#i could be doing so much more for the community with my time like making everyone bread

[goldenhazelnut]

Chasing The Calm || Max Verstappen

summary: When a young, determined intern crosses paths with Formula 1 champion Max Verstappen, their connection defies expectations.

Your heart raced as you walked through the paddock. As an intern in the Red Bull communications team, being part of the Formula 1 world was a dream come true. At just 21 years old, you were the youngest on the team, always trying to prove you deserved to be there.

Max Verstappen, on the other hand, was your opposite. At 27, he was already a four-time world champion who seemed to have lived a thousand lives at Formula 1’s relentless pace. Your paths often crossed, but only in fleeting smiles or quick “thank yous” in passing. Until that night.

After another long workday, you were sitting in one of the common areas, reviewing some notes. The paddock was nearly deserted, save for the sound of approaching footsteps. When you looked up, Max stood there, watching you curiously.

“Do you always work this late?” he asked, his voice calm, marked by his distinct Dutch accent.

“Not always,” you replied, trying to maintain a professional demeanor. “Just making sure everything’s ready for tomorrow.”

He tilted his head slightly, studying you. “Always so dedicated. Shouldn’t you be out enjoying the night? You’re young; you’ve got the energy for it.”

You laughed softly, trying to hide your nervousness. “Maybe. But it looks like you’re still here too, so I could say the same about you.”

Max smiled, a genuine one. He pulled out the chair beside you and sat down—a move you didn’t expect. “Fair enough. I guess I’ve spent so much time here I’ve forgotten what a normal night feels like.”

A comfortable silence settled between you, a rarity amidst the chaos of paddock life. You could feel his gaze on you—not invasive, but thoughtful, like he was trying to piece you together.

“So,” he began, breaking the silence, “what brought you to Formula 1?”

“It’s been my dream for as long as I can remember,” you admitted, resting your chin on your hand. “I love the sport, the competition… and I wanted to prove to myself I could get here, even being younger than most.”

Max nodded, as though he understood more than he let on. “I get it. When I joined, I was 17. Everyone said I was too young, that I wasn’t ready. But I think that just made me want to work harder.”

Your eyes met his, and you realized that despite the differences in your age and experience, there was something you shared—a determination to prove yourselves.

“You’re different,” he said suddenly.

“How so?”

“You’re… calm. Most people who are confident talk a lot, try to prove they know everything. But you’re quiet. It’s… refreshing.”

Your throat went dry. You hadn’t expected him to say that, but something about his sincerity made you feel at ease.

“Well, maybe it’s because I’m still learning,” you said with a small smile. “And maybe because I think there’s more to gain from listening than talking.”

He let out a soft chuckle, low and genuine. “You know, I think you’re right.”

A Few Days Later

Your encounters with Max became more frequent. He always found a reason to talk to you—a quick “good luck” before a press conference or a casual “How’s it going?” during a break.

One evening, as the sun dipped low, painting the paddock in warm tones, Max called you over for a conversation. You stood together by the track, away from the buzz of activity.

“You know,” he began, leaning against a safety barrier, “I should probably tell you to stay away from me.”

You frowned, confused. “Why?”

“Because this world is messy. My life is messy. I’m not exactly the kind of guy who can offer you stability.”

You crossed your arms, trying to mask the sting of his words. “And what makes you think I want stability?”

He blinked, caught off guard by your response. “Most people do.”

“I’m not most people,” you said firmly, meeting his gaze.

He sighed, running a hand through his hair. “That’s what I’m afraid of. You’re different. You’re... honest, and grounded. And being around you makes me forget the chaos. But that’s dangerous—for you and for me.”

You stepped closer, your voice softer but unwavering. “Maybe I don’t mind a little danger. Maybe you shouldn’t decide what’s best for me.”

His eyes searched yours, conflicted but vulnerable in a way you hadn’t seen before. “You don’t know what you’re getting into.”

“Then let me find out,” you said, offering a small, reassuring smile.

For a moment, the world seemed to stand still. Max hesitated, then reached out, brushing a stray strand of hair from your face. His touch was gentle, his expression tender yet uncertain.

“You’re stubborn,” he murmured, a hint of amusement in his voice.

“Maybe,” you replied. “But so are you.”

He laughed softly, the tension easing slightly. “You’re going to make my life even more complicated, aren’t you?”

“Probably,” you teased. “But isn’t that what makes it worth it?”

Max shook his head, a mix of exasperation and admiration. “You’re impossible.”

“And yet, here you are,” you pointed out with a smirk.

He didn’t reply right away, but the look in his eyes said everything. Slowly, he leaned in, his forehead resting against yours.

“Just promise me one thing,” he whispered.

“What’s that?”

“Don’t regret it.”

You smiled, your heart pounding but your voice steady. “I won’t. Will you?”

For the first time, Max didn’t have an answer. Instead, he kissed you, the world around you fading away as you both took the first step into something neither of you could predict but both of you craved.

[lukas-broken-bow]

Why is your name that?

Mine is this because when I first started tumblr I was hyperfixating on an OC called Oscar who got kidnapped by an evil doctor/ringmaster. (He was called Valentine which was ironic because Saint Valentine was a doctor who was a beloved figure and all of the people Dr. Valentine kidnapped to be in his show hated him. But also because he’s aroace and loves all his victims like pets but he’s namesakes with a holiday about non platonic love.) Valentine would do a thing where- You know how some taxidermists will make mythical creatures out of several different animal species’ parts? He would do that with living things. He would use surgeries and chemicals to combine living creatures together to make monsters for his show. There was also a carnival that he also owned that traveled with the circus/was part of it. And in that carnival was a “zoo” thing for artificial monsters who refused to perform. Like Oscar. So Valentine turned Oscar into a have snake. (Like the shape a mermaid is, but with a snake instead of a fish.) Valentine has chemicals that can make things grow more than they should to fit whatever creatures they’re supposed to be attached to. So he did that with the snake and mixed up it’s organs so that it’s brain could go in in its back somewhere and be connected up to Oscar’s brain so that they could communicate mentally. Now Valentine put the snake’s fangs, tongue, and vocal cords into Oscar’s mouth and throat (so now he can’t talk and he’s venomous.) But you understand. It’s still the snake’s brain controlling all the snake parts. And the snake would have conflict with Oscar at first. But then they would slowly meld into one consciousness because they can both feel each other’s physical sensations and emotions and they’re aware of all of each other’s thoughts, so like. Intuitively, I felt like they would stop being able to tell the difference eventually and just become different facets of the same person.

Anyway, Oscar really, really likes plants. He’s a gardener professionally and on his own because he grows a lot of his own food. (Made his own rain catching irrigation system.) So Valentine offered him a bunch of options for a new name. “Oscar” simply isn’t exotic or snakelike enough. And while Oscar wasn’t going to respond to anything other than his real name, Valentine was going to name tag him with whatever he chose, so it did actually matter. There was one single option for a new name that was anything related to a plant. He decided he would choose that one out of. I guess it was some sort of tie to what he used to do? The name was Basil. Oscar thinks of it as the snake’s name.

So Basil the snaking thing. Now I think I would rename myself “Parsley the Crow” since that’s more accurate to me, but everyone knows me as this and I have friends and branding to keep up with.

(Oscar eventually managed to grow a bunch of plants in his cage as an act of rebellion. Mostly ferns.)

okay, first of all, that lore is FIRE. second, branding is very important so good on you for maintaining your brand.

now, regarding myself, I am, as has been proven, a nerd. I am such a nerd, in fact, that my favourite band of all time is 2CELLOS, a cello duo comprised of Luka Šulić and Stjepan Hauser that has since broken up. I grew up OBSESSED with their music (I used to beg my mother to watch their music videos every day). they basically designed my pop culture taste. I got into AC/DC because 2CELLOS covered Thunderstruck. they covered the Pirates of the Caribbean theme, so I watched the films. I became interested in time travel (now a dear obsession) because one of their music videos involved them doing rocking cello solos in the Georgian era, and I began hc-ing that they travelled back in time to do it (this was when I was maybe nine). I loved them SO MUCH (still do, but now I also have other interests music-wise and pop culture-wise).

when I was around twelve or thirteen years old, I finally got the chance to go to one of their concerts; my grandparents were in town for my birthday, and as a gift, they bought me tickets to the 2CELLOS tour. at that point, I had just gotten into the internet and didn’t really have a brand or a consistent url, and I didn’t know what I wanted it to be. and then, at the concert (which was AMAZING), Luka played the cello so hard his bow broke. the coolest thing my tiny child self had ever seen.

that was the moment I forever became Luka’s Broken Bow.

funnily enough, for my birthday this year, I got tickets to go see Luka solo in concert in April. who knows, maybe he’ll break his bow again.

[crescenthistory]

analyze regulus black sunshine reader? like reader is js such good friends with ppl and socializes sm? maybe he gets jealous over how close she is with people? like how does he bring it up to her? :)

hi there darling<3 i would love to! i have also already written several full-length fics about sunshine!reader with reggie, including "you occupy my every thought" (where reg doesn't understand reader's love for him) and "are you falling asleep on me?" (where reader spends late nights in the library with him), if you want to see more 🤞

✶・•・✦・•・✶・✶・•・✦・•・✶

i will ANALYSE regulus black with a sunshine!reader

carina's 2k celebration

✶・•・✦・•・✶・✶・•・✦・•・✶

cw: gn!reader, reg's mental health struggles

regulus had always used his cold demeanor, family reputation that preceded him and lack of social skills as a shield to protect himself

it's better to keep everyone away than to risk under- or overestimating anyone he chose to let in

he had a close knit group of friends in the rosier twins, barty and dorcas, and he told himself time and time again that he didn't want or need more

which is why you walking into his life and choosing him effortlessly was so disorientating and hard to swallow for him

someone who was considered lively, beautiful and pure like you had no place in regulus' orbit, he was certain of it

yet you just settled down like it was the most natural thing in the world

sunshine!reader who loves regulus not just despite every obstacle he has thrown up to keep you from doing so, but even specifically because of it

sunshine!reader who looks at him and sees him instead of looking past

sunshine!reader who is not just bubbly but emotionally intelligent and willing to hold space for regulus in that way he desperately needs but is unable to convey

everything that regulus thought it a given that people dislike in him, you adored -> his deadpan humour that most people found rude, you found hilarious, his quiet and reserved self that sirius always called boring, you found serenity in

and you were so painfully patient and kind with him, never demanding, just showing up and loving him in a way he thought impossible

how could he not fall for you?

it took him a long time to get used to the feeling, let alone act on it or speak it out loud

i believe most romances with regulus, especially from "unexpected" people, would have to start as friendships that he slowly builds up trust and comfort in

which any sunshine!reader would fully understand and encourage him in, making him all the more infatuated

i think regulus would view sunshine!reader as kind of holy, someone who can do no wrong and is perfect all the way through

so if you were to ever reference or communicate any insecurity about being too much, too loud, too bubbly, etc. he would be just so thoroughly confused

i think he might not even understand what you're trying to say until a while later

at which point he would approach you and be like "hold up, what?"

which hits even more if this happens pre-relationship while he's still getting comfortable with you, but his reaction just couldn't be contained

it was simply unheard of to regulus that you view yourself as anything short of perfect

similarly, if anyone made jokes at your expense, he would wield every bit of his harsh facade and reputation that precedes him to ensure it doesn't happen again

barty and evan understand from pretty much the first week of your friendship that you are not to be messed with, and they respect both you and regulus for it

they need to tease someone though, so instead they focus all their energy on how lovesick regulus is becoming

when it comes to jealousy, i think regulus would be more jealous of what sunshine!reader can do than who they're with

it seems to him that everything is easy to you, that it just comes naturally to you to be such a kind individual

i believe his love for you would be permanently settled when he comes to understand that it's not easy for you, but that you do it anyway; it's not natural, it's hard fought for

yet, as he goes on his own healing journey, a part of him would be so envious to hear you navigate through difficult feelings with kindness and logic or see you get on so openly with those around you

he would be so glad you are able to do that and that you get to be completely surrounded by love – he just longs for it for himself

i think he would also be jealous of your friends for being able to match your energy so well

there would be many many conversations where regulus goes "you deserve better" and you go "but i want you"

seeing you and sirius shoot banter back and forth like it's nothing or see you run up to braid lily's hair at a moment's notice would both heal and break something in regulus

he's once again confronted with everything he could be, feels like maybe he should be, but can't

because regulus' personality, no matter how healed he is, is never super outgoing and sunshine-y – when he's with close friends, he is much more lively and filled with banter and jokes and even some physical affection. but it's never the same as your friends.

he wonders if he should be more

you keep showing him every day that he doesn't need to be, that you love him because he's him; he doesn't need to change for you

when he becomes more comfortable in your relationship, his ideal time of voicing any such feelings would be at night in bed

with the lights turned off and his face buried in your skin somewhere, he feels safe enough to be vulnerable with you

you'll drag your fingers through his hair and talk him down every time

the best part of being with regulus is getting to love him through the healing process and see him separate his personality from his coping mechanisms and fully blossom

i think it would be a bumpy ride, but what he needs throughout it all is a rock

his sunshine!reader

i also believe he would call sunshine!reader for sun related nicknames, particularly in french (soleil anyone?)

[tarareindeer]

₊✩‧₊Hidden Secrets₊✩‧₊

author's note : " ..just got time after doing the house chores...not much story but i try to write longer in the second part. Got the impression story and aesthetic from @nhaaauyen story called 'The Ghost of You "

PART 1 : I found you...

