! Thank you for (not) specifically inviting me, a stranger, to your party to celebrate this momentous event in your life. Please enjoy this festive card/social nicety/convention from me to you. My friend brought rum which you may prefer.

I'll be around. Not that you'll know.

LE

James lowers the card and twists on the sofa arm at once, eyes darting around the room in search of its author, as if they might be laying in wait to watch him read it and see how he reacts. Nobody appears to have ducked behind the couch, however, so the situation merits further scrutiny.

Obviously, he needs to meet this person.

A mystery! At his birthday party!

He perks right up after that.

*

She's coming out of the downstairs loo when a short, blonde man in a garish Hawaiian shirt barrels past her and pukes all over the chequerboard tiled floor, narrowly missing her jeans.

"Oh no," he moans into his wet hands. "Oh no—"

"There there, mate," says Lily consolingly, never one to judge somebody for getting drunk early at a party. She pats him on the back before squeezing past him and rejoining Kingsley, who is standing in one of this meandering Georgian house's many hallways, chatting to a bloke in a houndstooth sweater vest and holding two glasses of something very, very sparkly that she must try at once.

"It's like...it's like everything and nothing at the same time," Houndstooth Bloke is saying when Lily draws close, gesturing to a huge canvas painting of a rain-soaked fairground at night.

"Is it?" Kingsley asks.

"Mmm. Very." Houndstooth shakes his shoulders like he's slipping out of a robe. "Meant to be esoteric, I suppose."

That sounds suspiciously like pretentious bullshit to Lily, who doesn't find the concept of a merry looking fairground all that difficult to absorb. Kingsley knows more about the art world than she does, but he must agree with her assessment because he grunts and shoves her glass into her hand when she stops beside him, and more roughly than she deserves, as if she's the one who landed him in this mess of a conversation to begin with.

Trust him to find himself stuck with the only dick (not etched by a 4B Steadtler graphite pencil) in the building, and trust her to be stuck with the person who got himself stuck with King.

"What are we talking about?" she asks brightly, just to fuck with him.

"Drink your champagne, there's a good little hen," King mutters, his teeth clenched together, hallway lights bouncing off the smoothly waxed dome of his bald head.

"We've been discussing this piece." Houndstooth nods to the painting, but his limpid eyes narrow on Lily's face. "Christ, you're very redheaded, aren't you?"

It's decided. She'll wait 'til Houndstooth is drunk and trip him up with Henry Hoover's hose.

"Ergo soulless, yes," she agrees.

"And you...enjoy that?" he asks, as if being redheaded is her profession.

"Very much, thanks."

"Hmmp. Well. I came here with Saffron," he announces, pronouncing it Sef-ron. As if Lily is supposed to know who that is. "Platonically, of course. Actually, we're some sort of cousins, I think. What do you think the artist is trying to convey?"

He's very pointedly asking her, so Lily blinks at the painting, her eyes on the outstretched arm of a child on the carousel.

"I like the pretty colours," she decides aloud.

"Right," says Houndstooth, "but that's not—"

"And the lights, too. The lights are really pretty."

"But—"

"I love funfairs, actually," she brightly continues, finding a strange satisfaction in playing dumb in front of Houndstooth and his overbleached fade. Although she does really like the colours. "Haven't been to one in years!"

"Yes, good, whatever, but what is the artist trying to convey?"

"What artist?" comes a voice from behind them.

Lily glances over her shoulder and finds herself looking up at the man whose penis she's spent the past thirty minutes avoiding eye contact with, though he is taller, better proportioned and infinitely more beautiful than any of those crudely drawn depictions could possibly convey. He is also beplumed and bejewelled like a pirate, wearing a sumptuous velvet jacket over a loose white shirt, numerous rings on his fingers and an assortment of silver chains around his slender neck, while his grey eyes and elegantly high-set cheekbones are framed by a tumble of black hair that genuinely looks like silk.

The man is so beautiful, in fact, that Lily immediately wonders why he's been taking sketches home from the life drawing class that he and Kingsley pose for—hence their acquaintance and Lily's presence at this party—when nothing she's seen tonight has done him any justice.

