#for that last one blargh

[tarczar]

all 4 guest illustrations from drywall: unzipped! I'd probably scan these if I wasn't so afraid to mess up the binding and if I even HAD a scanner!

fun fact: the artist credited for the first image (drywall on ice skates) is Ryann Liebl. for those who might not be as freakish as me, she was also credited as the model for this image featured in an issue to show off one of the official scud t-shirts. this glowy gorgeous neon text mess:

she's also listed under voice talents in the Sega Saturn game (presumably playing the role of Sussudio)

crazy how tight-knit this comic's connections get.

[curiosity-killed]

I’m so extremely done with dance directors for this year lmfao

[sennqu]

love that the last kingdom movie made the first king of england gay. inspiring stuff

[steampunkedparm]

i really need to get better at setting boundariessss

[writtenonreceipts]

Rowaelin Month Day Six: Misunderstanding Leading to Disaster @rowaelinscourt

Month Masterlist // Hey, Neighbor Masterlist // AO3

a/n: blargh.

Warnings: just me trying to write. ~2.6k words

Hey, Regret

As January slowly slogged on, Aelin tried her best to return to the normal swing of things.  It should have been easy considering work was picking up pace and she’d been spending more time with her friends, not to mention keeping Fleetfoot thoroughly entertained so the poor pup wouldn’t be bored out of her mind.  Yet, as always happened around this time of year, Aelin felt discontent. 

She chalked it up to seasonal depression, vowing for a vacation once winter wound down.  Perhaps not the healthiest way to manage her mental health, but it was the easiest explanation and answer.

Despite it all, there was one thing on her mind that she wasn't sure how to accommodate. And that was her growing attraction to Rowan. She wasn't sure exactly when it had begun. Maybe somewhere along the way after he'd taken her rock climbing or the incident at her parent’s party…but it had grown to something she didn’t know how to deal with herself.  And she didn't even know if the feelings were reciprocated.

It was enough to make her avoid him. She'd been on the receiving end of misplaced affection before and knew how uncomfortable it made her feel and she couldn't wouldn't let Rowan feel the same.

But she still wanted to make sure Rowan knew she appreciated him and what he'd done for her. Over the last several months it had felt like all she'd done was nag and bother and make demands on him.  All she wanted was to show him that she really was grateful for everything.

So, she did what she did best and made a batch of cookies to take down to the firehouse. He only did Search and Rescue with the occasional ranger work but the firehouse was located at the base of the mountain and served as a good base for all the emergency responders in the area.  And since it was mostly where he did his paperwork, it would be the easiest place to find him on a work day.

When she headed out to her car, a strong wind swept through the parking lot.  Another storm was brewing.  If that wind didn’t indicate it, Aelin could practically smell it in the air.  It was different from the scent of rain—not metallic and earthy, but clean and sharp.  Not everyone could sense the difference, especially if you weren’t from Terrasen.  But having spent her entire life here, not even leaving for school—Aelin knew the difference.  And it smelled like snow, a storm, a threat.

It had been a harsh winter given the snow levels, the winds, and more than one avalanche threat.  That knowledge alone caused a shiver to roll down her spine.  The city was due for something to bring everything to a halt which only amped up her sense of unrest.

Aelin shoved it aside as she pulled onto the main road and headed to the firehouse.

She’d thought about bringing Elide with her.  Her friend could offer a miraculous amount of moral support even if she hated people herself.  Unfortunately for Aelin, Elide had parent-teacher conferences all morning.

It was fine.  She knew how to talk to people.  She knew how to talk to Rowan.

By the time she rolled up to the station, thick raindrops splattered against her windshield.  It wouldn’t surprise her if they’d turn to snowflakes within the hour.  She parked and jumped out of the car, grabbing the Tupperware of cookies.

The firehouse had undergone a few different remodels, nothing expansive.  It was clear enough that they were still under budget, what with the peeling siding and moss encroaching along the windows.  But it was clean and it functioned well enough.  Aelin had never actually been inside it.  Maybe once back when she’d been in elementary school.  It had always come across as something off-limits.

As it was, she felt out of place when she walked through the main door.  It was a strange feeling creeping through her, one she didn’t like.  Never had she felt this way.  She was always self-assured and confident that nothing shook her.  Except this, apparently.

“Can I—Well, look who it is.” The voice caught Aelin off-guard and she paused, trying to pinpoint where it had come from.

She finally glanced up to see the man standing in a lofted section of the firehouse.  He leaned against the glass railing looking down at her, blond curls falling to his shoulders and an impish grin alight on his features.  It was one of Rowan’s squad mates that she’d met briefly so many weeks ago.

“Hi,” she said, raising a hand in greeting.

The man was already heading down the stairs to meet her.  Dressed in a navy-blue uniform, crisply pressed and adorned with a few patches and a nametag, he looked smart and well put together.  She’d forgotten it was some unspoken rule for all emergency responders to be ridiculously attractive.  

“Fenrys, right?” she asked as he approached.  He wasn’t quite as tall or big as Rowan, but he was still a wall of muscle.

Cracking a charming grin that boasted a dimple in one cheek, he spread his arms. “The one and only.”

So, he was a flirt.  Aelin could go with that.

“I’m Aelin,” she began, deciding it best to just word vomit away her anxiety.

“Rowan’s neighbor,” Fenrys finished for her. “I remember.  We met on poker night.”

“Did you win?” she asked, “I seem to recall there were some questions about how skilled you actually are.”

Fenrys flashed a devastating smile that once might have had Aelin leaning closer, flashing a smile of her own. Once…she didn’t quite know or understand what was stopping her now.  But now as she stood there with a ridiculously attractive man (in uniform) standing before her, Aelin couldn’t bring it out of her to rise to the bait.  To flirt.  And Aelin loved flirting.  She loved the chase or it all, having fun.  And now…

“Oh, I’m actually quite capable,” Fenrys assured her, that gleam in his eyes still burning.

“Moonbeam!” The shout came from deeper in the station.

Coming from around the back of one of the trucks was Rowan.  He too wore his uniform blues, like Fenrys it only had a nametag and patch of the firehouse sigil.  The fabric of the shirt was tight over his broad shoulders and back.  His silver hair had grown out a little since Aelin had cut it.  Now, it had been styled carefully out of his face, even now a few strands hung down over his forehead.  

Aelin’s fingers tightened around the Tupperware of cookies on instinct.  It only just occurred to her how stupid it was to bring cookies by.  When had she seen Rowan Whitethorn willingly eat sugar?  She knew him well enough to know that he wasn’t a candy or sweets or cookie guy.  Hell in a handbasket.  

“Aelin?” Rowan came to a stop, still several yards away, looking more confused than she’d ever seen him.  It would have been amusing if she herself weren’t just as confused over her own actions.

“Hi.”  She raised the Tupperware in a salute because she was an absolute fool.  “I brought some cookies.”

“And she bakes,” Fenrys said with a low whistle. He inched closer to Aelin, slowly reaching for the cookies. “You know, if you’re single—”

“Down, boy,” Aelin said.  She raised a brow giving him a significant look.  His grin only deepened.  Rolling her eyes, Aelin opened the Tupperware and offered him the cookies.

Rowan, finally seeming to collect himself, walked towards them.  He shot Fenrys a glare that the other man missed entirely.  Aelin held the cookies out.

“I wanted to say thanks for the other night,” she said, “so I brought a small offering.”

Rowan’s features didn’t soften any as he looked away from Fenrys to the Tupperware of chocolate chip cookies.  While she wasn’t the best cook or baker, Aelin did know how to make a mean batch of cookies.  But with the furrow in his brow and downturn of his lips, Rowan didn’t appear to be impressed.