┊zombie apocalypse & omegaverse ┊

sevika {Alpha} x fem reader {omega} au!: Sevika a survivalist Alpha leading a treehouse community. You were just a wandering Omega with a secret, scraping by in the ruins of a dead world—until she caught you. One stolen backpack and a bottle of heat suppressants later, she made her intentions clear: you weren’t going anywhere. Survival wasn’t enough for her anymore; maybe you were the answer to something bigger.

cw : cursing,blunt behaviour?,brainrot

The forest was way too quiet for your liking. Like, “main character about to get jumped” kinda quiet. You adjusted the straps of your beat-up backpack, muttering under your breath as you scanned the treeline.

"God, I just want some ramen and a nap, not a zombie ambush," you whispered to no one, side-eyeing a squirrel that darted across your path like it had beef with you.

You’d found some canned soup and a box of stale crackers in the ruins of an old gas station, which, honestly, was the highlight of your week. But luck in this hellscape was a limited resource, and you knew better than to count on it.

That’s when it happened.

Something big way bigger than a squirrel grabbed you from behind. A hand like a damn vice clamped onto your arm, spinning you around so fast you barely had time to process what was happening.

"Whoa, whoa, WHOA-!" you yelped, only to freeze as you got a good look at your attacker.

Sevika.

Tall, built like a tank, and looking at you like you were her next meal. Her mechanical arm gleamed faintly in the sunlight, and her sharp jawline could’ve cut glass. The scar running down her face only made her look more terrifying and.....fucking hot.

"Just—just a girl, out here minding her business, y’know? No need for the death grip, lady!" she drawled, voice low and rough, like gravel under boots.

She snorted, clearly unimpressed with your flailing attempts to free yourself. "Minding your business? Out here?" She leaned closer, dark eyes narrowing. Try again."

Before you could argue, she reached down and yoinked your backpack off your shoulder like you weren’t even holding it.

"Hey! That’s my stuff!" you snapped, watching helplessly as she unzipped it and started rummaging through your belongings like she was at a yard sale.

"Your stuff?" Sevika raised an eyebrow, pulling out a can of soup. "Yeah, not anymore."

You fumed, crossing your arms. "Cool, love that for you. Take my last two meals. It’s not like I wanted to live or anything."

Her lips twitched like she was fighting back a smirk. But then, her hand froze. Slowly, she pulled out a small, unassuming bottle.

The blood drained from your face.

"Oh," she said, her tone suddenly sharp. She turned the bottle of heat suppressants over in her hand, examining it like it was the most interesting thing she’d ever seen. "Didn’t peg you for an Omega."

"Okay, first of all, rude," you shot back, though your voice wavered. "Second of all give that back!"

She ignored you, her eyes flicking back to your face. Her smirk returned, slower this time, more predatory.

"You’ve been hiding," she murmured, stepping closer.

You stumbled back, heart pounding as your instincts screamed at you to run. But where were you even gonna go? She was huge, fast, and had robotic strength. Your brain said fight, but your body was stuck on buffering.

"I'm not hiding," you managed to stammer, trying to sound tough and failing miserably.

"Sure," Sevika drawled, taking another step forward. Her gaze softened for a split second, though you weren’t sure if it was pity or something else entirely. Then, she sniffed the air—subtle, but enough to make your stomach drop.

Great. Of course she could smell you.

"Let me guess," she said, her voice dropping lower. "You thought these little pills were gonna keep me from noticing?" She held up the suppressants, shaking them lightly.

You glared at her, trying to mask your panic with sarcasm. "Yeah, well, they usually do! Maybe your nose is broken, ever think of that?"

Her smirk widened. "Not broken. Just better."

You wanted to disappear into the dirt, but instead, you did the next best thing: you bolted.

Well, you tried to bolt.

Before you could take two steps, Sevika’s arm shot out, grabbing you by the waist and hoisting you up like you weighed nothing.

"Alright, that’s enough of that," she muttered, slinging you over her shoulder like a sack of potatoes.

"Put me down! you walking brick wall!" you yelled, pounding your fists uselessly against her back.

"Not a chance, princess," she shot back, starting to walk.

Hours later, you were still fuming as Sevika dragged you through the forest. She’d barely said a word, aside from the occasional grunt when you tried to squirm out of her grip.

"Seriously, where are you even taking me?" you asked, your voice muffled against her shoulder.

"You'll see," she said gruffly.

When you finally arrived, you stopped dead in your tracks. Rising out of the forest was the biggest tree you’d ever seen, its massive branches weaving into the sky. High above the ground, nestled in its boughs, was an actual treehouse like something out of a Pinterest board.

The tree itself was ancient, its thick trunk twisted and gnarled like something out of a fantasy novel. Surrounding the base was a wide steel fence reinforced with scrap metal, forming a protective barrier from the undead...

Inside the fence, small vegetable gardens thrived Clotheslines stretched between makeshift poles, drying laundry in the sun. Wooden platforms spiraled up the trunk, leading to a sprawling treehouse nestled high in the canopy.

This wasn’t some rickety shack it was a stronghold filled with community of survivors.

"Welcome home," Sevika said, glancing back at you with a smirk.

"Home?" you echoed, your brain short-circuiting. "This is your hideout? What are you, a Disney princess?"

She rolled her eyes, grabbing your arm and hauling you up the rope ladder that led to multiple rooms in the tree house. "Call it whatever you want. It’s safe."

Sevika explained as she guided you closer, her tone gruff but proud, "Most of us here are Betas. A few Alphas and Omegas too. We all do what we can to keep this place running."

"Why are you doing this?" you asked, crossing your arms as you turned to face her.

long silence...as she led you to her room in the tree house which was small and cozy...filled with stuff that might be gotten from scavenging.

Sevika leaned against the wall, crossing her own arms as she looked at you. For a moment, she didn’t answer. Her gaze softened, and the cocky smirk slipped just slightly.

"Because you wouldn’t last a week out there," she said finally. "And because…" She hesitated, her eyes flicking to yours. "Iam just going to breed you." ....she said a bit bluntly but hesitantly..like she was hiding the truth.

Your cheeks warmed as she stepped closer, her towering frame making you feel tiny. Her hand brushed a stray hair from your face, and for a second, you forgot how to breathe.

"You’re trouble," Sevika murmured, her voice low and almost… gentle. "But you’re mine now."

[tododeku-or-bust]

https://www.tumblr.com/tododeku-or-bust/744837858426339328/yes-nonblack-people-can-reblog-id-appreciate

i apologise if i come off as rude and i know it’s not black fans’ responsibility to educate white fans. but as a white fan, what do you think white fans can do to fight racism in fandom spaces? because even when i stumble upon something that reads to me as racist, i don’t know if it’s my wrong interpretation as a white person and if i should say something or be quiet. /gen

I have a reblog in that post that answers this question, but that post is now at least 150k strong with only half really getting the point and I'm not scrolling that long so 😅 I'll just say it again.

(the post was about BLACK PEOPLE. So I'm going to discuss antiblackness, bc that's who I was talking to)

1. Actually share community with Black people!

Half the reason people "don't see" antiblackness when it's happening is because you're not around any Black people in your fandoms to begin with. So when you see what is inevitably racism, you probably dismiss it as "drama" because that's what the racists (!) around you are framing it as. If you actually saw the responses from the party being wronged, you'd learn what to look out for when it happened. And even if you weren't confident, someone that IS confident could use the support- bc they're gonna be far meaner to that Black fan than they'll ever be to you! But ofc you don't see racism when there are conveniently no Black people around you to point it out. Bc trust, there is no fandom space- no space period- free of it. So... Try listening to the Black people that ARE in your spaces! Support their voices, so that you can start fighting that fight on your own!

2. Think about how much antiblackness you let slide, and try to be active about not doing so!

One of the hardest things for me to swallow is not usually the OG racist poster, but the thousands of people who usually agree with them, and then the tens of thousands of others who might not agree, but continue to support that person otherwise because antiblackness is not a deal breaker for them! You might think you're a friend to Black people, but based off the people you hang around... probably not! And we see that!

So you'll watch someone be mask-off antiblack, but "oh their art is so good though" or "but I love their LGBTQ/fandom takes" yeah okay so I see that I am not a part of the safe community that you value or picture, got it.

You have to actually ask yourself, consistently- because antiracism is an active thing, it's decisions you make- "is this thing I'm participating in worth the antiblackness I'm allowing?" Sometimes you're gonna say yes. But if you find yourself saying "yes" far more often than you're saying "no", it's time to admit that you're not being antiracist 😅 and if that identity actually means anything to you, you'll have to start making some better choices!

So, is this person's cool art worth them being a whitewasher? Is this video game series worth the creators being racist? Is this musical worth the racist stereotypes it's perpetuating? Is this person's otherwise cool politics worth them treating Black people like shit? Is being seen as a racist worth keeping me safe in this fandom (that would treat me horribly if I didn't? Are they really my community, then?)? Is my temporary entertainment worth more than someone's humanity?

I think when we choose to be honest with ourselves, and are willing to ask ourselves questions like that, we might recognize just how much control we have over our own racism, and at least how we can minimize our own harm. Bc you can only control you! And you don't have to do or allow the things you allow!

3. Call it out!

I don't think everything warrants a call out. But, sometimes y'all got to be willing to say "hey, this isn't cool, dude". The whole "1 Nazi, 9 patrons, 10 Nazis" thing. I have a post about it somewhere on the CBC page 😭 But yeah. Sometimes things will be right in y'alls faces and you say nothing. And all that does is encourage others with those same beliefs to show up and think that you're okay with them. I really do wish that when you were confident, you spoke up. Or at least told your peers in private "hey, such and such did this antiblack thing and it made me uncomfortable so I'm not going to support them anymore". SOMETHING.

[tackytigerfic]

This fic took a lot for me to write — in a good way, but it was still a lot. Time and energy and commitment and thought and all of those juicy things. And then it was done and posted and part of me missed it, is still missing it. I've spent so long in its world that being without it feels weird. So to see this art emerge from one of the scenes feels like closure or, dare I say, fulfillment. I wrote that scene to be a moment of harmony and community in the middle of a war. This art takes that feeling and expands it into a new realm, and brings it depth and vividness and a sense of magic and energy. It is this writer's dream to be seen and understood in such a way, and to get in turn to bask in the way joy saw and shaped the world. I saw the art less than a day ago and have already pored over it so many times, zooming in on every tiny space and getting to see the intuition, the transformative and collaborative mingling in such beauty and character and detail. This scene is everything that i could have hoped for in that it feels exactly as i wanted it to feel (Rosie so perfectly childlike and joyful, the focus and contentment of harry and draco who are finally becoming friends after years of hurt and loneliness, a moment of joy and distraction for malfoy who is alone in another world, his red string trailing out of the world, seeking.... plus all the DETAILS there is so much to marvel at) but it feels like the essence of joy's art too, which takes it out of my brain and puts something else into the world, and I'm so grateful.

To have joy with us again feels like Good Things distilled, something precious and very much hoped for. Thank you joy, I'm honoured to have this, it has made me more happy than i can even convey. And to have it as a gift from sweet and Maester too - my two dear friends, who poured more energy, time, and thought into this fic than anyone has a right to ask, to do it so generously without ever making me feel like the horror i was (let me stress again... THREE YEARS of listening to me and talking me through and reading hundreds of thousands of words and taking all the shit and helping me fix it). Not to sound trite but I'll never forget this. Thank you.

art inspired by first watch of night by @tackytigerfic

“Rosie!” Harry shouted joyfully from somewhere over their heads, and then they heard a “woah” and the creak of something old and wooden, and looked up just in time to see Harry, holding one of the fencing swords from the training room, balanced on the upper bannister of the mezzanine stairs, his body twisting lithely away from a flashing flurry of something.

hello! this is the first time i’ve done something in my… actual style on here in forever, but what better cause for it than tacky’s new incredible, epic fic. this piece is a gift from @sweet-s0rr0w and @maesterchill!

like the characters of this story, i’m blessed with good friends in every universe i inhabit, especially this one. i was completely swept up by what it must have felt like to be in that library - a heavy, hard-won, sudden happiness, the kind that often appears in tacky’s work. i felt the need to do something that would visually translate the immense detail, whimsy and familiarity of that moment.

the chapter title comes from a wilfred owen poem, and i continued to borrow from him for the piece - the big sigil made by malfoy and rosie, as well as the small ones helping harry and draco duel, are all coded from lines from two of his poems.

from training day:

harry - none else may meet me till I wear my crown

draco - my renown be the clean beauty of speed and pride of style

the big sigil malfoy and rosie are casting comes from owen’s poem the end and it spells out: all death annul, all tears assuage.

i hope you all go and read this incredible story (and tacky's entire back catalog) and i hope you're all happy and safe forever.

[bengiyo]

Ben’s Queer Cinema Reviews #1

I often spend a lot of my writing time on BL reactions and reviews. However, I came to BL through queer cinema, and so I want to devote more space on my blog this year to the queer films I also watch along the way. Like the BL Blurbs, I’ll post these probably once a month as a round up of what I’ve watched recently. Today I’ll react to Queer, High Tide, and Paradise of Thorns. Spoilers ahead.

