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fatuismooches · 11 months ago

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fabulam diu oblitus - sequel.

synopsis: The tale of the raven and the sparrow has ended, but that doesn't mean it can't start again.

includes: dottore w/ gn! reader

notes: This is the fifth and final part of this fic, please read the other four before this! This is a fluffier continuation of the last part in order to soothe your hearts from the last part. Thank you to each and every one of you who supported me with this fic, it was a wonderful experience and I hope you all enjoyed it! Now, let's wrap up the tale of the raven and sparrow once and for all. (Also, I realize that this part may seem a bit reader-centric, but I hope it's still good!)

prelude. first interlude. second interlude. postlude. sequel.

It had been years since the Traveler had attended their first Akademiya Extravaganza. It was a marvelous experience. It had also been years since the old sages were overthrown, the Balladeer’s attempt to become a God, and of course, the deletion of the Doctor’s segments as well as the death of the Omega build.

But why was the Traveler still in Teyvat? Since they still had yet to find their treasured sibling, their journey persisted. And so they and their traveling companion had found themselves back in Sumeru for another fun festival. Paimon had already had her fill of games and yummy food, so now they were going to see a performance, by the one and only Nilou. Their friend often danced, but today would be a special one since it was during the festival.

“Oh wow! Zubayr Theater is so much more lively than usual!” Paimon exclaimed. Indeed, there was a large crowd gathered below the stage, all of them excited to watch the dancer’s performance. But there was one person who caught Paimon’s eye. Someone was sitting by themselves, away from the crowd.

“Huh? Look over there, someone is sitting all alone. Do you think they’re okay?”

“Paimon, just because someone is by themselves doesn’t mean they’re in trouble. Maybe they don’t like being around large groups of people.”

“Oh… Paimon knows that! But maybe we should check on them, just in case. We still have some time before Nilou’s performance.” The Traveler gave in to their friend’s request and the pair made their way over to you. But you were too lost in your thoughts to notice them coming.

Your illness still remained, but with all the years that had passed by, at least it wasn’t as bad as it was before. It didn’t totally dominate your life, and you were able to do some things by yourself that you couldn’t do before! It wasn’t a cure, but it was something. Though of course there were bad days, the good days were the ones you focused on more. Good days such as today.

You were back in Sumeru after hundreds of years. You never thought it would happen but, one day your husband came to you and told you the news so casually, you thought you were dreaming. You? Leaving Snezhnaya? It felt unreal! If you were stronger, you would have tackled him to the floor with your love, but alas you had to settle for squeezing him as hard as you could.

Though, to be honest, you weren’t sure if the Fatui actually had business there, or if he wanted to bring you there since you’d been longing for it for so long. (But it seemed unlikely that Pierro would give him vacation days…) Regardless, your joy was received by him adequately as you peppered his face with kisses.

So now you were here, in your home country. Of course, there were numerous top-tier Fatui agents assigned to you in disguise, always trailing behind with great skill, since Dottore was never going to let you be by yourself. But you didn’t really mind. The past few days had been the most fun you’d had in so long! (If only Dottore could join you. Obviously, he couldn’t in broad daylight… not to mention whatever duties he had.)

As you remember it, each Darshan had set up booths for the Wisdom Gala with a ton of interesting mini-games and other stuff. Though the concept was the same, you were once again realizing how things had changed over the centuries you were asleep… these games were truly novel! You were impressed at the creativity because it was nothing like this when you were a student!

One that was funny was when you were given a mallet… yes a mallet, to hit these little wooden fungi that kept popping up and down in different spots. You were given a question and each of the fungi had a different answer. You had to whack the one with the right answer. Now, figuring out the answer wasn’t the question, but rather hitting them. With your illness, lugging this thing quickly enough to smack them was not an easy task… but it was fun! Hehe, you knew Zandy would have whacked all of them anyway. Ugh, you were really feeling robbed now… the best things always happen in school after you already left.

Though your favorite game was the gear puzzles. You were given multiple gears of different sizes and had to insert them to make all of them eventually turn. You ended up finishing them at record speed, causing a whole swarm of Kshahrewar students around you, begging you to join their Darshan. It was a good thing one of your agents caused a distraction elsewhere for you to swiftly escape… Hmm, maybe you should ask Dottore to make these for you, so you could occupy your mind.

Ahh, not to mention the food… the delicious, authentic Sumerian cuisine that you missed so much. Although some things had naturally changed over four hundred years, it was as yummy as you remembered it. You always packaged some so you could share with Dottore (especially the sweets.) At the end of the day, or when you were tired, you were always escorted back to him. The location was secluded of course, for privacy and safety reasons. Your husband would listen to you ramble about quite literally everything, as you explored Sumeru City thoroughly, not just the festival. Even though he already knew everything you spoke about, he liked seeing your curiosity be indulged in.

But today was different. Today you decided to witness the performances going on in the theater. You had always liked watching them (Columbina often invited you to them) in Snezhnaya, so now you wanted to see what Sumeru had to offer. Four hundred years ago, the Akademiya looked down and shamed the arts far more than they do today. Non-academic writing, drawing, sculpting, acting, singing, dancing, you name it. There was no such thing as the Grand Bazaar or Zubayr Theater. Though you didn’t live here anymore, you were very pleased to see how much the arts were appreciated now, as they should be. Especially that red-haired girl, her dancing was awe-inspiring. You had seen her practice before the performance for a few days, and it was beautiful! If only things were like this when you were a student here…

“Hello there! You’re sitting all the way over here by yourself, are you okay?” A squeaky voice interrupted your reminiscing and you turned to see who it was.

The Traveler and Paimon… It seemed that you were blankly staring at them for too long because the floating one spoke again.

“Um… are you okay?”

“Oh! I’m fine, sorry, sorry, I just spaced out for a second there,” you apologetically waved them off. This was going to be a bit annoying.

A while ago, you had decided to let go. Let go of the pain, of any possible thoughts of revenge, of the sheer grief you suffered from your loss. Because continuing to work yourself up like that would only worsen your illness and mental state. For the most part, you’d been successful, living each day as best you could along with your husband. You still thought about the segments though, always thankful for what they did for you.

But now that the Traveler stood in front of you in flesh and blood, your composure wavered a little. This was the same person who killed Omega. You couldn’t help but feel a twinge of hatred, but you relaxed with a deep breath.

“That’s okay! Well, Paimon is Paimon, and this here is the Traveler. We saw you here by yourself and just wanted to see if you were alright!” The blonde nodded in affirmation.

“Ah, I see. There’s no need to worry about me. My body can’t handle standing for so long, so it’s better for me to sit, even if I’m a bit far away from the stage.” There was no harm in telling them right off the bat because you had a feeling that Paimon’s line of questioning would make you reveal your illness anyway. She talked a lot, according to your fellow Fatuis.

“Huh? Are you injured?”

“No, it’s just my illness. My body struggles to do many things a healthy person would, so I need to be careful.” The pair nodded at you in sympathy.

“Oh… Paimon is sorry about that. That sounds really tough…”

“It’s alright. It’s been like this for many years, so I’ve grown accustomed to it.” The fairy placed her hand on her chest in understanding before she brightened.

“Ah, Paimon has a good idea! Why don’t we keep you company during the performance? You know, we’ve been here loads of times and are even friends with Nilou! We can definitely tell you some cool things!”

“Oh, that sounds… nice.” You smiled at them, not because you liked them, but more because you were interested in their stories about this place. Paimon cheered and the Traveler took a seat near you. It made your skin crawl a bit, but you didn’t show any outward reaction.

“Say, Paimon never asked your name.”

“You can call me [Name].” The only person who knew you in this country was the Dendro Archon, and you doubted they would tell her about you, so there was no point in using another name. Also that was too much work.

“So [Name], is this your first time in Sumeru? We can show you all the best restaurants if you need it!” Ah, so the agents were also accurate when they said she liked food a lot. And the fact the Traveler was silent most of the time.

“No, I used to live here. But, I moved away a long time ago, so this is my first time back in many years.”

“That sounds nice. It must feel good to be back, huh? It’s too bad the Interdarshan Championship isn’t taking place this year. That would have been lots of fun!” Paimon sighed, memories of the last one flowing through her mind. Ah yes, you remember that as well. You and Zandik were never chosen as nominees of course… but it was a fun event to observe. For you at least. Zandik would always go on about how foolish the competitors were, how they couldn’t see how simple the seemingly difficult challenge was. You always laughed at his criticism.

“Mhm, it’s too bad. Maybe I can come back another time to see that.”

“Yeah, you definitely should! Speaking of, did you come here with anyone?”

“Yes, my husband accompanied me here. But he’s working right now, so I’m by myself.”

“Aww, that’s too bad. It must be lonely to enjoy a festival by yourself, huh?”

“Perhaps a little bit, but I do not mind. He’s taken care of me for countless years along with his work duties, it’s more than enough for me to even have the opportunity to experience this festival.”

“Wow, you two really do sound like a loving couple!”

“Hehe, yes… yes, we are,” you had started to smile loopily at the thought of Dottore and ignored the look the Traveler and Paimon gave you. But your attention returned when the stage lights flickered on and the crowd started to simmer down.

“Looks like the performance is starting! Oh, Paimon can’t wait to see what Nilou has in store this time!” You were excited to see it as well.

—

The performances were delightful. The play was well-acted and interesting, and the red-haired girl’s dance at the end was beautiful. Huh… you wish they had more festivals like this in Snezhnaya. Or maybe they did, and you didn’t know about them. You’d have to ask Bina about that when you return.

“That was so, so touching,” Paimon sniffed as the Traveler comforted their friend. You couldn’t help but agree as well. “We have to go say hi to Nilou now!” The Traveler and Paimon rose as you watched them.

“Just stay here [Name], we’ll be back in a few minutes!” You smiled at them as they went off to greet their friend before you quickly dropped your expression. Stay? With them? Nah, you had enough for today. You wanted to go back to Dottore now and bother him to let you cuddle him on his lap. So when they weren’t looking, you slipped out of the theater, and your bodyguards slyly followed, attracting the attention of no one.

Ah, you had a lot of things to say to Dottore now, didn’t you…

—

“Huh? Where did [Name] go?” When the pair returned, you were gone.

“They must have left. I bet it’s because you were asking them so many questions, Paimon,” the Traveler teased her.

“Hey! Paimon was being friendly and they didn’t seem to mind! Anyway, let’s go outside. It’s only been a few minutes, maybe they’re still around.” The pair exited and walked around the city for a bit, but you had already disappeared into thin air.

“Traveler, Paimon! It’s nice to see you again!” A gentle voice called out to them. It was Nahida, who walked up to them with a bright smile on her face. The other two responded in kind.

“Oh, hey Nahida! Long time no see, huh?”

“Yes, it’s been quite a while. You must come over for a bit and tell me about your travels sometime. I guess you’ve been enjoying the Akademiya Extravaganza, right?”

“Yup! Traveler and Paimon enjoyed a lot of fun games and delicious food! And then we went to see some performances at the theater, and now we were looking for someone, but eh, it’s not really important anymore.”

“Hmm? Looking for who?”

“Just someone we met a few hours ago at the theater. Their name is [Name].” The Dendro Archon’s eyes widened at the mention of your name, immediately straightening up.

“[Name]? Did you say [Name]?” The Traveler and Paimon noticed the God’s surprised expression and inquired about it.

“Yeah, do you know them, Nahida?”

“I… I can’t believe it. Do they happen to look like…” Nahida then went off to give a brief description of you, and the Traveler confirmed that you indeed matched her words. Paimon was a bit worried.

“Nahida, why are you asking us this? You’re making it seem like we were talking to a long-lost criminal or something.”

“Well, I suppose that wouldn’t be too far off. This [Name] that you’ve met is… part of the Fatui. But that’s not the big part. They’re the Doctor’s lover.” It was silent for a few seconds before Paimon responded, nearly yelling as the Traveler’s jaw dropped.

“The man [Name] is married to is THE DOCTOR?!”

“Oh, so they’re married now? Last time I heard they weren’t.”

“Nahida, surely you must be mistaken, right? You’re far too casual about this, no one could be dating the Doctor of their own free will!” Nahida was about to respond when yet another voice interrupted.

“She’s not lying.” A familiar voice echoed from somewhere and the group turned to face it. It was the former Sixth Harbinger, standing to the side, braced against the wall. “That [Name] is indeed the partner of Dottore. I met them while I was in the Fatui.”

“Ahh… Paimon’s head hurts…” The Traveler nodded in agreement as they too rubbed their head at this revelation. “But why? Why would they want to be with the Doctor?”

“It’s futile to ask me about their relationship,” the puppet scoffed. “I cannot begin to comprehend how the two of them supposedly love each other. I’ve spoken to them a few times…” the puppet thought back to those encounters in the lab, “but our conversations did little to enlighten me on the nature of their relationship.”

“[Name] and Dottore have a long history together. It’s… complicated, but I’m not lying when I say they’ve been together for centuries. But what concerns me is that if [Name] is here, then the Doctor must be close by as well… and the Fatui too… He wouldn’t let them roam around all by themselves.”

“Oh no! That’s right, [Name] said that their husband accompanied them here. So that means the Doctor is in Sumeru!”

“I see… the Matra would have noticed if a boat of Fatui arrived at the port… so that means the other agents must be well disguised. But nothing has happened lately. Sumeru has been at peace like usual, there’s nothing that the Fatui have been digging their nose into recently. I wonder…” the God of Wisdom began to mumble to herself while Wanderer merely looked on.

“Paimon would have never guessed they were in the Fatui… do you think they were lying about their illness too?”

“No, they are indeed afflicted with a mysterious illness. From what I know, [Name] used to be quite a formidable force four hundred years ago. But their illness gradually sapped their strength away from them, leaving them as they are now… so they have virtually no physical prowess anymore.”

“Oh… that’s quite sad. Wait, but that doesn’t change the fact they’re part of the Fatui, with the Doctor no less! They’re our enemy, no doubt!”

“That’s not to mean [Name] is weak. Although their mind has certainly been ravaged by many things, they possess a strong will. Not to mention, they are the one and only Doctor’s close confidant. I’m sure if pressed, they have some tricks up their sleeves.”

“We have to do something! The Fatui are always up to no good, I bet they have some horrible, evil plan to… to… ruin the Akademiya Extravaganza! We can’t let them do that!” Paimon exclaimed while the Traveler nodded in complete agreement. “Nahida, what’s the plan?”

“The plan is to let them be.”

“H-Huh? Nahida, you’re just going to let them go?”

“That’s correct, Paimon.”

“Lesser Lord Kusanali, are you sure?” Even Wanderer, who usually went along with the God albeit with some moaning and groaning, had an objection.

“The festival has been going on for several days now, and tomorrow is the last day. If the Fatui truly were planning something, it would have been done by now. And to be honest, I suspect that the only reason the Doctor made the trip here was for…” You, Nahida wanted to say, but then decided against it. She wasn’t one hundred percent sure, after all. “Actually, never mind. Don’t worry about it, Traveler, Paimon. But if you happen to see them tomorrow, you could speak to them again. I am admittedly… interested in [Name].”

“Well… alright Nahida. We trust you.”

—

While the group was busy chatting about you, you were making your way back to Dottore. It was already evening, and all you wanted to do was relax in the embrace of your beloved. However today, the Fatui agents were escorting somewhere else rather than your temporary home. Where? The more you walked, the quicker you realized.

The large Ruin Golem in the mountains of Sumeru’s forest.

Seeing it from a distance brought back fond memories for you. You remember the first time you and Zandik entered it. He was incredibly fascinated with it and literally spent hours in it. Of course, you were forced to stay with him and help him with all the research and note-taking. But looking back, it was fun. And you may or may not have kissed him a lot in there, and he was very annoyed at you breaking his focus, but did nothing to stop you.

This same spot, near the Ruin Golem, was also a frequent star-gazing spot. Because he would spend so long there, even until night fell, and you kept insisting it’d be romantic to watch the stars here. He didn’t really agree but… Zandik surprisingly indulged you more than you realized.

Soon, you were much closer to the Ruin Golem and Dottore was in sight, waiting for you. The Fatui agents bowed to you as you dismissed them and made your way over to your husband, who was patiently waiting for you while gazing at the large robot in front of him. You wondered if he had finished his work, for him to be wasting time like this.

(In reality, there was no real mission in Sumeru. The five-day long trip was done to indulge your long-time wishes. Pierro had only let Dottore go on it if he managed to finish at least three-quarters of his paperwork before the trip, and the other quarter during it. So needless to say, Dottore had worked quite hard to acquire this time off, but you didn’t need to know that because then you would feel absolutely terrible and he’d have to deal with your countless apologies.)

“[Name],” he greeted you.

“Zandik!” You immediately hugged him to which he reciprocated and patted your head. “I missed you! Oh, I have so much to tell you. You wouldn’t believe what happened. I met the-”

“Traveler,” Dottore interrupted.

“You know already?”

“Of course. I was notified the moment it happened.”

“Oh.” Well, now that you think about it, that made sense. Of course, Dottore would be aware of everything that happened to you… you were alone, but in a way you weren’t. He still had that overprotective and possessive streak, and rightfully so. He chuckled at your reaction.

“But, I believe your point of view will be far more eye-opening. So please, do tell.” You brightened and immediately began prattling about everything, not before you two laid down on the grass and got comfortable, the same as you did four hundred years ago. Though Dottore wasn’t particularly worried about the Traveler doing anything to you, no, of course, he had planned for this possibility (unlike you) and already had measures in place just in case anything happened.

So the conversation began to move onto softer things. Like you bringing up old memories every five seconds. For example, you two also used to come here frequently to investigate the forest for classes. Zandik usually found these ones boring and was much more interested in Ruin Machines, so you often sped through these boring expeditions in record time so he could do more “fun” things.

“Perhaps we should do that again.”

“Do what? Investigate the biodiversity of Sumeru’s forest?”

“Correct.” You laughed at his words but Dottore looked rather serious about it.

“Isn’t the sun going to set soon? And I thought you weren’t interested in that stuff anymore.”

You were surprised he was doing this, but Dottore had already risen to his feet and stuck out his hand to you expectantly.

“No matter. We can still see, no? And I do believe it will be interesting to see how it has changed over four hundred years.” That was a lie. He didn’t actually care about the plants of the forest. He was only doing it because he knew it was something you would like. And he was right of course, for you smiled happily and took his hand, clasping it tightly.

“Alright then! I’ll lead the way, just like old times,” you puffed your chest out. “Just follow me, Zandik. And you’re taking notes this time! You don’t know what you put my hand through all those years ago!” Dottore only chuckled at your huffing. You were always on note duty because he kept breaking his pens and spilling ink everywhere, much to your dismay.

But regardless, you two spent an evening examining Sumeru’s fauna, the conversation turning surprisingly rather intellectual. But it soon turned quiet as you two ended the night off by gazing at the stars, just like old times.

The stars may be a lie, but sometimes lies are still beautiful.

—

Today was the last day of the Akademiya Extravaganza, and you decided to spend the day enjoying the city one last time. You were set to leave with Dottore this afternoon, so you only had about half a day to do what you needed to do. You didn’t know when you’d be back again, so you wanted to imprint it into your mind, and maybe get a few souvenirs as well. It all went well, you did what you needed to do, bought what you wanted and passed it on to your agents to keep for you, and were actually about to head back to Dottore when you met some familiar faces.

The Traveler and Paimon… again. It seemed like the Gods really did hate you, huh?

“Hey [Name]!” That familiar high-pitched voice waved to you and called out your name… ugh. Just as you were about to go, too. But you pretended otherwise.

“Hello Paimon, Traveler. It is good to see you again. I must apologize for leaving yesterday. I had… matters to attend to,” you apologized.

“Don’t worry about that! Paimon understands.” You smiled back in response and waited to see if the pair would say anything else, but they just… stood there for a few seconds and looked at you.

“Well, if that’s all…” You turned to leave, but Paimon blurted out a strained response unusually quickly.

“Wait! Paimon means, would you like to take a walk with us? Our conversation got cut short yesterday, it would be nice to talk a bit more.” You squinted a bit at Paimon’s expression. It seemed a bit… off. Regardless, you did have some more time to kill, and perhaps they would tell you something of amusement you could relay back to Dottore. So it wasn’t too bad of a decision.

“Alright, that sounds fine,” you nodded in agreement. Paimon had to hold in her sigh of relief. And so the three of you began to walk, taking in the sights of the city. Paimon asked you some more questions, but she seemed a bit… nervous? You weren’t dumb, the more she talked the easier it was to notice. The Traveler was good at keeping a poker face, but Paimon on the other hand, was not. She was nervously looking back and forth between you and the blonde. Which could only mean one thing.

They knew your real identity.