“If he doesn’t eat them, I will,” Fenrys offered eagerly. 

Perhaps the younger man should have just kept quiet as Rowan dropped a hand roughly onto his shoulder and pulled back.

“Didn’t I hear you have an ambu to restock?” Rowan asked, his tone not at all inclining a suggestion.

Fenrys only grinned before snatching another cookie. “Easy old man, I’m going.  Nice talking to you Aelin.”

“Bye, Fenrys,” Aelin called after him as he loped away towards the ambulance on the far side of the station.  Her heart rate ratcheted up to an annoying speed when she turned back to Rowan.  Even scowling, he was too damned attractive.  “The cookies were really only for you.  Is he always like that?”

“A pain in my ass, sure.” Rowan still didn’t take the cookies and Aelin felt a rock form in her stomach.

“Cookies are all I know how to make,” Aelin said, over explaining as she always did. “And I figured even you couldn’t turn them down.  They’re chocolate chip.”

Finally, as though it utterly pained him, Rowan took the Tupperware.

“Thanks,” he said, his scowl softening only a little.

“A little sugar never hurt anyone,” Aelin replied.  She stuffed her hands into the pockets of her coat. “And I figured you��ve never had any sugar in your life, so these would be extra special.”

“Ha.”

Taking that as a victory, Aelin smiled. “Really, though, thanks for your help with Fleetfoot.  And I’m sorry about the mess I’m dragging you through with the pretend boyfriend and now your mom is in on it.”

Rowan waved away her words. “Don’t worry about it.”

But she would worry, especially when he had now reverted back to his cold exterior.  The person who barely tolerated her.  What had happened over the last few days to make it feel like he couldn’t stand her?

“I won’t keep you then,” Aelin said.  “It looks like a storm’s coming in, I’m sure you guys will be busy taking care of it.”

“Shouldn’t be too bad,” Rowan replied with a shrug. “So long as people are smart about their choices.”

“That’s putting a lot of faith in the human race,” she said, dryly.

Rowan’s lips twitched. “I forgot, some people choose to go careening down ravines for a tennis ball.”

“You try telling Fleetfoot we’re leaving her favorite toy behind, have you seen her eyes?” Aelin tried not to be offended.  Really, she did.

“You spoil that dog,” he said.

“I’m her mother, it’s my right.”

Rowan only shook his head. “Yeah, alright.”

Finally, Aelin could feel a little better about the situation and not so much like a fool for stopping by.  Barely.

“Enjoy the cookies,” Aelin said, angling herself to head back the way she came.  “And try to have at least on of them before passing them off on your mates, yeah?”

“Yeah, yeah,” Rowan said.

He returned her wave and Aelin headed back to the station door, regretting the inevitable chill she would be faced with.

She was passing the ambulance when she saw Fenrys again.  He looked like he was going through inventory, just like Rowan had told him to do.  Several cases and bags of equipment were laid out on the end of the truck and he had a clipboard in hand as he went through everything.  He glanced up when he saw her, flashing a grin.

“It was good seeing you Aelin,” he said, “sorry for Rowan.  He’s always got a stick up his ass about something.”

“He’s not so bad,” she replied, unable to help the comment. “I’ve been neighbors with him a while now, I get it.”

“You know,” Fenrys said, leaning against the side of the ambulance, “you should come out tonight.  We’re headed to the Mistward Bar after shift.”

Aelin paused, wondering if she had heard him right. “Come out?”

“Sure, drinks, food, there’s even a band that plays on Fridays,” Fenrys said. “It’ll be fun.”

Since Sam, Aelin hadn’t tried talking to new people.  Hadn’t tried dating or going out.  Hell, it really had been a while since she’d done something fun like this.  A niggling thought in the back of her mind pushed her towards Rowan.  Rowan who she’d become somewhat friends with.  But, he’d had plenty of time to make a move, hadn’t he?  To not be so hot and cold, to actually appear more than a friend.

“I’ll see what I can do,” Aelin said, already feeling a bit of excitement over the night bloom in her chest.

Fenrys beamed at her. “See you tonight.”

Aelin smiled back.  That excitement already growing into something more than just a simple bloom.  She waved to Fenrys and headed back out into the snowy morning to her car.

.*.

“You what?” Rowan stared, slightly dumbfounded, at Fenrys as he grabbed an apple from the kitchen counter.

The station was, blessedly, quiet.  Not even the regular firefighters or paramedics were busy with calls or anything.  Everyone had just faded into a calm, no-nonsense afternoon.  Which was a miracle that he wouldn’t announce aloud.  The second you acknowledged the quiet, all hell broke loose.

“I invited her out to Mistward tonight,” Fenrys said with a shrug.  He leaned into the counter, resting his elbow on the marble. “What?  She’s hot.”

Rowan squeezed the apple in his hands so tight he was shocked when the entire thing didn’t burst apart like something out of a cartoon.  He was only slightly worried about his line of thinking.  Mostly, he was just irritated at Fenrys running his fat mouth.

“C’mon man,” he said.

“Oh, like you haven’t noticed.”  Fenrys guffawed and straightened.  He shook his head, golden curls falling around his face. “You’ve gone out with her a couple times, haven’t you?”

He had, but Rowan didn’t consider those actual dates.  Not really.  No matter how much he wanted those times to be seen as dates, it wasn’t a line he was willing to cross.  Not again.  The last time he’d misread a situation had led to him moving across the country and losing contact with his entire life.  He wasn’t going to start from scratch again.

“Are you trying to get with her?” Fenrys pressed when Rowan remained silent.

Even after knowing the other man for a few years, there were times that Rowan wanted to punch Fenrys in the face.  A few years younger with a big enough ego for the entire squad, Fenrys had taken some getting used to.  He was a capable ranger and rescuer, but he specialized in pushing other’s patience.

Like now.

Because Rowan didn’t want to think about a relationship with Aelin.  He couldn’t.  That would just be a long and painful road for the both of them and he wouldn’t do that to her.

“She’s not even your type,” Rowan said.  He knew the argument was weak.  Hell.  Arrogant, sarcastic, and flawlessly beautiful—Aelin was anyone’s type.  Yet just the sight of Aelin talking to Fenrys had been enough to piss Rowan off more than he’d been in a long time.

“What’d you know?” Fenrys asked. “Man, if you want a shot say so.”

“It doesn’t—” Rowan began, only he never got to finish the sentence.

From down below in the conference room, Gavriel rallied them for one of their scheduled training sessions.  Maybe it was better that way, Rowan had no idea what he’d say to Fenrys to begin with.  Because, truth be told, the kid was right.

He did want a shot with Aelin.  And that alone scared the shit out of him.

.*.*.*.*.*.

On track for 15 parts total.  I may try and just end it at 14 for all our sakes.

[average-hyperfixator]

@psyylexicc I FINALLY FINSHED EM

A few older ones are tossed in here bc I really didn’t wanna keep you waiting more than I already have been

To everyone else- “Human” AM artdump

The last one is my personal favorite, I hope this amount is suitable lol, I’m just far too tired to make moreee- plus I have some asks to deal with on my Ted blog blargh

[larkral]

Blargh! I need a new header, except that my most recent OS update on my computer has end-of-life'd my long-term relationship with a once-purchased full Adobe suite, so I both have to find a new photo editing program AND learn to use it? Travail upon travail.

ANYWAY thanks for the tags today to @kiwiana-writes @run-for-chamo-miles @monbons @you-remind-me-of-the-babe and @shrekgogurt (squeaking just at the arbitrary tumbr per-paragraph tag limit. PHEW) I am continually delighted by all the snippets people are sharing. Why oh why are there things I have to do with my time that aren't "write and read fanfiction"?

