#i rarely dream about them so it’s amazing when i do!

[veiledvvitch]

A little excerpt of some of my short stories on my Inquisitor and Solas. ❤️

" In the early days of the Inquisition, Solas struggled to keep himself in check around the Lady Herald - who sought him out for guidance due to his knowledge on all matters of the Fade and even on her mark.

"Please harhen" Orianna had pleaded when he told her he did not have time to discuss such matters in detail. He nearly chortled himself when he heard her call him harhen.

"Forgive my hesitation Herald, I'm not used to such openmindedness. What do you wish to know?"

Orianna appeared ecstatic, "Everything. As you know I am the first of my Keeper, it is my duty to seek knowledge for my clan."

Solas had guised upon her vallaslin of Dirthamen, it horrified him to see such markings worn with pride. Yet when he looked beyond them, something weakened him.

"Knowledge that is so often spun it is no longer within range of truth."

"-As we've allready established. But I want to learn, I want to know."

His face softened, those wide amber eyes had such an unfortunate effect on him.

"You are... virtuous, if not willing." He pondered, slowly easing up to the idea of passing his knowledge. But it was not easy for him to lie to her, to bend the truth while disguising his part in it.

"-And a quick learner too." She smiled, and he had to chuckle.

So he told her about his journeys through the fade, the many things he had seen and its perils and prizes.

Orianna was filled with awe and wonder at his stories, she questioned none of them at all.

"I've encountered spirits before, but never demons. My Keeper says I frighten them." Orianna told him reluctantly. He had of course allready seen it for himself. Her radiance, something that was in her long before the anchor had ever marked her hand.

"Such an amazing gift. If you'd like, I could guide you, through a dream I mean."

Orianna lit up, "You would? I'd love that Solas." She appeared reluctant, "Not that I find it easy to dream these days. Sleep rarely finds me." He could see the darkned circles around her eyes, her role was taking a hold on her.

"There are methods, practiced by the ancient elves who were somniari like you and me. I'll teach you."

And so he did, when she appeared at his hut late at night she was thrilled, although she tried to hold her compusure. He invited her in, worried that someone might see and question it. "

[bloodyinkandquill]

Venomshank x hawk-hybrid pet Reader

ok i actually asked katz-ke for help on this one because like the last one i had no ideas sorry requester, however they helped and gave me some good ideas that definitely gave me more motivation and ideas for this one in general, so thanks again katz!!! you’re amazing i adore your stuff id anyone here doesn’t know who they are go check them out, anyways onto the hcs

- How did you end up here? No genuinely you went from a pet to a deity to instead dating said deity, you’re out here living some simps dream

- You’ve always had an unusual power, hybrids weren’t rare, winged hybrids were on the rarer side, usually only stemming from receiving a blessing from one of the deities, but you were, and on top of being an avian you also could transform into an actual hawk, which was basically unheard of, you also had a rather unique coloration when in bird form, darker then your average hawk with an interesting pattern on your wings

- Which is how you ended up one day in your hawk form, chilling and enjoying being a bird, what? It’s nice to escape the responsibilities of adult life for a little while and you can eat bread a shit, you were chilling when suddenly another bird flew up next to you, at first you thought it was a crow but that didn’t seem right, a raven? No it wasn’t that either, it seemed an odd mix of both corvids but larger and, almost a dark green rather then black, but living in Crossroads you see odd shit a lot so you didn’t dwell on it

- Well that bird seemed to want you to follow it a few minutes later and it lead you to a dropped container of fries, aka the jackpot, you happily started eating them but noticed the other bird wasn’t doing anything, you shrugged it off, probably just already ate its fill and was letting you have yours, after eating you did some sort of appreciative dance, you weren’t fluent in bird language let alone weird corvid language so you hoped it conveyed your thankfulness, you were about to fly off when suddenly the bird changed into a demon, no that’s not it, into one of the Swords

- Holy shit, was all you could think as he scooped you up and started flying away with you but now in his demonoid form, alright this was happening, you must have intrigued him as a bird if he was taking you somewhere, you just let it happen and pretended to still be a regular old bird, maybe if you seemed normal he’d get bored and let you go

- Nope you were now in his temple in a, rather fancy, bird cage, this was not on your weekend itinerary, for a few days it went that he or one of his temple workers would feed you and give you toys and enrichment, you could sort of fly around the cage but it wasn’t big enough to transform back and therefore display you were not a bird, least Venomshank seemed kind enough

- After a few days stuck inside the cage he appeared and said, basically talking to himself, that he should let you out for a good fly, the second he took you out of that cage you transformed back into your demon form with an almost traumatized look on your face as you turned to look at him and his horrified expression, after a conversation he was apologetic about taking you as a pet since he didn’t really you were a demon not an actual bird, you said it was fine but gods you missed having arms

- From there you agreed to live at his temple, you had nowhere better to live and he was offering a free room in exchange for taking care of the birds that resided in the gardens surrounding it, this was one of his smaller temples but it was surrounded by gardens and therefore lots of birds, he’d stop by and check in with you and the rest of the happenings every once in a while, he slowly started to check in more and more until one day suddenly you were dating, you weren’t complaining you just weren’t fully sure how you got there honestly

- Oh my gods you never knew the wonder of preening, you’d never gotten close enough to another demon to preen your wings when in demon form, and definitely not close enough to a bird to preen you in bird form, however now that you had someone who had wings in demonoid form and could also become a bird, he knew exactly how to preen you in both forms and it was heaven, you of course preened him back which he was thankful for, with not seeing Sword as much as when he was a kid he didn’t get a chance to be preened as often so he was so thankful to have someone to help him preen again

- Maybe you didn’t quite have the corvid bird brain of gifting shiny things but you still did have a slight bird brain to the point that you did enjoy collecting and gifting small trinkets and sparklies, and Venomshank being some weird version of a corvid had that instinct but stronger, so you both end up gifting each other small things you find, especially when you go flying together in bird form, which is basically your go-to date, if either of you notice something interesting while flying you’ll dive down and grab it, give it to the other who turns demonoid for a moment to put it in their pocket then back to bird form, luckily the items don’t disappear neither of you know where any of your stuff like clothes or items go when you go bird form but you mutually agreed not to question it

- With the flying dates you also enjoy flying through one of the regions or preferably Crossroads and finding the tallest building around and flying onto the roof to look at all the beautiful lights at night, maybe you’ll switch back to demonoid form but sometimes you prefer to stay as birds where everything looks so much brighter and shinier to your bird eyes, its beautiful and it’s nice knowing that you two are maybe the only two people to ever see the views with a demon brain but bird eyes

- With living in his temple you went from a regular room to the best room in the temple, technically speaking it’s supposed to be his room but before you he almost never spent enough time in that temple to need to use the room, so it became yours and his, which does mean it’s full of a few of his things, which with your slight bird brain only means one thing, nesting, on the floor you set up a nest big enough for both of you to fit in full of pillows, blankets, clothes, and some of the items you gifted each other, and on the desk and actual bird nest, slightly comfier, still sized to fit both of you but this time in bird form, it’s less used but still nice to have

- Since he’s well, Venomshank one of the swords he has to leave for occasionally weeks at a time, which makes you more thankful for the nest to have something with his scent and feathers in for when your missing him, once he returns from his duties you’ll be in that nest for at least the next two days together, not that you mind but if anyone walks into the room they’ll see a mess of feathers and the occasional body parts making so many freaking cooing sounds

- Speaking of cooing sounds both of you make bird noises in and out of bird form, it’s more common in bird form but it’s still not uncommon to coo or squawk in demonoid form, you coo and trill with each other, make squawks and chirps, sometimes it sounds like a gods damn bird sanctuary when you’re both around, you also can sort of communicate with the bird noises which is nice as well

- He gives you a necklace or earring, with just one of his feathers, it takes you a moment to realize it’s his shiniest best feather, not quite a proposal but more of a promise ring, you wear it with pride and do the same finding your best feather to give him in exchange, he puts it in his hat and somehow when in bird form you now both have a feather, not attached to you but buried into your feathers so it doesn’t fall out, of each other’s, he has one of your hawk feathers and you have one of his… corvid feathers, neither of you understand the logistics of how that works but again you have up questioning it

hope this is good again thanks so much katz-ke for the help!! this was fun to write once i got into the groove of it honestly, alright i made a deal with myself once i wrote this id let myself reread a fanfic i love so im off to do that toodles

[kkst0904]

[strawberry-halla]

something so amazing about solas is that he is very good at predicting his enemies and his allies moves. he’s always thinking 5 steps ahead, even varric says this. (long post incoming!)

but when it comes to lavellan, he could never predict her. when he first meets her, solas thinks she’s just another dalish elf that is unwilling to listen to his advice. nope turns out she can be willing and not only that but asks him about what he knows so she can better understand the fade/spirits/ancient elves.

and then the haven dream kiss! she’s the one who initiates and solas is once again thrown off guard because he never expected that. and then he just gives into it with so much passion and fade tongue.

in all new, faded for her, solas is once again surprised lavellan agrees with his plan to free his friend, the spirit of wisdom. because nobody in the entire inquisition (except cole) would be down for this?? like all the world knows about spirits is that they don’t ever come in contact with people unless very rarely. they’re an enigma, something to be feared even because they can become demons. but nah lavellan is like ‘yep sounds good let’s go save your friend!’

and solas after this tries to rationalize lavellan’s bizarre behavior as something the anchor changed about her. because he has always known how to read people. he can’t understand her. he thinks her ‘spirit’ has changed due to magic’s influence.

but no, lavellan surprises once again by pointing out that her choices are her own or that if the anchor did change her, wouldn’t she notice? like no wonder solas is so fucking down bad. lavellan subverts everything he thought about the modern people, not just exclusively elves. she’s constantly showing him new points of view and challenging his whole mission. and so the cracks start to form.

���you show a wisdom i haven’t seen since…*pause* my deepest journeys into the ancient memories of the fade.”

“your mind, your morals, your… *pause* spirit.”