Ah, so they found out. Huh. You weren’t expecting that, but you didn’t care much. They were bound to find out eventually, so long as they kept fighting the Fatui. You didn’t know if they were going to confront you right now or not, but you weren’t going to wait around for it. You knew your Fatui bodyguards were close by somewhere, but you didn’t want them to get hurt by the Traveler, so you stretched your arms out, a signal for them to back away a bit. Because you already had a defense mechanism readied that you didn’t want to affect them. Courtesy of Dottore, of course.

So before Paimon could ask another question, you abruptly stopped. You two had exited the city, so there were no regular civilians around either.

“[Name], why did you-”

“There’s no need to pretend anymore. You know who I am, don’t you?” The looks on their faces gave it all away, and the Traveler instantly put up their guard, which you chuckled at.

“Now now, there’s no need to get all worked up. Surely the ever-righteous Traveler won’t hurt a poor, defenseless soul like me, right?” You simply smiled at them, and Paimon was immediately on the verbal defense.

“Hey! You’re in no position here to be saying stuff like that! The Traveler here has taken out countless Fatui, you’re no different,” the travel guide bluffed. She remembered Nahida’s instructions to let you be, but how could she let you talk to her like that?! “And, and,” she scratched her brain for another warning, “we’ll take you to the Matra for questioning!” Paimon blurted out her best threat, which you only laughed at.

“Oh no, I’m so scared…”

“Hey! We’re not joking! You’re connected with the Doctor, they’ll lock you up!”

“Mhm, you know all of that, don’t you? And yes, I’m well aware of your martial prowess,” you looked directly at the blonde. “The same hands killed Omega, didn’t they?” At the segment’s name, the Traveler stiffened. The look in your eyes wasn’t the same as it was before. It had a carefully veiled sense of loathing that had come up to the surface.

“You know, for years I wondered to myself, how did Omega look like in his last moments? What did he think of? What did he do?” Your voice gradually became a soft whisper. “These questions used to drive me mad, but I don’t think I want to know the answer anymore.” The two were shocked at the clear love and longing you had in your voice for the deceased segment. It wasn’t fake at all.

“But why? Why would you willingly be with someone like the Doctor?” Earlier that day, the Traveler and Paimon had decided to scout Sumeru again in hopes of finding notes that you left behind, and after careful exploration once again, they did. Your notes, however, always had careful logical additions left by Zandik. And then, in response… you’d flirt with him on the note, to which the scholar never responded. The pair didn’t know what to feel or say to that.

“Ah, there it is. The same question I receive every time. But it’s okay. I can understand your confusion. Though if I were to stand here and tell you every reason why, it would make you only more confused. So let me answer your question with the simplest answer of them all. I love Dottore. Dottore loves me. That is the foundation of our relationship.” Unfortunately, that answer seemed to only make the two more confused.

“… It seems that you still do not understand. But that’s okay. It’s not like it matters anyway,” you supposed they were unconvinced a man such as Dottore could love, but you weren’t here to convince them of that. So then you turned to leave before Paimon spoke again.

“Where do you think you’re going? You are coming with Traveler and Paimon!” You let out a sigh at this creature’s persistence. Looks like you’d have to do something.

“You know, I was really hoping I wouldn’t have to use this,” you mumbled under your breath before you retrieved a pill from your pocket and swallowed it, although it was a different color from your regular ones. The Traveler continued to watch on carefully, ready to summon their sword at any second.

“Hmph! Any last words?” Paimon put her hands on her hips as she stared at you. You thoughtfully looked up and began to think, before you came up with something. You despised the Traveler, but a question couldn’t help but linger in your chest. And hey, they’ve helped Childe and Arlecchino in the past, despite nearly being killed by them, right? And that Electro God too. You didn’t know if they were stupid or just too nice. It was worth a shot. And, you didn’t care if you were selfish or not. You were tired of being nice.

“Traveler… may I ask you a favor?”

The Traveler raised their eyebrow, partially offended and shocked you would ever ask them that considering the antagonistic stance you took. That was the last thing they expected, but you took their silence as an opportunity to continue.

“You hop to different worlds, don’t you? Different universes?” The Traveler nodded, unsure of where you were going with this. Your gaze flickered to the floor, eyebrows furrowing before you made up your mind.

“Then, when you leave Teyvat, could you… look for me?” Out of everything that could have come out of your mouth, the Traveler could not have expected that.

“I want to know… I just want to know if there exists a world, where none of this happened. Where I was never sick, where he didn’t have to do all of this to find a cure. I want to know if there’s a world where everything is okay for us.” Your eyes fluttered shut as you spoke, loads of memories flashing through your head about everything you’ve gone through. The Traveler and Paimon remained speechless because they truly did not know what to say, before you cringed at yourself for saying something so stupid.

“Ah, what am I saying? I know you have no sympathy for us, it was dumb to ask,” you waved it off. “Forget it. But I’m afraid I’ve wasted too much time here with you. I have things to attend to.” At that moment, you reached into your pocket and produced a strange device, and before the Traveler could summon their sword, an irregular, headache-inducing sound echoed throughout the area. Instantly, the Traveler knew it was the same sound device Omega had used to put them to sleep all those years ago. But it was too late, as their mind became foggy and their knees buckled to the floor.

“To think that you fell for the same thing twice… that’s kind of embarrassing for you, mighty Traveler,” your laugh was the last thing they heard before they fell into a dream. “It’s a good thing Dottore told me to carry this thing… and made a pill so the effects wouldn’t work on me. Well, bye now.”

—

After rendering those two unconscious, you made your way to the boat you and Dottore were going to leave in. Your agents had caught back up to you and you swore you heard them mumbling about how “cool” you were. It was cute.

You saw your husband standing leisurely on the boat. You guess he had no reason to disguise himself considering he was already about to leave. You immediately smiled and climbed onto the boat with his help.

“I guess you were immediately notified of what happened, weren’t you?” You teased.

“Of course,” he went along with your tone. “I am always aware of what hindrances may plague my spouse.” You hummed in acknowledgment as you watched the Fatui prepare to set off.

“You know, this whole trip, I’ve been thinking something stupid.”

“No thought from you could be stupid. Do tell.”

“I’ve been thinking… that I love you so much that it may begin to physically hurt me when you’re not around.” Dottore seemed amused.

“Is that so?”

“Yes, really! All those times when you left me alone in the lab, I swear I started developing some side effects!” You pouted as Dottore found himself laughing at your pain.

“Well, not to worry. I am a doctor, after all, I know very well how to treat this ailment.” Dottore ran his fingers up and down your neck, leaving behind a tingling sensation.

“Oh, do you? Well, go ahead, doctor. Make me feel better.”

“I would be delighted to but, the treatment is a little… hands-on,” his deep voice made your heart race with excitement.

“Aren’t you the one who always gets mad at me for trying to skip my medicine? I see no reason to hesitate.” You smiled boldly.

“As you wish. But don’t say I didn’t warn you…” Dottore then pressed you against the railing of the boat, holding you down so you wouldn’t tip over, and then began to lean into your lips.

(The Fatui agents kept their heads turned the whole time.)

—

That had happened years before the Traveler defeated the Doctor, and consequently killed you in the process. Sometimes they wonder if things could have turned out differently. Especially since some of the other Harbingers were certainly not pleased with them when they finally fought, namely the Third, but she too eventually met her demise. But what’s done is done.

The Traveler thought that would be the last they ever saw of you and the Doctor, but they were wrong. As one would expect, Dottore was connected with many of the events in Teyvat, and so he popped up here and there again throughout the rest of the Traveler’s journey.

But one thing they did not expect was to see you and Dottore again. Where? The Ley Lines had somehow shown them people from the past, as they once did with the Shogun.

It was… strange. Strange to see the two of you just be normal. Normal people, normal students before it all changed. You, a stark contrast to the person they saw before - energetic, bubbly, handling your weapon with ease as you protected Zandik from any possible danger. Zandik, a lot more grouchy and less suave, morally ambiguous but not quite evil yet. Two people who were alone and found company in each other’s likeness. It created a sort of… understanding for the Traveler. Not forgiveness. Understanding.

So when they finally left Teyvat, they decided to fulfill that favor you had asked them. To find you in another universe. It was also to satisfy a sort of curiosity they had themselves. Would you two truly be happy in another world? They would find out as long as they continued to journey with their sibling. So they traveled and traveled and met many new people, and went on many new adventures, your request lingering in the back of their mind every time they visited a new planet.

Admittedly, it was actually kind of… sad to see your fates in the other universes. In many universes, you died, or he died, leaving the other all alone unable to come to terms with their fate. In some universes, you were ill again. You did not survive. In others the relationship did not last, breaking it off due to numerous reasons out of your or Zandik’s control. And maybe the worst fate of them all… you two never crossed paths. Never able to give the other a chance at love.

If the Traveler had a Mora for every time fate divided you two, they might be as rich as Pantalone. They wondered if your request would ever be finished. So when the Traveler entered the next universe, they weren’t expecting much.

This world was a bit different from the others. It had no supernatural powers, but it had great technology. Things like “internet” and “phones” and “computers.” But they had gotten accustomed to it quickly, as they always had. Right now they were at an outdoor cafe, waiting for their sibling when they heard a familiar voice.

“Ugh, I swear, as soon as the term ends, I will be running to give that guy a scalding rating!” The voice spoke with annoyance and a slam followed soon after, presumably textbooks dumped onto the table. This cafe was frequented by students, so this was no surprise for the Traveler. Cheap, yummy, and a good study spot is what they heard from passersby.

“I told you not to take him,” another grouchy voice replied. “You brought this on yourself.”

“You know that he was my only option! I literally got the last seat in the class,” you whined back, the chairs dragging across the concrete. “Besides, I don’t want to hear that from you when you complain about your professors every single day, Zandik.” That name nearly made the Traveler choke on their drink.

Zandik? Did they hear that right…? They turned around, hoping not to arouse attention, and then their eyes widened as they looked at the pair that just arrived.

They were the spitting image of the [Name] and Dottore from Teyvat, although these people were dressed in different clothes that were normal for this planet. There were a few minor differences that the Traveler only recognized because they were familiar with Teyvat’s version of you, but there was no doubt about it.

These two people were this planet’s version of you and Dottore. But the question was, were you two happy together? The Traveler needed to find out, and this position wasn’t good for spying so they moved to another inconspicuous location.

Zandik only rolled his eyes at your defiant quip before opening his heavy textbook, which you soon followed suit. The friendly banter between the two of you flowed naturally. When the food came, you tried feeding him the piece of cake which Zandik tried shooing your hand away, but had to give in after a while with slightly red cheeks. Your hands occasionally brushed against each other, but neither of you pulled away. Interesting, very interesting. Could this be the universe…?

After you two left the cafe, the Traveler decided to follow. This was probably a bit stalkerish, but they just needed to confirm. (Good thing they had skill in this area.)

In the busy public streets, your shoulders only brushed, but when it became more deserted, you reached out to hold hands with Zandik. He huffed and mumbled something to you, which the blonde could not hear, though you only responded with a laugh as you squeezed his hand tighter. But then your attention was diverted by something else.

“Oh, look there Zandik! Do you see that?” You whisper-yelled, drawing his attention to a tree branch. “It’s a raven and a sparrow! Together! The thing is on top of the other’s head!” You couldn’t contain your amusement. “Isn’t that really strange? Don’t ravens eat sparrows sometimes?”

“Yes, and the sparrow must be rather stupid for allowing itself to get so close to something that can kill it,” Zandik said bluntly.

“That’s not nice,” you poked him for that comment. “Just because they’re different doesn’t mean they can’t be friends. Just like us, Zandik!”

“The world is not that nice, [Name],” he sighed, your optimism causing him great headaches sometimes.

“Yeah, I know thatttt~. But you never know! Hehe, you know, this reminds me of the time a few months back when a butterfly landed on your nose. You looked so cute! Ah, I’m so glad I got a picture.” Zandik immediately scowled, because you set the bloody thing as your wallpaper, so anyone who looked at your phone’s home screen could see the embarrassing moment. Ajax and his wretched finance and theater friends did not let him hear the end of it. Your boyfriend then started walking much faster, dragging you along as you yelped at the increased speed.

“Stop babbling and hurry up, otherwise I’ll leave you behind.”

“Okay, okay! Just slow down!!”

Soon, the two of you reached your newly rented apartment. Both of you had only recently moved out of the dorms, but it had been a lot of fun decorating and growing accustomed to this new life. The Traveler watched as you disappeared into the building, and then noticed your figure again through a window near the upper level. You were cradling an animal, a cat actually, and kissed it gently. Zandik then made his way over, uncharacteristically scratching its chin as well, before saying something to you. (Perhaps scolding you for giving your pet too much attention. A very Zandik way of saying he himself wanted more attention too.) You only shook your head with mirth before pressing a kiss to your lover’s lips, and the two of you moved away from the window, now out of sight.

Well, the Traveler’s job was done now. You and Zandik were happy. Maybe not in Teyvat, maybe not in any other world but… you two were happy in this one. And that was all you wished for.

[Name] and Zandik were happy.

And that’s the perfect ending for a fairy tale, right?

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plottwiststudios · 1 year ago

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Furina Deserved More Empathy

Most of you are here because you dig my writing for "Women of Xal", but please bear with me on this: Furina is a worthy character to study, respect, and love. To me, she is Genshin Impact's best character, and certainly my favorite from the game.

But although her characterization was top tier, the characters and writing around Furina were just... so ugly to her in a few areas that I believe are worth talking about. Even if you think the Fontaine arc was perfect and beyond reproach with how Furina was handled at the end, please at least hear me out. I promise I do come with not only my empathetic insight, but a writer's with a keen eye for the unfair, as well. Everyone, strap in and click that spoiler line for more~

"But Furina is only human, isn't she? Even though she has had a long life, her mind is no stronger than that of any other ordinary human being. I cannot begin to fathom what she has had to endure. It must have been torture for her." - Neuvillette

This quote comes immediately after Neuvillette realizes that his partner in crime, Furina, has been playing a role of a god far outside of her true personality every (perceived) second of every day for 500 years without end. Fooling the world, and keeping the secret that she was a mere human was crucial. If she didn't, her nation would have met oblivion via drowning, according to an increasingly real prophecy. If you don't know the story/why, it's complicated, here's the cutscene. Collaborating with her divine 'half', she commits to this agonizingly long performance willingly by weighing her own happiness with the lives of the people. And does that take a toll on her?

Yes! It got bad enough to where she started crying without realizing she was -- in front of a citizen she of course had to deceive. She had to use her vast experience to play it off, and, well, you see how easily that citizen bought it, and you can see how Furina is handling that situation, even if you're not used to Genshin's models. What I'm trying to get at here is, Furina carried Fontaine's salvation on her back for 500 years. In complete secret and isolation. And as we are playing a video game, we naturally see to the finale of her 500 year performance...

By putting her on trial as a fraud god!

Now, although I felt grimy from the jump about the whole "Trick Furina into her own public trial", the plan itself is legitimately justified from the player / accusing party. She played her role too well, and now her own nation and allies think she's not taking the threat of her nation seriously. (The threat? Ironically the flooding she's trying to prevent) Her peers do know she's hiding something. So in a desperate gambit to get her to talk and hopefully give them something to stop the incoming flood, they trick her into arriving at her own trial. And, I believe my necessity, she is given more trauma for her troubles before this trial ends. You can watch it all here.

Even for players who didn't figure out Furina's big secret, this trial was BRUTAL to watch, and the fact the player character initiated it by trying promising Furina that her secret can be safe with the player -- WHILE the player was actively and secretly transporting Furina to her trial is just... cutthroat. Necessary given the lack of context (mostly), but cutthroat. I'm glad Furina considered her options with entrusting the player, but ultimately would have decided not to. Because we didn't deserve Furina's trust.

Long miserable story short? Furina is judged guilty and sentenced to death, but she doesn't care, because to her, she spent 500 years, only to think she "failed" and now everyone will drown and die. So she's left essentially dissociating with only tears to show consciousness. Longer story short? She didn't fail! Her trial was all part of the plan her divine half cooked up without telling her about the trial! To save the nation. (Prophecies, am I right?) And the nation is saved! All because Furina kept up the act for 500 years -- well past her emotional breaking point. Like, well, well, well past her breaking point.

Most importantly: Furina is free to be a regular human that no longer has to perform. She no longer has to rule as a god. So what's the first thing she hears from us? (Link for the conversation)

tldr: "We sure Kathryn gave us the right address we obtained without permission? Wow, Furina's living situation got a whole lot worse different after she stepped down from ruler."

If you're wondering if I skipped a few cutscenes covering how Furina got there and how she's doing, don't worry! Same here: After the story's climax, Neuvillette tells us that Furina steps down and numbly packed her bags and hecked off for peace and quiet. Did we ever VISIT this woman after asking her to trust us before destroying that request for trust? Did ANYONE besides Neuvillette give her an apology, or go out of their way to check in on her besides Clorinde? Am I supposed to assume that the same writers who keep doing insensitive things, has a staggering fear of dark skin, and seldom have enough courage to trust the audience, are expecting us to fill in the gaps of time with the most positive outcome that Furina was apologized to and supported off-screen? And hey, if you're on team "We had no choice, given the circumstance; no apologies needed", then look at it like a human, not (just) an apologist! If YOU underwent 500 years of never being you, but an exaggerated trope for the world, and at the end, that world temporarily rejects you in public, cutthroat fashion, is this how you would like to be treated?

An organization gave out your address to help the player

The player only visits you to help NPCs

Pressure you to perform yet again, this time for fun!!!

Express how your boundaries for no-acting actively hurt the NPCs

No noted thanks or conversation about your sacrifices

The writer to your life railroads you into feeling bad for boundaries

Someone dryly states, for her own reasons, that you were inactive

Made fun of for your lifestyle decisions post-freedom from acting

The writer of your life railroads you into singing for the NPCs

Some more I am probably going to regret not remembering

Even people who haven't played the game, but read this will note that something went amiss. One or two of these bullet points can be seen as fine or not-horrible when isolated, but literally all of this happened to Furina. Even if you want to say that all of these are properly addressed offscreen and not mentioned in the game, then what about the writer's desire to resonate with the audience?

To the writers of this game who obviously do not take words to heart: We resonate with Furina just fine. She's a beautifully written character and I have nothing but the fiercest of respect for her. But we don't resonate with how she was treated after her 500 years of torture ended. Not by the characters or writers. As writers, how did you WANT us to react to these insensitive scenes? Why? Did you think the lines of dialogue through from a humane angle, or were you stuck in the immediate present of writing a "funny"? Did you think about the cost of not letting the most tortured character in the country have any scenes after her trial until we're looking for her to help people we've never met before? Was the tonal whiplash wise in your eyes? Could you find no better way to get Furina comfortable to sing and get her vision? Why do I get the feeling that even an author with no experience might have known better than to do some of the things you decided to do to Furina? As writers, do you think everything I've stated is what she deserves, or even the natural course of events for a character as important and as good as Furina? Is that the extent of your writing prowess and creativity?

This is a story about a nation of justice. So where's Furina's justice?

#Genshin Impact #Furina #Fontaine #4.2 #neuvillette #At least her fellow Archons properly showed her the respect she deserves

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johnwickb1tsch · 9 months ago

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bittersweet ~ a yandere!John Wick x fem!reader sunshine/grump coffee shop AU... Part 27 all chapters

WARNING: NSFW, SEXUAL CONTENT, YANDERE SH!T. Plz take care. I luv u all. 😘

-“I have a surprise for you.”

Hearing this fills you with what is perhaps a disproportionate amount of trepidation.

However…consider the source.

“Oh?”

“I wasn’t going to give it to you yet, but…I think I’d better.”

You are not sure what to think about this, so you remain silent.

He takes your hand, leading you up the stairs.

As you walk down the hallway you are filled with more and more apprehension, convincing yourself that there is some trick he’s pulling around the corner. He has been disappearing on and off, refusing to tell you where he was going, but vaguely hinting that he was cooking something up for you.

You fear it’s something you don’t want at all, like a red room fully fitted with racks and restraints and hooks hanging from the ceiling. If he frames that as a gift you swear you will pull a Bertha, and burn this personal version of Thornfield Hall to the ground.

You do not like it, when he insists on covering your eyes as he walks you through a door close to your bedroom upstairs. By the time you take three steps into the room you have damn near worked yourself into a lather, a fine trembling running through your limbs.

“Shh, baby, you’re going to like this,” he assures you, which is no real assurance at all.

Five more steps before he stops you, removing his hands with a flourish.

Your heart leaps to your throat.

Floor to ceiling windows let in a flood of morning light to the room. There is a big table, and copious shelves, and…an easel.

You realize he has made you an art studio.

Your feet move forward of their own volition, taking in the various boxes stacked on the table and the shelves. They’re art supplies, and you recognize brand names that you could hardly afford on your barista’s salary. Sennelier. Windsor and Newton pigments, top tier. Fine brushes from France and Germany that cost fifty dollars a piece. Tablets in every size and every tooth of Canson paper.

“Oh. My. God.”

“You…like it?”

He almost sounds vulnerable in that moment, which is entirely ridiculous.

