#hope someone enjoys regardless

[attemptinghaikyuu]

Thinking of a soulmate au where Tanaka and Amanai are bound by red string

Amanai is instantly swept up by Tanaka and knows that even when he moves away she wants to be with him, and when she meets him again it seems like fate!! So she confesses.

And she feels like she’s falling apart.

Tanaka does love her- But it’s not romantically; he’ll always want her around (now that they’re together again) but the person he wants to be with is Kiyoko

Amanai doesn’t want things to end there, how could she? That’s her soulmate. The person who she’s always wanted, who she’s been told by movies and books, her friends and family-that she is supposed to fall in love with and stay in love with

How can Tanaka not love her?

It’s a question she has to beat down, over and over now that the two are together. A question she can’t ever let into her heart, because she’s worried it could hurt it too much.

She honestly doesn’t expect an answer to her question. How can Tanaka not love her? Most of the time she’s too busy to think. Workouts, training, volleyball matches. They take up so much of her that the ache that used to be so prevalent in it’s pain, dulls to a comforting thump.

It’s a wonder when the pinch of hurt transforms into a flutter of warmth.

A new story unfolding, taking over her one of heart ache.

She doesn’t think anything special is happening when it starts. You’re a new friend. One who’s fun to hangout with and who’s always ready to lend a hand if she needs it. So a really sweet friend she’s fond of.

Amanai doesn’t really realize she’s forged her way into being in love. Not when you help her when she’s sick, or when she’s near tears and you tell a terrible joke that makes her laugh instead, or when you and her watched the sunrise together. It wasn’t any one of those times. It wasn’t until her heart caught on fire, that she’d realized all the kindling that had been left behind to catch and become a blazing fire.

It was so small. You’d fallen asleep on a train ride home. Right on her shoulder. She couldn’t tell you where the two of you had been before that train ride. But she could remember every detail of that ride. She’d been set ablaze from that moment onward.

The warmth rushing her heart was something she’d forgotten. It’s a burn she’s not sure she should do anything about. In the past, telling the person she liked about her feelings had ended poorly. So against her will, the past puts its insecurities at the forefront of her mind.

She doesn’t have to decide though. Not when you tell her you like her after a big volleyball match.

And it’s incredible, her heart is doing flip after flip- and it’s seems like there’s an endless loop repeating your words in her head.

She’d helped score the winning points and afterwards you’d met up with her, she’d smiled when your eyes met. You were so excited and even though it was her that’d scored and had been screaming over the win, a huge contrast to her usual quieter personality, she’d felt all that excitement double into a bright ball of happiness now that you were here smiling and yelling with her.

After you’d both calmed down you threw your arms around her and held tight, as you told her what you thought of her.

She was pretty sure she’d stopped breathing.

She was never expecting an answer to her question like this.

How could Tanaka not love her?

Well, how could she love you so much, that she could forget about one of the biggest volleyball matches she’d had in her carrier as she brought her lips to yours for a quick kiss.

How could her red string of fate have told her she’d want to do this with Tanaka, when all she could think of was you.

She understood her string was just platonic now. And she was completely fine with it.

Because she had an answer to her hearts question,

And it was you.

[rebornrosess]

A WORLD OF NOISE: THE ZABAJABA JUNGLE

ZABA by Glass Animals is 10 YEARS OLD TODAY.

A poem/stream of consciousness I wrote about ZABA on a rainy September night in 2022, one month after seeing Glass Animals live. ZABA was the album by which I found Glass Animals in 2018, and its abstract yet visceral nature continues to fascinate me. The more I listened, the more I felt I could understand the imagery drawn across its 11 tracks.

Essentially, I believe ZABA can be understood as a Queer reading and apologue of Plato’s allegory of the cave. There are many lines that allude to a (Queer) awakening from perceived societal constraints such as in Walla Walla (“it’s a ruse, all these creatures are a lie” & “i clap my hand and they’re gone into the night”), likely referencing the shadows projected by the puppet showmen in Plato’s allegory. Thus, the anguish expressed in songs predating ZABA’s release such as in Golden Antlers and in Exxus are symptomatic of a speaker trapped in a cave, unable to escape a deeper feeling of unease because they are only seeing the reality projected to them by a cisheteronormative system. It is only when the speaker escapes this metaphorical cave in Flip, the opening track of ZABA, (“I’m gonna shake my fetters / I’m breaking loose”), that they finally enter the confusing, overwhelming, but beautiful and fluid “world of noise” mentioned in Pools (and sonically created in Intruxx). Over the course of ZABA, the speaker wrestles with their preconceived notions of reality (Walla Walla uses a ton of imagery from The Matrix), relationships, gender, and sexuality, while simultaneously feeling betrayed by their family and society (Hazey and Toes).