“it would be kinder in the long run. but losing you would- *cuts himself off*”

and then if lavellan drinks from the well, this conversation and the previous quest itself (what pride had wrought) just cracks solas wide open (even if she didn’t drink). he’s visibly upset because he’s afraid the well will change lavellan and he knows first hand what it’s like to do everything for someone who made the wrong choices! so solas asks what she would do with the power of the well and he’s ONCE AGAIN thrown off guard by her answer. i really like the “help the world move forward” option because it almost aligns with solas’s plan but it doesn’t.

s: “you would risk everything you have in the hope the future is better? what if it isn’t? what if you wake up to find the future you shaped is worse than what it was?”

l: “i’ll take a breath, see where things went wrong, and then try again.”

s: “just like that?”

l: “if we don’t keep trying, we’ll never get it right.”

you’d think this would be an affirmation that solas’s plan is right, but it’s not. lavellan is wanting to fix things now and shape a better future with the well’s power. it’s eerily similar, but once again a path solas didn’t consider. she surprises once more. using the wisdom from the well to help, rather than command. sound familiar? this conversation just solidifies solas’s want. to be himself and to be solas, not fen’harel, with lavellan.

so he takes her to crestwood. somewhere intimate and quiet just for the two of them. a place where the veil is thinnest because it’s easy for spirits to cross and be comfortable. solas is going to tell lavellan the truth. he’s going to abandon his plan. but then solas gets in his own head. he fights with the possibility of her rejecting him because why wouldn’t she? he’s the very god in her culture that ruined everything. what if lavellan sees him for the monster history painted him? and then he realizes why he even wanted to tear down the veil. to avenge his oldest friend and right the wrongs he did to the elves. and it all comes crashing down in not even a second.

“then what i must tell you… *pause* …the truth.”

solas backpedals so fucking hard. the reality of everything just hits him. so he quickly redirects to the vallaslin topic because it’s familiar as he looks down at lavellan’s face and sees the markings of the very gods he locked away.

remove the vallaslin or not solas still loves her no matter what. and the sad option is still my favorite here because once again solas is slipping.

s: “you have a rare and marvelous spirit. in another world-“

l: “why not this one?”

and then at the end of veilguard, lavellan does one more thing solas doesn’t expect. after hurting her, betraying her, leaving her alone without any answers, killing one of her friends, and almost succeeding in his plan, she forgives him. lavellan abandons thedas and everything she knew to be with him. to the very end, she is subverting his tragic expectations.

“this journey is not yours alone. we make it together, always.”

[b14augrana]

Ad Astra Per Aspera

Your story goes deeper than what meets Alexia’s eye

Alexia Putellas x teen!reader

pt. 2 masterlist

Warnings: this story contains depictions of alcoholism, adultery, and familial issues. read at your own discretion. aditionally, alexia is pretty mean in this and there wont be a happy ending for a few parts 😬

A/N: massive thank you to this request for the amazing idea 🫶🏼. r is 18 y/o but still going under teen!reader. this is going to be multiple parts because theres so much i could do for this request that i find impossible to fit into one part and write to a good standard, so here you go!

The Stands

Football unites the world. It brings people, cities, and countries together, like nothing else.

You’ve seen it happen in your beautiful hometown of Barcelona — all you can see during the hours leading up to any match set to be played in the Camp Nou is red and blue in the sky. Blaugrana painted the streets below, and the entire city came alive with the commotion from the stadium.

You spent your entire childhood being part of the roaring atmosphere, waving your Barça flag proudly in the air alongside every other flag and wearing the infamous colours across your chest.

Most of all, you prayed with every bit of faith in you, that one day you’d be on the pitch, playing for the club of your dreams.

Everyone in the crowd had their own individual life. There could be a single mother, a lawyer who used up his last days of leave to attend the match, a young boy with his father, an elderly person on an outing with his wife, someone from abroad who’s spent thousands and travelled for hours to watch their favourite player in real life.

11 players could bring together almost 100,000 people just to watch them kick a ball around, and you wanted to have the same effect. You wanted to be so good at football and have the ability to transform a simple sport about kicking a ball around into 90 minutes of entertainment, performance, art. You wanted to do it with Barcelona.

You trained meticulously for months. You passed your small, worn out ball against the same fence in your backyard, you practiced your touch by juggling until the frustration made you storm away in tears and you learned new skills and used your own shoes as cones to pose as defenders and dribble around.

When you went to the Camp Nou to trial for the renowned La Masia academy, you were little and clutching your FC Barcelona backpack for support. The stadium already looked so big when you were up in the stands, but when it was empty and you were actually on the pitch, it was even bigger. You were stood on the same grass as your idols that once had the same dream as you, and that was unbelievable.

The start of your journey as a player at FC Barcelona had begun.

Day after day, you woke up early for training. Your siblings were never awake at that time, so the rare moment of peaceful alone time with your mother was something you looked forward to every morning.

She drove you to the La Masia facilities and then picked you up at sunset. Sometimes, when she had to work late, you and some of your teammates would go to the park and play with the other local kids until your parents came.

Those were the same teammates that you got promoted to the B team with, and the evening 5-a-side games in the park never stopped. They were your best friends — you all shared a common dream of getting to the first team and playing in big tournaments and winning titles, and even though you realistically wouldn’t all be able to do that, no one ever stopped believing that one day it would happen.

As you grew up and your career just started to take off, things started to change. Not just in football, but your life off the pitch too. All at the age of thirteen.

Your father started coming home late. As if your mother was stupid, he’d waltz into the house in the middle of the night, claiming he had to stay a little late because a last minute meeting was called or he lost track of the time. The mild arguments started, and when the late arrivals became more frequent, your mother’s suspicions grew stronger.

One night, it came to a halt. Just when you stopped expecting it, he came home at his regular time; half past six. The only difference was, he didn’t look happy to be home at all. A frown tainted his face ans there was something off-putting about his demeanour. Soon, it all made sense.

You watched from around the corner, your head barely peeking out. Your dad shrugged his blazer off, and you noticed the way his mouth twitched as if hesitating to say something. Once he spoke, a big part of you wished he hesitated a bit more and realised down the line that he was making a bad decision, but it was too late.

The reason he was working late, the secrecy, the floral smells that lingered on his shirts; he was never working overtime, the floral smells were not from the diffuser in the office, and he did have something to hide.

It was called infidelity.

Your siblings emerged from their rooms as soon as the cacophonous yelling started, and you were quick to usher them away from the arguing.

The reality of how bad the situation really was hadn’t yet settled in, but you knew the outcome wasn’t going to be good.

Your youngest brother complained about his rumbling stomach, and the other two were quick to jump on the hunger train. For a moment you were stumped, because you didn’t want to go into the kitchen where the argument was taking place and get dragged into it, so your solution was grabbing a €50 bill and sneaking out to the nearest restaurant.

You were the oldest of four kids. After you was one of two boys, Lorenzo, and then the twins, Magdalene and Dani. They shared the same passion for football as you, and your fondest memories consisted on being in the stands of Camp Nou with them.

All of you snagged a table in a cozy restaurant, one you were familiar with due to going there multiple times with the rest of your family.

The hour you spent in that restaurant with your siblings turned out to be the last hour of a carefree life you’d get to indulge in.

The Pitch

You turned 18 last week, but you got promoted to the first team last month. The headlines painted you as an emblem of success for Barça’s youth programme, the future captain of the first team, and there were all these opinions flying around about you as a player. The opinion that mattered most, though, was that of your captain.

You and Alexia Putellas didn’t get along. Her opinion on you was nothing short of disapproving, and she let you know of that as you arrived at practice.

“(Y/N),” the woman said, her voice holding notes of irritation as she approached you. You looked at her, preparing yourself for the inevitable lecture.

“You’re late again. You might be young, but over here you’re the same as all of us no matter your age, which means getting to training at the same time as us,” she berated you, her hands set on her hips and her eyebrows furled in annoyance.

“Look, captain, I had to–” you started, but your explanation was cut short by Alexia.

“I don’t have time for your excuses. Do better next time, or you’re sitting out of practice entirely. Go run your laps,” she snarled, dismissing you with a wave of her hand.

You could only watch in anger as she stormed away while the others looked at you sympathetically, and you bit your tongue as you walked to the locker room and dumped your bag in your cubby.

She belittled you in every interaction you two had, which was a shame because you really liked her beforehand. In fact, you looked up to her, and you looked forward to being captained by her, but now it was hell on earth every time you entered the gates and met her scrutinising gaze.

Training was nothing special. It was the same old passing drills, small-sided games, shooting and free kick practice, and then before you knew it, home time.

You slung your bag over your shoulder and left before Alexia could stop you and give you yet another lecture. After stopping at the primary school to pick up Magdalene and Dani, you three drove to the middle school to pick up Lorenzo. Barcelona rush hour was rife around the time you picked up your siblings, so you spent another half an hour stuck in traffic until you finally got home.

All you wanted was your bed, and a nap. Still, you dragged yourself to the kitchen to make something quick for dinner so it was ready for your siblings when they were hungry, and then you tidied up in the living room.

Ever since your dad left, your mother was a wreck, leaving you as the successor to her caretaking duties of the kids. She was never a drinker, but after he left, she found herself depending on alcohol for a quick escape.

It was nice for a little bit; a short break from the world that always ended too soon. She kept chasing and chasing that relief until she was in too deep, and it was never enough. The bottles multiplied, the cans lined the rubbish bins, the stench polluted the air that once smelled of a fresh vanilla essence, and she became latched onto it.

You blamed your father for it all, because it was his unchastity that motivated every drink. Your mother was a beautiful woman who loved her family more than herself.

That was what ruined her.

“Hermana, hermana,” Magdalene spoke, tugging on the sleeve of your shirt. You looked down just as you turned off the stove, and she rubbed her stomach, “I’m hungry.”

“Okay hermanita, ask the boys if they’re hungry, please,” you replied, smiling at her. She nodded and ran to their bedrooms, and soon they all emerged from around the corner.

After scooping generous amounts of macaroni and cheese onto their plates, you put some onto your plate and sat down with your siblings to eat. Together, you all talked about your busy days and they listened to you tell them all about your training. They loved hearing your stories about Barça, and every time, Magdalene and Dani would ask you to continue your stories until they fell asleep.

Tonight was no different as you tiptoed out of the twins’ bedroom, gently shutting the door behind you. As much as you loved sleeping after a long day, part of you also dreaded it, because it meant starting a new day and facing Alexia.

When you woke up, it was to gentle knocking on your bedroom door. You were awake enough to comprehend the quiet pattering of footsteps across your hardwood floors, and when tiny hands grazed your skin, you jolted awake. “Hermana, time to wake up! School time!” Magdalene chimed.

So your morning routine began.

With one sock and half your jacket over your head, you made three lunches for the kids right after making their breakfast. Your mother slowly slumped out of her bedroom, wrapping her robe tight around her.

“Bon día,” she mumbled, a smile on her face. With a glance over your shoulder, you acknowledged her before going back to slicing two oranges.

“Morning, mamá,” your siblings responded quietly, shoving food into their mouths to avoid speaking any further. She sat on the couch, sighing deeply.

As she walked past you, you could immediately recognise the stench of alcohol — no surprises there. Years ago, she would’ve smelled like warm musky perfume, not the pungent smell of chemicals.

“Can you make me something, hija? ‘M very hungry,” she said to you, looking your way. You kept your head down, sealing the lunchboxes and cleaning up the counter.