Anyway! One of those things this week was to trace a mural on my daughter's wall. I was...perhaps too ambitious with the design, but we'll get there eventually. This is the traced mural!

I've also been writing a bit!

Eight (sorry not sorry) sentences from Finally (already, always):

"It's fine," he says, "I get it." Then he sits on my bed next to me and tugs my wand from my hand to set it on the nightstand. He presses his thigh to mine to nudge me over. "You know I don't think I've ever heard my dad say the word vampire? Before this summer, I mean. I don't know why. It's not like we haven't always known. Even Mordelia knows, and she's four."

And Six sentences of FirstPrince Soulmate BS, because if you read my last line this week you deserve to know a bit more context. :D

"Oh," Beatrice says on seeing Alex. "My apologies. We were planning on joining you for supper." She turns to Henry, "Did you not tell him?"  "No," Henry says with a quizzical expression, "I did." "Thought you were just being polite," Alex responds as he closes his laptop and stands.

Tagging everyone below the cut even though it's late, because I want to start your Mondays off right, and I'm claiming the ability to brighten your day. Humor me. :D

@stitchyqueer @confused-bi-queer @raenestee @facewithoutheart @whogaveyoupermission

@cutestkilla @hushed-chorus @sillyunicorn @wellbelesbian @basiltonbutliketheherb

@ileadacharmedlife @asocialpessimist @bookish-bogwitch @aristocratic-otter @captain-aralias

@petedavidsonscock @artsyunderstudy @carryonvisinata @takenabackbytuesdays @martsonmars

@nausikaaa @nightimedreamersghost @chen-chen-chen-again-chen @ionlydrinkhotwater @that-disabled-princess

@palimpsessed @fatalfangirl​ @blackberrysummerblog​ @valeffelees @mooncello

@j-nipper-95 @youarenevertooold @emeryhall @talentpiper11 @roomwithanopenfire

@imagineacoolusername @orange-peony @thewholelemon

<3 <3 <3

[scary-pixie]

Blargh...I feel soooo burnt out with art right now. I still have a couple pieces to work on on behind the scenes (one commission and two gifts, so I can't post them for a while yet), but otherwise it feels like a treadmill to nowhere (FACT: all treadmills lead to nowhere). The "big" social media sites like Instagram and Twitter suck ass for artists these days, and my engagement is about a third of what it used to be. SHIT, Instagram doesn't even have a proper "hashtag search" function anymore (it only shows top posts)! God damn it!!

I may try and put my Writer's Hat on for a while, since that's been my alternate thing for the last few years. Fun Fact: I occasionally write for both a video game website and a Canadian magazine, though I'm not sure I wanna mix the "professional" stuff with all the horse's ass nonsense I post on here, so I'll keep the details private for now.

I'm thinking of perhaps going back to writing blog entries about the games I've been playing (unrelated to the site) and maybe some other retro media, since that's an idea I've been toying around with for a while. I'm also confident enough to do little videos now, so maybe I'll mix a few in?

Or maybe I'll write stories with lots of dicks in them, I dunno.

Third possibility: I'm just in A Mood, and will go right back to doing art in a couple days. We'll see!

GOD DAMN IT, if only "being a fangirl" was a viable career path...!!

[ythrial]

📻 + fialine, valdani, & ythrial !! 🫶

coughs so weakly … thank you beautiful

FIALINE – afraid, neko case.

i feel like this one is pretty obvious hehe … she was pretty blood-crazy, impudent and careless in those first years back in the city but in time (& especially after she’s forced to kill qiyola (the lady she was with)) that changes drastically . her relationship with her was probably the last thing she really “had” that was her own.

VALDANI – the moon doesn’t mind, lord huron.

idk how much you remember about all this it was a long time ago when i explained it, but they were very close with a woman called keyralei way back when, who warned them against working for erendahl because she didn’t trust him as far as she could throw him (and she was right not to 🙂‍↔️) they lose contact gradually as valdani becomes more reclusive, and to me this one Is that moment when erendahl forces them to go with him to bg …

YTHRIAL – before i sleep, marika hackman.

blargh… ythrial/eder makes me so sicky. to me this one is her belief that leaving him was inevitable. what they had, however brief, was so overwhelming (not in a bad way, just in a way that she couldn’t really process?) that she felt she had to get away, even though she did l*ve him 🙂‍↕️ she knows she’s taking vela too, to raise her somewhere far away from all of this watcher insanity. worked out so well ☹️

[arecaceae175]

Remedy

Fic raffle gift for @blarghy-blergh!!! Blargh, I'm pretty sure you can't interact on tumblr rn but I wanted you to see it anyway! If you need me to remove the tag I can also do that <3<3<3.

Summary: Wild has a chronic pain flare up while the group is separated. Legend helps, and then they have a conversation about internalized ableism and accessibility.

1572 words, hurt/comfort

Notes:

I’m apparently vibing with chronic pain Legend and Wild lately (I started this one the day after I posted my last chronic pain one lol). This turned into Wild AND Legend hurt/comfort, I hope you don’t mind :D. I’m not sure about the end of this tbh, but I hope you enjoy!!!

Warnings: chronic pain flare up, little teeny bit of internalized ableism, discussion of pain but not in detail

Disclaimer: I do not experience chronic pain. I have some intermittent pains from my disabilities but not chronic pain itself. In addition to using my own experiences, I did some research so I could try to make this as accurate as possible :). I used info for myofascial pain/muscle spasm, hypertrophic and contracture scarring, and generalized chronic pain flare ups. Also fun fact: all the remedies Wild uses here are based on real world remedies. The jelly he has is basically magic icy hot XD

When Wild stumbled over nothing but dirt for the fourth time, Legend decided enough was enough. 

“Alright, that’s it,” Legend said. He turned around and put a hand out in front of Wild’s chest. Wild couldn’t stop himself in time and walked into it, then blinked in surprise when he felt the impact. 

“We need to stop,” Legend said. Wild’s eyes moved in Legend’s direction, but took longer than usual to focus.

“What?” Wild asked. His voice was quieter than usual. Legend frowned.

“We’re stopping,” Legend said. 

“We can’t,” Wild rasped. Legend huffed in frustration, crossed his arms, and stared at Wild. Wild held his gaze for a moment, then dropped his eyes to the ground. 

Legend took the moment of silence to study Wild’s body language. Wild’s shoulders were hunched and curled to the left, his skin was pale, and he was holding his left arm at an awkward angle, one fist clutching his shirt. He was leaning heavily on his right foot. Legend sighed in sympathy as he realized what was going on: pain flare up.

“I should have noticed,” Legend muttered. Then, louder, “Why didn’t you say anything?”

Wild at least had the decency to look ashamed. “This is my Hyrule.”

“And?”

“And?  We’re separated and no one else knows how to navigate here. It’s my responsibility to find everyone and keep us safe here. And…” Wild’s voice got quieter, and he sighed exasperatedly. “I was really hoping it would go away.” 

Wild brought his right hand up to rub his eyes, then let it fall gently to his side. Legend felt the tension drain out of him. He sighed and walked over to Wild, then put a gentle hand on his back. 

“Okay,” Legend said. He started to rub comforting circles on Wild’s back, the way Sky does sometimes when he’s the one stuck in a flare up. 

“Look, I get it,” Legend continued as Wild turned his head away so Legend couldn’t see his face. “I know you’re worried about the others. I am too. But you won’t be able to help if you overdo it and make the pain worse. You have to listen to your body.”

“I know,” Wild whispered in a shaky voice. 

“Are we close to a town or anything?” Legend asked. 

“No,” Wild muttered. “I was hoping we would reach Lakeside Stable before it got bad.”