You imagine how you would have reacted, if your relationship had been normal. You would have thrown your arms around his neck, showered him with kisses.

This studio is everything you’ve ever dreamed of having, as an artist.

As it is…he is buying your complacency, if not your love, trying to distract you from your situation with expensive trappings and let’s face it—adult arts and crafts.

It hurts.

And yet, you know you’d better fucking say something, or Mr. Nice Wick is going to flee the scene.

“How did you know?” you ask, fingering a box of brand-new oil pastels. “It’s perfect in every way.”

You are trying your best to sound happy about it, but your throat is tight, and you know he’s going to get mad about it any second now.

He couldn't have surprised you more, if he'd stood on tiptoe and performed a pirouette, as when he simply gathers you into his arms.

“I had help from the owner of the art supply store,” he admits. “Pretty sure they'll be sending me a Christmas card for the rest of my life.”

You laugh at that, settling into the hollow at the base of his throat. It feels so good, just to be held like this. A part of you cautions not to trust it—but most of you is so exhausted from living on edge, you just take the comfort at face value.

“Did you go to Mr. Morton’s shop?” you ask, referring to the local art stop in town. You don’t know why this gives life to a glimmer of hope in you. It’s not like the kind old man would have any reason to suspect you’re here, with John Wick, just because the mysterious newcomer suddenly had a yen to buy out the store of all its art supplies.

“No, I went a little farther afield.”

Almost as though he was covering his tracks.

“Oh.” You cannot conceal the note of disappointment in your tone. “John…” You muster your courage for the next question, hoping you won’t blow the day all to shit, but you suddenly need to know. “Am I a missing person?”

He presses his lips to your forehead, and speaks quietly against your skin. “Technically, no. A friend of mine will ping your passport entry at JFK soon. You’ll tender your resignation with regrets at the coffee house. I’ll have your little apartment cleaned out. You don’t need it anymore.”

He really did think all this through. You digest the details of his Machiavellian plan rather distantly, as though you are on the outside watching from above. He has orchestrated your disappearance masterfully, but also in a way that won’t raise questions with authorities should you happen to resurface in his company. In a twisted way this gives you a sliver of hope, that maybe he doesn’t intend to keep you locked away forever.

A fool’s optimism, perhaps, but at the moment it’s all you have.

“Where’s my phone?”

“At the bottom of the Grand Canal, I’m afraid.”

“That’s littering.”

He just snorts in answer. You find that you regret the fact that all your photos are lost. You never did back them up on the cloud. How strange, that such a record of your life could be erased with the destruction of one electronic device.

Talking about this doesn’t seem to scuttle his mood, so it gives you the courage to ask, “Can I come in here whenever I want?”

You are so hopeful in your request that you sense him war with himself, in the end unable to outright say no. “If you're a good girl,” he qualifies with his lips still on your forehead.

Hiding beneath his chin, you grind your teeth at this caveat, but don't voice aloud any of the pithy comebacks that come to mind.

Then you notice your sketchbook from Italy is sitting on the worktable, along with your custom bound copy of Jane Eyre.

After everything, you’re not sure why seeing it there, knowing it had been in his hands, makes your heart skitter in your chest. He follows your gaze, a dark eyebrow lifting. It is filled with sketches of him from before you met up in Venice. The whole fucking thing is practically a confession of the grinding longing you'd felt for him, in the first couple weeks after you left. You can’t deny it now, but you can choose not to acknowledge it aloud.

He stares you down, clearly hoping for…something. A confession, perhaps, or at least an admission. You feel like a bug under a magnifying glass in the sun, fixed with that gaze. But you hold fast, and in the end he sighs. “I’m going to go clean up breakfast,” he tells you. “Have fun with your new toys.”

He kisses your forehead before quitting the room, and once again you fancy that if one were to squint, you could almost mistake the two of you for a normal couple.

-He actually leaves you to your own devices until darkness begins to fill the trees beyond the window.

By the time he comes to collect you he has changed into a black button down and dark jeans. It suits him to his bare toes, and inwardly you sigh. Why does this devil of a man have to be so goddamned handsome?

“So, what has my little artist made today?”

You are loathe to admit, the answer is nothing.

You opened every box, gazed at the pastels and paints and pencils longingly. And yet with charcoal in hand the fine white paper taunted you, inspiration an illusive thing.

You had no idea what you wanted to draw, or paint, or make. The past week has been so jarring, you would think you would be bursting with something, but all you draw is a blank.

You shrug, curled up in the comfy chair by the easel, your drawing pad open in front of you. He takes the seat opposite, regarding you quizzically.

“You don’t like it in here?”

“I love it,” you assure him, and its no complacent lie. “I just…have been soaking it in.”

“Hmm.”

You can tell that he’s disappointed, and your treacherous heart skips a beat.

You failed to turn on any lights, as the sun is setting. John flicks on a single lamp on the side table, washing his one side in a dramatic glow. It is as though something clicks into place, as you look upon him. Your dark angel, your sinister lover, your obsessive captor, a man you should hate, but you are drawn to him like a moth to the flame.

Perhaps now, he shall also be your muse. Was ever there a man better suited to embody the mysteries of Caravaggian shadow?

“Don’t move,” you say softly, and begin to draw.

#john wick #john wick x reader #john wick x you #john wick x y/n #keanu reeves x reader #yandere john wick #bittersweet john wick imagine #john wick fic

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windvexer · 1 year ago

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the intersection of divination and unintentional spirit contact

Generally I'd say, no - divination (tarot cards, spirit/"ouija" boards, black mirrors, crystal balls, etc etc) in and of itself does not automatically conjure or evoke spirits.

If a spirit is already not in the space where you're performing divination, an act of divination will not spontaneously make spirits appear.

That being said, I have experienced and seen others experience increases in spiritual contact, activity, and awareness after "getting into" divination.

My goal in this post isn't to try to make people fearful of divination (which they should not be) but to try and highlight some of the nuances I've experienced at the intersection of divination and unintentional spirit contact.

Generally, we can divide these experiences into two categories.

There's a specific spirit who is already around, and they'd love an opportunity to chat, and,

"Hey spirit chums, isn't it neat that there's a new practitioner in town who's developing a consistent practice? Let's go over next time divination is open and say hi!"

You'll notice a distinct lack of a third category, "the demons you learned about in your nondenominational Protestant Sunday shool spontaneously appear and your house will one day be featured in a string of Amityville spinoffs."

Of course, not all divination occurs in unintended spirit contact. I'd hazard that a minority of all divinatory attempts end up this way.

So, what kind of specific spirits might already be around, wanting to chat?

I believe (and I'm not so unique in this belief) that spirits are just around us and within things, all the time. A person may have spirits in their home and yard; have spirits attached to family heirlooms; be watched over by ancestors, guides, angels, or protectors; or, in the case of many Seekers, have obtained the attention of various gods or other allies.

When a reader shuffles their tarot cards with the intent to access information they would not be able to have if not for magic, we can conceptualize that the reader is opening a little window and peering into the beyond. If spirits are "beyond," and wandering past the window, they have the ability to wave back and say howdy.

Sometimes - and, in my experience, rarely - these spirits will jut in and "take over" a reading in order to deliver some important message.

Much more often, spirits who push their way into a reading don't have anything important to say at all. They're not there because they're big, powerful, important, or relevant - they're there because it's something to do.

Many random spirits who are already around and like to show up to readings are just curious, don't particularly care about you, and are happy to be very weaselly if it means they get more attention from you. These spirits may be thrilled to claim that they are powerful demons, top-tier angels, faerie kings, your hitherto-unknown familiar spirit, and so forth.

A major giveaway is that they will often not reveal this identity until you specifically ask them if they are a faerie king, or whatever, and they'll agree that they are because to them this is Omegle and it's fun to have you on the hook.

These spirits are easy to get rid of, because they have exactly as much power over you during and after a reading as they had before the reading - which is to say, zero.

If these spirits are already not affecting your life, they will continue to not affect it once the reading is over. The fact that a reading occurred does not "magically" give them power or influence over you.

And again - while a reader worth their salt can intentionally petition helper spirits and ask to receive messages, it is pretty dang uncommon for a person's guides to force their ways into readings. More likely than not, you're dealing with some rando.

Now, all that being said - from time to time, various spirits demand attention and will use a reading as an excuse to get that attention. In my experience, this is a problem often experienced by people who are specifically spirit workers (although it can happen to others).

In circumstances like these, it's not a random curious spirit who's taking the opportunity to chat, nor is it a guide giving advice. Rather, a spirit has figured out that someone nearby can hear it, and it would like to engage your services.

It's not unheard of for a spirit worker (or very spiritually sensitive person) to take home a unique little trinket from the thrift shop, something that just catches their eye, something that makes them feel ways about things, and ignore it, and ignore it, and ignore it...

Until they open up the spirit board to try and do a meditation on the meanings of the runes, and the thrift shop spirit barges in and demands a proper shrine and maybe an offering every now and then.

Again, this isn't summoning, or conjuring, or whatever. The act of divination didn't cause the spirit to appear - it just created an opportunity for a spirit to speak.

The solution to getting rid of such a spirit is often to help it out, or respectfully remove it from the premises, or so on. That's spirit working stuff, and not a facet of divination.

But, what about people who experience an increase in general spiritual activity after readings?

Well, it's a bit like buying a new house and becoming very active in the neighborhood. The neighbors take notice of you. That attention doesn't stop the second the cookout ends and you go back inside.

I'm much less inclined to believe that divination alone will cause you to be an active member in your spiritual neighborhood. But many diviners are witches, pagans, or practitioners. They're not just reading cards, but also practicing spells, praying to gods, and modifying their own spiritual environment.

A witch who is attempting meditations to find their spirit guides, experimenting with full moon rituals, casting spells, and trying to take care of their local environment, should not really be that surprised if spirits start showing up wanting to hang out.

It doesn't mean that witch has special spirit-drawing powers (sorry), and it doesn't mean the runes you bought off Etsy are summoning demons - it means you're integrating with the spiritual reality around you.

Of course, people who don't desire random spirit contact don't have to just deal with it. There is a big difference between throwing a neighborhood bbq where anyone is invited, and having a private cookout for friends in the yard.

Spirits, by and large, often don't bother people who don't want to be bothered. Hang a big no solicitors sign on your spiritual house, and a lot of spirits just won't bother.

Again, I doubt that just reading tarot (even if you do it a lot) is going to suddenly inspire tons of spiritual contact. A lot of people work very hard to get spirits to talk to them. It's usually not as easy as coming into contact with spiritual tools.

Even direct divination that actively seeks contact with spirits (like, trying to channel someone's ancestors for them) often does not bring the spirit into the space - it's more like a two-way phone call. It doesn't actually bring the spirit to where you are and then set it loose.

Anyway. Unintended spirit contact while using divinatory tools does happen, but it's... usually not a big deal. It's often the equivalent of someone walking past your picnic at the park and saying, "some weather we're having!"

And in the random instances I've encountered where the spirit contact is actually a Situation, nine times out of ten, the spirit just wants a spirit worker to help them with someone so they can get on with their life.

#spirit work #divination #tbl

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cillyscribbles · 8 months ago

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munkuposting (metastrap?) for the jellinclined (i am so sorry)

you tell me i'm insane but i know my truth and my truth is that munkustrap wants to help her. he wants to reach out and help her up like he just helped jennyanydots during her song. he leans down and it's not just so he can look at her better. it's not just cause there's no point to his defensive stance here except for her to see, for him to communicate she's unwanted, and he knows it. shit dude the guy can't look her in the eyes for longer than 5 seconds.

like come on. munkustrap's running after old deuteronomy and the rest of the older/less agile cats so much in this goddamn film he might as well be Munkustrap the Mobility Aid Cat. man knows what he wants in life and that's going on as many walks with senior citizens hanging off his arm as physically possible and neither god nor the heaviside layer will stand in his way.

his responsibility's a whole different thing, though. look at the lad puffing up when grizabella shows up. that's a guard he uses against perceived threats like macavity and it's well and warranted then, but what in the name of ye olde cat gods is the old lady gonna do? garbage stink them all to death? it's performative as hell on purpose. both of them know she's not gonna jump him and he doesn't need to protect himself or his fellow cats from her physically.

in the macavity scares, odd as it might look on a person, The MunkuStance™ is a genuine threat. he's up above everyone else or he's one of the few cats on the stage, he's spreading himself out to look bigger, he HISSES lmao.

look at the lad. hissssss lmao i love him.

not only is he saying i won't hesitate bitch he's also establishing himself as The Guy You Fight. if you're an outsider looking in, you're probably not gonna notice Mr Mistoffelees Scampering Through The Pipes Again, but you sure as hell are gonna see the Snarling Tabby Fresh From Hell hopping around in the middle of the stage with his legs 16 kilometers apart at all times. and okay, doing that for the entire musical sure is a Choice, but it's a Character Choice, and mr michael gruber the man you are. the star that you are. i want to send him flowers and chocolate and a card. i would greatly like to do that.

with grizabella though? jesus christ she's about as threatening as a patchy sock. it's not even his first instinct to go Tall Big Puffy when he's trailing after her because there's genuinely nothing to defend against there.

he just sort of slowly stands into it as though he's forgotten he was supposed to be Protecting for a second. the stance, the threat, all that's only there to set a dynamic. it's there to say you're not one of us, we don't like you, please go away, but he's half-assing it so much it loses all its i won't hesitate bitch and turns into i have never hesitated so hard in my entire life. he still establishes himself as The Guy You Fight, but it's obvious grizabella isn't about to fight anyone, so now he's just The Guy She's Staring In Incredulous Longing At, and he can't even hold her gaze for long enough to pretend it's not getting to him because at his core he's not a bad person and he knows that all this is kind of a Dick Move.

this is what makes munkustrap so dummy god tier as a character to me. he may wish he could help grizabella. hell he may even want her back, if not as openly as old deuteronomy does. when all the cats scuttle away and turn their backs to grizabella before memory reprise, munkustrap never even fucking bothers ?? like he's straight up just watching her, and then later watching old deuteronomy watch her like with the most somber wee eyebrows up so can we finally do something about this expression i've ever seen on a performer lmao.

but that means nothing without the approval of the entire tribe! absolutely nothing! because munkustrap, in that regard, is exactly like old deuteronomy: what he wants comes second to what the jellicles want. it's harder to see in him because old deuteronomy is mostly up on the tire being cat jesus and munkustrap mingles with the rest of the ensemble way more, but it's really obvious when you look. they defer to his leadership, but he defers to their collective decisions.

he moves mistoffelees away from grizabella (just like the rest of the older cats) because mistoffelees doesn't know any better and grizabella is untouchable, but then he stalls and waits when demeter reaches out to her. like, i'm pretty sure he would've just let her touch grizabella right then and there. had demeter been a little less aware of the fact that this was the first 30 minutes of the musical, i'm pretty sure she would've just taken grizabella back in right then and there and memory wouldn't have even been necessary. munkustrap sure wasn't about to do shit about it.

he's actively leaning back to give her space!! (i know logistically that it's mr michael giving an opening for ms aeva to execute her Conflicted Scuttle Away but munkustrap is still leaning back however you put it so i'm right automatically. haw yee)

i'm fascinated by it specifically because this way it's almost as though munkustrap is an extension of the jellicle collective, if that makes sense. obviously he's the narrator so we can't give him a complex emotional storyline if we want to keep the aryas in single digits, but in turn this means that now he's a character who chooses to forgo his own feelings in favour of those of his community, and that's just, man, that's just. man. ca(s)t of all time for real. a guardian and a weapon and a storyteller and a teacher and not one of those for his own sake. Man.

tl;dr, old deuteronomy can be hella proud of his kid, and i can eventually stop crying. also here are the gifs of him finally getting to comfort grizabella a little. experience emotions with me.

unfortunately i have similar (if slightly less rambling) thoughts on tugger and why he's constantly being such a massive cunt to grizabella lmao. if you guys are unfortunate enough i may subject myself to the giffing and writing of that post too. toodlepip ✌️

#jellicle cats #cats 1998 #cats the musical #munkustrap #grizabella #because lets be honest this isnt much in terms of art or writing lmao #woe. long post be upon ye #but tumblr usually shortens these one these days anyway

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sleeptokenpuppy · 1 month ago

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there is Himbo Token Discussion on my dash rn and i would like to propose A Theory

the collective shares a delightfully small pool of brain cells, you see. what happens when each of them do or don't have custody of the brain cells, just purely on their vibes:

vessel w/brain cells: songwriting genius of the century, channeling the wisdom of the anicents, could have half a dozen phds! brilliant beautiful mind so full of knowledge and wisdom and art!!

vessel w/o brain cells: usually this is where he gets Silly, just the goofiest fucking goober you ever did see. unless the brain cell has been pushed out by Sad, in which case he is the saddest little raincloud in the whole sky. pls hug him, hug him now or suffer sleep's wrath.

ii w/brain cells: songwriting genius mode, writing and perfecting his drum parts, encyclopedia brain, can and will infodump for hours especially about technical music stuff or nerd media!

ii w/o brain cells: like a cat zeroed in on a laser pointer. exactly One Thought in his pretty lil head, and that is whatever he is focused on

ii has god tier muscle memory for his drum parts and focuses intensely when performing so it's hardest to tell w/him whether or not the brain cells are with him

iii w/brain cells: on stage, he has the crowd in the palm of his hand. master crafter of vibes. can and will channel that slasher energy that tumblr has assigned him. off stage, the most voracious reader you ever did see. researching music gear, reading interviews, flying through notoriously hard to get through books.

iii w/o brain cells: compelled purely by instinct and chaos. dancing and/or messing with ppl. could put jackass to shame all on his own. impulse control? never met her.

iv w/brain cells: fast learner, especially on guitar. king of breaking things down into easier explanations. excited to display and share knowledge! also makes himself irresistible on purpose. -5 to your will save against kissing him.

iv w/o brain cells: absolute peak of no thoughts head empty. texts only in emojis. sweet baby angel. cutie pie. just wants to be loved. also, he's a ho! absolute slut.

even distribution of brain cells when they need to craft The Sleep Token Vibe. photoshoots, performances, in the studio, etc. some brain cells slide around on stage moment to moment but it generally stays pretty even.

espera have their own separate brain cell pool made from goddess energy, beautiful harmonies, and occasional mischief.

i think @polteergeistt and @tonguetyd in particular need to see this but like. ye have fun.

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ofc-vi-writes-too · 4 months ago

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Batfam members and what they’d get cancelled for/their apology

Just watched ItalianBach’s youtuber apology tier list video and inspiration STRUCK.

𖦹𖦹𖦹𖦹𖦹𖦹𖦹𖦹𖦹𖦹𖦹𖦹𖦹𖦹𖦹𖦹𖦹𖦹𖦹𖦹𖦹𖦹𖦹𖦹𖦹𖦹𖦹𖦹𖦹𖦹𖦹𖦹𖦹

Bruce: there are SOOOOOO many things. So so so many things. He has been cancelled so many times that there is a blog dedicated to keeping track of BW apologies. the user is probs something like bruceissosorryagain. Personal favorite was when he ruined a pretty popular and well liked socialite by knocking over a champagne tower directly onto her great grandmother’s wedding gown. For some god foresaken reason the champagne had been dyed red to match the victorian vampire aesthetic of the wedding?? The hashtag “BWmeetscarrie” will forever haunt wayne manor.

Dick: He was literally a cop in 2020. his goose was GOT. He was trying to prove that not all cops are bad by posting to that macklemore song with the little black fist painted on his cheek and BLM on the other. u know the one. It didn’t go over very well. Even macklemore commented “c’mon bro..” This was followed by a 45 minute long apology video explaining how he now understands the harm it can cause to lump all marginalized groups into one category and how he regrets his action severely and yada yada yada hes so sorry, at the end there was a 2 minute long acrobatic performance to the song Nina Cried Power by Hozier. He also donated to several black charities following the whole ordeal. Didn’t leave his house for a week.

Jason: Ran a rage bait account on tiktok when he was like 13-15 where he posted cringe alpha sigma male mogging content, and someone somehow found out it was him, and his apology wasn’t so much an apology as much as it was “I’m sorry you were stupid enough to believe the bs I was posting, and I’m sorry i got caught. Fuck you guys btw now I have to find a new hobby 👎🏽.” The videos are still saved to his phone when he needs a good chuckle.

Tim: Said BTS was ass and BP was even worse (he tweeted it out of boredom, knowing it was gonna be bad, but not knowing exactly how bad). Armies and blinks tried to dox him MUTIPLE times but tim keeps it on lock so his info was safe. There was a boycott for WE so Bruce made him post and official apology. It was half assed and there are kpop accounts to this day that say “Fuck tim drake” in their bio. Either that or he got “cancelled” on some Jynxzi stuff. Like the whole situation to a T. Maybe both are true. He also had a ukelele in his apology vid.