Queer:  A Disturbingly Charming Look at Addiction

When I first learned of this film, I was really excited to see Daniel Craig and Drew Starkey cast as the leads. Both are well-trained and extremely talented actors, and I knew they would give earnest, committed experiences. We got far more than I expected from these two in what evolves into a mesmerizing display of addiction. Yet what lingers with me the most is how singularly I understood the emotional gap between the characters and its commentary on queer existence. 

Craig uses his quintessential charm in what might be his most unlikeable character to date, and I was compelled by how much I couldn’t look away from the mess that was William Lee, an American expat living in 1950s Mexico to sate his desire for drugs and flesh. His pathetic attempts to cajole and entice men to his bed consistently land as weak and a bit sad rather than aggressive or perverse. The consistent layer of polite disdain most characters express for Lee stands out alongside Lee’s clear decision to ignore it. 

Starkey plays the hot twink in a way that comes across as effortless. His character remains completely unknowable throughout the film, and yet the ravenous way he plays Eugene Allerton’s food and sexual habits makes him so alluring. Eugene constantly surprises William and viewers with his willingness to partake in Lee’s escapades, and even care for him when Lee gets sick. Yet, every time he goes cold on Lee it’s completely reasonable and expected. I sympathized with Lee’s desperation to know and understand Eugene, even as I understood that there was no way that Eugene could ever give Lee all the things he needed. 

As we get deeper into the film, we learn that Lee is addicted to narcotics, and he cites it as the primary reason he couldn’t remain in America with his “condition.” He takes Eugene with him on a mission to meet someone who can give him access to ayahuasca, and the two go on a psychedelic journey that unlocks a deeper connection within them than I think either was ready to experience. The two separate in a way that leaves Lee forever incomplete in a way that I think properly honors the unfinished source material from a controversial writer. Still, I found myself attuned to Lee’s desperate loneliness and self destructive tendencies, as well as the affection and loyalty his friend Joe (Jason Schwartzman) showed him. 

Final Verdict: 8.5, Recommended With Reservations. This is a beautiful, if difficult, film in quite a few ways, what with its surprisingly lurid depictions of sex, frank presentation of drug use, and gross behaviors Lee exhibits. However, for the types of queer cinephiles who still yearn for the complex depictions of queer men before the AIDS crisis, and for those who love to see charmingly messy gay men, I do recommend the film. The painful emotional gap keeping all of the gay men in this film from full connection and community with each other. It lingers like a bad taste on the mouth as a reminder that most of these men are playing around in what would be exotic settings for them to take advantage of what they can’t get back home, and that many of their peers back home will end up selling out their own community when things turn rough.

High Tide: A Melancholic Look at Moving On

In High Tide, Lourenço (Marco Pigossi), a 30-something year-old Brazilian man finds himself floundering in Provincetown at the end of the big tourist season struggling to move on from an unexpected breakup. He traveled to the US to be with his boyfriend, but is abandoned and left in the wind with nothing but a tourist visa. Cared for by the kindly Scott (Bill Irwin), Lourenço makes ends meet by working under the table cleaning short term rentals. One day while swimming, he meets Maurice (James Bland) and a spark grows between them. 

I enjoyed the complex intersectional nature of this film and its look at the cruising culture of places like Provincetown. We get to explore the effects of an HIV exposure and how quickly that can happen alongside the ways wealth and race intersect in queer spaces. Maurice, a tall, beautiful Black man, feels isolated and alone in such a white environment, and yet his wealth and citizenship in some ways makes him more secure than Lourenço. Maurice also offers us the opportunity to examine our presumptions about Black queer masculinity and what pleasure looks like between two men. A difficult moment between Maurice and Scott lingers with me. 

This film had a lot of complex feelings about queer friendship, family and faith, how drugs fit into party culture, and how generational gaps inform queer interactions. The spiral of this film was tense and gripping. My friends and I commented as we went along how expected each new crushing moment felt as things fell apart around Lourenço, and how the film made sure to not paint anyone as unbelievably perfect. The recognizable humanity in every character underscores the emotional conflicts and connections across the entire film. 

Final Verdict: 9: Highly Recommended. This is definitely my favorite of the three films. I found myself revisiting many of the emotions I felt in the untimeliness of the connection in Weekend (2011), and the pain of trying to move on as you age up in the closet in Pit Stop (2013). The bittersweet ending of this film left a memorable impression on me, and I know I’ll be returning to it as a meditation many times in the future. Lourenço’s grief may be one of my favorite experiences I’ve had with queer angst in recent years, alongside All of Us Strangers (2023). Also, Marisa Tomei is a producer and actor in the film!

The Paradise of Thorns: A Violent Glimpse Into Greed and Avarice in a Declining World

The Paradise of Thorns sets us in the fallout of a succession battle after the partner of a gay man dies unexpectedly, and the durian orchard they spent five years building together passes to the partner’s mom instead. While I went into this film with a lot of excited about Jeff Satur playing the lead role of Thongkram, along with Engfa, in a story directed and produced by Boss Kuno, this was not my favorite outing for everyone involved.

Thongkram (Jeff Satur) loses his partner, Sek (Pongsakorn Mettarikanon), to an accidental head injury on their farm. He rushes Sek to the hospital, but he doesn’t possess the legal authority to authorize treatment on Sek’s behalf. Meanwhile, Sek’s mother Saeng (Srida Puapimol) and caretaker Mo (Engfa Waraha) struggle to make the three hour journey to reach the hospital (Saeng no longer has use of her legs, and Mo is on a borrowed motorcycle). Despite humiliating himself, doctors cannot authorize treatment on Sek and he passes away before they arrive.

After they bury Sek, Saeng and Mo move onto the farm and steadily push Thongkram out of his own home. Thongkram tries to fight this in court, but loses badly. Meanwhile, Saeng and Mo bring another young man, Jingna (Harit Buayoi), onto the farm to learn from Thongkram so they can get rid of him. A series of mind games plays out across the film as Mo and Thongkram vie for the trust of Saeng in the hopes of gaining control of the farm after she dies, culminating in a brutal showdown at night.

Final Verdict: 7.5, Recommended With Reservations. For this film, I think many of the ideas rushed ahead without grounding them in accessible character motivation. I think, in particular, Thongkram’s romance with Jingna didn’t track very well for me, nor did the wavering relationship he had with Mo. I think there are probably two or three scenes missing that would have given us the belief that the two of them and Jingna could have made it as a trio before things went to shit, but the film didn’t seem to know how to accomplish that with Saeng holding all the power in the dynamics here. Moreover, I think this film undercut its own messages about queer rights by complicating Sek’s relationship and role in all of the drama here. This film feels strongest as a commentary on poverty and greed as people fight over a durian orchard planted as a monoculture on degraded land more than as a queer film with strong themes and ideas there. Still, it is a beautiful film with compelling performances from Jeff and Engfa. The final showdown is extremely brutal, and I’d advise viewers sensitive to all kinds of violence to watch with caution.

[ionobjectshow]

Hello granddad!! Really enjoyed the new episode by the way :D I just wanted to ask something, I dont know if you already answered this so I'm sorry for bothering you if you have D:

Do you have a particular interest in nuclear physics? I'm wondering because when I watch ION it seems to me like you must be very passionate about it as well, either that or your just very good at researching (or making stuff up this sounds legit to people who dont know anything about physics, like me! /j), but it sounds like you know a considerable amount! Maybe it just seems like that to me because I don't understand physics at all :P

I really love cracklin!! So much!!! I've felt like I was too naive and childish for most of my life, I felt weak, pathetic, i cried nearly every day and my feelings of self hatred were only solidified by the people around me. And even though I act MUCH differently now and am in fact quite crude (I am much like a bird squawking outside your window that refuses to shut up!!!) and say uncomfortable things, I'm still regarded as naive and dumb sometimes! The thing Sylvia and cracklin have going on feels very similar to MANY friendships I've had with girls my age. I liked school very much and liked to work, so it made them angry that I managed to be "so stupid and so smart at the same time" (quoted directly from something a girl said to me when I was in middle school). I feel very seen.

I also want to ask if you have a particular interest in object shows, or if you just happened to choose to make your show an object show by coincidence? Object shows are my special interest and I LOVE how your show goes against (almost) everything standard for an object show. Your show is absolutely unique and there's nothing like it out there! I'm sure you will inspire many young creators to make their object shows more serious and complex, deviating from just the typical competition show. In my eyes something is qualified as an object show when there are objects (or non human characters) and the creator considers it an object show, so I love how versatile the title can be! Your designs communicate a lot about the characters and that's SO uncommon!!!! I love it!!!!! You inspire ME!!!! The art is also BEAUTIFUL, really abnormal to see in object shows, most of the time very little detail is put into it, but your backgrounds feel so ALIVE

Have a good day! :]

☢️ As soon as I saw this secret message, the words flashed through my mind: “this letter is very autistic, perhaps it was created by an autistic person.” ☢️ I love long opinions with lots of details and sincere emotions, thank you for this text, I was very happy reading it!

☢️ Yes, you guessed it - nuclear physics (especially everything related to the operation of Nuclear Power Plants) has been my special autistic interest for about 5 years now. I love everything about it. In fact, I am absolutely bad at the exact sciences, but the dance of nuclear energies fascinates me and takes my breath away! I order manuals on nuclear reactors for myself and read them with great pleasure, waving my hands. I often go to a coffee shop to read there by the window with a cup of coffee ^^

☢️ I created ION during the most terrible period of my life, and this project was the only thing that held me while anxious depression was rapidly developing and consuming me into some bottomless black abyss. So I put my whole soul, all of myself and what I love into ION, I made this project my mirror. ☢️ It is very important for me to see how this story touches the hearts of other people, I scream with delight if some neurodivergent people recognize themselves in Cracklin! This is extremely important to me.

☢️ Object shows are not my special interest, but I was very surprised and intrigued by this genre of web animation. At first, I did not like the concept of an object show and I could not understand why people were watching it … and then something switched inside me and I really wanted to create my own experimental Object show. To create it entirely myself. To make an author's project that will become a part of me. I didn't even hope that ION would be liked by anyone else, I posted 1 episode with the thought that I was doing it only for myself. And now I am happy as a rainbow in the sky, reading so many kind comments and support! Thank you very much

[emma23]

Touch her again, I dare you :

Joel miller x reader

If you’d like to support me, check out my page 💕

https://ko-fi.com/settings?tab=profile

It had been a relatively quiet week in Jackson, Wyoming. The town had settled into its usual routine, with everyone going about their business, doing their part to keep the community running smoothly. The sun hung high in the sky, casting a warm, golden light over the town square as people milled about, bartering for goods, chatting, and getting ready for the evening.

Y/N had just finished trading for some supplies—dried meat, a few cans of peaches, and some much-needed fresh bandages. Life in Jackson had its challenges, but compared to the world outside the gates, this was paradise. And she was grateful, especially since she had Joel.

Joel Miller, the man who everyone seemed to both respect and fear in equal measure. The man who’d been through more than anyone could imagine, who had seen and done things he’d never fully talk about. And the man she’d somehow ended up married to after a whirlwind of events that neither of them could have anticipated.

It wasn’t always easy. Joel could be gruff, emotionally distant at times, and prone to his own version of protectiveness that sometimes made Y/N want to strangle him. But underneath that hardened exterior, he was the man she loved���the man she’d built a life with, in this new world where everything felt fragile and temporary.

She adjusted the strap of her bag and turned to make her way back to their house when she felt it—a hand on her arm, stopping her in her tracks.

A man’s voice, too close for comfort: “Hey there, sweetheart. Haven’t seen you around much. You new here?”

Y/N’s stomach dropped as she turned slowly, looking up at the stranger who had dared to touch her. He was tall, maybe in his early 30s, with an arrogant smirk on his face that made her skin crawl. He clearly didn’t know who he was messing with—or rather, who her husband was.

“I’m not interested,” she said flatly, shrugging his hand off her arm and turning to leave, but the man stepped in front of her, blocking her path.

“Come on, don’t be like that. Just trying to be friendly.” He reached out again, this time brushing a hand across her waist.

Before Y/N could even react, there was a low, familiar growl from behind her. “Who the fuck are you?”

The change in atmosphere was immediate. The man’s hand dropped away from her as he turned to face the source of the voice. Joel stood there, eyes cold and dangerous, his body rigid with tension.

“I’m her husband. Put your hands on my wife again, and I’ll break them.”

The stranger blinked, clearly taken aback by the sheer intensity of Joel’s words. “I… I didn’t know, man. Just thought she was—”

Joel stepped forward, cutting him off, his face darkening. “I don’t care what you thought. I’m tellin’ you now. If you so much as look at her again, you’ll be eatin’ through a straw for the rest of your life.”

Y/N couldn’t help but stifle a laugh. It wasn’t that she found the situation funny, exactly—more like she found the poor idiot in front of her utterly ridiculous. Did he really think he could just smooth-talk his way out of this?

The guy raised his hands in surrender, backing away. “Alright, alright. No need to get violent. Didn’t mean anything by it.”

“Good,” Joel grunted, his eyes never leaving the man until he was completely out of sight.

Once the creep was gone, Joel turned his attention back to Y/N, his expression softening just a little, but not by much. “You okay?”

“I’m fine,” she said, shrugging. “He was just some idiot. Nothing I couldn’t handle.”

Joel grunted, clearly still agitated. “Yeah, well, I don’t like anyone touchin’ what’s mine.”

Y/N raised an eyebrow at him, crossing her arms. “Oh, I’m ‘yours,’ am I?”

