#and I’m seeing places with 900 to a thousand a month

[weirdlet]

HOA fees are out of fucking control.

[gayandfairycore]

The prince, the magician and the physician

Summary when the witchfinder accuses you of having magic you must convince Arthur that your feelings for the boy have never been disingenuous. And Merlin must race against the clock to save you but can you be saved? Can your relationship with Arthur? Can love truly conquer Arthur’s prejudice?

Italics mean flashbacks

Word count: about 8k

Warning: torture, mention of execution, feeling betrayed, readers anxious, reader accepts death, canon divergence (but same overarching plot), Arthur may be a bit ooc sorry!

A/n: who’s back with the bbc Merlin fics? Me!!!!!!! Two fics in *almost* the same month-WHO is she? But seriously I’ve been writing more and I’m so glad I have I really enjoy writing these fics for you guys and to everyone who has supported me thank you so much!! We hit 900 followers a few weeks ago and it was such a milestone thank you all for enjoying my fics enough to follow!

⋆.ೃ࿔*:･

The witch finders arrival had you and Merlin in shambles he had already been pointing fingers and he had been in Camelot for nearly a day and already had been accusing people of having magic.

What was worse, he had witnesses. Three girls from the lower town who had been seeing traces of magic a man coughing up a frog from his throat, to a goblin dancing in the flames of a dying fire. To faces of the drowned in the well. with every confession you sent an angry glare to Merlin beside you, since he was the reason this witch finder had been called in the first place.

Fear bubbled in your throat when the witchfinder said he already had suspects. and who the witchfinder had accused happened to be yourself, Merlin, and the lady morgana.

It was day three when he found “proof” you were a witch. (Of course you were but the proof was bogus. It wasn’t yours.)

It wasn’t Merlin’s either, it was an amulet poorly hidden in a pot. Neither yourself nor Merlin were skilled with charming jewellery, and you couldnt wear bracelets whilst being the court physicians apprentice, besides when would you even have the time to charm jewellery? Between saving Arthur, being gauis’s apprentice, and watching over Merlin you never had a second to breathe.

But despite having never seen the amulet in your life you knew the witchfinder would see no sense. Men like that never would, and what was worse the witchfinder happened to be an old friend of gauis, with a reputation based on brutality and hatred. He despised magic with a passion if he suspected you, you were already as good as dead.

But you couldn’t let Merlin die by the hands of the witchfinder, Merlin had far too much life ahead of him.

He had to protect Arthur. He had to unite Albion. he had to live long enough to see Arthur’s rule And believe me There was nothing you wanted more than to see Arthur unite Albion and bring magic to the land But you weren’t the one destined to unite Albion, you were however destined to protect those you loved and some part of you was okay with dying for the cause of keeping your family safe.

and if you were asked if you regretted taking the fall for Merlin or gauis, of course you’d say no. He was your best friend and gauis was like a grandfather to you. You’d let them sentence you to death a thousand times over if it meant Merlin was safe. If gauis was safe.

“Search through that cupboard and under the bed!” The witch finders commanding voice called out to the guards as they tore apart gauis’s chambers you were aware by now that the moment he walked in he’d already deemed you guilty.

By the way His eyes narrowed like a predator to prey, the atmosphere was tense like he’d been preparing to go for the kill for awhile now. and disgust permeated from his figure in waves this man watched you like you were the dirt on his shoe, some small disgusting insect that deserved to die if he even thought you had magic.

Sharing a nervous glance at gauis your hands wringing nervously in your lap as you watched these knights destroy your home your gaze asked gauis the same question he’d been dreading, where was Merlin’s spell book?

If you were going to go down for magic paraphernalia you fully thought it would be because of Merlin’s spell book not some poorly disguised amulet that wasn’t yours in the first place.

Leon had been the one to find the amulet a haunted look in his eyes you could tell Leon did not want to do this, but honour bounded the knights more than kinship. More than years spent with each other from childhood sparring, to treating his wounds when Leon grew from a bashful baby faced boy into a lean young man practicing to become a knight.

He was honour bound to tell this monster what he found And you’d hate to see Leon burned beside you under the guise of solidarity. It was better for one to burn than two.

“An. enchanted. amulet.” The witchfinder spoke slowly as he inspected the Jewlery, every word sealing your fate “whose is this? Perhaps the boy Merlin Or the girls? Or even yours, old friend.” The witch finder sneered pointing his finger in your face as he circled gauis and yourself like you were prey

Your horror filled eyes flickered to gauis and you watched as his mouth opened and his eyes flashed with familiar selflessness it was clear, what the old man was going to do, he loved his little family as much as you did and you’d hate to see the old man take the blame for you or Merlin again.

living with gauis has already been enough of a burden you couldn’t let him die for something he had no part in (not that you did either but you were nothing if not loyal.) your heart constricted in your chest, your stomach dropping

One of you would surely be executed for this but you would not let it be Merlin, or gauis. It would be you before it ever was them.

Taking a shaky breath you stepped forward your hand out to block gauis front from stopping you “it’s mine.”

And the beat of your heart deafened you the room went deadly silent guards hands went to their swords ready for anything, in the corner of your eye gauis’s face went ghostly pale filled with horror as he watched his youngest apprentice, the girl he practically raised as if his own stare down this false god with cold eyes the sent fear shooting through gauis, you were capable you like Merlin had the ability to destroy your enemies without lifting a finger but gauis knew you better than for you to defend yourself. But you would be brave braver than anyone else.

You steeled yourself infront of the witchfinder your eyes narrowed dangerously. You did not take kindly to those attempting to ruin your family.

“Guards.” With one word the witch finder sealed your fate, looking to gauis behind you, your eyes only let your guard slip for a moment and the old man saw the burning fear that filled your gaze. As Leon’s hands restrained you with hesitation.

“you can’t!” Gauis called pointedly to the witchfinder “it’s not hers! she doesn’t know what she’s saying.” Gauis pleaded desperately after you seething from where he stood, he would not watch another child die.

you felt your heart break for the man who was like your father. “Leon, please.” You pleaded to Leon to release your hands for just a moment and the man you’ve known since childhood released his grip for only a second it was enough for you to break his hold and sprint to take gauis in a hug

Crashing into his arms you closed your eyes blinking away tears And you muttered the one phrase that could save you, that could reverse this fatal mistake, the one thing that stopped the panic in gauis for only a moment “It’s not mine.”

Before Leon’s hands had pulled you from gauis’s comforting arms, your tearful eyes met gauis and you expected to be met with fear but a newfound determination in gauis’s face calmed you, hope filled your heart Merlin would find a way to save you he always did.

Leon bent your hands behind your back and lead you down the halls of the castle

The witchfinder leading you through the halls, your Druid communication had been the most useful in situations like this, situations where Merlin was nowhere to be found

“Merlin, if you can hear this please find a way to get me out of this. The witchfinder has accused us of using magic be careful. Help me Merlin, Please find Arthur.” You didn’t get a response despite the fact You had never begged and you never had sounded quite as hopeless as you did then, even when you were behind enemy lines, in enemy dungeons it was different.

They weren’t your friends, weren’t your family sentencing you to die this was.

As you were dragged through the halls Camelot knights walked all around you, their billowing red capes with the golden dragon crest that once brought you so much comfort now brought only dread, the burning memory being wrapped up in Arthur’s cape on a hunting trip once dearly reminisced now just felt cruel.

⋆.ೃ࿔*:･

The braying of horses and the taps of hooves on the ground as you, the knights, Arthur and Merlin set off on a hunt you found it silly to be hunting for game for fun but you couldn’t refuse the invite considering you were arthurs personal physician recommended by gauis (and Merlin babysitter) and atleast you were with your closest friends who are the loyalist of loyal.

As opposed to being stuck in gauis’s chambers mulling over books like you do almost daily you’d take any possible time with Arthur especially away from prying eyes.

The sun was starting to go down and you were too far away from Camelot to head home so Arthur called it and you’d be camping in the woods tonight, you didn’t mind. It was nice to camp under the stars with your friends away from all the expectations, The watchful eyes. Camelot was home but it was growing increasingly more dangerous.

Here, in the forest with Arthur and Merlin and the knights you were more than just a physician you were equal. You were more then just lower class, you were free and here under the constant cover of trees and the darkening blanket of the setting sun you could be more than some backup physician, you were just y/n. And Prince Arthur was just Arthur.

And if you could have just cupped this moment in your hands and held it tightly to your chest you would have.

Camped by a large oak tree in Arthur’s arms his red cape with the golden pendragon sigil covered your body from the elements keeping you safe and warm and in the light of the fire there was no fear, no worry about expectations. Or watching eyes all that mattered was being truly yourself with the man you love in his arms unashamed.

When sleep finally stole you away from Arthur Merlin couldn’t stop the question that was brewing for months “do you love her?” The young man asked scouring the ground with a stick his arms rested on his knees as he watched the couple together Merlin knew this would turn out badly his best friend, a physician with no title dating the crowned prince of Camelot? A recipe for disaster

He knew what his destiny foretold, he knew the perils and he knew that your role in destiny would surely not let this freedom, this unabashed love stay happy. There could be no room for happiness when you had magic.

“Of course I love her.” The prince found himself telling Merlin hesitation in his voice fear rolling from him in waves, by now it was the late hours of the night, the knights and yourself long since asleep and Merlin and Arthur the only ones still awake

“You know your father would never approve?” Merlin spoke assured that if uther found out you’d most likely be executed

“I know that Merlin, but one day it will be different my father will have no say and I will be king when I am king I want her- to be my queen.” Arthur’s fingers run through your hair softly a promise Arthur swore to himself he would keep his arms wrapping tightly around your waist the soft sound of your breathing calming Arthur’s pounding heart he knew this was reckless and senseless but this was love. And love has no logic.

⋆.ೃ࿔*:･

Now a bitter taste of betrayal sat heavily on your shoulders as you were flanked by those you call friends as they lead you to your death you couldn’t blame them it’s not their fault they have to follow uther but it leaves a horrible taste in your mouth

How things had changed.

It was sad to feel Leon’s grip firm but not brutish still trying not to hurt you as if he wasn’t leading you to what would be your death. You were aware from the moment Arthur managed to steal your heart you’d end up on the gallows or burnt at the stake or you’d face death in battle intentionally scheduled by uther. He hated anyone who was not of noble blood for Arthur.

And No good ever came from destiny, and if it was your destiny to die in place of your loved ones you’d die a valiant death. But it didn’t stop the shake in your hands.

You could mask your fear you would not give the witchfinder what he wants. He would not break you.

But leon could feel the shake in your hand and feel the erratic beat of your heart from the pulse point on your wrist and he wanted nothing more than to damn the consequences and save you but he couldn’t. you could only rely on Merlin to prove the witchfinder a fraud and you to be innocent you could only pray for Arthur’s forgiveness. After your innocence is proven.

But the horrible feeling of dread that was building in your stomach as they were leading you into the dungeons a cell- no doubt already made up- And down every step you felt like throwing up when you finally made it to the bottom of the stair case the scent of wet earth and straw filled your nose the bricks that lined the dungeon and its torches that burned steadily along the side of the stairs made you feel ill.

The witch finder swung open the first vacant cell and Leon was forced to keep you there walking you the the center of the room, the suns rays that slipped through the cracks of the small window warmed your face but it didn’t comfort you, soon the sun would be your clock, your tally mark for your final night alive if Merlin failed.

Leon’s hands left yours and still the ache in your shoulders stayed “I’m sorry” he spoke lowly in your ear before he stepped away you turned to finally face your friend

“Leon, let Arthur know I’m sorry” You called to the man who grew up beside you who had been growing up pledging to die for Camelot even if that meant dying young he never expected the young girl with so much light in her eyes, and gentleness that always managed to calm her patients, he never thought she’d be the one on deaths door before him.

Before the man could reply the witch finger slammed the cell door shut and sneered through the bars “not to worry he’ll find out soon enough.”

Your heart constricted in your chest as you watched them all walk away the iron in the Camelot dungeons nullifying your powers and your connection with Merlin you couldn’t hear his reply to your plea you were well and truly alone you could of course break out from the cells the iron didn’t make you powerless only dulling your connection with the earth, the place your power comes from. But you couldn’t put your friends at risk.

⋆.ೃ࿔*:･

It was hours later when guards came to haul you away to your sentencing, heavy iron handcuffs clicked into place over your hands large chains weighing you down & tight enough to make the skin on your wrists rub painfully.

As Guards lead you through the castle to the throne room, there you stood at the large mahogany double doors two guards on either side as they flung the doors open all your friends and family, all your previous patients were standing there watching as the witchfinder lead you in as the number one suspect, the guilty witch. two guards gripped your arms and threw you to the ground in front of the king, a man who you’ve spent countless hours mending, and stitching up alongside gauis.

Your hands shook as your knees took the brunt of the force, your chains rattling from where you were you couldn’t see Merlin, or gauis. But You could feel Merlin’s energy over the crowd

“I’m going to get you out of this y/n, I swear.” Merlin promises to you through your Druid telepathy and you bit back the tears as You scowled at the sight of the ground. you couldn’t bare look up at the sight of morgana in front of you, of Arthur infront of you fear that you’ll see nothing but disgust, embarrassment and regret on his face.

“Here is the first witch I’ve uncovered in my short time here in Camelot. The court physicians apprentice. The princes! Physician!” Every word the witch finder spoke booms over the crowd as he exclaims to the counsel shock no doubt painted their faces you’ve treated every single person in this room and you’ve used magic on quite a few to save them. Why was that a bad thing? If you have the power to save someone was that not the right thing to do? Magic is not bad but people are.

“WHO can imagine what she could have used on the prince unsupervised! What magic she could have used and at what cost to the prince!” By the gasps of those standing around the room the witchfinders words seemed to make them angry, seemed to make the king angry he loved Arthur in his own way so for the witchfinder to use Arthur to sentence you, god. You were surely going to die.

“No.” Arthur’s words were quiet this was the first time he had said anything “y/n a witch? I mean come on we’d know! She’s lived in Camelot since she was five. And she wouldn’t harm a fly!” Arthur called like it was laughable resting his hand on his hip like it was obvious but by the look in his eye the look of realisation but you couldn’t find disgust you didn’t have time to search for it.

But It made you turn your gaze to the floor Arthur knows. he knows. you have magic. You’ve healed him countless times. no stab wound, or arrow wound could be healed as quickly as his has or all the time he’s been injured in battle only moments before, before the searing pain has been replaced with a dull ache. Or the times as a child where any scrape or scuffed knee had been eased by a soft kiss over the wound. The look of betrayal passing over his face when you gained the courage to finally look at him made you shrink into yourself

“That’s exactly what someone under her spell would say. I fear, uther that the prince is too close to her to see clearly.” The witchfinder spoke with a voice like acid and you couldn’t stand making yourself small if he was going to do you for magic you would not be ashamed. You would not hide from his gaze.

Your chained hands pushed you from your slumped position on the ground your hair messily falling over your face you stood on shaky legs looking at the people in the throne room, all your friends watching you with pity filled faces you couldn’t stand it.

It made you feel sick, especially the fearful teary eyed look from morgana like she was seeing her future you hated this.

Uthers response felt like it took years, “y/n l/n I sentence you to death.” The room fell eerily silent before a scream filled your head, it was Merlin you whirled around to spot him in the crowd tears in his eyes and anger flashing across his face you wouldn’t be surprised if the next attempt on uthers life would be from Merlin.

“No! Father you can’t. What evidence do you have?!” Arthur pleaded with his father quietly by his throne anger glaring in arthurs eyes pointed not at you, it gave you hope that he didn’t hate you enough to want you dead.

“My word is final.” The king sneered and your hope filled heart broke. Swallowing hard your eyes searched for Merlin the fear in your eyes hit him hard as he watched

you be carted out of the court room your eyes locking with Merlin’s anger and tears filled his eyes before your eyes swept to Arthur’s & the sheen of betrayal sat heavy in his eyes and before you could stop yourself you called out for him one last time. As the guards dragged you to the doors.

“Arthur!”

⋆.ೃ࿔*:･

The cells in camelots dungeons were always your most hated place to be from the horrid stench to the chill that cooled your bones to the straw that littered the floor In wet mangled clumps. To the extent it weakened your connection to your magic. Your magic was your strength the very essence of you to have it be weakened by the iron felt wrong.

The dungeons were perhaps the scariest place in Camelot there you’d sit, forced to rot as they’re building a funeral pyre for you and your execution is due in a day.

But you’d been there for now two days, and Day by day you were becoming more and more sure that this was the one situation Merlin could not save you from.

by the betrayed look on Arthur’s face when you were lead through the large doors infront of the entire court for your sentencing and the cold look in uthers eyes you were a dead woman walking.

And maybe you deserved it by the look on Arthur’s face as the pieces fell into place and he realised all the times his wounds eased that were not with the help of adrenaline, but magic. it made you wonder did he believe you had enchanted him? Bewitched him to love you? It pained you greatly to even think that Arthur may be in his chambers rethinking every kiss you’ve shared with one another. Would your love ever truly be enough for him to forgive you for magic? Of course he didn’t like magic that was to be expected but he liked you. At least you thought he liked you…

And He liked Merlin, he’d shown countless times indifference to magic, magic that had saved his life countless times, and still the look of betrayal in his eyes made you wonder Were all your secret picnics and stolen kisses in corridors just something to occupy him?

Were you nothing more than Arthur’s dirty little secret, a silly little romance that would have only ended in tragedy?

was it all for nothing?

Were you nothing to him?

No you were not nothing. You were everything you were his in private. the only place he didn’t have to perform. He didn’t have to agree with his father’s actions he could just be Arthur pendragon not the prince.

besides It’s better to have loved Arthur and to die for it than to have never had him at all. You may never be his queen but you were for a fleeting moment, for a fleeting moment you were his and he was yours.

And now you would burn because you loved your family too much to watch them die, you half wondered as you sat in that cell if uther knew.

If he had known you and Arthur were courting in secret and if he called the witchfinder to get rid of more than one the little scandal waiting to happen and you wouldn’t put it past uther to condemn you to death so long as Arthur is still under his control.

The longer you sat in your cell the more you stewed, a slue of emotions crashing over you, from sadness to anger, to acceptance.

You would accept the fate of burning for your loved ones but you would not accept the fate of losing Arthur. Not like this.

You would not be separated by death, if Arthur didn’t want you after knowing the truth you would live with it, but you would not live with not knowing.

Your love for the boy had been too strong you were going to marry Arthur in the future, it wasn’t to far away having a family with the prince, having a life.

That could have been your future. If you were not awaiting execution.

You sat there in drenching sadness that crashed like waves, what was worse was the sound of key’s jiggling. Did you misjudge the days? Was this going to be the end? already?