Damian: called an old lady a “stupid ugly stinky bitch” on national television because she “asked father too many questions.” (it was an interview) Jaws were dropped. Nay, jaws were dislocated. Damian was too young at the time to have social media, let alone post his own apology, so bruce did it for him and sent that poor old lady a lot of cash.

Duke: Unironically said “if it’s snowing I’m not going.” the dudebros thought that shit was hilarious. No one else laughed. Duke was serious, but he felt so bad about offending people that there were tears in the apology. At least thats the story he’s currently running with.

Cass: A video of her saying the F slur surfaced. Her apology was her coming out.

Steph: Said something offensive without realizing it and didnt know what she did until she tweeted saying “why is everyone being so wierd around me?? did I do something wrong??” everyones response is either “girl please bffr” or genuine actually helpful input. She apologized less than a day later in a quick and concise apology vid.

Barbara: compared herself to marsha P johnson in an interview and when she was asked to elaborate she simply could not. The truth is, she had no idea who that woman was other than the fact that she was a good, cool woman so she was like yea omg im so her. Her apology was also a mini documentary about Marsha P Johnsons life.

#ooc?#i think some of these count as ooc #i think some are canon #you pick #batfam #ofc vi writes too #bruce waybe #dick grayson #jason todd #tim drake #damian wayne #duke thomas #cassandra cain #stephanie brown #barbara gordon #cancelled #apology video #headcanon

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sergeifyodorov · 2 years ago

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would you actually be willing to give like a pretty long rundown of those main guys from the 2015 draft class?? because i would be Very interested

Of course! I wrote this in a Google doc so I could get it all down. It's a LOT btw -- this is the abridged version, leaving out what are probably important details, and it's still [checks] 11k words long. Sorry about that.

Anyone who tells you that the draft is a science is an idiot not worth their twenty-dollar stadium beer. The draft has analytical elements, sure, but it is a crapshoot through and through. If you dare to take a look back on draft histories from the past ten years -- the past twenty, the past thirty -- only rarely is the first pick, the “best in show,” actually the best of his class. I mean, no wonder, right? How well can you determine how good a man is going to be at hockey when you have only seen him as a teenager? Accuracy and prophecy are not kin.

Every ten years, though, you come across someone whose trajectory is easy to map. A prospect who is so head and shoulders above everyone else -- in numbers, in the eye test -- that you cannot help but say that they are going to be The Next One. God save the poor boy you put that name on.

In this case, it is 2014, and they are speaking those words again. On the dingy ice of an OHL arena, a red-haired Toronto boy with scared fawn’s eyes paces around the circles, faster than anyone else in the building. There are articles written about him already, calling his experience the torture test and labelling him Jesus, the saviour, the new great. It will get worse for him from here.

A Generational Prospect

It is 2004, and all eyes are on Sidney Crosby. He has eclipsed QMJHL scoring records. He performs highlight-reel antics. It is known that he will make the NHL as a teenager, and that whichever team has him will have an asset they should not ever think to relinquish.

Now, in 2023, all expectations of him are blown away. He is fifteenth on the all-time scoring list, having played most of his life in the dead-puck era, and will be inside the top ten by the time he retires. He has never been below a point per game, having gotten to a hundred points as an eighteen-year-old rookie and only slowed down to ninety at thirty-five. He has won three Cups; two Harts; two each Art Ross and Rocket Richard.

Something similar can be said for his contemporary, one Alex Ovechkin, sixteenth in all-time scoring, second ever in goals. While neither were always the most singular, dominant player of the past eighteen years (has it really been that long?) their longevity and consistent high-level play have cemented them into that tier of all-time greats.

Such players only emerge once (or, for them, twice) in a generation; a “generational talent.” Gordie Howe was the first, before drafting happened at all, then Gretzky, joined as a part of the WHA merger, then Lemieux, then, debatably, Jagr through the early half of the dead-puck era, then Crosby and Ovechkin. Jagr was drafted fifth overall partly due to political constraints (it was 1990, and Czechia was behind the Iron Curtain), but all of the other drafted ones went first. While development curves for everyone else are hard to map, it is easy to tell, for them, how good they are as youths. We all call Gretzky the “Great One,” but he actually got that nickname before he was a teenager, because of how much better than the rest of his peers he was.

This is how we go up to the 2015 draft. Let’s say that it is September 2014, a full hockey season before the draft, so we can set the scene. Go back to the dingy Erie rink, watch the red-haired boy speed around the ice.

This is Connor McDavid. He was born in January just outside Toronto; if you are unfamiliar with the term “GTA,” I will pause now to tell you that it means Greater Toronto Area, and that it is the nexus of all hockey in the world. He is a Leafs fan, as so many of the GTA hockey-playing hopefuls are.

Connor is an unusual child, even by young hockey prospect standards. Entry to any of the CHL major junior leagues -- the OHL, the WHL, the QMJHL -- starts at sixteen, but select few can apply early, and if they are academically, physically, and emotionally deemed adept they can be accepted for exceptional status and join at fifteen. This happens once every two or three years nowadays; Tavares and Ekblad were the only ones to predate McDavid. As well as being deemed exceptional by the board of the CHL, he is exceptional among peers, too: intelligent and analytical, black-and-white, painfully shy. He works hard in school, desperate to avoid coming off as a “dumb jock.” Media interviewers ask for him, but they have to change the settings on their microphones in order to pick up his voice, it is so soft.

He has already won trophies; scholastic achievement, sportsmanlike behaviour, CHL rookie of the year. He will score at least one point in all but one of the first eighteen games of the 2014-15 OHL season, before breaking his hand in a fight (getting himself a Gordie Howe hatty, being that he already has a goal and an assist). He will score a hundred points in thirty-eight games, and a hundred and twenty points in the forty-seven games he will play.

Understandably, his name is penned in at number one on the draft board. Even such deficits as breaking a hand and being out for six weeks don’t tank his stock, it is so obvious how well on track he is to outpace all but the best.

He is sweet and shy, a captain of Erie based mostly on skill, and tight-laced into the destiny of future franchise saviour.

At least he has a friend, though, right?

Dylan

The 2014-15 Erie Otters are a good team. A great one, even -- third in league standings by season’s end, and you don’t get that far if your single generational superstar is sidelined half the year with a hand injury.

This is where Dylan comes in. Like Connor, he’s a GTA boy, and a young Leafs fan. Unlike Connor, he’s part of a serious hockey family -- the middle child of three. His older brother Ryan has already been drafted, in the first round, no less. He’s a real student of the game, too, a stats obsessive and a calm, steadfast personality.

Remember how we said the draft is a crapshoot? That’s very true. Prospects may have precise rankings when all is said and done, but in the meantime I find it best thinking of them as instead arranging into tiers -- there’s the generational talent in this year, but disregarding him we have a first overall-level, then a small handful of top prospects. Not saviours in their entirety, but certain to make a team very happy. Dylan projects as the latter group -- he’ll be somewhere between three and five. In 2014-15, he’s the OHL scoring leader, and takes the Erie Otters’ single-season record.

He and Connor are also best friends. Connor’s quiet, anxious even, but Dylan has a coolheaded sort of confidence that brings out the best in him. Rarely are they pictured without each other; rarely are they spoken to without mentioning the other. There’s a sweet little video out there of the Otters going to New York state and going on this little ziplining/outdoor climbing gym, and Connor and Dylan are about as glued to each other’s sides as you can be while obeying the harness safety rules. In hockey terms, while a little young for it, they’re married. Much like Crosby and Malkin are, although over a much shorter term, and publically the two Otters are much closer.

Dylan is the one I feel as if I can talk the least about. He is mostly defined by what he is not: not Connor, to start, and before the actual draft takes place that is the most of it.

Of course, that’s the most of what any of it is, isn’t it? These are teenagers, separated into imprecise tiers and mostly defined by which tier they slot into. The three boys below Connor, no matter how good they are, are defined by being not Connor.

Jack Eichel most of all.

Jack, to start, is American, unlike any of the other three. He’s a late birthday -- born in November of 1996 instead of the first eight and a half months of 1997 -- so he’s, in theory, had another year to adapt. (Brief footnote: the September 15 cutoff is what determines draft eligibility, either the year you turn eighteen or the year you turn nineteen. If you were born in, say, June of 2000, you would be eligible for the draft in 2018. If you had the audacity to be born in October of 2000 instead, you’d have to wait until 2019.) His development pipeline is also unlike the others, having come up into the NCAA, college hockey, and playing at the US National Development team before committing to Boston University. He won the Hobey Baker award as a freshman, and led the NCAA in scoring as a rookie.

He was marketed, coming into the draft, as the American Connor -- the new face of American hockey, a homegrown star, a fellow generational talent, although that was a feeble marketing strategy to dull the disappointment of going second to greatness. He was proud and polite, quiet but not scared, a young man uncomfortably aware of his own myth and rather irritated at the fact he had a myth in the first place. Taken in and treated well, he would probably have a well-suited disposition to a high-stress, playoff-bound team.

It’s unfortunate that that wouldn’t realize until eight years after he was drafted.

The Draft Itself, or, What Caused All These Problems In The First Place

The draft lottery rolls around. The lottery and the draft take place on different days -- the lottery several weeks before, so that for a long time the boys have an idea of to whom they will go. The first four teams to pick are, in order:

Edmonton. Edmonton had been very bad, for a very long time, and had three shiny prizes already to show for it: Taylor Hall, drafted first overall in 2010; Nail Yakupov, drafted first overall in 2012; and Ryan Nugent-Hopkins, drafted first overall in 2013. I’m sure you already know this, but Edmonton was Gretzky’s team, while Gretzky won all his cups, and they now stand to get themselves another generational talent in Connor McDavid.

Buffalo. The Sabres have a few decent pieces: Ryan O’Reilly, Sam Reinhart. They haven’t made the playoffs in a few years, and have plummeted to the bottom of the standings, finishing thirtieth out of thirty.

Arizona. Arizona has never gotten off the ground, not once. They are a dust mote of a franchise, held in place by Gary Bettman’s fragile ego and the skimmings of Original Six markets. Their survival, as doomed as we know it is, is banking on a distant hope of good prospect luck and better PDO.

Toronto. While Arizona is the smallest of small markets, Toronto is… well, it’s Toronto. Remember earlier, how I said that the GTA is the nexus of hockey? Toronto is called the Centre of the Universe, and for good goddamn reason. The Leafs are one of the most storied franchises in the NHL, and simultaneously one of the winningest (the second-most Stanley Cups, after Montreal) and the losingest (their most recent Cup was almost sixty years ago.) Their fanbase dwarfs all but the most hardcore of French Canadian separatist contingents. There’s a common phrase now, when any hockey news is mentioned -- but how does this affect the Leafs? It’s well-done satire.

And with four teams, we have four boys. So I come upon the last one now: Mitch Marner. Mitch, like Dylan and Connor, is a GTA boy, a born and raised Leafs fan on an OHL team. He plays for the London Knights -- a diminutive forward (he weighs in at 160 pounds soaking wet at eighteen, and eight years later barely cracks 180) with fantastic playmaking skills, the creativity and gall to do things other players have never even thought of. He’s a sweet one, too, bubbly and energetic and cuddly and kind.

Here is how the draft goes:

The Oilers take the stage first, for the fourth time in six years. The ceremony is unnecessary. Connor McDavid is the name everyone knows they will say. Connor walks up to the stage, looking vaguely nauseous, and dons the jersey and the hat. (His facial expression in the interviews afterward is thoroughly dissected over the next eight years. Some say it’s simple stage fright; others say it’s personal distaste for the Oilers -- remember, Toronto boy, Toronto heart. I choose to believe it’s the first one. Not all of us are John Tavares.)

After a first-round prospect is chosen, they bring him down for an interview, then shuffle him off to some arena underbelly for photos upon photos. Connor performs his niceties, but before he is taken back, he asks to stay. He wants to watch Dylan get drafted.

The Buffalo Sabres come second, and pick Jack Eichel. Eichel is asked, throughout, how he feels about Connor, being behind Connor, coming second to Connor. The narrative being pushed is called McEichel -- the Canadian wunderkind versus the American one -- and he wants no part in it. He’s impressed by Connor’s play, in their few brief meetings he thinks of him as nice enough, he wants to carve out his own path.

This refusal to play along may have been the start of the discontent, in hindsight. The media clearly wasn’t going to get anything out of soft-voiced scared-eyed perfect Canadian boy Connor, but Jack, sharper edges and colder heart, might be good for a soundbite or two about this new league-made rivalry. Jack, though, ever aware, puts himself solidly into Generic Hockey Interview voice and backs off.

The Coyotes come third. Here is where a choice occurs, the first genuine decision. Connor McDavid had been slotted into first pick since the day he got accepted for exceptional status. Eichel had taken a few years more, but his place in second after Connor was well known for months on end. Dylan and Mitch, however, were up in the air. Do you pick the big one with more points, or the small one with star power?

The Coyotes follow the conventional hockey wisdom, and take the big boy. Connor waits to watch his friend take the jersey, then hugs him in the wings.

Finally, the Leafs.

Let’s actually take a step back to talk about the Leafs rebuild, for a second, because it, like everything the Leafs have ever done, is a testament to failure. Also, somewhat, because it is relevant. Also, moreso, because I can’t shut up about hockey and you’ve asked me to talk as long as I like. If you’re still reading, I want you to know that a) I am ever thankful for your time and b) we’re, like, just getting started here.

The Leafs’ last contending era was before the 04-05 lockout season, which means it predates the salary cap. They struggled in the midsection, for a long time, then finally fell enough to gain the fifth overall pick in 2008, with which they selected a big tough young defenceman named Luke Schenn, the first official piece of the Leafs’ rebuild, strange as it may be. Luke, while competent enough, was obviously not the sort of franchise-changing star the Leafs needed, and they struggled in the midsection again, before gaining, once more, the fifth overall pick, with which they selected Schenn’s partner, one Morgan Rielly. The two would be perfect partners, but we won’t know this for eleven years. Luke was traded twelve hours after Rielly’s draft.

Rielly is still in the AHL the next year, 2013, when the Leafs make the playoffs. This is the infamous 4-1 series: the Leafs go down 3-1 in the series, claw their way back up to game seven. They gain a 4-1 lead, going into the third period, and then blow it completely and lose the game, and the series, in overtime. They do not make the playoffs in 2013-14, and before the 2014-15 season begins they change management. The man they install as President decides to tank, and tank hard, selling as much of the Leafs as he can in the hopes of landing that elusive first pick.

They end up with fourth overall, and Mike Babcock, the Leafs’ head coach, does not want Mitch Marner, instead asking the then-management for the bigger defenceman, a boy named Hanifin who will go fifth to the Hurricanes. The Leafs take Marner anyway. Watch him as his name is called. He, like the first three, sits in a nest of other prospects and their families -- Mitch actually sits right behind Jack Eichel -- but unlike them, when his name is called the other prospects lean over to offer him congratulations, as well as his parents and brother. Mat Barzal, from across the aisle, offers a bro-hug as Mitch goes by.

The rest of the draft goes as usual. The 2015 draft, beyond narratively, is one of the deepest drafts in recent memory; players you may recognize include Timo Meier, Mikko Rantanen, Travis Konecny, Sebastian Aho (the Carolina one!), Roope Hintz, Kirill Kaprizov, Troy Terry… the list goes on. These players have their own stories, but few really tie in to this one. (So far.)

Summer passes; we move on. Training camp rolls around.

Connor McDavid, as expected, makes the team. He moves in with Taylor Hall, a fellow first overall. Jack Eichel also makes the team.

Dylan and Mitch do not. Dylan’s reasons are unknown to me, but Mitch is sent down because, again, Babcock does not want him. He’s naturally undersized and does not have a frame that builds muscle; Babcock is not under the impression that young men in Mitch’s image make good hockey players. Both Mitch and Dylan are returned to the OHL.

The stage is set now; each boy has a team. Eight years on, only half of them are on those teams. But we can’t worry about that yet! We have to make it to the NHL first!

World Juniors and the Memorial Cup

Once Connor makes the Oilers, Dylan Strome is named captain of the Erie Otters. Very cool, to only get what you deserve after the golden boy is gone.

Jack and Connor are off playing with the big boys. They’ll get their own section later -- we have to work our way up, not up and down and up and down. I’ve got to be somewhat cohesive, you know? So, we’ll stay, for now, in the world of junior hockey.

The Otters and the London Knights, Mitch’s team, are in the wonderful circumstance of not only both being very good at the same time, but also being in the same division as one another. This means they see each other quite often (no plane travel in the OHL. Bus only.) and have thus formed… a bit of a rivalry. It is becoming difficult to dance around: Dylan Strome, despite the politeness they’ve shown each other at the draft, hates Mitch Marner.

And why wouldn’t you? He’s the one Dylan fought with all last season for the OHL scoring title; he’s fast on his feet and can shoot from impossible angles; he makes plays you’ve never even considered, much less considered possible. He dangles through the Otters and scores the easiest impossible goal you’ve ever seen and laughs as light as air about the whole thing. And he’s tiny. Unfortunately for the rest of us, Marner drew a lot of comparisons to Patrick Kane in his junior days -- thankfully without the character in common, but as a hockey player. An undersized (almost comically so) London winger with otherworldly ability to manifest scoring chances out of nothing. The exact sort of irritating worm that not one of us wants on the other team.

So, of course, they get put on the same team.

The 2016 World Juniors are summoned. Connor McDavid, then dealing with a broken collarbone and a great deal of pressure, is not on Team Canada’s roster. Dylan Strome and Mitch Marner both are. Suddenly and thankfully, the media’s focus shifts from one, false rivalry in McEichel to a very very real one.

I don’t want to dismiss what happens next as a mere symptom of the fact that hockey players are engineered to get along with their teammates, even if they don’t like each other. Admittedly, it does start that way -- Mitch is a winger and Dylan a centre, and both skilled, so the coach puts them on the same line. Simple enough. And then they spark up a friendship.

Dylan’s reasons for hating Mitch were not personal, just hockey-related. Dylan hated Mitch because he was good and he knew it, the simple way a teenager hates their direct competitor. On the same team, though, the competition aspect is removed, and the barrier for hatred is gone. This is the Dylan/Mitch enemies to lovers arc, if you want to put it that way.

Mitch, for the record, I doubt ever hated Dylan. He doesn’t have that in him, never had. He saw a rival, sure, and as soon as that rival wore a matching jersey I assume he taped the word friend over whatever defined their relationship before. Mitch is probably one of the most gregarious, friendly, charming hockey players out there. Beyond his cute little face and on-ice highlights, even. He’s loud, sure, but when he talks he knows how to include you. He finds out what you like and talks about it, he singles you out if you’re shy and builds up your confidence. He’s just plain nice.

Dylan, like the rest of us, was charmed. Within weeks he went from calling Mitch annoying to telling us all about how he loves cuddling (!?) with him. They became fast friends and great linemates.

Dylan’s not the only one Mitch Marner befriends at Worlds, though. Somewhere between matches, Mitch takes an elevator at the complex they’re staying at, and ends up sharing it with a boy from the American team, a tall square-jawed Mexican centre with a Justin Bieber obsession. This is Auston Matthews, one of the projected top picks of the 2016 draft -- born just two days after the cutoff that would have made him eligible to go in 2015. He played with Jack Eichel at the USNTDP, before taking his age-eighteen year to go play pro in Switzerland. He holds the NTDP scoring record as a seventeen-year-old, and will continue to hold it until Jack Hughes breaks onto the scene. The two boys in the elevator do not yet know it, but they are about to share the mantle of franchise saviour, for the franchise most desperately in need of saving.

Either way. The Canadians place sixth at World Juniors, the Americans do better, the Finns win the whole thing. (In the long run, Laine turns out not to be better than Matthews after all.) Mitch and Dylan go back to their OHL teams.

Erie and London tie in points that year, but London wins the OHL title and goes to Alberta for the Memorial Cup, the CHL trophy. Mitch Marner takes home the scoring title, the Stafford Smythe (CHL equivalent of the Conn Smythe), and the Memorial Cup itself. He is one of the most decorated winners in OHL history, touted as being clutch, creating magic, and racking up points. He has close friends in Dylan Strome and fellow Knight Matthew Tkachuk, who will be selected sixth overall in the 2016 draft, the second American after Auston Matthews himself. And when NHL training camp rolls around in the fall, even Babcock cannot deny he is ready, no matter how slight he may still be.

Connor Complex

There’s nothing that fuels story like a good rivalry, and the NHL was obsessed with marketing this rivalry. The Canadian versus the American. The perfect child of a long line of red-blooded southern Ontario tradition versus the Boston boy with a chip on his shoulder. Jack and Connor, Connor and Jack. They hyped Jack up the time leading up to the draft, trying to hint that he was almost as good -- no, just as good -- as McDavid himself.

He was not, and everyone knew.