Joel’s mouth twitched at the corner, his version of a smile. “Damn right you are.”

She rolled her eyes, but couldn’t help the smile that tugged at her own lips. “You know, you don’t always have to go full ‘I’m gonna break your face’ mode every time some guy talks to me.”

“Not just talkin’,” Joel muttered, his hand resting on her waist now, pulling her a little closer. “Touchin’. And I ain’t gonna let that slide.”

There was something possessive in the way he held her now, something that made Y/N’s heart race a little faster. She couldn’t deny that she liked this side of Joel—this fierce, protective side that wouldn’t hesitate to tear apart anyone who messed with her. It was primal, raw, and very, very Joel.

“And what if I want to touch you?” she teased, slipping her arms around his neck, leaning up into his space.

Joel’s eyes darkened, the tension from before shifting into something else entirely. “That’s different.”

“Oh?” she smirked. “How so?”

He didn’t answer with words. Instead, he closed the distance between them, his mouth capturing hers in a kiss that was far from gentle. It was possessive, claiming, the kind of kiss that left her breathless and wanting more. His hands moved down her back, gripping her tightly as if he couldn’t get enough of her, and Y/N found herself melting into him, her fingers tangling in his hair.

“You’re mine,” he murmured against her lips, his voice low and gravelly, sending shivers down her spine.

“And you’re mine,” she shot back, her voice breathless, her body pressed flush against his.

Joel pulled back just enough to look at her, his thumb brushing across her cheek, his eyes intense. “Damn right I am.”

Later, back at their house, they barely made it through the door before they were all over each other again. Joel had barely closed the door when Y/N grabbed him by the collar, pulling him in for another heated kiss. This time, there was no one around to interrupt, no town square full of people—just the two of them, and the electricity crackling between them.

“Goddamn,” Joel muttered, his voice rough as his hands roamed over her body. “You drive me crazy, you know that?”

“I know,” she teased, grinning up at him as she tugged his shirt off over his head.

Joel didn’t waste any time. He scooped her up, carrying her to their bed, where he laid her down gently before climbing over her, his lips finding hers once more. Their movements were frantic, desperate, like they couldn’t get enough of each other fast enough. Clothes were discarded, hands explored, and before long, they were tangled together in a way that made everything else fade away.

In that moment, it was just them—no creeps, no dangers, no post-apocalyptic world threatening to tear them apart. Just Joel and Y/N, lost in each other, in the heat of the moment.

Afterward, they lay tangled together, catching their breath, the room filled with the warm glow of the setting sun filtering through the window. Y/N rested her head on Joel’s chest, listening to the steady rhythm of his heartbeat.

“You know,” she said after a while, her voice soft but teasing, “you really didn’t need to go all caveman on that guy.”

Joel huffed a laugh, his fingers lazily tracing circles on her arm. “Yeah, well… he had it comin’.”

She laughed, shaking her head. “You’re ridiculous.”

“And you love it,” he shot back, his tone playful.

Y/N grinned, pressing a kiss to his chest. “Yeah, I guess I do.”

Joel’s hand moved to cup her face, gently lifting her chin so he could look her in the eyes. “I meant what I said,” he murmured. “Ain’t nobody gonna touch you, not while I’m around.”

She smiled up at him, her heart swelling with affection for the gruff, stubborn man she’d married. “I know.”

He leaned down, kissing her softly this time, a stark contrast to the earlier intensity. It was tender, sweet—a reminder that beneath all the bravado and gruffness, Joel Miller had a heart that beat for her.

As they settled back into a comfortable silence, Y/N couldn’t resist one last jab.

“So… you think you could maybe hold off on threatening to break people’s hands for a bit? At least until the next town meeting?”

Joel snorted. “No promises.”

[hyohaehyuk]

I think a lot of people are not understanding one thing about this show: Louis have an eating disorder caused by his rejections of being a vampire and a queer man. Eating animals and rejecting eating humans is not a normal diet for vampires and is not the same as veganism/vegetarianism like i have seen some keep saying. In the AR' vampire universe is not just the blood but also the hunt and the memories they get from the victims that get them healthy. Even the way Louis eats in present days is weird af (even tho is consumes more human blood provided by his unethically farm) bc he is forcing himself to eat human food too (the whole thing is weird af. watch it again now with the image of him having a eating disorder in mind and you will see what i am saying)

Everything Lestat was doing (especially between ep 2/3) was trying to make Louis eat properly but all his desperate attempts was just pushing Louis away. The reason he brought Antoinette to their house was to recreate their 1st time with Miss Lily (bc if it worked 1 time surely it work another🤦). I think he was hoping that Louis would feed out of Antoinette and maybe even kill her. Same reason (besides the pride and bad communication) of why he opened their relationship. He was hoping that while he was hooking-up with someone he would feed from it but instead Louis chose someone who it had story (maybe to piss Lestat. I think this will be revised in season 3 bc i remember seeing on twitter that Lestat was next to Antoinette but once he he sees Louis talking with Jonah he is in another place far from her). He was already mad that Louis eating disorder was taking a tool on their relationship (which is why he start cheating 💀) but suddenly Louis was in the mood for some sex with someone else and on top of it Lestat also had to watch him hurting dogs (which maybe we will see in season 3 that human lestat loves dogs) instead of feeding on his hook-up human being.

The saddest thing is that there is nothing Lestat could have done to help (if you watched the last season of heartstopper Nick was dealing with a similar situation with Charlie and everyone's attempting to help him was actually making it worse). Things would only start getting better if the person admit to themselves and others they have a problem and seek for professional help which unfortunately for Louis was a thing that didn't exist at the time. Thankfully Louis at the end of season 2 finally accepted himself so on season 3 we will see a completely new Louis and i don't think Lestat will be ready for that Louis 🤭. Tho I hope Louis is not automatically cured in season 3. I think he will still mess it up occasionally until he gets cured for real.

Anyway, i hope they revise this (and a few other things) in season 3 bc it seems that a lot of people still dont get it. There is a chance of them doing that bc depressed Lestat was also feeding out of rats just like Louis was and maybe they could touch on this when doing connections with Nicky depression. i think we will see a lot of connections related how Lestat dealt with Louis and Claudia bc of his relationship with Nicky and his family, particularly his mother. Since Daniel works like the public voice maybe he will be the one doing those connections especially now that Daniel is a vampire and knows more about how it works.

i do think loustat in the show are monogamous, however given the nature of the vampirism they still have to seduce their victims to feed so i can see them hooking up with the victims before killing them but that dont make them non-monogamous in my eyes bc that would involve them actually having feelings for others.

And no, i dont think Louis was in love with Armand (he was attracted at most. i will not go much in depth into their relationship bc i don't want loum*nd shippers annoying the shit out of me. the only thing i am gonna say is that their relationship was all about Lestat: it started bc of him, continued after Paris bc of him and ended bc of him) and Lestat with Antoinette (she was more like his therapist so he could vent about Louis and Claudia. if he had love her he would have told her she could had attached any human' finger to hers after he made her cut her finger. He only keep her 1st bc she was giving him the devotion Louis was refusing to, 2nd bc it still made Louis' jealous which casually he would show it and then bc he needed her to spy on Louis and Claudia. if you guys noticed Louis was quite undecided in going forward Claudia plan of killing Lestat, until he brought Antoinette. It was then (especially when petty Lestat call her "love") when he made up his mind. That was Lestat worst mistake that night bc he knew about their plan and was trying to make Louis not going through it but then does that 🤦)

louis and lestat wouldn’t even hesitate to walk out into the sun if the other ceased to exist and people think they would ever consider polyamory. it’s just not realistic. they invented monogamy and the soul being irrevocably tied to one other soul for eternity and beyond

[wajjs]

I’m a bit curious on Hal’s personality in his depictions. From what I know is that early hal was headstrong, cocky, kind of a goofball, and detached (dissociating away his fear and averse to commitment). This seems to be the version of Hal that most people write.

But then there’s the whole Parallax thing, and the Spectre run. I don’t know much about it but it seems hal gets a lot more subdued and melancholy as the spectre. And then after that he comes back as flesh and bone.

So what is he like at the end of that?

Pre-Johns and pre-Parallax Hal tended to be more happy go lucky, stupid, and generally doe eyed hopeful "the system that fucked me over once definitely won't do it again!" type of man. He was also entitled at times. But this is mostly true up until around the time of Hard Traveling Heroes, which is when he starts to be heartbroken and melancholic, traits that persist until the climax of Emerald Twilight.

A lot of people say Emerald Twilight came from nowhere and I disagree. I think those people weren't paying attention, because all the signs were there. Hal had been steadily becoming more disillusioned and melancholic through the 70s and 80s until we get to the 90s, where that heartbreak gets amplified to the nth degree. Hal didn't go from stupid to mad with grief without a transition period in the middle. But a lot of people think once a run from x writer ends, it no longer counts for the next one, and so they say the tragedy came from nowhere.

At the very start of the 90s, Hal has a lot of suicidal ideation going on. The run itself begins with him more or less saying "There’s nowhere else to go" (paraphrasing) and throwing himself off a cliff. He waits until he's almost crashing head first into the ground to pull himself out of there using his ring. He's flirting with the thought of death.

He is also self sabotaging. He pulls back from everyone and turns himself into a homeless man who lives on the road because he's looking for a sense of self, a meaning to life he has lost. He becomes a seasonal worker because he needs something to do, but those jobs never last because the life he's trying to leave behind (in the shape of Guy Gardner) keeps metaphorically knocking on the door and dragging him back to Green Lantern.

Even when he comes back, he chooses to do solitary things. For example: exploring space to recruit more GLs, that keeps interactions to a minimum. It's all things that are brewing in a pressure cooker that blows up when Coast City is destroyed in front of Hal's eyes and the hero community drops the ball. Hard.

They all say well, it’s not MY city. They all say get over it. Clark goes and creates a monument using scraps of the very bomb that killed everyone and everything Hal knew all his life, and immediately after that Clark is in Metropolis enjoying the sun and saying aaaaah. what a nice day.

And Hal doesn't snap immediately. The tension is there, but at first he does try to keep it together until it becomes impossible. He tries to reconstruct Coast City, but there are limits to what the ring can do. The one thing he could depend on, his will power, is not enough. He is not enough. His grief and anger become so big that his mind just... fractures. He snaps. No one's listening and no one's helping, so he will take matters into his own hands and make. it. right.

This Hal is angry. This Hal has a heart with a hole that threatens to kill him at any moment but he endures because he cannot die until he does what needs to be done. This Hal refuses the help that comes too late, he has killed his friends, he has destroyed the corps, he has killed Sinestro. Kyle arrives like a lighthouse in the middle of the storm but for Hal it's too late because he has driven his ship into the cliff and is letting it sink with himself still in it.

He is mad at himself and mad at the world for failing Coast City and all the innocent lives lost. He almost becomes a god, and is perceived as a god by some due to the power he now possesses. There are moments when clarity hits him and the old wounded heartbroken Hal shows his face, and he is dying. His pain is so palpable. His anguish. The old Hal wants help. But Parallax Hal does not want to be saved.

Of course, the status quo changes with the events of Final Night. Hal sacrifices himself to save the Earth. He sees that only in death will his anger stop, and he sees that he's the only one who can do what no one else could do for Coast City. It's a no brainer. He sacrifices himself and burns himself to a crisp reigniting the sun. Hal doesn’t expect to come back. He doesn’t want to come back. This is HIS final night.

Unfortunately, The Spectre had other plans. His anger morphs into straight up depression because now he is alive enough to deal with the outcome of what he did as Parallax. He has to live with the tragedy of what he lost and the tragedy of what he did. Few people stand by his side and want to give him a chance. Very few people recognize there's good in him. Most want to see him dead and gone. He himself wants to be dead and gone. Helen, his niece, being there definitely helps him not lose it, not lose himself. She is his hope. She is the innocence he lost and he will never get back.

After all of this, he is more grounded, mature. Still melancholic. Still haunted by everything that happened. He is cocky, of course, and self assured, because at the end of the day those are the things he can cling to with some sort of safety net. But they're also things he uses to keep the raw wounds hidden.

Post Johns? Yeah like more than half of this is lost because Hal’s the greatest hero ever and he can do no wrong. He is headstrong, overconfident, cocky, and ultimately good, but he is missing like half of his soul.

[damnfandomproblems]

Fandom Problem #7260:

I hate how people get so upset when authors remove their fics rather than orphaning them and acting like the author was soooo selfish and that orphaning is the only right and justice choice for them to make, especially when the fic in question had a handful or even no comments.

Like, people share their fics for community and connection. I share my fics for community and connection. I will always write for myself, but I share them for the human connection. If there's no connection? Well, I'm not going to share then, and I sure as hell am not going to orphan because that's MY fic, MY hard work, why would I want to remove myself from it, to not be able to show it to others and say "hey look at this thing I made, what do you think?" just because a stranger who doesn't even have the guts to tell me they like it, likes it? And there's no such thing as an individual, so many other fic authors likely do/think the same.

"Oh, but you aren't entitled to comments!" You're right, but you also aren't entitled to millions of stories at the wonderful cost of $0.00 either. It isn't selfish for people to choose to not comment, but it also isn't selfish for authors to delete and/or abandon their fics when they get no comments.

"But what if that fic helped someone through a hard time? Saved their life?" Should've told the author that, can't blame the author for prioritizing their own mental health when they weren't even aware they were carrying the burden of a stranger's mental health too.