Most happily, his penis is tucked safely out of sight.

"Alright, Sirius?" says King.

"Alright, Marvel?" Sirius claps a hand to the taller man's massive shoulder. Kingley's muscles bulge in a way that cannot be hidden by modern habiliments. "What are we talking about?"

"Not much." Houndstooth looks put out by the arrival of yet another person. "We were just mesmerised by this piece."

Lily refrains from gesturing to the painting with both hands and a "ta-dah!" choosing instead to sip her champagne.

It's very good champagne. Mmm. Yes.

"Oh, yeah, it's really something," Sirius agrees. He brushes past Kingsley and runs a finger over the illegible squiggle of a signature on the canvas. His nails are beautifully manicured. "Local guy, young up-and-comer. I assume you've heard of Algernon?" he asks Houndstooth, fixing him with a steely-eyed stare.

"Er, yes." Houndstooth's gaze slides from Sirius to the painting. "I know him."

Sirius's eyebrows lift. "Know him personally?"

"Well—"

"That's so weird, I heard he never speaks to people."

Houndstooth chews on the inside of his cheek, weighing up the challenge. "How…funny."

"Funny?"

"Oh, nothing. It's just, I know I've spoken to him before, and since you've bought his painting I assumed that you'd have—"

"That is funny, actually," Sirius interrupts, "because the artist is my brother, and Algernon is the name of his cat."

Kingsley has been tugging on his earring and almost rips it out of his ear as his body convulses, champagne spraying from his nostrils, while an alarming red flush sweeps across Houndstooth's face and he begins to sputter on his own self-importance. Sirius has clearly decided that he's done with all of that noise, however, because he turns back to Lily instead, looking her up and down with great and sudden interest.

"Who's this then?" he asks Kingsley, cocking his head to one side. "James's present?"

The champagne glass swings down and Lily fixes him with a deadpan stare. "Excuse me?"

Sirius slants a grin at Kingsley, a quick flash of teeth. "This one's queenly, isn't she?"

Kingsley wipes his nose with the back of his hand and laughs again. "Hardly."

"This is Primark, mate," Lily retorts, tugging on her t-shirt.

"Queenliness is a state of mind," says Sirius, "not a state of wardrobe."

"You had me marked down as a prostitute not ten seconds ago."

"Oh, that. I was only joking," he sighs, and grips her arm at the elbow, his long fingers cool against her skin. "But still, you're far too attractive to stand here talking to this clown. Come with me and I'll find you someone better."

*

James's friends are useless.

And drunk. Useless and drunk—or sort of drunk, in Saffy's case. Remus is certainly already pissed, but Remus is on meds so often that he drinks but once in a blue moon. One cocktail is usually enough to set him off, and he's been hard at the gin since he turned up with Peter at six.

"I don't know anyone with those initials," Saffy declares, once she has read, examined and even sniffed the birthday card for clues. "Except for Lisa Edelstein."

"Who's Lisa Edelstein?"

"Cuddy from House," says Remus, lowering the negroni from which he has been drinking deeply.

James pulls a face. "What the fuck is a Cuddy?"

"Oh, actually, it could mean le?" Remus suggests.

"Yes!" Saffy points at him like he might be onto something. "Like the French word for the?"

"Exactly, like—"

"It doesn't mean that!" James interrupts, unwilling to allow such profanity in his home. "That doesn't make sense, why would somebody sign their name as the?"

"Now you're asking me to explain how French people think?" says Saffy derisively, adjusting her bra strap beneath that burnt orange waistcoat she loves, the one that makes her look like she's directing a pornographic movie in the 70s when she pairs it with her tortoiseshell-framed aviators. It clashes wildly with her electric blue buzz-cut. "Am nooooo drunk enough for that."

"They could be one of those one word moniker pop stars, I suppose," Remus pipes up, smiling slyly. "You know, like Madonna?"

They think James doesn't realise that they're taking the piss out of him, but neither of them are sober enough to attempt their gambit with any kind of subtlety or grace.

"You know that's actually her real Christian name?" says Saffy.