“You and me are going to have a little talk.” The witch finder sneered unlocking your cell and looking down at you with hatred still you didn’t gaze in his eyes. You watched the floor with intensity as he hauled you off to a different cell leading you through the halls past the staircase you caught sight of a shaky morgana your eyes found hers and suddenly you felt a lot more scared than before.

In the cell there was a chair and a table and a small cart of various medical and surgical weapons ‘oh shit’ your mind screamed as the witch finder forced you to the chair “So we can do this two ways. It’s up to you confess why you’re in Camelot and who else has magic. and maybe I’ll let you live. Don’t tell me and I’ll find out myself.” The cruelty in his tone made you rear back subconsciously eyes narrowing at the witchfinders gaze

“Then” you sighed shakily looking at him through your lashes coldly“you’re going to have to find out yourself.” You summoned every inch of anger and willed it in your tone. Trying to be brave despite the frantic beats of your heart.

But It was hours spent in that damp Camelot cell hidden from the other prisoners clamped to a chair and the witch finder inches from your face and array of striking weapons on a small cart made your breathing hitch.

But you’ve had worse, you’ve had to fight wilderin in hengists kingdom for sport. Both yourself and Gwen had been kidnapped under the guise of being morgana and her physician and so yourself and Gwen were forced to masquerade as morgana and yourself and you were stuck in different cells both damp and smelling of blood and wet earth.

And then there was Lancelot who happened to be hengists champion, and a champion who only days later you’d be thrown into the pit with a wilderin with no weapons with a tied up Gwen and Lancelot. Both yourself and Lancelot had stayed behind to give Gwen time to escape and ultimately were the first to be thrown in the cage again you didn’t mind as long as Gwen escaped you’d be fine.

But Truth be told the odds were very against you, but magic was always going to save you, but using it would doom you especially in front of everyone in hengists court. With the use of magic and a bloodied broken bone from the wilderins last meal made for a convenient way to murder the beast. Until another one came and Merlin and Arthur had saved you just in time From its hideous rat jaws the huge bleeding scar of its teeth in your arm made you detest the stench of blood and earth.

That was probably the worst experience of your life until now. And the scar from the wilderins teeth was still healing but the physical scars meant nothing the torture of being in a cell that smells the same as this dungeon was the worst that and the feeling of knowing your life is going to end were probably the most humbling experiences.

But, the only saving grace was that night in camp where Arthur had taken it upon himself to patch up your wilderin wound (poorly might you add as a physician it was odd to let the only man with very little experience patching someone up, patch you up.)

But you let him anyway and Arthur’s hands held your arm with feather light touches the needle threaded through your flesh with clumsy fingers the stiching off centre and rough around the edges but it was Arthur’s way of telling you he cared, the silk thread slid easily through your flesh but it pained you every stitch Arthur was no physician but he was trying.

“I’m glad you’re okay. And Gwen told me when they questioned you about any secrets of Camelot you never cracked.”

“never Camelot is my home.” You smiled at the prince but your attempt at reassurance failed miserably and he ducked his head

“I wish you, cracked. Then they wouldn’t have given you that.” Arthur pointed to the growing black eye rapidly swelling over your left eye a bruise you got for refusing to rat out any information on when guards were on duty, the way to the Camelot armory or anything you overheard as a physician from any loose lipped clients.

“I am not weak Arthur. I can deal with a black eye and brutish men. I’ve been sparring with you and the knights for years” Your eyes pointed angrily at the boy crossing your arms over your chest despite the half finished stitching feeling the half sewn wound twist painful as you did so but you hid the pain to appear strong something you’ve done since you were young

“I never said that! But you- you aren’t weak. I can’t stand seeing you in pain.” Arthur’s blue eyes bore into yours with such an intensity his eyes flashing from your lips to your eyes his hand cupping your jaw as he pressed his lips softly against yours shock prevented you from kissing back as the blonde went to pull away you chased his lips kissing him back with feverish passion.

“I love you Arthur.” You rested your head against his the exhaustion of the day catching up to you he didn’t say it back but you didn’t care he just had to know.

⋆.ೃ࿔*:･

The memory of Arthur made you feel loved it kept you strong, hit after hit, once against your ribs twice against your face, four times against your legs and once more against your face with enough force to split your lip licking the blood that dripped from your lip your bruised body heaved in pain and still you never cracked.

“Come on miss l/n, just tell me two little names and all this can stop”

“You’re deluded.” You sneered before spitting a wad of blood into the witchfinders face smiling gleefully when your blood tinged spit stained his face but the glee was short lived when the man had sent a quick hit to your chest stealing the air from your lungs.

Before he grabbed a tool with a screw and roughly pulled your thumb into it “you will tell me miss y/n what your intentions are with the prince and with Camelot or I will force it out of you.”

The witchfinder shredded his coat as he leaned over you tightening the screw into your thumb the pressure of the screw against your finger had you squirming in your seat as he tightened the contraption more and more

“All you need to do is confess your accomplices. And this will stop.” His voice echoed the room but the feeling of a sharp screw drilling into your finger tighter and tighter puncturing the nail and skin the pain otherworldly and unbearable you tried to hold your scream back but when the man still did not relent and instead tightened the thumb screw you let out your blood curdling scream.

“WHO! Are! Your! Accomplices!” His voice yelled now as he tightened more and more gut wrenching screams ripped from your throat you would let yourself scream, let yourself cry but you would not tell him a thing.

The crushing feeling of your thumb bones breaking made your heart beat incredibly fast your other ironed hand gripped the table with force your nails digging into the wood

He still tightened the screw and by the loud haunting screams that ripped from you and the smile on the witchfinders face he enjoyed your pain you couldn’t help the salty tears and horrible screams the pain unbearable and overcoming your sense but still your mouth locked on any information like a vault.

“Come on!” His voice boomed as his hands squeezed your bicep his eyes crazed as he watched you

“Fuck you!” You screamed eyes red with tears and fighting the approaching darkness in the corner of your vision

“Aredian, sir. The king has called a meeting and requires your presence.” The servant at the cell door had spoken quietly to the witchfinder nervous in his presence

The witchfinder sighed straightening his posture rolled his eyes and moved close to your ear “no matter, miss l/n. The lady morgana, and Merlin will burn with you soon”

Your heart dropped and you struggled against the restraints the excruciating pain from your finger and the rest of your beaten body the pain in your ribs alluded you to the potential broken bones it caused your panicked shouts to echoed through the dungeon and the witchfinders laugh filled the room

“No! Aredian stop.” You cried to his retreating figure “I’ll confess to the use of sorcery if. And only if, you spare Merlin and morgana.” Your eyes close in defeat

“Good choice, miss y/n. take her to her cell.”

⋆.ೃ࿔*:･

And there you were again cut off from anyone and anything unsure if Merlin would be able to prove you innocent, or if he’d burn with you, or if Arthur still even cared the woman he was courting was about to be executed and had just withstood torture. Hengist was bad but he never had broken your bones or tortured you only tried to feed you to wilderin.

The pain in your thumb had dulled but the bleeding hole had still gushed the measly bandage that consider of your dress did barely anything to stop the bleeding and the iron cells mixed with the torture made your magic virtually ineffective making you unable to fully heal your wounds only dulling the pain of your thumb.

your time was running out and you were truly alone in the cells your connection to Merlin via your druid telepathy was proving useless he wouldn’t respond you couldn’t warn him of the witch finder and by the shine of the moon in your cell you only had hours left.

There is already a funeral pyre with your name on it in the court yard. You couldn’t help the tears that slipped down your cheeks you didn’t want to die not like this and a prison break wasn’t even on your mind they’d just kill Merlin and gaius in your absence there was no way out. and the crushing guilt of something you cannot change began to pound against your skull. Were you born wrong?

Was it wrong to have this magic? This power that has saved those you’ve loved for years why was it seen as inherently evil? Why were you seen as inherently evil? All you wanted was your friends to be safe.

And between the pain that debilitated you from the physical blows to the broken bones in your thumb and the emotional pain of Arthur most likely hating you made you want to just give up.

You pulled your knees to your chest as you cried the stupid scent of blood, earth, and straw polluted your nose. And you found yourself thinking about how lucky Gwen had been to have Lancelot visit her cell in hengists kingdom determined to break her and by extension yourself out.

You had Merlin in your court but you still wished you had someone to hold your hand through the vent even if it was the last thing you’d ever do you didn’t want to die alone.

“Y/n” you heard whispered from the doors of your cell “Arthur?” You called confusion lacing your voice as your red rimmed eyes met Arthur’s and you couldn’t help but run to the cell door resting your head on the bars sobbing in relief at the sight of him the pain from your body put on the back burner for a moment.

“What happened?” Guilt filled Arthur’s heart at the sight of you, your eye healing from your previous beating and now the sight of your bloodied broken thumb and bruised body Arthur saw red.

He felt betrayed at the revelation of your magic of course but he understood why you had kept it a secret and if Arthur had been paying more attention he would have seen it plain as day when you were kids.

Your magic was obvious since childhood Arthur was too blind to see it.

“I know” was all he said eyes stoney and voice unwavering “I know you have magic the witch finder is right.”

Any hope that bubbles in your chest died with his words “Arthur I- i can explain” You tried shaking your head lacing your uninjured hand in his through the cell pleased when he didn’t pull away

“Shhh Merlin told me everything, everything you’ve ever done to save me. Save everyone. I understand why you did what you did.” Arthur spoke lowly his eyes staring into yours trying to convey his apology

“Merlin has come up with a plan to save you, he’s doing it right now but I couldn’t go another day without telling you I’m sorry you had to keep this a secret. I can’t stay for long but- but y/n I love you.” Arthur spoke with all the love he could muster placing a chaste kiss on your lips through the cell

“I’m sorry I didn’t tell you before I was afraid of my father I am supposed to be king one day to marry someone of noble blood, but I don’t want that. I want you.” Arthur’s voice is quiet as he confesses he wants to spend the rest of your lives together

“I want nothing more.” You felt like crying he still wanted you, magic and all.

“Arthur, I was so scared.” You felt so exhausted from the torture to the ticking clock you couldn’t help but cry

“Shh” Arthur’s fingers ghosted over the skin of your cheeks wiping your tears. “We will prove your innocence, I’ll keep your secret. I promise you.”

Arthur placed a kiss on your lips once more pressing a necklace with his ring into your hand before promising Merlin has everything under control.

With your heart a bit lighter you finally sat down on the hard cell bed clutching Arthur’s ring in your hand you let sleep overtake your body trusting that Merlin will save you.

⋆.ೃ࿔*:･

When the bright light of the sun shines through your cell window today is the day you are supposed to die, and part of your questioned if you dreamt Arthur’s presence to save your sanity but by the slight pressure of his ring on a chain in your hand reassured your beating heart.

You were not dreaming, Arthur loves you and Merlin just spent last night trying to save you but there’s still a ticking time bomb of the noon execution and by the switch shift of the guards it was almost 12

Time was ticking and still there was no sign of Merlin you felt sick like your heart was going to fall out of your stomach

You prayed to whatever god or deity was out there that you would not burn today but by the size of the growing crowd outside the cell window your prayers would go unanswered there was nothing you could do but just sit there in anxiety

The rattling of keys and heavy sound of chainmail made you accept the fact that Merlin would be too late to save you and Arthur would watch you burn

When the knight reached your cell his keys turned the lock and he walked towards you slowly your eyes met the floor the pain in your thumb still debilitating but you held Arthur’s ring in your hands tightly if you were to burn your burn knowing you were loved.

To your surprise when the knight takes you by the wrist silver key in hand as he unlocks your handcuffs

Confusion takes over your face as you watch the knight with intensity “what?” You can’t help but ask rubbing your now freed wrist nervous when he takes your injured hand but this knight grips your hand with gentleness that’s beyond you

“You’re free to go miss” the knight smiles he looked to be a newer knight of Camelot one you didn’t grow up with but he is kind

“Thank you” you nod to the knight as you stumble from your cell gauis is standing at the end of the hallway white as a ghost but pleased to see you freed from your cell

“Y/n!” Gauis smiles opening his arms and you can’t help but fall into them holding onto gauis tightly your sobs wet his shirt shoulder

“Gauis how did you do it? How did you prove me to be innocent?” You cry your hands shaking and body weak from days spent eating little food and dealing with aredians torture.

“It was all Merlin and Arthur.” The old man smiles his arms supporting you as you walk up the stairs from the dungeons to your chambers

“Tell me everything.”you smile at the old man walking side by side down the corridor gauis’s laugh fills the empty hallway

“Not here, let’s get your wounds treated.” His eyes glance at the bruises littering your body, and the bloodied thumb

⋆.ೃ࿔*:･

You had never been so happy to see your chambers in your life, the comforting smell of herbs and bread the familiar scent of old books and the sound of your boots against the stone floor sounded like music to your ears

There’s no scent of wet earth, or blood aside from the metallic smell emanating from your finger you could almost forget the pain of the cells now that you’re back.

But there’s still very obviously signs of damage done by the witch finders raid broken pots, damaged shelves potions and poisons leaving residue on the floor

But still it is your home. gauis filled a pitcher of water and fills a cup for you and once the water passes your lips you come to realise just how parched you were gulping down glass after glass

gauis busied himself with fixing his work station pulling ointment after ointment and an array of bandages from his kit.

“Sit please” gauis pointed to the table and you sat yourself on the wooden bench gauis had begun to take your makeshift bandage from your wound the gaping hole in your thumb and the blood that spurted from your wound made gauis’s breathing hitch

As he gentle distributed ointment over the wound to fight off growing infections and bandaging up the wound with a fresh bandage Merlin would work on reconstructing your thumb when he gets back

Gauis had felt over your ribs and when he had found another break Merlin would be healing that too for now gauis would sit beside you on the dining room table fresh food would be laid out gauis knew what it was like in the Camelot dungeons and the lack of food

So he didn’t comment on how much you ate when approaching footsteps made your heart beat faster and your eyes flicker to gauis his hand rested on top of yours to reassure you, gauis and Merlin would always reassure you you were safe here you weren’t trapped in the cells of your own home.

When Merlin’s figure found himself in the doorway you could see the relief on his face that you were okay aside from the bruises and bandaged thumb you were alive.

“Oh y/n” Merlin’s soft voice cried and before you knew it you were pushing up off of the table and running into Merlin’s arms

“Hi Merlin” you held him tightly you owed Merlin your life and so being in his hold meant being safe, he would never hurt you.

“God I’m so glad you’re back” his hold tightened and he could feel your magic strong and your connection to eachother he wasn’t cut off from you anymore

“I’m so sorry it took me so long.” Merlin’s guilt ate him alive as he pulled away the black eye and split lip made him see red if he didn’t already kill aredian by accident he would have and he would have made him go through what you did.

Merlin’s eyes flashed yellow and the unbearable ache in your thumb and pulsing pain all over ebbed into nothingness.

You could feel your bones reassembling in your thumb and your broken rib fuse back together the pain and bruises once a bright purple colour would dissipate into a light blue and then would turn into the colour of your skin again.

“Thank you, Merlin.” You squeezed his hand tightly he nodded his head and held you tightly in his arms

Before a smile broke out on his face “do you want to hear how I proved aredian to be a fraud?” Merlin helped you sit beside him and poured another glass of water for you

“Of course!”

⋆.ೃ࿔*:･

After Merlin had recounted the entire night from convincing Arthur of everything, that despite your magic you loved him with no enchantment and even if you had enchanted him Merlin asked Arthur point blank if what he told him that day you were cuddled in Arthur’s arms if it was still true, if he still loved you.

Arthur told Merlin he would always love you but he couldn’t trust you now with magic Merlin felt like slapping the prince.

How could you trust Arthur? He’s the prince of Camelot. A kingdom that tried to burn a woman at the stake the first day he arrived and you had grown up here watching that and still you treated its citizens and royalty with no malice?

Merlin understood why you couldn’t trust Arthur he can’t. Not because Arthur was a bad friend but he’s the prince.

No one can help how they are born, but you can put yourself in their shoes and Merlin spent hours convincing Arthur and then more hours enchanting aredian.

From the tincture of belladonna, to the bracelet, to even the frog from aredians throat! Merlin would not fail.

You loved Merlin a lot no one would go as far as he did to save you and you only knew him for a year and a half.

When three knocks sounded on the door Merlin had tried to hide his smile as gauis opened the door to Arthur, in a white shirt freshly showered hair and a Bouquet of wildflowers you felt your heart melt at his kindness

His blue eyes were filled with worry and fear his gaze flicking to gauis and Merlin before he lowered his voice “how are you?”

“Much better now I’m out of that god forsaken cell.” You felt your throat close up at the mention of the cell you spent so long in

Arthur felt guilty about his actions about not saving you or stopping his father. He tried but he could have tried harder

You could see Arthur was drowning in his guilt placing your hand on his shoulder you lead him past gauis and Merlin to your room and sat on your small bed

“You tried your hardest Arthur, it’s not your fault I was thrown in the dungeons.”

“I should have stopped them y/n. I should have broken you out I should have done anything!” Arthur blinked through tears

His hand holding yours in your lap, “Arthur I love you with my whole heart I do not blame you, so please do not blame yourself.”

“I love you and I promise I will spend the rest of my life proving to you how much I love you.” Arthur confessed his eyes full of sincere love

You couldn’t help yourself but to kiss him your lips meshing against one another’s felt like home, it felt like love and warmth and like an apology all in one.

It wasn’t until your lungs burnt for air did you pull back. “I should go I don’t want anyone to become suspicious, I’ll see you tomorrow?” Arthur asked tentatively a part of him afraid of rejection.

“Of course” you placed another kiss on his lip before pulling open your chamber door to reveal Merlin and gauis on the other side ears pressed against the wood looking guilty.

“Merlin…gauis what do you think you’re doing?” You chastise at the pair you expected this of Merlin but of gauis? That was surprising

“Gauis i expected better of you” Arthur laughed from where he stood wrapping an arm around your shoulder

[rowdyhughesy]

Can’t say goodbye - Ethan Edwards

“ A year ago everything was different. And now that I look back, I realise that a year can do a lot to a person “

- anon

If I still have to be sad everyone else does too

word count: 900

Tampa Bay Florida, the sunshine state. A sunshine state that now feels like it’s the bringer of bad news. Sunshine that’s gone cloudy and dark. Colourless as you watch the looks on the boys faces on the ice as the final buzzer sounds in the arena. You know it’s not quiet but in your mind it’s a deafening silence. Watching them looks so defeated.

It almost makes you want to throw up just from the burn inside your chest that’s crawling it’s way up your throat when you notice Ethan’s facial expression.

It’s agony knowing you won’t see him until later back at the hotel when all you want is to run down the tunnel and be there. Be there for him, for Mark, for Luke, for everyone of them. Tell them that this isn’t over but it is, for some of them this is the end and that is a thousand pounds stone in your stomach.