The B-Side of ZABA dips into existential dread, as the speaker mourns the time they lost to the incomplete reality they had accepted in the cave, and the effects it had on their mental health (Wyrd), climaxing in Cocoa Hooves, as the speaker (or someone else), confronts them(selves) and the changes they have undergone in the ZABAJABA jungle. The speaker must choose if they wish to stay in the confusing yet euphoric jungle, or self-destruct (“set [their] wings on fire”) and return to the cave after flying too close to the sun and after indulging too deeply in their primal instinct. However, just as the freed prisoner in Plato’s allegory, the speaker runs the risk of never being able to live in blissful ignorance again, as their eyes may never re-adjust to the incomplete, crafted reality of the cave.

The last track of the album, JDNT, presents a conclusion as ambiguous as the title Dave refuses to explain. It is possible the speaker is accepting their doomed fate as prophecized to them by the antagonist in Wyrd, or radically accepting their outcast status, enjoying the “life untamed.” And perhaps, in the end, they triumph over their internal turmoil by recognizing it only has power over them if they allow it to, as it cannot “breathe without [them].” And thus, they return to the Earth, unfettered and born anew.

[wickmitz]

what do you think mitzi’s type in men is?

hmm, this is a fun little ask! especially since her love interests, on a surface level, couldn’t be more different. we have :

zib : former long term boyfriend but not quite … they were very loose with labels, as we know from outside information and the way zib lives life in general. but despite this, whatever feelings fostered between them were intense ; enough so for him to stick around years later, resigned to a chained down lifestyle simply because he doesn’t want to leave mitzi. he’s very loyal in that sense! even if it’s not a conventional type of loyalty. we know that before bitterness seeped inbetween their bond that zib took good care of her, while also being a complete mess of a person ; someone perpetually scared whenever physical conflict is concerned and being a musically inclined man who very much treats himself as a free spirit, with a morbid philosophy and feel towards life. he’s got a major tortured artist aesthetic!! is a little gripped by melancholy and nostalgia … zib is a lot of things, and ambitious is surprisingly one of the many puzzle pieces that make up dorian zibowski.

atlas : ruthless gangster, has an eerie presence that frightens even the people closest to him. he is prone to a more quiet disposition ; never speaking and always a blot of unremarkable grey. but he is an opportunist! someone who can manage a business and take advantage of shortcuts and loopholes to become even more successful … basically he is wealthy and uses his assets well. but all of this is done with a manner of distance, leaving even those closest to him never having the full picture of who he was. it’s also worth noting that mitzi and him had eventual problems, which caused her to seperate. also perhaps has a heart of some kind, but whatever love he possesses is hidden under layers of blood and mystery.

wick : well-to-do bore, and i say this with all the love in the world for wick! but compared to previous paramours he’s rather clean and talkative … there is a constant earnestness to him that bleeds out, an honesty and a more conventional sort of kindness. he doesn’t hide behind smoke and mirrors and there’s never really a front he puts up around mitzi -- or his investors for that matter, hence why he’s treated as an ‘outsider’ so to speak. he is an alcoholic who loathes the details of his job but is more than passionate about the job itself and makes this everyone’s problem … he is a little helpless, in the sense he’d die without someone there to make sure he functions … and is, like zib, perpetually afraid of conflict. can be a little wishywashy and can come across as uncaring due to his cheeky tone … but he’s loyal and caring, with a hobby for the unusual ( bugs and rocks lol ) as well as being able to look past the gossip mill and see the actual mitzi may as he knows her, someone who’s going through a rough time and is either too kind or classy to be a brutal killer. he is hypocritical, a little snobby, and rather forward with mitzi too. kind of a flirt when he wants to be!

something that immediately stands out to me when looking at this lineup is that mitzi doesn’t enjoy a violent man. i don’t think she loathes someone who can so brutally or clinically remove others from this earth, but if she were to go for someone they’d usually be sweeter in a sense. it meshes well with her old personality and kinder heart, perhaps brings it out in her, and that sort of levity and breeziness is more enjoyable than, say, being fully aware of the dangers that lurk around every corner because the man you’re beside is prone to bringing it. she also enjoys more talkative types, someone who’s less quiet and demure and serious, and is keen on her men having a hobby they care deeply for ; some sort of long term goal to work towards doesn’t hurt either. and because of some scenes in the comic, i’m a firm believer that mitzi wants someone who can make her smile or laugh with ease, whether because they’re ridiculous by nature or genuinely funny! she has a sort of funny bone herself, enamored with gallow’s humor and darker jokes, so having someone who either a.) reacts hilariously in the face of her jokes or b.) who can return that energy with teasing or their own brand of silly is desirable. everyone could use a good laugh or two, a sense of joy injected into the bustling life they all live, and this all ties back to mitzi being more drawn towards the less stuffy types of men.