“What about your slate? Can you, what do you call it, warp?” Legend asked, waving one hand aimlessly to help him remember the words. 

Wild shook his head and flinched immediately. “Makes it worse. Learned from experience,” Wild said through what sounded like gritted teeth.

“Alright, let's stop here, then. I’ll make sure the area’s clear once you’re settled,” Legend said. Wild nodded. 

Legend led him to the nearest patch of grass and let Wild lean against a tree while Legend quickly set up his bedroll. Wild had his eyes clenched shut and his breathing was carefully controlled. A small smile crept onto Legend's face. He taught Wild that breathing technique. 

As soon as the bedroll was set up Legend guided Wild to lay down. Wild put all his weight on Legend and on his right leg, and carefully avoided moving his left hip or shoulder as much as possible. Once Wild was laying down, Legend made sure there was enough padding, but not too much, underneath the worst of Wild’s scarring. 

“Just checking,” Legend said. “It’s the scars, right?” 

“Yeah,” Wild said as he threw his right arm over his eyes. “Scars and hip and shoulder. Same injury. And... everywhere.”

“I’m out of potions. You?” Legend asked. 

“I’ve got green,” Wild said. 

“That won’t help,” Legend said. “Unless you want to be awake and energized through this.”

“Definitely not.”

“Wars used the last of the valerian root last week, didn’t he?” Legend asked. “Got anything else to help you sleep?”

“Um,” Wild said. His fists clenched and a pained grunt slipped out of his mouth. Even beneath Wild’s clothes, Legend could see his muscles spasm.

Legend felt his own joints throb in sympathy. He pulled a few rings off his fingers, the ones enchanted to relieve pain, and gently placed his hand over Wild’s fist. 

“When you can, open your hand,” Legend said softly. “Remember to breathe.”

Wild’s breaths began to even out at Legend’s words. After a minute, His fingers uncurled enough for Legend to slip the rings on his fingers. Luckily, most of the group had small hands, so Legend could share his rings when he needed to. 

“Can I get the herbs out of your bag? I know the case,” Legend said. “Squeeze my hand once for no, twice for yes.” Wild squeezed twice.

Legend nodded and turned to Wild’s bag. He pulled out the leather case and opened the clasp. It unrolled to show numerous tubes and jars, all labeled in Flora’s pristine handwriting.

Dandelion and stinging nettle tea - Joint health 

Mint, lavender, and fire chu chu jelly - Scar gel

Willow bark - Pain relief

Chamomile - Calming

Valerian root - Sleep aid

The valerian root case was empty. Most of the group dealt with nightmares or insomnia at one point or another. Wild usually brewed the dandelion tea in the evenings and shared it with anyone who wanted some. Wild was always happy to share his supplies, but that meant they went fast. They stocked up as much as they could whenever they found themselves in Wild’s Hyrule. 

Legend pulled out the jar of the scar gel, the willow bark tea, and the chamomile tea. He quickly set up Wild’s travel pot and got water brewing for the tea. 

“Thank you,” Wild whispered. 

Legend glanced at Wild with a smile. “Of course. We’ll rest here until you’re okay to move, then we’ll get to that stable. I’m sure the others will be fine.”

“Yeah,” Wild said. 

“I’ve got water going for willow bark and chamomile tea. Does that sound okay?” Legend asked. 

“Yeah.”

“I got the scar gel out, too,” Legend said, with a glance in Wild’s direction. Wild’s eyes moved under his tightly shut eyelids, but he didn’t otherwise react. 

“If you want, I could help you apply it,” Legend suggested hesitantly. He didn’t want to seem overbearing. 

“If you don’t mind, that would be great,” Wild said. His voice was still strained, and it made Legend’s heart clench. 

“No problem. Let me get the tea going first,” Legend said. 

~ ~ ~ ▲ ~ ~ ~

It was nearly 24 hours until Wild felt alright enough to travel. It wasn’t the shortest Wild’s flares have ever been, but it was also by far not the longest. Legend was thankful it was on the shorter side since they were in the wilderness without backup. 

Getting to the stable was slow going. Wild still moved stiffly and slowly, but he could move. Legend would take what he could get. 

Legend has Wild’s good arm slung around his shoulder and was trying to take as much of Wild’s weight as possible. Wild, in his usual self-sacrificing manner, was trying to put as little of his weight on Legend as possible. Legend smacked him lightly on the arm whenever he thought Wild wasn’t leaning on him enough. 

By the time the stable was in view, Wild’s eyelids were drooping and his steps were becoming more and more uneven. Wind and Twilight were sitting outside the table at the cooking pot. Wind glanced up, then nudged Twilight and they both ran towards Legend and Wild. 

“What happened?” Twilight asked as soon as he was within earshot. He quickly took Wild’s arm from Legend and began guiding him towards the stable.

“Careful,” Wild said. “I’m fine.”

“You don’t look very fine,” Wind said. He was hovering anxiously beside Wild. 

“Pain flare up,” Legend explained. Twilight scowled. 

“I’ll be fine,” Wild said. 

“You will be. We’ll get you feeling better in no time,” Twilight said in a soft, comforting voice. 

“It seems to be getting better already,” Legend said. “We only had to stop for a day.”

Legend didn’t need to explain the details. The others have seen the effects.

“Come on, let’s see if we can rent the back room,” Wind said. He grabbed Legend’s hand and pulled him into the stable. 

“Are the others here?” Legend asked as he followed Wind. 

“Everyone’s accounted for! We’ve been taking shifts searching for you two,” Wind explained. Legend let out a quiet breath of relief, letting the stress flow out of him with the exhale. Wild was being taken care of and the others were all safe. He could relax.

“Good,” Legend said. 

Legend felt the exhaustion of the past two days hit him all at once. He let Wind take the lead on renting the room, then made sure to help Wild settle in the room. Wild was asleep as soon as he was on the bed. 

“Why don’t you get some rest, too, Vet,” Twilight said with a gentle hand on Legend’s back. 

Legend nodded his agreement. The room had two beds, but the thought of being too far from Wild right now was making him anxious. Twilight caught on and patted the bed next to Wild.

“He doesn’t take up much space. I’m sure he wouldn’t mind,” Twilight said quietly. 

Legend very, very carefully lowered himself onto the bed and slipped underneath the covers. He could feel Wild’s labored breathing through the mattress, and he let it lull him into a light sleep.

[a-scummy-hybrid]

My brain is half tempted to purchase Pikmin 1 + 2 on Nintendo Switch if possible... but... that requires money... but... Quality of Life improvements... damn you Nintendo, for making PIKMIN©️™️ affordable on the Nintendo Switch with QOL improvements from the future Pikmin Titles. Although a part of me really wants the portability/comfort of the Nintendo Switch.

GRAAAH

Iunno.

Does Pikmin 1 + 2 even exist? I ask because i found an unusual listing on Target that just had Pikmin 1 + 2 and i was like "is this real?".

Also i would probably have to purchase Pikmin 3 and 4, or could i just buy 4? Blargh.

I will resume playing Pikmin 1 & 2 on my Totally Legitamte GameSquare System. Besides, i only have 10 to 9 days remaining in Pikmin 1. Got 7 ship parts remaining, although technically, 6 ship parts remaining, with the last one being a part of a final area that i guess i dont got access to.

[kpchrs]

KRIS ON CRACK AGAIN - SCOTTSCOTT

So *PFFFFFT*

I was talking to @riverinkfics today that the ship name Caulscott could apply to Max and Brooke too and then they giggled for a hot minute because "Omg, is Nathan and Brooke ScottScott?!"

So I thought about how that ship would work and I made this shit up on the spot. Rewriting it properly for this post tho. For some reason, my brain works too smoothly with this after it stops working for months, why the hell.