Remus turns towards her with interest. "What, Madonna?"

"Yeah!"

"Really?"

"Yeah!" Saffy repeats. "I thought it couldn't possibly be her real name because, I mean, Madonna, yeah? But then I looked it up and apparently that's the name her mummy gave her, just goes to show—"

"I'm sorry," James interrupts, "but is Madonna relevant to this conversation?"

"Yes, always," says Saffy.

"She's an international pop megastar," Remus seconds.

James stares at his friend incredulously. "Drinking really chips away at your wit, y'know?"

"Does it?" Remus grins lazily and jiggles his cocktail in the air. "Oh, well, I'm negronly joking."

Saffy does a spit-take without the spit and clings helplessly to Remus's shoulder as she laughs, knees buckling, bangles tinkling, but James fights his own urge to start snickering.

"It's not that funny," he lies, and Remus eyes him with an alarmingly teacher-like shrewdness, despite the tellingly intoxicated flush that has crept into his thin, freckled face.

James's love of puns is tragically well known.

"You didn't get it." Remus points at his drink. His speech is starting to slur. "This is a negroni, what I said was—"

"Yeah, I got that part, I just—"

"Jesus fuck, look at her!" Saffy suddenly hisses, staggering sideways into Remus and sending him into the wall in a flurry of giggles—Remus giggling?—her voice hushed and urgent. "Who the hell is that?!"

James does look, following the direction of Saffy's gaze. Sirius has just entered the living room, casually clutching the elbow of a……

……goddess.

An actual. Like. Goddess.

A goddess. In James's house. In his living room. In the place where he eats his chocolate boulder cereal and rewatches Scrubs (even season 9, which is hilarious, and very unfairly disparaged by Joe Public) on Saturday mornings.

She's a goddess. A real one, and cleverly disguised as a mortal, sure, with her slouchy white t-shirt and her big hoop earrings and her light blue jeans that are torn at the knees, wearing her shoulder-length red hair half up, half down and slightly messy, but that doesn't hide what she is.

"Oh my god," he murmurs. His heart is pounding all of a sudden, which is so...utterly bloody stupid, but Saffy's right, bloody look at her, Jesus fuck.

"Surely she can't be with Sirius?" Saffy murmurs back.

"No, she—" He watches Sirius lean down to mutter something in the redhead's ear. A ghost of a laugh flits across her beautiful face. "She's not his—he isn't—"

"D'you think—"

"No, I—"

"Good," says Saffy firmly. She lets go of Remus and rises, lengthening her spine. It is a battle stance of some sort, presumably. "Because I saw her first."

"No!" James cries, wounded, and the redhead shoots him a curious look with a pair of eyes that are startlingly emerald green, even from all the bloody way over here. He spins to face Saffy and lowers his voice, face burning. "It's my house!"

"What are you arguing here, ownership rights?"

"No but it—it's my birthday!" James retorts, jabbing at his own chest. "And, actually, and—"

"It's in the bloody post!"

"—you didn't get me a present!" he finishes in triumph, not that he knows what he's arguing for, because the likelihood is that his tongue will glue itself to the roof of his mouth if he even dares to look in her direction one more time. "Plus I set you up with Vanya Petrich, with whom, as I recall, you enjoyed four years—"

"Stop throwing that in my face!"

"—four blissful years—"

"Is it my fault that you've never fancied any girl I've set you up with?!"

"—promised me an Easter ham for setting you up with her and I never got it—"

"So now you'll trade a woman for a ham?" Saffy accuses, though her face is too lit up, her brown eyes too crinkled at the corners—she's having fun with this and she isn't going to fool him and she knows it. "That's so low, even—"

"Don't start with that," James scathingly cuts in. "You offered me Sean Connery's autograph for Bonnie Grogan's number—"

"Which you never gave me!"

"Because you forged the bloody signature!"

"And now she's bloody married!"

"Yeah, well, Isabella wouldn't give me a counterfeit present, would she?" he retorts, and Saffy lets her shoulders drop, smirking. "This is pointless, Saf, we can't—"

"She's just left with Sirius," Remus informs them, and burps.

