#his name is Nils and I love him

[hoperays-song]

Top 5 shipping tropes? Or if you prefer, a top 5 character tropes I'm also v curious about

Ooooooo, I take it back, this was the hardest one to decide for each. I mean, obviously my favourite trope is found family because it's perfect and adorable, but I do love so many others. And we will be ignoring what each of these say about me mentally, ok? Ok. Good.

-<3 Gooseless

Shipping troupes:

Hurt/Comfort (especially emotional hurt/comfort but also sickfics) is my absolute favourite. I use it in legitimately all of my ship based fics, all of them, without exception. It's everywhere. And the characters taking time to take care of each other and to help each other no matter the impacts on their lives because the other is more important? Literal chills every single time.

Slow Burn is also in legit all of my fics because I don't know how to write a faster romance to save my life. Also, I get really confused in fic where characters get together in less than 3,000 words, the aroace autistic brain over here honestly just doesn't get it and idk why it doesn't. Plus seeing the characters fall in love over time is just super heart warming because of that progression.

Sharing a Bed/Platonic(?) Cuddling are always together so they get listed together and I adore them both. It's typically done so so well and for characters whose love language is Physical Touch its just so cute. It's just cute ok?

Domestic Fluff is just so nice because you get to see how the characters interact in day to day life. It always just warms my heart to see them adding the other to their daily routines or admiring the others quirks. Like it's just so sweet to see them making space for the other in their life.

Friends to Lovers is genuinely amazing in my opinion because you get to see them falling in love with the entire person, not just their faults or their good side, or their appearance. They know each other and trust each other and fall in love because of that.

Character Tropes:

Ok, I'm not sure if these are actual character tropes but oh well, you guys will hopefully get what I mean by these.

Scary Looking Parental Characters Undoing Years of Generational Trauma is like one of my all time favourites if my found family posts never tipped you off. Also, I do write a ton of parental figures using this trope. Like a ton (Marcus, we're looking at you here).

Siblings Not by Blood but by Heart always makes me cry. Like choosing to be someone's sibling and to stick with them through everything is just always an amazing dynamic.

Autistic Coded Burnt Out Overachiever is just one of the best tropes of all time. And this isn't at all indicative of my kin list being primarily made of these characters, don't worry about it.

Mentor Figure Who Becomes Parental Figure is just super realistic and super heart warming. Like a character decided to train or teach this other character and ending up becoming their lifeline? Perfection. And definitely needs to be used more.

Fallen Heroes are another super relatable one because of how we watch them go from starry eyed to hardened by reality is just always so moving. And yes, I loved the Creation from Frankenstien, I named him Nils and he's my son and nothing was truly his fault.

My least fav troupes of all time are always misunderstanding/miscommunication (as it can typically be easily avoided) and manic pixie dream girl (this tope pisses me off so much I could legit rant about it for hours). At least those are my least favourites off the top of my head. I'm pretty picky about tropes at times tbh.

[gootube]

oh god....there's ..... two of them...

on the left is adánor, on the right is nil

[erosiism]

A CASE OF REGRETS | YANDERE DUKE X M!READER.

prompt: you die during a rebellion, and he turns back time for you in desperation | reader is childhood friends with claude (OC), both are planning a rebellion to usurp the throne.

character(s): duke, you

warnings(s): nil

note(s): male reader, second person, past tense, not beta read, excerpt from my fic on wattpad, to make amends

FIND MORE MOMENTS OF CLAUDE AND THE READER HERE.

"Y/n!"

Blood spurted out.

"Y/n!"

Your vision blurred.

"Oh gods, are you okay? Are you—"

Your ribs hurt: were they broken? Bloodied? You could certainly taste the horrible taste of iron present in your tongue. It was clear to you that somehow you were dying. That something had turned against you. That you were...

"Please, please, please—"

Through your muddled vision you could make out a figure. A familiar silhouette running towards you, legs stumbling in desperation, breaths ragged.

It was nice to know that when you died, someone would grieve for you. That someone would cry for you.

There was only one person in the world who cared so much for you.

"Claude," you murmured. There was a smile on your face. "There's no need to cry..."

"Y/n, please—no—"

"Save it." You sighed, "there's no way I'm going to be surviving this."

It was true. Blood jetted out of your wound in spurts, staining your tailored uniform with a bright, crimson hue. You had loved that color mainly because Claude had ruby eyes, but now it just seemed gruesome, horrid. Pain had simmered down into a steady brew, and you wondered if your pain tolerance had simply grown stronger, or it was a telling sign of your fading consciousness.

"You were such a brat last time." You murmured. "You used to throw tantrums and everything...for a while, I thought you despised me. Even when we became adults, you were still heartless, cold...so why do you weep for me? Why do you grieve my death?"

I was a fool last time, Claude thought silently. I was a fool. I was a fool not to have shown my affections last time.

Because the truth was plain and simple, written in ink, written in the stars: Claude adored you. Was it not you who had held his hand in the gardens for strolls? Was it not you who accompanied him throughout, was it not you who could make him crack a smile, make him laugh? It had been all you. Every single joyous moment he had was caused by you. When he had finally received the title of the Duke. When he had finally defeated his family and his foes.

But Claude had been so wrapped up in his own troubles he had failed to notice your problems. Your dastardly family. Your...

He had neglected your wellbeing—he hadn't seen your deteriorating state, your weakening smile—he hadn't see any of that. He had been self obsessed, too engrossed in his own matters that he hadn't even—

Claude had taken too long to warm up to you. He could have been sweeter earlier. Made your life easier, no matter what it was. Claude had taken a while to truly open his heart to you: he had been rude, ungracious, curt. And you had been patient. Endlessly patient with him.

"We can save you," Claude said desperately, "we can."

You laughed. A tinkling, magical sound—but at that moment, it was so damned. So fucking painful to hear the cracks inside, the strain hiding inside the tone.

He knew it would be the last time he would ever heard it.

"You are the Emperor. You finally reclaimed your right to the throne. You finally..."

"Y/n," he whispered.

You shook your head.

"You achieved everything you sought for."

Perhaps he did. But the thing he truly wanted had been in front of him this whole time and he had been blind. Utterly blind.

And he would never forgive himself for that.

The tears slipped. His voice felt suffocated; choking.

"Don't cry," you touched his cheek gently and that pulled Claude temporarily out of his panic—"don't cry, alright? It was inevitable, Your Grace. Don't cry. The future Emperor doesn't cry."

Your Grace. Even then, you hadn't referred to him by his name. If he had another chance—just one singular chance—

He would allow you to call him by his name.

You were his everything.

You're my heart, Y/n.

If you die, then that would make me heartless.

There was so much blood, Claude realized. Coating his palms, running down your back. So much of its thick texture, its color, all drenched. Every single bit drenched—

Why was there so much blood? It wasn't his. He  wasn't unhurt, really. He wasn't that well off, but not to your extent. You sounded so tired when you spoke, so faint. So weak. You could have disappeared any second. Claude held you in your arms softly, gently—you could disappear any moment, your breaths wavering and quivering.

No, no, no.

I love you, Claude thought deliriously. I love you. I love you. I love you so much—

The voice grew and became stronger; louder even as you grew cold. Claude rocked you even when your hands fell, holding one to his own cheek. Your hands still had the faintest bit of warmth. He clung onto it desperately; motionless with the tears dried up with his throat feeling like sandpaper.

You can't leave me, he'd thought deliriously, hugging you close and rocking you again and again and again, you can't leave me.

Y/n L/n, I love you too much to let you go.

.

.

Claude had failed to save you. In front of him, your beauty was still visible in his eyes; your (h/c) hair, your (e/c) eyes—because of his arrogance, his incompetence, you had unfairly died. He had not noticed the blooming feelings in his stomach until you had been cold in his arms, and his tears had splattered on your cheek.

The universe has been cruel to you.

He had stood by your side and had watched you suffer and suffer and suffer; and for what? Only for the gods to turn their back on you? What was the point, really? Claude had been with you this whole time. Had seen the sacrifices you poured in, had seen—

He should have been the one that died, Claude despaired. Not you. Never you.

That night he couldn't sleep. The place was too empty without you. He had been crowned Emperor. But there was no you to accompany him by his side.

There was...absolutely no point.

Why was he even alive at this rate? Claude wondered. Everything would go back to life before you. Tedious. Long. Meaningless.

"Your Majesty, the Empire—"

"—do whatever you want." Claude rasped out. "Just...just..."

Please. If the Gods are listening. Please, please—

Turn back time. For me, for Y/n.

For...

[ The Gods have heard your prayers ]

.

.