so atlas seems to be an outlier when it comes to her type in many ways, hence the later problems they apparently had in their relationship even if she did love him dearly. but, of course, atlas did have something very appealing to her that zib had failed to give, which she rather fondly recalls in the comic page vestige. whether zib likes acknowledging it or not, mitzi wasn’t as gungho about their normad life as he was … or, at the very least, when she lived another life besides that one, she realized she had a preference! and atlas gave her that path, that knowledge that she wanted something else, and seemingly for the very first time in her life … she felt like a proper lady, a feeling that clearly meant a lot to her. it wasn’t just the dresses or the wealth, it was the constant eye of atlas who could have any dame he wanted, but fancied her his wife regardless. it was having someone so respectable looking, dressed well and groomed well, being able to see her as something other than a sweating, exposed girl in a bawdy dress. atlas’s seemingly polite treatment towards mitzi was enough to garner her affections in spite of everything else, so i think she enjoys that now in others, ; folks who treat her as though she’s a woman in high society, men who don’t gawk at her or make lewd remarks immediately … she probably prefers the courting process now and the quaint dates ( that she doesn’t pay for, mind you ) that come along with it. she just -- likes mutual respect, i think. and who doesn’t? she’s been through a lot to get to where she is now, even if it’s a bad predicament, and she’d like for that to amount to something. some sort of acknowledgment, some kind of recognition.

however, it’s worth mentioning that her views on romance and all that it entails have been warped since the death of her husband. such a loss would change how anyone approaches their dating life, if they were to even have one afterwards … after all, mitzi’s whole problem is that she doesn’t want to move on from atlas and has thus completely romanticized him in her head, to the point that she earnestly believes she’ll be miserable forever without his presence. any problems she had with atlas have long since been erased by her tortured mind, leaving her with a profound misery she’s wallowing in. i think she believes herself as incapble of romantic or sexual inclinations nowdays, leading her to view the advances made towards wick as a necessary ‘evil’ for the sake of atlas may and little else -- when she genuinely does like sedgewick to a degree, and wouldn’t go on dates or kiss a man unless some part of her honestly wanted to do so. ( i also think she was attracted to wick somewhat even while married to atlas, but that’s besides the point ) so this is all a rather complicated affair! she is vulnerable and weak, is too aware of herself and the criminal underbelly squeezing in closer … add this on top of her still heavily grieving and having no one she feels she can talk to, you have someone who is rather changed. mitzi is so far removed from herself and who she truly is, or was, that there’s no doubt it’s affected her type ; now she’ll settle for anyone if they’ll just help her, and even then she’d be dispassionate if romantic entanglement of any kind was involved in that relationship. it’s not something she wants right now, and honestly, it all seems scary and daunting … besides atlas, zib was the only other man she’s ever loved enough to stay around for, so she’s never faced a loss like this before. has kept zib throughout all the turmoil and changes -- so this is, as far as we know, her first major loss where it concerns matters of the heart. it’s not shocking she’s so messed up after it, especially given how fresh it all still is. all of this rambling is to say that mitzi’s a little more stingy and cagey then she used to be about love or sex, and she has a lot of inner battles to face before she can fall for someone and be sure about it. needs to thaw, i think, and she would require patience and understanding from anyone who actually wanted to be with her. mitzi could move on with time ( i do not think she’s the type of widow who’d never date again! ) but it would take quite some time to do so. well, in a world where she’s allowed / is able to heal anyway!

while her type would probably remain the same, i could see her wanting a serious relationship more than she did prior to the death of her husband. has no energy for the loopholes, or the rationalizations, or the fickle nature that can grip someone’s heart. she has matured in a lot of ways since her band days and would take comfort in frivolous things like labels and promises of a future, together, as lovers. while what she had with zib was nice and is cherished alongside the freedom to do as she pleased while on the road with the band, i don’t think she misses it. having the stability and assurance of an actual relationship, with all the hardships that come with it, would be better suited for her. as long as she’s treated like an equal of course! i don’t think she’d be keen on her partner hiding anything from her, even if it’s meant to protect her, due to where that put mitzi when atlas was killed. she’d rather know and be disgusted, or worried, or scared than to not know about something at all until it’s too late … again. naturally patience and compassion would also be of importance, as would the usual things she loves like loyalty and a passion for something in life. and while never required, she’d be happy if the person possessed even a singular musical bone in their body! she still thinks artists, particularly musicans, are sexy after all … likes the angst and brooding that comes with it, the slight flare towards the dramatics … as long as they can handle mitzi in her pitiful entirety and do, to some degree, care deeply for her and will compromise … i think she could find some happiness wherever. bonus points if she can live comfortably for the rest of her days too, lord knows she’s tired of the constant battle of hucking and bargaining.