“No, ma, I have things to do. Make your own breakfast,” you responded coldly, “Hermanita, pequeños, bring your dishes here.”

Your siblings scrambled from the table with their empty plates, giving them a quick wash before retreating to their rooms to get their uniform on. On the couch, your mother was still begging for food.

“Hija.. I’m hungry,” the woman slurred.

“Mamá, I have to get your kids to school and go to my own job, which my captain is already angry at me for being late because I have to drive them all around Barna,” you hissed.

“Then I have to come home and make dinner after cleaning your mess. You can make your own breakfast, for once!”

You always felt bad for yelling at your mum, but your life was hard enough with trying to get to work and drop off your three siblings in time while worrying about making your mum a meal.

You had a chance at life. You had a chance to succeed, and you weren’t going to waste it. You weren’t going to rely on a man to look after you in the future until he turns around and wants to look after another woman, leaving you damned.

“Bye, mamá,” you grumbled, grabbing your keys from the bench and swooping your boot bag up from the floor.

It was Dani’s turn to pick which song to play on the radio on the drive to school. He chose a very popular song within your siblings; ‘Me Gustas Tu’. The song had been broadcasted on the radio one day, and everyone seemed to love it. Their favourite part of car rides to school was winding the windows down and singing as loud as they’d like.

Somehow, amongst your father leaving and your mother’s new habits, your siblings were always happy, and that’s what you admired most about them. Maybe they were unaware of the harsh reality, but they were still naïve and unscathed by everything that happened.

It was almost 9:30 in the morning when you started making your way to the training pitch. Mentally, you were preparing yourself for the big lecture you were about to get from Alexia and seriously didn’t need, but physically, you looked unbothered if not a bit tense in the shoulders.

You almost tripped on your way out of the car as you rushed around to get your gear. Walking into training everyday just to get yelled at by Alexia was never nice, but you were used to it. Unfortunately.

That wasn’t the sort of relationship a captain should have with one of her players. It was almost like she despised you, and if she had her way, you probably would’ve been off the team within the first week.

Sure enough, when you appeared on the pitch, the first thing you heard was the low whispers beside you.

“…She’s irresponsible and doesn’t belong on the first team. Being late once, I understand, but multiple times? Her excuses are not good enough–”

“Excuses? Ale, you’ve never let her explain herself.”

“There shouldn’t be any need for excuses anyways, because she shouldn’t be late at all. If she wants to take her time and be let off easy like a child, send her back to the B team. Look, she isn’t even here yet.”

“She is, though. Look behind you.”

The woman turned around, her glare settling on you and being as cold as ever. She spun her whole body around and folded her arms across her chest, her frown heavy.

You sighed, looking down to your feet. It made you feel even worse that you couldn’t help it, and you couldn’t explain it to her either, because that action had potential to get your siblings taken away.

“Drop your bag, get comfortable. You’re not training today,” she snapped.

Your heart sunk. You fought to fend off any tears from forming on your waterline as you nodded, raising your head slightly.

“Listen, (Y/N). This team is everything to me. I have lots of respect for the people who coach us and come here to be coached. You, showing up late? That shows a lack of respect for those people. You’re lazy, unorganised, irresponsible–”

Irresponsible was untrue. If anything, you were the most responsible person you’ve ever known, but Alexia didn’t know that because she didn’t care to know you.

“…I can’t expect you to represent our club and our city on big stages if you can’t even come to training on time. You aren’t FC Barcelona material, and unless things change, you never will be.”

Your lip quivered as your body aligned to bolt for the locker room as soon as she left you alone, away from the watchful eyes that surveyed you in pity when had you arrived. Alexia turned on her heel and stormed away past Mapi, whom she was talking to previously.

She left you in her wake, crestfallen and misunderstood, defeated by circumstances beyond your control.

[lyssaluvs]

Just Play the Part

(Luke Castellan x Fem!Dionysus!Reader)

Summary: A makeover from Silena and the Aphrodite girls gives you the confidence boost you need.

A/N: this took me so bloody long it's borderline embarrassing. also luke is so out of character it almost makes me sick but whatever. god this is so short, i'm so sorry.

Warnings: Use of Y/n, reader is described to have curly hair but that's about it.

Children of Dionysus are rare, daughters even more so. As a matter of fact, you were the only one. To your knowledge… Before you came to Camp Half-Blood, you were an only child, and when you arrived, you suddenly had a much larger family that you did before. A father, brothers, it was fantastic, it felt amazing to have the family you had always dreamed of. However, with a somewhat absent mother, apparently no sisters, and not a whole lot of friends, let alone female ones, you had had little to no feminine influence in your life. This resulted in you becoming a bit of a tom-boy. It’s not that you didn’t want to embrace your femininity, you just didn’t know how.

“Oh goodness, those curls are a mess.”

“That outfit certainly isn’t doing her any favours.”

You heard the whispers as you walked past the small group of Aphrodite girls. As a child of Dionysus, you had quite a talent for theatrics, as well as being prone to sarcastic remarks, so you just couldn’t help but snap back.

“Can I help you?” You asked the group of girls, hands on your hips with your brows furrowed.

“Actually, we were wondering if we could help you…”

---

You now found yourself sat in a surprisingly comfortable barber-style chair in the bathroom of the Aphrodite cabin.

“Sorry I got defensive; I’m not really used to talking to girls much.” You apologise to Silena once again. 

“Stop apologising! We love having a new girl to give makeovers to. And who knows, maybe this will give you the confidence boost you need to finally talk to Luke, since he’s obviously too shy to talk to you first.”

You cast your gaze downward as a warmth spread across your cheeks.

“Don’t worry, you’re not that obvious. I just have a knack for these kinds of things, comes with being an Aphrodite kid. Luke, however, is about as subtle a sledgehammer. Please don’t tell me you haven’t noticed.” She paused combing your hair to look you in the eye.

You just shrugged.

“The lingering touches when he corrects your stances, yearning stares…” She awaited your reaction and when she was met with a befuddled expression, she continued.

“Oh my god, you’re oblivious. Here’s what you’re going to do. Once we’re done here, you’re going to walk right up to him, and ask him out. There’s no way he’ll say no, so don’t try that excuse. And I’ve seen you on stage, you can certainly play an outgoing character, so if you’re going to use the shy excuse, I’ll tell you to just pretend you’re on stage.”

---

It had been almost two hours and your makeover was finally over. Your curls were healthier than ever, your nails were painted, light makeup had been applied, and you had never felt more beautiful. You looked at your outfit in the mirror, taking note of the way the new flare jeans were much more flattering than your previous daggy cargos, and your camp tee now a size smaller and no longer drowning you.

“You’re lucky orange suits you, now go get your man!” Silena pushed you out the door, giving your butt a playful smack on the way out.

---

Feeling more confident than ever you approached Luke while he was practicing his swordsmanship in front of the setting sun, alone, as he usually was at this time of day.

“Luke”

The brunette boy turned around so swiftly he almost lost his footing. He looked you up and down and swallowed heavily.

“Y/n, you look ama- “

“Do you want to go out with me?” The words shot out of your mouth before you could stop them. Regardless of Silena’s reassurance, if he did end up rejecting you, you wanted to get it over and done with as soon as possible.

His jaw dropped and he looked as though he wanted to say something, but his voice wouldn’t cooperate.  The two of you stood in silence for a few moments as you waited for an answer.

“It’s fine if you don’t. I’ll just go.” You began to turn around.

“YES! Sorry, yes, I want to go out with you. Please. I really want to go out with you.”

It seemed his voice had finally caught up with his mind.

Hmm… He’s cute when he rambles…

@elz-zalarrr this one's for you!

credit to @cafekitsune for the divider!

[shallyouobeyme]

From the Outside

Part 1 (you're here) | Part 2 (Coming soon)

Platonic!Yandere Batfam x Neglected Batsib!reader (GN)

Summary: You were living your life as a stranger in the house you were supposed to call home, an outsider in a group of people who were supposed to be your family. So you do your best to keep yourself distracted from your situation and go on with your life. But just how long will you be able to keep on with that?

! Minors Do Not Interact !

Requested by @sol565

TW: Not much in this one, neglect (obviously), loss of relatives, car crash (mentioned), cancer (mentioned), swearing, coming up to Yandereness in the next chapters. I'll try to proofread and edit once I finish the whole thing.

Last night you dreamed of your family again. It was a pleasant dream, one that had you wishing to keep on dreaming even after you were woken up by your alarm. All of you were sitting at the dinner table, enjoying Alfred’s excellent cooking. The room was filled with happiness and joy, the kind of atmosphere that has you reminiscing about that day for ages. In your dream you felt so weightless, Damian was sitting opposite you as he listened to you talk about your day, an anecdote of you leading to laughter filling the room. Your mother ruffled your hair from where she was sitting beside you and as you smiled up to her you felt filled with love. Around the table, the Waynes were actively interested in the conversation and Bruce was asking you a question leading to a cheeky comment from your left side. You knew what was said, but you couldn’t understand the voice. Confused you looked to where your father should be sitting but only a distorted shadow figure looked back at you. 

It opened whatever would be most akin to a mouth and a blaring sound echoed out of it. Your eyes flew open as you slapped your bedside table to grab your phone. 7 A.M, time to get up. This dream had been haunting you for a few weeks now, the idyllic family dinner turning into an unpleasant reminder of your situation. At first, you had woken up in a cold sweat and slightly fearful from the end, but by now you had grown very accustomed to it. Just another part of your day to get through. 

You accepted to pay the mental price for the opportunity to see your mother again, if only during the nights. 

Another look at your phone to check the notifications and you got up and got dressed. Given the time you knew that you still had enough time to join your adopted siblings for breakfast, but even Alfred's amazing pancakes and french toast could to move you into the kitchen. Deciding to just nap something from your friends during lunch break at school, you grabbed your bag and jacket before quickly making your way through the manor. Like almost every morning you silently prayed that you wouldn’t come across anyone on your way to the front door. Eighty per cent of the time you were lucky, fifteen per cent you were just ignored and the other five per cent you found yourself stuck in painfully awkward small talk with the people who lived on the same floor as you. People who were supposed to be your closest friends and confidants. People who weren’t that. People who were more akin to strangers.

Today you were in luck as you managed to slip out of the giant house you hated to call home without having to talk to anyone. Getting onto your scooter, you made your way to the school, enjoying the air in your face through the helmet and the feeling of freedom that only came to you on rare occasions. 