Writing is already so hard even if you're doing it for yourself. Sharing it is terrifying. Letting people, strangers even, know the things you like, your traumas, your mistakes? The only thing that makes sharing worth it is knowing that there are other people out there who like the same things, share your traumas, and won't judge you by your mistakes and that by sharing your stories, you can find them and even if it's just for a moment, just a single small interaction.

But if you can't find them? They don't let you know that—yes, we're alike! I like this too! I understand this character! I don't mind that you're imperfect, we're human!—Why keep sharing? Why leave all these painful pieces of yourself scattered about if you gain NOTHING from it? Why leave something that was meant to be a bridge of connection up, when it goes unwalked? It's an abandoned house, an unused lot, a corpse. Community interaction is the lifeblood of fic, and if the blood doesn't flow, it will be buried.

Yes, fandom may not cost money, but there needs to be an exchange if you want it to continue because fandom is and always will be a community, not just fics and art.

"But I'm scared to comment!" "I just want to lurk!" etc.

That's valid, but you can't complain when authors delete their fics, stop posting, and fandom begins to dwindle because all they received for their efforts and nakedness is silence. Kudos and likes will always be appreciated, but that's not connected, that is not community, and that's not what authors share and bare their hearts for. Of course, you can be upset when fics disappear and authors leave, but don't bitch if you know the reason why and could have helped prevent it. If you don't play your part in the community keep your mouth shut when it dies. Don't cry at the funeral a fandom you did nothing more but look at.

Let authors delete their fics and disappear in peace. They were shown how little the community valued them when they were left in silence, and no amount of complaints and cutesy positive posts are going to change that.

Deleting fic isn't evil. It's the acceptance that no matter how much you share, how much effort you give, the community doesn't care enough to even give you a single thumbs up and it's the action of parting ways with that community.

And asking those people who just want to leave and be left alone because the community was neglectful to keep sharing AND walk away if they don't like the silence by orphaning their fics instead of deleting them is so selfish. It's cruel to pressure them to keep their work up when they're ready to leave because YOU want to just take, take, take, and give not even a thanks in return.

I'm so sick of being treated like a monster when I post a fic, work it for months upon months, see the hit could rise higher and higher, and get not even a single person interacting but being treated like a selfish monster for deleting it when continuing to share it eventually became too painful.

"Oh, but write for yourself! You shouldn't write for the comments!" I write for myself, my Google Docs are full of dozens upon dozens of fics that I read and reread, laugh and cry at. But I only share for the comments/community, and well, the community decided that it doesn't want me and so I'm done sharing. I'm never sharing again when I'll just be fucking ignored. I'm done letting people call me and anyone else who has also decided they're done sharing selfish entitled pricks for just wanting to connect with others when they didn't give a damn dollar or even just a fucking smile emoji in return

[croxxbow13]

The Sweet One

Warnings: language, mentions of violence and mild adult thoughts.

Takes place during Alexandria era. Just some musings as you’re trying to adjust to this new, impossible way of life… and trying to make sense of Daryl’s intoxicating presence.

A/N: Honestly, I’m not sure what this is. I just opened my notes app and just started putting words down. Will do a part 2 if theres any interest.

Please be gentle with me, its my first time.

It’d been three weeks since our group had stumbled into the walls of Alexandria, dirty, dehydrated and half starved.

Everyone had done the best they could to settle in, though it still felt like most of us were still holding our breath, waiting for the other shoe to drop.

Places like this didn’t exist anymore.

At least, not for long.

We all slept in the same house, hell the same room for the first few nights, not wanting to let our guard down. The floor a patchwork of arms and legs and blankets, while the beds lay empty in their vaulted ceiling bedrooms.

After the things we’d experienced on the road, how could we not? Cannibals, rapist, psychopaths that tried to take us down, slaughtering their whole communities in the process without so much as a flicker of remorse.

I remember one night on the road, everyone sitting around the fire, Daryl said that the world really hadn’t changed all that much. People had always been shit. Now they were just more open about it. There was no reason they could see to keep those terrible things inside.

No reason to fear hell when we’re already there.

And now, to look into these strange smiling faces offering promises of food, walls, shelter… hot showers?

I stuck close to Carol for a while, trying to keep a low profile, putting on a nice face, but all the while keeping my ears tuned to the low whispers, the quiet conversations in adjoining rooms, listening, waiting for someone to slip up. To show the other side of the coin, but they never did.

It didn’t take long working in the small confines of the kitchen and pantry to feel like the walls were closing in on me. The daily droning of bored housewives going on about their ridiculous reasons to be at odds with their husbands, or gossiping about this person or that person… cackling together like a bunch of restless hens.

It reminded me too much of the old world. And I’d rather use an ice pick as a q-tip.

But thankfully, after some convincing - and maybe a little bit of begging - Aaron finally agreed to let me help with scavenging. He said that he, Daryl, Glenn and a few of the Alexandrians were going to be checking out a warehouse tomorrow a few towns over. Something about an old cargo depot.

I couldn’t give a shit less, as long as it gets me outside these walls for a little while.

I never thought it would be hard to transition back into some semblance of normalcy… but I feel like we’re all just kind of playing house. The people in this community have just as many dirty secrets as the people out there. The only difference is theirs is hidden behind neatly manicured hedges and eggshell tinted semi-gloss paint.

-

I’m sitting on the steps of Carol’s house when she returns home from another’s day work.

I say Carol’s house, but I guess it’s also mine and also Daryl’s. Though I’m pretty sure his residence here was just a given whereas I actually asked Carol if she minded that I stayed here.

Rick and Michonne have their whole family dynamic thing going on with Carl and Judith, so I would just feel like a fifth wheel.

Abraham and Rosita had room… but after being on the road with them and realizing how obnoxiously loud they are during sex… and don’t even get me started with fucking Eugene. I swear to God, when he starts rambling off at the mouth with his overinflated self importance. I’ve lost count of the number of times I’ve imagined cutting off that ratty ass mullet and gagging him with it. My luck though that would just add more material to his mental spank bank that he would recall as he’s beatin’ one out watching his compadres going at it.

I hate that I think about these things, and I hate that I have a vivid imagination because I immediately feel the bile rise in my throat, taste the acidic disgust on the back of my tongue.

I must’ve made a face because Carol stops and looks at me before she makes it to the steps.

“Well I’m glad to see you too.” She says, fighting back a sarcastic laugh.

I shake my head, trying to be reassuring while I’m still fighting the churn of my stomach.

“I’m sorry, just been a long day.” I say, giving her a lopsided smile. She puts a steadying hand on my knee as she swings around and takes the space on the step beside me.

She unbuttons her muted green sweater, or should I say her chosen costume of the day, and pushes up the sleeves. Usually she waits until she’s made it into the front door before she goes through her “becoming Carol” ritual that Daryl and I tease her about most nights.

We give her shit, but I gotta give it to her. She’s smart.

Seeing her now, It’s crazy to think of the transformation she’s undergone since I first met her back at the quarry. Back then she was so… small. And quiet. And just scared all the time. And I get it. Being beaten day in and day out by the person who should be your biggest sense of security will do that to you. Hell, the end of the world was probably the best thing that ever happened to her.

Daryl, too. Granted, he doesn’t talk much about his life before. But from witnessing his toxic ass relationship with his brother, I can only imagine that home for him was never really much of a home. And I’ve seen the scars. At least some of them. He didn’t get those from learning to ride a bike.

Dad was probably a drinker with no outlet for his anger. And Merle was probably old enough and big enough to at least get away from him eventually. I don’t know how much younger Daryl is, or was than Merle. But if I had to guess there was probably a solid 10 years that Daryl would’ve had to fend for himself. And Merle said it…

He was always the sweet one, my baby brother…

It’d made me so angry how he had said it so condescendingly. Like it was something to be shameful about. Like it was a weakness that should be hidden away. Because “real” men don’t show emotion.

Fuck him. I’ve literally watched Daryl rip out vocal cords with his bare fucking hands. And his arms… jesus christ, his arms.

Apparently I just sighed because now Carol has turned her attention towards me again. I clear my throat brushing non-existent dirt off the knees of my jeans.

“Want me to start on dinner?” I ask her, hoping the flush I feel creeping up my neck isn’t obvious.

She gives me a small smile, but it doesn’t quite reach her eyes.

“It’s ok, I ate a little something before I left work. Daryl might be hungry when he gets in though, if you’re wanting to make something. I think we’ve still got stuff for some spaghetti.”

And then as if conjured up from the depths, Daryl turns onto the street from the way of the front gate, the sounds of his boots thudding lightly against the pavement.

Daryl didn’t walk, it was more a saunter if anything. That one hand always gripping the strap of his crossbow that laid across his chest, the other swinging by his side, always a little wider than necessary.

I wonder sometimes if he’s aware of how much space he takes up at any given moment. Though I could never bring myself to ask him, because then he’d want to know what I meant. And I had no intention of letting him know how small he made rooms feel when I’m in one with him.

He’d probably take it the wrong way and go brood in the woods for a few days.

That sweet baby brother.

I’m self admittedly pretty terrible at recognizing when someone’s flirting with me.

But Daryl… Daryl. Fucking. Dixon. Takes the cake with that one.

At times I wonder if he’s actually had any kind of intimate interaction whatsoever. And, oh to have been a fly on the wall…

Doesn’t mean I can’t try though, right?

I mean, it can’t be completely one sided. I’ve caught him stealing glances when he thinks he’s out of my line of sight. I mean, christ, we live in the same house together.

And god so help me, for as long as I live I will never forget the look on his face when I came out of the bathroom in nothing but a towel because he’d come back from a run early. I had my face down, trying to towel dry the rest of my hair and he rounded the corner as I was stepping into the hallway and I basically face planted his chest. It took him about three syllables worth of his sentence, his hands gripping my arms to keep me from stumbling backwards, before he realized that that single layer of cotton that hit just a little too high on my thighs was the only thing saving us from an even more awkward situation.

His eyes went wide as he’d snatched his hands away like he’d been burned. And the color that immediately flushed his cheeks made me want to sink my teeth into the vein that pulsed too quickly in the side of his throat as he dropped his head and retreated out the front door.

Damn… Im starting to sound like one of them.

“Perfect timing! Your ears must’ve been burning!” Carol’s chipper tone pulls me once again from my thoughts, though this time it’s not as welcome. Daryl’s boots scuff against the sidewalk as he comes to a stop in front of us.

“What d’ya mean?” He says, his voice gruff as his gaze bounces between the two of us. I’m still fighting off visuals of lips and teeth and tongues, so I just raise my eyebrows and shake my head, doing my best to avoid meeting his eyes.

“We were talking about dinner, you hungry?” Thanks, Carol.

Daryl shakes his head and shifts his weight from one foot to the other. “Nah. Not really.”

“Alright, well I’m going to go shower, that way you can get yours whenever you get ready.” Carol stood and turned for the door, giving me a small pat on the shoulder as she crossed the porch and disappeared into the house.

I looked at him then, and thankfully his attention was somewhere down the street.

The sharp orange streaks of light from the setting sun highlighted the beads of sweat on his brow, and judging by the dirt that clung to his arms and clothes, they’d had an eventful day.

Good. He always seemed to be in a better mood those days.

He was chewing on his bottom lip, as he always did when he was working a thought over in his mind. And I figure its as good a time as any to snap him out of it. Before he turns and I’m just staring at him like a fucking weirdo.

“Aaron’s letting me come with you guys tomorrow. Said that it’d be a good time for me to come along and see how you guys work together.”

He nodded slowly before he turned his eyes to me. “Yeah, he told me.” He slid his crossbow over his head and leaned it against the step railings before sitting down on the landing next to me.

And true enough, it now felt half the size as when Carol was sitting there.

“It’ll be good for ya,” he said, pulling at a string that hung loose on his glove. “Get out there an outta here for a while.” As he said it, his eyes scanned the other houses in the neighborhood… still looking for the cracks. For the slip of the stage props.

Maybe we’re not so different.

My eyes follow his gaze. And when I speak, it’s lower… only meant for us.

“You’re still looking for it too.” I say. It’s not a question. He turns his head and looks at me now. The dirt smudge across his cheek brings out the blue in his eyes.

His response is more of a grunt than a word. He wants to know what I’m talking about. Even though he already knows what I’m talking about. He just wants to hear me say it.

“You’re looking for the strings. For the wizard behind the curtain. This place can’t be as perfect as it looks from the outside. There’s something… there’s gotta be.”

He slowly nods and I know that he’s starting to realize the same thing…

Maybe we’re not so different.

The sun has finally dipped below the horizon. I can only tell because that first faintly cool breeze that precedes the darkness is creeping between the houses now. And thanks to it, I’m now aware of the heat I feel radiating off of him. I didn’t realize that my arm was that close to his. Even through his jeans I can feel the warmth of his legs on the steps beside mine.

Why are my fucking ears hot?

And why do I have to fight the urge to lean over and lick the sweat off his neck.

Can you imagine the look on his face?

Stop. Stop.

What the fuck is wrong with me?

I need to get up and go inside before I embarrass myself and just have to go knock on the door of the love nest and ask if I can big spoon Eugene.

Fuck that.

And then he bumps his shoulder against mine and suddenly I have no escape plan. I actually don’t plan on going anywhere. I actually would probably have to be pried off this step.