but yeah! mitzi’s love life is vast and complex and i definitely see her as someone who is more flexible in type than other people are. though there are similarities between her suitors if you really look! anyway, i hope i was able to briefly touch upon this subject because my shipping brain loved your question and kinda went into overdrive, alas. tldr ; her ideal type is wick sable. sorry. once wick learns an instrument the wedding is back on!! … i’m kidding lol. well, mostly <3

[crescentfool]

having the hc that minato is ace is incredibly funny sometimes when you think about how ryoji is oh so very bi because it's like. "ah. death stole my ability to be attracted to people," in the same way that ryoji stole minato's eye color and energy level. like wow, thanks ryoji, you just keep finding things to steal from minato!

[rekindlevn]

How long will the game be?

*puts on glasses*

*grabs the calculator*

After crunching some numbers, taking into consideration average reading speed, drinking some caffeine, and checking our notes for word count

Each route will take around 3-4 hours to complete

With a total of 9+ hours if you want to complete every single route to get ALL the information about the boys :3

*average reading speed being 10k words per hour*

[soda-arcade]

woe, sad soda be upon ye

been Feeling It as of late and i felt compelled to put it on some digital paper

[finalgirlsamwinchester]

about to bring a Crash 1996 vibe to carfucker week

[percabeth4life]

Thanks for the updates! I don’t want to spread misinformation so I’ll go ahead and delete the post.

I'm glad to help.

I do think playing with the possibilities of reincarnation is a lot of fun mind you, I play with it in my fics too. It just doesn't have much mythological support lol. There may be some philosophical support of course, but I'm not the *most* educated on all the various philosophers of Ancient Greece, haven't made them a focus yet beyond what I studied in rhetoric.

I do wanna talk to your professor sometime cause I'm wondering what his sources are for the Achilles stuff and Thetis mythology. I know the Metis myth fits what he claims of Thetis but no source I've read on Thetis mentions the prophecy the way he mentioned it.

Anyways, I do hope you have fun with your fic idea? I mean, idk if you plan to write it lol but if you do that would be an interesting play. I do enjoy playing with reincarnation (my fav is Pallas reincarnating as Percy).

[lilyrizzy]

just a little something based of a csi fic i read 100 years ago, but cannot for the life of me find online to give credit to. if anyone recognises, pls do let me know!

outsider pov

cw: crash aftermath, breif mention of parent (guess who lol) being homophobic and a general dick

Sophie had always hoped that lighting a candle in church and crossing herself at the race track would be enough to appease God. Maybe she had angered him, missing so many Sundays this year to spend instead with her son, at his church; the track. Maybe it is just that God gives his hardest challenges to his loyalist followers, something she has heard repeated over and over since she was a child, something she taught to her own children.

Either way, watching the stewards pull her son’s unconscious body from a race car, it’s enough to have her wondering if there was more she could have done.  

Sophie lets herself into Max’s apartment with an easy twist of his key in the lock. Easier than she remembers, but then she’s struggling to recall when she was last here. The most recent times she’s seen Max, it’s been in the Netherlands or at different race tracks around the world. He says he likes to come home to see her, and it’s always warmed her heart too thoroughly, the idea that her house is home to him despite him never growing up there, for her to question that.

Now, she wonders if there wasn’t more of an ulterior motive.

Flicking on the hallway light, immediately she can tell it’s different. Splashes of colour she doesn’t remember seeing on the whitewashed walls. An antique-looking clock, letting her know it is 3 am. Artwork she’s never seen before hanging next to it, photos too, photos actually in frames. Years ago, there had been just one, her, Max and Victoria. Both of her children actual children in the picture, standing in front of some race track or other, and it had been frameless, stuck to the fridge with a magnet in the shape of a Red Bull can.

Now that one picture has multiplied, to make an entire collage frame, five photos in total sat inside it, the word ‘family’ written underneath.

Putting the keys in the glass bowl beside the front door- another new addition- she steps closer. The urgent, anxious need to be back at the hospital has dimmed, and she realises she feels closer to Max here than in a white, soulless waiting room, carefully avoiding both eye contact and conversation with his father.