Oh right, this is in the "Tornado? What tornado? Jefferson? Jefferson who?" AU.

If you wonder why "again", that's because I've written something else while being high on crack on sleep deprivation. Not this long and proper tho.

Crack fics are so dumb. Crack ships are so dumb. Credits to the two of us lol

Enjoy, whothefuckever you are.

(***)

Building a drone for Ms. Grant's project is not easy, Brooke thinks.

It's not easy because something else is occupying her spacious, brilliant mind. Something that starts with the letters W and M and those two letters going on a drive to see Ape movies together.

It's okay, Brooke thinks, in contrast to the bitterness oozing out from her heart. It's not like she doesn't have the Ape movies. It's not like she doesn't have all the original CDs in her room. It's not like Warren knows that.

But the problem is he knows. He knows, he sees her collection, and he still invites Max Caulfield. When she was the one who showed the drive-in flier to him. She was the one who helped choose the vintage car for him.

But maybe this is her fault. She chickened out trying to invite him first.

Wai-wait, Warrbrlgh, she bit (her tongue) that day, cocking an eyebrow on his face.

What's up, Brookes? he said.

And like some cliche girl, she panicked, a jumble of thoughts and word combinations in her mind, and instead blurted out, N-nothing.

Uh, okay, Warren said, rubbing the back of his neck. Then… I'll go back to my room.

Just like that, Brooke let him go. Let her chance go too, apparently, because the next day, Warren swooped in, showed off his car, and fumbled over his own tongue asking Max Caulfield out. And she accepted.

Max accepted.

So, yep, this heartbreak is nothing. It's nothing.

Like hell it's nothing. What if that was her last chance? What if at the end of the drive-in tomorrow, Warren will hold her hand, stare at her with those warm brown eyes of his, and then they will mack on each other's mouth and blargh, stop, stop, she doesn't want to imagine that. Gross. (It's a gross thing that would stop being one if she replaced Max with herself, though.)

Tears prickle her eyes and she harshly blinks it away. No, Brooke Scott won't cry like some cliche, plain Jane girls. Like a certain cliche, plain Jane girl. But maybe… maybe Warren likes that kind of girl…

Biting the insides of her mouth, Brooke grabs an apple, a stronger grip than necessary, attaching it to the drone. This drone will be a transport drone, just like the proposal she presented to Ms. Grant in class a month ago, and she will test it out now. To get it over with this annoying project so she can quickly go back to her room (and secretly weep to her pillow).

Controlling the drone with the controller she handmade herself, she watches as the drone smoothly flies and brings the apple. Good. Good. She can see clunks and kinks here and there, but she can fix that later. How about moving it away?

Her thumb pushes the joystick. The drone flies away towards the tree. Good, good. That's smoother than she expected. Maybe she can take a week to perfect it and then submit it to Ms. Grant early. What about flying it faster?

For a moment, she forgets about W, M, and apes. Brooke is all lemon and sea salt at the surface, but deep down she's still a geek who thrives on her sweet robotics passion. The excitement continues to bloom in her chest, but that stops when a flash of red passes by as her drone intersects.

Nathan Prescott is the red, somehow escaping her line of sight, and by some split of chance, the apple smacks one of his eyes when he whips his head at the whirling sound. As if that presses an invisible curse button, he lets out a plethora of swear words.

"Shit! Fuck! Fucking shit!" he yells, clenching his eye and doubling down. Brooke's stupid fingers unconsciously turn off the drone and it also falls on his head with a crashing sound. "AGH! GOD. FUCKING. DAMMIT!"

That should be my words, she grits out in her head. She messes up, colliding her drone - and her life and death - with Nathan Prescott, the entitled King of Blackwell. Brooke won't admit it, but she is terrified. She is going to run away or something, but Nathan clocks her first and yells, "WHAT THE FUCK, BITCH?"

It's just so like her, letting go of her chance again. For some reason, that upsets her so much, so she hardens her gaze and claps back, "You in the way is what the fuck, Nathan Prescott."

Passive-aggressive sarcasm is one of her greatest fortes. This time, she turns down the passiveness to 0 and turns up the aggressiveness to 11.

"What did you say?!"

"You were in the way when I was testing my drone."

"Your dumbass drone was in the way when I was minding my own business!" he hisses.

That's true. She should have just apologized and begone, because that's what Brooke who prides on her intelligence would do, but nope, apparently Max and Warren lower her IQ.

"Maybe if you were smarter you would've taken your dumbass Prescott business somewhere else."

Look at that, saying another person should be smarter? That's so ironic of her.

Nathan maroons, imitating the color of his jacket. "You-!"

Aw, what luck. Now she has done it.

Nathan grabs her drone on the ground and stomps stomps stomps his feet towards her. Brooke takes a step back and a hand swipes at hers.

"I'm taking this."

It takes her a second to realize Nathan has stolen her controller. "You can't. That's my science project!"

"And you should've thought of that before forgetting the Prescotts own this town and your ass and this shitty drone. Fuck off."

The flash of red goes away as fast as it came. And all that Brooke can think of is that she wouldn't be able to submit the project earlier to Ms. Grant now.

This is all because of the plain Jane Doe Max Caulfield.

(***)

Brooke didn't follow her plan yesterday, weeping to her pillow, and she was so proud of herself. So proud of herself for not being weak.

Instead, she replaced it with some good scream which thus why she wakes up with a hoarse throat. Just when she pushes her body from bed, she remembers what day it is (Max and Warren's date) and she just wants to go back to sleep.

Max and Warren.

Max and Warren.

Max and Warren.

Brooke never thinks she will say this, but at that point, she hates her brain for getting stuck in a spiral.

Holing up in her room in the dark is not good for human psyche. The journals she reads are right. So she forces herself to come out of the dorm two hours before the sun dips completely in the west and drops her body on the bench, facing the dorm.

Ah. The dorm. The dorm which is owned by a certain family whose family asshole is one of the students. Why, why, why everything reminds her of the shitty yesterday.

Whirlwhirlwhirlwhirlwhirlwhirl-

Wait, that sounds familiar. And fast, like so fast. And right behind her.

On reflex, Brooke turns around and just like a weird deja vu, an apple smacks her glasses. She loses her balance on the bench, falls on her butt, and the drone, her drone, smashes to the dorm wall in a loud crash.

Brooke bites a whimper, removing her glasses to rub the aching nose bridge and not trying to move from her position because her butt cheek numbs.

The sounds of steps approaching her are slow and quiet. Brooke puts on her glasses, snaps her head at the figure, and meets with a constipated Nathan Prescott. Constipated as in he looks like he can't decide between smirking or grimacing. Like he wants to say something but fighting to keep his mouth shut.

"H-hell yeah, fucking revenge," Nathan decides to say in the end, sounding unsure. He still wears a constipated face.

Brooke's vision blurs so she puts on her glasses, but it's on already. Her cheeks are warm and wet. When she realizes what happens, the embarrassment and dread pain her more than the gravity pulling her butt cheek to the ground.

"Wh-wh-wh-why the fuck are you crying???" said Nathan, his tone shrill. He's so entitled he thinks he can panic when it SHOULD be her right. "OKAY, OKAY, SHIT. I'M SORRY, OKAY."

"That hurts, you asshole!" she screams, letting go of her tears and her pride finally. "And this hurts too!"

Maybe Nathan thinks she's talking about her butt or her nose or whatever, but she means this, as in the organ beating in her chest. A vital organ that for some reason has a brain on its own.

Max and Warren.

It hurts.

(***)

"That's bullshit!" Leaning on the wall, Nathan chomps the bruised apple after rubbing it for a moment on his prized jacket.