Turning back time was unheard of. Something in the legends. Something Claude didn't believe in. Yet when he woke up—there had been disappointment in him, he had assumed that this was heaven yet you were nowhere in sight—there was the familiar surroundings of a room.

Not the Emperor's bedroom.

The bedroom from the manor he once lived when he was the illegitimate son of the Duke.

I must be dreaming, Claude thought. There was a flicker of hope he didn't dare to believe in. I must be dreaming of the happier times and the million what ifs.

Pain was tugging at his heart. It was painful. Everything was painful...

"—don't bother him. He just recovered from a sickness."

What?

What?

Delusional. Hallucinating. Delirious. To hear your sweet, sweet voice in such a dream—perhaps this was heaven after all. Claude didn't ever want to wake up. He didn't.

Because you were there. In front of him.

He sucked in a breath.

As sweet, as polite as he remembered. Every inch of his face had been committed to his memory. Every contour, every line. He had mapped you out in his head and had aligned you with the thousands of dazzling stars in the universe because you were the reason he bothered to continue living. Because you had become his reason for living.

You stood, in regal attire, with your posture as graceful as he had remembered. The sunlight streamed in through the paneled windows, caressing your features and alighting upon your lashes. He swallowed, trying to remember how to breathe.

"Ah, you are awake, Your Grace." You smiled at him.

"Y/n L/n," he said finally. "Y/n L/n." It's been so long since he could say this name to someone who would hear and respond to it. So many times he called your name out of your desperation in vain: hoping for some sort of hallucination to pop up, for some sort of inkling that your voice would carry over to his ears.

And you smiled.

Smiled.

Smiled.

Smiled—

Claude reached out to you and buried his face into your clothes.

You gave a startled smile.

.

.

The Duke had done a 180 complete turn.

"Y/n," he spoke with uncharacteristic fondness that you just didn't understand, "you are..."

Tears. There were tears on his cheek. Had you done anything to offend him? You thought not.

"Your Grace..." you reached out to brush his forehead with your fingers, "are you alright? You don't seem to have a fever."

Claude stared at you with wide eyes.

"Oh," You heard him say, and then, "you are as beautiful as I remembered."

What?

"Your Grace, are you really sure you are fine—"

Claude dashed forward, not even registering your words. He crushed you in his arms, a hand in your hair, head buried in his neck. He missed this. This warmth and this scent. Home, home. It's the smell of home. It's the smell of you. It's you. It's you. It's you. 

It worked, he thought. It worked. It fucking worked. I traveled back in time. 

"... Well then," you gave a small chuckle, confused upon what was happening, "it's a relief to see you have awoken—why are you crying?"

"You're here," Claude breathed, his first tangible words since his return. "You're here."

"Of course I'm here, Your Grace." You looked at him with confusion etched all over your features, frowning. "What's wrong? You..."

The Duke was looking at you like you were the only one that mattered in the world. And that—

Wow. What kind of coma did he have, to be behaving so peculiarly?

You wiped his tears, sighing and fussing.

"You know what—never mind. Tell me later—why are you still crying, Your Grace?"

Claude held onto you tighter.

Maybe he had bad dreams in his coma, you thought. He was holding on to you like you were a lifeline. Like you would disappear any second, any minute.

As though he would never let go of you again.

You patted the Duke's head gently, slowly, fingers running through his hair. "Don't cry. The future Emperor doesn't cry."

Those words. It was so hauntingly painful to him.

Claude didn't want to remember anymore. He didn't  need to remember. He had succeeded. The Gods had listened to him. You were alive and breathing, in front of him. You were—

Alive.

reblog/like the post! comments are appreciated even if you read this before :)

[chukys-mouthguard]

eternal sunshine

-> sequel to ‘dumb & poetic’

we both know i couldn’t change you

1k words

genre -> angst/fluff

featuring -> quinn hughes x female reader; mention of nils hoglander

note -> not exactly proofread but needed to get something posted for you lovelies cause it’s been a minute 🤍

The image of Quinn walking out was one you’d never expect to erase from your memory. How easy it was for him to walk away from you, how little fight he’d put up to salvage things.

And despite what everyone said or thought, there was no changing him. His true colors had been shown and there was no going back. Though you had tried.

Despite the way he’d walked out and given up on you, something in you still felt like it was your fault. Like it was something you needed to apologize for or try hard to fix though you knew what the end result would be.

Text messages had gone unanswered but read, countless apologies falling on deaf ears as Quinn became cold. Eventually telling you to stop apologizing and being sorry for him no longer loving you. The words cutting like a knife, the idea of things being so easy to forget or toss aside something you couldn’t understand.

Once upon a time you saw yourself being with Quinn forever. The home you two shared maybe being filled with a family of your own one day. The future seemed so bright and exciting, then so quickly fell apart around you.

Moving out while he was gone on a road trip to make things easier on you, taking the steps to remove all the photos of you two from their frames since Quinn would probably never notice them and do it himself. Leaving your WAGS gear behind for Quinn to either toss out himself, or give to the next girl that would apparently soon take your place.

He never struck you as the type to move on quickly, which is why it made it so much more painful.

Photos of them plastered all over her social media, seeing her wearing his name and number; it broke your heart. While you’d grown close with so many of the wives and girlfriends, going to Canucks games weren’t the same. You’d go to show your support of Quinn’s teammates whom you’d grown close with, only to be reminded of how much you loved going and supporting Quinn. Despite the amount of Hughes jerseys that would fill the stands, and people chanting his name, you were always the loudest. You were always his number one fan, and now you simply blended in with those who’d cheer when he scored or made a great play. Having to put emotions aside and treat him like any other player.

But as time went on, it got easier. Your heart ached less and less when you saw him, the fear that would wash over you when Quinn got hurt began to subside, and you found a reason to start to be happy again.

As you waited with J.T Miller’s wife Natalie in the family area after another home game, you couldn’t help but notice Quinn’s new girlfriend. Her hand painted denim jacket adorned with Canucks colors, logos, and Quinn’s number making it painfully obvious who she was. You were sure she was a nice girl, but that didn’t change the fact that it still hurt how quickly she’d seemed to have replaced you.

And as Quinn soon appeared from behind the locker room doors, you watched as her face lit up. The same way yours used to when you’d see him, no matter the outcome of the game. You too were always so excited to see him.

A soft smile came across his lips as he noticed her, slowly walking over to wrap her in a hug. His eyes shifted their gaze from the floor immediately to you. But rather feeling your heart skip a beat, or your emotions start to overwhelm you, you simply offered him a smile before turning your attention back to the locker room doors as they opened once again.

And as he walked out to greet you, it was as if you’d forgotten Quinn existed. The interaction was washed from your mind as Nils grinned from ear to ear, wrapping you in a hug as you congratulated him on a great game. His arm remained wrapped around your waist as he kept you by his side while he talked to you and Natalie.

The entire situation not one you’d ever seen yourself being in, not the type to ever move on from Quinn with a teammate of his. But while you weren’t looking for anything like this to happen, with Nils it had somewhat fallen into place unexpectedly.

The two of you had always been friendly, as like many of Quinn’s teammates you had come to know each other well. Of course you never necessarily thought about or looked at Nils as anything more than a friend. But when things began to take a turn with Quinn, he was someone you confided in. Especially when Nils had been one to notice the changes in the two of you himself.

He’d helped you get things settled into your new place, never trying to make a move or shoot his shot with you. Just simply being there. Whether that was to surprise you with flowers and takeout on a rough day, sitting with you while you cried on your couch, or finally being able to bring some happiness back into your life.

Nils had done all of that and more.

The look on Quinn’s face as he’d seen you on Nils arm wasn’t one you expected. Despite how cold he’d grown towards you and moving on himself, he looked heartbroken. Sure, you could’ve moved on with anyone but of course it being his teammate would sting significantly more. And maybe now he’d started to feel the pain you felt the day he’d walked out on you.

He watched as the two of you headed off towards the parking garage, his girlfriend snapping him from his thoughts as she’d noticed him paying her little attention.

“Quinn, hello? You okay?”

Her smile was a bit uneasy, as she wasn’t sure what had Quinn looking so down. But he softly chuckled as he shook his head, placing a kiss on her head before leading her towards the garage.

“No, but, I will be.”