The first photo she notices has a girl, no a woman, smiling at the camera with two small children by her feet. A boy and a girl, her hand on each of their blonde heads. The woman has dark hair though, a wonderful smile and kind eyes. Older than Max, probably by ten years. Sophie has never seen her before, can’t recall ever being introduced to her, and she wonders if this is the reason she has been kept away from this apartment, a secret girlfriend.

But Sophie can’t see any other photos of her, just a picture of Max’s own family, her, Victoria, Luka, Lio. A few photos of podiums at Red Bull, from when Max was just eighteen, then again at twenty, if she can guess right. A photograph of a sunset, the two blonde heads of the children just at the bottom of the frame, so maybe-

There’s a noise, the sound of footsteps that have her reaching for the can of hairspray she carries in her purse just in case, and-

“Fucking hell,” a man says, hand flying to clutch his chest, “Sophie, you scared the shit out of me.”

It’s a voice, a face that she recognizes.

“Daniel?” Her face is hot, embarrassed at her own overreaction, as her hand drops from the zip of her bag. “What are you doing here?”

He doesn’t answer, eyes widening a little as though there is still something to be afraid of. Quickly, her eyes track over the rest of him, the sweatpants and Red Bull Racing t-shirt he is wearing, both looking a few sizes too big. She wonders how much weight he has lost since being with the team, for the clothes to hang off him the way they do.

“Is Max okay?” He asks, and his voice sounds- Hurt almost. Definitely worried.

“He is still in surgery,” she says, hoping her tone is reassuring. He seems to need it. “I took his keys too- Well the nurse said maybe he would like some things, for when he wakes up. To help him feel more at home.”

A part of her, embarrassed, had wanted to ask the nurse, ‘like what?’ It had occurred to her then that she has no idea what her 25-year-old son would want, what he would need to make him feel better. She hasn’t been somebody who has comforted him when he is hurt, or sick, or even just upset, for a long time. With her, he is always happy, and though she has always cherished his smile, his laugh, she wonders just how true it is that he always feels that way.

Daniel nods, running a hand through his curls but doesn’t say any more about Max. Instead, he turns, walking into the kitchen, gesturing for Sophie to follow him.

“Would you like a coffee or something? It’s pretty late, but-“ he shrugs then, tapping his fingers against a fancy, expensive-looking machine that again, Sophie has never seen before.

“Yes, that would- Daniel what are you doing here?” She feels rude, interrupting his politeness with a question he dodged the first time, but she’s beginning to worry she’s let herself into the wrong apartment, or something equally ridiculous. Vaguely she remembers Max telling her, when he was newly moved to Monaco, that the building was nice and he knew so because Daniel lived there.

Daniel Ricciardo, his teammate and then ex-teammate, who Sophie heard endless stories about for the first few years of her son’s time with Red Bull, and then suddenly, nothing at all. The next she’d heard about him was when he left the team, Max saying dutifully that he was happy for him, but not much else.

They’d stayed friends, she knows, or whatever variation of friends rivals, competitors, can truly be.

“I live here,” is what Daniel tells her now though, turning his back to her to fiddle with the machine, “do you take milk and sugar?”

Sophie doesn’t know if she manages to hide the shock that must have found its way onto her face in his admission, by the time he turns to face her again with a tired smile, teaspoon in hand. She does manage to shake her head though, to take the cup from his outstretched hand and take a sip of bitter, black coffee without it burning her tongue.

“I’m sorry,” she says, once he’s finished fixing his own cup, “I did not know that you had been staying with him.”

She waits for an explanation.

Keeping up with the grid gossip has never been her strong suit, but she's heard the rumours like everybody else that this might be Daniel’s last season. She expects to hear something that makes sense, like maybe Daniel has already sold his Monaco apartment, and Max is helping him out. That he’s broke, that he’s in between apartments, that he’s an alcoholic that needs someone to hold him accountable, anything.

Not for Daniel to shrug, giving her the same wary smile, and say, “why would you?”

She nods like that makes sense, like any of it makes sense. Like she isn’t getting irritated by his attitude, by this feeling that there is something he knows that she doesn’t.

Her baby boy is hurt, she doesn’t want this. She doesn’t need this, to feel confused in his home, when she could be by his bedside, stroking his hair. Hopefully asking him herself, why Daniel Ricciardo is living with him. If he’s awake, if he can even-

“Where is his bedroom?” She asks, setting the cup on the counter. “I cannot be too long.”

He mirrors her, putting his own mug down. “I can get some things for him, no problem,” he offers, but she shakes her head.

“You should get back to sleep,” she tells him with a polite smile, “it is very late.”

He purses his lips and looks at her as though considering something. Clearly, there is an internal conflict that again, Sophie is not privy to, but it’s over as quickly as it comes, with Daniel shrugging and saying, “okay. Let’s sort him out some stuff.”