You don’t say a word in the Uber back to the hotel, Molly and the other girlfriends are quietly talking amongst themselves but you don’t have it in you to participate. They don’t understand how it feels because they’ve only been around the last couple of months. They don’t go to Michigan, they don’t see these boys everyday.

Haven’t experienced this pain for a second time.

You love them as friends but this is something they won’t understand no matter how hard they try so you stay silent. It’s easier this way. Easier to let the emotions eat you up from the inside until you see the guys and can cry together. Until you see Ethan.

Molly hugs you tight before she and the other freshman’s girlfriends go one way and you drag your feet up to your room. To wait until Ethan comes knocking.

It feels like years have gone by as you lay there on the hotel bed, staring at the ceiling and you can’t cry because it’s like the tears have dried up. All that’s left is the burn, building and building until it’s all you can feel. A fire inside your ribcage that can’t be put out.

It’s not until you hear the door unlock to your room that you shift your eyes from the ceiling, the sound of heavy footsteps reaches your ears before a tall frame steps inside the room.

Ethan’s wearing a big sweatshirt with the hood pulled over his head and sweatpants. Hair still damp from his shower as sock clad feet shuffles over the carpeted floor.

He doesn’t say anything as he lays down next to you on the covers, silently grabbing your hand and giving it a soft squeeze. Neither saying a word, letting the presence of each other be enough for now. You’re the one to break that bubble of silence.

“I’m sorry Ethan, I’m so sorry.” Your voice cracks at the end and the tears finally fall. They’re slow at first. One, two, three tears slip down your cheek until they land on the blankets. A small wet patch forming on the material.

Ethan scoots closer to you until he rests his head on your shoulder. Nose brushing against your jaw and beard scratching the skin on your collarbone. Warm breaths fanning your neck making goosebumps rise on your arms.

“I can’t say goodbye again.” His voice is so quite you wouldn’t have heard him if he wasn’t laying right next to you. But you did and it makes the burn grow even stronger.

You turn around to your side so you’re laying face to face with your boyfriend. Ethan’s brown eyes are looking back at you. Glazed over, almost distant and bottom lip wobbling as he tries not to cry.

Leaning your forehead against his you simply place your hand on his cheek. Feel the prickly hair on your palm, the soft skin on the apples of his cheeks and let yourself drown in the feeling of Ethan so close.

You know he’s not going anywhere, not yet but it grounds you to feel him. Remind yourself that he’s still here at least for a while. That you don’t have to watch him walk away yet.

“I’m going to miss him.” You know who he means without Ethan having to clarify. Luke.

One of his best friends and now he’s not going to be there anymore and it hurts. It hurts all of them to loose one of them.

“I know baby, you’re allowed to be sad. You’re allowed to be angry that it ended like this and you’re allowed to be happy for him at the same time. It’s okey to feel it all.” The tears finally fall and a choked sob rips from his chest. You’re quick to hug him close, cradling the taller boy to your body and let him feel it.

So you lay there, crying and holding each other as you mourn what could’ve been at frozen four. Mourn the loss of teammates that won’t be here next season.

Let the dark clouds inside your minds roar with thunder and heavy rain. Feel it suffocate the burn inside your chests until it’s just a lingering ache.

You have to say goodbye to everyone that’s leaving at some point but for now you’ll just let yourselves feel the sadness. Hide from the reality outside your room a little while longer.

Just the two of you.

[topguncortez]

Coughs and Cuddles - B.Floyd 

pairing: Robert 'Bob' Floyd x Female!Reader genre: tooth rotting fluff Warnings: Fevers, cough, sickness, Bob Floyd is a cute ass motherfucker and needs to be treated as such word count: 900 Note: I can literally feel the pneumonia marinating in my lungs, and so I present Nurse Bob:)

Bob knew you better than you knew yourself sometimes. He knew when you were hungry, when you were tired, when your cycle was about to start, and when you were getting sick. You hated being sick. The fever, the chills, the constant hacking up a lung. Not to mention, if you were really sick, you had to take a day or two off of work. Flying while you were sick was a thousand times worse than flying normally. The pressure in your head felt like a knife being driven into your skull over and over. So when Bob heard that first sneeze, he knew that you were going to be in bed sick tomorrow morning. 

And he was right. You woke up drenched in sweat, and calling out his name. Bob had already called Maverick that morning to tell him that neither one of you was coming in. He had stocked up the night before, leaving work early to go to the store. He was down in the kitchen making you tea with honey when he heard the pitiful sound of your voice. His heart broke on sight as he finished setting up the tray with everything. 

“I’m right here,” Bob said, gently pushing the door open. 

“I don’t feel good,” You said and Bob nodded. He set the tray down on the bedside table. 

“Can you sit up?” He asked and you nodded weakly. Bob helped you sit up, and then fluffed the pillows behind you. He then placed the back of his hand on your forehead, and frowned. Double checking, he grabbed the thermometer on the tray, “Under the tongue, honey.” You opened your mouth and he stuck the thermometer in. 

“Ya know this isn’t the most-” Your words ceased as Bob grabbed another thermometer, this one was one that was placed on your forehead. He smiled at you as he waited for them to go off. When they went off, Bob looked at them both and frowned. 

“102.4, a fever,” Bob said, “Like I thought. What else is wrong?” 

“My tummy,” You muttered. 

“I got you some buttered toast, tea, ginger ale, and saltines. Eat the toast first, and then I can give you some tylenol-” 

“I can’t-” 

“It’s the gel capsules,” You hummed and Bob leaned down to kiss your forehead, “You lay here,” He grabbed the remote from the middle of the blankets, “And watch the Bachelor, while I go do laundry.” 

“Bob, that mountain has been growing for like a month,” You guys had been so busy with work lately that the last thing you guys had time to do was laundry. The clean clothes basket had been overflowing for weeks. 

“It’s fine. Eat first, tylenol, oh and here,” He grabbed the cool washcloth that was also folded on the tray. You leaned forward a bit and put it around your neck, “Help cool your temp and break the fever. Call if you need anything, I love you.” He pecked your lips before heading out of the room. Bob knew that when you were sick that you didn’t like people to dote on you hand and foot. You were thankful that he let you have your space, and shifted a bit to get more comfortable and turned the TV on. 

You must’ve dozed off at sometime cause the next time you woke, it was to Bob rubbing your back. Your eyes fluttered open, looking to see the panic in Bob’s eyes. Bob caressed your cheek as you took a deep breath, which resulted in a fit of coughing. He helped you sit up a bit, clearing your airway. He rubbed your back gently as you doubled over from coughing. 

“What’s wrong?” Your voice was hoarse as you spoke. 

“You started whimpering and shaking. I could hear you down the hall in the office,” Bob said, and then checked your forehead, “I think it was your fever breaking. Kind of scared me.” You frowned at that, seeing his big blue puppy dog eyes. 

“I’m sorry.” 

“Oh no, honey, don’t apologize. I’m sorry for not checking you more often. I came in like two hours ago and you were fast asleep. Looked kinda cute, so I went to work so you could sleep more. How are you feeling?” 

“Slightly better,” You admitted, “But I think I do need something?” 

“What is it?” Bob looked around, “Water? Shoot, I didn’t get you any water, I’ll go-” You grabbed his hand to stop him from running to the kitchen to get you water. 

“I need a bubble bath,” You said, and watched as a smile broke across Bob’s face, “Followed by cuddles. Doctors orders.” 

“The doctor, huh?” Bob smiled and leaned down to kiss your forehead, “You sit tight, pretty girl, I’ll go get it started. Lavender or Rose Petal soap?” 

“Mmm, lavender.” 

“Sure thing. Don’t you move an inch, I’ll come get you when it’s ready,” He pointed at you, and you gave him a mock salute. Bob chuckled as he walked towards the bathroom. You sighed and flopped back down on the pillows. You looked up at the ceiling as you listened to the water being turned on. 

“Yeah. . . I’m gonna marry him,” You said aloud.

"What was that babe?!" Bob yelled from the bathroom.

"Nothing!"

[nachoscheesy]

Tumblr Revival

Tl;dr

Tumblr has a large interconnected community of artists and content creators, and should focus on its strengths and what it does right. Instead of trying to compete for space against Facebook, Instagram, and Twitter. Tumblr should focus on empowering its community and giving that community the tools to develop the site's unparalleled uniqueness.

Tumblr is the crossroads of the internet, with a monthly user traffic of 300 million it is the perfect space for artists, content creators, and small businesses to grow their following without having to fight for a seat at the table against companies with huge budgets.

Hi, I go by Nacho here on tumblr, and I'm sure as many of us on tumblr have noticed, the (hell)site is kinda going downhill. Tumblr was bought by Automattic in fall of 2019, and I am sure they have the best intentions to help tumblr stay afloat. However, I think it's time the community took a more deliberate approach to how tumblr is handled, and hopefully Automattic and @staff will hear us out. I think I have a solid solution to tumblrs money issues, that will help both the site and empower its online communities.

First and foremost, I am not involved with Tumblr or Automattic. I am just a simple blog trying to help out a place that I've been on since 2010, and I would hate to see it die here around 2023.

So, let's get to the root of the problem on tumblr right now. That being money, tumblr is currently costing more money that it produces, as we've seen with its 97% drop in value from 1.1 billion dollar sale to being sold at around 3 million dollars.

So the first thing that must be improved before anything else can be improved on tumblr is how much money they're bringing in a month. I don't think folks on tumblr hate monetization as much as we all collectively say we do, I think the issue is that most advertisers are completely disconnected from the groups they are trying to advertise to on here. Tumblr comprises roughly 65% millennials and 30% gen-z, the two generations that advertisers seem to have the hardest time advertising to for a myriad of reasons. The main one being that they don't fully understand what we want, and sometimes just don't listen to what we are saying.

Lets look at how tumblr makes its money, Tumblr has four main revenue sources,

Ads by sponsored posts

Display ads through video posts

Sponsored Day ads or banner ads

“Premium Themes”

I'll go into depth on all of these and how tumblr could make potential changes to improve their revenue anywhere from three to six months after it implements some or ideally all of these changes.

First tumblr ads and sponsored posts, these changes are going to be contingent on tumblr allowing its users to share, like, and comment on ads much like all other media sites currently allow. Or at least giving advertisers the ability to turn that on or off as a function.

The average tumblr post gets reblogged 14 times, that number increases significantly if the ad is engaging and actually caters to the communities wants and needs. My reasoning for giving users the ability to reblog ads is to increase user engagement while maintaining their current ad vetting process and all of the nonsensical ads that are run on tumblr 90% of the time.

The other reason for allowing tumblr users to share and comment on ads, or have it be an option for advertisers to turn on or off as they'd like, is that the appeal of tumblr is the ability to propagate and obsess over the most niche things (i.e OSHA.)

All the while allowing content that gets shared all over the internet bubble up to the top through the collective hand of the tumblr community. Along with this tumblr has no way for small users to share their own products or services, every single major site has a way for users to advertise their pages or products through the site.

Tumblr is a content machine that creates imagery and memes that get shared all the time across the internet, so the ability to share and curate its own ads is paramount to improving advertising and user engagement on tumblr.

My proposal here is for tumblr to expand its advertising capabilities to all users, while charging a flat rate fee to advertise on tumblr, with additional charges for popular tags or trending tags. Tumblr currently has no self service advertising system much like Facebook does for example. Where facebook charges a daily rate on cost-per-click(CPC) or cost-per-thousand(CPM)

Charging a flat rate fee at a rate of a day, week, month, or quarterly basis with variances in prices based on the lease term and what the advertisers would want to have their ads show up on certain tags. This would open up the doors for small businesses that don't want to advertise on places like facebook, twitter, or google with their complicated CPM and CPC models. Also bringing in more small locally owned businesses with the added value of less competition for ad space on tumblr.

This would also take some of the weight from tumblrs own advertising staff from having to explain a convoluted system to potential advertisers. Creating a simplified model with the the advent of tumblrs own infrastructure able to get a single post to a large variety of users. Where the current ad model uses a “shotgun” method to hit as many people as possible, the tumblr model could encourage advertisers to curate a more personalized and intimate experience that tumblr users would love.

Why not just advertise elsewhere? Tumblr still in fact gets over 300 million views a month as of June 2021 (Statosta), and the added benefit for users to be able to like, share, and interact with ads would allow ads that the community enjoys to be talked about more. Giving advertisers more honest feedback about their ads while increasing their SEO’s.

Also small businesses that can't compete with the vetting processes that are used on other sites, would have a better chance of developing their business and increasing their clientele on tumblr whose core demographics are approximately 60% millennial and 35% gen-z. This core demographic does in fact care about being able to shop at local stores, or even a store across the US that is trying to drum up its own online sales.

These ads could be placed inline on the tumblr dash while moving other sponsored ads to the right of the site on desktop, but making them alternate on mobile between user ads and sponsored ads.

Second, the display ads should be changed to allow tumblr users to share and further interact with ads to generate more user engagement, incentivizing more businesses and companies to build their brand status on tumblr. Tumblr has a good model for creating short diaries or daily vlogs for companies that wish to show off their products on social media. This includes smaller businesses and vlogers that want to post videos or tutorials of themselves on their blog.

Tumblr is a good site for user engagement with a pool of creative potential for anyone wanting to gauge the desire for a particular subject or piece of media, maybe even an upcoming show. Having the ability to share and comment on sponsored ads would also help advertisers by allowing them to get more bang for their buck with a considerable uptick on how users engage with that content.

Third, tumblrs sponsor day ads and banner ads are inexpensive and should be highlighted as a selling point over their competitors. Tumblr 24-hour banner ads are considerably more affordable for businesses when compared to places like twitter with their 200k price point. For the same amount of money on tumblr a business could have their company at the top of the dashboard or app for 8 whole days. Much longer and much better than the competition.

Keeping this price fixed, with a change in the price CPC is still a much more lucrative and attractive selling point than any of the competition on the internet today. I know this might not be exactly what tumblr wants to hear when it is hemorrhaging money right now, but let's look at the cost for these 24 hour daily ads and banner ads. If tumblr hypes up the price point on these ads they could see a significant rise in advertisers considering the lack of competition on tumblr and past success stories of companies who did advertise on tumblr.

At the same time larger advertisers should be encouraged to make engaging ads and blogs on tumblr that will make people want to actually go to their blogs, that then link to an external site or page. Not ads that instantly try to force you to go to some other site, by rewarding or offering special discounts for people who find a special code or something off of the actual blog. Or even for giving the same code to everyone who reblogs a certain post made by the advertiser.

Seems too good to be true? Look at “Asos” back in 2015 when they held a shirt design competition on their tumblr blog. Where they had 900 submissions, four of which were picked, and were sold out of the user generated shirts in 10 hours.

This is not the only case however, but FX ran their own campaign for the show “Man Seeking Woman” where they saw a 2.8% increase in user engagement, 86% increase in their tumblr followers, and they actually saved money through advertising on tumblr.

All this leads me to believe that tumblr actually was and continues to be the best place for brands, small businesses, and artists to develop themselves through genuine user engagement.

Finally, the “premium themes” that are available on tumblr that allow for unparalleled customizations that you hardly find elsewhere on the internet anymore. Tumblrs ability to take a variety of media sources, as well as having an unparalleled level of customization, user interconnectivity, and a vibrant artistic scene shows that it is ripe with potential.

Tumblr could still use its post+ feature, but in the same way that Discord uses its subscription service. For cosmetic changes that can be added modularly to the site or individual blogs for an additional monthly fee. In conjunction with partnering with community artists to bring small cosmetic additions to individual blogs, while paying the content creator and tumblr taking a small portion of the profits over a certain amount.

To be completely honest this is probably the hardest portion of this entire pitch to make changes to in a shorter period of time, considering all the testing and “under the hood” changes that must be made. However, I think that implementing this as well as the other changes I have proposed will bring back more foot traffic to tumblr as well as increase its revenue and profitability.

In closing, I am simply working with whatever information I was able to find online and a good amount of time invested on my part to do this. I think tumblr has a ton of potential still to return as a force for good for the communities that exist and want a change from what the internet has become. Time and time again when any company or public entity dies it was because it did not change and refused to adapt and innovate, oftentimes not at the hands of the people working everyday to keep the site running. Instead at the hands of people who dont see the value in what has fallen in their laps.

If you agree and think this is something that can be done, please reblog this post and follow me for more updates. If I don't hear back or this does not gain any traction by the end of the year, then tumblr can go to its inevitable end. I will be here sinking with the ship.

@support @engineering @music @wip @changes @photomatt

[fairydustedtheory]

Ok so here we go I guess... aka  big rant and dumpster fire life update

As you guys may have noticed, I’ve disappeared from here for a while, except for a couple hellos here and there. The last few months have been pretty hard if I’m being honest. Between exams and family issues. And... basically I now find myself with absolutely no income. I could go into a very long rant about how this wasn’t what I expected to happen and how much I hate society and how much I really hate having to post this but I think this post will be long as it is...

Long story made slightly shorter: my ex is still a shitty person and has not given me child support since august and who knows when/if he plans on ever giving it ever again. That’s basically a 900€ hole in my account that I’ve been trying to make up for by using my small savings to get by with the income I had during my course (I was earning about half the minimum wage here for a full time course so not a lot but I’m used to being on a tight budget).

The course is now over so I’m not getting any more money from that, I have no job yet, no more money saved and no money coming from the unemployment place that was supposed to give me a minimum allowance to survive for the time between the course and the future job income... and I just don’t know how I’m going to pay my bills, buy food for me and my kid. I don’t know anything. My rent payment went through a couple of days ago and my bank account is so in the red it’s scary. Especially knowing that I have no way to make it better. I have all my bills in monthly transfers so I have no way of controlling that, it’s just money going out until my bank finally decides to block my account because I keep going under my overdraft limit. And I really really wish to avoid getting to that point but I just don’t see how to avoid it with how things are going.

I mean, at least it’s not anything medical or life threatening, I know people have it worse than having no money. But being in financial crisis and not knowing how or when i’m going to be able to make things better... well, i didn’t expect that since I took the course to move toward a better life, not a worse one.

All that rambling to say that I’m putting my pride aside and posting this in the off chance that maybe anyone feels like donating to help, that would be really really appreciated. So if you ever appreciated the stories I’ve written, the gifs I made, or all the events I organized over the years, maybe you’ll consider helping out if you can. I mean, now would be the perfect time to save my sorry ass.

I have no real clue how to do this. I don’t have venmo since it’s not available where I’m from. I do have my Kofi account which seems like the simplest available option? I don’t know about fees though, fees are my enemy because I'm at a point where every cent is very much welcome and needed, I’m just clueless. 