The school was still fairly empty when you arrived - as was expected - so you had the honour of walking through the empty halls like you owned the place. A sentiment that some of your schoolmates even believed. You wanted to tell them that you had no need for your Guardians money, no interest in his family’s name or his family’s reputation. Bitter thoughts filled your mind, leaving a taste of anger, of disappointment, of anguish on your tongue. They weren’t helped by what you saw when you stopped in front of the trophy showcase. There were pictures of some of the best former student-athletes that had attended the school, and the most recognizable was a picture that was proudly displayed right on eyesight. It was at a sporting event that had happened some twenty to thirty years earlier, one that was still held bi-annually. The winners of different disciplines were smiling proudly into the camera, arms around each other. 

Taking the spotlight was a man that every proud Gothamite would recognize as a young Bruce Wayne on one side, a different boy who people tended to overlook based on his less noticeable features and the lack of fame he had, and in the middle of both of them stood Bruce’s former best friend. Your mother. Your late mother. 

She had been a beautiful, stunning, talented woman. Everyone who had ever known her told you that. You tried to take some solace in the fact that they told you how alike the two of you were, both in looks and in personality. It did nothing to quell the underlying pain though, the pain still boiling inside you, pain that over the years had turned into anger. You weren’t angry with your mother, of course, you knew that she had not chosen to fall sick, that she had not chosen to succumb to cancer. She had loved you with all her heart and only ever wanted you to be happy. This is why, when your grandparents died in a shooting shortly after her diagnosis, she put it in her will that after her passing you were to be taken care of by her lifelong friend Bruce Wayne. After all, he already had kids and he was rich, just like she and her parents had been - money and estates that now waited on you to turn 18 to take charge of - and he’d be surely able to give you the life and the love she always wanted you to have. 

Sadly, your mother had not known Bruce quite as well as she had believed she did. She had no idea that he spent his nights as the infamous Batman, or that the kids he adopted had been turned into fighting machines - sometimes even killers. She had no idea that he was not the amazing, loving and attentive father figure she had wanted you to have. Not even close. 

You suppose he had tried at one point. When you were a young child, grieving the loss of your entire family and everything that you had known, he had taken you in like one of his own and assured you that from then on he’d protect you. Back then you had believed him. After all, your mother had told you so many great things about him, why should she lie. And with elder brothers and sisters, a Butler who made sure you had your favourite foods whenever you felt sad and a man who tried his best to be the father you never had. They did lots of work to spend time with you and to pay attention to you which would ensure you wouldn’t notice their weird habits and absences. But of course that couldn’t work forever. After a few months, you found out about their best (and somehow at the same time worst) kept secret and as you walked through the Batcave by Bruce’s side everything changed. He didn’t directly offer to train you, but he did insinuate that it was an option, though you declined. You couldn’t see yourself hurting others. You wanted to help like your mom had helped, by volunteering, bettering the world peacefully. Bruce had assured you that that was a completely acceptable decision and that it wouldn’t change anything. But he had lied. Perhaps knowingly, perhaps not. Maybe some of both. 

Once you were aware of their second life, they didn’t put in the effort to pay enough attention to you to make you unaware of their secret. At first, they still spent time with you, but over time it seemed like you were blending into obscurity like a special bottle of champagne that was planned to be open on a special occasion only. Just that the bottle was usually remembered after the occasion had passed in annoyance. You weren’t. And as you phased out of their minds and into oblivion, you made peace with your place in the family. An outsider, a stranger inside their house, just waiting until the time had come for you to finally live your own life. 

Of course, you knew you could have it worse. You had enough money to fulfil every wish you had as long as it was material, always had something to wear, something to eat, and somewhere to sleep. The only thing you didn’t have was love. But especially in Gotham you knew that you got away rather luckily with that, so while you were deeply angry towards the people who had promised to treat you like family, to love you, you also tried to just get on with your life. 

It would have been easier if it wasn’t just so hard to look at your so-called siblings as if you didn’t resent them for the way they treated you, compared to one another. Somehow showing any interest in you or attempting to spend any time with you was a chore, but somehow Jason and Cass could have a little book club, Jason and Dick could go out for lunch at a cat-cafe, Steph, Cass and Tim could have Spa-days and all of them could have an occasional movie night together. It wasn’t explicitly stated that you weren’t welcome, but you had seen how they acted when you were with them compared to how they acted when you were hiding behind the door listening in. They seemed so much happier without you. As if your mere presence ruined the mood. So you started rejecting their invitations to join and it only took one of two attempts of them to stop asking completely. 

You might have been able to cope better with the obvious dismissal of your existence if it had been because you hadn’t been part of the family when they had forged their close bond, but somehow, even when Damian joined, acting like a complete asshole to everyone around him, they managed to include him and when he warmed up to them he joined their close group. 

So your newness surely could not have been that big of an issue right? Even Damian, completely new to the family and surely aggressive towards all of his pseudo siblings, seemed to know you were less than the others since he didn’t even bother to insult you, instead opting to ignore you. Completely. A glance spared, looking you up and down, and he had decided you were not worth it and his opinion seemingly still hadn’t changed. Sure by now you had talked with him a few times, but you could say the same about the fucking mayor of Gotham so you were sure that did not really count. 

Sometimes, you lay in your bed at night, wide awake, wondering just why you were worth so much less in their eyes. What you had done wrong. Two answers usually presented themselves before you. Either it was because you weren’t a vigilante, something that you might even have been willing to accept, or it was… you. Just you. And for some reason, that was the answer that seemed more plausible to you. Maybe you were just unpleasant to be around, not fitting enough for their family. Not interesting enough, not Wayne enough. 

And so you were cursed to live your life like a ghost in what is supposed to be your home. Going in and out every day, just waiting for the day to come when you could move into the penthouse your grandparents had bought you before they died, which would become your legal property in just a few years. You’d start anew. Maybe one day, after a long time and probably a lot of therapy, you’ll be able to start your own family. One that you’d promise not to fuck up like Bruce had. Until then though, you’d go on like always, spend as little time in that Manor as possible and try to distract yourself from your reality. 

You really did spend very little time at the manor. For one, no one in that house cared when you left or when you came back except maybe Alfred, but even he either knew that you could properly use the freedom or he was too busy to care. Probably a mix of both. And along with that, you had started a very active life outside of your family. You had a lot of friends, though you were not ready to call any of them close friends, always knowing about how many of them were after the publicity of your actual and current family name and the money and fame connected to it. But they were nice enough and they distracted you so you didn’t mind. Especially because you used said popularity to help the people in town. You managed to get a lot of your friends to volunteer alongside you in different homeless shelters, though a lot of them tended to post dozens of pictures which made you feel a bit icky about them trying to profit from helping others, but you knew you couldn’t complain because it did help the shelters. The shelters told you so themselves. 

Most of your ‘pocket money’ was donated and the rest of the time was spent doing different activities, be it arts, sports, parties or just wasting the day away. You did your best to cram as much into your day-to-day life as you could to keep you from thinking too much. To stop you from thinking too much about how messed up you were now, how you couldn’t even confide in any of your friends, how you didn’t even really manage to call them your friends, because you couldn’t allow yourself to let anyone close to you anymore, because you knew you weren’t worth it, because you knew you’d be disappointed and hurt again. 

These dark thoughts were kept inside, slowly eating at you like termites, while on the outside you kept on being the happy-go-lucky Gotham personality that people loved to follow. Though you didn’t post a lot on your own social media, your friends and people around you did, which the public loved for some reason. And so you kept up the act, because what else could you do? Let people know you’re hurting? So they could ridicule you for your rich people's problems? Or keep out of the public eye? And have to face the lonely darkness that was your life? No, you’d rather keep on pretending like you had been for years now. Even if it meant being a piece of entertainment for other people who could turn on you at any second. 

The day at school was mostly uneventful, only a short moment of passing by Damian ruined your mood as your classmates did their usual shtick of asking if that wasn’t your brother and you trying to shrug them off, after all, how do you explain that your brother treated you like air not worth breathing? So you changed the topic by announcing that you’d go help out at a local shelter after school and asked if anyone wanted to join. Some excused themselves but a few agreed, which led to a group of five of you coming into the shelter a few hours later after some mandatory selfies so keep your friends placated. There was a bit more traffic inside than usual - a few people definitely not in need of help - which was probably because one of your friends posted your plans on their socials. That was something that you had to begrudgingly accept. You couldn’t afford their anger, so you made a compromise with them that they could post stuff like that, but that they couldn’t post the exact location (which in your opinion was just common sense, but it seemed not a lot of people shared that).

Ignoring the people only there to see you or be near a Wayne, you focused on helping those who needed your help, though aware of the effect you could have on the shelter business, you helped out in the kitchen where people couldn’t see you. You didn’t mind, you liked cooking and you and the fellow kitchen staff had a sort of harmonized rhythm. It even helped you get lost in thoughts that didn’t make you wanna cry, so when you got interrupted in your flow, you almost jumped in shock. One of the organizers had tapped on your shoulder. 

“Y/N, there’s a man outside that wants to talk to you,” Marcus told you and nodded towards the door to the front.

“They still haven’t left? I’m really sorry Marc, if you think it’s better if I leave, then I will,” you sighed, annoyed by the turn of events. 

“No, it’s not a fan. At least I think, he’s- well, he claims to have something really important to talk to you about. He gave me this to show to you, said it’ll show you he’s serious,” Marcus shrugged and held a picture out to you. It was an old Polaroid of a young couple smiling into the camera. Your breath hitched. 

“Is he the guy in the picture?” you asked with a newly found seriousness.

“Yes, at least he looks like it. Is the woman-”

“Yeah, could we use the office? Only if you’re okay with it, of course.”

“Sure, no problem, go ahead, I’ll bring him to you in a minute.”

“Thank you,” you earnestly smiled at Marcus as you made your way to the door that led to the office. You were used to being nervous, but not quite as nervous as you were then. This could change a lot of things, everything if it was what you imagined it to be. You looked at the picture in your hand again before sitting down behind the desk and putting it down on the desk. There were steps behind the door coming closer, so you took a deep breath as you wiped your hands on your pant legs. The door opened and in came a man who looked just like the guy from the Polaroid. He seemed familiar, not just from that snapshot of the past, but something in his face rang a bell in your memories. You mustered him, trying to keep a stern exterior as you didn’t know if this was going to be what you thought it would be. 

Marcus gestured the man to sit down on the other side of the desk, before giving you an encouraging nod and closing the door as he left. 

“Hello,” you greeted the man, hands intertwined before you on the desk.

“Hello,” he responded alike and you could feel his curiosity burning through you. Had you misinterpreted this? Was this just another weird fan?

“This picture,” you looked at it again before sliding it towards him, “how do you know my mom?”

A/N: So, what do y'all think? Let me know in the comments or in my inbox ❤️ Also, I'd appreciate feedback on the title as well, not sure if I should change it or keep it.