[atwhughesversion]

canucks whimsy does exist!!

i have seen the unfortunate and understandable narrative that the canucks have no whimsy this season and like…i get it. we did just go through a civil war that was all anybody would talk about in the hockey world for weeks, and the team is kind of unfortunate™️ this season in general. but our whimsy isn’t all gone! it’s not lost! here are a few things that i thought of from this year:

we are a math equation — 2 filips (both from czechia), 2 nils (both from sweden), 3 petterssons (all from sweden), 2 eliases (both from sweden and both of whom are also petterssons. also one of whom’s 2nd name is also nils)

i actually need a separate bullet point for the fact that we have 3 peteys, two of whom are named elias

the canucks defence coach (who the players call footie) is trying to nickname the 2nd elias pettersson (the youngest, but largest, of the petterssons) “junior.” it’s possible this may follow him for his entire career long after the other peteys are retired.

not only is our haunted captain nicknamed huggy, the others also love to hug. example: brock and demmer cuddling during practice the other day.

petey has a petey patch on his luggage 😭

we call them orcas!! they’re a pod!

rick tocchet wore the coziest fleece in the world to practice this season (we are trying to convince him to wear it again) (or i am at least)

we have an adorable team dog named eddie who everybody loves so much 🥲💞 [eddie meeting the team (and trying to eat petey’s hoodie), tocchet with eddie, new players meeting eddie after being traded for, petey proving eddie knows a trick — “oh he does! we got that on video!”]

bonus eddie fact: he and quinn have never been seen in a room together at the same time 🤨

quinn and lankinen both like reading and lanks was really excited when he signed w the team and found out he has a literate teammate 💓

petey’s alleged christmas gift for brock was a build-a-bear that had recordings of his teammates voices 🥲

garland named his son quintin, not after quinn hughes but after the jaws character [“Yeah, all the guys are giving him a hard time,” Quinn said after the Canucks practised for Saturday’s game against the Ottawa Senators. “But he named him after the movie, not me.”]. however, he did make quinn his son’s godfather.

[richarlotte]

New in the life?

One of my older friends is currently in some sort of flirtation with a major player, and I’ve been living for the gossip. None of it is particularly groundbreaking, but it is interesting, and I do think it’s worth reading. 

1. No OnlyFans, no Fansly, no FanFix, and no private Snapchat. The better the player, the more scrutiny is on the girlfriend, especially if he’s a good player at a good school. It’s the same with (most popular) players to an extent as well; your social media needs to be clean with nothing more than modeling photos, nothing that could be considered more than soft (bikini pics are okay, full lingerie shoots are not), and no other links. If you’re with someone who’s pulling in NIL, has sponsorships, or is going to go into the league, you can’t be a liability, and if you are, the team will shut it down immediately and make sure you get dumped.

2. These guys aren’t necessarily looking to get married, but they’re also more religious and a lot more controlling than you’d think. We have a friend who went from playing college basketball at a state school to the NBA; he makes just under $10 million (before taxes) every year, and we’ve always known him to be religious. It should be obvious by now what I’m going to say, but I’ll say it anyway: he and most of his younger teammates are players on the road, but they want to control the image of the girls they’re with publicly and use God and their potential to do that.

3. The bigger and better the team, the more they have to lose. These are players with millions of dollars attached to their names; these are men who sell merch and have fan groups, and there are people who have quite a bit of money tied up in the future of these men. The second you become a real issue, you’re going to be on your way out. You don’t mess with the money; you never mess with the money, and the only people who don’t understand that are people who know what it’s like to have money. You don’t mess with the contract, you don’t mess with the outcomes of games, and you do your best to fly under the radar of watchful eyes.

4. There are 100% handlers. Whenever she goes out on dates with him, they have to go to specific places, they have to be seen at certain events together, and they can’t do a lot of the activities you’d think they’d be able to do. He also has private accounts, he’s not allowed to post normally on his public social media, he’s not allowed to post with her, and he has to be careful about seeming devoted to the game. He’s under the impression (and probably has been told) that the big leagues will only want him if he’s unattached and completely devoted, so the man he makes himself out to be on social media and in interviews is very different than the man we’ve all met. He’s being told what to do by his coaches, their assistants, and by NCAA lawyers.

Again, nothing groundbreaking, but it’s interesting. I love seeing what goes on behind the scenes, and I think it’s fascinating to see the rules that the girls who are with the more popular players abide by in order to have a chance at any sort of situationship/relationship.

[tc9972]

Nils Höglander random textpost

1, A happy place for avid hunter Nils Höglander is quietly stalking a moose in the northern wildness of Sweden.

2, This ten-minute long video is mostly delightful. Höglander is pretty quiet and reserved with the media, largely because he’s dealing with not only a new team, but a new country and a language with which he’s still not fully comfortable. The video gives some insight into his personality and how his teammates view him.

But then, about two minutes into the video, there’s a moment that defies comprehension.

Höglander takes a water bottle and sprays both his socks and the inside of his skate before putting it on.

3, “I guess I have to say hockey is the hardest,” said Hoglander. “But if you’ve never been out in the forest or anything, it’s kind of hard to know what to do. If you bring Petey (Elias Pettersson) he would have no idea what to do, he’s a city boy.”

4, Q. Do you have a hidden talent? Music or cooking?

A. I’m not into music at all in doing it by myself (instrument). I would always say something outdoors. I’m a big unicycle guy. I have one. That’s my hidden talent.

5, Nils Höglander pulled in a decent crop of votes for the team’s biggest Swiftie, as he was nominated by Erik Brännström, Aatu Räty, and Elias Pettersson. He later claimed that “Love Story” was his favourite song by her. Höglander’s history with being a fan of Swift dates back to a TikTok posted last year, in which he said he’d rather meet her than her boyfriend, Kansas City Chiefs tight end Travis Kelce.

6, Nils Höglander Spotify Wrapped- “Viva La Vida” by Soppgirobygget

I don’t know what I expected but it certainly wasn’t this.

I guess I expected this to be a cover of “Viva La Vida” by Coldplay. Instead, it’s a dance track that interpolates “Misirlou” by Dick Dale, then throws in a bridge that’s basically just the chorus of “Whoomp! (There It Is)” by Tag Team.

This is a straight-up party song and it’s a lot of fun, even if the lyrics are hilariously crass. While mostly in Norwegian, there are a few English phrases thrown in, like “Bitch, make it clap.”

Here are a couple choice phrases from the song translated into English via Google Translate: “Big babes, big drinks, big asses make me happy,” “Shake the bum and I’ll post it on Snap,” and “I have a skull fracture and proven gonorrhea.”

7, Then there are the unicycles. Höglander has a knack for juggling while unicycling, as well as stickhandling while on a unicycle. It’s a talent shared by Pettersson, whose dad could ride a unicycle, so he taught himself to do it as well. 

“The unicycle thing is just for fun,” said Höglander. “I haven’t seen Petey yet, but I will have a match with him.”

“We haven’t had a battle yet,” said Pettersson, “or done it face-to-face but from the videos I’ve seen, he’s better. Sucks to say, but...”

8, There is no doubt about who is responsible for the cooking at the Pettersson/Höglander home.

– I take on the cooking, otherwise it won't be as good on the table, says Pettersson.

– He is careful about that so he has to be responsible for it, says Höglander.

What do you stand for then? – Put away the dishes. Luckily we have a dishwasher so it's easy, says Höglander. (Elias has also said that Hoggy used to cook rice like pasta, not measuring water or anything, b4 he stepped in to teach him better but I can't find the video)

9, "My friend found Höglander on Tinder... guess this means he’s in Vancouver already?"

10, It’s Hoagie, not Hoggy

Note the umlaut. It means the first syllable of the rookie’s name rhymes with brogue or doge, not log or dog.

11, And finally, here’s a fact that is bound to make many of you feel very old: Höglander’s birthday is December 20, 2000, making him the first Vancouver Canuck born after the millennium. Remember the Titans came out before he did; Gladiator and Almost Famous, too.

12, n the northern wilderness of his tiny village of Brocktrask, Sweden — population 20 hearty outdoor enthusiasts — you first have to stalk the very large and imposing moose. And that could take a lot of time.

13, The name “Nyssa” has many meaning, including “goal” (Greek) or “friendly elf” (Scandinavian). It is also Nils’ nickname with his SHL teammates. While Hoglander’s size may make him elf-like, he’s more feisty than friendly, taking a five-game suspension earlier this season for throwing a reverse elbow. Since the suspension ,he has been very productive as a 19 year old in the SHL, scoring four goals and three assists in 12 games.

14, So I was just texting with Nils Höglander and he has agreed to not score any goals against Canada at the World Juniors if we can find him some good fishing spots around Vancouver. — Chris Faber

15,

Achievements

Two-time SHL Goal of the Year (2019, 2020)

Won a bronze medal with Team Sweden at the 2020 World Junior Championship

16, Funny story. A couple of my friends who are into fishing decided to randomly invite Hoglander out fishing on the Vedder river during his rookie year through a DM on instagram. He ended up replying and saying he’d love to go. They ended up meeting up and spending a day out on the water and had a successful trip. They go out fishing still to this day"

17, "It all started back in Skellefteå, in northern Sweden, where he moved at age 11. The forward from Burträsk, who turns 18 on Thursday, spent much of his spare time with wheels under his feet.