I hate that I don’t really have anything to offer in return. I don’t know if I can offer to take prompts for ficlets or photoshop and actually have the focus and energy to follow through any of that because I’m pretty burnt out from the course/internship/exams and now this, I never feel creative when I’m exhausted and worried so I don’t want to make promises I can’t keep.

Sooo if you’re still reading after all of that, thank you, it makes me feel a little less alone. Obviously I know that most people are also in financial need and my problems aren’t extraordinary so I don’t really expect a thousand dollar miracle donation that would solve all my worries. But at least I got it off my chest and that’s already something...

[hacked-by-jake]

HAPPY BIRTHDAY TO MY BLOG! 🥳🥂

The first anniversary celebration!

(11th July 2020 - 2021)

Today is the day! The day I’ve been waiting for the last few days so excited! *-*

The birthday of my blog and thus somehow also of me!

The day of means that I am on Tumblr for exactly one year now! AHHHHHHHHHH!!

I can’t believe it.

1 year

52 weeks

365 days

8760 hours

525600 minutes

31536000 seconds

When I first started writing a 'thank you', it was still almost two months to this day. And I think I’ve started over 8 times now, so if you can read this, I’ve finally decided. Or I was running out of time.

Well, I could start somewhere and start talking emotional stuff (I’ll probably do that anyway)

But now we come to some facts first:

34 Fanfictions (That’s about 75 thousand words!)

13 Prompt list based fanfictions

16 Headcanons

60 Ask Game short stories

70 (?) Imagine Game stories

I have:

3 Masterlists

1.467 Posts

147 Drafts (xD)

AND 900 FOLLOWER 🤯(And of course a huge thank you for that!🥺🥳❤️) (The next milestone has been reached ahhhhh🥳)

BOOM! WOAHH! AHHHHHH *still crying*

However, I can hardly believe it, in some moments I really doubt that I have been here for a whole year. In other moments I feel like I’ve been here all my life (now I can’t believe it’s actually been a year) This is supposed to mean that I was allowed to spend the best times of my life here on Tumblr.💕

I am grateful for every single second! For every single one!

I have met so many great people this year!

So many incredibly warm people.

So many incredibly creative people.

So many incredibly amazing writers.

So many incredibly amazing artists.

So many incredibly funny people with great memes, slanders, videos, drawings.

❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️

So many beautiful people in one place who only know each other via the Internet, maybe not even personally. Maybe we never had contact but I see each of you. I remember each and every one of you and I appreciate every one of you!

Here on tumblr I found really great friends, such wonderful, loving, funny, nice and supportive people.

It’s just hard to believe.

I am so incredibly grateful to each and every one of you!

I am so grateful for each of your feedbacks, for your insane support, for your great comments, for every single request, for every thought, for every single message. For your compliments and your kind words, for your interest, for everything.❤️🥰

I am so honored when you just randomly send me your thoughts, whether it is about Duskwood or not. It’s so fascinating for me, no matter what message or submission, when I see that someone sent me something (anonymous or not)

The thought of someone reading, hearing, thinking, noticing something and then thinking that the person wants to share this with me is really just an honor for me. There is almost nothing more beautiful than interacting with you.🤭💕

I honestly don’t know exactly what I want to say because I don’t really want to give so much emotional nonesense of myself, but I would also like to say terribly many crying words. I’m just incredibly happy that I decided to / dared to write my first story and post it.

I really like being here on Tumblr and especially in the fandom. It’s just nice that so many people are interested in the same game and that we could make such a great community out of it. (At this point of course also a thank you to Everbyte for this wonderful game and of course thank you for creating Jake (xD))🎭💻

I had such a great time here that year, such funny moments, such funny conversations and situations. I feel a little special to be able to participate in it, hehe (I didn’t think I would feel so emotional about it xD)🙄😂

(I’m afraid I’m talking too much stuff right now) (I do..) xD

Well, I guess a year ago I just didn’t expect something like this to happen. I didn’t expect to meet such great people that I actually write so many stories that I post memes. Above all, I never expected that there will be memes about me / for me (that such talented people do it)😍

That I will never see fanarts based on my stories, that I could inspire people to write and post. That I will get aesthetics based on my stories, that I would get my personal Duskwood wallpaper. I never thought that I would get this 'reach / follower number.' That I will get such a feedback. That I will get so many requests, that I will be surrounded by such great people. Especially not that I fight over toothpaste and water and waffles or pancakes! xD🤭❤️😂

Maybe for some of you this sounds overdramatic or exaggerated (for myself, a little bit too xD) but it is the truth and all of this is just a refuge from reality and simply a place that is not connected with stress or negativity. <3

(I’m thinking all the time if I should come to the conclusion, but then something important still come to my mind xD)

>Okay, I’ll be brief now (I’ll probably repeat myself, but I don’t care)

Just the most important thing (again):

Thanks to all of you! Thanks for all the support! Thanks for your feedback! I never thought that so many people would follow me and that I am still here after a whole year. Thank you for every single submission, for every single ask, for every single message and for every single request.❤️

Thank you for the great time with you. And above all, thank you for being here. I appreciate every one of you.🥺❤️

So much love to every one of you! Feel tight hugged you all!❤️

I hope you have a wonderful day. Stay healthy and safe! Take care of yourself! Love!🎭🌹❤️

Thank you, detectives! And happy birthday!🥳

On the next year / years! 🥂🥳❤️

Cows to the power!💪🏻🐄

[niemernuet]

I'll miss week 24 of osws by one day. Again. It's turning into a habit... It may have happened bc I was distracted by a dastardly prompt from @wunderlichkind, so I blame you. 😡 (jk, I love it). It's very, very loosely based on another ficlet about shaving.

What grows in Argentina better stay in Argentina

rating: M pairing: Daniel Yule/Justin Murisier characters: Daniel Yule, Justin Murisier, Loïc Meillard, Marco Odermatt length: 900 words

“Show me the sunset!”

Justin rolled his eyes. “You know what a sunset looks like. Also you’re evading the question.”

“But I want to see the sunset!”

Justin groaned, and revealed the underside of his nose to Daniel as he stood up from the couch, and made his way towards the balcony. Once he was outside he switched cameras, raised the tablet, and held it up towards the sharp peaks.

“Satisfied?”

Daniel’s smile and the string of ‘ooooh’s and ‘aaaah’s told him the answer, and he smiled fondly at his boyfriend. He let it go on for a few seconds before he switched to the front camera again.

“Ooooh, that one’s also breathtaking,” Daniel said without missing a beat, and laid his hand over his heart..

Justin futilely tried to suppress the smile and the flush creeping over his cheeks. “Stop that!” he scolded. “You know I’m cross with you! Stop trying to deflect!” He walked back inside, and closed the door on the mountains of Chile. Daniel, a few thousand kilometres south, stayed in his place, a comfortable deck chair somewhere on a patio.

“Last time you said you liked it.”

“Because it was for charity, and you shaved it off after a month!” Justin exclaimed.

“I remember quite distinctly that you called it ‘very beautiful’ on social media!”

“Of course I wouldn’t write that it’s absolutely terrible!”

Daniel sighed, though his grin was obvious. Clearly he enjoyed their little game. Justin could not retort though because in that moment, somebody joined him in the common room.

“Have you seen my charger somew…oh, is that Daniel?” Without waiting for an answer, Marco jumped over he backrest of the couch, and plopped down next to Justin.

“Hi Daniel! Love your new ‘stache.”

“Don’t encourage him!” Justin yelled.

Daniel proudly stroked his forefinger and thumb over the small patch of hair above his lips. “Thank you, that is very kind. How are things in Chile?”

“Cool!” Marco answered. “Why did I have to take a picture of Justin with a pineapple on his head on the first evening here?”

Daniel laughed but before he could answer, something in the background made him turn around.

“Dinner’s ready…oh, is that…hi!” The camera moved a bit to the right, and suddenly an excited Loïc waved at them. He knelt down next to Daniel’s chair, and soon they were both visible again.

“Did you already show the sunset?”

Justin sighed, and switched the cameras once more. This time, however, he did not stand up from the couch.

“Whoa…” Loïc breathed. “I’m so jealous of you. It’s such a shame none of you know how to take a good picture.”

“Thanks,” Justin deadpanned, and turned the camera back again.

“You haven’t answered my question yet,” Marco said. “Was it something sexual?”

The camera wobbled as Daniel broke down laughing.

“Not as long as that thing’s in his face, no,” Justin answered in his stead.

“The moustache?” Loïc asked.

“No, the pineapple,” Marco answered.

“I think it looks quite dashing,” Loïc added.

“Not you too!” Justin exclaimed.

“I mean, as long as it stays in Argentina…” Marco said, and looked at Justin.

“I don’t know,” Daniel said, “I quite like it….would be a pity to leave it here.”

Justin threw his head back in exasperation.

“You know, we really should go to dinner,” Loïc piped up.

“I understand,” Daniel said, and stood up from the chair. “You’ve heard him, we have to go.”

“Also, as a last tip,” Loïc added from off-camera, “shaving can be something very sensual. You know, in case it does leave Argentina.”

“Goodbye!” Justin yelled, and ended the call. “Please tell me we’re having dinner too, I need…” He broke off when he saw Marco’s beet red head.

“Ahm…still a few minutes out,” Marco answered, and hastily stood up from the couch. “Okay, I’ll be…”

“Why are your cheeks glowing?”

“They’re not!” he said sharply. “I’m going to look for my charger. See you later.”

-----

“You did not seriously listen to Loïc, right? Because I am definitely not going to shave you.”

Daniel rolled his eyes, and walked with his toilet bag towards the bathroom. “Of course not. Though he did try to give me helpful tips several times…that man knows no boundaries.”

Justin cackled. “He’s your problem now.”

Daniel snorted, and put the things in the bag back where they belonged. Justin walked past the open door with a pair of sneakers. When he returned, Daniel stood still in front of the mirror, shaving cream in one hand, razor in the other.

“Hurry up!” Justin urged, and took another pile of clothes out of his bag. “The faster this thing under your nose is gone, the faster we can get to the important stuff.”

Daniel looked at the utensils in his hands, then at his mirror image again. “I don’t know…would it really be that bad if I left it?”

“YES!” Justin yelled from the living room.

“It’s kinda grown on me,” Daniel muse. “I think it makes me look sophisticated.”

“Counterargument!” Justin said from the next room over.

Daniel waited but other than silence, nothing followed.

“Yes?” he asked. He turned around but could not take one step because in that moment, Justin appeared in the door.

Completely naked.

With blatant hunger Daniel stared at his boyfriend.

“Compelling,” he admitted with his eyes glued to Justin’s half-hard dick.

“Thought so,” Justin said. “If you need me, I’ll be in the bedroom.”

It was a wonder Daniel did not cut himself with the speed he shaved his moustache off, and barely two minutes later he stormed into the bedroom, and tackled Justin on the bed.

“Welcome back,” Justin panted between urgent, needy kisses. “I’ve missed you.”

Daniel left Justin’s lips, and wandered further down his jaw until he found his earlobe, and bit down. Justin moaned, and reflexively jerked his hips when Daniel’s hand wrapped around his dick.

“I’ve missed you too,” Daniel growled.

[fatehbaz]

There is this desert wildflower -- a rare plant, an endemic species -- known to inhabit only about 10 acres of land along the base of the Silver Peak Range at Rhyolite Ridge. The plant is small, short, unimposing. The plant’s home -- within Nevada borders, a bit north of Death Valley, a bit west of Tonopah, and a bit east of the Inyo Mountains and the desert valley below -- sits near the ecological transition zone between the Great Basin ecoregion and the Mojave Desert.

Surveillance cameras, installed in the desert, now monitor the wildflowers.

The plant: Tiehm’s buckwheat (Eriogonum tiehmii). More than half of all of the surviving plants -- more than half of the species -- were killed or damaged in summer 2020.

Amidst ongoing mining surveys in the region, Australian mining company ioneer is seeking a permit to open a lithium mine at Rhyolite Ridge. If their plans are approved, it has been estimated that about 50% to 75% of Tiehm’s buckwheat will be destroyed.

So of course, there is controversy. In that context, the mine developer, politicians, land management agencies, the governor’s office, field ecologists, and environmental groups are all closely watching the creature. And they’re all arguing fiercely over what, exactly, happened in summer 2020 that led to the plant’s death and destruction.

-------

I’d been following this controversy, but it wasn’t until I read a recent article that I was able to see the comments of multiple biologists brought together in one place. Daniel Rothberg, writing for The Nevada Independent, synthesized a lot of the ongoing controversy and research in an enlightening article from 10 January 2021, where he cites plenty of biologists with, at times, conflicting ideas about what was responsible for the destruction. (Most of the quotes here can be found/verified in that article. Basically, all I’m doing here is summarizing Rothberg’s reporting, so I’d recommend just checking out his article.)

-------

In 2019, after the Center for Biological Diversity petitioned state and federal agencies to list the plant as endangered, the Australian mining company basically said (here, in Rothberg’s words) “that a mitigation proposal for Tiehm’s buckwheat,” rather than full-blown legal protections, ‘would maintain the species” adequately, with the company apparently preemptively deflecting criticism by “emphasizing the need for more lithium in supply chains for batteries and electric vehicles.”

So, in September 2020, it was announced that thousands of the plants had recently been found dead, with thousands more damaged.

In October 2020, a supervisory biologist (Jim Morefield) with the Nevada Department of Natural Heritage submitted a report stating that “of about 44,000 individuals, one could estimate that 16,000 plants were killed [in summer 2020] and another 11,000 damaged, leaving about 17,000 plants undamaged as of September 17 [2020].”

Some botanists -- working for environmental groups, universities, and land management agencies -- are saying that the “staggering” number of damaged plants and the extremely sudden occurrence of the damage suggest that the plants might’ve been targeted purposely by humans. (A field survey sponsored by the Center for Biological Diversity submitted: “The buckwheats appear to have been dug up by small shovels or spades.”)

Other scientists -- including some working for land management agencies, universities, or otherwise contracted by the lithium mine company -- say that rodents were responsible. This claim (about rodents) raises more questions: If rodents did engage in herbivory (which hadn’t previously seemed to affect this buckwheat species, especially at such scale and pace), then what would’ve driven the rodents to do suddenly harvest buckwheat?

-------

Settler-colonial land management agencies can’t find a consensus about what happened.

Rodents? The U.S. Fish and Wildlife Service visited the site to assess evidence of rodent herbivory on the buckwheat. They claimed that white-tailed antelope ground squirrels might’ve been the most likely responsible vandal.  The study’s lead author, a botanist from the region, acknowledged the tension: “Many biologists wrote into the Fish and Wildlife Service with their opinions that this could not possibly have been caused by rodents [...].”

The Nevada Department of Wildlife also investigated the site and instead reported that, if rodents had indeed been responsible, the damage looks more consistent with foraging behavior of pocket gophers. But even the department’s director also added: “the scale over which the disturbance occurred by far exceeds known home range size for an individual pocket gopher” and also doubted that multiple pocket gophers would simultaneously shift to targeting the buckwheat, especially at such a scale.

Meanwhile, the Nevada Department of Natural Heritage report on the damage estimated that, as summarized by Rothberg’s article: “if 27,000 buckwheat plants were damaged or killed, 900 individual rodents would have had to have consumed one plant per day for the course of a month.”

To be fair, some other ecologists in the region, some cited in Rothberg’s article, do reference how 2020 was the driest year on record for the Great Basin, and these ecologists acknowledge that they’ve seen some evidence of rodents’ herbivory in times of drought. Part of the implication: Anthropogenic climate change and associated sudden drought/heat might drive rodents to rapidly change their habits and target unusual foraging items, like the buckwheat.

-------

Of course, James Calaway, executive chariman for the mining company ioneer, referencing the USFWS study (the one that name-drops white-tailed antelope ground squirrels as the culprit), said that the study “conclusively shows that the destruction of Tiehm’s buckwheat at Rhyolite Ridge discovered in mid-September was exclusively animal caused.”

“Conclusively.” OK.

Patrick Donnelly, director of the Center for Biological Diversity, speaking about the origin of the destruction, said recently about the source of the destruction (quoted in the Las Vegas Sun): “It does not matter if it was a squirrel or a kangaroo or aliens or James Calaway himself. The plant needs to be listed under the Endangered Species Act. It should have been listed when we discovered the damage."

Ben Grady is president of the Eriogonum Society (Eriogonum being the genus/family name for buckwheat) and a botanist at Ripon College. As quoted in Rothberg’s article: “I study buckwheat, and normally there is not a lot of herbivory on buckwheat.”

Naomi Fraga is the director of conservation at the California Botanic Garden. Working with the Center for Biological Diversity, she visited the buckwheat site to perform an assessment of the damage. As quoted in Rothberg’s article, speaking about the USFWS’s study: “I just don’t think it’s a case-closed.” Fraga, referencing the possibility that rodents were responsible: “It would be extraordinary.” Also Fraga: “That is one of the largest puzzles that is hard to reconcile with a natural event: the targeted nature, how specific it was and that it occurred across a whole range of the species.”

-------

See photos of the desert wildflower, and read more: Daniel Rothberg. “The curious case of a rare plant’s destruction raises further questions about the extinction crisis, climate change and the role of humans.” The Nevada Independent. 10 January 2021.

Interesting plant, interesting tale.

[grittyreadsfic]

hello my friends, one singular person asked for this weeks ago so i’m here with my most unhinged rec list yet: tk and nolan.

now, this one was hard to reign in, so i really didn’t. this pairing had maybe 230 fics in the tag when i first started reading hockey fic, and it’s now over 900, and i’ve read far too many of them, and that makes it so hard to parse it down. so i just...didn't!

so with that said, please enjoy so you want to get into tknp: a beginners guide to a classic case of idiots to lovers

i told myself that i couldn’t rec an author’s entire body of work but then i remembered this is my blog and i do what i want, so i did some consolidating. here’s a list of the quintessential authors for this pairing, you can start at any of their profiles and pick any of their fics at random, and it’ll be one of the best ones for the pairing, hands down.

therainbowsedge: i’d start with the summer camp fic, or the sex toys one, as both beautifully capture the true idiots to lovers nature of this pairing, but just top tier writing all around

manybumblebees: the wedding fic is so tender and port stanley is a classic, but literally pick any single fic and you’ll have a perfect tknp fic. i’m not kidding

jamesvanriemsdick: their tknp fics in their series are some of the hidden gems of this pairing (the tk heartbeat fic makes me LOSE it) but the delaware fic or the seattle fic…..there’s really something for every mood

catchascatchcan: start with era of gods because i could write literal essays on how it’s some of the best fantasy worldbuilding i’ve ever read, but then just read everything else on their account, including non tknp fics. you won’t regret it

hackysack: ao3 user hackysack has written one of two timeloop fics that i absolutely adore, and i thought about just calling that one out in particular, but all of their work deserves the attention

canary: nothing to prove was the first tknp fic i ever read and i was immediately hooked. all of their fics are a good starting place for the pairing, and just really give you a feeling for the pairing

and now, for the fic recs!

to be, despite it all by smudgedfreckles

summary: or, nolan patrick’s gender thesis, by travis konecny.

why i love it: there’s not a lot ofo nonbinary characters in media, even in fic, but this fic’s treatment of nolan and their path to figuring out their gender just feels so real and made me feel so seen. tk’s characterization is also just top notch, and it’s just a super sweet story about two people who love each other

last ones standing by makeit_takeit

summary: If you’re committed to finding your future spouse, reads the last line of the ad, and are ready to look at yourself and your love life in a whole new way, apply now.