“Come on, we’ve got an early day tomorrow.” He says, and I can feel the words vibrate through my chest. He stands and grabs his crossbow, but he doesn’t sling it across his back like he usually does. He just holds it by his side, stretching out his other hand to offer me help up.

Sweet little baby brother

Naturally I go against my better judgment. Of course I do. I reach up and grab his hand and with little effort, he hauls me up and I’m now even more aware of how effortless he could just pick me up and snap me in half.

Or pin me against a wall.

Stop.

We’re toe to toe, though on different steps, which only adds to the way he’s towering over me. But I can feel his warmth. I can smell the sweet tanginess of his sweat that’s saturated his shirt. The earthy smell of the dirt.

He takes a step back, which part of me is thankful for. As I should be.

I know that if I ever genuinely made a pass at him. And it wasn’t reciprocated, things would probably never be the same between us. I wouldn’t be able to look at him. And he would probably never put himself in a position to be within arms reach of me again. Be it from fear or embarrassment or just the typical, awkward Daryl.

And I don’t want that.

But god damned, I want him.

Tomorrow is going to be a long day.

[sassysnakedemon]

Sorry - it's been a while

So, I've been missing for a while. I had to take a break from socials of all kinds (although, tbh, I really only have tumblr and Ao3). There's been a lot of stuff happening. Trump getting re-elected was just the first brick in the wall (enjoy the Pink Floyd reference, if you like). I've been going through deep clinical depression, which is not unusual for me, but a real stop sign for social activity. I can cope, but only with a very basic amount of social activity, which includes 'real' relationships only, as those make my paycheck come through, where social media relationships do not put ramen on my table.

This sounds bleak, but on the plus side, prioritizing my real world activities has netted me a side gig that pays a hundo an hour for teaching the elderly to play the ukulele. That sounds like a joke, but it really isn't! And it's uniquely fun!!

I've also had to divest all of my investments that were made in the US, and transfer the funds to my bank up here in Canada - that took several days, and I was making sure to make it happen before the Inauguration took place. Luckily, I was able to make that happen, but I have a bunch of work to do now to make sure I can make some good investments in Canada instead. I would surely love to invest so properly that I actually become wealthy, and then I can start giving back in a really big way to the various communities that I so desperately want to support. But that's kinda first world problems, so I understand if you don't care about that! (I mean, my real dream is to become like Michael Sheen and just give up everything to help the people around me, and only keep that which I really need to live - unfortunately, with inflation and everything, what I have now is barely what I need to live for the next couple of years - and again, first world problems, but I have some plans - that don't include crypto - that might actually make it possible for me to turn what little I have into something big that could actually be life changing for the world around me)

On a far more personal note, I've finally made the decision (at the ripe old age of almost 48) to finally transition to male. I wanted to, like 30 years ago, but the LGB community was really unfair to trans people back then, so I spent the last almost 30 years trying so hard to be femme, when that's not what I am. I'm going for top surgery, as soon as I can lose enough weight to make it look good (I'm not enough overweight to have a problem with surgery, but enough that I wouldn't be happy with the results), and then we're on the road. If anyone wonders, my name now is Ezra - partly a cultural thing, and partly a Good Omens fan thing (if you know, you know), and I've gotten approval from everyone - friends, mother (and that was the hardest one, friends were all like 'yeah, we knew', but mom is a bit difficult) and best of all, my husband, who said 'I'm not much of a boob man anyway' in answer to my revelation. He also said that he couldn't live without me, no matter who, or what I was. That's something special right there! The plus is that I would be a gay man after transition anyway - never been really attracted to women in the first place, just didn't want to be one. So, I'm still wildly attracted to my husband of 20 years (this year in November - on Guy Fawkes Day, no less), but now I'm coming at the attraction as the man I've always been, rather than the woman I've been cosplaying for way too long. That's something, and it's been a big thing eating at my mind and soul for a long time. It's been keeping me from being completely open with everyone, and I apologize for that. But I had to wrestle with this particular demon one last time before I could rejoin the world.

I've also had walking pneumonia for the last month and a half, which does NOT make it easy to do anything, so I've been avoiding anything which isn't strictly necessary to do. I'm starting to recover though, so I will try harder now to rejoin 'all y'all', to make an appropriate Texasism, as I lived there for enough time to pick up the local jargon.

Suffice it to say that I will try harder to be a better friend to the friends I've made here, but give me a minute - I'm still finding my feet. And I've had a bit of trouble with the GO fandom, as I am finding it hard right now to hyper-focus on it when I've got so much else going on.

Can I say that the world sucks right now? Can I say to all of my friends here, and all of the friends that I'm yet to make, that I feel you, and will protect you? I am really feeling a sort of way, and it's hard to deal with. I wish the troubles were over, and that we could all sing together in fields of green - that we could love each other, even when we don't always agree. I would give anything, including the blood in my veins, for that future.

Sorry for the ramble - meds are partly to blame, but so is my depression - and my planning for a future I cannot see. I want to be engaged, but I'm finding it difficult. I want to be present for you, but that may not always be possible. I'm trying though, and I haven't forgotten any of the friendships I've made here - I'm just trying to be a better version of me before I come back and interact with everyone again!

@missunderstoodlyrics, @naturallyteal, @isiaiowin, @ilikeblue, @inezrable, @copperplatebeech,@phoen1xr0se, @di-42

[nhl-stories]

i'm not sure that you want me – Kent Johnson

Summary: Kent's confused. About nothing. About everything. Mostly, he just wants someone to give him the answers.

Author’s Note: Someone sent in a request that just said Kent Johnson. Gender. I didn't really know him before but somehow his weirdly, pretty bug face broke me out of my writing rut. So thanks anon, I feel like i could have explored so much more but had to rein myself in

Word Count: 6.8k

You still live in Columbus right?

Kent gets the text after a particularly grueling rehab session, he’s out to lunch with the boys and a little tempted to order a drink to take off the edge off the day, even if it’s only 11 AM.

A second text buzzes in before he can answer.

I could google but thought I’d get it straight from the source

It had been a while since they texted each other, the last text telling him to get well soon in February. Not that they ever really communicated a ton. It was mostly when either saw something that reminded them of the other.

Like seeing one of Kent’s old teammates at a basement party doing something stupid.

Yeah, trying to come visit?

They hadn’t actually seen each other in person in a year or so. When he went back to school to get his ring, and that was only a brief hello when he had a million other obligations.

Trying to move just got accepted into OSU law school, it would be nice to have a familiar face

Kent doesn’t know how to respond right away. With the injury he feels a little more lost about his future. Not playing the last months of the season makes it harder for him to get traded, and he’s pretty sure the new contract in the works with Columbus will work out. But he really doesn’t know.

Wow congrats, lmk if you need anything I probably won’t be much help though

He doesn’t want to make any promises.

You’re saying my friend who is strong enough to move my furniture and rich enough to get me a nice meal after can’t help? What a ripoff 🙄

Kent can’t help but smile, unfortunately that gives Silly a chance to pounce.

“Who’s got KJ all smiley at his phone?”

The season has been a grind for everyone, not just Kent who’s had to helplessly watch from the sidelines for so long. They take they’re laughter when they can get it, Kent just made himself an easy target.

Adam peers over his shoulder, “You texting yourself? Getting that desperate?”

“It’s a different KJ,” he deadpans while he feels his face warm, “a friend from college.”

“Is this ‘friend,’” Silly obnoxiously uses air quotes, “hot?”

Kent rolls his eyes and throws a balled-up napkin at him. Slips his phone in his pocket to respond to later.

++++

KJ had lived in Columbus for almost five months before meeting up with Kent. In part because of the off season, but they had a hard time locking down plans. First a coffee meetup that fell through, then lunch, then she excitedly suggested they get drinks since they were both actually legal now.

KJ said they would be in the park after work and they could walk to a place. He found her reading on a bench. If he hadn’t followed her location pin, he wouldn’t have been sure it was them.

He had checked her Instagram before he left to see a more recent picture than what he had in his head. They don’t post a lot, even less of pictures of them, mostly books, plants, or friends. The last picture was a blurry picture of people dancing on a table, he couldn’t even pick out KJ if he tried.

Her hair was much longer than the last time he saw them, it had been shorter than his and dyed a blue that was so dark it was almost black. Now, it was mostly a light purple, except the blonde roots. Kent wasn’t sure if she was a natural blonde. Can’t recall what shade her shaved head was when they first met.

That was when their Women, Gender, and Sexuality professor paired ‘Katrina Johnson’ and ‘Kent Johnson’ for the first project of the year and as she slid into the chair next to him, said ‘you better not be one of those dumb jocks who drops this class before we finish the project.’ Kent didn’t even try to joke about how he took this class because he heard it was easy and could tell his teammates he had to leave to study women.

And that’s how boy KJ met girl KJ, which they would amend months later: ‘I’m really more of the girl-ish KJ, emphasis on -ish.’

KJ doesn’t notice him walking up so he takes a seat beside her before saying anything.

She jumps a little before a smile breaks through, “holy shit I forgot how low your voice is.”

KJ shoves the book into their backpack, the same beat up maroon JanSport he remembers from college. She reaches over and Kent thinks she’s going in for a hug, but stops turning when they touch the ends of his hair.

“And your hair is so short! People won’t confuse us for a cute lesbian couple anymore,” she faux pouts.

Kent rolls his eyes but can feel the upward quirk of his lip, “Shut up.”

“What? I liked when my friends would ask me about the cute, butch girl they saw me walking around campus with. It was good for my rep.”

Their smile doesn’t wane, “I’m glad we could finally meet up.”

Then she moves in for the hug, it’s a bit of an awkward angle while they’re still sitting. But they squeezes him tight, makes him think about the last time someone really hugged him. Probably his mom, before he flew back to Columbus.

They walk to a bar nearby, KJ asks Kent about his summer, training camp, how his shoulder feels.  When they get to the bar, they both get carded; she elbows him excitedly like they’re getting away

He finds out they’re deferring law school for a year, hoping to get some more savings for food and rent before getting more student debt. Currently she’s part-time clerking at the ACLU and some other law firm that pays better but they seem iffy about the work they do. Then volunteering at a queer community center closer to her apartment and campus.

Kent worried that once they caught up on life basics it would be awkward, they got along pretty well at school, but they didn’t actually have that much in common.

Before meeting KJ, Kent hadn’t even spent a lot of time with women who weren’t interested in him, for hockey or romantically or a combo of both. It had been a nice change of pace when KJ came into his life, but that didn’t mean it would work outside the limbo of college life.

But the awkward moment never comes.

They keep talking until KJ looks at their phone.

“Shit, we’ve been here for like 2 hours. You probably have other things to do.”

“Not really, do you want to get dinner?”

Kent takes them to one of his favorite restaurants, it’s another two hours before they wrap up the evening. Kent’s cheeks hurt from smiling so much.

KJ gives him directions to her apartment; he pulls up into front of brick building, it’s easy to tell how close they are to the college now. When he turns after putting it in park he sees KJ staring at him, looking up at him while she leans on the console.

“KJ?” They bat their eyelashes.

“Yes, KJ?” His throat feels dry.

“Are you going to invite me to a hockey game?”

He can’t stop the snorting laugh that comes out.

“Um, yeah.”

She raises a brow like she’s expecting more.

“Do you want to come to a hockey game?”

“I’d love to! You probably don’t know your schedule off the top of your head so just tell me when you know some dates.”

“Cool, have good night.”

KJ leans further in for a hug, whispers against his ear, “I’m so happy we get to hang out again.”

They pull away and ruffle his short hair again, then kisses his forehead before he can even process what’s happening. He watches them walk up the drive and disappear through the door.

++++

She told him he was pretty once. Honestly, probably more than once, but the first time is what he really remembers.

Kent doesn’t know why that’s the memory that’s pinging around his head while he’s taping his stick.

Going over to KJ’s to off-campus apartment to work on their assignment, she had answered the door in a silk robe before leading him into the living room and plopping on the floor with notes on the coffee table. She sat cross legged on the couch facing him, flashing her underwear that he would have described as a ‘laundry day’ pair.

KJ started talking about what readings they could cite, like there wasn’t a borderline stranger in her house while she was half naked, like she had never felt self-conscious in her entire life. He had never met a girl like that before.

“I know I don’t look it, but I like sports,” she’s painting her toenails while trying to make a point about how masculinity hurts men too, “how do you think I knew you were a student athlete? You don’t exactly look like typical jock.”

Kent widened his eyes at that, “what’s that supposed to mean?”

“You know,” she grabs his ankle and moves his foot closer to her, he has a hole in the big toe of his sock, she slathers a layer of purple glitter polish on the exposed nail.

She looks up when she’s done, “You’re really pretty for a guy.”

He wasn’t sure how to react, he didn’t get a chance because one of her roommates came in.

“Whoa Cage brought home a boy,” the new girl fist pumped with a wicked grin.

Then she’s crawling into KJ’s space, kissing her on the mouth, slipping a hand under the opening of her robe and groping her chest. KJ smiled into the kiss, Kent felt a vague lecherous swooping in his stomach, he felt a bit like a pervert for not looking away. But really, he wasn’t sure if wanted to be KJ or the roommate.

He shakes the thought out of his head, he has a game to focus on.

The game starts out well enough, despite the time apart, playing Owen is still weird. Maybe extra weird since his head seems to be stuck in Michigan today. But he gets an assist on the first goal, and his head snaps back into focus.