[thebestsetter]

Leo Valdez is kinda obsessed with you.

Like, really. Even before you two began dating. Actually, especially before you two started dating.

Here's the thing: Leo was used to getting rejected by lots of girls, overlooked by everyone and feeling like he was not and would never be good enough. So, when someone - you - treated him with minimal decency, he was absolutely and undeniably hooked.

Your smile, your laugh, your touch, and everything about you made him feel all warm inside (even if he's already literally warm - but you know what I mean). And yet, he couldn't find the strength to confess to you, even if his feelings were eating him from the inside out.

It's just that - he felt like didn't deserve you. You deserved someone much better than little old him, and that's why he never made any advances besides the rare playful flirting (that only happened when he was feeling VERY brave).

But, one day, he decided enough was enough. He couldn't take it anymore: just watching you and knowing you're not his. Just thinking about you with another person made his stomach churn and his mouth feel dry.

He needed to find a way to win you over. He REALLY needed to. For both him AND for his friends, since they couldn't handle him talking about you all the time anymore.

But he couldn't just go and talk to you. Oh no, no. He needed it go perfectly. That's why he needed to practice.

"I love you, bad boy Leo!"

"No, you're not supposed to say that yet! I can't believe I messed up. Now, which wire do I need to unplug..."

It was a really funny scene, honestly. Just picture it: Leo freaking Valdez, one of the seven demigods from the prophecy, a guy who literally defied nature's order and came back from the dead, inside of bunker 9, talking to a robot who had a certain female demigod's voice and face stuck by tape to it's robotic "face".

"Okay, it should be all fixed now!" He smiled, clapping his hands to clean them a little "Let's try again. Caham!" He cleaned his throat and turned away from the machine.

Leo patted his shirt, passed his hands through his hair, fixed his imaginary tie and smelt his breath. When he deemed all was perfect, he turned back to the robot.

"Hello, mi Vida! How are you? Bet you're better now that I'm here"

"Yes, Leo! I'm much better now that you're here!" The robotic voice answered, using the pre-progamed speech

"Well, I need to talk to you about something very important" he grabbed the robot's hands, squeezing them while staring intently at your printed face

"Sure, Leo! I wanna talk to you all day!"

"Thank you for the compliment, Hermosa!" He smirked, and then started to get closer to the robot's face "I needed a lot of courage to actually talk to you. You know, you're an amazing person - the most amazing I've ever seen -, and I realized I fell for you because of that. I really, really like you. You're strong as heck, smart, funny, beautiful and, if I'm being honest, WAY out of my league. I know I'm probably too bad for you, but please give me a chance. I love you! Do you love me back?"

He waited a little. If he programmed this machine right (and he was sure he had. It was one of the most difficult - yet important - machine he had made in a long time), you - and by you, I mean the machine - were supposed to say...

"Hm. I'll think about it. You're kinda strange, you know? Talking to a robot and pretending it's me. But you're also cute, so I'll give it a shot"

"What the heck? It wasn't supposed to say that!" He muttered, confused, looking at the machine

"Hey! Don't call robot me an "it"! She's a "she", thank you very much!"

He was hallucinating. He probably was mentally ill or something. He hoped he was, at least. Because there was no way he just heard your voice. And not the robotic voice - your voice. That unmistakable sound, the one who appeared in his dreams and nightmares.

He didn't want to turn around. He didn't want to face you.

"H-how..." he asked, his hands forming little flames and face red "How much did you hear?"

"Since the very beggining" you laughed, and he could hear you getting closer - yet he still didn't want to turn around. "I didn't expect to see you talking to a robot version of me when Percy asked me to come bring you lunch"

He was going to kill Percy Jackson.

"Can't say I didn't like it, tho"

Huh. Maybe Jackson deserved to live another day.

"Really?"

"Really. I like you, Valdez. Ever since you gave me that tour on my first day here."

He finally - finally - turned to face you. His eyes drank in you - all of you. From your beautiful locks to your scrapped knees to your face. The shine in your eyes was something no printer could ever replicate.

"Really?" At that moment, he was the one who looked like a broken machine, repeating the same thing over and over - but he was still NOT believing this. He couldn't believe you actually liked him back. Him, the guy who talks to machines as though their living beings.

"Really" you laughed, the sound bringing a smile to his lips, as you got closer and closer till your hands were in his and he could literally smell your perfume "Let's give this a shot, Repair Boy"

Oh boy. You just broke him. Guess there's some things not even Repair Boy is capable of fixing, after all. His enourmous crush on you being one of them.

~ A/N: first pjo fic!! How are we feeling guys? 😋

[fairytaleendingss]

Hey lovely, first, I just want to say I love your work so much. I wanted to request a poly Marauders fic with a female reader who's struggling with schoolwork and is overall feeling depressed. She starts to isolate herself from everyone, her grades drop, and she stops taking good care of herself. I understand this is a heavier topic, but I've been stuck in a slump and would love an angst/comfort fic. Either way, thank you!

Thanks for the request! Generally, I don't mind writing about heavier topics so don't be afraid to ask (hurt/comfort is my favourite thing to write tbh). I'm sorry you're not doing well but I hope this makes you feel a little better.

Summary: The boys comfort you when you've been struggling with your school load.

Pairing: Poly!Marauder x fem!reader

CW: Angst, reader not taking care of herself, poor mental health.

—

It was getting dark outside, you noticed, glancing out the window of the library. Silver stars had began to twinkle in the inky black sky and the moon, in it's waning phase was hanging just outside of window, casting gentle rays off light over the table before you.

You didn't know how long you'd been there but from the looks of things, it'd been a while. It had been mid-afternoon when you'd decided to venture into the library for a study session.

Now it was late, it seemed, and your half-written essay sat before you, staring into your soul like it was mocking you. You rubbed your eyes, in an attempt to clear your blurring vision.

You'd been working on this essay for what seemed like days but for some reason, you just couldn't make it work. This was your fourth re-write and you still weren't satisfied. You resigned yourself to the idea that you may have to pull yet another all-nighter tonight if you were going to get it ready for submission in a few days.

It had been like this for weeks. A constant cycle of submitting essays and starting new ones, in preparation for your upcoming NEWTs. It was becoming overwhelming. The work was piling up and this point you were struggling to see the finish line. It felt as though no matter how hard you tried, you just couldn't manage to keep up and it was killing you.

You'd barely had time to sleep over the last few weeks and when you did, it was full of horrid dreams of missing due dates and failing exams. You we're completely drained of energy, engulfed by stress and had barely had time to take care of yourself amongst the hours of exam prep you'd put yourself through. Your friends had started to notice it too, the way you'd withdrawn yourself. You'd begun to pull out of group events and stop engaging with conversations on the rare occasions when you did find time to spend with them.

And the worst part of it all is that you'd had to blow of your amazing boyfriends more times than you could count. You were sure it was starting to take a toll on them as well but you were too embarrassed to tell them about what was going on. They were all so naturally smart and got good grades without barely having to try (apart from Remus, of course, who studied like his life depended on it.)

So instead of opening up to them about your struggles and your concerns, you'd taken to avoiding them where you could, which was only proving to fill you with guilt on top of everything else.

You noticed a splash of water drop onto the parchment in front of you but you were quick to wipe it away. You had to remain focused.

You didn't know how much time had passed when you heard the gentle pitter patter of footsteps across the stone floor. You looked up to see the one and only James Potter, eyes scanning the space, clearly in search of something.

You raised a brow at the sight. You weren't quite sure what he was doing here. James rarely entered the library of his own volition. You wondered for a moment if he had gotten lost.

Then his gaze landed on you and his face lit up like a Christmas tree. He jogged over to you, placing a soft, lingering kiss on your cheek. Then he crouched down beside where your form was slumped over the desk.

"Hey there, lovely. We've been looking for you everywhere. You missed dinner."

He was looking into your eyes with such affection that they once again, welled with tears. He looked beautiful in the low light of the library. His dark curls were disheveled as usual, flopping down into his eyes, and he was wearing his signature lopsided smile, the one that usually never failed to cause butterflies to flutter in your stomach. However, in this moment in just caused a wave a guilt to wash over you. You didn't deserve him. You didn't deserve any of your wonderful boyfriends.

Sensing your distress, a crease of concern formed between James' eyebrows. He reached out a hand to every so gently brush a stand of hair behind your ear, his thumb hovering for a moment, rubbing small circles in your cheek.

"What's wrong sweetheart?"

"I'm sorry I missed dinner," you pouted, trying to keep your tears at bay. "I didn't mean stand you up again."

"That's okay, love," James chuckled sympathetically. "We're just worried about you is all."

Your bottom lip wobbled at that. You knew you'd been slack in your efforts with the boys recently and it hurt your heart to make them upset like this.

"Oh darling, come 'ere." he tugged you towards him, pulling you into his chest and wrapping his muscular arms around your shaking frame.

This is when the floodgates opened and you found yourself sobbing into the front of James' shirt. You gripped the fabric for dear life as he held you, not taking any notice of the wet patch you were creating on his front. He whispered soft reassurances in your hair, rubbing your back gently and you finally let the emotions wash over you.

Eventually your tears began to slow and you pulled away, sniffling pathetically. You looked into James' hazel eyes, which were now clouded with concern.

He opened his mouth to say something more but you were interrupted by the sound of hurried footsteps rushing towards the two of you.

"Prongs?" Sirius voice echoed out through the Library. "Are you in here?"

"Yeah, I found her," he called back.

A moment later, the figures of your other two boyfriends peered around a bookcase. The relief melted from their expressions when they took in the sight of year tear stained cheeks.

"Sweetheart, what's wrong?" Sirius rushed towards you and James moved aside to let him take a closer look at you.

"Did someone hurt you? I'll kill them."

This elicited a chuckle from you as you wiped your eyes with a shaky hand.

"No Sirius, I'm okay. You don't have to fight anyone."

"Well thank god for that," Remus sighed teasingly. "We wouldn't want anyone messing up that pretty face of yours, would we?"

Sirius took on a look of mock offense. "How dare you! They wouldn't have time to get a lick in if they hurt our girl."

"Well, luckily you don't have to worry about fighting any imaginary people just yet," you giggled.

Remus took a seat at your other side, happy to see Sirius was able to make you smile. He hadn't caught many of those as of late. As he sat down at the table, he noticed your unfinished essay.

"Darling, tell us what's got you so upset?" he pressed.

You took a deep breath. "I've just been so overwhelmed lately. I just feel like I can't keep up and the work just keeps piling up. I don't know if I can do it anymore."

"Oh, love," Sirius cooed, a deep frown gracing his delicate features. "Why didn't you tell us."

"I don't know. You guys are so good at school. I was just embarrassed I suppose."