At the bottom of the ad there’s a link, and Travis finds his finger hovering over the screen, lip still caught between his teeth.

“I mean,” he says very reasonably, speaking out loud to his empty apartment like some sort of possibly-crazy person, “just applying doesn’t mean anything. Maybe I just fill it out, and see what happens. It’s not like I’m really gonna get picked to be on TV, come on.”

He snorts out loud, just to show his apartment he hasn’t lost his grip on reality or anything; he fully understands how ludicrous that would be.

Then he clicks the link anyway, because yolo or whatever.

why i love it: what part of a married at first sight fic doesn’t make you want to immediately dive right in? the concept is fun, the execution is absolutely flawless, and it captures their dynamic so well while letting it develop naturally

motivation by connectknee

summary: Kevin knows when to back off, the article said. He knows just when to shut up and leave Patty alone, something Travis has never known how to do.

why i love it: the thing i love about this pairing is that tk is loud and in your face, and nolan’s more reserved, a little quieter, a little harder to read. this fic does a really great job of exploring how tk could feel like maybe he’s just a bit too much and is one of my favorites in terms of miscommunication

a tenderness grows by rusesdeguerre

summary: Nolan wouldn’t say that landing a job as the Philadelphia Flyers’ psychotic and probably clinically insane mascot was a childhood dream of his. Maybe tangentially: playing pond hockey in –30°C weather and pretending to be Sidney Crosby is practically a rite of passage when you grow up in Manitoba. That, and experiencing the distinct displeasure that is thousands of mosquitoes sucking your blood out when your father drags you on a father-son camping trip into the backwoods of the northern Canadian Prairies.

why i love it: this was the first fic i recced on this blog, and i stand by that decision. a fic where nolan is not only not a hockey player, but is in fact the person in the gritty suit? absolutely perfect, and so charming from start to finish

meet me at my window by springsteen

summary: Travis has lived in Philadelphia for a few years now, long enough to know there isn’t a major city in America where superheroes don’t destroy an entire city block trying to save humanity or whatever. He can deal with all the super-shit, but Travis did not sign up for getting woken up from a deep sleep because some fucker’s trying to break in through his window.

(5 times the super-villain known as "The Cat" breaks into Travis's apartment, plus 1 time Travis invites him in.)

why i love it: there’s a lot of things to love here, but the concept is just absolutely one of my all time favorite aus ever. it’s fun and charming and the perfect glimpse into a world where heroes and villains exist, and what it’s like just to be a run of the mill kind of guy existing in it. tk and nolan’s back and forth in this make it so engaging, and it’s such a top tier fic

body’s in trouble by cloudsandpassingevents

summary: “Oh, sorry,” someone says. “Didn’t know anyone else was here.”

Nolan freezes, then turns around very slowly. When he looks up, Nicklas fucking Backstrom is standing behind him in a hoodie and baggy sweats, holding the biggest bag of Swedish Fish Nolan’s ever seen in his life in one hand.

“Uh,” Nolan says around the pop tart between his teeth. “Yeah.”

What the fuck, his brain helpfully supplies.

why i love it: from nolan’s inner voice, to the way the author explores all the dynamics within the team, to the way they write the unexpected but actually, it kind of makes sense friendship between nolan and backstrom, is just absolutely fantastic. there’s a lot of moments that circle back and build on each other in a way that really just makes it super compelling

rhizomatic foundations by lighthousetowers

summary: Twenty days after he moves in with Kevin Hayes, twenty days – three months, five months, depending on how you look at it – after not talking to TK, TK shows up at the front door with a plant the size of a basketball in his hands.

TK grins. "Patty, meet Reginald." He lifts up the plant. "Reggie, meet Patty. He's going to be your new - caretaker."

"What the fuck," says Nolan, not moving a single muscle.

Or: That Nolan can hear the plant talk might as well just happen.

why i love it: this is probably my favorite magical realism fic just about ever. it’s fun and charming and a little weird, but in the best possible way. there’s such a wonderful narrative in it, and lighthousetowers always has such beautiful writing, and it really shines in this one. the dialogue and nolan’s characterization are also part of what set it apart for me as one of the best tknp fics

in the dark of any town by mengetpegged

summary: If the voice has an accent at all, it’s a flat prairie Canadian, with none of G’s French-Canadian softness at the edges. But mostly, the accent is just ‘pissed off,’ which TK believes is a default setting for ghosts.

“Who are you?” TK asks, and he doesn’t like how strained his voice sounds, doesn’t like the tinge of anxiety tinting the rise of his question. He tries to regulate his breaths—in through his nose, hold, out through his mouth—but it feels like he’s not getting enough oxygen, which makes him panic even more.

“Someone with a fucking migraine, dickhead,” the voice says. “So keep the lights off and shut the hell up.”

(or: Nolan Patrick, Hotel X Ghost)

why i love it: i’m usually not super into ghost fics, both the spooky kind and the nonspooky kind, but this one is a rare exception. it’s charming and fun and tender and it’s got some of, in my opinion, the best characterization of tk and nolan in any fic. the way the author writes their dynamic and their dialogue is just unmatched

lets_make_this_moment_a_crime.mp3 by honeydripping

summary: Travis meets Nolan at a Midtown show in 2002 when he punches Nolan in the face. He can’t help it, “Like A Movie” just goes off.

But he does feel guilty about it.

or

TK and Patty work at a bakery together. They go to punk shows to pass the time.

why i love it: idk if anyone asked for an early 2000s emo/punk/alt au but wow! i sure am glad it exists! really the vibes of this fic, as silly as that sounds, are absolutely unmatched. i love the structure with the music, the development of their relationship, and just everything about how the author wrote the setting (there’s this whole thing with tattoos in it that makes me feel absolutely insane)

you’re ripped at every edge by you’re a masterpiece by conformityissuicide

summary: “Ugh, look, this yoga teacher has it out for me, man. And I can’t go back there without at least having some of the basics down. I’ve got to win this battle.”

“Yoga isn’t really something you win at,” Hartsy starts.

Travis cuts him off, “You can win at anything if you try hard enough.”

+++

OR that time Nolan's a grumpy yoga teacher and Travis realizes he wants to bone him and prove him wrong about Travis' non-existent yoga abilities.

why i love it: listen, if you want tknp, at least one of them has to be an idiot, and this tk absolutely captures the obliviousness i love to see in him in fic. it’s such a great characterization of them both and such a great concept (and even better execution)

you form a terror pack (and i’m aware of that) by dalmatienne

summary: “Can I help you?” TK snarks, both eyebrows hiked up in a way that has earned her many elbow checks to the ribs.

The chick looks down her nose, long thick eyelashes fluttering. Red-bitten lips part to blow a florid pink bubble and TK can smell the chemical sweetness when it pops.

“Yeah,” she says in this monotonous voice that seems almost at odds with her bubble gum and neon skates. She jams her stopper into TK’s thigh again, literally inches away from where it’d really hurt. “Tie ‘em.”

why i love it: to be honest, i generally don’t read rule 63 within hrpf, but this one is just absolutely knocks it out of the park. the concept (i fuckin’ love roller derby), the characterization of nolan, the pacing, the rituals, the tone of the entire fic, it’s just all around a perfect read from start to finish

thrills and grills by bitter_leaf

summary: Travis can’t even begin to wonder what he did in a previous life to incur the wrath of this fucking cook. Travis thinks he’s a nice person, doesn’t conduct himself in any way that could be considered particularly dickish, and unless this guy has some sort of issue with hockey bros or people from the boonies, he’s not sure how he started shit without even knowing.

__

Patty has a vendetta. Travis just wants to eat his eggs in peace.

why i love it: honestly this is the enemies to lovers fic i’ve been waiting for. i remember seeing the reddit post when it first went viral and thinking it would make such a great fic premise, so stumbling across this one was just so wonderful. super engaging and fun and so hilarious to read!

nothing but room for you by fightingfuries

summary: When his agent tells him he’s going to be traded to the Devils, Nolan isn't sure how he feels about it. Might be easier if he was going somewhere farther away, like California or fucking Florida. Somewhere sun-soaked and foreign. Someplace so different from Philadelphia that he can forget he ever played for the Flyers, forget everything that happened there.

Or Nolan fucks up, gets traded, gets his shit together and falls in love. Not necessarily in that order.

why i love it: i cannot stress to you how much i love trade fics, and this one is one of my absolute favorites. the trade to the devils-so close to philly, still, but there’s more to distance than physical miles-was such an excellent choice and the split timeline adds so much to the narrative, and the emotions are real and messy and complicated in the best way

a couple of runaways (i’m glad you stayed) by overturnedgoal

summary: The person in the video he’s watching is super annoying. Some obnoxious holier than thou granola type who keeps talking about their environmental impact as if they aren’t driving a gas guzzler around, but the basic idea of living in a van, driving around wherever, camping all the time, just going hiking and swimming and seeing the whole country? It sounds pretty dope, honestly.

why i love it: i like to watch tours and conversions of vans/buses into tiny homes as a self soothing method, and this fic has the same impact that watching those do. it’s such a fun concept, and it’s so fuckin’ soft, and the dialouge between tk and nolan is just *chef’s kiss*

all candor and style in the crook of your smile by p3trichor

summary: It’s a photo of Nolan on his knees with someones’ fingers in his mouth, lips slick with spit. Travis flicks by it almost too fast and he’s only got seconds to decide if he wants to screenshot it, if he wants to just give up the ghost right then and there. Except Travis’s phone freezes momentarily and then the group refreshes, sidcros87, Bert59 and 14 others took a screenshot!

It’s gone before Travis even has time to process it and he already wasted his replay of the day on a stupid video of a stupid fish that Hayes caught.

Can you send me that screenshot Travis texts Bertuzzi before he can overthink it, his dick already stirring in his sweats. Tuzzi sends back the cry-laughing emoji and then the screenshot before Travis can be too annoyed at him.

Or, Nolan is being weird about Travis's break-up and TK is maybe not straight.

why i love it: i genuinely don’t think i have words for the amount i love this fic. it took me forever to actually read, but it’s absolutely one of my favorite fics, and it’s an absolutely riot to read. carter’s meddling and the presence of tyler bertuzzi both make it extra fun, in my humble opinion

[cutesilyo]

Notes and References for i know your eyes in the morning sun

Hi! These are notes and references for my IndoPhil fic i know your eyes in the morning sun, so please check it out before reading this!

Title: i know your eyes in the morning sun Summary: When a homesick Indonesia is unexpectedly taken out of his meeting for a day trip in Rome with Philippines, he isn't expecting much more than exhaustion ahead of him. Instead, what happens is a whirlwind of food, fun, and a surprising amount of reflection on their histories and differences as nations. And as he looks deeper and deeper in the other nation's bright eyes, he learns to come to terms with the feelings he's been ignoring for far, far too long. Alternatively: a nation who's too attached to the past goes on a date with a nation whose entire philosophy is built on trying to live in the moment. Yes, there is kissing involved. Read on: AO3 | FF.net

Scene 1: Pizza al taglio

As coincidence would have it, the G20 2021 Summit actually will be held in Rome, Italy. However, it’ll be on the end of October rather than the end of September like how its depicted in the fic. I’m also very much ignoring the COVID-19 pandemic. Pretend it never happened.

Borobudur is the largest Buddhist temple in the world, found in the island of Java, Indonesia. It was built way back in the 7th Century and it's probably Indonesia's top most visited site.

Terang bulan is basically like a really large, fluffy, folded pancake. It also has a variety of different names and is also eaten in Brunei, Malaysia, and Singapore.

If you could have a convenience store dedicated solely to pizza, that's what pizza al taglio establishments are like. Its literal translation is pizza by the cut, and since it's a lot more common to find in Rome than in other places in Italy, it's also called Roman-style pizza. The layout for the al taglio shop that Indonesia and Philippines go to is inspired from the shop that me and my family went to: a small family establishment just a short walk away from the Vatican.

You can actually find a recipe for Indonesia’s arugula and mozzarella pizza here: https://shared.publicmediaconnect.org/docs/atk/Pizza_Taglio_Cooks_Illustrated.pdf

Scene 2: Souvenir store + Bus stop

Indonesian rupiahs are notoriously hyperinflated, so the 15 euros that Philippines uses to buy the keychains convert to 250k+ rupiahs. That's around 50k short for actually being able to buy a local economy flight on Lion Air. For comparison, the same amount of euros convert to approximately 900 Philippine pesos. It’s also a few hundred pesos short of buying a local economy flight on Cebu Pacific.

There actually was a point when a G20 meeting was held in the Coliseum. It was the G20 culture ministers meeting just a few months ago, in July 2021.

Yes, on top of the thousands of festivals we already have, Filipinos also celebrate Oktoberfest! It's more of an excuse for local beer companies to shamelessly promote their product and encourage drinking fests on a massive scale, but a more legitimate Oktoberfest celebration is organized by the German Club in Manila. Lucky Philippines gets to celebrate it authentically in Munich with the German brothers, who historically aimed to conquer the Philippines before America managed to stake his claim. So if you sense that Germany is being oddly shy towards Philippines here, that's just Germany being embarrassed because of their history.

Italy's major international airport in Rome is Aeroporto Internazionale di Roma–Fiumicino "Leonardo da Vinci", so you generally just call it Fiumicino for short. A possible travel route for flying from the Philippines to Italy is Clark-Dubai-Rome, and another is Manila-Hong Kong-Rome.

Scene 3: Gianicolo

Bali, Boracay, and El Nido are beaches that serve as major tourist destinations.

Vietnam has already been mentioned to be a menace when she's drunk in her most recent character introduction. Laos is at the top of ASEAN when it comes to alcohol consumption, with the average Laotian drinking seven liters of pure alcohol every year.

Indonesia is sometimes known as the Invisible Nation. What this means to say is that there have not been many things that Indonesia has done that made massive waves on the global scale. From what I’ve read, this seems to have been an especially popular sentiment among Western analysts during the Cold War.

Australia's awkward attempt at an apology is a reference to when the Australian government had allegedly monitored and spied on the phone calls of several Indonesian officials. Indonesia and Australia have a history that goes far deeper than that though.

Monas is a common abbreviation for Indonesia's Monumen Nasional, proudly standing tall in the middle of Merdeka Square as a commemoration of the fight for Indonesian independence. Taman Surapati is a large, chill public park; it also has a monument dedicated to commemorating ASEAN there. Both are located in Jakarta, Indonesia's capital. Meanwhile, Philippines' mention of Luneta refers to Luneta Park. It's also known as Rizal Park, as it's the place where the national hero Jose Rizal was executed for the influence he had in encouraging the fight for Philippine independence.

In Rome, there are seven major hills: they formed the geographical heart of Ancient Rome, with Palatino and Campidoglio as the most significant given how connected they were to Rome's founding and Rome's religion. Gianicolo is outside the boundaries of Ancient Rome, and as such, it isn't counted among the seven hills. It is dedicated to the Roman god Janus and was a place for the augurs to divine the will of the gods — kind of like a prophecy, if a prophecy could be divined from bird entrails. Now it's a great spot for a scenic view of modern Rome which features, among other things, a large statue of Giuseppe Garibaldi. Garibaldi was a major figure in the Italian Reunification.

Nusantara means many different things, but in the era of the Majapahit empire, it referred to the vassal kingdoms in what is now modern-day Malaysia, Singapore, Brunei, Timor Leste, and the southern parts of modern-day Thailand and Philippines. Modern usage of the word in Indonesia generally refers to the Indonesian archipelago, but it can also be used to refer to the entirety of maritime Southeast Asia. Culturally and historically, Southeast Asia is divided into the mainland region (the countries connected to the Asian continent: Vietnam, Thailand, Cambodia, Laos, Myanmar) and maritime (the countries that are islands and archipelagos: Malaysia, Indonesia, Singapore, Brunei, Philippines).

Italy, together with the United Kingdom, is the largest European migration destination for Filipinos. The largest migration destination for Filipinos in general is America.

Shout-out to Ro-na for this wonderful headcanon of Philippines being sickly in his early days as a Spanish colony! The galleon ships used to facilitate trade between the Philippines and Mexico (perhaps the Philippines' most major contribution to the Spanish crown) would often be attacked by pirates or destroyed in typhoons, especially in the first few decades.

Majapahit and Srivijaya are only two of pre-colonial Indonesia's many powerful empires. A lot of the pre-colonial stuff has been simplified for brevity's sake, but a brief summary of it all basically goes like this: pre-colonial Indonesia was involved with everyone in maritime SEA, where everyone traded with each other; and mainland SEA was non-stop fighting where the major powers were the empires that would later become Vietnam and the Khmer empire that would influence everyone else in mainland SEA. You can find a more detailed look into mainland SEA history by Gemu in her posts here, who is my main influence for everything mainland SEA-related.

A young Brunei picking flowers for a young Philippines is a reference to all the marriages that had occurred between their nobility during the pre-colonial era.

Scene 4: Apartment

The turtle fountain in Rome is a real thing: Fontana delle Tartarughe was originally designed with dolphins in mind, but the dolphins were removed and replaced by turtles. In fandom, you usually see Philippines calling Indonesia kuya, which is Tagalog for older brother. In at least one Indonesian language (I can't remember which one at the moment, sorry!), kuya means turtle.

Tondo, Seludong, Butuan, Sulu, Sugbu, and Panay are all polities in pre-colonial Philippines, two for each of the main island groups in the country: Luzon in the north, Mindanao in the south, and Visayas in the middle. Unlike pre-colonial Indonesia, the societies in the Philippines were never united by a single kingdom or empire; the Philippine islands were only united through the efforts of Spanish and American colonization.

Filipinos tend to sing a lot. Many of us are really good at it. Karaoke is really popular here.

Philippines' PIN code of 8862 is a reference to when ASEAN was founded: August 8, 1962. The founding members were Philippines, Indonesia, Malaysia, Singapore, and Thailand.