That's so gross. Boys are gross. That apple has rolled on the ground several times. It's hardly fresh anymore. But whatever. If Nathan ends up with the opposite of constipation, that's not her problem.

"I bet my ass he knows."

"Knows what." Brooke stared at him, bored. Fingers fiddle her ransacked drone.

"That guy knows your goddamn feelings, that's what!"

Oh yeah, Brooke told him everything. She'll admit it now for once. She's an idiot.

"He," Nathan starts, chewing another bite, "pretends not to know."

Mm, yeah, that stings.

"Why?"

"Dunno. Just my guts."

Brooke can't help it. She stares him down. And sitting on the bench while him on the grass, that's easy.

He glares back, though. Tch, Prescott scrub.

"Inviting Max Caulfield?" Nathan spits Jane Doe's name as if it's insect. "Shitty choice."

Oh. Oh! Max Caulfield is shitty. They agree on something.

"And Warren Graham? Double shitty choice."

Wait. "Are you saying my tastes are bad?"

"Oh, c'mon. Warren? Graham? Seriously? My eyes fucking burn every time I come out of my room and see him and his dumb Tee. Do you know he plays games in the toilet? Yikes."

"And you are eating a filthy-ass apple. You're not any better than him with that logic, Prescott," Brooke hisses low.

"Don't challenge me, Scott. You don't know who you are messing with." Nathan squinted. "I'm saying that maybe they deserve the shittiness of each other. That's all."

"You think I'm not shitty?"

"Who the fuck says that?"

It sounds like that, to be honest. But she doesn't really care about his opinion, so Brooke shrugs.

Nathan stops chomping on his apple. Brooke wants to think he gets self-conscious after she calls him out eating the gross apple. He proceeds to toss it, like it's a ball.

Up. Down. Up. Down.

Gravity.

"The apple bonks both our heads. We should have gotten some sort of epiphany by now."

Nathan raises his brow.

"Isaac Newton."

"Ah, that dude."

"Newton got the idea of the theory of gravity because an apple hit his head," Brooke said, in a reflective tone. "What's ours?"

Nathan shrugs. "Who cares."

Well. That's fine. She will think of her own.

Warren pretending not to know. That feels so shitty. So shitty. But if what Nathan says is true…

Brooke tries to imagine Warren's face that day when she tries to ask him out. Yeah, she can see that. She sees the air of relief coming out of his mouth when Brooke backed off. She just didn't see it because her brain selected what she wanted to see.

And that means, she really doesn't have any chance with Warren.

Or maybe... Warren… doesn't deserve her. If Warren likes his girl plain, then maybe Brooke shouldn't stoop low to that level. Wait, what if, what if he is a John Doe himself?!

Oh, wow, the apple really works. She really gets an epiphany. She needs help but yeah, she gets it.

Nathan watches her, but she's busy thinking. He tosses the apple to the air one last time and then throws it far. Right to the trash bin.

"Well, glad to be your Newton service." He stands up, clapping sticky hands. "I'm bored. I'm going."

"Get your own epiphany," Brooke says, surprisingly sincere, when he's leaving. "Whatever it is."

Nathan smirks across his shoulder. "Mind your own Scott business." For a second there, she thinks she sees his gaze go brittle, but it must be her own imagination.

Brooke stays to watch as the sun dips and the hemisphere goes absent of light.

The next week, she hears something about Max Caulfield and some punk girl. And nothing, nothing about Warren and Max goes official, or some kiss, or whatever it is.

Maybe, Max Caulfield is not the Jane Doe she initially thought. Maybe, she also doesn't want to settle for a John Doe.

She exhales, as she gets another epiphany. Huh. Max Caulfield. Interesting.

But, Nathan is right, she thinks as she fixes and gives improvements on her drone.

That's not Scott business.

[bedlamsbard]

For anyone that missed it earlier, chapter 15 of Of Home Near went up today! This one is entirely set in 2018.

Mostly line edits written today -- I've got 16 already started from a while back, which is always nice; I no longer work off my old "only post when the next two chapters are completed" model, but I do like to have at least some of the next chapter written when I post a new chapter. (That model worked better when I had stories with more moving parts like Gambit or Backbone, so I was frequently moving scenes around between chapters; what it ended up meaning later on was that I just wasn't posting completed chapters, because for one reason or another I wasn't writing. This is why I had completed chapters of Crown and Lair to post last year: I'd been sitting on them since 2019. I had to actually break myself out of that model when I switched fandoms.)

Sad right now, for various reasons; the weather was gloomy today and I'm in the post-semester blargh, especially because I've got stuff I need to do but am trying to give myself at least a couple of days off even though I really shouldn't, so I just end up feeling guilty but not actually doing any of the things I need to do OR fully relaxing. also I watched six episodes of the television show I'm currently into, so like, there's that.

[muffinrecord]

Muffin, what do you think are the best and worst transformations?

Ohh that's a great question.

For transformation scenes, I prefer when an actual transformation occurs. I don't really like the ones where the emphasis is on the weapon appearing or just some pretty animation. Also, this goes without saying but I don't like fanservice in it. Lastly, I really like it when the video tells you a little bit about the character. I don't mean like... "this character likes books" or things like that, but stuff you can read into.

I'm just gonna go through the playlist...

Imo, Tart's is pretty bad. It's got some weird frames, it focuses a little too much on the weapon going from a banner to.. whatever, and her expression looks weird as fuck in the last shot.

Holy Alina's is great. It's a transformation but also insight into her state of mind. It's artsy and confusing and feels like a fever dream. I especially like the last couple seconds with the flash of light and dark (although I do wonder if this could possibly trigger a person with epilepsy or migraines? so there is that)

Seira's is bad. It has some REALLY questionable frames in it that expose her bare ass for no reason, and also imo it's kind of hard to tell what's going on in it. A shame because Seira is great.

Yozuru has a great one imo. It's artsy and I like the music. The transformation in the beginning is good but I love the layering and the final shot. It really brings to mind how Yozuru closed off an entire aspect of herself through her wish.

Swimsuit Mami's is good. I'm impressed they made a long-ass video about Mami in a swimsuit and none of it feels like fanservice.

(actually a lot of the videos from this time period are really well done imo).

Vampire Kanagi had a really artsy one.

Yuna has my favorite henshin of all time. It's just so good-- the music, the visuals, the character...

Hm... Let's go through em again.

A lot of the Suzune ones are pretty bad imo. Chisato and Haruka have awful ones from the fanservice alone. Tsubaki actually has a decent one though imo? I really like the detail where the flame forms in the shape of a flower for her.

Haregi Sayaka has one of the prettiest ones.

Moka's makes me laugh. I still remember a reddit comment that described her video as "hallucinating candy and almost getting her ass cut in half with her own axe"

Chika's is sooooo unexpectedly pretty??????

Sudachi's could have been so good if it wasn't for a few really gross frames. It has this unbearable sense of loneliness to me that's really beautiful, but the nakedness ruins it.

Jun's is. blargh.

Uwasa Sana has a beautiful one. That opening shot of her falling is great.

Alexandra is suffering.

Konoha & Hazuki's is fucking stunning.

Nayuta's is??? amazing??? with awesome music.

Hmmm... After Final Oriko, I can't really say I liked any of the henshins, up until Mikoto's maybe. Oh, and Dark Mitama had a good oneish. But you can def feel that the budget is being put into other areas. Some of them are decent (Urara) but rely on still shots for energy, some of them have good ideas but really fall on their face in terms of animation quality (Himena), and then some are just. why. (Swimsuit Madoka).

But I think criminally, some are just kind of forgettable. Rabi's is... idk it should have been better imo.