”We spent almost every night during the summer playing street hockey. We played at the rink when the ice was melted for the summer, and placed hockey nets on the concrete. We had goalies and arranged tournaments. Sometimes we stayed until way past midnight”, Nils Höglander recalls.

The janitor of the small arena often didn’t know that Nils and his friends were there, they weren’t really allowed to hang out in the building as late as they did. When they couldn’t play at the rink they used a tennis court instead.

“It really was the highlight of the summer.”

18, Pettersson's gaming hobby didn't keep him from having a career year and he's certainly not the only Canuck to spend time playing Call of Duty. His fellow Swede, Nils Höglander, evidently also spends a fair amount of time playing Call of Duty. He proved as much in a collaboration with the Seattle Surge, a professional Call of Duty League (CDL) team that is co-owned by Canucks Sports and Entertainment.

Höglander faced off against Amer “Pred” Zulbeari, who is one of the best Call of Duty players in the world. When the Surge won the CDL 2022 Major III Grand Final, Pred was named the tournament’s Most Valuable Player, then was named Rookie of the Year for the 2022 CDL season.  

With that in mind, it’s at least a little bit surprising that Höglander — decidedly not a professional e-gamer — managed to hold his own in a 1v1 match against Pred.

Höglander, playing under the handle “HitTheDeke,” seemed to legitimately catch Pred off-guard with how well he played, as the power forward matched him kill for kill at first. At the 2:40 mark, Pred looks legitimately taken aback, looking towards the camera crew as if making sure he’s not being pranked by being secretly matched up against another pro.

19,

VANCOUVER – Not only has he a dream job, Nils Hoglander has a dream commute to go with it.

Each morning the Vancouver Canucks are home, the Swedish rookie leaves his 22nd-floor apartment that overlooks the city, gets in an elevator and rides down to the bottom of the Rogers Arena. That’s his commute. No car, no transit, no rain.

This is rink-rat heaven.

“Taking an elevator to get to the rink would be like a dream for Nils,” Chris Abbott, the Canadian general manager of Hoglander’s former team, Rogle BK, told Sportsnet. “You’ll have to turn the lights out to get him to leave. You’ll never find a guy who wants to be on the ice more. I’d be out for a run and I’d see him skating on rollerblades with a bunch of kids in the middle of nowhere. He loves being around the rink and loves his teammates, and I think that goes a long way for him to focus on what he needs to do to stay in the NHL.”

20, Hoglander said he is accustomed to living on his own. He misses the camaraderie of teammates away from the rink, but spends his afternoons FaceTiming his family and friends in Sweden. His mom, Maria, is a teacher and his dad, Anders, a professional test driver for auto-makers.

“Cool job,” Hoglander said.

He also spends a lot of time with friends and teammates playing video games online. Call of Duty is his favourite, and Pettersson and Canuck Adam Gaudette are regular gamers, he said.

21,

When did Nils' interest in hockey arise? (asking Nils' parents) – He was probably no more than two and a half years old when he started skating. He could skate straight away, which is almost crazy. So did Tilda. – Before that, both of them had skied quite a bit, both downhill and cross-country. Both of them competed a lot on skis and we often had to throw them in the car straight from the podium to go to a hockey match.

22,

Nils Höglander seems to be a very strong person and his parents believe that this may be due to the tough times he experienced growing up. – Yes, but if we look back at how he was during his youth, he was, as we say, a “squirt”. He was everywhere and nowhere. Much like he sometimes is on the hockey field, laughs Höglander’s parents and continues: – I think everything he has been through, both with Tilda and the Skellefteå time, has been built on this Norrland-like stability. None of us parents can otherwise put our finger on why he has become so strong within himself, because we also feel that he is.

23,

And always with a smile on his face… – It takes a lot for him not to smile. When he smiles, he has fun. You have to be humble about life and the world. All people are different, but you should try to treat everyone well and not get carried away too much.

24,

When Brännström came to the Canucks, one of the faces he recognized was Nils Höglander.

The two Swedes have known each other for over 10 years and their first memory goes back to a hockey camp in Sweden where Brännström’s dad was the coach.

At that camp, Höglander was playing forward but the surprise came when Brännström told us that he was a goaltender at the time. Brännström said he was either 11 or 12 at the time and he was playing goaltender when he was playing up an age group.

25, Who's more likely to be a cool parent? Elias Pettersson: "I like to think I would be a cool parent, but I'll say Nils Hoglander. He's from up north in Sweden. He's just a very funny guy."

26, Who's more likely to be a cool parent? Elias Pettersson: "I like to think I would be a cool parent, but I'll say Nils Hoglander. He's from up north in Sweden. He's just a very funny guy"

Who's more likely to get lost in a road city? Quinn Hughes:"Probably Hoglander"

27, Who on your team is most likely to get lost on the road? (asking Quinn Hughes) Quinn: "I feel like Hog-man. (You're such a good person!) No, I'm gonna explain myself. He is literally from a town in Sweden with like 15 people. Like, grocery story 2 hours away"

28, Höglander was voted the worst golfer last year…

[tweeterwilbury]

Okay some of my favourite csny facts/anecdotes just for compiling them:

-roger mcguinn saying that stephen was Romancing Crosby Away from the byrds before crosby was fired

- when they were in the 1974 tour one time bob dylan joined them and stephen kinda didnt allow anyone else to be in the same room as him when bob played some new songs (= basically the entirerity of blood on the tracks) and meanwhile nash was outside the room hearing the whole thing ans dying with it and when bob goes out stephen says Bob is no musician.

- that one time stephen destroyed a tape of wind on the water bc graham didnt want to sing on one of his songs or whatever and graham had to call his manager (who was his neighbor i think?) to physically get stephen out of his house. And then immediately after that his girlfriend put a song to play to calm graham down and it's idiot wind by bob dylan. Which goes well with the last anecdote

- the Eat A Peach incident but specifically that one interview with stephen like 2 weeks later where hes like It's over for me. My life is over.

- thrasher by neil young

- this one is more neil solo thsn csny but the live in berlin concert when nils lofgren is doing some crazy moves like everyone should watch thst

- when csn first came to exist they used to play their songs and sing to many friends and like appearently two of these friends were art garfunkel and paul simon and they didnt think it was all that good or something which is just really funny to me

- still talking about when csn started, they had an audition to apple (the beatles company not steve jobs) and it was a live audition with george harrison judging if they were going to get a contract or not. And he said No <3

- Ok next two will be more csny-adjacent but still talking about george harrison the first cover of a george song appearently was the hollies' if i needed someone but he didnt like it and talked about not liking it when someone in the press asked him and graham got angry with it and replied saying some shit like People take the beatles word like gospel but we all started in the same place. Also appearently george's comment may have affected the hollies' sells bc the cover was a single <3

- still talking about george harrison and specifically if i needed someone appearently he sent a tape of it to roger mcguinn before the song was released bc it took some inspiration from the byrds (i think it was specifically from their version of the bells of rhymney)

- The Old Uniform incident

- Nash being so fucked up in the 1974 tour that he sounds Too Loud in basically every song ever. One time i heard a our house with aggressive lalalalalala and it was the funniest thing ever

- when neil was 'feeling alone' during the deja vu sessions so for some reason he adopted two bush babies (which he named speedy and harriet) and nash absolutely hated those animals

- when the idea of neil joining csn first appeared nash didnt know him yet so they had a date just for nash to like. Know him and approve him in the band. And appearently graham was fine with it bc neil was funny

- joni mitchell told elliot roberts to meet neil because he was funny. Lets all pour out one for the funny lovely guy that is neil young

- when elliot roberts managed the buffalo springfield for a short time he let neil alone for like half an hour or something to play golf when they were touring and neil wasnt feeling well so after that he fired elliot and elliot tried to go back to the band after they went back to la and neil got furious with him and like at some point elliot starts crying and neils like Okay either i stay or he stays and everyone prefer neil to stay. And then elliot goes home and some days later neil appears at his house and hes like Okay i fired you from buffalo springfield bc i want you to manage me as a solo artist. And elliot is like Oooohhhh this guy is smart making this whole plan. But like years later neil was like Well i didnt really plan to fire him and then get out of the band. So basically he just made elliot cry in front of wveryone and they put on a big scene for no specific reason he was just feeling evil i guess

- that one anecdote about stephen making a X in a photo of csny in 1969 (i think?) after making a comment about how neil looked like he was about to say "look im here but im not really in this band and im gonna break your heart again stephen" but like stephen is so angry about it that when he makes the x in the photo the pen goes through the paper

- That one interview when stephen said that on the way home is about him which neil never confirmed neither denied but it surely makes every live performance of on the way home much better when you notice how stephen is doing the I love you I do background part all the time. alone. Not even doing it with crosby and nash most of the times like what even is the point of that

- when stephen covered the loner for illegal stills and then on the stills-young tour he and neil played the song with alternate versions and sometimes neil would be like "We will do a song i wrote but in Stephens way because i like how stephen does it!" Before they started singing and when they started it stephen would totally skip the first verse and sing only half of the second verse in a totally drunken stage

- when nash said in wild tales that one time during the boat trip with crosby there was a storm and crosby picked up a 140 pounds anchor to throw in the sea to save them which is just an insane anecdote. Okay

- when nash said he thinks stephen is clinicslly insane and that he doesnt think stephen was happy and that if he hadnt been stephen stills he would have been put away long ago. And then in the same page neil is like I really like stephen as a person..........