She’s about to insist again that it’s fine, she doesn’t need his help, but he’s making his way down the hall to another room, presumably Max’s bedroom, before she has the chance.

Inside, again, it’s nothing like she remembers, and she has a moment to stand in the doorway, watching Daniel open and close drawers, to take it in.

The walls are painted a soft green, where before she is almost certain they were white. The furniture is a dark wood, instead of the white Ikea flat packs she helped him to pick out when he first moved here. Even the bed is different, bigger, the bed sheets patterned, but not distastefully so, complimenting the features of the room.

An adult’s bedroom.

It isn’t the décor isn’t the thing that gives her the biggest pause though.  

It’s the way the bedsheets are crumpled, as though somebody- Daniel- only just got out of them.

It’s the way there are two phone chargers plugged into the wall on either side of the bed. Two bedside tables littered with items. One with a couple of water glasses, a racing magazine, a watch Sophie recognises as one she brought for Max’s 21st birthday. The other is tidier, just a book and a photo frame resting on top.

The picture is the final thing that makes her understand. Daniel with his arm wrapped around Max’s shoulder, pressing a kiss to his cheek,

She looks from the photograph, then to Daniel, who is watching her carefully, something on his face quietly pleading for understanding.

“You should pick him some comfy clothes,” she suggests, swallowing down all the questions suddenly at the tip of her tongue, “for when he is discharged.”

That earns her a soft smile and a nod, and he starts rummaging through the wardrobe behind him, pulling out a jumper, a pair of worn tracksuit bottoms, a couple of plain white t-shirts. He walks to another set of drawers to get some boxer shorts and socks, moving around with comfortable familiarity, before dipping into the adjoining room, the bathroom Sophie gathers when he comes back holding a toothbrush and toothpaste.

“He doesn’t- The normal kind is always too minty for him,” Daniel explains, holding up the tube that Sophie recognises as a children’s brand, strawberry flavoured, before putting it on top of the small pile of belongings he’s made on the bed.

“Maybe a book?” Sophie suggests, wanting to feel helpful, but Daniel just snorts, not looking back from where he’s back in the wardrobe, reaching on his tiptoes for something off the top shelf.

“Good luck getting Maxy to read,” he says, “but maybe his headphones so he can watch a movie?”

“Sure,” she allows, “where are they?”

“Bedside drawer, but don’t- ah,”

She’s opened, seen, and slammed the drawer shut again in the time it takes for him to say it. Different, bright colours of silicone, and- When she looks back up at him, his face is pink the way hers feels, and his hand is cupping the back of his neck.

“Sorry,” he’s saying, struggling to meet her eye, “I tried to warn you.”

She pastes on the brightest smile she can muster. “It’s okay,” she laughs, but it’s forced, “I should know better than to go poking in my son’s bedroom drawers, maybe- Maybe you can find me a bag, instead, and I will just pack the things to take.”

Daniel nods, “right, yeah, let me just-“ and before long they have a system. Daniel places items, more clothes, a magazine, a phone charger, onto the bed, and Sophie packs them.

“Maybe this too,” he says after a while, holding up a tattered rag he’s retrieved from the bottom of Max’s wardrobe- their wardrobe- that it takes Sophie a moment to recognise.

“Oh,” she says, and the smile that spreads across her face this time is effortless. “I cannot believe he still has kept this.”

It’s her dress, the dress, the one she wore when she had him and gave him when he was a toddler, because Jos said he was not allowed cuddly toys or else he would turn out- Well, turn out exactly the way he has anyway, if the apartment he shares with another man is any indication.

“I used to wrap him up in this when he was a baby,” she explains, taking the dress from Daniel, rubbing the distantly familiar fabric between her fingers. “It was all he was allowed, as a boy, to cuddle. Jos tried to tell me no, but-“

But it was something she had stood her ground and paid the price over.

Daniel nods, “I know,” is all he says, “he loves it very much.”

The words lodge themselves thick in Sophie’s throat, as though she is the one to have spoken them. She remembers what it was like, to hold her new baby, her first baby, in her arms and to know that she would do whatever it took to make sure they were happy.

Even if that meant leaving them behind. It is just that standing in this apartment, in the middle of the life her son felt the need to keep secret from her, she is questioning what the right thing to do was more and more.

At the time, she had felt selfless, but now she just feels naïve.

They gather and pack the rest of Max’s things in silence. It is not until they are done, Sophie standing once more in the kitchen, this time a small duffel between her feet and Daniel’s that she speaks again.

“So how long have you- How long?”

If Daniel is surprised by the question, to his credit, he doesn’t show it.