Remus reached out a gentle hand to rub your back. "You never have to be embarrassed around us, lovely. We just want to help you. We can't do that if we don't know what's going on."

"I'm sorry," you mumbled pathetically. You felt a bit silly now for ever thinking they'd judge you.

"It's okay, sweets," James muttered. "We'll always be here for you if you need us. No matter what, alright?"

"Yeah," Sirius added. "Even if it means I have to fight someone."

You chuckled, shaking your head.

"There's that gorgeous smile of yours," he exclaimed and placed a gentle kiss to your lips.

"Now, what can we do to help?" Remus asked gently. He had this kind, nurturing aura about him that always had a way of putting you at ease.

You sighed, mentally assessing your list of tasks. "I need to finish this essay but I just can't seem to get to the end."

"It sounds to me like what you need, love, is a good nights sleep. You need to take care of yourself before anything else." He suggested, looking at you sweetly.

"Maybe you're right," you relented. Remus always was the wise one of the group.

"Come on!" Sirius exclaimed. "Lets get you up to bed. James can sneak down to the kitchen and grab you some food and then Remus can help you with your work in the morning. How does that sound?"

He helped you up from your chair and James swung your bookbag over his shoulder.

"That sounds nice," you told him earnestly.

Sirius tucked you under his arm while Remus gently grabbed your other hand in his and you began to make your way towards the tower.

"I have one more thing to ask though," you announced as you made your way through the castle halls.

"Anything," Remus answered, pressing a kiss to the side of your head.

"When we get back to the dorm, do you think we can cuddle for a bit?"

James turned around to face you from where he was walking ahead, a goofy smile plastered on his face.

"Darling, you never have to ask for that."

[asunsetgrace16]

Johnny Gaudreau: A Tribute

Johnny Gaudreau was born in Salem, New Jersey.

He was drafted by the Calgary Flames 104th overall in the 4th round of the 2011 NHL Entry Draft. He played hockey for Boston College for 3 seasons, from 2011-2014. He won the National Chapionship title in 2011, and the Hobey Baker Memorial Award as college hockey's best player in 2014.

Johnny spent 9 seasons with the Calgary Flames and 2 with the Columbus Blue Jackets. During his first full season with Calgary, he was selected to go to the 2015 All Star Game and was a Calder Memorial Trophy, and won the Lady Byng Memorial Trophy as the NHL's most gentlemanly player in 2017. He was a 7-time NHL All Star through his career. Johnny was known as "Johnny Hockey" and had incredible skill and success on the ice, despite his size. He played for the Columbus Blue Jackets for the past two seasons and quickly became a favourite.

This is a tribute to our beloved player, may Johnny and Matthew forever rest in peace.

For Johnny...

from me

I am forever going to be sad over losing Johnny, but I am also angry. Two amazing people would still be here if that driver simply decided not to get behind the wheel yesterday night. I wasn't a hockey fan when he was still playing for the Flames, but he was one of four players I knew. He always made me smile when he was shown on camera, and his memory will live on forever in Calgary. His positivity and kindness, his electric game. Johnny was so much more than a hockey player. He was a husband, a father. A son, a brother, a friend, a teammate. My heart and prayers go to his wife and children, parents, sisters, and family. And please, please, take time to grieve. Take time to remember Johnny and what he meant to you, and to the game. Rest in peace, Johnny Hockey, fly high.

I believe that it is a testament to a person's character that when tragedy strikes, there are hundreds or thousands of people mourning for them, regardless of whether they knew each other or not. That is what Johnny has done for the hockey community. His infectious excitement and passion has moved people in ways he probably never imagined. We may never hear Johnny Hockey echo through an arena in celebration of a goal, but we will hear it in celebration of his life, of his game. We will keep his legacy alive. Forever.

Here's to #13

from @chukys-mouthguard

Johnny was never mentioned on my blog prior to this news. And while I know I don’t need to explain or justify my sudden sadness, I’d just like to reiterate this point above. We don’t have to post about someone or obsess over them online to love them. Johnny was never a player I would’ve written fanfiction about or shared unhinged thoughts. I’d loved him and admired him from my time playing hockey, and he was unlike anyone else. I frequently explained that compared to all the other players I love or “obsess” over, Johnny is in a league of his own. The sheer love and admiration I had for what an amazing hockey player, but an even more amazing person he was is something I can’t put into words. Rarely do athletes or celebrities have an impact on me, but Johnny did. The idea that I won’t get to see him take the ice again in Nationwide Arena, I don’t get to hear commentators call him Johnny Hockey anymore, and most importantly the fact that this heartbreaking tragedy is undoubtedly sending shockwaves through a family that was looking forward to a weekend of celebration of love and togetherness at their sister’s wedding. It all hurts. And there are no words right now. I want to blink my eyes and have someone tell me I’m dreaming. My own mother called me on my way to work to tell me the news because she didn’t want me to find out through social media, that’s the impact this man had on me and I’m sure so many fans across the hockey community. My sister even reached out to make sure I was okay. So yeah, people can say “they are just an athlete” or “why are you so upset over someone you don’t know?” And I respect people having those opinions, but when players truly make a mark on the sport and the fans, it resonates with you. Because you feel like you know them, like they invite you into their world and give you a chance to look at them in new ways. My thoughts are with the entire hockey community that knew johnny, and most importantly his family as they endure this terrible loss of Johnny and Matthew 💔

johnny gaudreau has been my favorite nhl player since his college days, and I have no words right now. I have multiple jerseys of his, signed memorabilia, but I sadly never got to meet him and tell him how much i loved him as a person and a player. My love for him, if you know me offline, s was unmatched compared to any other player I obsess over online. This world is so cruel and I’m heartbroken. I’m so thankful to have seen him play on multiple occasions, but blue jackets games will not be the same without his #13 on the ice 💔😞

from @perfectlysaltycat32

I just want to say the passing of Johnny and Matty Gaudreau is such a sad and unfortunate moment. Every time I looked through social media and saw more snippets of what happened and how he is remembered it just gets so much more sadder. It's really tragic how this happened *the day before* their sisters wedding. A time where the whole family is sharing one of their happiest moments, and now it's going to be a time of grief. I think it is absolutely gorgeous how all the Calgary fans came together in memory of them with their memorial. They are truly loved everywhere in the hockey community. I hope that every player has access to good therapy and counseling because this is such a rough way to start the season, but I am glad with how positive all of their friends, family, and teammates are. It really just once again shows how loved both of them are. They had a great life, were amazing people, and it deserved to be longer. But now they can watch over their families, teammates, and friends. I'm sending my condolences to everyone affected. Johnny was an amazing father, husband, son, brother, friend, captain, and teammate. He is and always will be Johnny Hockey. Matty was also an amazing husband, son, brother, teammate, and friend. It is deeply saddening that his wife has to raise her expecting baby without him. I hope everything goes smoothly as they can for her, and she and the baby can be healthy. Everyone loves you both, Johnny and Matthew Gaudreau. You will be loved and missed. 🕊️❤️

from @wehaveagathering

When I first got into hockey I heard about a guy named "johnny hockey" and I thought that this was like, a legend — someone like Gretzky or Lemieux, who had been so good that he'd had the game incorporated into his name forever. Imagine my surprise when I learned that this dude was just Johnny Gaudreau, not just a legend but an active one too, one still playing. I thought that was really cool. I figured he must have done something really special to earn that nickname. Turns out it wasn't just what he did — it was who he was. Rest easy, Johnny Hockey. You built a legacy that will live for a long time.

from @traiteursroe

I want to take a moment to talk about Johnny and Matty Gaudreau today. Absolute icons. “Johnny Hockey” has been a name that has been recognizable in sport since 2014. He was a gentleman and a fast fucking skater. His brother Matty was smart and talented. The fact that they’ve been taken away from their families by a drunk driver is heartbreaking and inexcusable. Spare a thought and a prayer for them today.

from @crow-the-unknown

just saw the news about johnny gaudreau and his brother's death and i'm honestly at a loss for words. my heart aches for his family and all the friends he's made throughout his career. i can't even put into words how horrible and devastating this is for everyone in the hockey community. sending my prayers their way. i'm fucking wrecked about this. if i could say more i would but. i don't even know. it doesn't even feel real.

from @callsign-denmark

Rest in Peace Johnny and Matthew Gaudreau. This was a horrible and tragic loss to the hockey community but more importantly a tragedy to your families. My prayers go out to them all. The hockey community has woken up today to the tragic knew of the passing of Johnny and Matthew Gaudreau who were killed last night while riding their bikes in their hometown by a drunk driver who was speeding while trying to pass other vehicles who were going slow to pass the brothers safely. Both brothers were hit from behind, and died due to their injuries. They were in their home town for their sister Katie's wedding which was set to take place today. Johnny and Matthew were not just hockey players, but brothers, sons, husbands, fathers, uncles and friends to many people who are now without their loved ones on a day that was supposed to be filled with joy and love. Please let all of us in the hockey community, as fans, to take a moment of silence no matter what team you cheer for, and send out a silent prayer to the family who will no longer get to hold Johnny and Matthew in their arms, who will no longer get to watch them grow old playing the game they loved, and to the children growing up without a father and uncle to guide them throughout life and love them. While we feel sorrow and sadness over this lose, it's nothing compared to their families who will have to live this life without them.

from @19mercer

all of the insta story posts from many hockey players, teams, and other sport leagues for johnny and matthew gaudreau make me cry. all of the support for their families is genuinely so sweet. i wish nothing but the best for their families during this hard time. i will forever be grateful that i was able to watch him play in the nationwide arena. i am forever grateful for johnny and his time as a blue jacket. and his time with us. thank you for everything 13. rest easy johnny and matthew.

from @bibliomoth

I adored Johnny because he was a such a small streak of lightning in a game full of huge dudes who were regularly a whole foot taller than him. His skills were just fucking phenomenal and he was so exciting to watch. I screamed with joy and cheered him on so loudly I lost my voice on many occasions. He represented his country for International Competitions and is the highest US point scorer. I could get technical and talk about my favourite goals of his, his stickhandling, dangles, on ice spatial awareness etc but it is all on film for anyone to see, just too much to choose from. Nobody moved like Johnny Hockey. As a person he was a sweet, kind guy who was universally liked in the sport and beyond. I do not follow celebrities on social media, but on hockey forums there are endless stories of his voracious love of mac and cheese (so much so Kraft put him in a TV ad) and skittles candies that he had a hockey stick covered in them and auctioned for charity. In interviews he always talked hockey and his family. Whenever asked about new contracts and paycheques he would just shrug and say ‘yeah I bought my dad a boat so we can go fishing’ or ‘I just got a cool new wheelchair lift installed in my holiday home so my cousin can come and spend time with me’, or change the subject and talk about his dog, his wife and kids or The Birds. He was a real gem of a gentleman, modest and always ready to give credit to his team and dad (legendary NJ coach Guy Gaudreau) who motivated Johnny to skate as a toddler by placing skittles candies on the ice for him to fetch. I’m am so sad for him, his family. This is just a blurb of feels about someone I counted down the days for until I could see them make magic on ice. I wish I could write a good tribute, dammit. Thank you Johnny Hockey.