The 2014-15 Sabres, then the worst team in the NHL and having done an elite job at tanking (they are one of the worst teams in the analytics era, besides the 2022-23 Anaheim Ducks -- I wonder what prize might be waiting at that number one spot? Surely not someone named Connor.) wanted McDavid. The Pegulas, the owners of the Sabres, tried to hide their disappointment in him as pride. They had an all-American star, they said, someone who had grown up not too far from Buffalo himself, and in the same country, no less. He would be the sort of man to lead them into a new golden age, away from the misery of the tank years.

And yet the narrative persisted. McEichel, they whispered. Look at how good Connor McDavid is, and look at how much Eichel is not him. McDavid, they say, McDavid McDavid McDavid. No article could be written about Jack without mentioning how he came second to Connor.

The Sabres tried to quell the whispers. Look at our boy, they say. They signed Eichel to an eight-year, ten million dollar contract, and in the beginning of the 2018-19 season they named him captain. Isn’t our boy great.

The team does not improve. The Sabres hadn’t made the playoffs for three years when they drafted Eichel; they still haven’t made the playoffs today. I wasn’t around to look, but the team was bad. Eichel did his best, but he was young and inexperienced and did not -- never did -- have captain’s blood in him; Ryan O’Reilly lost his love for the game.

The whispers of character issues start to come out. Jack Eichel is a “locker room cancer;” he’s selfish, stuck-up, quick-tempered. He’s caught in a cage where the only key is to be Connor, something which he never wanted to achieve in the first place, and never could have even if he did want it. The whole narrative was completely fabricated. He liked Connor well enough when they met.

I do imagine he has feelings about it, though, and feelings about Connor now. He didn’t know him, not enough to have an opinion on the boy, but the name followed him around long enough for him to think about it. Imagine it. You’re good in your field, great, even. You’re doing well enough to earn yourself a superstar contract, you’re an All-Star, and yet the only way you will get any recognition at all is when they say that you are worse than one of the greatest players ever to play the game. They lock you into a connection that you have never wanted, barring you from forging your own path. You exist permanently in that orange-and-blue shadow. I don’t blame Jack for being angry. I would be too.

Babcock

Auston Matthews was incredible from the jump. He was big, he was strong, his wrister is the stuff of legend. He won the Calder in his and Mitch’s rookie year, by a not insignificant margin, well ahead of Laine. He was a coach’s dream doll, unusual enough to be marketed and good enough to be useful. Unavoidably masculine even at nineteen.

Mitch less so. Mitch is still small, remember, and struggles to gain weight. I know I talk about his size a lot, but it’s genuinely important. Hockey and its fan culture has long been a group that prioritized size and raw power above all things. Mitch possessed neither of those things, and when he struggled with gaining muscle it was seen as an unwillingness to try. If you know anything about the ability of our bodies to gain or lose weight, you know that it is simply a genetic roll of the dice, a scale that puts a little bit of us into the “gains muscle mass easily” category and decides when to stop. Most hockey players actually aren’t very far up the muscle-gaining spectrum, especially when compared to American football or baseball players -- mass is strength, yes, but it’s also more to move around on ice -- but Mitch is especially low on the scale. Because of this, he is seen as unmanly, a dangerous thing to be.

The Leafs media market is a nightmare, and always has been. Because this is the Centre of the Universe, there are more eyes on the Leafs than on any other team. More eyes mean more writers, means you have to say weirder and wilder things to beg for clicks. Outrage is a good marketing tactic. Getting mad about one of the prize prospects seemingly not wanting to bulk up for the good of the team is a very easy thing to do.

What’s more, Mitch, after his entry-level contract had expired, had had a very difficult and long-drawn out contract negotiation, asking for a lot of money -- essentially the maximum that the Leafs could afford at the time. Because of the salary cap constraint, this was seen as kind of selfish. The angry clicks move. Mitch is sensitive, they say. Soft, selfish, weak.

It’s easy enough to dismiss out of hand when your uncle from Belleville does it, because what does he know. It’s different when it’s the head coach of the Leafs. Mike Babcock, is, at the time of hiring, the highest-paid coach in the NHL. He was signed before the 2015-16 season, and at that point had an eight-year contract, which would have carried him up until this year.

Mike Babcock sucked. Structurally, his teams were fine -- the Leafs made the playoffs in 2016-17, and haven’t missed it since, but he was awful, horribly mean to the boys under him, and especially, especially Mitch.

We should skip ahead a little bit. It’s the beginning of the 2019-20 season. The Leafs have made the playoffs three times already, and lost in the first round each time -- but this, too, is not yet a phrase that strikes worry into our hearts. They’re young, and they have plenty of time left.

Respected veteran Jason Spezza came home to the Leafs, having spent his career -- a player who might squeak the Hall of Fame, but is more likely just below its level -- in first Ottawa, where he was the captain of the Senators briefly and one of its most well-loved players, and then Dallas. Like the boys I talk about here, Jason Spezza is a former OHL player, a GTA boy, a Leafs fan. The Leafs’ season opener is against Ottawa, the team where Jason Spezza left most of his mark. There used to be a promotion with the Senators -- a local branch of some pizza chain would offer a free slice if the Sens scored more than five goals in a game. Spezza (and his linemates, Heatley and Alfredsson) were so good, they named his line the Pizza line. Mike Babcock makes Jason Spezza a healthy scratch on that day.

This is seen as disrespectful, but no more than a coach living up to his hardass reputation. You do what the coach tells you, don’t you? Lest you become a whiner, or worse, a locker room cancer. Scratching an extremely well-respected veteran on the opener against his former team is just something some guys do. A message, if you will. Stay the course, Babcock just wants his players to respect him.

And then news of the list leaks.

It happened when Mitch was a rookie, but they kept it hidden for three years. The Leafs went on a father-and-sons trip, one they do every season. They’re on a road trip, with only their fathers, isolated from their home.

(A brief aside to talk about Mitch’s dad; his name is Paul Marner, and he is the most stereotypical hardass hockey dad on the planet. A nitpicker, an armchair coach, a bully. I do not imagine Mitch felt particularly comforted by his and Babcock’s combined presence on this trip.)

Babcock approached Mitch and asked him to organize all of his teammates in a list. He wanted Mitch to arrange them in order of hardest workers to laziest; he thought Mitch was one of the lazy ones, and wanted to drive this point home by making him categorize his teammates like this. Mitch, as a rookie hockey player does in the presence of the Maple Leaf hanging over his head like the sword of Damocles, obliged. He was under the impression it would be a private affair, just an assignment from Babcock to teach him some sort of lesson. Whether it be out of fear or honesty, he placed himself last on the list.

Babcock told the others.

Specifically, two Leafs vets that Mitch had placed low on the list -- Nazem Kadri and Tyler Bozak. Imagine this: you are a decent centre on a bubble team, but nonetheless an established NHL veteran of about a decade, and your coach shows you a list a rookie made. He tells you that the rookie arranged everyone by work ethic, grinders to lazy shits. You are firmly on the “lazy shit” end.

How much does the coach have to suck, or how much does the rookie have to be loved, for Kadri and Bozak to react like they did? The rumour says they called for Babcock’s head on the spot. Mitch was in tears. I wouldn’t want to stay in Toronto if that happened to me. No wonder he and Auston signed for so much -- Babcock was barely halfway through his contract when they did. If I’d thought that I would have to deal with him for that long, I wouldn’t accept anything less than as much as they could possibly pay me.

In the end, in the beginning of December, 2019, Mitch got hurt and the Leafs went on a road trip. They were already losing by the time they’d left, and they kept losing. Normally, a team on a road trip doesn’t take the hurt players with them, but they took Mitch. The Leafs lost six in a row and finally fired Babcock, letting Sheldon Keefe take his place. Mitch’s presence was a comfort.

Go West

The Leafs make the playoffs first, and take Mitch with them. The Sabres are fighting a silent war with their star centre, but they are no closer to success.

Connor McDavid is named captain at nineteen, the youngest in the history of the NHL. He scrapes the team to a playoff spot, then to a second round loss. He wins the Art Ross and the Hart.

The year before his entry-level contract expires, when he is first eligible, he signs what is then the most expensive per-year contract in NHL history -- eight years, a hundred million dollars. He is looking forward to spending the rest of his prime as an Oiler. He wins the Art Ross the next year, comes very close the year after. The Oilers do not make the playoffs again until after Covid hits.

He gets hurt a lot, too -- he breaks his collarbone as a rookie, missing half the season, and at the very end of the 2018-19 year, crashes into the net irons and shatters his knee. There are rumours of the man who broke Connor’s collarbone doing it on purpose; Connor claims that he overheard the man bragging about it, and I am inclined to believe him. This guy gets traded to the Oilers not too long after that.

In the meantime, Dylan is struggling. The Coyotes stick him in Tucson, a team he is obviously too good for. His entry-level contract slides another season. He wiffles between Tucson and Arizona, not being considered good enough to stay up but being too good to stay down. In the end, on the last year of his entry-level contract, he is traded from the Coyotes to the Chicago Blackhawks, a similarly bad team with a few remnants of its Cup-winning days. Dylan, a feeble icon of Chicagoan hope for one last dance with the aging core, centres Patrick Kane.

In his first half-season with the Blackhawks, he scores 51 points in 58 games. There are hopeful flashes of what he can be, the touted prospect he once was.

Things wrap up on New Years like this: Connor is beyond a hundred-point pace; Dylan, although in no less danger, is at least out of the dust at the bottom of the barrel; Jack is caught in a cold war; the team loves Mitch.

John Tavares has a Terrible, Horrible, No Good, Very Bad Playoff Series

March of 2020 rolls around, and with it the coronavirus pandemic. The league is shut down before the season ends, and the playoffs re-formed in July, inside a bubble -- no one in, no one out until they are eliminated. The Sabres stay with their families, having once again missed the playoffs. The Leafs are set to play the Columbus Blue Jackets, and the Oilers are set to play the Blackhawks.

This, to date, is Dylan’s only playoff appearance, and he is set to face Connor.

Dylan wins.

The qualifying round -- functioning as the first round of the bubble playoffs -- is a best of five, not of seven, and the Blackhawks defeat the Oilers 3-1. They then proceed to lose in five games (this one is a best of seven) to Vegas, but Dylan’s job is done.

The Leafs lose in the first round again. The Leafs have made the playoffs since Auston and Mitch’s debut, every single year, but they lose each time; in six, to the Capitals, then in seven every year after that. Or, in this case, in five.

Covid had not stopped by the end of the 2020 season ( :/ ) and the NHL was rearranged for what would be ostensibly the 2020-2021 season, but ended up being played mostly in 2021. Because of border laws, the Canadian teams are sequestered into their own, North division. Dylan Strome signs a two-year contract extension with Chicago right before the season starts -- one that will carry him until the end of the 2021-2022 season.

If you’ve seen All or Nothing on Amazon Prime, it is this season that is covered. The Leafs tear through what is seen as a weaker North division, taking a comfortable first place spot. Connor McDavid cracks a hundred points in fifty-six games. Both Leafs and Oilers lose in the first round.

The Leafs do it perhaps most remarkably. They have drawn the Canadiens, a rather insubstantial team who are in their spot mostly because they have one of the best goaltenders in recent memory at their back.

I watched this game, live, before I was a serious Leafs fan. I can only imagine what it would be like if you were already invested at that point; I would not wish to live that horror on anyone. I tried to watch All or Nothing, later, but I stop here.

Corey Perry and John Tavares are both on the ice, in the race for the puck. Tavares catches an edge, as you sometimes do, and falls, and Perry’s knee is in exactly the wrong place at exactly the wrong time, and it catches Tavares in the side of the head. He falls to the ice, his limbs splaying unnaturally. He won’t move.

Medics come over, to try and raise him to his feet. He fights against them, blood streaming from a cut in his forehead, unable to tell if they are trying to hurt him or not. There is no one in the crowd, the stadium empty for the pandemic. The camera cuts to Kyle Dubas in the rafters, who has a phone in his hand and swiftly vanishes back into the halls of the arena. He is calling Tavares’ wife. We do not know what is going to happen. Everyone looks shaken -- the Habs have just watched a man nearly die, the Leafs have just lost their captain, perhaps forever. They lose, although the game feels like an afterthought. I do not want to watch hockey anymore.

They win the next three straight, though, even without him. Then they lose, twice, in overtime.

The Leafs, as they have done for the past four years up to this point, go to game seven.

Partway through the game, Mitch Marner panics in his defensive zone and puts the puck over the glass. This is a penalty, it is a penalty every time, and he knows that. He sits in the box, looking defeated already. He curls in on himself, and the camera flashes to the penalty box. He’s crying. He knows the game is lost.

The Leafs are eliminated again, and there is a target on his back now, not only for the puck going over the glass but for the tears. He’s soft, they say. As they have said since he was picked, because he doesn’t look like a hockey player should, because he doesn’t act like a hockey player should, because he doesn’t play hockey like a hockey player should. He makes too much and he disappears when it matters.

Thoughts on the Leafs’ playoff successes suddenly switch from the core is young, even if this is frustrating to they need to win before it’s too late. Already, in recent years, they have suffered historic game-seven chokes and drastic failures to launch. Whether they do it against teams like the President’s Trophy-winning Capitals or the barely-alive wild-card Canadiens is irrelevant. They cannot win a round, at all. The Leafs are already the team with the greatest Cup drought, and they are now gaining a long playoff round victory drought too. It should be time, at least, for them to look like they are a contender.

This is how the Leafs find themself stuck; a particularly frustrating timeloop, even though hockey itself is nothing but. Sports are cyclical by nature. A team is bad, then okay, then good, then declining, then bad again, and this repeats anew. Some teams try to get themselves out of this cycle by being good forever; I can assure you that this only really happens to the New York Yankees, who employ a cadre of evil wizards to keep everything on that hell team going well for them. Most other teams who try end up stuck like the Canucks are, right now: bad enough to miss the playoffs, but not good enough to get key picks for a rebuild. I can see next season play out, clear as day: they struggle out of the gate, one of their stars gets hurt right when it seems like they’re at the very, very start of gathering momentum, they’re bottom-10 by January and the team says everyone but Pettersson are on the table, they trade picks and low-grade players, they get blazing hot post-deadline and finish twenty-first.

There is, unfortunately, also a perception that pure talent is not what makes players playoff performers -- instead, some so-called “clutch gene” that exists, or not. The reality is somewhere in between. Clutch exists. There are always players who can score when no one else can even dream of it, but a greater problem is luck. President’s Trophy winners are not often Cup winners (even if higher seeds are most likely to win), because the regular season is a much, much bigger sample size and the playoffs can change the course of all of it by a goalie having a hot streak at the right time. The 2018-19 Tampa Bay Lightning, third-best team in NHL history, got swept in the first round by Sergei Bobrovsky going crazy. The 2022-23 Bruins lost in seven in the first round in much the same manner.

And no matter what, the Leafs are always on the wrong end of the luck. Bounces hit the post. The refs take back goals for reasons they would have ignored at any other time of year. John Tavares slips, and his head makes contact with a knee.

Mitch ends up the whipping boy. He is the Leafs’ most valuable player, and this is a team with Auston Matthews on it, but I’m serious. He was the Leafs’ leading playoff scorer in 2023, he’s one of the best penalty-killers in the league, he’s adored by everyone who’s ever once talked to him. He only ever wanted to be a Leaf, and now that he is here he is the sacrificial lamb for the anger at a curse that is not his fault.

I do blame the media. I will always blame the media, those who turn on him at a moment’s notice because they know picking on the skinny pretty unmanly one will get more clicks than anything else. I beg of you -- know that, of anything that it could be, it is not Mitch’s fault.

Jack Eichel has a Terrible, Horrible, No Good, Very Bad Neck Injury

It is 2021, and the Sabres aren’t going to make the playoffs. Jack Eichel has been captain for coming up on three years, and has been a Sabre for coming up on six, none of which have even slightly improved the team. He is widely disliked within the fanbase, and, rumouredly, within the locker room and organization.

Jack is frustrated, dragging a mediocre team along through a slog of the past six years, and he has never been the kindest man on the planet. He is about to get worse. The Sabres are on a losing streak when they head to Long Island, and Jack is hit the wrong way and slips a disk in his neck. The Sabres insist he’ll only be out a week and a half.

It is a great sin in hockey, to go against team. Anything that can be seen as selfish is demonized; shooting from a difficult angle when your teammate is wide open, not playing when you can muscle through the pain. Not trusting your coach or management is about as bad as you can get. If you’re a team guy, willing to sacrifice health and limb for the boys, you are held as saint, no matter how hurt you become in the end. This is a philosophy that has been drilled into these men since they were kids, as soon as they put their first skates on. You can stand any pain for the length of a hockey shift; you can play through anything for two minutes. It is a dangerous, dangerous school of thought, one of the most destructive parts of hockey culture. But it is, nonetheless, law.

Eichel is about to commit a sin so great they’ll kick him out of Heaven. I do think that, of the four of them, he is the only one with any semblance of genre awareness: when he was first scouted as a prospect and they were comparing him to McDavid, I think that he would be the only one to ignore the media’s spin on that as thoroughly as he did. He knows what he is, and he knows himself. Of course it comes off as bitchy and selfish, though -- that kind of pressure can’t be kind to anyone.

Before the week and a half is up, he visits a specialist doctor about his neck. This is where it all starts to go wrong.

The Sabres take issue with that for two reasons: one, that they hoped he’d be able to come back after the end of it. Keep in mind that he has herniated a disk in his neck, an injury typically so severe it’s impressive he’s walking -- slipping a cervical disk often causes nerve pain that radiates down through the entire spinal cord below that point, which is the whole body from how high up his is. Two, that the doctor he consults is an independent surgeon, one unaffiliated with the Sabres themselves.

The thing about belonging to a hockey team is that you are, because of the way your employment is linked to your physical health, essentially their property. They make your medical decisions for you, they feed you, they tell you how to move. Going to someone else is a breach of contract, and the already-tense connection between Jack and the Sabres gets more tense. The Sabres keep losing. They lose eighteen games in a row.

Jack’s doctor recommended a surgery that no NHL player has ever had; cervical disk replacement. The Sabres did not want this -- the surgery carries risks, yes, but they also wanted to control the way that Jack’s injury was handled, and going through with this surgery was Jack’s wish, not theirs. The Sabres do their own evaluation, and ask for a different, more common surgery: spinal fusion. This surgery carries less immediate risk, but the bones in Eichel’s neck will also be fused, and he doesn’t want that. Because the team has final control over a player’s health, not the player, they decline his disk replacement. Having reached a stalemate, they rule him out for the rest of the season, trying to win a war of attrition.

September 2021 rolls around, and the Sabres, along with thirty-one other teams, take training camp. At the beginning of training camp, players do a physical exam. Jack, because his herniated disk has not improved, because he needs a surgery that has been denied from him, because he is stubbornly and bravely willing to wait out the Sabres, fails his physical. As a result, the Sabres, fed up with him, strip the captain’s C from his chest.

Jack makes one final request to the team: either let him get the surgery or trade him. In the end, they trade him to the Vegas Golden Knights, a team that did not exist when he was drafted. The Golden Knights approve him for the disk replacement surgery the day they acquire him.

The surgery is a success; his rehab goes better than anyone expects, and he starts tearing it up when he comes back. I would argue that, if the Golden Knights win the Cup this year, he should get the Conn Smythe -- he has been an invaluable member of the team, even without a letter on his chest.

It is less important for him to win his million awards than it is for him to come in and out of this surgery in the first place, still able to play. He fought with the team that was supposed to have upheld him as their star for months over his right to do what he wanted with his own health; in the end, the only way to go was for him to change that team. He was the first to have this surgery, but after him there have already been hockey players who have undergone it -- much like Tommy John, the baseball player who got his ulnar ligament reconstructed and the surgery to do so named after him. He fought for the chance to control his own body and won.

And for that, he was demonized.

The Sabres missed the playoffs every year they had him; they missed the playoffs every year after he left. Because he was the captain and he had the audacity to go against the organization’s wishes, he was hated. In Buffalo, he is still hated. If you ask, they’ll tell you he was a locker room cancer, that he was undevoted to winning. If you look at him in Vegas, neither of those things are true.

Jack Eichel is a rare man -- he does have that “clutch” gene, or rather doesn’t have the choke instinct. He has always been unbothered by the spiral around him. He operates well in the mire, and when the pressure rises it doesn’t affect him (or maybe, even better, he feeds on it.) He has the right kind of mentality -- that fuck-you, I’m here and you can’t change that, you tried to control me and I wouldn’t bend mentality. He has only made the playoffs once, this year. Like Dylan, actually, his only appearance has involved defeating Connor McDavid. Go back and watch his highlights from the Vegas-Edmonton series if you can: he has a couple of pretty goals and more than a couple great defensive takeaways, but he doesn’t lose his cool, not once. He has earned his right to be here, and he knows it more than anyone else. I’m rooting for the Stars, but I hope he wins some day.