- when crosby and nash were interviewed and the interviewer asked them if they were a couple as a joke and graham freaked out and the interviewer eas like Okay but what keeps you two together if not the queerbaiting. And im paraphrasing it here but the interviewer literally used the word queerbaiting in it

- that one time stephen said that people thought that he and jimi hendrix were fags or that stephen was a male groupie but it Wasnt Like That

- bruce palmer saying that neil sang like a faggot

- more neil solo than csny but that one story of rick danko making him release tonight's the night

- that one time stephen showed up at nash's house with a full meal for some reason and then left without saying anything

Theres definitely a lot more these are just some of the top of my head

[fallenjello]

Yall

This cant be a coincidence

This CANT be a coincidence @zeddyzi yay your favorite!!! homestuck!!!! Also theres literally no karkat sprites i could find where hes smiling so this is the best i can do Yapping under the cut cause i dont wanna force yall to read all that🙂‍↔️

There isnt like a single difference between karkat and nil BUT while dave and dimitri are similar in the bigger more obvious ways (like their names both starting with d which i just realized, the red eyes, similar hair colors [although yeah dimitri dyes his], both wearing red, dimitri's black eyeshadow/daves black sunglasses, and the "cool/chill guy" act) except, dimitri is ACTUALLY cool and its not an act for him (or if it is, hes actually doing a good job) and people actually like him. nobody fucking likes dave LMAO (in the actual story i mean, i think the only person who likes that guy is june,, karkat doesnt even like him and davekat is my favorite ship*... also wtf is with all these parentheses what am i doing guys) *I dont ship nil x dimitri though they are the best friends ever🥹🥹 i love them

[ayaitch]

One of the things in the Horizon games that is a little tiresome to me is about all these Carja "good ones". Every time we meet a Carja (except for Nil, who is a whole other topic...), the narrative goes to lengths to assure us, the audience, that we should care about this Carja because they were "one of the good ones" during the Red Raids. This Carja wanted to stop things. This Carja opposed the Red Raids and senseless slaughter. This Carja always questioned things and strove to stop it all.

So that's great and all, and I appreciate having "good ones" right off the bat during awful, horrible times in a culture's history, but it's not very challenging. Show me why I should care about one of the "bad ones". Or someone who thought they were doing well by their culture, people, family, only to finally glimpse the big picture and realize how wrong they were and then try to change. Someone who snaps out of it, elbow-deep in blood (metaphrically?), and realizes something is off, thinks, 'Wtf am I doing, this isn't helping anyone.'

Even Avad, who usurped his bloodthirsty, tyrant father (and killed him, I don't want that to be taken away from Avad!) should have, at least up until a certain point, believed what his father was doing was right. It's how he was raised. It was the only lens by which he saw the world, especially considering the literal pillar upon which the Carja royal family resided. He had to be drinking from the same cup as his father (again, metaphorically) and so why wouldn't he believe up to a time, that they were doing what was right by their religion/culture. At some point, he had a Come-to-the-Sun moment (so to speak) and realized his father was a terrible, murdering person and worked against that, but what was that moment? He was already plotting against his father by the time he meets Ursa and helps her escape (if I recall correctly...).

Talanah's father and brother, prestigious and noble members of the Hunter's Lodge in Meridian, should have, at least at the beginning, been totally behind their Sun-King, who made it a point to justify more and more terrible things by claiming it for the best, that their people needed protection from this machine threat and degrading biosphere. I like the way the narrative handled them, but we were still presented with the idea that they were "good from the start."

Fashav too. "One of the good ones", who marched with the Red Raiders hoping to "mitigate" their atrocities. Which he failed at so why is he still considered a good one? Because intentions? There's a reason the adage is "The road to hell is paved with good intentions." (Don't get me wrong, I love Fashav, and wanted him to retire in comfort and accomplished lasting peace with laurels on his arms. He's such a compelling character as far as I'm concerned.)

Every Carja we meet that the narrative wants us to care about had figured out that the Mad Sun-King was awful and terrible before their hands got truly dirty, and were just trying to do their best from the inside to make change without creating waves and getting themselves executed (except Talanah's family, good on them).

So. I guess what I'm looking for in Horizon is an actual bad guy of the Carja who comes around before the end of the Red Raids. Someone too deep to see that they were wrong at first, but as soon as they did, made the needed change, and then did their very best to actively sabotage and undermine authority in every possible way. It's not that I don't like the Carja we meet in the game, it's just boring that they're always "one of the good ones" so we should care about what happens to them, instead of just having Aloy murder them on sight. Someone who did some things in the name of an unworthy institution and is now trying to come back from it and do the right thing.

Thinking about all this makes me wish we could have taken down those Shadow Carja in the Daunt at the beginning of HFW, because they're still nasty and awful (but still somehow good and peaceful types?????), but Aloy and Petra are all, 'aw, poor refugees...'. Like.... Pardon me? Weren't they were 100% supportive of the murdering, crazy Sun-King who tore apart both of their tribes and are anti-Avad who wants peace with everyone. What the hell is with that?

[mariemariemaria]

Bhreathnaigh mé ar 'Kneecap'. Bhain mé a lán sult as an scannán — sé go mhaith!!! Agus go diabhalta greannmhar.

Spoilers below 👇 (as Béarla lol)

the opening was sooo good not the Brits thinking a christening at a Mass rock was an IRA gathering. Doesn't that say a lot?

Cowboys are cunts

The cinnamontography 👌👌👌

Lmao when the cop calls him a fenian and he's like that's a fair question rudely asked

Bobby Sandals

Michael Fassbander is like is anybody gonna play a too handsome west Belfast Irish republican with empathy and nuance and won't even wait for an answer

I found the sex scenes kinda cringey tbh. But I guess they got across what they were supposed to

Never thought I'd see the telegraph building in a film but here we are lol

'We're the Radical Republicans Against Drugs. We're radical Republicans before we're against drugs. It's in the name' lmao a lot of people do act like that once they find out they can get in on the drug money too

I liked the class element. With JJ and his partner being more middle class (if teachers can be called middle class these days) and having a secure job, meaning he could quit easily but also had to hide his identity. Interesting

The two telephone boxes really moved me

Never underestimate the power of Belfast mothers too true

I've seen the quote 'gach focal a labhraítear i nGaeilge, is é piléar scaoilte ar son saoirse na hÉireann' repeated a lot which I understand because its catchy and its said a few times during the film, but I quite like the end where they add that maybe we shouldn't talk about things in terms of bullets anymore, even as a metaphor, and the Protestant girlfriend going to an Irish language class.

An indigenous language dies every 40 days??? What the fuck

Overall really enjoyed it and cant wait to watch it again. Love hearing Irish spoken in the north so this type of film and band are just iontach! ❤️🅾️ the DUP really created a horrible atmosphere with their attitude towards an Irish language act and their crocodile comments. Like just because people were asking for the same thing Scotland and Wales had 🙄 It really wasn't nice to be viewed like that. But now there's an ILA, and multiple Irish language films are doing well internationally, so I'd say that's Fenian cunts 1 - DUP nil

[practicedvmm13fullofpotatoes]

Things in The Neighbor's Under the Bed that drive me insane

(WARNING: IT'S A REALLY LONG POST FOR SOME REASON. CONTINUE IF YOU DARE)

Mark said "They beat us 7-nil", implying that Abigail was also a Raccoon. So. Both of them are retired Raccoon City players but Mark cares about football and getting back at Johnny and Janae's father. Abigail loves the guy enough to let him do his plans, occasionally helping him (like with the tunnel thing) but she doesn't obsess over football like he does

"A nipple a day keeps the Rangers at bay!" "That's what we've got on our house crest" I know all of these things are supposed to be for comedic purposes but that implies that Abigail's been doing the nipple thing since the Raccoons lost to the Rangers (hell, she could have also been doing it before they lost to the Rangers but I don't think she'd have the need to do that unless conspiring with Mark to get back at the Rangers)

THE ADDAMS JUST HAVE A BLUEPRINT OF THE EVANS' HOUSE. WHAT??