[khentkawes]

Tony Stark-antis need to learn some chill and basic narrative comprehension skills. Like really? Again with this bullshit?

Dude, we are ONE episode into Falcon and the Winter Solider and people are already using it as an excuse to resurrect anti-Tony Stark bad takes. Like... WTF fandom? Do we really have to go through this with every single post-Endgame mcu project? Really? When are ya all gonna learn some comprehension skills and actually pick up on what the narrative is trying to say?

Say it with me: the bank loan scene was a not-very-subtle jab at systemic racism and the way black veterans have been treated in American for decades. It’s not an excuse to anti on about how “tOnY sTaRk DiDnT pAy ThE aVeNgErS CuZ hE’s A eVIL bILLIonAiRe!”

Are you all so afraid of talking about systemic racism that you have to blame Tony Stark for Sam not getting a bank loan? Really? After a year of BLM protests and extensive awareness-raising for systemic racism, and y’all still don’t get it?

That’s the real world issue that the narrative was trying to lay out, and it’s the in-universe explanation for that scene, which is trying to address out-of-universe real-world issues. But now let me be petty and go back to the in-universe issues of whether Sam got paid... because this whole take is just pissing me off and I have to rant. So...

Sam hasn’t had a paying job in seven years, and he chose to leave the Avengers when he defied the Sokovia Accords because he blindly follows everything Cap says without ever thinking for himself. He’s been badly written ever since he showed up at the end of Age of Ultron. And that bad writing means he’s just been playing as Cap’s lackey, and in doing so, he CHOSE to leave the Avengers, to reject a government paycheck, and take his chances on the run for two years as a fugitive. So yeah. Two years, no job, no pay. And as far as we can tell, he didn’t do a whole lot of awesome saving-the-world in those two years either. He was just hiding out with Cap and maybe punching a couple of low-level terrorists or something .There certainly weren’t any alien invasions that he stopped in that time. And after that, he was dust for five years. That’s not his fault, obviously, but no one can expect to collect a paycheck while they don’t exist. That’s why the post-Blip economy is probably a bit wonky at the moment. So in total... seven years. No job. No paycheck. Part of that is consequences of Sam’s actions and part of it was through no fault of his own. But yeah, after seven years with no paycheck, there’s a good chance he’s got money issues. Did banks seize assets of those who were blipped? Totally possible.

But now, in-universe, let’s remember that all this bullshit that antis are spewing about “Tony Stark should have set aside money for his friends and teammates” and “Sam saved the world from aliens so many times, so he deserves a pension” and “Tony could set up a trust fund for all of the avengers because they’re his friends!” Yeah. That’s all 100% BS.

First off, Sam Wilson and Tony Stark are not friends in the MCU. Never have been. In Civil War, Tony said, “I know we don’t know each other very well” because they don’t! They’ve NEVER FOUGHT TOGETHER ON THE SAME TEAM! Think about that. Tony wasn’t an active duty avenger between Age of Ultron and Civil War, and that’s the only time period where Sam was an active avenger. So they were never really ���teammates” and they weren't friends. They were, at best, acquaintances or coworkers who never worked closely together.

And during that time, when Tony appears to have had little contact with the avengers, he was bankrolling the team. He says, “what, am I doing here? Running a bed and breakfast for a biker gang?” He made the compound and supplied all of the avengers’ tech. He gave them free room and board. It sure looks like they had everything they needed, so it’s entirely possible (even likely) that Tony was paying the Avengers during this time. But that’s all it was. Two years when Sam was an active avenger, Tony wasn’t, but Tony was still bankrolling the team. After that... Sam was a fugitive and then he was dust. So he spent 7 years with no job, and two of those years were by choice, because of Sam’s rejection of being an avenger and refusal to accept a government paycheck. He chose to be a vigilante with Cap, and vigilantism doesn’t supply a paycheck on its own.