And then as quick as it comes together, it falls apart.

When he falls, he immediately knows something is wrong, a sinking feeling of déjà vu. Surgery, rehab, months away from hockey; it’s a dizzying thought and he forces himself off the ice and down the tunnel before it becomes overwhelming.

The trainers gingerly take him out of his top gear, give him a fairly thorough look over to determine he’s definitely out for the game. He’s poked and prodded while he watches the teams trade goals. The useless feeling from last season starts to rear its ugly head.

The second period ends and so does the exam. He’s not going back in tonight, how long he’ll be out to be determined later. For now, he can take some pain meds and the rest of his gear off.

The guys are in the locker room when he starts to undress, he gets a few pats on the knee, most of the guys try not to give him that ‘sucks you’re injured’ sympathetic smile, but a couple slip through. A knee jerk reaction.

His phone is buzzing incessantly in his locker, like an annoying bug in his ears. Once he’s down in his base layers, he just soaks in being around the guys as they hype each other up for the last push. The sour feeling in his belly makes him worry he won’t get this any time soon.

Once the guys are back on the ice, he pulls out his phone. A text from his mom, some of the Michigan guys all hoping he’s okay.

The last one’s from KJ: That looked nasty, let me know if you’re still up to meet up afterwards, no pressure

He had gotten her a pass that would let her down to the family room, and he doesn’t want the night to be a total bust for her. He gives her directions on how to get downstairs before taking a shower, hoping to wash away some of this awful feeling.

The Blue Jackets win, which feels like a consolation prize for his shitty night. That and he’s given a free pass to skip any media obligations, since his injury is still of an uncertain severity. No one even seems to care that he leaves without changing back into his game day suit.

He turns the corner towards the family room and sees KJ talking to a group of WAGs.  They’re having an animated conversation like they’re all longtime friends. KJ looks up and sees him, quickly saying bye before she comes running over, their high ponytail swinging until they pull up short on Kent.

“I was gonna hug you, but that’s probably a bad idea,” They hold out a fist to bump instead.

“It probably doesn’t mean much since I’m clearly bad luck, but I had a lot of fun.”

“Injuries happen, not your fault. Besides you saw me at school all the time and I never got injured there.”

“Excellent point, we’ll have to do further research when you’re better,” she grins up at and he can’t help but smile back at her.

“Yeah, and you made some friends,” he nods towards the girlfriends who are still talking, maybe shooting subtle glances their way.

“Oh yeah, they just saw me awkwardly standing around and asked who I knew. Said we’re friends from college and as you can see, I’m wearing a pretty gay outfit so they definitely don’t think we’re dating.”

He looks over her outfit and can’t really point out what of the baggy jeans and jacket over a vintage CBJ t-shirt that looks like it’s seen a thousand washes is really gay, but he’s not really the expert. He thinks maybe it’s the Doc Martens before his eyes catch on the pins: A bright rainbow flag and one that says she/they.

He realizes he probably should have just responded, said something like ‘I don’t care if they think we’re dating.’ Which overall, yeah, he doesn’t particularly mind, he’d get equal amounts of chirps for his singleness or if he had a new girlfriend.

“Do you want to get some ice cream?”

“Huh?” He shakes himself out of his head.

“Ice cream? People tend to like to eat it when they’ve had a rough day, and you, KJ, have had a rough day.”

“Yeah, sure.”

KJ directs him not to an ice cream place, but a grocery store. Buying two pints by claiming ‘my treat’ before they end up on his couch. She lets him put on the Kraken game and talk her ear off about Matty and how teams across the league look for the new season.

When he starts to nod off, KJ takes his pint and puts it in the freezer and gives him a kiss on the cheek on the way out. He falls asleep forgetting about the pit in his stomach from earlier.

++++

The injury is deemed day-to-day, but the doctors seem to think it will be about a month before he gets the all clear. The dark pit in his stomach grows a little deeper. Sure, he doesn’t need more surgery or anything. But it doesn’t feel great going down two games into a new season. The season where he was finally going to prove himself in the NHL.

He goes home and eats the rest of the pint ice cream for lunch, because it’s not like he has to play tomorrow or the day after that or even the day after that. The feeling subsides for a bit, but it gnaws away enough that he has to leave his place. Before he knows it, he’s parked in front of KJ’s house.

He hasn’t been inside, just dropped her off. He rings the bell of the middle door he’s seen her enter. There’s an almost eerie silence after the ringing stops, he thinks about pressing the button again but then hears someone coming down the steps.

KJ opens the door in a fuzzy red robe.

“Hey KJ, this is a surprise,” they smile up at him.

“Yeah, I- uh- had a shitty day and wanted to see if you wanted to hang out?”

“I’m just watching TV in bed, if that interests you? My roommate is sleeping before she goes to work so we just have to be quiet.”

Kent takes off his shoes and follows them up the stairs and to the room off the kitchen before he has a chance to really look around. There’s a small TV on top of beat-up trunk at the foot of the bed that KJ hops back onto, getting comfy against the pillows and headboard.

Her room is lit up with pink-ish fairy lights, that kind of hide the clutter around the room. But he can’t stop from staring at strap on hanging on the wall, a graduation tassel hanging off the yellow harness.

They look between Kent and the wall, trying to hold back a laugh.

“It was a graduation gift for the seniors at The Spectrum, for graduating with honors. Like Some Cum Loud, it’s embroidered on the harness.”

She raises an eyebrow waiting for him to finally make eye contact, they can’t tell if his cheeks are actually pink or it’s just the lighting. He finally flicks his eyes toward her.

“That one’s never been used. The one I use is in a box under my bed,” KJ can’t hold back the giggle this time and gets a twisted smile from Kent in return.

They pat the spot next to them on the bed and wait for Kent to unclench a bit and get on the bed. Moving around some pillows trying to get comfortable.

“We’re watching Girls, it’s problematic and a little annoying but also iconically messy,” they press play without any room for discussion or comment.

And the pair drift into a comfortable silence. KJ fans her hair out on the pillows, it’s damp and will probably dry funny. Kent wonders if it’s soft.

An episode ends and new one begins before KJ finally says something.

“Do you want to talk about it?”

Kent shrugs, when he speaks his voice croaks more than usual, “not really.”

KJ hums, doesn’t say anything for a moment, then twists her body to face him. The slit at the front of her robe doesn’t move, revealing her pale leg all the way up to her hip and the pink underwear she has underneath.

“Do you want me to paint your fingernails?”

“No.”

“How about your toes?”

Kent scrunches his face, “No, I’m good.”

“I could braid your hair.”

“Do you need an activity?”

“I don’t know, I don’t have boys in my bed that often.”

“And that’s what you think boys in your bed want to do?”

She shimmies he shoulders, “no, I know what boys want in bed…”

Kent feels his face heat up, he didn’t mean to imply anything.

“But this has more slumber party vibes.”

They suddenly sit up onto their knees, and bounces on the bed, she brushes up against Kent’s thigh.

“We can order pizza and gossip about boys… well probably girls in our case.”

“I could go for pizza… not the gossip though.”

KJ adamantly slaps his thigh, “oh come on, you’re a professional athlete you’ve gotta have some fun stories from the road or something.”

He can’t stop the crooked smile in response and KJ knows she’s got him.

“I’ll find a way to crack you open, just you wait KJ,” they raise their brows a few times before grabbing their phone to look at pizza places.

And suddenly this is how most of Kent’s nights unfold. He’s still keyed up from not being able to play, watching from the press box helplessly, desperate to get out and skate. But it seems more manageable when he can pick KJ up from work and out to dinner or for TV in her bed or his couch.

He never really had a distraction outside of hockey before. He had class or studying at Michigan but that mostly meant hanging out with his teammates with books open in the athlete study hall or on rare occasions, the library. He tried to fill his empty injury time last season with reading, but it still felt like work for hockey when it was mostly books about mindset or other athletes.

This is different.

KJ smiles when he casually brings it up, that he likes having someone outside of his hockey bubble.

“Dumb, jock boy learns about work-life balance,” they laugh and goes back chopping vegetables in his kitchen.

He doesn’t bring up that he liked hanging out with her in college in the same way. That they only lived in the same place for about nine months and some of his time with KJ is still his fondest memories.

He liked when she invited him to parties.  Ones that didn’t always blast the same music he heard at the hockey house. Where people asked where he was from or what his major was rather than how was the Olympics or when are you leaving for the NHL. Liked that they talked about things he didn’t know anything about and didn’t make fun of him (much), just told him in a way he could understand.

He’s glad he gets to have this with KJ for the foreseeable future, even if it’ll less frequent when he gets back on the ice.

“Are you going to be playing again next week?” She dumps the vegetables in a frying pan.

“Probably not, I think I’m going to be able to practice maybe, or at least skate.”

“That’s exciting! And I hope maybe you get to play sooner than you think, but if you’re not, do you want to go to a ‘Boob Voyage’ party with me?”

“A what?”

“My friend is getting his top surgery, so we’re throwing him party to say ‘ta ta to his tatas.”

“Clever.”

“It’s not your usual crowd, but it’s basically gonna be a college party at a place with a less sticky floor. And I’ll make sure no one posts anything with you on social media, just thought maybe you could meet some of my friends.”

She says it a little too fast, like they’re nervous. Something Kent’s not sure he’s ever witnessed. He can’t tell if it’s nerves about him saying no or him meeting their friends. KJ has met a couple of his teammates; Adam lives nearby and is coming over for dinner in a few minutes.

“Sure, I’ll go,” and it’s worth the answer just to see her smile.

++++

“Maybe you don’t need to change, you’re dressed like a lesbian,” KJ laughs when Kent opens the door.

“What?”

“I have that exact outfit in my closet,” they laugh pointing mostly at the Birkenstock clogs he’s been wearing since he left the rink.

A retort dries on his tongue when KJ takes off her coat. She’s wearing a white sweater vest with nothing underneath, only the top button holding it together. The loose knit not hiding their dark, rosy nipples underneath.

Thankfully, KJ doesn’t seem to notice the staring.

“Do you mind if I finish my makeup while you get dressed?” She’s holding up her purse, shaking its contents in his face, “But no pressure, you can wear that, you’d fit in pretty well.”

He rolls his eyes and leads them up to his bedroom, a place they haven’t been to except for the brief tour he gave during the first visit.

She walks into the ensuite like she owns the place, leaving the door open and looking at Kent who feels like he’s helplessly staring.

“You can give me a little fashion show if you’re not sure what you’re going to wear, but whatever is probably be fine. James, who’s party it is, is totally basic dude fashion.”

Kent nods and wanders over to his walk-in closet. He tries not to overthink anything while he flips through his hangers.

Once he’s dressed, he leans in the bathroom door until KJ notices.

“Oooh, I like the red, very The Ohio State,” they smile at the bright red button down he’s wearing over a cream shirt.

Kent rolls his eyes and moves to go back to his closet.

“You can’t be mad at me for being an Ohio native. But let me try it again. Go Blue! And you look very Canadian, patriotic.”

“Better,” his mouth twists into a smirk while he looks in the mirror to fix his hair, after wearing a beanie all day.

KJ finishes applying mascara, one eye has swoosh of blue eyeliner and the other pink. Then jumps to sit on the counter, in between the his and hers sinks he doesn’t have a real need for.

“Let me do your make up,” it’s easier for them to bat their eyelashes when they’re thick and sooty like this.

Kent can feel his face contort in a look between confusion and disgust, he doesn’t even need to look up at his reflection.

“Come on, you’ll look so cute! I mean, you’re always cute but even cuter,” she pushes a lock of his hair out of his face, “I’ll keep it simple, just highlight your perfect cheekbones and a little eye makeup.”

She stares him down like she’s not going to beg, but she’s also not going to give up.

“Fine, but only cause you’re making me feel underdressed.”

He lets KJ rearrange him between their open legs, they grab his chin and positions his face the way they want. She gets the intense, focused look on her face when she starts. Her mouth hangs open a bit, their tongue pushing against the gap in their front two teeth.

Kent wants to put his tongue there, too.

He shakes his head like the intrusive thought will fall out, KJ laughs when it causes their brush to go off course. She uses her thumb to try and correct the mistake.

“All done,” they give his cheeks a quick squeeze together and hop off the counter.

She’s still standing in front of him, back pressed all against his front. Looking for approval from his reflection.

He feels kind of pretty.

His cheekbones look somehow sharper and softer at the same time, his eyes brighter than usual with sharp black eyeliner, a sprinkling of glitter at the corner of his eyes.

“Do you like it? I won’t tell anyone if you do,” biting their lip, looking a bit nervous.

Kent can only wordlessly nod, he doesn’t hate it and he’s not quite sure how he feels about that.

“Okay, let’s go.”

They arrive to the party and roar of cheers come with KJ’s arrival. They hold Kent’s hand while they make introductions.

“Let’s play beer pong, loosen you up a bit,” pulls him towards the table, let’s go of his hand for the first time since they arrived.

The beer pong is familiar enough to make him relax a bit. The balls are bright pink and they’re using champagne glasses, when they sink a shot it kind of looks like nipple. He guesses that’s sort of the point.

They win a game and KJ jumps into his arms to celebrate. He feels drunk even though he’s only had maybe one drink.

But then there’s shots and dancing where he can feel the heat radiating off KJ’s body.  

There are more shots and people asking Kent questions he normally would never think about, like how the NHL insurance is.