"We love you too, Dad!" Janae, that is your mother--

"Don't hit your brother anymore, that's not very nice okay?" "I try to but the night terrors" This is Janae responding. I can't tell if this is because Janae has nightmares and is hitting Johnny in their sleep or if Janae hits Johnny to wake him up from a really nasty future dream

Johnny coming out of nowhere while Martha was already telling the boys goodnight and her not knowing that he wasn't in the room shows how neglectful of a mother she is. Sure, she comforts him but also tells him to "shut up" and to "stop being weird".

"Yes, Johnny, that's the one" WHY DID JANAE HAVE TO CONFIRM THAT THEIR MOTHER WAS RIGHT WITH WHAT THEIR OLDER BROTHER'S NAME IS??

"I did say that he was my older brother. But he's emotionally less mature" This is definitely to clarify to the audience but I'm taking this as Janae knowing that their mother can't differentiate them sometimes.

"What do you mean you had another one of your future dreams?" SHE DOESN'T KNOW WHAT HE'S TALKING ABOUT. AND THIS IS A REGULAR OCCURRENCE, MIND YOU. SHE DOESN'T LISTEN TO HIM WHEN HE'S TALKING ABOUT HIS FUTURE DREAMS!! HE LITERALLY HAD TO EXPLAIN WHAT HIS FUTURE DREAMS WERE

"I'll try but I do have to finish the Oxford curriculum" Implies they're in school and then Tom throws the next line "Because, you know I'm lecturing in the morning" which throws my previous idea out the window. JANAE LECTURES AT OXFORD?? JANAE FUCKING GRADUATED AND TEACHES AT OXFORD??

"I dreamed a man came out from under my bed :(" I mean, sure, it's technically correct but not exactly correct?? Which implies that Johnny either has 80% accurate future dreams or his dreams come from another perspective sometimes??

"But sometimes they come true, mommy!" SOMETIMES?? SO THEY DON'T ALWAYS COME TRUE?? I MEAN. OKAY

"It's okay, I'm familiar with the carnal act" what has this eight-year-old seen....

"My seis-- my seismogram" Tom was blanking on what it was called but yes, a seismogram exists (I saw it on my exam. But now I'm starting to think that an 8 year old just recently invented it)

"It's not true" IMMEDIATELY TOLD HER CHILD THAT IT ISN'T REAL. DOES SHE CARE ABOUT HER CHILDREN? PROBABLY NOT

"If it was true, it would be called a seismoGRAPH" BOTH OF THEM SHUT JANAE DOWN. WHAT?? GUYS. HEAR 'EM OUT. COME ON

"I said I made it myself, it's something new, father!" NEITHER OF JANAE'S PARENTS WOULD LISTEN TO THEM. ALSO, THE EMPHASIS ON "FATHER" IMPLIES JANAE DOESN'T LIKE THEIR FATHER MUCH

"I know where he gets his power. I have to sleep with his wife" THIS IS LIKE THE MEME. ["I'VE CONNECTED THE TWO DOTS" "YOU DIDN'T CONNECT SHIT" "I'VE CONNECTED THEM"] NO BUT WHERE THE FUCK DID HE GET THIS IDEA I'M SOBBING SO HARD

"ENGORGE HIM AND HAVE HIM ENTE-- no wait-- ENGORGE HER AND HAVE YOURSELF ENTER HER" TOM WAS READY TO MAKE THIS GAY. I LOVE THAT

"It'll just be me and the boys--" "No, me and the boys" THEIR FATHER IS TOO FIXATED WITH FOOTBALL THAT HE DOESN'T EVEN CONSIDER HIS CHILDREN

"Tasting menu" "Expensive.." THIS ISN'T REALLY RELATED TO THE LORE I'M TRYING TO MAKE FOR NEIGHBOUR'S BUT THIS IS HILARIOUS

The nod to Luke before patting the chair. Again, not related to lore but I love this moment

AJ going to drink in the background until Luke spoke. Took a moment to pause because that was definitely not what Johnny sounded like previously (not related. again)

"We had a different daddy. Our daddy was not our daddy it was the neighbaah :(" Okay so going back to Johnny's future dreams, they aren't 100% accurate to what actually happens but rather a caricature of it?? Dreams don't always make sense in real life, so Johnny's future dreams being a bit exaggerated makes sense kind of??

"WHY ARE THEY DOING IT IN THE RECORDING STUDIO WITH ALL THE MICS ON?!" THEY HAVE A WHAT IN THEIR HOUSE? THEY HAVE A RECORDING STUDIO???

"I was going to suggest a fire but okay!" JANAE IMMEDIATELY THOUGHT THAT A FIRE WAS THE BEST WAY TO SOLVE THIS. THEY MAY BE BOOK SMART BUT THEY'RE A LITTLE BIT FUCKED UP IN THE HEAD. JOHNNY, THE ONE WHO GOES MORE ON EMOTION RATHER THAN GENUINELY THINKING, WAS THE ONE WHO HAD A RATIONAL IDEA. CALLING THEIR DAD WAS DEFINITELY THE BETTER IDEA. AND THEN HE JUST AGREES WHEN JANAE SUGGESTED A FIRE. YEAH, NO, NEVERMIND THEY'RE BOTH A BIT FUCKED UP (then again, younger children have wild imaginations. Janae might be intelligent but that doesn't mean they're not a kid. Hell, their boosted iq may or may not have aided with the fucked up ideas they might have)

Janae just being a news anchor/football announcer in a normal speed while Jack and Mark are in slow mo. Why is that? To make it a bit more dramatic? Because it's a slow mo playback? Huh??

"I'll be seeking forced adoption for myself and my older brother" GOOD BECAUSE BOTH OF THEIR PARENTS ARE NEGLECTFUL. THEY DESERVE TO LIVE IN A BETTER HOME, GODDAMN IT

Tl;dr: This play is insane and these two kids need a family that actually care about their interests and don't shut them down/force them to play football

[samsalami66]

Here we go again with a fun little drabble, this time for a spontaneous Knight!Hob and Prince!Dream au (which will probably get a few more additions lmao). It all started with my lovely @im-not-corrupted handing me the prompt "you know, it's ok if you're not ok" from this wonderful prompt list.

----

Dream ran down a corridor, his coat billowing behind him like an angry cloud of black smoke, set to destroy everything that would dare to stand between him and this God-forsaken door deep within the bowels of the castle. 

Dream ran, and it was the first time Dream remembered running since his childhood years, when he had been a naught but a babe, excited to explore every nook and corner of the massive palace that he called his home. Of course the first time he was forced to engage in such physical activity in as many years, it would be Hob Gadling's fault. Because it was always Hob Gadling's fault, from the moment he stepped foot into the throne room and announced he would become Dream's personal guardian, a Knight in his name alone, loyal to none other than the Prince of the Dreaming. 

What is he at fault for? a curious reader might ask, and Dream would whirl around on his heel and give a whole list of things Sir Robert Gadling could be blamed for, if only indirectly. 

For the blush he forced onto Dream's pale cheeks anytime their gazes met over a particularly boring dinner with his family. Perhaps also for the way Dream's heart skipped a beat whenever Hob spoke up to the King and Queen on his behalf, a feat so terrible even the most noble of men had failed before him. Good thing Hob was no nobleman, no son of high houses nor of new money. 

He was an idiot, first and foremost. A talented, quick witted and patient idiot, but an idiot nonetheless. After all, who just waltzes into a room with the King and Queen in it and promises undying loyalty to their adolescent son who no one particularly likes and expects it to simply work? And who decides to simply enter a jousting match without any former training or experience for fun?

Hob Gadling, of course, which was just one more example of things he could be blamed for. 

Nil consideration for his own physical well-being. 

Idiot. 

Dream was about to say as much as he threw open the door to Hob's chambers, but every ill thought spent towards his Knight's stupidity was immediately dropped as Dream found him hunched over the back of his armchair, one hand clutching at his bare chest as it rose and fell in quick succession. 

God's wounds, Dream had seen how Hob got shoved out of his saddle, how the lance had connected with his armor plate and sent him flying from his horse in one spectacular arch. But he never could have guessed just how bad it must have hurt, even through the steel and cloth. The bruise on Hob's chest was an angry black, his sides spotted with a deep red where his ribs were most definitely fractured. 