“Six years,” is all he says, then tilting his head to the side as if to prove he is thinking, “seven in a few months.”

Sophie nods, as though the length of time is not a slap across the face. For seven year her son has loved somebody, and she has never known. Max would have been eighteen, barely. Daniel, what, 26? 27?

It should worry her, she knows, but she finds that strangely it doesn’t. Max is not a liar, it is not in his nature, so for him to have felt the need to hide this from her, it must have been something precious in his eyes. Something worth protecting.

“And I suppose you moved in here, let me think, four years ago?” She asks, and this time he does look shocked, and she relishes the only opportunity she’d had to make him feel this way, when he has caused that same emotion within her countless times since she came through their front door.

“That is around the time he stopped inviting me to stay with him here,” she offers as an explanation when he doesn’t say anything.

His face smoothes over into understanding.

“Ah,” he says, nodding with his lips pursed again, “I thought- Well, my mum, she said she always kinda knew that-“

“That you were with Max?” Sophie interrupts, because this is not something she has considered. Was she supposed to have seen this coming, all the times Max mentioned Daniel, unprompted, during the first season of his career?

“No,” Daniel says though, shaking his head, “I mean about me. My mum always thought I was, well, different was the word she used, but what she meant was ‘a little gay.’” He grins then, as though he expects that to make Sophie laugh, but it doesn’t. “I’m bi though,” he adds in a bit of a rush, as though that matters to her.

Bi. Gay. Which one is Max, she wants to ask, but is afraid she’ll fail some kind of test doing so.

“So your mother does not know? About you and Max?” She questions instead.

“No, she knows,” Daniel admits with a shrug, “my dad too.”

Jealousy spikes within her, and she feels her jaw tighten as she has to look away, to the sea just the other side of the balconies sliding glass door that would be visible if it wasn’t so dark.

“Who else knows?” she eventually demands, voice clipped to her shame.  

“Well, my sister,” Daniel begins, and with that, he gestures to the new photograph stuck to the fridge, the RedBull magnet replaced with one in the shape of a race track. The Yas Marina circuit, if Sophie had to guess.

It’s another photo of the same woman Sophie had thought might be Max’s girlfriend not twenty minutes ago.

“A couple of my best friends, who I trust,” Daniel is continuing, “one of Max’s, you know Martin, right? That’s it though.”

“So Victoria, she does not know?”

Daniel’s eyebrows knit together, and Sophie wonders if he is considering how much he can stretch the truth without it being an out-and-out lie. It stings, to consider that Victoria might know what Sophie did not. She has always, and maybe foolishly so, considered her and her children a trio, one that didn’t keep secrets from each other.

“No,” he says eventually, “I think Max always thought she wouldn’t be able to keep things from you. You two are close.”

They are. Sophie had just thought all three of them were.

“And Max wanted to keep it a secret?” She asks, because that is what she cannot wrap her head around. Her sweet boy, so eager to put his head in her lap to be close to her, hiding, being deceitful.

Eyes glancing towards the door behind her, as though wishing he could use it, could leave this conversation altogether, Daniel sighs. “I think Max is afraid. Of what you would think.” Then, frowning, head tilted to the side as he reconsiders, “of what Jos would think.”

The unhappy look on Daniel’s face at just the mention of her ex-husband’s name has Sophie thinking he knows, just like she does, exactly what Jos would think.

“Max should know better than to assume I would share anything with his father, much less an opinion on this.” She tells him firmly, harsh and unfair considering Daniel has done nothing but try to answer her questions and help her pick things to take to Max in the hospital.

“I think- Look this is something you should talk to Max about, yeah?” He allows, an apologetic smile on his face. “But if- Look if you really don’t care, tell him that. Go to him first. He’ll open up if you push him, trust me.”

She nods, as though this isn’t strange. As though it isn’t her who should be giving him advice on how to handle her son, and not the other way around. She is his mother, and yet, this man she hardly knows, knows Max so much better.

“Thank you,” she says, grateful anyway.

Daniel just hums in acknowledgement, eyes fixed on where he is picking at one thumbnail using the other. There are a few beats of silence, and then he is speaking again.

“Is Jos still at the hospital?”

It’s then that Sophie considers how terrible this must be for him. To be stuck here, in the home he shares with her son, when he should be there, by his side.

“Yes,” she tells him, and now it’s her turn for the apologetic smile, “but not for much longer. We- Obviously we are not supposed to be in the same room together, and I know he was planning to fly home soon.”

Daniel doesn’t say anything, doesn’t look at her. Keeps picking at his thumbnail.

“Would you like to come?” She asks.

He snorts then. “Of course I do, but-“ He shrugs, doesn’t need to say what is the unspoken truth they both know.