Granted, a bunch of earlier videos are kind of bland to me as well, but it's kind of a shame that the quality stepped down. However, like with Tsuyu's recent one, I think that even if you don't have a lot of budget, you can still make a decent transformation video. You just need to make good choices.

I think Mikoto has a better transformation than Infinite Iroha does. If you compare the two, Infinite Iroha has more stuff going on and actual animation while Mikoto has a lot of stillness, still frames, and zooms-- however, Mikoto's tells a story and teaches you about the character, and Infinite Iroha's is kind of boring. It also has some really interesting shots, like where she appears in handheld mirror. You can do a lot of reading into it, about who is "the real" Mikoto, if she's made up of many different faucets of herself or if it's something she's crafted, etc, but the point is that it's possible to do that with that video and not for Iroha's one.

Thanks for the ask!

[writtenonreceipts]

Rowaelin Month Day Ten: Concert @rowaelinscourt

Month Masterlist // Hey, Neighbor Masterlist // AO3 Link

a/n: blargh 2.0  The last few parts may play out rather quick development-wise. This is part 12 of 15. I may end up cutting out a part 15 though...

Warnings: mild angst, ~2.2k words.

.*.*.*.*.

Hey, Fool

For the first time since she was fourteen years old and about to have her first kiss with Chaol Westfold—Aelin had butterflies in her stomach.  It was disgusting.

The butterflies, not the kiss.

The kiss had actually been pretty good.

But the butterflies that were hurtling through her gut at breakneck speed were the exact definition of putrid.  How did anyone function like this?  Hell, why was she even reacting like this?  It was just a night out with a group of…friends…having fun.

Still, the nerves were getting to her.

“You look like you’re going to be sick.”

Elide sat perched on the bathroom counter watching with vague amusement as Aelin got ready.

“I think I am,” Aelin admitted.  She wrapped another section of hair around the curling iron, trying yet again to banish her nerves.

“Why?” Elide asked. “It’s just drinks and music.  Plus, Rowan’ll be there.”

That did not help Aelin’s stomach.  For many reasons.

“Yeah, but he didn’t invite me,” Aelin explained again. “And it just feels weird.”

“But you want to go?” Elide pressed.  She was absently twisting her own hair into a braid, not bothering to fix the strands if they were uneven or she missed a section.  She was mostly just present because Aelin had begged her to come over.

“I do,” Aelin agreed.  She bit her lip, setting the curling iron aside.

“You wish Rowan had asked you to go out instead,” Elide surmised, a slow smile growing on her face. “Right.”

Aelin scowled, re-sectioning her hair. “It’s not like that, Elide.”

“Sure, sure,” Elide said.  She grabbed one of the many tubes of mascara sitting on the counter and started fixing her own lashes. “So then why are you wearing your little black dress?”

Sometimes being friends with a hyper-observant individual was the worst.

“I like this dress.”

“You can’t wear a bra with it.”

“Exactly why I like it.”

Elide met her gaze in the mirror. “Have you, y’know, tried telling Rowan how you feel?”

“How I feel?” Aelin sputtered. She nearly burned her fingers on the iron as she picked it up again.  “I don’t know what you mean.”

“You’re an idiot.” Elide said. “You’ve been hanging out with him the last six months, calling in favors, introducing you to your parents—I don’t care what the circumstances were, you did it—Aelin, he’s not just some guy.”

“He doesn’t like me like that,” Aelin said. 

She finished the last section of her hair, arranging the curls around her face.  The strands were silky in her fingers as she separated the curls and shook them out a little.  Her make-up was still immaculate, thankfully.  She didn’t think she could stand still long enough to fix it up.

The motions were rote and easy.  They almost distracted her from Elide’s words.  Almost.  Because…Elide was right.  She didn’t have strictly platonic feelings toward Rowan.  And she hadn’t for a while now.

Maybe that was part of why she’d accepted Rowan’s invitation.  To show she wasn’t averse to going out.  But she’d accepted the invite from one of his coworkers, his friend.  Had she mucked this up for herself?

“Stop over thinking it,” Elide demanded.  “Just because you like the guy doesn’t mean you’re gonna marry him.  Go out tonight and see what happens.  Even if another guy invited you.  It wasn’t strictly a date.”

“I’m going,” Aelin said.  She straightened her shoulders and nodded at her reflection in the mirror. “And you’re coming with me.”

“Ah hell.”

.*.

East of Eyllwe was one of the only good things to come out of the bar, Rowan decided.

The band, composed of four main musicians, could actually hold a tune and write a good song that was more than a repeated phrase and kitschy base line.  The lead singer, Nehemia, was also a pretty cool person to talk to when she wasn’t inundated with fans.  Even though they were local, playing shows in the surrounding counties, Rowan was pretty sure they’d one day rise to a bigger stage.

For now, he’d appreciate the music while he had it.

As a whole, the bar was a decent place to hang out, as well.  It was one of the oldest bars in Terrasen with all the original fixtures still in place.  Even the old oak flooring hadn’t been redone.  The bar was also well known to most service men and women.  As it was a central location to both the fire station and police station, and the hospital was just a few blocks away—The Mistward always had a crowd.

Rowan entered the bar, later than intended, and shook off the chill from outside.  The promised storm was nearly at their doorstep, lingering just in the distance.  The snow had stopped at some point in the afternoon, leaving behind a desperate sort of chill that sank into your bones.  Soon, the floodgates would open and there’d be hell to pay.

For now, he embraced the warmth of the bar and the familiar scent of whiskey and wood.  It had been a while since he’d joined the rest of the crew for drinks.  Mostly to avoid being the subject of razzing.  They all knew his trials with Aelin and all enjoyed making a show of it.  If not that came the quest to get him a date.  And if all else failed—drunken pool.

The music filled the bar like a heavy weight.  The guitar and drums hitting out a steady beat that begged listeners to get up and move.  On the small stage Nehemia was at the mic, her long hair twisted into neat box braids, dark skin alight in flashing blue lights.

And this flood, this flood is slowly rising up

Swallowin’ the ground beneath my feet

Tell me how anybody thinks under this condition

So I’ll swim, I’ll swim

As the water rises up, sun is sinkin’ down

And now all I can see are the planets in a row

Suggestin’ it’s best that I—slow down

It was one of Rowans favorite songs they sang, he even had it downloaded on his phone.  It was made all the more enjoyable with Nehemia’s strong voice and the way she could slide from a low alto into a soprano without missing a beat.

And then Rowan saw the dance floor and who occupied it.

His attention glazed over Fenrys to the woman he was dancing with.  It was impossible not to notice her, with her tight fitting black dress that clung to her curves, hitting barely past the tops of her thighs, and her long blonde hair hanging in loose curls, that glowing, golden brown skin of hers—Aelin was impossible not to notice.  Especially when she smiled like that.

Rowan was sure he could only count on one hand the amount of times he’d seen her smile and laugh like that.

When they’d gone rock climbing, her parent’s dinner party, her impromptu dance party, when he’d been dressed as damned Santa Claus—

And they all seemed to pale in comparison to this.

The song faded away into a small piano riff as Nehemia announced a small break from the bad. As the music ended, a dull silence flooded the bar before natural chatter picked up. It felt like a weight was lifted from the room, but not in a comforting way.  Sometimes, that heady lull of music was the only thing that could keep you together.

Rowan felt that distinctly.

He watched as Aelin and Fenrys lingered on the dance floor, Fenrys leaning in to say something and Aelin letting out a laugh before punching his shoulder.  The sight had his gut clenching and a distinct flurry of…anger?  Irritation?  He didn’t know what it was only that it left a sour taste in his mouth.

Thinking about it too closely wouldn’t do him any good. 