And finally... Sam has never saved the world! And he’s only fought aliens during Infinity War and Endgame. So where are people getting this whole, “but Sam should be paid because hE sAvEd tHe wOrLd!”? Uh, no. Not really. He helped in Endgame. He tried to help in Infinity War. And that’s good. That’s important. It’s not nothing. But it’s also not saving the world. In this first episode of TFATWS, Sam literally accepted thanks from a guy who said “you brought my wife back,” when Sam had nothing to do with that. Bruce snapped and brought back all the dusted. Sam had no role in helping for that. Now I get that Sam was probably just being polite. But it’s contributing to this narrative that Sam did more then he actually did. Naw, man. Marvel never cared about Sam Wilson until five minutes ago. So they’ve never actually shown him doing anything that was, well, important. And that’s a fail on Marvel, but if we’re looking at it from a purely in-universe perspective... Sam Wilson doesn’t deserve any more or less than any other government/military contractor. Because that’s what he is now (he’s not an Avengers because the Avengers no longer exist), and that’s what he was up until the last scene of Age of Ultron. Most of his existence, he’s been a solider. He’s a military guy. So if he’s not been getting paid, that’s on the military. Tony, at most, would have paid him for two years of his time and work. The rest is all on the military, including Sam’s current finances.

Which means, you want to blame someone for Sam’s finances and his inability to get a loan? Well, there are three reasons. 1. Sam chose to leave the Avengers to become a fugitive with Cap, which means he had no job and no paycheck for two years. That’s the consequences of his actions. 2. the military either stopped paying him at some point, or hasn’t been paying him enough/quick enough in the past six months since the Blip. Military pay for veterans and veterans’ access to benefits is a real problem, but it’s a military problem. And it’s possible that any back-pay or pension that Sam is owed is tied up in red tape, which is probably only exacerbated by his time as a fugitive (which might mean he was made ineligible for any pension). And finally 3. systemic racism. His sister was pretty clear on the fact that “people like us” are the ones who always seems to be denied loans. She was saying that there is money available for loans, but it always go to white folks first. Maybe try listening to the black character explain why they believe they aren’t getting paid. Sam (when not on the run or blipped) was living a pretty cushy life as a supporting avenger for two years. He apparently didn’t have to think about how systemic racism could affect his family because he was temporarily insulated from it. Now that layer of protection is gone because he’s not living in a cushy compound away from the real world (which, for the record, is probably a good thing. I think the Avengers being so isolated from the real world is probably partially what led to the problems in Civil War). So now Sam is going to be confronted with the reality that systemic racism is real and can affect anybody, regardless of your fame or your job. And after the past year of discussions on race, the fandom shouldn’t be surprised by this narrative.

I am so sick of every single MCU project post-Endgame being twisted by antis who just want to use it to hate Tony Stark. I mean, seriously. Give it a rest, people! Try reading the narrative the way it was intended and stop twisting it for your hate-Tony-Stark obsession.

[everwitch-magiks]

RWRB Fics Roundup

Hey y’all! Once upon a time I had the ambition to post links on here to all the fics and new chapters that I publish on AO3, and I think it’s safe to say that I’ve been an absolute disaster at that over the summer. In my defense I’ve just had so much to write, but that’s not much of a defense seeing as it doesn’t take ages to chuck a link on here. Anyhow. Bottom line is, I’ve severely neglected it, and it’s gotten to a point where I’m just gonna make a post with links to everything I’ve written since June (ish) for you to peruse, so you can see if there’s one that you didn’t catch wind of that catches your eye now. Neat, huh?

So, without further ado, the links! The fics! Let’s go.

Completed works

Love At First Bark General Audiences, AU, tooth-rotting fluff. 3K. “I still don’t know your name, do I?” Henry watches Alex where he’s crouched down in front of David and gently scratching David below his chin. David absolutely loves Alex. Henry can relate. “It’s David,” Henry supplies. “Cool,” Alex says. “And what’s the dog’s name?” Henry blinks at him. “... David?” “What?” Alex exclaims. He looks from David to Henry and then back at David again. “Wow, okay, that is a choice.” Henry wants to sink through the earth and never come back up again.