Another shot and then getting shoved into a rented photobooth with strangers.

He gets another drink and laughs from couch with KJ’s friends, KJ comes and plops half on the arm of the couch, half in his lap. His hand carefully rests on her hip.

“Cage, when you said you were bringing a straight boy, I didn’t think you meant your beard from Mich!” A bleach blonde woman Kent vaguely remembers meeting in college shouts from her chair across from them.

KJ flips her off, while she tells their new friends that they used to call them gay KJ and straight KJ after they learned he was in fact not a butch lesbian.

“I’m expanding our hetero horizons, we’re like one more shared ex-girlfriend from being an incestuous cult,” KJ laughs and slides completely into Kent’s lap

“You’re really enjoy that hetero exploration,” a man whose name Kent forgot catcalls.

“Guys stop! You’re gonna make him think we’re really narrow-minded gays.”

KJ laughs and wraps an arm around Kent’s shoulder, as the conversation ping pongs into another direction.

They stumble out into the street at about 2 AM, Kent thinks it’s the drunkest he’s been since college.

“My place is closer, let’s walk there,” KJ slurs and pulls him in that direction.

They’re arm in arm while they walk towards her place, it reminds Kent of the time KJ came to a hockey party and at the end of the night she begged for him to give her a piggyback ride home because she was so tired.

KJ fumbles with their keys and falls through the door with Kent on top of her when it suddenly opens. They both can’t hold back their laughs.

“Shh, shhhh, we don’t want to wake your roommate,” Kent tries to stop laughing.

“She’s working at the lab this weekend, we’re all good,” they start up the stairs after hanging up their coat.

Kent strips to his boxers and crawls into bed, he’s never gotten under the covers here. Just sat on top of the duvet with KJ like they were two teenagers worried a parent would walk in and assume the worst.

KJ comes back on wobbly legs, her hair piled on top of her head with a claw clip holding it in place, it looks kind of stupid. Their makeup is washed off and they’re wearing glasses that remind him of Owen’s, which is the last thing he wants to be thinking about right now.

Especially when KJ is crawling on top of him.

He’s about to say something when they move to hold his chin in place. Her thumb drifts up to his lower lip, nail pressing against the soft flesh. He sucks in a breath, their thumb drifts into his mouth.

KJ’s gaze is so adoring, he feels paralyzed by all the emotions going through his head.

She then brings a washcloth up to his face and gently wipes away the makeup. Kent hates that he has to close his eyes, like it’s breaking some spell that hasn’t finished casting.

When they pull the washcloth away, they tilt his head side to side, checking their work.

“Perfect,” KJ leans in close.

Kent has to hold his breath, tries to stop himself from being impulsive. Then KJ’s lips are touching his and he knows deep down it’s probably meant to be a quick peck, but he has to try or he’ll regret missing his perfect chance.

He grabs their hips with one hand and gently cups the back of her neck with the other. His grip is loose enough that KJ could break away if she wanted to, but instead they start to kiss back.

The washcloth slaps to ground while KJ moves to use Kent’s shoulder for stability. Their tongues meet in the middle and it all feels that much more intoxicating than any of the alcohol he had tonight.

Now that he knows she’s not pulling away he moves his hand at their neck down her chest. KJ hasn’t changed yet, and it’s easy to flick open the one button and expose their bare chest.  He grabs a handful and she moans into his mouth.

KJ can’t seem to hold themselves up anymore. Pinning Kent’s hand between their bodies. KJ is soft and curvy everywhere Kent is flat and firm, and their bodies seem to mold together.

“I’m sorry, I’m drunk.”

Kent’s suddenly cold and KJ seems to have flung herself across the room.

He doesn’t know what’s the right thing to say, he doesn’t know why KJ is apologizing; he’s the one who started this.

She’s taking off her sweater and pants, changing into their pajamas and all he can do is gawk like a moron, until they turn off the lights.

“I’m drunk too,” he finely says, lamely late into the dark.

“Good night, KJ,” she whispers into the dark.

“Night KJ, I had fun,” he whispers back, a hand reaches across the bed and squeezes his, it might as well be squeezing his heart.

++++

He leaves the next morning before KJ wakes up; a walk of shame for his actions, for the conversation he doesn’t know how to have, for the things he’s not ready to admit.

Then he’s back on the ice for a full-contact practice and there’s not much time to think about it. It doesn’t stop the guilt from stewing deep down in his gut, but it’s easier to ignore when he’s back in the lineup.

Harder to ignore when he gets a series of texts from KJ:

ur game is on at this bar

saw you score 🍻😘

 first game back baby 💖🥵💪

He knows he should probably invite her to a game now, make a peace offering that might make things seem normal. They’ve been texting like everything is normal, KJ sent him some pictures from the party. Maybe KJ is showing him mercy by ignoring what happened, maybe they don’t even remember.

He hearts the texts and talks about plans to celebrate with some of the guys.

They continue to live in ignorance while the guilt and confusion gnaws at his insides.

Then it’s shoved in his face at team’s Thanksgiving dinner. The first thing someone yells at him, “KJ where’s your girlfriend?”

He tries to play it off, making a joke about Fants who he carpooled with, it holds them off for approximately 10 minutes.

Zach’s fiancée, who had all of one conversation with KJ, asks him next, “Why didn’t you bring your girlfriend? Afraid of the full team interrogation?”

He doesn’t even know where to begin. That’s KJ isn’t his girlfriend? That they wouldn’t even be his girlfriend if they were dating? She would be his partner? Some other term he doesn’t even know yet?

“Um, she’s­ – they’re volunteering with some friends.”

“Okay, so not at the introducing to all the friends or spending holidays together phase, I understand,” she winks and walks away and Kent knows she doesn’t understand anything.

He gets a small reprieve with a week-long road trip where he feels so busy, that the plane-bus-hotel-practice-game-sleep repeat has never felt so good. And if he’s acting weird or aloof, no one comments. He takes it all as a win, even if they lose three in a row.

They lose the first game of the homestead; he wakes up to a text from KJ.

The washer in our building broke can I come do laundry?

It’s maybe the most innocuous thing they could have texted. He invites her over that night, offers to order dinner for them.

They come over in a pair of threadbare sweatpants and rainbow block M shirt, dragging a large rolling suitcase, pushing past Kent at the door to go to the laundry closet. They just start dumping things into the washer, pouring in soap, and ignoring Kent who doesn’t even know how to start talking. Even if there might not be anything to talk about.

She slams washer door and punches buttons until it comes to life, finally turning to Kent.

They cut their hair since he lost saw her. It’s almost as short as his hair, a choppy approximation of a mullet. It suits them.

“So, let’s sit down and talk about that kiss,” they come right out and say it, Kent chokes on his breath.

“You brought laundry for an ambush?”

“Our washer really is broken, so it was a good excuse. And I get free laundry done.”

He can’t fault her for that, let’s himself get pushed towards the living room couch to face the music.

“I’m sorry,” he blurts the moment they’re both sitting.

KJ bites their lip, her tooth gap barely peeking out.

“For what?” she says it so timidly, like she’s just as unsure about all of this as Kent.

Which can’t possibly be true, because they always know. They’re always so sure and headstrong. And Kent’s the one who misread everything, pushed himself on her without thinking about what KJ really wants. Only his own selfish desires.

“I shouldn’t have taken advantage of you when you were drunk, I know you don’t— you wouldn���t— I’m not—" he doesn’t know how to fill in that blank.

“You’re not what? My type?” Kent can only shrug, “and why’s that? Cause you’re straight?”

“I don’t know, I’m just confused,” he mumbles, can’t even look up to see what kind of expression KJ is making.

“Well having a crush on me does make you a little less straight,” KJ snickers and it makes him look up.

They’re giving him a sad kind of smile. He doesn’t know how to take it, but he doesn’t feel like he’s about to be reprimanded.

“And that’s what that was right? You have a crush on me?” Kent purses his lips, doesn’t want to make the wrong move.

“Because, I have a little bit of a crush on you too,” she puts a hand on his knee and squeezes, it’s electric.

“But you stopped us, and then apologized.”

“Being drunk isn’t usually a great starting point for big monumental changes between friends and,” she takes a big breath, “and I’ve never actually had sex with um—” they gesture in the general direction of Kent’s crotch.

“What?” Kent cocks his head to the side.

“I mean, I didn’t even know I liked boys until college and by then I was pretty comfortable with the lesbian sex and—"

“Didn’t you have a boyfriend like a year ago?” He remembers seeing something on Instagram.

“He was trans so… it’s not the penetration part cause, trust, I’ve had my fair share of penetration. I’ve given my fair share of penetration,” they ruffle their own hair while they ramble, Kent’s kind of endeared.

“And like the one time I gave a blow job in college I was like super drunk and threw up on his dick… so I went back to the lesbian sex because I’m good at that.”

He can’t hold back the surprised laugh. He’s not used to this squirmy KJ.

“So, the biological equipment is all kind of new to me; it’s soft and then it’s hard and then there’s a mess and—”

“KJ, shut up.”

Kent cups their face so she can focus on him.

“As much as I love you being the uncomfortable one for once, just shut up.”

She stares at him with wide eyes, waiting for his next move.

“Here I was worrying I forced myself on you and questioning my identity, and you’re having an existential crisis about my dick?”

Their eyebrows shoot up to their hairline, “you were questioning your identity?”

“We can circle back to that later,” he leans in to kiss them, before they can say anything else.

The first kiss was nice, but this one is great. There’s certainty behind it that makes Kent feel warm all over. He pushes KJ onto their back, her legs fall open and Kent slots between them.

After what feels like eternity, they come up for air. They tangle their fingers in his hair, keeping him from getting too far away. Her legs tighten around his hips, like she’s testing where the new boundaries might be.

The washer chimes that it’s done.

KJ kisses him once, twice then pushes him off to go to the laundry. His eyes follow her helplessly.

She comes back sans sweatpants, the t-shirt falling just past the tops of the their thighs, and stops at the foot of the stairs.

“I think your bedroom might be a more conducive learning environment,” she gives him a lopsided, shy smile.

He jumps over the back of the couch, scrambling towards them. He grabs their hips and pulls them back into a kiss, but stops before he gets in too deep.

“What if this ruins our friendship?”

“Eh, have other friends,” she has a wicked grin, Kent bites their lip in retaliation.

[vegaly-art]

Oh character design my beloved. Expect more of these to come because I'm getting into a new audioplay channel too, along with DA:TV, so there's some new characters coming down the pipeline ;). Anyhow, this is my Antivan Crow Rook, Kariy "Carrion" De Riva (Any/All). A Crow investigator, spy, and infiltrator, as well as a mage. He wasn't exactly up to the fighting and such potentially involved in crow assassinations, being more feeble, but was damn good at tracking people and keeping secrets. He's someone who values words over violence, and cooperation even at the cost of personal well being. A true crow (the bird), who knows the value of the group, and the occasional need to work alone.

As is the carrion bird, as is he. Raised in a small village bordering Antiva and Tevinter, where the cold consumed and the world would lay dark for months in mountain's shade, she learned to survive. Her mother tended the farm, but she was much too feeble to help, and so she interacted with her little. And her father was an author and researcher, dedicated to his craft, giving books in place of time spent and only realising her error as he lay dying in her arms, seeing that she had already grown out of the child he assumed he would see... He lives even now with the pack mentality of those cold dark days, knowing that a group is safer than going alone. Even magic could only do so much against the bitter cold, but he learned it gratefully, as did he acquire a tracker's heart and a secret seeker's mind.

But a group needed cohesion, and due to a local shake up in power, a mage like him, soon found power held little respect for him, nor he for it. It killed its father, and caused its mother to turn her back on it, and so he needed not stay. So he chose to move to the coast, falling into the arms of the Antivan Crows, his skills there being of some use. He works as a spy, and as a sleuth, secrets in every pocket, and only enough kills to fit on both hands.

He could kill plenty well, but it was messy work, and for so long not his expertise. He specialises in searching and finding, glamour and illusion, and pretty, tricky words. He was an artist in all he does, and makes the most of it. She is now a few years into the trade, and secretive is she, as she must be to work. Though secretive is she also to keep the peace. If she must keep herself hidden, and falsely strong, so that they need not survive alone, they will, even if they feel no better for it.

And even in spite of the secrecy, he loves others and himself deeply, against convention, as no one else might. He fights hard and chose firmly, as sometimes no one else did. He pushes for truth (as much as he may have to lie to do it), as sometimes no one else would. It survives, and not alone, as no one else should.

Also, some little details about the design that I love very much: - I dressed him in VERY clear 1890s european style dress. Specifically women's, because I love fashion of the time. :) - POCKETS! So many pockets. There are 4 in the sleeves, one on the back under the feather trim, 7 total long the corset including under the front panel, 2 in the skirt, plus some space in the boots, garders under the skirt, and an external pocket on the waist. An investigator/spy needs lots of room for evidence, poison, pens, and as any good crow knows... some hidden knives <3. - Not visible because of the book but they've got a pretty big open space on the chest of the shirt. Davrin, Neve, and Carrion compete for the biggest boob window <3. - The little sewing kit broach on the waist actually is filled with various assassin's tools. The scissors and lighter function as weapons, the key is a lockpicking tool that looks like a key, and the needle container actually has poison in it. <3 - The large facial scar is from The Incident(tm) that got Kariy ex-communicated for a bit from the crows. Though he's got many others from work and earlier in life. Lots of bramble scars.