This might be as good of a time as ever for me to mention that I am depicting Philippines and Indonesia as Catholic and Muslim respectively. Filipinos are predominantly Catholic and the Philippines is the largest Catholic country in Asia, while Indonesia has a number of official religions and is the largest Muslim nation in the world.

Special thanks to Desa for helping me with Indonesia's prayer times! Normally, Muslims pray five times a day, but when travelling Muslims are allowed to pray only three times. This is called Qasr salah, or Qasr sholat in Indonesia. What is usually Fajr (called Subuh in Indonesia), Zuhr, Asr, Magrib, and Isha becomes only Fajr, Zuhr-Asr, and Mahgrib-Isha; essentially, without getting into the specifics of time, a prayer for sunrise, afternoon, and night. The mosques will remind everyone when it's prayer time with adhan (called adzan in Indonesia), but in non-Muslim countries abroad, many Muslims have to use websites and apps to keep track. Something I didn't mention in the fic is that Rome actually has the largest mosque in the Western world, Moschea di Roma, so Indonesia could have potentially prayed there. 

Scene 5: Apartment dinner table

Sholat wouldn’t take Indonesia more than a few minutes, so imagine that he did something else while waiting for Philippines to finish cooking.

Baked fish with sliced lemons is a meal that got served to me a lot in Italy. Chop suey is Chinese, but China has had a significant cultural influence for most of Southeast Asia throughout history; the Indonesian version is known as kap cay. Indomie Mi Goreng is a particularly tasty and famous kind of instant noodles from Indonesia. It's very popular in many Asian countries. Indonesia doesn’t drink, but Philippines is drinking white wine because that’s what you’re supposed to do when eating fish. Red wine goes with meat.

Admittedly, this is my own personal headcanon, but I like to think of Philippines living in Spain with the other Spanish colonies while everyone else in maritime SEA were left behind to live in their own countries. It's my own neat Hetalia universe explanation for how much Spanish influence there is in Filipino culture, and how isolated Filipinos can sometimes feel among their neighbors.

I do think that Philippines would have a Hispanic-sounding human name, but I've never really settled on what name actually would be: in fandom, Felipe, Lorenzo, and Jaime get thrown around a lot. In contrast, it seems like most people have settled on Dirga (short for Dirgantara) for Indonesia.

Philippines is sometimes called as la colonia abandonada in Spanish sources: the abandoned colony. Because the Philippines was so far away, Spain couldn't manage the colony directly and had to rely on Mexico/Nueva España to do the dirty work until Mexico became independent. This led to a more relaxed manner in how the country was managed for most of its Spanish colonial life; some scholars even go as far as saying that Spain's treatment of the Philippines was kinder than Spain's treatment of Latin America. I don't really agree — it was different, sure, but it wasn't kind in the least.

Contrast that with Indonesia as the largest and most important colony of the Dutch empire. Aside from all the money and economic prosperity that Indonesia gave to the empire, you'll also find many Dutch songs and hymns that are all praises to Indonesia. Much of the research in Indonesian history, ethnography, and archeology was made possible because of Dutch interest and support; until now, the Netherlands remains to be Europe's leader when it comes to Indonesian studies. This isn't to say that Netherlands treated Indonesia well, however.

After the Japanese occupation of Indonesia in WW2, Netherlands fought to keep power over the archipelago. Needless to say, the Netherlands failed. Indonesia was recognized as an independent country soon after.

Indië is the Dutch colonial name for Indonesia.

APEC is the Asia-Pacific Economic Cooperation, of which Philippines and Indonesia (and Thailand!) are members.

Scene 6 + 7: Apartment bedroom

What was Philippines doing in the 1920s, you ask? Being an American colony and trying to lobby for laws that would hasten his independence. Indonesia was in the middle of what’s called the Indonesian National Awakening; all the different peoples under Indonesia were beginning to come together and unite to fight for a single independent nation.

As a tarsier, Pien is actually supposed to be nocturnal; he shouldn't be sleeping at night at all. Maybe he just got jet lagged? Who knows.

BL stands for the boy's love genre of TV series. For years, Thailand had been the lead when it came to BL production with shows like TharnType and SOTUS. Recently, the Philippines has also been developing BL series — Gameboys specifically had achieved worldwide acclaim and is distributed globally through Netflix.

Filipino languages tend to have more complex verb conjugation and sentence structure compared to Bahasa Melayu and Bahasa Indonesia. The linguistic explanation for this is that most of the Filipino languages are based on the older Proto-Malayo-Polynesian language while Bahasa Melayu and Bahasa Indonesia are based on the newer, more simplified descendants of Proto-Malayo-Polynesian.

Pramoedya Ananta Toer was an Indonesian author that focused a lot of his work on nationalistic sentiments. He has a quote on bravery that I really like: Dalam hidup kita, cuma satu yang kita punya, yaitu keberanian. Kalau tidak punya itu, lantas apa harga hidup kita ini? Loosely translated, this reads as: In our life, we only have one thing, which is bravery. If it’s not, what is the value of our life?

Indonesia, as a large archipelago in the Pacific Ring of Fire, has a lot of active volcanoes. In contrast, the Philippines is regularly hit by tens of typhoons annually.

There are an estimated 12 million Filipinos overseas, and this number consistently rises through the years. It's one of the largest diaspora populations: name a country, you'll probably find a Filipino working there somewhere. OFWs (Overseas Filipino Workers) account for 10% of the country's population and the remittances they send back to their families account for 10% of the country's GDP. Indonesia has a similar phenomenon with TKIs (Tenaga Kerja Indonesia), of which there are 4.5 million worldwide.

Post-independence, Indonesia was very paranoid over Western influence in Southeast Asia. In that same time period, Philippine delegates to international conferences would always speak of democracy and the looming threat of Communism; even though most of the Asian delegates would prefer to move past Western problems and disputes to focus on a united Asia.

Telenovelas are soap operas produced in Latin America. They became popular in Southeast Asia as they were distributed and remade here. The Indonesian equivalent is the sinetron, and the Filipino equivalent is the teleserye.

Additionally, I cannot stress enough how much this fic is built on the foundations laid by others. I’ve already mentioned how much I took inspiration from Gemu’s depiction of mainland SEA, but I also credit Indonesia’s thing for temples to Desa; the passive-aggressive energy between Thailand and Philippines to Hali; amnesiac Piri to Koko, Kopi, and Sopas (among the many). There are a dozen other things I can attribute to a huge assortment of writers and artists: that Singapore has trouble remembering his pre-colonial roots as well, that Piri might have had a good relationship with Romano, Piri’s general flirty and flighty attitude, Indonesia’s awkwardness and big brother aura, etcetera, etcetera. If you’re someone that has been contributing to the SEA fandom these past few months, thank you. Thank you so much. 

[chelsfic]

Oh goodness, congrats on 900!! prompt wise Forget it, you’re a fucking asshole with good old Kandomere? If you feel so inclined.

Thank you so much for requesting Kandomere! God, I love this elf. This one was so fun to write. I kind of want to make it into a longer fic...

Being assigned as Agent Kandomere’s partner is an honor and a privilege of which you’re well aware. As a junior agent, not to mention a human, it’s impossible to forget the difference in your status--both professional and social. And Kandomere isn’t exactly one to let you forget.

Still, you like to think you’ve proven yourself to the haughty, exacting elf over your months working together. If nothing else, he hasn’t demanded your reassignment yet. That’s something. Especially considering the string of partners he burned through before you came along. It gives you a secret thrill to think that he’s pleased with you...maybe even impressed. You feel you have a lot to prove, as a new agent, as a human and...well, there’s the matter of your budding crush on the impossibly attractive elf.

Ugh. Just thinking of it makes you burn with humiliation. The thought of being lumped in with the elf-chasers...humans without dignity who grovel at elves’ feet just for a chance to sleep with them... That is not you. 

But, your stupid crush won’t be an issue much longer because no matter how much you respect this man, no matter how competent he is, no matter how physically alluring--he is still an asshole. 

---

“I can’t believe you let me walk into that situation blind!” you fume, sliding into the cool leather passenger seat of Kandomere’s car. You hate his stupid luxury vehicle and his stupid thousand dollar suits and his stupid handsome face. You’re positively shaking with rage and lingering fear after the shit show that he just subjected you to.

Kandomere, to his credit, looks rattled. His silver-flecked eyes widen as he watches you come apart.

“Y/N, I didn’t realize how far things would go. If I had--”

“Oh, of course not!” you snarl, and you're mortified to feel tears pricking your eyes. “You think the whole world is just as cold and calculating as you--”

Kandomere interjects with an edge of anger in his voice, “I’m not--”

“I think I deserve to speak now, don’t you think?” you growl. “How do you think it made me feel to have all of those elves looking down on me? To be forced to kneel at their feet like some kind of--some kind of--”

You can’t complete the sentence. Your pride and dignity are mortally wounded. You thought you were partners. You thought Kandomere respected you. You even thought...in your secret self...that maybe he was starting to think of you as more than a colleague. Stupid!

---

All Kandomere tells you about the undercover assignment is that you’ll be going to a nightclub in Elf Town. You’ve been following a lead on a ring of drug dealers peddling Fairy Dust, a new concoction that causes hallucinations and dangerous magical anomalies. For elves and orcs it’s a mind altering party drug. For humans it can be dangerously addictive and even lethal.

You don’t question when Kandomere asks you to wear something flashy and revealing--it seems appropriate to the setting. When he undoes the silver gorget from around his neck and places it on yours you just go with it. Some kind of elven fashion statement. 

“Just follow my lead,” he says to you as he pulls up to the valet. “You don’t even need to talk. You’re here for...verisimilitude.”

Whatever the fuck that means… This is fine. It’s all fine because you trust your partner.

It isn’t until you get inside that you realize how far he’s betrayed you. The club is dimly lit, small cocktail tables are arranged around a dance floor. Everywhere there are elves sitting, dancing, socializing. And at their feet, kneeling like subservient slaves, sit humans. Your eyes flash to Kandomere’s, broadcasting your discomfort. He shakes his head infinitesimally at you and leads you into the throng with a hand on your arm.

The night is pure torture for you. Does Kandomere not realize how mortifying it is to be seen as his sex slave? The fact that you’ve nursed foolish feelings for him only makes it worse. This is what humans are in his world. Subservient, unimportant, relegated to groveling at their masters’ feet. 

Kandomere tracks down the dealer, insinuating both of you into his circle near the back of the club. When he takes his seat, Kandomere catches your eye and glances pointedly at the floor beside the chair. You clench your jaw in suppressed anger and humiliation but force yourself to bend your knees and settle on the floor next to him. You try to keep track of what is being discussed over your head but at a certain point it becomes easier to bear the degradation by simply letting your thoughts drift. At one point Kandomere’s hand reaches down to your shoulder and gently squeezes. You hate yourself for leaning into his touch and savoring the comfort. 

“Care to test the product?” the dealer asks and you feel Kandomere’s leg stiffen. When did you start leaning into it? 

“No, I never partake myself,” Kandomere answers breezily. 

Laughter. “Don’t get high on your own supply. Smart. Why don’t you let your little pet try? You have to see what it does to them. They absolutely melt.”

Suddenly the dealer is bending down to look you in the eyes, he’s brandishing a small tray holding a pile of glittery powder. Kandomere grabs your shoulder and pushes you back.

“I don’t--She hasn’t--” you’ve never heard him at a loss for words before. 

The dealer’s eyes harden and his voice holds suspicion, “What are you playing at?”

You’re looking up at both of them, your eyes flicking back and forth. Fuck, you’re about to get made. 

Kandomere’s face suddenly smooths into the marble mask you’ve seen so many times. He’s cool and collected once more. He looks down at you and his tone is offhanded but the words are a command, “Go ahead. Try it.”

You’re about to refuse and blow this whole operation when you feel the dealer’s hand grab you by the back of the neck. He pulls you closer to him and dips the fingers of his free hand into the glittery powder.

“Come here little pet. You’ll love this,” he says. He shoves his long fingers into your mouth, massaging the powder into your gums before releasing you with a shove that sends you toppling into Kandomere’s legs. “Take her in the back. They go feral on this stuff. She’ll be jumping your bones in a second.”

You feel like you’re underwater. The sights and sounds of the club feel distant to you. Kandomere is grabbing you by the arms, lifting you up and away from the table with the bad people. Kandomere is touching you. You can feel his bright, silver-blue elf beauty bleeding out of his skin and wrapping you up in a blanket. 

“Kandomere…” you breathe, leaning your body against his and whispering into the shell of his perfect, pointed ear, “You’re very pretty. If you kiss me I’ll turn into a princess for you…”

“Shhh. You’re going to be alright, Y/N,” your partner shushes you, holding you tighter against his chest as he maneuvers you through the throng of hostile elven eyes. His voice still sounds far away but you can tell it’s shaking a little, like he’s scared. How funny…

---

“I could have died, Kandomere,” you whisper, turning your head to stare out the window at the city lights flashing past. You don’t want him to see your tears. He’d taken you into the club’s bathroom, frantically flushing your mouth out with water. All the while you were trying to wrap yourself around him. You kept calling him pretty. Fuck, you’re never going to live that down. 

“I’m so sorry about that, Y/N. I never thought they’d force that on us. But--but you’re fine now and now we have these monsters. Thanks to you…” the words sound hollow and placating. 

You turn to stare at him with glassy, accusing eyes, “I just think I deserved to be told up front what I was walking into. I could have prepared…”

Kandomere is shaking his head and he’s actually smiling slightly, “You never would have agreed to it if I told you the kind of club it was.”

Rage takes over again and you punch your clenched fist into the center console, startling the unflappable elf. 

“You’re damn right, Kandomere! Do you even realize how humiliating it was to have all of those people think that I’m some pathetic, human sex slave?...And to have you treat me that way…” you trail off, waiting for a reply that doesn’t come. Kandomere’s elegant hands flex on the steering wheel, the muscle in his jaw ticks, but he keeps his silence. Finally you turn away with an angry growl, “Forget it. You’re a fucking asshole.”

When he pulls up outside your apartment your hand is already on the door handle, getting ready to make a hasty exit without another word. You’re too afraid you’ll lose control and either break down in sobs or haul off and punch his smug face. 

Before you can flee Kandomere stops you with a gentle hand on your arm, “Wait, please.”

Kandomere is never anything but perfectly controlled. But now his words sound like a plea from his soul. You turn to him with wide eyes.

“I’m so sorry, Y/N. I was wrong. I should have been up front with you about what tonight was. I just...I wanted to get these guys so bad. But I put you in danger and that’s--that’s unforgivable,” his voice is rough, broken. He won’t even meet your eyes. His hand still lingers on your arm and his fingers are stroking absentmindedly into your flesh. It’s probably the remaining drug still in your system, but his touch sends electric pulses through your nervous system.

You swallow your tears and pull the gorget from your neck, fingering the gleaming metal.

“It’s just...I know what you think about humans,” you murmur, eyes downcast. You trace your finger over the elven script on the gorget. “Elves above all...Above all elves? I just thought...I thought it was different with you and me.”

Kandomere lets out a choked sound from the back of his throat and his grip on your arm tightens. When you look up you’re astounded to see tears glistening in his hypnotic eyes. 

“It is different with you, Y/N. You’re...you’re special to me,” his words are halting, but you can feel the truth of them through his touch. “When he forced that shit in your mouth? When I thought you might--might die, I--”

Suddenly he’s leaning forward across the console, faster than you can track with your mortal vision. His face is inches away, his lips hovering so close to yours. He stares into your eyes intensely, you’re falling into the silvery pool of his irises. Can this be real? You knew he tolerated you. You hoped that he respected you. Can he really feel...more?

“I don’t deserve to kiss you, Y/N,” he whispers, his breath ghosting across your lips. “But I’m going to.”

His kiss is like magic. His lips slide against yours in perfect harmony, like he can read your body’s intentions and match them. He’s soft and hard, fierce and gentle, hot and cool at all once. He cups your face in his hands and you feel a thrill that this immortal being who can kill a man with his bare hands is using them to stroke your cheeks so gently. He pulls away too soon and you try to trail after him with your lips. 

His pupils are dilated and his breath is quick, matching your own. He looks down at you and his face is softer than you’ve ever seen it. His perfect brows knit together and his voice pitched low as he asks, “Am I forgiven, then?”

Has he known all this time? That you were hopelessly falling in love with him? The thought should be mortifying but your body is still ringing with the force of his kiss. Kandomere knows what he’s doing. How can he question that you’d stay angry after a kiss like that? He’s still an asshole. But…

“Yes,” you whisper, grabbing his tie and tugging him back toward your lips. “Forgiven.”

[hellotvshowtrash]

First if all, congrats on 900! You are so deserving of that and more! 🎉🎊😊

Secondly, I know that (for me at least) it's an hour and a half into the 13th and so the celebration may already be over but I'm finally getting the chance to sit down and vent about this so hopefully I'm still in the nick of time.

Lately I've just been really down for a variety of reasons. But one of the big ones is that I just feel so alone. I'm 24 years old, I'll be 25 in a little over 2 months, and I've only ever been in one romantic relationship that I really don't even count as a real relationship. I just crave that intimacy but I feel like I'm never going to have it. Like I'm destined to be alone forever. This is something I've felt on and off since I was 16 but recently it's the strongest I've ever felt this way. I know that I'm young and have a lot of life ahead of my but it's just so disheartening when I see my friends getting engaged or married or starting families. Of course I'm beyond happy for them because they deserve lifetimes of happiness. I just want that too and it feels like I'm never going to have it.

Anyway, that was my vent. I'm really grateful that you included this section in your event because I have kept this bottled for a while because I didn't know who I could talk to about it. It feels good to tell someone. Even if it is on anon. 💖

I’m so glad you could confide in me!! I’m always here to listen, off anon or on.

If I may, dearest, offer some advice? If not, ignore me and know that I’m always here and very proud of you for speaking up!

I know you’ve probably heard this thousands of times but, I’m gonna say it again. Use this time to focus on you and your career or hobbies or starting something new. Love finds you in the most unexpected of places, times, circumstances. There’s nothing wrong with not being in a relationship.

Also, this pandemic isolated so many people. Just know that you’re not alone, and no matter what, you’re loved! So loved and cared for, and when that person comes along, their love will be worth waiting for. It will come, and it will be amazing. You deserve all the love in the world and one day that will happen for you. I’m so sorry it’s taken this long but it’ll be worth it when it comes.

[dontcare77ghj]

Only Human

Sam x reader x Steve x Bucky

The Avengers had seen a lot of weird things. Aliens, Tony committing to a monogamous relationship, Gods and a lot more, but the weirdest thing they’d seen yet was Sam dating you, Bucky and Steve. 

It wasn’t weird because of how many were in the relationship it was because of the species difference between the three of you. In your relationship, Sam was the only human. He liked to say he was the only normal one but he really was the only human in your relationship. 