It is important that Jos does not know.

It is important to Max that it stays that way.

[mobius-m-mobius]

a mr tesseract thought: the tva has so many infinity stones… just sitting there… they might not notice a handful of paperweights go missing

Anon you've got my full attention 👀👀

Absolutely living for all the renewed Mr. Tesseract theories and origin stores going around because he's just too perfect to continue the current story!?? I'd always pictured a Mobius variant eventually entering the picture, having succumbed to the power of the Tesseract after needing to save Loki in some way but never in a million years imagined before now that *our* Mobius could end up in that exact situation...

Plus tbh I almost feel Loki going about their self-sacrifice in such an isolated way, reliving all those centuries determined to find a solution without involving anyone else, had an obviously noble goal but a means in such a misguided way which has almost ensured Mobius will do something similar.

Mobius isn't okay. He's on a timeline that can never be his (partially to escape the memories of Loki by his side everywhere he looks in the TVA and hopefully so that back in the flow of time Loki can at least see him again as some form of company still), looking at a life I think he greatly admires but wouldn't personally want even given the choice, and seemingly the only one left directionless and without purpose with Loki being gone.

It wouldn't be a stretch to think loneliness would turn to frustration (because he's done nothing but repress *everything* in the past and deserves to finally burst and be angry and figure out how to express his emotions), confusion, and finally desperation at the thought he might be the only one who cares enough to burn things to the ground in an attempt to either find Loki again or bring him home. I've been headcanoning that similar to Loki in the last episode, Mobius will start putting himself more and more at risk searching for a solution and cut everyone at the TVA off while doing so to keep them from worrying about what he's getting involved in and stop him, which of course eventually leads right to the Tesseract as potentially one of the only methods left of traveling to what I assume is the end of time or somewhere similar.

Bonus points if Loki is watching every moment, unable to do a thing as the Mobius he knows slips further and further away while experimenting with the Tesseract until finally he can't see him on the timeline at all anymore, and as he mourns a crackle of blue energy opens nearby. Loki immediately realizes what's happened and calls desperately for Mobius, but when the figure who exits steps closer he's all cold, hard lines and an blank, electric blue stare. Temporary amnesia v4.0 let's go but make it even more angsty this time 😂😅 Eventually the Power of Love™ wins out of course but that's pretty much my dream arc for now!

[myuminji]

Why did you turn off reblogs?

Dear lord I think I got this question too many times alrd HASGFDH I'll copy paste the answer I replied to someone the other day:

for a few reasons actually: when a tumblr post gets reblogged, it'll stay on another person's blog even after the OG post got deleted. Most of the art I made unrebloggable are either unfinished or too sketchy for me, or something I might wanna delete in the future. so to prevent my unfinished art/sketches from staying outside my blog even if I delete it, I've decided to make them unrebloggable instead! Also to prevent it from spreading around, I suppose.

I hope this helps! 🤲

[apneusance]

modern fem hakase because she's constantly on my mind recently 🌹

[faaun]

anyway this upcoming trip w my gf. will decide a lot i think

[toastsnaffler]

sometimes I wish I was a more interesting + charismatic person just so I could keep conversations going bc I like sharing space with other ppl but they routinely lose all interest and leave once I run out of things to say/start talking abt things that don't concern them :-(

[lilowoof]

Time to be whimsical on a sunday night.

But I've been thinking about my upcoming bday (mainly what I wanna do for it/where to eat lmao). But something else that has been on my mind is that in a few years I will be entering my 30s. And I am strangely excited for it??

The mid to late 20's have been really hard on me and honestly, I wasn't expecting to still be around to ever reach my 30s. But here I am! I finished my main schooling!!! And while I am suffering with some sort of mental boo boos, I am slowly learning more about myself and slowly trying to let go of all the past demons. It's taking time but eventually I will be ok again.

I have the power to get out there to meet new ppl, and ppl who are around the same cycle of life as I am. And it's exciting to think about! While I would love to devote most of my time to salmon running, I've lately come to realize that I wanna put my time more into my life on top of that. Meet someone who I can actually connect and grow with. Where I can still salmon run and game but also experience more in the life ahead of me! (and perhaps some couple gaming? I've always liked that in past relationships hehhe)

Do I wanna get married? IDK! But damn do I want to get proposed to. And I wanna go to more events in the city!!! And more P!nk concerts (tho it's getting to be a bit too expensive now hahah...)

LIKE. Life ain't perfect and I am anticipating some hard upcoming struggles. I am still dealing with financial abuse and repairing my savings after those issues. BUT LIKE. LIFE is still going, and I can try my best to make it the best it can be!!!!