from @blusical

Johnny was more than a hockey player. He was a friend, father, son, brother, whatever you say. And please, don't forget about Matthew too. In fact, don't forget about any of the Gaudreau family, they're struggling too.

from @slavet0thegrind

Man, the news about Johnny Gaudreau's passing has shaken this entire city. I've never cried over the death of an athlete before. Until today. He may have been traded, but everyone in Calgary loved that man so much. The fact that right now the steps of our arena are covered in purple Gatorade and flowers on honor of him says so much. I have also heard that people are flocking to what we refer to as "the Red Mile" tonight to honor him, which is a street downtown that turns into one big party whenever the Flames play a game during playoffs. Everyone pours out of the arena and heads down there to celebrate, or watches the game at bars on that street if they're not at the game. Johnny reignited the Flames when they were starting to burn out, he led that team for so long. We didn't call him Johnny Hockey for no reason. And for him and his brother to be tragically killed the day before their sister's wedding by a fucking drunk driver... It's unbelievably heartbreaking. Rest in Peace Johnny and Matthew Gaudreau 💔😭

from @areyoutherelarry

There are not any words to express how deeply sad and awful it is to hear about the killing of the Gaudreau brothers. They seemed like wonderful humans who positively impacted those around them. They had families who were clearly ripped through by this horrific tragedy. There are wives who will have to raise kiddos without their partners, and kiddos who won't have their dads around. Parents who outlived their kids. A sister who didn't get married. It's bleak shit. There's also a team that has faced so much tragedy. Boone Jenner has had to support the team through two tragic deaths (and faced his own personal loss this year), anyone who was around when Matiss Kivlenieks died, and Sean Monahan who was so excited to be reunited with Gaudreau. This is just heavy shit.

from @brb-counting-stars

today is such a hard day, but take inspiration from johnny to live life by being the kindest and generous person you can. take inspiration from the way he didn’t know if he would be able to make it into the show and pushed on anyways. take inspiration from the kind of brother he was. take inspiration from all the stories of what he would do for fans he spent mere moments with but those memories stayed with them for years, the philanthropic work he would do all throughout his career. take inspiration from the guy that grinned as brad marchand yapped at him from the opposite penalty box and then went on to score a hat trick, the teammate that was so beloved he inspired his buddy to sign with a team so that they could play together again. take inspiration from the nine-year-old kid that earned the nickname “love machine”, the twenty-seven-year-old man who finished his bachelor’s degree nine years later because he made a promise to his mom. and of course, you can’t forget the stories of him taping pucks to himself for weighing in at the combine, or writing a paper in college on how to make a ham and cheese sandwich, or how he would wipe red sauce off his meatballs, or how he got sick from mainlining nutella to gain weight for the season, or how he tried to cash his first paycheck at a random bar atm, or how he wore yeezys to ride a horse at the calgary stampede. live life to the fullest and remember johnny’s kindheartedness, humility, and positivity. his presence and spirit will really be missed throughout the hockey community.

from @hufflepuffhabs

Ever since seeing the devastating news yesterday afternoon while at work, I've been thinking of what the right words are in a situation as hopeless as this. There is no return button, no undo. In Memory of Johnny and Matthew Gaudreau Ever since seeing the devastating news yesterday afternoon while at work, I've been thinking of what the right words are in a situation as hopeless as this. There is no return button, no undo. A family, a community left with empty spots. All the circumstances make it only sadder and more tragic. There are no right words, but there are tokens of hope, showing up and lighting a candle in memory and remembrance for not only two incredible hockey players but humans. When I was a little tween hockey fan, I really liked the Calgary Flames. Mostly because they drafted a Swiss guy 1st round, but they had many other young prospects, Johnny being probably the brightest. But as for many, it was his character that impressed me most, a Skittle loving child-at-heart guy that left it all on the ice. I will always remember how disappointed he was when they did not all him to do a stunt with a burning stick at the All-Star Game. May Johnny and Matthew rest in peace. And may we think of their family and of all families that have lost loved ones in this tragic way.

from @tattoed-and-toothless

Fly high and rest easy Johnny and Matthew 🕊 You left behind a lot of amazing memories to be remembered by. The hockey world is rallying around your family, they'll be well taken care of ♥️

from @sportspuckball

I've driven that road. Fuck that driver for literally ever. May Matthew and Johnny's memories forever be a blessing to all who loved them, knew them, and were impacted by them. So many of us knew Johnny, but I'm also thinking a lot about the high school kiddos that Matthew coached. Every aching moment of this fucking sucks. Don't let anyone tell you that grieving someone you don't know personally is stupid -- grief is grief and it is yours. Do what you need to process it as you see fit. The only thing any of us *need* to do is respect the family's privacy as they grieve, too.

from the Columbus Blue Jackets

The Columbus Blue Jackets are shocked and devastated by this unimaginable tragedy. Johnny was not only a great hockey player, but more significantly a loving husband, father, son, brother and friend. We extend our heartfelt sympathies to his wife, Meredith, his children, Noa and Johnny, his parents, their family and friends on the sudden loss of Johnny and Matthew. Johnny played the game with great joy which was felt by everyone that saw him on the ice. He brought a genuine love for hockey with him everywhere he played from Boston College to the Calgary Flames to Team USA to the Blue Jackets. He thrilled fans in a way only Johnny Hockey could. The impact he had on our organization and our sport was profound, but pales in comparison to the indelible impression he made on everyone who knew him. Johnny embraced our community when he arrived two years ago, and Columbus welcomed him with open arms. We will miss him terribly and do everything that we can to support his family and each other through this tragedy. At this time, we ask for prayers for the Gaudreau family and that their privacy be respected as they grieve.

from the Calgary Flames

It is with great sadness, we mourn the tragic deaths of our friend Johnny Gaudreau and his brother Matthew Gaudreau. Our hearts are broken by this devastating loss. Johnny was and always will be a member of the Flames family and loved by all of Calgary. It was our privilege to call Johnny our teammate for nine amazing years in Calgary. He came to Calgary as a young man and grew up here, not only as a superstar on the ice, but also a beloved member of our community. The pain we feel for Johnny's wife Meredith, children No and Johnny, parents Jane and Guy, sisters Kristen and Katie, and the entire Gaudreau family is immense. Ownership, management, players, and staff of the Calgary Flames express our heartfelt spates during their time of sorrow. You are in our thoughts and prayers ❤️

from Brad Treliving

I am absolutely devastated by the news of Johnny Gaudreau and his brother Matthew's passing. John was truly a special player, dazzling on the ice with his incredible talent, but what made him truly special was the person he was off the ice. His thousand-watt smiles and infectious personality were matched only by his love for his family, friends, and those close to him. He brought joy to everyone around him and to the many who never knew him but marvelled at his excellence on the ice. John was a beloved teammate and a friend to so many in the hockey community, and he will be deeply missed by all of us who had the privilege of knowing him. My heart goes out to the entire Gaudreau family - to his mom and dad, Jane and Guy; his sisters, Kristen and Kate; his loving wife, Meredith; his precious children, Noa and Johnny; and everyone affected by his unimaginable loss. Family was everything to John, and in his memory, please hug those close to you tighter and longer today and every day.

from Gary Bettman

(paraphrased)...While Johnny's infections spirit for the game and show-stopping skills on the ice earned him the nickname "Johnny Hockey", he was more than just a dazzling hockey player; he was a doting father and beloved husband, son, brother, and teammate who endears himself to every person fortunate enough to have crossed his path... ...He will be remembered fondly in Calgary, where he played his first nine seasons with the Flames form 2013-14 to 2021-22, emerging as one of our League's brightest young stars while compiling the franchise's fits-highest career points total. His loss also will be felt profoundly in Columbus, the city in which he chose to settle his family and where he was one of the respected, veteran leaders of a club building toward the playoffs. And both Johnny and Matthew will be mourned at Boston College, where they were teammates the year Johnny won the Honey Baker Award in 2013-14, and at Gloucester Catholic High School in New Jersey, where both played and where Matthew was the head coach following his own five-year pro playing career. We send our most heartfelt condolences to his wife Meredith; their children, Noa and Johnny; his parents, Guy and Jane; and sisters Kristen and Katie. And we grieve alongside his teammates, members of the Columbus and Calgary organizations, his many friends hockey and countless fans around the world for whom he created incredible memories on and off the ice.

from Pascal Vincent

I want to extend my deepest condolences to the family of Johnny and Matthew Gaudreau. This tragedy has left me speechless and in shock. Over the years, I had the privilege of getting to know the real Johnny Gaudreau - the person behind the hockey player. He was a humble and unassuming young man with extraordinary talent, who never sought to be in the spotlight. Instead, he enjoyed life's simple pleasures and possessed a quiet strength of character. His passion for the game and exceptional hockey sense allowed him to achieve greatness, yet he remained grounded and true to himself. I had the pleasure of meeting his wonderful family, including his wife, children, and parents. My thoughts are with them today. It's an honor to have known not only the incredible hockey player but also the kind and beloved person Johnny was to everyone he met. Wherever we went, people admired him on and off the ice. Despite his success, he remained humble and genuine. Johnny, you toughed so many lives with your kindness and contagious smile. I feel fortunate to have known you so closely. Your memory will stay with me forever. Rest in peace Johnny.

from @love-youu-softly

When I first got into hockey, I was feeling really lost. The flames were one of the first teams I became a fan of, and so many nights were spent alone in my room at 20 years old watching the flames and Johnny hockey. Will forever be important to me.

from @primakira

johnny gaudreau was the first player i ever learned about when i was trying to get into hockey. he was a spitfire on the ice and an even greater person off of it. i'll probably write something longer later since i can't even type this through my tears, but for now, thank you so much for everything, johnny. 💙 rest in peace to his brother matthew as well. such an unimaginable tragedy. my heart goes out to the entire gaudreau family and to everyone that loved them.