Shameless Explicit, AU, Henry has a reputation. 14K. Henry has a lot of sex. A lot. He's young and in college and there is no shortage of men to fall in bed with. What better time to explore what he likes and what he fucking loves, as well as to catalogue how to make his many, many partners feel as good as possible? It’s all part of the learning experience. And Henry is a very dedicated student.

Alex has been inescapably aware of Henry ever since that one time they kissed. You don’t just stop being aware of the guy who basically caused your sexuality. So when Henry propositions Alex at a lame frat party, Alex accepts eagerly. Maybe this is exactly what he needs. Maybe, if he can just have Henry once, he’ll have a better chance of finally getting over his embarrassing fixation with Henry. It's worth a try.

When The Time Is Right Part four of my sex club series. Explicit, AU, dom Henry and sub Alex. 16K. “Maybe I could challenge you more,” Henry suggests, his eyes carefully trained on Alex. “And hold you accountable for longer. How does that sound?” “That sounds fucking amazing,” Alex tells him, the words coming out in a rush. “Yes. That. Please.” “Alright, then.” Henry offers him a sly grin. “Alex, love. You just gave me a wonderful idea.” It’s really something, how quickly Alex’s heartbeat picks up. “Oh? Do tell.” Henry’s grin widens. He looks alarmingly pleased with himself. “How would you feel about a staycation?”

When Alex asks Henry for something a little more intense in the bedroom, they end up taking more than just their sex life to the next level.

Out For A Bite Explicit, AU, suspense and supernatural elements. 3K. Henry's eyes fly up, zeroing in on the reflection in the mirror. There, behind him. The man from the bar. He looks different in the fluorescent bathroom lights. Sharper. There’s a look in his eyes that has Henry shivering all over again. It's greedy. Hungry.

He’s staring right at Henry.

Henry's throat feels dry. His heart beats madly. He's heard whispers of this place, and more importantly of its patrons. He thinks he knows what this man is.

ever fallen in love (with someone you shouldn’t have fallen in love with) Explicit, AU, Alex and Henry in DIY Punk & mainstream pop punk, respectively. 34K. Teenage music sensation Kensington have taken the world by storm. With their cool leather jackets and wickedly distorted guitars, they're a pop duo that packs a punch. Or at least they sound like one—their lyrics unfortunately lack any semblance of depth. Alex can't fucking stand Kensington. But thankfully, he doesn’t have to. He’s not likely to cross paths with those British pop losers during his final semester of high school in Texas. And even if he did, he'd never let some stupidly attractive blonde take his focus away from the goal that Alex has worked towards for years: winning the Austin Band Slam with his latino punk trio.

But when Henry comes crashing into Alex's life, with his intriguing piano pieces and piercing blue eyes and slow, purposeful kisses that make Alex burn with want, Alex finds that he might need to reevaluate his stance on both pop losers and distractions. Or maybe not. Maybe he’s better off keeping Henry at arm's length, since it's so painfully evident that Henry will never love him back.

Never Tell Me The Odds Teen and Up Audiences, canon verse, an outside perspective on First Prince as well as a story about a certain Star Wars mural. 2K. "Wait!" Alex yells up to the driver. "Stop! Stop the car!" Up close, it's beautiful. Two stories tall. He can’t imagine how somebody was able to put together something like this so fast.

Ash had never imagined that they'd get the chance to actually meet Alex Claremont-Diaz, and much less get the chance to tell Alex about how that very special Star Wars mural came to be. Although of course, Ash never would have met Alex if it hadn’t been for Farida. Farida and her bold courage, and her warm compassion, and her sometimes infuriating (but always endearing) stubbornness.

yrs. faithfully (with nowhere to go) Explicit, canon verse, a lazy morning in bed leads to something more. 3K. When Alex and Henry wake up together the day before their anniversary, they're genuinely planning on getting out of bed and spending the day as productive members or society. Truly, their intentions are honorable. But a trip down memory lane gets them reminiscing about that night exactly one year ago, when Alex had come running through the rain to deliver some choice words about obtuse fucking assholes.

As Alex and Henry start to relive the memory, they quickly realize that they both remember it intimately. So intimately that they might be able to pull off something of a do-over.