"Hob," the name left Dream's lips like a plea, like God's name would fall from a sinner's lips who prayed for salvation. And he did pray for salvation, in a way. Not his own, but salvation from endless pain nonetheless.

The man in question looked up between sweaty brows, a pained grimace painting his usual smile an ugly gray. Dream found himself by his side faster than lightning, hands coming up to hover helplessly over Hob's chest. 

Hob sighed at the concern clearly plastered into every corner of Dream's face, the way his lips tugged downwards in an obvious display of his dislike for the position he found Hob in. 

"Don't you worry for me, my Lord. I'm… fine. I'm fine, I promise." 

Tragically, the trustworthiness of this statement was negated by a heavy cough wrecking Hob's body, which left him groaning in pain over his injuries. 

"You are not fine, Robert Gadling," Dream hissed in response, hands finally coming to a rest on Hob's back. "Which is. Alright. It is alright if you are not alright. Just, please, lay down, my friend. You must rest."

Thankfully, Hob did not fight Dream as he was pushed towards his bedroom, and neither did he when Dream gently pressed him down into the mattress with a careful hand to his shoulder. His breath was still heavy and his eyes half-lidded as he looked up at Dream, something vulnerable hidden behind the dark brown of his eyes that Dream could not quite decipher in the near darkness of the bedroom. 

"Will you stay? My Lord?" Hob whispered, apparently balancing carefully between the realm of sleep and the world of the waking. 

"No duty could possibly force me from your side, my half-witted Knight." Dream responded quietly, his heart warming considerably at the soft smile that crept into his friend's eyes at the endearment, before they eventually fell close and Hob got pulled into deep and restful slumber. 

Dream placed a single feather-light kiss to the dark spot on Hob's chest before settling into the other side of the bed, his eyes fixed on the slowing rise and fall of Hob's breast. 

Hob Gadling really was an idiot.

Dream's idiot, but an idiot nonetheless.

[thalialunacy]

[for the @calaisreno MayProWriMo, which we're halfway through, whaaaat. take heed: I'm gonna call this one nc-17/nsfw/explicit; also smol cw for John being a middle-aged white dude who tries hard.]

(1) (2) (3) (4) (5) (6) (7) (8) (9) (10) (11) (12) (13) (14) (15) 16: experiment (17) (18) (19) (20) (21) (22) (23) (24) (25) (26) (27) (28) (29) (30) (31)

'The true method of knowledge is experiment.' -- William Blake

John's birthday do turns into a Rosie-themed party, but he doesn't mind. He's chuffed, truth be told. And not at all biased.

Luckily, all the other adults present are also not at all biased, so she has a willing audience for her various toddler antics, and throws herself into them full-speed.

'Perfect,' John says aside to Sherlock as Rosie demonstrates to the twelfth guest how to use her new rocking horse. The thing is solid. 'She'll wear herself down and pass out as soon as I put her to bed.'

Sherlock glances down at him from where he'd been watching a folded-up Stamford give the toy horse a few rocks before listing to one side and plonking down onto the carpet dramatically. 'You have plans?' he deduces easily while Rosie's giggles spin through the air.

John clears his throat. 'Possibly.'

Sherlock's lips curve into a smile, even after he turns his focus back to the room. 'Indeed.'

---

'In the spirit of science, there really is no such thing as a 'failed experiment.' Any test that yields valid data is a valid test.' -- Adam Savage

In true contrarian form, Rosie fights the fight of the exhausted and over-stimulated when John tries to start her bedtime routine after finally shoving all the guests out the door. He gets more water on him than she does during her bath, she ends up with backwards jammies on because she absolutely refuses to wear them any other way, and she has declared her disgust with every single one of their normal bedtime stories before he can blink.

John loves her to the ends of the earth, but he's suddenly feeling some strong nostalgia for his bachelor days. Very strong. Very. Strong.

A few moments before his patience is truly drained to nil, there's a knock on the door and Sherlock sticks his head in. 'Rosamund?' he asks, walking over and meeting her gaze. 'What's all this?'

'Don't want bad story!' she exclaims with watery eyes, like the idea is tantamount to state-sanctioned torture.

Sherlock glances at John, who just shrugs wearily. 'There's no accounting for taste.'

Sherlock snorts. 'Alright, Watsons. Here's the plan. Watson the Elder will go have a bath and some tea, and Watson the Younger will listen attentively while I tell the most riveting story of all time.'

He tucks her blanket back around her and she settles a little at his touch. Then he starts in with That Voice, and she's no match. 'Long ago, there once was a woman named Marie. She was from a land far, far away called Poland.' John makes a noise, and Sherlock in turn makes a shooing motion at him.

Plodding his way down the stairs, John muses that all of Sherlock's Rosie stories have involved female protagonists, usually non-fictional. They're not a particularly outwardly 'woke' bunch, the residents of 221 Baker St, but John reckons it's the little things. Like raising a daughter with heroes like Marie Curie.

It's not something they've even discussed, as her caretakers, and affection for Sherlock hits John hard in the chest. He's the luckiest bastard in the world, he really is.

---

'Argument is conclusive, but it does not remove doubt, so that the mind may rest in the sure knowledge of the truth, unless it finds it by the method of experiment.' -- Roger Bacon

That appreciation is still lingering when John exits the loo in his bathrobe to find Sherlock sprawled on the kitchen table, which is a new one, reading a book that looks about as old as the earth itself.

'Feel better?' he says without lifting his eyes to John.

John nods, approaching him. 'You left out the part where Marie Curie died of radiation poisoning, yes?'

'Obviously,' Sherlock says, easing his legs over the edge of the table until he's sitting on it like a normal person, but still reading. 'That will keep until she's at least four.'

'Right. What's the book about?' John asks as he makes his way between Sherlock's knees.

Sherlock holds up a pointer finger. 'One moment.'

John shakes his head with a small smile, then without really considering it he rolls his palms up Sherlock's thighs. The detective is still wearing his party trousers, fine wool John really doesn't want to know the cost of, and it feels smooth and satisfying under his skin.

He leaves his hands at the top of Sherlock's thighs, pressing lightly into small spaces. Sherlock coughs. 'If you distract me, it'll take even longer.'

John raises his hands. 'Fine, fine. I'll just be in bed.' He lowers his voice a little. 'In your bed.'

Sherlock goes very still, eyes staying glued to the page. But his thighs tighten around John when he tries to back away.

John chuckles, and debates the merits of keeping his hands to himself. But before he's decided, he's interrupted.

'Done,' Sherlock announces loudly, slapping the book shut and putting it down on the table with only a modicum of care. He pulls John into him immediately, but his brow is a little furrowed. 'Do you mean it?'

'We've shared beds before,' John strings him along with.

Sherlock tuts. 'John Watson, don't be coy, it doesn't suit you.'

John sobers, and then nods. 'I want… ' He goes for the plain truth. The opposite of coy. 'I want to sleep in your bed, and I'd prefer it'd be after some orgasms.'

Sherlock makes a noise John's not sure how to interpret.

'If you want,' John adds lightly. 

Crystalline eyes search John's face. 'Aren't you tired?'

His smile blooms slowly. 'Yeah, I am. But not too tired for this.' He reaches up to cradle Sherlock's face in his hands, and kisses him, slow and steady, feeling the beat of his heart.

---

'If I experiment enough, I get a deeper understanding.' -- Terence Tao

The first word gets drawn on Sherlock's right hip.

John's left index finger traces eight letters while his right hand tucks into Sherlock's pants and draws them down and off, his mouth following then trailing along hot, hard skin. He knows Sherlock's watching, and likes the idea that he's being at least a little unpredictable.

He's not done this before, but he's done this before. His tongue, and palate, and salivary glands adjust without much fanfare.

The second word, also eight letters, is then stencilled into Sherlock's right thigh, where the hair is downy, and the tendon cords under John's hand.

'John--' Sherlock murmurs roughly. 'What--'

John, on a whim, tries a thing with his tongue, and Sherlock cuts off with a groan. Then John finds himself so involved he forgets to do the next word until Sherlock pulls him up into a tight embrace.

John lets him, because it leaves him in the perfect position to tongue the ten letters into Sherlock's long, exposed neck.

'John, really. Your penmanship is--' His breath catches as John uses a few teeth. '--terrible.'

John huffs a laugh, genuinely amused. 'Doctor, remember?'

'No excuse,' Sherlock says blithely, then starts pulling away.

John is unashamed to admit he tries to stop him, tries to keep him close. Sherlock's gaze softens, and he leans back in.