Instead, he headed straight to the bar.  He needed a drink.  It hadn’t been a good day, even with the cookies Aelin had brought over.  He’d even had a few of them and, yes, they’d been delicious.  But that didn’t dull the exhaustion from being dragged through drills all afternoon.  In the snow. 

He reached the bar and signaled for a drink.  The bartender knew who he was, even if his record was spotty for coming it.  But Asterin had a sharp memory.  He leaned against the bar, trying to avoid where Aelin and Fenrys were still talking.  He instead landed on the sight of Lorcan sitting with a petite brunette on the other side of the bar.

That alone distracted Rowan enough from Aelin.  Lorcan hadn’t dated anyone, let alone shown interest in dating, since his ex left a year ago.  He’d be shocked about it later, he decided.

Asterin returned with his drink which Rowan accepted.  He downed most of it in one gulp.  The burn of the alcohol slid all the way down his throat and settled in his already roiling gut.  He should just leave.  No one had seen him yet anyways.

“Buzzard!  You made it.”

Aelin appeared beside him, one hand trailing across his back to settle on his shoulder.  The easy, gentle, way she touched him threatened to send a shiver racing over his skin.

“Surprised?” he asked looking up at her.

If he’d thought she looked good before, it was nothing compared to the up-close view.  Her make-up was flawless, the smokey shadow of her eyes and dark liner making her already vivid eyes pop.  Her cherry red lipstick hadn’t even begun to fade.  A sheen of sweat only made her skin glisten beneath the shadowed lights of the bar.

He was a fool, an idiot.  Ridiculous for even thinking he could keep his thoughts about her neutral.  Another reason he shouldn’t have come.  And why he should disentangle himself from her as a whole.

“Maybe,” she said, sliding onto the stool beside him.  She smiled as Asterin dropped a beer off for her. “I hear you don’t join the boys that often.”

“The boys?” he asked.

Aelin shrugged. “Fenrys and Connall are quite the pair.  And then Lorcan’s over there trying to hit on my friend.”

From the looks of it, Lorcan was actually having some success.  But Rowan wouldn’t say that.  He had a feeling Aelin was more than willing to rip Lorcan’s throat out at a moments notice.

“They’re good guys,” he said, because it was true and she deserved that confirmation. “Even Lorcan.”

“Jury’s still out on him,” Aelin admitted.  She took a slow pull of her drink as she looked him over. “How long have you known them?”

“Few years,” he admitted. “Even before moving to Terrasen, I did trainings and rescue missions with Lorcan and Gavriel before.”

“And Gavriel’s the captain?” Aelin asked, glancing over her shoulder to examine the crowd.

“He’s not here, he doesn’t come out with us usually,” Rowan explained.

“I didn’t think anyone liked people less than you,” Aelin said.

Rowan rolled hiss eyes while she smirked. 

“Smart ass,” he muttered.

“My ass is pretty great.”

“Great at getting into trouble.”

It was worse that she was so easy to talk to.  Worse that he wanted to talk to her.  He’d learned the hard way that the easy things, weren’t necessarily the best for you.  Maybe Aelin wasn’t Lyria.  And maybe she wasn’t prone to walking away, leaving people behind—but he wasn’t sure he could risk that.

He had a lot of issues and Lyria was only part of that.  But he couldn’t drag Aelin into any of that.  So maybe, maybe, he shouldn’t even try to get closer.  It would only make it worse for the both of them.

“C’mon,” Aelin said.  From the stage, a guitar chord indicated the music would start up again.  She reached out and took Rowan’s hand, her fingers lacing perfectly with his. “Let’s go dance.”

She took another pull of her drink before slipping off her stool and tugging on his hand.  There was something about her standing over him like that, with that small smile and the curve of her body—Rowan wanted to give into her.

But he couldn’t. 

If there was anything Lyria and his past in general had taught him it was that he didn’t get the happily ever after type ending.  It just wasn’t in the cards for him.

He stood, knocking back the rest of his drink before pulling away from her. 

“I can’t,” he said, stuffing his hands in his pockets to keep from reaching out, from pulling her back against him.

Aelin paused, staring at him with wide, confused eyes.

Over the speakers Nehemia started singing a cover to The Fray, the most random song she could have picked for The Mistward.  The piano was slowly joined by a subtle beat on the drums, keeping a calm, if tense, atmosphere building, building…

As he goes left, and you stay right Between the lines of fear and blame You begin to wonder why you came

Where did I go wrong? I lost a friend

“Fine,” Aelin said.

And then she was gone, lost to the crowd.

Bile rose in his gut and Rowan was sure he was going to be sick.  Fenrys soon replaced Aelin, looking just as confused, if a little upset.

“What the hell’d you do?” he demanded.

Rowan only shook his head and left the bar.

Outside, the snow began falling. 

.*.*.*.*.

songs included are "dark blue" by jack's mannequin and "how to save a life" by the fray.

[tayfabe75]

"End of era. I can't make retrospective statements. It's why I've been filming this documentary for 12 years. Every single time a statement ends, the idea to follow that with a retrospective statement, something that looks back, something that is celebratory of a previous thing, blargh, it makes me wanna crawl out of my skin, I hate it. I just wanna go forward. This is the only record where I do look back a little bit. I mean, I think the only time I specifically do it is in 'Guys'. 'The moment that we started a band, was the best thing that ever happened'. It's quite sad. It was also one for the homies, you know. I wanted to write a love song for friends. People don't have that very much. I love that idea. And even if it was the fact that going through the DNA of who we were, to make this record, there's so much reference to old emo core, or house music that we were growing up with. It feels like we went right back. We went and found all the old photos, you know, of where we came from, is almost how it felt to make this record. When I made this record, I was like, '[beep], this is the last 1975 record, for ages'. Not the last 1975 record, but this is definitely us stopping making music for a bit. There's essentially been lots of different album out, for this record. We live in a world of, you know, iTunes uploads six months before the record comes out. Someone's like, 'we needed a piece of artwork,' and I keep going, 'Okay, 'I'll give you our piece of artwork'. The artwork changed every week. The artwork now is basically the most minimal version, example, of what we've had, and it's all been based on texture, and the concept of wabi-sabi. The record's been about deconstruction. The record feels like it should be just in a paper bag. I wanted to steal The Durutti Column idea. The Durutti Column, one of my favorite bands of all time, they made one record, the vinyl cover was sandpaper, so it destroyed any record that it was next to. I mean, oh my God, how [beep] badass is that shit? That is so my vibe. I wish that I had of done it, but the thing is I love that idea so much that I couldn't have passed it off as my own. I grew up in punk and hardcore. The most punk person that I have ever met in my life is Greta Thunberg. She gave me a sense of hope, do you know what I mean? We're all kind of wallowing in nihilism, and what's the point? And when you meet her, she don't give you a pat on the back, I'll tell you that much, but she [beep] means what she's talking about. We were talking about the Sega Mega Drive startup sound of The 1975, and we were talking about how that happens every time, and we were like, 'What is the most modern version of that?' And then the conversation became, 'Well, what is the most modern thing? What is the most modern statement?' And it was Greta Thunberg, we realized, we get Greta Thunberg to sing it. 'We are facing a disaster of unspoken sufferings for enormous amounts of people'. That idea was obviously exciting, immediately. Using that platform is a great thing to do, and it's also creatively exciting. The moment she's deemed, she's one of the most important figures of our generation, but I really like the idea of formally encapsulating that in a piece of music that therefore exists in pop culture, in the way that music does, and goes on a record. You know, no one's gonna find a tweet about Greta Thunberg in the rubble, in a thousand years, do you know what I mean? But if in a thousand years they found that record, that would move somebody in a thousand years, who finds that in the rubble."

May 22, 2020: Matty explains The 1975's Notes on a Conditional Form album. (source)