Gadgets and Gizmos A-Plenty A companion piece to dearest Hattie’s soulmate fic. Mature, AU, a look into Henry buying sex toys. Yes. That’s the fic. 2K. There’s a bunch of regulars that Amir knows by name (and, unavoidably, by kinks), but most often Playtime gets one-time visitors. Which makes sense, really. A lot of people don’t seem to want to step into the same adult toy shop twice. So Amir is always a little extra curious when there’s a repeat customer, especially one who is this attractive. And, interestingly, one who’s come back so soon.

The tall, classically handsome man with blond hair and blue eyes left Playtime no less than five hours ago after having purchased a medium-sized, fairly standard vibrator well suited for anal play. And now he’s back. Because apparently, he’s found he needed another vibrator.

If Sex Was A Sport We’d Be Winning Mature, AU, a classic Olympics hookup. 3K. It's remarkable, truly, that Alex didn't even want to be here. He only came all the way to Ariake because June was determined to watch a bunch of prissy ponies strut around to music. Still, perhaps the true Olympic experience lies in the wide variety of disciplines. Or, perhaps, it has something to do with chatting up a pretty blond behind the stables and getting him to show you the inside of an Olympic tack room. As Alex quickly takes to Henry’s sweet smiles and easy confidence, he realizes that just a few stolen moments with this man might turn into his most cherished memory from the Tokyo Olympics.

Alex knows better than to get attached, though. He and Henry live an ocean apart. There’s no way this quick fumble in the stable equivalent of a supply closet could ever lead to anything more. Right?

Talk Dirty To Me Explicit, AU, dom Henry and sub Alex. 9K. Henry studies Nora’s expression for a moment. There’s something about her favourable account of this guy she claims not to want to sleep with again that doesn’t add up. "But you're still not interested in taking him on?"

"He wants more than I'm willing to offer," Nora says frankly. Henry’s always liked this about her—how she doesn’t skirt around the hard facts. It's a part of what makes her so good at dominating. "But you know what? For you, he'd be kind of perfect."

Henry has been active in the local BDSM scene for years and there’s no shortage of men who’d love nothing more than to find themselves at his mercy. But Henry is on a break. He’s not looking for a new partner, but he’s also not expecting to become so intrigued by the man that Nora insists he should meet. Alex is a newcomer on the scene who doesn’t yet know exactly what he wants, much less with who. There’s no way that he could turn out to be exactly who Henry needs. Right?

Date night (please toy with me) Explicit, canon verse, a night out leads to some fun with a toy. 4K. This… this is new. They’ve talked about trying this, about what it’d be like to conceal some of their intimacy in plain sight, about what it would feel like to try and reclaim what is most private to them by flaunting it without anyone even knowing, by daring to take risks again. They’ve agreed that they’d still need to be careful, but they’ve also agreed that it would be interesting. That it would be fun.

And apparently, Henry thinks tonight is the night for it. “Do you trust me, love?”

“Yeah.” Alex swallows. He picks up the box, studying it for a moment. “Do you want… what do you want me to do?”

“I want you to go to the bathroom,” Henry says evenly, “You’ll find everything you need in the box. Then I want you to come back and sit down. Can you do that for me?”

“Yeah. Of course.” Alex taps the box, grinning in Henry’s direction. “I expect we’ll be leaving soon?”

Henry smiles slyly. “If you’re good, yes.”

Ongoing works

Hashtag Soulmates Mature, AU, Henry writes fanfiction. 23K and 7 chapters so far. Alex is perfect and handsome, the golden boy, everybody’s secret crush. So there is absolutely no way that he is the reader who screeches in caps lock every time that Henry posts as much as a drabble. There’s no way. Except Alex just closed his browser fast as fucking lightning, but not before Henry had gotten a good glimpse of the page Alex had open: AO3. ‘Don't Stop Me Now’, Henry’s current wip. The one that Henry literally just updated.

Sweet Jesus. Could it really be?

That... is all! It’s been a productive summer. I’m very excited to continue writing Hashtag Soulmates, and also to start working on a few upcoming First Prince fics that I’m planning on writing. Stay tuned for fics! ♡