153

How do you talk about the Edmonton Oilers? I mean, without either excusing or demonizing them, although I admit I have Hater Instinct and trend towards the latter. They have the best player in the world; that grown-up incarnation of the wide-eyed boy on the Erie rink. They have the best playoff performer in the world; Leon Draisaitl, who I have not avoided mentioning until now on purpose, but whom I cannot continue without bringing up. They have been terribly cap-managed since the day McDavid was drafted, and are an unstable roster with blazing-hot offense and very little defence or goaltending at all.

For a brief moment, let’s not talk about the Oilers. Let’s only talk about Connor himself.

McDavid has 850 points in 569 career games. Not even Sid had that many points through that few games. If he stays healthy, Connor’s well on track to become the second player ever to hit two thousand for his career -- after a certain other Oiler, who need not be mentioned. He has won just about every award you can win, with the exception of the Selke… and the Cup.

If it’s possible, he has proven himself better than all of the hype at the draft saying he would become a great. To watch him, you can see the way he has changed his team, how even though they have all learned from him that he is still the best.

There is something that many Oilers do. When next your team plays them, pay attention to it: they cut into the offensive zone with possession on the outside, using tight little crossovers to gain speed, after which they’ll usually try to rush the net (if there are no defenders in the way). This is a move that McDavid has patented; he’ll use it, just as many of the others will, but he’ll probably be the one that scores. The depth all skate like him, really, fast and in wide arcs, trying to generate a rush chance.

Connor as a player is a tour de force, the best power-player in the world by a mile, no slouch at even strength, speedy enough to score even shorthanded. The boy’s got wheels. Sometimes it’s hard to tell which NHLers are fast and which are slow, but Connor’s just that tick above everyone else that you can see it without eye training at all.

Connor as a person is a bit less showy. He’s quiet by nature, shy and soft-voiced. Because he was hyped so much (franchise saviour, McJesus, Next One) he has been media trained into sterility, giving the same level answers as everyone else, hardly daring to express any opinion at all. His eyes are big, rounded, and one of them is lazy from a time when his brother tried to take it out as a child, and that combined with his heavy brow and stiff expression -- he’s never been a good smiler, smirks with one corner of his mouth and that’s mostly it -- give him a resting expression of something like concern, or maybe despair. When he laughs, he doesn’t really “laugh,” just kind of coughs, a one or two-syllable affair. He avoids eye contact with the camera, and often the reporters as well. There is no seething emotion under the surface, not like with Eichel, nor does he speak analytically like Dylan does. He moves through his life as if he is someone who does not want it to turn out quite like this.

I do not know if he wants to be in Edmonton. There are jokes about how he is desperate to leave, but I definitely don’t believe those; there’s a difference between not wanting to stay and wanting to go. I don’t think he hates it. He has been given a responsibility, the captain’s C -- and because, unlike Jack Eichel, he is a good Canadian boy who has been given a destiny, he accepts it. He loves his teammates, especially Draisaitl, whom he seems to derive all his confidence from.

I will also say that I don’t believe he’s stupid. Naive, perhaps; not stupid. There is no way out for him, even if he was sure he wanted to leave; he’s the best player in the world, far too expensive for any contender to afford in either trade or cap space, and if he asks for a trade he won’t let himself go to a team that isn’t already a contender. He will remain an Oiler at least until his contract is up, and I imagine that his staying afterwards depends on Draisaitl.

People talk about him leaving a lot, largely because of the team that has been assembled around him. The Oilers are not a well-created team, and I will say that plainly now and spend as little time technically deconstructing it as possible.

Beyond McDavid and Draisaitl, they have:

A rookie starting goaltender, whose success as we know it is based on a single-season sample size and a complete playoff collapse.

A five million dollar backup goaltender, who earned his contract by being carried by the Leafs, despite being utterly horrendous for a long enough stretch leading up to his free agency that anyone who looked beyond the win-loss numbers wouldn’t have signed him.

One genuine shutdown defender.

One young up-and-coming defender; by far one of the most promising Oiler (or otherwise) defensive prospects, beyond the usual suspects.

One netfront grinder who is great at playing wing to high-power setters, but cannot drive his own line.

One decent 2C.

Sarah Nurse’s cousin. Sarah’s better.

A supporting cast of bad defencemen and middling-at-best forwards.

Many charming characters, of course: Zach Hyman, the grinder, is a beloved ex-Leaf, and I’m personally a fan of Nugent-Hopkins, the 2C, but the vast majority of this is not the sort of thing a contending team is built upon. McDavid has missed the playoffs almost as often as he’s made them. The playoffs are a crapshoot, but in order to try your luck you have to at least be able to enter the lottery, and it takes a stunning amount of effort to be able to do that.

So, McDavid lingers, in this kind of limbo. It mirrors the Leafs, almost. (And yes. Because McDavid is an Ontario boy, and the Leafs are the Centre of the Universe, we have to mention them both in conversation. Not all stories revolve around the Leafs, but this one does.) One true contender, and one generational talent, both what we picture to be well overdue for their Cup run, but neither having yet done so.

The thing about the stories of the class of 2015 is that they intertwine, that they mimic and mirror each other. These boys have not simply gotten drafted in the same handful of picks in the same year and gone on their merry ways -- they layer, they parallel, they weave around each other. Connor is the captain of a team that cannot win, Jack is a captain, Mitch cannot win. Jack fought for the right to control his body and was demonized for it; Mitch negotiated for a contract that he determined to be a fair price for Babcock, and was demonized for it. Whatever pure saviour they figure Connor to be, Jack is the twisted inverse of that, falling from grace.

Connor has one of the best seasons in NHL history, one of only seventeen player-seasons with over a hundred and fifty points (Nine of those seasons belong to Gretzky. Another four belong to Lemieux.) He loses, in six games in the second round, to the Vegas Golden Knights. At the time that he’s eliminated, he leads the playoffs in points. Leon Draisaitl is tied for second place. Counting from the date Mitch Marner played his first game in the NHL, the Oilers and Leafs have almost exactly the same number of playoff game wins, with the Oilers having one more.

There’s No Place Like Strome

Before we can look to the future, there is one person I have been neglecting. Dylan, poor Dylan. I think it would be only half an unfair assessment to call him a draft bust. He’s talented, for sure, but not nearly the same calibre that the draftees around him are. Hardly a Marner, an Eichel, or even a Rantanen or a Meier.

His career has existed quietly in the shadows, so far from Connor McDavid that it only feels fair to mention them in the same conversation in this context. It has been eight years since they were best friends, Connor so close to Dylan he waited in the stadium in order to watch him get drafted. They didn’t look each other in the eye in the handshake line when Dylan won their series. Connor didn’t go to his wedding.

That being said: so far, he has found himself a knack for landing in the shadow of greatness. When he was an Erie Otter, it was Connor -- Dylan held the scoring title in their draft year, while Connor was out nursing his hand, but Connor was the chosen son and Dylan was the Coyotes’ consolation prize. When he was traded to the Blackhawks, he found himself centring Kane and Debrincat, but of course both of them were the offseason and trade deadline’s prizes, and not him.

And then he signed in Washington.

So now, we go back to Ovechkin. Alex Ovechkin is one of the greatest players of all time; his Capitals are on the decline now, but they contended for a long time while he was playing and may still contend as long as Ovi still skates. For a long time, the team relied on Ovechkin’s goalscoring, assisted mostly by his faithful centre, Nicklas Backstrom. They, too, are married; they have played a thousand games as teammates, been through a decade of heartbreak together before the Cup was theirs. During the 2021-2022 season, Backstrom took time off -- he needed hip surgery, something likely to end his career. Ovi was alone.

There is a fundamental difference, of course, between the expectations of wingers and centres. A winger, like Ovi, scores, or assists, at his own leisure, but it is the centre’s job to drive his line. Ovechkin is generational -- he will sink forty goals no matter what -- but he still needs someone to move him out of the defensive zone, someone to make his assist.

Enter Dylan -- a young centre, not especially fast on his feet but intelligent, and clearly experienced in the realm of managing high-calibre wingers (see: Debrincat, and the ghost of Patrick Kane.) He joins the Capitals on a one-year contract, desperate to prove himself. Chicago didn’t want him, and Arizona didn’t either. It takes barely until November before he is, once again, the necessary shadow of greatness.

Ovechkin, the team’s captain and centrepoint, clearly likes what he sees, and the management does, as well. The Capitals offer Strome a five-year extension.

Maybe it’s because he’s less of a superstar then the other three members of his draft class, but Dylan has a life outside of hockey -- a wife and young daughter. After being thrown away by other teams, and with his new family, I can only imagine that it was… peaceful, if anything, to be offered this contract.

Chicago, after rapidly getting rid of him, Debrincat, and then Kane, would go on to tank spectacularly, and win themselves the first overall pick. They will use it to draft another generational talent. His name is also Connor.

The Blue Wedding

So, here we stand, at the end of it all. Dylan finally has a home, a mother hen of a Russian bear that it has become his job to assist in record-breaking, and soon to be two daughters. Jack has a team that loves him, freedom from pain, and an ongoing potential Cup run. Connor has a sterile mansion, a best friend, and an unsteady team. Mitch’s life is up in the air.

Right as I’m writing this, the general manager of the Leafs has been unceremoniously kicked out. His tenure will end the day before Mitch’s no-move contract kicks in, but it is not known if Mitch’s time as a Leaf will survive that long. He is well on track to become one of the greatest Leafs of all time, and his tenure might be cut short in the prime of his career.

But let’s wrap up with this: Mitch will get married this summer. Because he’s Mitch, the darling of the league, everyone’s best friend, I imagine the wedding party to be extensive/ Packed to the brim of current and former Leafs, as well as people who have never been Leafs. I wonder if Dylan Strome will be there -- or even Connor McDavid, although McDavid never even attended Dylan’s wedding.

The stories, as they do, go on.

#asks #mitch marner #jack eichel #connor mcdavid #dylan strome #hope this helps and/or gives you brain poisoning #narrativeposting

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cinnbar-bun · 11 months ago

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hi hi this has to be my favorite one piece writing blog, seriously ur writing makes me so happy 😭🖤

not sure if i can request multiple characters but do you mind if i can get general sfw/nsfw headcanons for jinbe and brook?

sorry i really like weird old men (again love your writing and i hope you have a very nice day!!!!!)

A/n: Aw thank you sweetheart. Please enjoy this~! Also, sorry for not posting for a bit, I’ve been exhausted from work and lost some motivation to write oneshots :( but I just love Brook so much so I had to do this.

Brook + Jinbei General SFW + NSFW HCs

Note: separate relationships, reader is GN, smut headcanons inside. Fluffy mmm.

Word Count: 874

Brook

Brook, ever the performer, loves waking you up or lulling you to sleep with his music. Heck, he’ll even burst out into song throughout the day for you if you wish. He’s your 24/7 skeletal radio.

Sometimes he also does freestyle music and makes up lyrics and beats on the spot about whatever you’re doing or how he feels. They’re usually cheesy and not all that serious, but they never fail to lift your spirits up.

Brook likes to be dramatic in your presence to get some attention from you. Sometimes he’s like a spoiled baby but he can’t help it- you’re too amazing!! And he loves you so much!!

If you’re ever feeling too hot, Brook will always put a hand to your head or elsewhere to help you cool down with his devil fruit powers. He’s your not so little walking ice pack.

Brook, while eccentric, is still an old man at heart so he often likes to treat you and spoil you the old-fashioned way. Kneeling on the main deck as you’re on the top deck while he performs you sweet sonnets and ballads he made just for you. Always wanting to keep an arm around your waist. Walking on the street side of the sidewalk. Buying you flowers at any given moment.

He’s a charming gentleman, and it’s very clear when it comes to you.

That being said, he can still be a pervert and it’s full force for you.

He goes gaga over your body! Literally loses his soul when he even gets a peek of you because ??? Hello??? You’re beautiful??

Beyond just sexually, he adores your body. It’s hard for him to explain the feeling but ever since he’s become just a pile of bones, he’s found a greater appreciation for the human body.

When he’s in bed with you, he wants to explore every inch and crevice of your body. Don’t get shy on him now, it’s not like he even has eyes to stare at you, YOHOHOHO!

Kidding, but really, when you two are getting intimate, he focuses on you and your reactions a great deal. He can’t have sex with you the way a human would, so most of his pleasure is derived from your enjoyment- yeah, he’s still got it.

His phalanges are god tier, argue with the wall!!!

Jinbei

Local dad-friend to the crew, loyal husband to you. You might not even be married but you might as well be, that’s just how sweet he is.

He really likes trying new things with you. Even something as small as a new ice cream flavor makes him happy. It’s rather silly and mundane, but something about doing it with you makes it feel wonderful.

“‘Cereal milk’…? There’s really a flavor for that?!”

And alongside new things, he likes to make traditions for the two of you. He’s a very sentimental man, so it can end up being something like eating that one specific dish you two had on your first date, or having a spot on the ship to sit and cuddle.

Jinbei makes sure you get a healthy amount of fruit in you. He will be casually leaving you a plate of freshly cut fruits and a glass of water beside you. He’s not letting you devoid yourself of essential nutrients and hydration. Will force feed you if necessary.

Okay this is just my headcanon but he’s got old man eyes so if something is in smaller fonts he squints and holds the page up to his face to try and read it. It isn’t until you offer to just read it for him that he FINALLY gives in and has you read it for him.

He’s got a great laugh. A hearty, jovial laugh that anyone in the crew can hear from miles away. Honestly, your jokes might not even be that good, but to him, it’s hilarious. Just being so carefree and funny like this is special to him. Your jokes and funny faces seriously make his day, so please never feel embarrassed to tell him one.

I don’t have a segue for this. He is just a big boy.

And yeah, he knows that he’s huge, which is why he takes extra care to make sure you’re properly stretched and ready to take him.

He never really put too much thought into his body beyond his strength, but he has to admit, he loves when you shower attention and compliment his body. Especially in the bedroom, his face just warms up and he gets a bit prideful. It gets him going knowing his body turns you on so much.

Gentle giant. He’s not going to go feral on you, especially not during the first few times you two lay together. He may consider that sort of thing later, alongside many safety measures.

He does enjoy doggy, but also, he finds it so sexy when you ride him. Forward or reverse, it doesn’t matter. It’s also a pretty good compromise because he can let you set a pace while joining with you to get it “rougher” if you so wish.

Lots and lots of praise from Jinbei, all whispered lovingly into your ear as he’s pounding into you <3

#one piece x reader #one piece #one piece smut #one piece hcs #smut #op brook x reader #brook x reader #one piece brook #soul king brook #reader insert #x reader #jinbei x reader #jinbei #jinbe #jinbe x reader

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phasecornnuts · 8 months ago

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I would love to power bottom Valentino from hazbin hotel ples 😏 also I LOVE angst so maybe a bit of that 😌 head cannons or a fic doesn’t matter I love words

Hello again whores! This is over 16k words…. I think I may have a problem, but I cooked so whatever

Tbh I may open writing commissions bc I love y’all but if I’m writing biblical epics I lowkey would appreciate being paid (college is expensive) 😭

CW: For general angst and Drug use

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

You hated working nights, but working for Val always meant you worked nights. If someone were to ask you to write a list of everything you disliked about the club, you’d swear the exterminators would be here by the time you were done with it. But alas, it was what it was and there was nothing you could do to change it. That fucking contract made sure of that.

There were a few things that could make your shift bearable though. You liked Angel, even though he didn’t really come by anymore because of that stupid hotel, you liked the free drinks, even though Val made sure they were watered down after you vomited on a customer, and you liked the pills Val would give you, even though they made you feel loopy when you preformed. Those were the shit. Grade A. Top tier. Happiness in a tablet the size of your fingernail.

In your dressing room you watched the clock, five minutes. God, you were already sweating in the shitty outfit Val made you wear for tonight. A frilly maid outfit with black lingerie underneath, the man wanted a strip-tease and he was gonna have it one way or another. With Angel gone, you were the only other person he thought was worth headlining. That felt good to hear, even if you were only second choice. Maybe Angel being gone was a good thing, not for him but for you, maybe Val would see that you’re better than him, that you tried more. Maybe then you could be the star, and not just the understudy. Maybe, maybe, maybe; The word’s rhythm wavered in your head.

Hoping for Val to want you was fruitless though, you knew. Angel was the golden goose- or spider, you supposed - and it would take an act of god for someone to eclipse him. You took your eyes off the clock, knowing getting lost in your thoughts would just lead to a spiral of self-loathing. You closed your eyes and released a heavy sigh. On your table, beside your makeup and phone stood a fluorescent orange bottle. Unscrewing the cap you let loose three in your palm before capping the bottle. You ran the pad of your thumb over the tiny white buttons, smooth and chalky, before placing them in a row on your tongue, all washed down with watery gin. A twisted communion.

You lean back in your chair, wondering when the pills are gonna kick in. About two minutes pass before you hear the door to your dressing room open and a tired waitress with smudgy blue eyeliner and a crooked wig tilts her head towards the hallway to tell you it’s time for you to get on stage. Walking past her, you can smell a heavy peach scented perfume she used to try to cover the smell of sweat. Your heels clacked on the tile floor as you walked up to the entrance of the stage. You scratched your back from the itchy fabric of the costume, then adjusted the tops of your stockings. The song that’s currently playing ends and the performer before you walks to the back, they’re huffing and tired. They stretch and pop their back before looking at you, mouthing “Good luck.” The DJ of the club took a beat before announcing you to the crowd. Rolling your shoulders, you walked on stage feeling the hot spotlights shine on you.

That’s when it hits.

All of the tension you held in your body lifted, and your mind began to swim as you felt the Oxy kick in. Fuck, they really were the best. They made you feel warm and floaty, made the world seem bearable. You swung your hips seductively as you sauntered to the pole, ready to begin your act. Looking around, all the faces of the crowd blended together. It felt like the world was painted in watercolor, all of its harsh edges gone, replaced with washes that drifted out into nothing.

A chemical confidence kicked in then. Those languid movements of yours had everyone entranced, grinding your sex to the pole as you teased eager watchers with a peek up your skirt. Over the music you could hear their hoots and wolf-whistles, then frenzy when you began to shimmy off your top, exposing that black bra you had on under. You throw it out into the crowd, grateful not to have that polyester piece of shit on you anymore. The way they all clamor to catch it made you bite your bottom lip with a smirk. They were all so pathetic.

You spun on the ball of your foot, but the weightlessness of your opioid addled body worked against you, making you fall. Luckily you caught yourself on your hands, pretending it was some sultry move like a lady in a porno. The crawling was good though, you pretended to fuck the stage before you got to the center. You leaned back on your hands, stretching out a heeled foot that they all begged to touch. One almost did, before you snatched it away.

Slipping off that ugly skirt and kicking it off into the drunken crowd felt so good. They were transfixed, enthralled, however you wanted to put it. Your high made everything better, blanketing your body in comfort- That was always the peak. Savoring those small moments that made them scream. Looping and spinning and sliding and going upside down, stretching your legs out spread-eagle. When you felt the room start to spiral you stopped with your back to it for support. With a fake sexiness you slid your hand down your stomach, into those thin painties before taking it out.

God, it felt good to be desired even if it was like this. Sure, Val didn’t want you, but they did. All those sinners and hell-born who clamored to touch you and have you touch them. How they fought over an ugly, scratchy top because you wore it.

Turning your head you saw a wide-eyed patron ignoring a half-drank glass. You smirk and crawl towards them, and their eyes turn to the size of saucers. Reaching the edge of the stage you lean over, hanging over their small table. You opened your mouth wide enough to kiss- But you didn’t. You let your tongue hang out of your mouth, letting a fat drop of spit land in their drink. That was all they could have of you; You smile and go back to the stage to continue your act.

You don’t know how long he’d been standing there when you saw him. Valentino. He nips at his cigarette while he looks at you, not knowing what he’s thinking. Your moves become bigger, looser, hoping to impress him. A glob of phlegm sits at the back of your mouth and you swallow, feeling the tenseness grow inside your body. I can be good too, see! I’m as good as Angel! Even better! Please…please don’t fire me.

He walks closer to the stage as you keep grinding on the pole. Your eyes meet for a second before you look away, unsure. When he reaches the edge of the stage is when you slam yourself to the floor- the crowd hollered. Val adjusts his glasses and takes a long, long drag from his cigarette. Your body cranes towards him, head lowered in reverence while you studied his face. Val was always so hard to read, that’s the thing you hated most about him - well, at least one of them- was he displeased, impressed, disinterested? Fuck if you knew.

With one hand he pinched your face, between his pointer and thumb. He pressed his mouth to yours, filling it with all of that warm smoke. The roof of your mouth hurt so much, but the rest of your body trembled. He’d never been this open, kissing you, watching you dance, it felt so, so good to have his attention. Val pulled away, pink cloud leaving your parted lips.

Valentino leaned in, “Meet me in the back.”

“I still have five minutes left…”

“I’m your boss.” There was a vague sternness to his words, what were five minutes compared to his regard?

You breathed heavily. “Gimme a second.”