To be fair, Steve and Bucky had once been human but you had never been human. You were born several centuries ago and had been born a phoenix. When you were 564 you met Steve and Bucky. They had been turned into vampires about six centuries ago and the three of you were excited to meet more immortals.

For a hundred years the three of you travelled and lived together. The three of you knew everything about each other and couldn’t imagine being happier than you were with each other. 

That was until you met Howard Stark. He was the first person, other than each other, you’d admitted your true nature’s to. The four of you became close friends and stayed that way even after he met his wife and eventually had a son. You and the boys became the godparents to the young Stark and looked out for him, especially when Hydra murdered his parents. 

It was a few years after Tony became Iron Man and the four of joined Fury’s Super-Secret Boy Band, when you met your fourth. Sam Wilson had joined a couple years after the New York incident and a few months after meeting the four of you went on your first date. 

Two years later the four of you were still happily together. The only problem between the four of you was when it was made clear three of you weren’t human and freaked the one human out.

It had been a long week. You, Sam and Tony had all been forced into a weeklong mission and had only been allowed one call home three days in. It had been a grueling week and the three of you couldn’t wait to get back home. 

“You know what I’m in the need of right now?” Sam asked as the three of you sat on the jet. 

“A shower.” Tony said, not looking up from his tablet. Reaching over you smacked Tony on the arm. “Ow.” He complained, looking up and rubbing his arm. 

“Don’t be rude.” You said, raising an eyebrow at him as if daring him to say anything else. 

“Thank you, angel.” Sam said, leaning over and kissing you. “What I was going to say before Tony was so rude, was I could for a stiff drink."

“See that,” Tony started, snapping his fingers. “Is why you’re my favorite of your little foursome.” He added with a smirk. 

“Rude. I helped raise you Stark.” You grumbled, narrowing your eyes at him. 

“That’s because you’re ancient.” Tony said, earning himself another whack from you. “What’s with all this violence?”

“You’re a rude bastard.” Sam said simply as you moved over to Sam and sat on his lap. “Don’t you know you’re never supposed to bring up a ladies age? Besides, my girl is eternally gorgeous.” He added, resting his head in the crook of your neck. 

“You’re so sweet, Sammie. Tony maybe you should listen to Sam more, you might learn a thing or two on how to treat a lady.” You said, kissing Sam’s cheek. Tony opened his mouth to respond but didn’t get the chance as the automated voice announced you had arrived back at base. 

“Oh thank Thor.” You groaned, standing so Sam could. “I want to sleep for a century.” You said as Sam wrapped an arm around your waist. 

“Wait, can you actually do that?” Sam asked, raising an eyebrow at you. “Have you ever actually slept for a century?”

“No, I’ve never slept for a century, honey.” You said with a gentle smile. “Bucky slept for six months after his arm but the best I’ve done is a week."

“Everyone can black out for a week.” Tony said, coming up behind the two of you. “It’s not that hard.” You and Sam rolled your eyes at the man as you entered the elevator and made your way up to your floor. 

“Steve? Buck? Guess who’s back.” Sam said as you entered the floor. “Anybody home?” He asked, and dropping his bag by the door as you stripped of your boots. 

“We’re here.” Steve said, walking towards you two with a large grin. “Welcome home.” He greeted, pulling Sam into a hug, kissing him, and then repeating the actions with you. 

“It’s good to be home.” You murmured, relaxing in his grip. “Is that blood on your lips?” You asked after he kissed you. 

“A little.” He said, flushing slightly. “Me and Buck got hungry.” He told you both as he led the pair of you into the kitchen. 

“Are you telling me I just tasted blood?” Sam questioned, looking slightly disgusted. “I need to brush my teeth.” He groaned. 

“Why do you need to brush your teeth?” Bucky asked, turning away from the sink. Sam turned pale at the sight of your boyfriend and you scrunched your nose at him. 

“You’re nearly a thousand years old, Buck, how are you still as messy as a newborn?” You questioned, raising an eyebrow at the brunette. 

Bucky turned sheepish as you mentioned his feeding habits. It was true that Bucky was a messy feeder, he always had been, and it was true that his current appearance supported your statement. Blood drenched the lower half of Bucky’s face and the top of his shirt, his fingers also covered in the red substance. 

“Blood’s a messy substance.” He said, wiping his face with his sleeve. “Still tastes good.”

“Guys what’s rule about blood?” Sam groaned, turning his face away from Bucky. “No blood around the humans.” He said without waiting for an answer. 

“Sorry, Sam. I forgot how squeamish you are.” Bucky chuckled, turning away from him. 

“I’m not squeamish, it’s just you don’t normally see people covered in blood with fangs protruding from their mouths.” Sam said as you moved over to Bucky and kissed him. 

“This is nothing. We’ve fucked with the two of them covered in blood and me in ash.” You told the bird. “Now, Buck why don’t you go clean up and we’ll make some food?”

“Sounds good.” Bucky said, kissing you before moving to the bathroom. Sam sat at the island and turned to face the two of you. 

“You do know I’m not kissing either of you until you brush your teeth, right?”

You were a very forgetful person. Had been for 900 years. Steve and Bucky used to joke it was as if you burnt a tiny bit of your brain away when you died but they’d stopped when they saw how worried the thought made you. 

You forgot simple things like the day, the month, important events and other small things that many others could forget. But sometimes, sometimes you forgot very important things like burning days. 

Sometimes when you were stressed or were experiencing a lot of inner turmoil your shift would be late. When your shift was late you barely ever noticed. If you couldn’t remember the date, why would you notice your shift was late?

It had been a regular day when it happened. All your boys were busy and doing things out of the tower and you had woken up late that day. You were in the shower when it began. 

The pain was immense and it came on faster than you could comprehend. One minute you’re washing your hair the next your entire body was alight and you fell to the tiled floor, dead. 

Non-Reader POV

Steve and Sam had left early to go for a run. They'd spent hours running their regular course and it was only the 7th lap, well Sam's 7th anyway, they'd decided to head back to the tower. 

"I see I've finished just in time." Bucky said as he met the two in the elevator. He embraced the two in a way of greeting and then leaned against the wall. "Let me guess laps?" 

"Yeah. Remind me why I agree to run with a vampire?" Sam puffed, sitting on the floor.

"Because you love me." Steve said teasing the human man. "What have you been doing all morning?" Steve asked Bucky. 

"Training with Nat. I swear she might as well be a vampire, the woman wakes up at the crack of dawn." Bucky told the two. 

"I wonder if she'd think of that as a compliment or not." Sam mused as the elevator door opened. 

"Y/N's awake." Steve announced as they entered their floor. "The shower's running." He added. 

"I could go for a shower." Sam said with a grin and walked in the direction of the bathroom. Steve and Bucky shared a smirk and followed their boyfriend in the direction of their girlfriend. 

The door to the bathroom was open, steam trickling into the bedroom, and Sam led the three of them into the room. 

"Doll. We're back." Steve announced as they entered the tiled room. Sam pulled back the curtain and was momentarily confused to not see his girlfriend standing in front of him. 

It was only when Bucky let out a startled noise that Sam looked down and saw his girlfriend. Blood stained the floor, though he could see no wound, ash and charged skin clung to her. 

"Shit." Bucky exclaimed, reaching around Sam to turn the shower off. Kicking himself into action, Sam leaned down and grabbed Y/N's still from off the floor. 

Steve grabbed a towel and began to clean off the burnt skin and charred remainders. 

"Fuck! Is she dead? Where's the blood coming from?" Sam asked, trying to find a wound. 

"Sammie, breath." Bucky said sternly. "This happens every month. The bloods probably from a wound that happened when she fell that's already healed. You need to calm down, you know she dies every month."

"Yeah at the start of the month not near the end." Sam says before beginning to control his breathing. "I'm good. I'm cool." He said after a couple seconds. 

"Sam's right." Steve said, cleaning the woman's face of ash. "Y/N always burns at the start of the month." 

"Not always." Bucky disagreed. "When she's stressed it gets delayed." He reminded the blonde. Steve nodded at his words and then stood. 

"Alright then, let's bring her to the bedroom, get her dressed and wait for her to wake up." He said. Sam scooped the unconscious woman up and placed her on the bed. Bucky dressed Y/N in a pair of his boxers and one of Steve's shirts before laying down in bed with her. 

When Y/N awoke it was to Sam and Bucky arguing over something or other. When the three men noticed she was awake Sam immediately began lecturing her, to her amusement as well as Steve and Bucky's. 

"You three are going to make my hair grey." Sam complained, flopping on the bed. 

Reader POV

Ever since Tony was young, he'd found it amusing that the big, tough, vampire Steve could be weakened by a pencil. 

Of course he knew a stake would do a better job but when he was younger, all he had were pencils at his disposal and he thoroughly enjoyed stabbing lightly into Steve. 

The first time he'd ever done it, you and Bucky panicked until you realized it was none lethal and simply a suing to watch Steve complain about a child and his pencils. 

As you all aged, Tony could get his hands on real stakes but simply found more amusing to stick a pencil into Steve's hand. Over time you and Bucky didn't get panicked ta the sight and simply smiled at your partner and godson. 

When Sam entered your relationship, well he hadn't ever seen it before and was rightfully terrified at the sight. If it were any other person freaking out as he had, the three of you would've laughed your assets off, but it was Sam. 

Your Sam, who thought one of his partners was going to die. The three of you had to sit him down and thoroughly explain that it was just something Tony did when he was bored and that it wouldn't kill Steve. 

Over time, he'd calmed down at the sight but still panicked slightly when he saw it. 

The entirety of the team was sitting in the main common room. No one was really doing anything, mainly just doing trivial things to pass the time and no one was really paying attention to each other. Until, 

"Ow, Tony will you quit it?" Steve demanded. You lifted your head from Bucky's shoulder and gasped at sight of seven pencils stuck in Steve's arm. 

"Tony what the fuck?" You groaned, rolling your eyes at the Stark. 

"Why do you have seven pencils on you?" Bucky asked as if it were the most important thing in this scenario. 

"Jesus Christ, Tony. Get those out of him before it actually kills him." Sam gasped, eyes growing wide at the sight. 

"He's not dying." Tony said with a pout. "Besides I'm bored." 

"Stick a knife in a dummy then." Clint suggested, looking at Steve and Tony weirdly. 

"Or one in Steve. Don't want to accidentally kill the man." Natasha added with a small smile. 

"Anyway," Sam said, giving Natasha a look. "Take them out of his arm now." Sam said firmly, narrowing his at Tony. 

"Yes Sam." Tony muttered, pouting as he pulled pencils out of Steve's arm. "You're meaner than these three sometimes." 

"That's because I am sensible unlike these three. I swear you're going to give me a heart attack one day." Sam said, giving the three of you a look. 

You and Bucky shared a smirk as you both leaned over to kiss his cheeks. 

"You love us, Sammie." You said as Sam's cheeks darkened. 

"Yeah. Yeah I do." He admitted, throwing his arms around yours and Bucky's shoulders. Steve eventually moved closer and joined hands with Sam. 

Though Sam was the only human in your little quad, and the three of you were going to turn his hair grey or give him a heart attack, the four of you were happy together. It didn't matter the species difference.

Taglist

@piper-koko-barnes-rogers @skeletoresinthebasement @hopingforbarnes @agent-barnes40 @rvgrsbrns @smilexcaptainx

Show your support. Give it a like. Leave a comment. Share with your friends and reblog. Inbox/Message me any comments, ideas, pairings, if you would like to be added to a tag list or whatever you like.

Coming soon:

Natasha x reader x Sam x Steve x Bucky

Steve x reader x Thor

Pepper x reader x Tony

Natasha x reader x Peggy x Wanda

Bruce x reader x Thor

Bucky x reader x Steve x Peggy

Wanda x reader x Natasha

[canaryrecords]

Five years after having first presented a substantial group of recordings by Kemany Minas from February 1917, the Canary album I made was heavily revised twice due to obsessive research by Harry Kezelian and Harout Arakelian. Recently a group of early Minas performances from Dec. 1916 arrived as part of the legacy of Christine Gabaly, and I revised the album yet again (now comprising his nearly-complete discography, lacking only the two takes of his performances of the song "Memo"), this time giving the notes entirely to Harry Kezelian, whose amazing work deserves a feature in the LA Times, New Yorker, NY Times, Washington Post, Philadelphia Inquirer, NPR or some similar outlet. It is an absolute masterpiece of what is commonly called "rediscovery" of early 20th century music by a performer who I said for years we'd never know about. I was wrong. I'm happy to share it with you: ====== Sixteen discs made in eleven months have survived for more than a century with the name Kemany Minas Effendi on their labels. Lacking a surname - “kemany” and “effendi” are titles, making him “violinist Mr. Minas” - this great artist remained an enigma for many years. The identity of Minas has been ascertained from scraps of information in out-of-print Armenian books and newspapers, as well as oral history from Udi Richard Hagopian of California. Minas Chaghatzbanian arrived at Ellis Island at the age of 26 on July 13, 1913. Destined for Providence, Rhode Island, he had left behind his his wife Varter in Malatia, Turkey. Arshag Alboyadjian’s “History of the Armenians in Malatia” (published 1961 in Beirut) includes the first mention of Minas as a performer, only two months after arriving: “The one united [Malatia club] picnic of Attleboro and Franklin [Massachusetts] was a singular and unforgettable affair for its type. In 1913 at the well-known farm belonging to the Urfatsis [Armenians from Urfa], that picnic took place, where more than 200 Malatia natives were present, from surrounding towns. The lavishness of the specialty dishes and drinks of Malatia was beyond measure. The famous and prematurely-deceased violinist Minas Chaghatzbanian was there. The merry-making had neither measure nor bound. [Visiting geologist] Professor Mugerdich Vorperian [of Malatia] was also there, who in that period had come to America for the purpose of taking certain classes. Professor Vorperian spoke, issuing a call to the Armenian community, to not remain in foreign lands, but return to the Homeland. The poor Professor himself returned and became a victim of the wolves and hyenas. Doctor Garabed Yazmajian also spoke at that picnic, and issued a call to those present, that they should give vigor to the patriotic purposes adopted by the Society. On the occasion of that picnic, a sum of nearly 900 dollars was collected, which was an amazing thing in those days, and could only have taken place thanks to the sacrifices of the natives of Malatia.” By 1914 Minas was living in the Back Bay section of Boston and working at Bedros Boyajian’s Arevelyan Surjaran (Oriental Coffeehouse) in Boston first at 32 Tyler and then at 84-A Harrison Ave. A June 24, 1914 ad in the Armenian-language newspaper Azk (the Nation) read: “We are informing the Armenian community of Boston and the vicinity that we have reopened our Armenian Coffeehouse, where food will also be served at certain times of the day. First-rate kebabs and choice dishes. The famous violinist Mr. Minas Chaghatzbanian will play choice Oriental pieces in the coffeehouse. Call the Chaghatzbanian band for weddings, picnics, and other celebrations. - Bedros Boyajian, proprietor.” December 6, 1916, Kemany Minas made his first recordings for the Victor Company at the age of 29 or 30, both as a vocalist and a violin-playing accompanist to Diyarbekir-born singer Karekin Proodian along with two shadowy figures named Morene (kanun) and Hagop (oud). We guess that “Morene” is a misspelling of Zaven Yapchaian, a native of Kharpert, Turkey who made several solo recordings in the early 1940s. It is not out of the question that the oudist Hagop was James (Puzant) Nazaretian, known as Jimmy Nazareth, a native of Adana, Turkey, although according to his student Emmanuel Baghdayan, he didn’t start playing the oud until he was done with his US Navy service toward the end of 1919. Of the 12 sides recorded that day, Minas was soloist on six. On those six sides, he performed one folk song “Memo” and five gazels in makams Oushak, Hijaz, Huseyni, Sabah, and Rast. By the time of those recordings, the Armenian genocide had been ongoing for over a year. Minas’s wife Varter may have already been killed. If Minas hadn’t read reports the fate of the Armenians of Malatia, the statement in Viscount Bryce’s Blue Book report to the British Parliament in October 1916, widely reprinted in the newspapers, was clear: “The same barbarities have been committed everywhere, and by this time travelers find nothing but thousands of Armenian corpses all along the roads in these provinces. A Moslem traveler, on his way from Malatia to Sivas, a nine hours journey, passed nothing but corpses of men and women. All the male Armenians of Malatia had been taken there and massacred; the women and children have all been converted to Islam.” The best Minas could have hoped for his wife was forced conversion or abduction. Armenians in America were tormented. They hoped for the best, but their worst fears turned out most often to be true. Their loved ones and homes were gone. As Minas sang (in Turkish) in the 1916 piece “Chifte Telly Gazel,” “karibim, vatanim yok, vatanim yok” (I’m an exile, I have no homeland, no homeland). More common in the 19th and early 20th century than it is today, the gazel form is essentially a vocal taksim (structured improvisation), in which the singer employs a piece of poetry as a vehicle for vocal improvisation within a given mode, as in Arabic mawwals and Greek amanades. Successful performances demonstrate both emotional power and skill in delineating the framework of the mode. As a semi-professional Armenian musician from the backwaters of Eastern Anatolia, Minas was a deeply impressive vocalist. He profoundly understood the modes and delivered the verses he selected (often relating to exile) with emotional verve. Although clearly never classically trained, he likely sang in the Armenian church as a boy, when the Eastern modes were still being used to sing the liturgical services everywhere in Anatolia, each Ottoman maqam having an equivalent in the the Armenian liturgical modes. Minas recorded again in November 1917 for Columbia Records in joint sessions with singer Garabet Merjanian (a native of Kayseri). Richard Hagopian, keeper of the Armenian-American community’s musical oral history, informs us that the brilliant violinist Harry Hasekian (a native of Marash) performed on “most of” the Kemany Minas sides, and certainly about nine sides appear to have Hasekian accompanying Minas. Among the other Minas’s other accompanists at the sessions were Thomas Takis, a Greek clarinet player (apparently a native of Smyrna) and Looder Hampartzoumian (also known as Luther Artinian), an Armenian native of Chomakhlou who played the saz, each of whom accompanied Minas on gazels. Among the performances he recorded at those sessions was a re-recording of “Memo” (not issued until years later as the flip side of a Turkish-language disc by the Greek singer Marika Papagika), one sharki, “Seni Gordukje Titriyor Yuregim” (Upon Seeing You My Heart Trembles), an Istanbul classic with music by Roma violinist Bulbuli Salih and lyrics by Armenian singer Hanende Hadji Garabet, and seven kef songs - party-time dance numbers, delivered with a palpable smile. On “Sheker Oghlan” (I’m In Love With You, Sweet Boy), a popular song known throughout Anatolia, Minas ventures into the realm of the dirty joke, describing the intimacy between a boy and a girl for whom he burns. Minas was in great spirits (and probably full of liquid spirits) during the recordings. We can imagine it was these songs or ones like that that he played at the at the Massachusetts Malatia club picnic in 1913. Richard Hagopian has said Minas was a single man, a “bekyar martig” (bachelor) in Armenian. These lone working-class immigrants were known for their life of partying, gambling, hanging out at coffeehouses and restaurants, becoming friendly with belly dancers, and so on. Minas wasn’t born to suffer. He was born a ham. Armenians have often dealt with their sorrow through comedy. It is part of the national psyche. His Columbia discs all sold well, but his most enduring hit was not a party song, It was his response to the ongoing genocide in the form of a song dating back at least to the 1850s, “Eghin Havasi.” Originally the lament of an Armenian woman whose husband had gone abroad as a migrant worker and never returned, sung in both Turkish and Armenian, it originated in the town of Egin (Agn in Armenian) in the province of Kharpert. It was Minas’s masterpiece and among the best-selling “ethnic” recordings in the U.S. in the 1910s-20s until Columbia deleted their Armenian and Turkish catalog, taking on new meaning for Armenians in America. Its reimagining was derived from the 1894-1896 Armenian massacres ordered by Sultan Abdul Hamid when the Bank Ottoman in Constantinople was seized by a group of Armenian revolutionaries under the leadership of “Papken Suni” (his nom de guerre), a native of Agn. In reprisal against the freedom-fighter’s native town, orders were given “to take the necessary action,” upon which the military engaged in a 48-hour massacre, in which upwards of 2,000 Armenians were killed, 980 of the 1,150 houses were torched, and “all were pillaged.” Armenians assembled in their church and “offered up special prayer owing to the great fear prevalent in their town,” but their religious plenipotentiary was “compelled by the authorities, under pain of death, to telegraph to the Patriarch that the Armenians were responsible for the outbreak there.” (Quotation from Vahakn Dadrian, Warrant For Genocide). In the wake of the 1896 massacre of Agn, the lyrics were re-written: “Egin de veran olmush, bulbul eotmuyor” (Egin is in ruins, the nightingale doesn’t sing). Minas Chaghatzbanian was about 10 years old at the time and living in a city about 87 miles to the south. His performances includes those lyrics blended with the earlier emigration narrative: “benim yarim cevresine sarsinlar” (let them wrap me in my beloved’s shroud). In an essay called “Gardens of Our City” written decades later by Hagop Asadourian (born in Chmaklou in 1903), a genocide survivor, rug merchant, writer, and amateur singer, described an Armenian picnic in Van Cortlandt Park in the Bronx: “Gradually, the smoke of barbecued lamb would saturate the atmosphere and mix with the other smoke of burning memories! At that point, joining this mixture would be the sonorous voice of [tenor Armenag] Shah-Mouradian, singing ‘Hayasdan,’ pouring out of the throat of a ‘morning glory’ phonograph! You would then hear the ‘Groong’ (Crane) of Zabel Aram [Panosian], and especially a Turkish-language andouni (emigrant song) called ‘Egin Havasee,’ springing forth with sad fluctuations from the depths of kemanchist Minas’ soul:

Yar, seven years have passed since you left All the trees you planted have given fruit Those who went with you have returned home Come back, my love, come quick, don’t be a stranger Whoever “invented” exile, may he never see heaven…

Minas, a talented and wounded andouni (homeless one) himself, having just fallen out of his nest, how sadly would he mix his voice to the dolorous strings of his own violin! What a soulful rendition of that heartrending andouny. A song that was written, one felt, for this very group, to express this very condition of theirs. A song, mixed now with forgotten, distant sounds, echoing through the trees and bushes of Van Cortlandt with surges of grief. Only to bounce back in broken waves and then submerge into the hearts of …. Chomakhlou and Evereg, Kayseri and Sepastia, Gurin and Garin!” -Hagop Asadourian, “Gardens of Our City” Despite Asadourian’s professed antipathy toward Turkish music, he managed to quote from memory not only the lyrics that Minas actually recorded but another verse from the same folk song with the same theme. Though the Armenians of Malatia were Armenian-speaking, every word sung or by Minas on his recordings is in Turkish, with the exception of the interjection “mayrig!” (mother!) in the first verse of “Eghin Havasi.” Minas’s end came quick. Richard Hagopian has said that Kemany Minas was sick and came to Fresno, California for the climate. Alboyadjian’s book on Malatia lists Minas Chaghatzbanian among compatriots who died in Fresno. The March 22, 1918 issue of the Fresno-based Armenian-language newspaper Asbarez reported: “On March 14, in the Colfax Hospital, Minas Chaghatzbanian, 33, passed away from an illness of the lungs. The funeral took place out of Holy Trinity Church with Very Rev. Fr. Vartan officiating, and the body was placed in Ararat Cemetery.” Colfax death records have a “Minas Chagarchban” having died in Placer County at the age of 33 on March 14, 1918 four months after Kemany Minas recorded for Columbia. 1920s advertisements for Kemany Minas discs used the epithet “vaghamerig” (Armenian for “one who died too young”) or the Turkish, “merhum” (“the departed”). In 1947, S.M. Dzotsigian, a native of Agn and resident of San Francisco, in the section on Malatia in his encyclopedic work “Arevmdahye Ashkharh” (Western Armenian World) states: “The people of Malatia say that Violinist and Troubadour Minas is also from their city, although others give testimony as to his being from elsewhere. The popular dance-songs of this Troubadour Minas were recorded on phonograph discs.” Minas’s Columbia discs remained in print for more than a decade after they were recorded and sold as well as any Turkish-language recordings did in the U.S. in the 1920s. Their influence was strongly felt on a generation of players who followed, particularly the Philadelphia kef groups including the Vosbikian and Arziv bands. This is all we know.

[phroyd]

HOUSTON — Over the past week, Dr. Aric Bakshy, an emergency physician at Houston Methodist, had to decide which coronavirus patients he should admit to the increasingly busy hospital and which he could safely send home.

To discuss questions like these, he has turned to doctors at hospitals where he trained in New York City that were overwhelmed by the coronavirus this spring. Now their situations are reversed.

Thumbing through a dog-eared notebook during a recent shift, Dr. Bakshy counted about a dozen people he had treated for coronavirus symptoms. His colleagues in Houston had attended to many more. Meanwhile, friends at Elmhurst Hospital in Queens told him that their emergency department was seeing only one or two virus patients a day.

As Houston’s hospitals face the worst outbreak of the virus in Texas, now one of the nation’s hot zones, Dr. Bakshy and others are experiencing some of the same challenges that their New York counterparts did just a few months ago and are trying to adapt some lessons from that crisis.

Like New York City in March, the Houston hospitals are experiencing a steep rise in caseloads that is filling their beds, stretching their staffing, creating a backlog in testing and limiting the availability of other medical services. Attempts to buy more supplies — including certain protective gear, vital-sign monitors and testing components — are frustrated by weeks of delays, according to hospital leaders.

Methodist is swiftly expanding capacity and hiring more staff, including local nurses who had left their jobs to work in New York when the city’s hospitals were pummeled. “A bed’s a bed until you have a staff,” said Avery Taylor, the nurse manager of a coronavirus unit created just outside Houston in March.

But with the virus raging across the region, medical workers are falling ill. Dr. Bakshy was one of the first at Methodist to have Covid-19, getting it in early March. As of this past week, the number of nurses being hired to help open new units would only replace those out sick.

Methodist, a top-ranked system of eight hospitals, had nearly 400 coronavirus inpatients last Sunday. Nearly a week later — even as physicians tried to be conservative in admitting patients and discharged others as soon as they safely could — the figure was 575. The flagship hospital added 130 inpatient beds in recent days and rapidly filled them. Now, administrators estimate that the number of Covid-19 patients across the system could reach 800 or 900 in coming weeks, and are planning to accommodate up to 1,000.

Other Houston hospitals are seeing similar streams of patients. Inundated public hospitals are sending some patients to private institutions like Methodist while reportedly transferring others to Galveston, 50 miles away.

“What’s been disheartening over the past week or two has been that it feels like we’re back at square one,” Dr. Mir M. Alikhan, a pulmonary and critical care specialist, said to his medical team before rounds. “It’s really a terrible kind of sinking feeling. But we’re not truly back at square one, right? Because we have the last three months of expertise that we’ve developed.”

Houston’s hospitals have some advantages compared with New York’s in the spring. Doctors know more now about how to manage the sickest patients and are more often able to avoid breathing tubes, ventilators and critical care. But one treatment shown to shorten hospital stays, the antiviral drug remdesivir, is being allocated by the state, and hospitals here have repeatedly run out of it.

Methodist’s leaders, who were planning for a surge and had been dealing with a stream of coronavirus patients since March, pointed to the most important difference between Houston now and New York then: the patient mix. The majority of new patients here are younger and healthier and are not as severely ill as many were in New York City, where officials report that over 22,000 are likely to have died from the disease.

But so far, the death toll has not climbed much in Texas and other parts of the South and West seeing a surge.

“We are having to pioneer the way of trying to understand a different curve with some very good characteristics versus the last curve,” said Dr. Marc Boom, Methodist’s president and chief executive.

But he cautioned, “What I’m watching really closely is whether we see a shift back in age — because if the young really get this way out there and then start infecting all of the older, then we may look more like the last wave.”

Dr. Sylvie de Souza, head of the emergency department at Brooklyn Hospital Center, which on Friday reported no new coronavirus admissions and no current inpatient cases, said that she was receiving distressing text messages from doctors elsewhere in the country asking for advice. “It’s disappointing,” she said. “It sort of brings me back to the end of March, and it’s like being there all over again.”

One of the most worrisome trends, hospital administrators said, is the increased politicization of public health measures against the virus. The hospitals in Houston are operating in a very different environment now compared with during New York’s peak in the spring, when federal, state and local leaders agreed to a national pause.

Here in Texas, political leaders have been at odds with one another, and residents sharply disagree about the danger the virus poses and what precautions are necessary. At some Houston hospitals, visitors and patients have refused to wear masks, creating conflicts with security guards at entrances.

As the Fourth of July holiday approached, Methodist spent hundreds of thousands of dollars on a public information campaign — including full-page ads wrapped around a local newspaper, social media efforts and billboards. “Stay Safe and Stay Home This July 4th,” the signs say. Methodist also sent a text message to about 10,000 patients providing safety tips. In response, the hospital system received some angry phone calls and texts. “How about you stay at home and quit telling me what to do,” was how one hospital official described them.

The economy in Texas remains open, with only bars shuttered, but Gov. Greg Abbott on Thursday issued an order requiring Texans to wear face coverings in public after long opposing such a mandate.

“There is a glimmer of some optimism,” Dr. Boom told the health system’s physicians this past week, reporting that county testing figures showed some signs of improvement.

Many hospitals in New York during the earlier crisis essentially became all-Covid units and endured billions of dollars in losses.

But Methodist and some other private Houston institutions are trying to operate differently now after taking a financial beating from shutting down elective surgeries and procedures this spring.

With safety protocols and expansion plans in place, they are trying to maintain as many services as possible for as long as possible while contending with the flood of coronavirus cases. “No one’s ever done that before,” Dr. Boom said. “We were seeing all the harm from patients delaying care.”

Doctors and nurses have combed through lists of surgical patients, choosing whom to delay. The easiest surgeries to maintain are those that do not require a hospital stay, like treatment for cataracts. Some surgeons who used to keep patients overnight after knee and hip replacements are now allowing them to leave the same day.

The most agonizing decisions concern the hospital’s robust transplant program, in part because its recipients often require a stay in intensive care. Dr. A. Osama Gaber, the program’s director, spoke with a dialysis patient whose kidney transplant had been postponed from March. “She was in tears,” he said. “She almost wanted me to swear to her we’re not going to put her off again.” For now the surgeons plan to continue cautiously.

A key strategy to maintain services is increasing what hospital officials call throughput — discharging patients as quickly as is safely possible. Yet it is not always clear who is ready to leave. Alexander Nelson-Fryar, a 25-year-old treated for coronavirus pneumonia at Methodist, was discharged from the hospital this past week. Hours after he left, he said, he began laboring to breathe and an ambulance sped him back to Methodist. By the end of the week, he was in intensive care receiving a high dose of pressurized oxygen.

As cases began rising in New York, some overwhelmed emergency departments sent home coronavirus patients only to see them return gravely ill or die. “We realized there was no way of predicting which direction a patient would go,” said Dr. de Souza, the emergency department director in Brooklyn. As a result, she said, she came to believe that any patient aside from those with the mildest symptoms should be admitted to the hospital or otherwise monitored.

But doctors in Houston are tightening criteria for admission. Dr. Bakshy, the Methodist emergency room doctor, who trained at Bellevue and Mount Sinai in New York, said that he was conferring with his former colleagues.

“We all have questions about who truly needs to be hospitalized versus not,” he said. “If we had unlimited resources, of course we’d bring people in just to make sure they’re OK.”

Now, he said, a patient has to have low oxygen levels or serious underlying conditions “to really justify coming into the hospital,” although exceptions can be made.

Another challenge in New York and Houston has been determining who is infected and needs to be isolated from others. Nearly 40 percent of all emergency room patients at Methodist are now testing positive; some of them lack symptoms.

Because test results are sometimes delayed by more than a day, Dr. Bakshy and his colleagues have had to make their best guesses as to whether someone should be admitted to a ward for coronavirus patients.

Hospitals in New York tended to move patients within their own systems to level loads. In Houston, the wealthier institutions have joined together to aid those least able to expand capacity.

This past week, Methodist sent a team to a nearby public hospital to accept transfer patients. Top officials from Methodist and the other flagship hospitals that make up the Texas Medical Center, normally competitors, consult regularly by phone. They have been coordinating for days with the county’s already overwhelmed safety-net system, Harris Health, taking in its patients. The private institutions have also agreed to take turns, with others in the state, accepting patients from rural hospitals.

Better Treatments

One morning this past week, Molly Tipps, a registered nurse, brought some medications to an older patient at the Methodist ward outside Houston. “I have the dexamethasone for your lungs,” she told the patient, Dee Morton. Preliminary results of a large study, released last month but not yet peer-reviewed, showed that the drug, a common steroid, saved lives among those who were critically ill with Covid-19 or required oxygen.

Ms. Morton, 79, said she was confident she would recover. “I’m going to make it to 80,” she said. A much lower proportion of patients have been dying from the virus locally and nationally than they were several months ago.

The ward where Ms. Morton is being treated is inside a long-term acute-care facility and is known as the Highly Infectious Disease Unit. Created to treat Ebola several years ago, it now serves as a safety valve for the Methodist system. It takes in coronavirus patients who are improving but for various reasons — from lacking housing to living in a nursing home that will not accommodate them — cannot go home. In Ms. Morton’s case, she was too weak, and after transferring to the unit, some signs of infection, including a fever, rebounded.

At Methodist’s flagship hospital in central Houston, Rosa V. Hernandez, 72, a patient in the intensive care unit, has pneumonia so severe that if she had fallen sick several months ago, she would probably have been put on a ventilator and made unconscious.

But doctors, based on the experiences of physicians in New York and elsewhere, are avoiding ventilators when possible and are maintaining Ms. Hernandez on a high flow of oxygen through a nasal tube. She is on the maximum setting, but can talk to the clinical team and exchange text messages with her daughter, who is also a Methodist inpatient with the coronavirus.

“I took it seriously,” Ms. Hernandez said of the virus. But she joined a small party of eight people for her granddaughter’s birthday, a decision she now described with regret. “Just a birthday cake. What’s a birthday cake without health?”

She is getting remdesivir, an antiviral that was tested in clinical trials in New York and Houston, among other cities, and a new experimental drug.

Methodist was part of two remdesivir trials. But because the research has ended, it and other hospitals now depend on allotments of the drug from the state. As virus cases increased, the supplies ran short, said Katherine Perez, an infectious-disease specialist at the hospital. “In Houston, every hospital that’s gotten the drug, everyone’s just kind of used it up,” she said.

The hospital received 1,000 vials, its largest batch ever, a little over a week ago. Within four days, all the patients who could be treated with it had been selected, and pharmacists were awaiting another shipment.

A new chance to test remdesivir in a clinical trial in combination with another drug may provide some relief. As cases rise, Methodist researchers are being flooded with offers to participate in studies, with about 10 to 12 new opportunities a week being vetted centrally. Without solid research, “your option is to do a bunch of unproven, potentially harmful, potentially futile, interventions to very sick people who are depending on you,” said Dr. H. Dirk Sostman, president of Methodist’s academic medicine institute.

Convincing the Public

Dr. Boom, the Methodist chief executive, said if he could preserve one thing from the New York experience in March, it would be how the country came together as it had in previous disasters.

When cases began rising again in Texas, hospital officials here spent close to a month trying to educate the public about the risks of contagion. “It didn’t work,” Dr. Boom said.

“How do you get the message out there when certain people just don’t hear it and then you’re dealing with quarantine fatigue and it’s summer and I’m done with school and I just believe I’m 20 and I’m invincible?” he asked. “We told everybody this is all about the sick, vulnerable population, which was the truth, but they heard the message of ‘Well, therefore I’m fine.’ And now we’re doing the re-education on that.”

But even some of Methodist’s physicians, like many Texans, take issue with measures promoted by most public health experts. “A lot of the masks that people are wearing in public don’t do very much,” said Dr. Beau Briese, director of international emergency medicine, contradicting studies that point to a substantial benefit with universal face coverings.

Dr. Briese, 41, believes the soundest approach is to keep opening businesses but have the population at highest risk, including older people, stay apart from the broader public. Some of Methodist’s patients find even those measures objectionable.

One patient on Dr. Bakshy’s emergency room shift, Genevieve McCall, 96, came to the hospital with a satchel full of nightgowns because her legs had swollen, a sign of worsening heart failure. Dr. Bakshy asked about any exposure to the coronavirus. She said her caregiver had been out since the previous day with a fever and a sore throat.

Born five years after the 1918 flu, Ms. McCall, a retired nurse, said that until the coronavirus, she told people she thought she had seen everything. “I question a lot of things,” she said of the safety restrictions. “They’ve been too tight about it. And every time that there is a little bit of a spike, then we’re restricted more.”

Ms. McCall, who tested negative for the virus, added: “This is a political year. I think that politics has a lot to do with the way this has been handled. And I think it’s been mishandled.”

She said that it was difficult to be stuck in her apartment in an independent-living complex that was prohibiting visitors, canceling many activities and delivering meals to rooms instead of serving them in the dining room. “It’s very depressing,” she said. “Until this afternoon, when my daughter walked in the door to come and pick me up and bring me here, I had not been able to see her or touch her for three months, more.”