'Not going further than this bed,' he says against John's mouth. 'It's just that I have something I wish to do.' He smiles, slow and long, and says, 'You did just have a bath, did you not?'

John searches his face, feeling scorched down to his toes at the implied invitation. His thumb traces the fourth word, only four letters, into the thin skin of Sherlock's unbroken wrist, and Sherlock's eyes widen fractionally.

'Perfect,' Sherlock says, then captures his mouth in another kiss. 'Turn over.'

'Your fracture,' John protests. 'It isn't fully healed.'

Sherlock rolls his eyes, and John is reassured he's still the same as he ever was. 'Which is why you should turn over. I'm going to kneel at the foot of the bed. That alright with you, Doctor?'

 'Oh, hell. Yes.'

The fifth word-- Well, John is surprised it took this long for the tables to turn, really, but the fifth word gets bitten into the rounded flesh where John's upper thigh tucks into his arse, before he has a chance to rise up onto his hands and knees. All seven letters, nibbled precisely into sensitive skin while Sherlock's uninjured hand teases at the goal.

'Jesus God,' John mutters weakly. 'Sherlock--'

'Up,' Sherlock says with a tap. John levers himself into position with a grunt, and barely has time to steady himself before Sherlock licks into him.

'Fuck,' he hisses, almost surging forward but being caught round the hip by Sherlock's good hand, steadied.

And then absolutely taken apart.

'Sher--' he falters, ages and a moment later, panting and trying to hold onto his clanging heart. 'Please, come here, I want-- I want you to come with me-- Oh, fuck.''

Sherlock's groan reverberates into him, and John falls onto his forearms, arse held in the air purely by strength of will. He'll congratulate himself later.

When Sherlock pulls away and climbs back onto the bed, John is caught in a messy web of lust and turns over just enough to pull Sherlock down onto his side. 'Please,' he says roughly, reaching for Sherlock's prick. 'Can I--'

'Yes,' Sherlock hisses, seeking out reciprocation. 'Whatever you want.'

And they sync up without too much struggle, racing to bring the other pleasure, and John can't quite remain tethered when he feels Sherlock's tongue tracing the sixth word over his heart. 'Sherlock,' he whispers. He tenses, and it's over; he's awash with sensation and floating away.

---

Seven steps of the scientific method: 1) Question 2) Research 3) Hypothesis 4) Test 5) Analyse 6) Conclusions 7) Communicate.

'You know,' Sherlock says enough moments later that John can focus on him again. 'The seventh step is debatable.'

John smirks sleepily, reaching blindly for his pants to wipe the majority of the evidence off their skin. 'I'd say communication is the most important part, actually.'

Sherlock huffs; John feels it on his temple and decides he's not moving for a while. And it takes a while for Sherlock to say what John can tell is brewing in his mind, anyway. It's alright. He can wait.

'What was that about, truly?' Sherlock finally asks quietly.

'Well,' John says, thinking as he traces figures, meaningless figures this time, into Sherlock's arm. 'Sometimes experiments are about demonstrating a known fact that’s already proven. '

'And this one proved…?'

John's hand comes to a stop. 'Oh, come on, you know what.'

Silence stretches after that statement, and John finally raises his eyes to meet Sherlock's. A smile spreads across his face at what he sees there.

'Just that I love the hell out of you,' he says matter-of-factly.

Sherlock lets out a stream of breath he'd apparently been holding. 'A reasonable conclusion,' he mutters, bringing their mouths together.

John grins, knowing exactly what Sherlock is saying with those words, and lets him have it.

[❤️]

[oleksiak-pettersson]

Shitttttt... I accidentally deleted this blurb.

The sun has long set by the time you look up from your book. Vancouver winters have a habit of sneaking up on you.

With the fire place roaring and the fuzzy blanket on your lap, you’d created the perfect reading atmosphere. The grumble of your stomach draws you out of your reading reverie.

Concrete, the cat you share with you boyfriend, cracks an eye open from the other side of the couch where he’s curled up like a shrimp. He mews softly at your movement before turning back over and resting his paw over his eyes.

You laugh at the cat, “Drama queen,” you poke his belly teasingly as you shed the blanket and stretch. The cat doesn’t even move, just continues to nod off into dreamland.

You can see the lights of Vancouver beginning to turn on from the buildings surrounding yours. You sigh contentedly as you glance at the clock on wall.

It’s dinner time. Lacking the energy to make food, you scoop up your phone and go in search of Elias. It’s an easy search, you can hear the echoes of his game from down the hall.

He’s left the door open a crack, you can hear the gameplay and he drops a f-bomb that has you chuckling.

You push the door open, watching with soft eyes as he’s focussed on his computer. There’s a headset covering his ears and a microphone attached to it that hovers near his pink lips.

His hair is a bit of a mess. You can hear the guys he’s playing with through the headset.

Brock, Nils, Quinn, and is that Kuz? You can’t be too sure.

“Petey? What do you want for dinner, babe?” You inquire, leaning against the doorframe.

You’re not prepared for how quickly he pauses the game and whips around in his chair. His jaw has dropped slightly and you can hear the confusion of his teammates and friends falling through the headset that previously rested on his head before he ripped it off.

“Sorry sweets, did I scare you?” You ask again, confused as to why he’s reacting this way.

“What did you just call me?” He counters, dead serious. There’s silence from the peanut gallery in the headphones.

“Sweets?” You shrug, still confused about the reaction.

“No, before that,” Elias rises from his chair, hands grabbing your hips with an urgency you’ve never seen him possess before.

“Babe? I call you babe all the time.” Your own hands come to rest on his chest. You raise an eyebrow at the seemingly now high-strung Swede.

“Before babe.” His eyes narrow into thin skits and you try not to chuckle at the long forgotten ‘alien death stare’ he’s sending your way.

“Petey?” You question, confusion taking over your face.

“Yes.” He says grumpily.

“But that’s your name, babe!” You laugh, hand moving up to cup his cheek.

“No. That’s what the guys call me, that’s what the fans call me.” He pauses, eyes watching your face shift. “You are my girl, the love of my life. I’m not just Petey with you.”

Your heart soars at his baring of emotion. You can’t help it as you pull his face to yours and press your lips against his.

He smiles into your grip, lips plush against yours as his tongue slides out to meet yours.

“Now that Peteys done being cheesy, can we have him back?” Brock’s voice rings in your ear.

“No!” Both you and Elias chorus as you pull apart.

“Play without him boys, it’s date night.” You grab the mic and place the headset back before smiling suggestively at your boyfriend.

You don’t think you ever seen him shut down a game so fast.

[real-fire-emblem-takes]

Okay, since we're sharing trans headcanons lately, hear me out: transmasc Rafal.

It's already established that he was frustrated with the body he was born into, feeling like it couldn't do everything he wanted. He wasn't strong enough to compete or be safe amongst his siblings. Then he realised those weren't the only reasons he felt dissatisfied.

Nil was the first person to be kind to him, and use the name he'd chosen, and treat him as a brother (not that dragons in general seem to care about gender, but I get the impression that most of Xeno Sombron's brood would bully each other over anything). Nil's death was devastating, but he also presented an unexpected gift: pretend to be me, and keep on living as one of Sombron's sons instead of his daughters.

An additional struggle, trying to keep that secret from Nel as they grew older (she knew anyway, because she always knew Rafal wasn't Nil, so that didn't matter – this was still her brother, who she'd love and protect). Things grew easier once they were in the less toxic environment of Lythos, and I'm sure we can imagine helpful trans-your-gender magic potions that someone might be able to covertly get their hands on. The real prize, however, would be the ability to use a dragonstone, because if that lets you shapeshift into a completely different creature, why wouldn't it let you make subtler changes too?

Five hundred war crimes later, Rafal does indeed acquire a dragonstone, and heads over to another Elyos, resolved to be a brand new man in more ways than one. Good for him (except for the war crimes part, I guess).

So he's following the Divine Dragon around and killing the Divine Dragon's enemies, and they end up thrown a thousand years into the past. And run into a foe who looks...somewhat like this world's Alear, and somewhat like the one from Rafal's own world, but not quite the same as either. Long red hair, a rather impractical miniskirt, and an aura of blank misery.

She didn't figure things out as early as Rafal, since every shred of personality was crushed down by Sombron. It'll stay that way until she finds refuge in Lythos, and quietly mentions to Lumera that she might like to cut her hair, the way that young man wore it, from her strange encounter in the snowfields. The one who had a face similar to hers, but looked so much happier, surrounded by his friends and comfortable in his own skin.

Rafal looks from the woman in black, to the man in white, and thinks, “Hey, you too?” ...But probably never actually mentions it to Alear, because he sucks at personal conversations. Oh well.

.