Quickly as you could you got off stage. Your head was spinning and you couldn’t tell why- was it the Oxy? The drink? The dancing? The cigarette? All of them combined. The backstage was full of cold air, making goosebumps prickle over your legs. You crossed your forearms and leaned them on the wall. Eyes closed, you counted backwards from 100; 100, 99, 98, 97- Val with his cigarette showed up in your mind, how he pulled your mouth to his, how you shivered, how you liked it. You tried again, but he kept lingering. Another restart, going a bit longer this time, but you gave up somewhere around 56.

Through the backstage hallway you walked to the back, The Velvet Rooms. Those fancy, gilded places hidden away that only those Val liked - or who could afford it- could enter. Valentino hid himself away in the biggest one, a room within the wall closed off with heavy dark blue curtains. The Velvet Rooms were where Overlords and certain Goetia came to be spat on, spanked, and other “peculiar wants” that Val catered to.

Opening the curtains you were struck with the heavy scent of his smoke. You closed them shut, the room illuminated by a faint pink light. Val sat on the couch, legs spread wide and arms slung over the top, his heavy coat thrown to some unknown corner. Seeing him reminded you of how little clothes you had on. Val’s second set of arms beckoned you over, you obeyed. He rested them on your waist, idly feeling the texture of your garter belt.

“Good of you to come carino,” He kissed your stomach, tittering at the way you quivered. “You did so good I had to meet with you privately.”

“How could I deny you Valcito?” You responded in a honeyed tone that made him chuckle.

“Valcito?” He smirked.

“Aren’t you?” You tilt his head up to see your smiling face, dressed with sultry bedroom eyes, “My little Valcito who liked my dancing.”

Val showed off that gold tooth of his; He kissed your stomach again, leaving a little red mark.

You dropped your hands to his arms, sliding up to his biceps. You bit your lip, so hard and toned. For so long you were curious about Val’s body, his sex, his libido. You wondered what he did to Angel to make him so sore and his voice so hoarse. It was embarrassing how many nights you spent thinking about what he tasted like- though now there was no point, you knew now, cigarettes and citrus vodka.

The tips of his fingers traced along your hips, fingering the thin strap of your panties. Your voice grew weak as he nipped again and again at the soft flesh of your stomach. Mind in a daze, words slipped out of your mouth.

“You know, I’m surprised you called me back here…” A kitten-lick across your navel that made you squirm.

“Why’s that Carino? Don’t think you’re pretty enough?” His voice teased.

“I thought you didn’t like women”

“Why would you think that?” He looped his finger around the hip strap again

“Angel.” He snickered.

“Oh Carino, don’t worry. Angel is just the soup D’Jour,” His finger dipped forward along your hip bone, “Men, women; Women, men; all of those sweet things in-between, how could you pick just one?”

“How poignant.” You said with a bit of a flat affect. His waxing-poetic seemed so unimpressive to you. Though, you felt a stab of guilt for thinking so.

“You, Sugar, I just can’t deny,” Val moved his hands up along your torso, stopping just underneath your breasts, “Good tits, nice stomach, pretty face,” his attention went back to your panties, “You coulda been on the cover of Hustler. Hhhnn, maybe I’ll make you the centerfold this month…”

You leaned over him, pressing your face to his. Fuck, his tongue felt so good in your mouth, making your stomach start to knot and squirm. He took your bottom lip between his teeth, making you whine before you pulled away. Placing tiny nips on his neck, you felt the heat in your stomach grow hotter and hotter and turn to slick. You wanted to touch him, feel him, consume him, and be consumed.

Val pulled away for a second, but it felt like forever. He reached into a shallow pocket and produced a button of something. It was a tiny tablet, waxy and fat, and pinched between his two fingers. You wondered what it was, it didn’t look like Oxy. You hoped it was something stronger, desiring the out of body experience you’d been losing since you started to grow tolerant of the opiate.

“You ever play a game of rolling roulette Sugar?” Val asked, you shook your head no.

“You trade the X tongue to tongue, and whoever’s it dissolves on is the lucky winner.” Oh so it was Ecstasy, now that’s good shit.

Val pulled you onto his lap, cupping a breast, “C’mon Baby, let’s go on a trip together…”

That’s all it took.

The tiny pill teetered between both of your tongues as you kissed, growing smaller and smaller and smaller. Val’s spit was thick and sweet and wonderful, something about it making your body go alight with electricity. The X melted so easy, like blue cotton candy; You could feel the serotonin swell in your brain like a party balloon.

When the first roll happened you moaned into Val’s mouth. All of your nerves were standing on edge, shivering with anticipation. He removed your bra, placing a nipple in his mouth as you felt his cock grow harder. It felt so much better than your other highs. The Oxy only ever calmed things, washed them out. The X was so different, so so much better. Everything seemed to shimmer, like the whole world was wrapped in cellophane. How could you think the absence of feeling was so wonderful when this existed?

Your mind was in a twinkly daze when you started to undress him. He kissed and licked at your neck while you felt your way through unbuttoning his top. Fuck, his skin was so smooth and warm; He pressed you closer, teeth bit into your collar bone before dragging his tongue over the marks he left.

You kissed your way down Val’s body. At his chest you lingered, leaving tiny red marks on the trail to his V-line. Valentino’s head lolled back on the couch as you unzipped his cock with all of its dark hair. You put it in your hand, running your thumb over the leaking tip. He swore under his breath as you pumped him slowly, up and down up and down.

The warmth of your tongue dragged along his thick shaft. Your stomach gets a sharp squirm to it, same as your cunt. It’s hard to tell because of the drugs or how sexy Val looks with his legs wide open and his cock needy for your touch. Looking up at him, you’ve never wanted anything more in your life.

His breath hitched when you took him in your mouth. Your tongue twists and swirls around his cock, savoring the feeling of him hitting the back of your throat, making you gag. To try to calm that darling pain between your legs you rubbed your thighs together, but that didn’t help. All it served to do was make your cunt needier. You push his member deeper and deeper into your mouth; You moan into his sex, making him squeeze the palmful of hair he had in his hand tighter.

“You’re so good, Carino.” He says, breathless. You start to suck him faster, blowing and kissing and licking. Val kept sprinkling compliments throughout. It felt so good to be praised by him; All of those sweet things he’d save for everyone else, but never you. You’re so good, you’re so sexy, you take me so well, you’re so pretty, you make me so hard.

“‘M close.” He grabs your hair again, pulling your face in. Feeling devious, you pulled away, savoring the flustered look on his face. Val is huffing, fucked out, and dazed out of his goddamn mind on X.

“You can stand to wait a little longer Valcito~” You nip at the inside of one of his thighs, making his voice hitch into a falsetto. You dragged the tips of your fingers up to his sensitive stomach, mouth leaving a hard bite outline near his ribs. Tracing him was so wonderful, feeling all of those hard edges give into softness. Nursing on his neck, your thumb and forefinger followed his neck muscle and collarbone, dipping into their crevices.

“Valcito~” Your breath was hot against his neck. He mumbled something under his breath and tried to slip his hand into your panties. You caught his wrist and pushed it away, biting hard on his collarbone. You can wait.

Again your mouth found its way south, the want in your cunt becoming more and more painful. You took him in your mouth again, your saliva getting thick and syrupy. Val seized the opportunity and shoved your head down on his cock, chasing the release you denied him. Your teeth grazed his member before pulling away again. Val whined, his eyes pleading. A dark smile grew on your face before you took him again.

He let out a sharp breath and pressed his hands onto your scalp. You went faster, letting the flat of your tongue trace the vein on the underside of his cock. It was fun playing with him like this, having a little control with him for once. Val’s hands tensed in your hair when he warned you he was going to cum.

When he came he wailed, filling your mouth with his salty taste. Looking up at him, you opened your mouth. Val’s thumb traced your bottom lip, admiring his work.

“You look so good like this, Carino.” He huffed.

Pushing yourself from your knees you kissed Val, his seed still in your mouth. That’s all that took to make him go feral. He pulled you to his lap and laid you down, wrapping your legs around him. Without taking his mouth off yours he took his top off, ramming into your needy sex.

Fuck, Val was bigger than you thought he was. His pace was hard and fast, making you scratch your nails into his back. Your kiss tasted like everything good in the world- cum and grapefruit and cigarettes and cotton candy and euphoria. Both of you swallowed, pulling your faces away to catch your breaths. God, you were so wet, Val’s cock slipped in and out of you so easily and it felt so goddamn good. Better than any finger or cock or toy and it made you squeeze him tighter.

You pressed your forehead to his neck, mumbling nonsense. “I’m yours, I’m yours, I’m yours, I’m yours, fuck me, fuck me, fuck me, fuck me.” Val spat on his fingers and slipped his hands between the two of you. You didn’t know what he was going to do until you felt his wet fingers graze your clit. He got rougher with it once he found it, making you squeal and cum on him.

That didn’t stop Val though, and god did it feel good. He kept fucking you through your release, making you cum another two times. Your legs felt like jelly, body weak and weightless. The X was releasing its last wave of chemical joy as he fucked you, pleasure rippling inside of you. He came inside you, making you sob into his neck. Val pressed you closer to him, whispering in your ear as you felt your release drip out of your cunt.

“You’re so good baby, so good and pretty.” Pleasepleasepleaseplease, say the magic words.

“I love you, you’re my perfect girl, my pretty baby.” You came again.

His thrusts got sloppier and you could tell he was gonna cum again. “Please, please, please, let me be your favorite, I’ll be good, I’ll be good, I’ll be good.” You whimpered.

The anticipation of an orgasm built up, shivering and needy. Val grazed your face and kissed you, “Oh you’re my favorite, baby. My little sullen girl~” He held you closer, savoring the way you squirmed when you came together.

When he was done he stayed inside you. Val pressed his head on the couch beneath you. You traced the scratches you left on his back, feeling your high from the X begin to ebb. Your breath felt so heavy and your mind so fuzzy. That all didn’t matter though, Val wanted you now. He’d been inside you, kissed you, felt you, squeezed you, and couldn’t get enough. He wanted you. So what if it was only for the moment, so what if this meant you could disappoint him, so what if you’re only a place-holder until someone better comes. You’re the favorite.

#hazbin hotel #hazbin hotel smut #hazbin hotel x reader #hazbin hotel fanfiction #fanfiction requests #valentino #hazbin hotel valentino #valentino x reader #valentino x you #hazbin hotel imagine #the vees

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radioactive-earthshine · 1 year ago

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Bart's relationship to all of his civilian friends is really something that is god-tier, but his relationship to Preston really gets to me. Particularly when Bart really does go above and beyond just to make him happy.

I think back to Impulse #51 where we see Bart become interested in comics through Preston, and we also see Bart being a great friend by being attentive and just wanting to make Preston happy.

We find out that After-Life Avenger is a major fictional super-hero and comic in their world with Cherub as the main sidekick, it is Preston's favorite. Preston doesn't have issue #16 and he says he would do anything to have it. It is listed with a price of a whopping $23 in 1999 which in today's money is $30.72 - that's pretty steep for a single issue.

When asked what he was going to get Preston for his birthday he at first was completely blank until Helen helped him remember the conversation from earlier and he tears off of a mission with only one end game; to get Preston that rare comic only because he knows it will make him happy.

Look at how happy Bart is at having been successful in finding this comic, look at his face, look at his little daydream. He literally only wants to make Preston happy.

Also a side note we never find out how much Bart actually paid for this comic (or if he exchanged any cash for it). Bart's strongly hinted through his comics that Max does give him an allowance and Bart is shown buying things like snacks, games etc so he likely would have enough to buy it.

Also, as I like to say. "There's a lotta loose change in the world."

Either way Bart spent a long time finding it having had to go all the way to Seattle, WA from Manchester, AL to find it.

There comes a point in the comic where Bart is left with an opportunity to impress Preston by providing him with an even rarer Cherub figure when he finds it while cleaning up after a heist he apprehended. Instead of thinking about keeping it for himself due to its high collectable value, Bart's immediate thought is giving it to Preston and how much that would make him happy.

Ultimately Bart decides against it, as it would not be fair, but he did in fact think about it at first.

Bart does so much for Preston in his comic; everything from being willing to out himself as Impulse to report his abuse, performing petty crime, running around everywhere to find a comic he knows he will like and being tempted to blatantly steal for him.

Bart loves his friends so much.

#bart allen #impulse #flashfam #preston lindsay #okay to tag as ship #bart/preston #bartpreston #mine

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neonfretra · 5 months ago

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nhl teasm...

my team loyalties immediately dissolve in favor of the funniest possible outcome. florida i will willingly curse you for a game seven sharks interview, vgk you mean nothing to me if it means the yotes sweep you, kraken you mean nothing to me if it means a sharks shutout, the san jose sharks will never be usurped in the chain of preference because they are gods personal sacrificial lamb and every joy they experience is like blood in the water and my heart hungers like a mouthless stomach.

for sake of readability i refer to teams by name here, sorry if this shows up on your favsies team tags </3

every single team WILL be discussed in terms of the sharks . be warned .

nhl teams tier list below the cut because i yap too much for a cute graphic. our conversations arent long but you know what is. its this. dont talk to me at all, actually.

MY teams!!!

San Jose Sharks

san jose sharks u are the only thing that has ever mattered 2 me. pickles cup on the HORIZON and RAPIDLY APPROACHING.

MY GIRLS......!!!!! if you want to love a team make a primer about them. i think of everything hockey relative to the sharks. i can name most of their players.! (it takes me genuine conscious thought to tell apart cmd, drai, lars because of their similar facial hair for reference. luke kunin and justin bailey though NO PROBLEM ^_^)

fighting team through and through! who CARE if we down two and got twenty seconds remaining, players WILL be gunning down the ice...! its always a bit of a shock to watch other teams just kinda. wander about?

people who like winning will tell you that the important part of the sport is winning. wrong! it is HONOR and WHIMSY. and sometimes IMMENSE AMOUNTS OF NIHILISM . i think its good for you to root for a basement team. really gets you out of that winning is everything mentality cause if i got my feelings too wound up about how the sharks performed i would not have a blood pressure measurable by conventional means anymore

also, nothing on this team is permanent. i look at old rosters and can name like. five of them. we made the MOST moves at the trade deadline. every single captain has had trade rumors going around about them. somehow, we are still living on the high of that game seven. you know the one.

there are four people in the lb tag on a good day. if you are joining the sharks fandom hi! ^_^ sorry for takin your favorite guy!

BEST DRESSED TEAM IN THE LEAGUE!!! our logo? CUNT. our teal? CUNT. our cute little teal helmets to go with visiting uniforms? CUNT. our black alternate jerseys? CURSED AS ALL HELL. also, CUNT. over 5% of our wins this season happened in the califin jersey which is to say ONE GAME. and we looked GOOD AS HELL doing it. year one of the team, sharks sold the MOST merch in the league because our logo before the current logo? CUNT.

i think the sharks makes me a worse person.

Seattle Kraken

my first team! ^_^ really awesome and active community on tumblr, i really like the community wide decision to be whimsical through thick and thin, if you want to get into hockey id definitely suggest them !!! sports are a social interest to me <3

also, one of the best dressed teams IMO! LOVE the red accents (& how they use black in their visiting jerseys), and especially a fan of how their goalies gear picks up on it!

also, the pride runs deep team, the put a tentacle on a pride flag dont even need to mention its for hockey team

also, i love their fish toss. the past tense of yeet is NOT yaught.

i recognize a quite a few of their players! unfortunately, quite a few of their players are prone to injury. hope they resign QUITE A FEW OF THEIR PLAYERS. ^_^

Vegas Golden Knights

HEEL TEAM!!! hate them or love them you NEED them for your narratives. and GOLLY do people hate them! this has made me root for them more. haters be strong, but by god i stay stronger xoxo

a team you DEFINITELY need a sense of humor to love publicly tho. this blog SUPPORTS taking weeks if not months long sick leave <- literally a sharks fan, if u arent feeling 100% get your rest AND get your paycheck im so serious

i think they need to DOUBLE DOWN on being the most las vegas thing to ever be outside of las vegas! they got glittery gold jerseys! pyrotechnics on every home goal! the big tacky slot machine! gold helmets! the whole opening segment! vgk become the disney villain team u were always meant to be!

also, tomas hertl is on this team. tomas hertl i miss u. everyone may be mad gm mike grier traded him to a franchise rival but hes a wizard TO ME for getting ltir resident hertl to a team he wanted to be on!!! please win a cup for tommy vgk

sharks exwifes teams

Tampa Bay Lightning

anthony duclair you are just as beautiful as you were the day i lost you ...

also, i am LEGITIMATELY infatuated by their storm jerseys (image from the unofficial nhl uniforms database)

girl i want you so bad

would you believe this jersey personally shot up my opinion of them

Dallas Stars

joe pavelski makes me feel hit song "its over isnt it" from show steven universe emotions. hes THE shark exwife. hes been gone for 5 years (goinf on six!) and every time we play against the stars they keep having long lingering shots on pavs and randomly bringing up how hes SUCH a great player ohhhhh pavs youre the greatest thing we have ever lost... they do this after someone else has scored a goal btw LMAO. i genuinely get surprised when i watch a cast with the stars that ISNT lingering on pavs. have a good retirement pavs <3

the second player i recognized the face of on the stars was mason marchment because he has piercing blue eyes and strikingly dark eyebrows. hes orbs.

i think their plaioffs thing was funny as hell. i dont even read it like. ai as in artificial intelligence, ive been reading pl-eye-offs. theyre funny for that + getting dragged for it, apparently? i hope they do it again (& get dragged again)

im sorry dallas stars for personally cursing you to lose round 2.

im also sorry dallas stars for writing almost entirely about joe pavelski here . he haunts the sharks so bad. i actually did start rooting for the stars because of him though LMAO

HI ID ALSO LIKE TO ADD THAT WE GOT TY DELLANDREAS FROM THIS TEAM! i love snatching everyones beloved players this cant keep happening

my friends teams (that i have imprinted on like a duckling) ^_^ hey speakin of ducks

Los Angeles Kings

BEST PENALTY KILL IN THE LEAGUE! <- dont fact check me

i like making up silly ways of referring to game terminologies and the kings are an endless supply of on theme jokes <3

.i was made fond through word of big save dave and i personally love watching everyone shadow box with the ghost of la kings

i regularly followed them in the regular season ^_^ and then the post season happened .i think i may have cursed them terribly

PLEASE LET YUOR YOUNGER PLAYERS IN . PLEEASDE.

Anaheim Ducks

team i am fond of but never watch the games of because they overlap with every other team i watch LMAO

i was um. also made fond of them through their goalies. i may be predicable. THEE if a goalie makes more than 50 saves in a game and still lose then they have the right to chase they team around with a machete team

but maybe the REAL way to my heart is a team that is healthy (do you remember healthy centers and veteran presence) and law abiding (one of the most penalized teams) that loves doing things like completing passes (um. <3) . which you will

also, witnessed the funniest exchange on one of my posts of like. two or three people? realizin that the ducks new logo is a duck foot

also, i think the seattle series has been one of the most bizarre series of events ive watched by far

Minnesota Wild

you are like an in law to me

TO BE COMPLETELY HONEST. wild is like up there as one of tumblrs popular teams to me! alongside the kraken and. the pens? idk i stay to ONE corner of the internet (the sharks) i think the community is very sweet :)

also, i think the 7-10 game with the canucks was hysterical, that was the only time ive watched back a game and it was worth it 100%

also, i have drawn one of your players with cat ears its OVER for nyall

Edmonton Oilers

i know nothing about your players. darnell nurse 5 own goals i wambt you

ANOTHER TEAM YOU NEED A SENSE OF HUMOR TO LOVE PUBLICLY .! godspeed oilers mutuals yall are like a beautiful ant raft to me. hold on tight together! ^_^

also, we beat the oilers this year and are noted career low for a guy named cmd if you know him . IDK hes a lil underground . so like. >:3

sharks exwives teams the sequel

Calgary Flames

nikita okhotiuk you are the worlds funniest girl to me. gets traded on the trade deadline, plays 9 games total, BREAKS IIHF RESTRICTION TO PLAY FOR CSKA MOSCOW. WORD ON THE STREET THEY STILL WANT HIM BACK. i dont know nothing about the flames otherwise LMAO guys . guys i miss okhie . my turnover princess.... .

i feel like everyone i know has beef with them. um. my beef is that they scored 13 against the sharks that one time in 1993.?

please god stop playin scary

Pittsburgh Penguins

exwife exhead coach/cheerleader david quinn i miss you and your web of connections and networkin like no other...! seriously he knows like. everyone. gets along with everyone and has a strange and unusual beef with sweet cousin kevin labanc. .and hes connectionsing and networkining out there with the pens! ^_^ comin full circle if you even CARE!!!

i root for these teams for absurd reasons

Ottawa Senators

i root for them when idc about who they against because theyre my brother in basement

Nashville Predators

roman josi

i have pavlovs dogged myself into getting hype as hell over him from this image. no i dont want to talk about it

i could not pick him out of a lineup BTW this is the only photo of him i look at

i think they could afford to be even more yellow in uniform

if you asked me to tell you one thing about this team id genuinely run empty

its all goalies and sharks associations . i have nothing to defend myself with here

Carolina Hurricanes: i know like... 3? of your players who are deeply endearing to me and nothing else. yeah one of them is a goalie can you look the other way please (pyotr kochetkov, seth jarvis, brent burns)

Detroit Red Wings: alex lyon is on this team! i miss radim simek . hes not dead we just snatched him off the cuda captaincy and sent him to detroit.

Philadelphia Flyers: they have gritty on this team and also sam ersson!

Arizona Coyotes/Utah Somethings: i thought their yotes logo was the cutest thing :( they matched with the roadies! honestly massively bummed we dont get the yotes on account of WILD as hell management decisions utah somethings is NOT a snub btw, ive seen the sharks cast refer to them as that and i think its really funny. the blue in the uniforms is cute though ^_^

St. Louis Blues: we series swept them! sorry stl anything for tommy

Boston Bruins

Buffalo Sabres

New York Islanders

Vancouver Canucks

Montreal Canadiens

Chicago: i know two different people that said they played better hockey wearing a chicago jersey . their opinions of this differ WILDLY. if you play hockey, consider it. for science.

i regularly forget/confuse these teams

Winnipeg Jets+Columbus Blue Jackets

i forget the cbj exist regularly igm so sorry. i confuse them with the winnipeg jets because i keep thinkin theyre both planes. who i also gorget with astonishing regularity . i dont know nothing about either them beyond that

Florida Panthers

i genuinely have a really hard time telling them and the preds apart????? NOT EVEN THE SAME COLORS BUT OKAY!

darling of the playoffs RN i think! i like the playoffs, everyone gets so mean LMAO

keep fans in your thoughts at this time because BOY HOWDY. THEY NEED IT.

Toronto Maple Leafs

I FIRGOT THEY EXISTED TOO. I WAS SCROLLING NHL DOT COM SLASH TEAMS TO MAKE SURE I GOT THEM ALL AND . THEY ARE AT THE BOTTOM BECAUSE I GORGOT THEM. IM SORRY TORONTO MAPLE LEAFS. also, mario ferraros childhood team ^_^

i dont hate them BUT...

New Jersey Devils

but also one half of an employee mackblack said they had him play before he was totally ready to come back on an injury ONSE TIME!! and ive not trusted them since

also one half of an employee kaapo kahkonen is on this team! he played 6 games, lost 4, got injured in 2, and the only game hes won was his season first shutout.

they have VERY pretty promotional graphics and also eyebrows

a lot of sharks go to the devs and vice versa which is always really funny ^_^ we got at LEAST four devs-to-sharks guys off the top of my head (we traded okhie and got vitek vanecek, maintaining the delicate balance of it all) and the devs got timo mimo. who also got very pretty eyebrows. timo mimo...

New York Rangers

but hey what are they doing to exwife barclay goodrow over therr . when i said i wanted him to win a third cup i didnt mean i needed him to do it in the era of the pickles comeback . his um??? his contract terms???

nyr yuo are nothing to mme and i wish five thousand years of famine upone you . san jose sharks i do NOT think we shoulda been able to do this. its just a workers rights thing hello

Washington Capitals

but CAP FRIENDLY. GIVE IT BACK. actually seething with rage at this new development. you must understand . if you want to love a team make a primer about them. if you want to love accessible databases write a primer.

also WAIT WAIT BEAUTIFUL FAILHORSE PIERRE LUC DUBOIS IS ON THIS TEAM NOW? please make sure you give him a sparkly star sticker if he does well a game and also peel his tangerines for him and also

#neon etcetra

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disturbnot · 3 months ago

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——— VERSES

main / pkmn — if you think you don't know him, you've probably seen him somewhere without realising it. he's your champion! he's your chosen one. he's your saint and saviour. or is he really the reason the world around you is shivering apart, little bit by little bit? he couldn't tell you as a child, and he still couldn't tell you now. this beleaguered old legend still ambles from lead to lead on his path to some kind of ultimate understanding, some kind of zenith to his messianic condition. he doesn't know what he's for, but that's okay, he knows you don't know what you're for either. the learning curve never ends. this ash can be encountered almost anywhere in the pokémon world, known to regularly drift from region to region, gig to gig, battle to battle, apocalypse to apocalypse. surely, one day, this curse will lift ... won't it?

supernatural — ash is a drifting, wayward hunter from the south-west, son of a hunter and a restaurant owner. his father passed when he was young, and during the same incident, ash became the willing vessel of the god quetzalcoatl, granting him vast power and a unique kinship with the natural world. he seeks vengeance for his father, but has become cognizant of the primordial gods' schemes and also seeks to confront and punish them.

the boys — think pokémon if they were just v'd up animals - that's it. ash grew up in a suburbian town in japan, near the site of a vought international r&d lab headed by his best friend's grandfather, and found out a little more than he should have as a young child. during an intrepid peek into oak's research lab, ash not only received a hefty dose of compound v, but managed to free one of the animals the lab had been experimenting on; a large, semi-sentient mouse with the power to conduct and discharge electricity. this event forced ash's mother (also being targeted by the yakuza for business protection) to take him away on the run. he and his mother have been weaving in and out of encroaching threats from vought and other bodies of organised crime ever since. ash seeks vengeance upon vought, both for his accidental exposure to v, and for the disappearance of his father (who may have been an unfortunate test subject in the 90s). ash has gained powers from v that seem to amplify with time and training. the simplest way to explain him would be if goku swapped out the disciplined martial arts training for slugging whiskey and throwing caution to the wind.

star trek — half-human, half-klingon, all golden retriever energy. this gung-ho starfleet prospect has never passed an exam, but exceeds in idealism, imagination, and practical xenozoology. all he's ever wanted is to see the stars and to see all of the fantastical creatures roaming out there in space ... sadly, his exam results never quite etched that fate into the stars for him. working the bars of various low-tier starships will have to do.

modern / fandomless — maybe you saw him on your tv in the early 2000s, one of the many pro wrestlers that lit the world on fire during the height of the craze. it's a pity that impassable injury cut his tenure in the ring all too short. this retired fighting performer has relegated himself to a steady but uneventful life helping his beloved mother run her snack bar, wishing that he'd taken up a career in animal care.

cowboy / western — nobody can really give you an exact date of when ash rolled into town, or when his local ranch practically bloomed out of the arid ground, but it seems like he's been there since anyone can remember. he's never done any harm, he's a kind and hardy man, known mainly to mind his business and ranch his prized cattle. rumour has it though, his ranch house is simply teeming with animal life; from his herding dogs, to his ratting cats, to his hunting birds. some say there are creatures in that home that man has never seen before, but hey, that's just a local rumour spun by bored tavern-wives... right?

new verses to be added! (rgg, monster hunter, and star wars verses coming soon)

#▸ lord rid me of my word vomit. / ooc #verse time #god FINALLY i scratched these up #we've got. spn. the boys. star trek. and some other fandomless stuff!#one more menial back office task scratched off the list. can i get a helled yeah

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harlowtales · 10 months ago

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Chapter 4 - Final Revenge

Y/N gains the upper hand on well…everyone ❤️‍🔥 🎨

18+ Adult Themes - romance/drama/language

“Y/N I’m so glad you called I came right over” the bartender said. Last time you saw him he was trying to break you and Jack up, conspiring with Jack’s female friends. If everything was going to go according to plan to get back at them you had to reel him in.

“I missed you. After Jack and I broke up I…” you started to say.

“Yeah about that..” he attempted to say.

“Let’s not talk about all that. How are you? Class isn’t the same since we don’t sit near each other.” You said pretending to seem upset.

“What are saying Y/N? Do I finally have a shot?”

“You always did silly.” You joked sexily “Want to go to the Drake and Cole concert with me?”

“Do I! YES” he said excitedly

“Ok great it’s tonight. Meet me at the South entrance ok?” You said

“Awesome thanks Y/N. What will Jack say?” He asked

“Do I look like I care?” You said rolling your eyes. It worked. He was hooked.

Later that afternoon you met Jack to go for couples counselling.

“Y/N why are we here on the day of my show?” Jack complained “I should be at sound check.”

“You said this was important to you too.” You reminded him. Just then you got called into the office. The session was great for you to get a bunch of issues off your chest but Jack kept bouncing his left leg impatiently wanting it to be over to hit the arena.

“Could you have been anymore disinterested?” You said angrily as you both left the therapist’s office.

“Baby. I swear on a day when I don’t have to perform with my two god tier idols I’ll be fine.” Jack said pecking you on the cheek “Anyways is everything set for tonight?”

“Yup! All is going to plan.” You assured him

“Make sure nothing really happens. I’ll knock him dafuq out.” Jack said furrowing his brow.

“What about on your end?” You asked him and he seemed less sure. “Jack?”

“I think they think what they’re supposed to think.” He said a bit cautiously.

“This was your idea so don’t fuck it up or no happy life with happy wife.” You threatened. “I will not marry you and be terrorized by those little obnoxious cunts.”

“Damn baby tell me how you really feel.” Jack laughed

A line up around the block was starting to form. Jack quickly ran through soundcheck with Drake and you were waiting for your bartender friend at the south entrance.

On his way the bartender texted the girls in the chat.

Operation Get The Bag Chat 💬 🤑🤑🤑

Bartender: “I think I’m in. Y/N and Jack are super done. I’m meeting up with her right now and we’ll be together in Jack’s face!”

Girl #1: Amazing. Of course we’ll be in Jack’s section. I’m all dolled up. If not Jack then Drake or Cole ☺️

Girl#2: Cole is married. Like super married 💍

Girl#3: Yeah we know. Sugar Daddy is the aim 🍭🙌🏽

Girl#1: K I’m here. Let’s enjoy the fruits of our labour ladies! We did it!! Jack and Y/N are done and now it’s may the best woman win…by best I mean me…respectfully.

Bartender: Well I got Y/N that’s all I ever wanted 🥹

Girl#3: You can have Y/N she is too much all up in her little corner studying at parties. Girl is a joke. Jack is a star. He needs to be with someone like me to match his shine ✨She always dressed like a nun.

Bartender: Well you don’t have to show everything all the time. Men like a little mystery.

Girl#1: Remind me to exit you from this chat when our mission is complete cuz you too slow to be in here 🙄 See y’all in 10mins.

Girl#2: I’m already backstage! I just met Drake and Jack invited us to the afterparty of course. It’s at 21C! I hope you know we could snag a billionaire tonight ladies! Jack is fine but he small time 😒

Girl#1: Yeah we been knowing Jack. Time to level up ⬆️⬆️⬆️⬆️⬆️⬆️

You connected with your bartender friend and headed into the show. You walked by all the girls in Jack’s section who just looked you up and down and laughed at you because you were on the crowd side of the barricade. They thought they were in and you were out. One of them was holding Pups and that really hurt.

As Drake and Cole came out they had to act like they didn’t know you or see you in the crowd. The bartender stood behind you in a boyfriend stance for a lot Drake’s love songs. Jack had to not show he was losing his mind. He went into the green room to let out his negative energy with Urban calming him down.

“Fuck! He’s standing right behind Y/N with his hands on her hips!” Jack fumed.

“Remember it’s all worth it to teach these bitches a lesson.” Urban reasoned. “Besides you’re up soon. You gotta get it together.”

Jack got his head back in the game. He put his earpieces in, grabbed his mic, and walked the hallway to the stage where he would walk out. He saw Y/N in the front and the bartender cozied up to her. He looked past them out in the crowd and everyone was whispering about her being there with another guy and Jack pretending not to notice. This was definitely going to be on Instagram in about 10 more minutes if it wasn’t already. The girls backstage were eyeing the whole situation delighted.

“Poor baby Y/N. Jack hasn’t even looked at her.” One of them said sarcastically.

Y/N decided to have a little fun and piss Jack off. He hadn’t always been faithful so she had some fun and got back at Jack too. She threw her ass back on the bartender and twerked into him as he held his own and stood behind her with a big smile on his face. Jack’s face was red as he seethed with anger as he rapped his part of Churchill Downs. He shot several looks their way and was resisting the urge to jump into the crowd and beat down the bartender. The girl’s in Jack’s section backstage noticed he was getting angry.

“Guess Jack is still jealous.” They scoffed. “She definitely isn’t invited to the afterparty after that behaviour.

After the show, Y/N and bartender slipped out to head to the afterparty. The bartender texted the girls to say they were in fact going that according to Y/N Jack said it was only fair since she did so much work with Drake and Cole’s teams. There was a couple hours before the afterparty would go down.

“That was so fun! Did you see Jack’s face!?” You giggled

“Bro wanted to kill me!” The bartender said laughing

“Let’s grab something to eat.” You suggested“Quidoba or Indis?”

“Imma go Indis” He said “Y/N I…Ummm…I’m having a good time.”

“You know what? Me too.” You said because honestly you were. It was kind of nice to not have the pressure of being Jack’s girl and enjoying a show like a fan. Just then you got a text from Drake.

“Baby girl I better see you later.” He said

Then Cole hit you up. “Thanks for everything. I don’t do after parties. I’m headed back to the fam. We gotta talk about your art tho. You mad talented.

“OMG. Cole wants to talk about my art.” You gasped.

“That’s dope!” The bartender exclaimed “You deserve it Y/N”

You started to feel bad playing this game with him as you could see he really liked you. “Look, I need to let you know. I love Jack. I am in love with Jack.” You said

“You think I don’t know that.” He said “I see it, but I was a winner tonight.”

You took a selfie together and he posted it to IG immediately. This set the internet on fire. The Shade Room reported breaking news that you and Jack were over. Had this little charade for a little clap back gone too far?

Jack texted. “You taking this too far Y/N.”

“Relax it was just dancing.” You replied

“Maybe for you but dude was all up on your ass.” Jack spat back. “Fuck that guy, and now this fucking selfie?”

“Cole wants to talk about my art!” You texted in excitement.

“Dope.” Jack said flatly as he was so mad he could barely control it, but his short answer made your heart sink.

“What’s wrong?” The bartender asked concerned

“Nothing. You ready?” You said. Jack and the girls had to be taught a lesson.

All the girls and Jack’s crew arrived and took their spot in the party. It was in a private suite at the 21C Hotel. Jack was friends with the eccentric owner of the art themed hotel. Jack had a surprise for you. The owner was to unveil a collection of your work at the party. There was a special exhibition under black drapery. When you and the bartender arrived Jack couldn’t wait to talk to you. It was worrying him that this whole situation was getting out of hand.

“Meet me in the bathroom.” He texted you.

“I have to run to the bathroom.” You said to the bartender and excused yourself. Jack was waiting for you and quickly locked the door.

He pressed you into the door and kissed you hard and deep. “Remember who you belong to Y/N” he said breathlessly

“Jack stop.” You said “It’s just a game remember?”

“Is it?” He asked quizzically “You sure it’s just about the girls?”

“Of course.” You lied “Besides it’s kinda nice to have someone crush on you so hard.”

“I am your man. Don’t forget that.” Jack said firmly

“Oh like how you seemed to forget sometimes that I am your girl?” You shot back

“Y/N…that’s not me anymore. You have to believe that.” Jack begged.

“I will when those bitches are put in their place. Especially the one you were with.” The pain in your voice was still at the surface.

“I will do anything for you.” Jack said “Anything…just say yes to me.”

You walked back out into the party. The bartender had a drink waiting for you with a smile and put his arm around you. Jack sure was getting a taste of his own medicine and it hurt like hell looking at you with another guy. You felt his intense gaze on you and leaned into the Bartender sexily flirting and laughing at nothing. He realized now more than ever he would never be the same if you left him. How could he ever criticize you for not wanting to hang out with those girls especially when he had cheated with one of them. Sure you guys were on a break and he was high but it was no excuse. Then there was a couple on the road. He was determined to do right by you.

The girls were working the room trying to see which eligible bachelor they could latch onto. One of them was trying to get Drake into her, but he was interested in catching up with you. “What’s up with you and Jack.” Drake asked you.

“Oh you noticed?” You asked him.

“Yeah of course. I thought this was going to be some fun little game to get back at some chicks, but my man looks devastated.” Drake said motioning over to Jack.

“Jack and I are…figuring things out.” You offered vaguely.

“Y/N he loves you.” Drake said plainly “Don’t ever doubt that.” Drake left you speechless as he went to continue mingling and settle behind the DJ booth.

“Can I get everyone’s attention please.” Jack announced “We got something special for someone special. Raise your glasses for a toast to someone I can’t say enough about. She is my reason for getting up in the morning. My life has never been the same.”

One of the girls that Jack had been with on Y/N was getting ready to receive her praise. She started walking towards him to stand beside him.

“Y/N if you can come to the front please.” Jack said stopping the girl in her tracks in embarrassment. Her friends were all looking around in shock. Everyone thought Jack and Y/N were over.

You made your way to stand beside Jack. “Y/N the 21C wants to unveil this exhibit of your art.” With a cue to drop the drapery a beautifully curated exhibit of your paintings was revealed. The owner of the 21C shook your hand and the room erupted in applause as camera’s flashed.

“Jack I…Ummm. Thank You so much.” You said “How did this happen?”

“We loved your work so much we bought the whole collection.” The owner said “Congrats”

“Jack OMG!!” You exclaimed, hugging and kissing him. The girls drew gasps of horror. What was happening? This was not according to their plans.

“Oh one more thing.” Jack continued “I want to talk about friendship for a sec. There’s some real ones here tonight, and some not so real ones.” The crowd started murmuring and looking around as if trying to identify who Jack was about to put on blast.

“Some people found it in their best interest to break me and Y/N up. Well I’m here to say, Y/N, I’ve asked you now at least 20 times. Will you marry me?”

Urban led the puppy out on a her pink diamond fancy leash for special occasions with the engagement ring around its neck. “Awwww” the crowd said to the cute scene. Jack took the ring from the puppy and went down on one knee as had done almost every other day since you ran out of the barn crying refusing to say yes.

“I’ll get rid of those girls over there and do all the counselling you want, even if there’s a soccer game on.” He said

“Whoah you doing too much now.” Urban said at Jack’s soccer comment.

Jack pointed out the girls who were trying to shrink away and hide their faces. “Actually security can you escort them out so we can enjoy the party?” To his orders they were promptly removed and humiliated as it was live streamed.

“Yes Jack.” You said calmly as now it finally felt right. “Yes. I will marry you.” Jack was ecstatic. He picked you up and twirled you around and planted a long kiss on you.

Your bartender friend smiled at the whole scene. He knew Jack was your whole world. He didn’t tell you but right after graduation he was leaving town for an internship at a gallery in New York. He had wishes you would consider leaving with him, but he could see there was no way you were leaving Jack. He had no plans of playing second fiddle to Jack and was just grateful for the time he had with you. He decided to leave quietly and exit from the group chat with the girls who had taken to IG and Twitter to launch a smear campaign against Jack that he knew would be coming.

TMZ breaking news⁉️: Jack Harlow Proposes to Ex GF in Same Night She Shows Up at Concert With New BF!

“Mom!” Jack said as he called his mom to tell her the good news

“Oh hey hunny! Congratulations!” His mom said

“Thanks Mom.” Jack said

“I’m so happy I’m finally going to be a grandmother.” She said

“What? No, Y/ N said yes.” Jack said confused

“Oh yeah yeah that’s what I meant.” His mom back tracked.

“Mom?” Jack questioned “Is Y/N pregnant?”

“Well maybe… well yeah. We did a home test. Sorry hunny you weren’t supposed to know until we took her to a doctor. She came to us to tell us and let us know seeing as you broke up she didn’t want it. Hunny we had to talk her out of not having it” She said. “We were so hoping and suggesting you get married because your grandmother doesn’t want you having this child out of wedlock. Y/N is the daughter I never had. To see her in such distress…I had to help her and keep her secret.”

“It’s ok mom. I understand. Thanks for being there for my girl.” Jack thanked her.

“Y/N” Jack turned to you. “Why are you drinking ginger ale in a champagne glass?”

“Just tryna stay sober like my man.” You said snuggling up to him.

Jack took a better look at you and noticed a slight curve in your stomach. He was over the moon inside. He hugged you from behind and rubbed your tummy.

“Boy or a girl?” He said in your ear.

“How do you know?” You said shocked

“Should’ve made my mom sign an NDA” he said

“Ah shit” You groaned

“Congrats dog.” Drake came up to Jack and patted him on the back. You ready for all this? Marriage…kids”

“Drake knew?” Jack said incredulously

“Duh we’re besties.” Drake said rolling his eyes

“Don’t roll your eyes like that. I have PTSD from those bitches.” You said laughing.

Drake said “I have PTSD from one of them trying to rap for me.”

@itsyagirljaz @ride4harlow @okaaay-mice

#jack harlow #fanfic #romance #jackman thomas harlow #jack harlow fanfic #dramatic #jack harlow smut #jack harlow concepts

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