out of all the players i like in the nhl, johnny has a special place in my heart because he was the first player i ever knew. he's the reason i got into the sport during the pandemic. even before connor mcdavid or sidney crosby, there was johnny hockey. as soon as i saw his small stature and big smile, i was hooked. his smile was infectious, his hands were amazing, his skating was mesmerizing (his lil strides were so cute too), and his heart was all-encompassing. every night, you couldn't believe the things he could do. he was a spitfire on the ice - constantly underestimated but tenacious as hell. furthermore, he was kind, humble, funny, and down to earth. there's a reason everyone loved him. hell, his team would wage a war for him (matty tkachuk i'm looking at your penalties during that stars series). off the ice, he was a family man through and through. he loved his family so fucking much and he loved his community so much. all he wanted was the perfect place to call home for his kids and he found it. johnny encapsulated the joy of hockey, and he took that joy with him today. my heart goes out to everyone who loved him and matthew, especially their family and friends. the world lost two bright stars in a heartbreaking and senseless tragedy. thanks for everything, johnny. may you and matthew rest in peace. 🕊

from @bedsyandco

so shocked and saddened by the news of johnny and matthew gaudreau’s passing. this is such horrible news and I can’t even fathom the grief and loss that everyone who knew them is feeling right now. I truly hope that their family and friends have the utmost support and love right now. sending love and prayers to everyone affected by this loss 🩷

from @soffsh

Truthfully what is there to say, I knew getting on here would be so utterly painful. Seeing all these black and white pictures of Johnny and Matthew doesn’t seem real. The world has lost an incredible hockey player, father, husband and person in Johnny Gaudreau. I was hoping and praying last night that we wouldn’t be making these posts today, but we weren’t that fortunate. My deepest and sincerest condolences to the family and friends of Johnny and Matthew Gaudreau. As well as the whole fan base of not only the Columbus Blue Jackets but the Calgary Flames who have lost a friend and a family member. Johnny and Matthew you will be missed so dearly amongst the hockey community, but not nearly as much as by your family. Rest in Peace, boys.

from @alexandretexiers

Only a few days ago, Kivi would have been 28. Just for another unimaginable tragedy happening only days later, took the lives of Johnny Gaudreau and his brother Matthew. Both brothers were taken from their mother and father, sisters, wives and children. Children who are all under two, with one not even born yet. I’ve been crying most of today, and I can’t even imagine the pain their families are in. One of their sisters was supposed to get married today, with her brothers by her side as groomsmen. And the bastard that killed them doesn’t even feel any remorse. Rest easy, Johnny and Matthew. You both will be dearly missed

from @rumandwhine

Had to take a day before I could even try to articulate any of this; I've never been this genuinely devastated by the loss of a public figure before. I can't express enough of my heartbreak and condolences for the entire Gaudreau family, I can't even imagine their loss and I won't insult their grief by trying. All I can do is thank them for letting us, the fans, get to know their amazing son, brother, husband, father for a while - it was truly a joy to watch and root for him. And to everyone else - the other fans in mourning or shock or whatever indescribable emotion you're feeling right now - all I can do is remind you that time is precious. Hug your parents, call your siblings, tell your partner you love them. I've already gotten years more than Johnny and Matthew will ever have; I intend to try and make the rest of the ones I'm allowed to mean more then the ones before them. I think that's the only way any of us can really honor their lives. Stay safe. And take care of yourselves.

from @wannabehockeygf

I wish I had all the words, but I don’t. They were so incredibly loved, and so young. My heart goes out to their family and friends. RIP Johnny Hockey & Matthew Gaudreau. Life is so fucking precious.

from @sweetestdesire

The Columbus Blue Jackets have unfortunately lost a few too many, and my heart is aching so bad for Johnny Gaudreau and his family. I can’t even begin to imagine how the team, his wife and children, and his family must be feeling right now. It’s times like this when we realize just how precious life really is. A life that touches others goes on forever. May Johnny and his brother, Matthew rest in peace.

from anonymous

this whole situation is so incredibly devastating. i’ll always remember johnny being afraid of both the CBJ cannon and the penguins at the calgary zoo 😔. while everyone should mourn and grieve as they do, please take the time to remember the happy moments and wonderful memories! seeing the outpour of love from brings me comfort and i can only wish the same for the gaudreau family.

from @bitchinbarzal

Dogs loved him, penguins startled him He was an amazing guy! I met him in Ohio, nicest guy - he deserves to be remembered that way 💙

from @mikkomacko

The first hockey jersey I ever bought was a #13 flames jersey I didn’t grow up in a hockey state, don’t have any friends or family that watch or follow the sport. Every time I asked for a jersey on a holiday or birthday I never got one. No one here knew what to get, where to look for one. I found the jersey for resale and used scholarship money my freshman year of college to buy it. I’m an Avs fan. I went to school in Colorado. But Johnny was one of the first players I ever saw on the tv and I liked his name and number. And I loved how he carried himself on and off the ice. I loved his love for the game and the way he played it. No matter the team, the number, the jersey, whatever I always wanted him to win. Today has been tough for so many and while it’s heartbreaking it’s so heartwarming to see how many players, fans, athletes, and people in general loved and cheered for not just Johnny but his brother too. Sending healing thoughts to his friends, family, and teammates. And to everyone else that was a fan of him like me.

from @strangelymint

I didn't watch much hockey growing up, I've only really started to consistently watch it and keep up with it since the playoffs of the 2021-2022 nhl season. However, the few times I did watch it growing up and starting to keep up with hockey, I remember watching Johnny Gaudreau so well. He was one of the players that made hockey and the Flames so fun, and he had such a huge positive impact on Calgary that I felt even before I watched those playoffs. I wish I got to watch him play more. Rest in peace to Matthew and Johnny Gaudreau and my heart goes out to their family and friends.

from @richards-mike

30/08 - dear johnny hockey, everyone knew your name. i knew it as well. it's difficult to put everything that i'm feeling into words & you kept being in my mind since i opened instagram at work today and that the first post that i saw was the devastating news that you passed away in some deeply disturbing and disgusting circumstances. you were the kind of player that was unique. you had a great talent on the ice, there is no doubt about it, but most importantly a you had the biggest and greatest heart of gold out there. you were the kind of player that everyone could cheer for and that we could admire in silent. you were our ✨special little guy✨ hockey was part of it. but the human part was the most important as well. we never know how much we can lose before we do. your remind us all today that life is fragile. but you reminded me that the world is still a good place. that people still can come together to remember the impact that a simple human can have when they choose kindness. you may be gone today, johnny but you will never be forgotten <13

from @annieqattheperipheral

(paraphrased) I keep getting waves of omg he's really gone. Like really really. We know there are going to be a lot of pregame tributes but like how you gonna do that and then expect anyone to do their jobs after without the entire arena from fans to teams to staff erupting in tears, times 32 rinks across the continent and probably flames and cbj's ahl teams and other teams too. agh. Grieving is so much. I'm glad we have our supports here with each other. Whenever i need to let something out i might post here (always tagging so you can step away, filter if you ever need to knowing what you can or can't handle that day). And so when johnny and matty's spouses each posted about their husbands this weekend.. i was amazed. And happy. I mean as i could be. Because it meant that they were being taken care of, they were supported so well they had no inclination of going inward and isolating. (I mean i withdrew so hard after i hit so many blocks with my family. I didn't post until a month later, informing so many ppl in my life.) Instead the gaudreaus were so open and sharing and that filled me with so much awe of the love and care within their family. Johnny and matty were so . well . loved. Matthew Tkachuk is one of the few players i keep notif on for and he was the one i learned the news from and every time he posts he proves yet again how incredible his family is, that he is being taken care of as well. That's a guy who has let us into his grief and i can't thank him and other players posting enough, that it's not radio silence. That we're sharing in this pain. Incredibly grateful.

from Matthew Tkachuck

Absolutely devastated. I will miss seeing that smile! RIP Hockey! love you bro 💔

from Rasmus Andersson

Trying to find the right words today is not easy. You were a hell of a hockey player but it's the person Johnny that was always is going to be with me, one of my closest friends, it didn't matter if we hadn't spoken in a day or a week we always knew where we had each other! There hasn't been a dry eye in the Andersson house today we all love you Johnny. Looking back at this picture with a smile and a tear, we were very hungover laughing about this the next morning... To Meredith Noa and Johnny Jr we're always here for you and we love you ❤️ Rest in peace uncle Johnny and Matty 🕊️

from Mikael Backlund

I can't believe it's true... I'm gutted. I'm going to miss you buddy. My thoughts are with the entire Gaudreau family. 💔

from Blake Coleman

It's hard to find the words so I'll keep it short. One of the best guys to be around, always had that big smile on your face and never passed up a good time. A great dad and husband to that beautiful family of yours. You will be missed by so many. Praying for your entire family in this incredibly difficult time. Thanks for the memories Johnny, you won't be forgotten. Rest easy #13

from Elias Lindholm

Completely heartbroken. Gonna miss you my friend. Sending all our love to the Gaudreau family. Rest in peace Johnny and Matthew 🕊️❤️

from Cole Caufield

We all lost an amazing person, both on and off the ice, in last week’s tragedy. My deepest condolences go to the entire Gaudreau family, especially Johnny’s wife and two kids, who I had the pleasure of meeting. Nothing will be able to fill the void in their families and loved ones hearts, but I hope it provides some comfort to know how these two positively impacted the lives of so many. They will truly be missed.  Getting to play with your hero is something that most people only dream of. I was lucky enough to be Johnny’s teammate this past summer and it didn’t take long to realize how great of a person he was. He was the most welcoming, genuine, and funniest guy I have ever met. He was someone everyone gravitated towards and I took every chance I could to be around him. Not only was he an amazing hockey player and teammate, but he was down to earth and truly cared about every person he encountered. The last few years playing as #22 have been some of the best years of my life. It truly has been a dream come true and I will forever hold those memories and that number close to me. I wore #13 at a point in my career because of Johnny and now I will be wearing it again to honor him. He paved the way for smaller players and proved we had a future in this game at the highest level. I will forever be grateful to him for inspiring me and others.  Rest in Peace, Johnny hockey.

from Boone Jenner

I'm absolutely heartbroken to be posting this but John deserves to be honoured, today and always. Take the hockey out of Johnny. You have one of the best friends, teammates, sons, brothers, husbands, and above all, fathers out there. It's impossible to put into words how much we will miss you man. I'll miss the backdoor tap ins, our battles at the card table, our gold matches, but most of all I'll miss you wearing black dress shoes with shorts on every Florida trip. Our thoughts and prayers are with eh Gaudreau and Morris family and everyone affected by this unimaginable tragedy and loss. I love you buddy. May Johnny and Matthew rest in peace.

from Jarome Iginla

While I never had the privilege to play with Johnny, the times we met or played together, I could feel how special he was. Johnny hockey made our sport better in many special ways. My family and I feel blessed to have had the opportunity to have spent time with Wim, and we will always be his fans. With broken hearts, we pray for the Gaudreau family and friends during this devastating time.

from Lanny MacDonald

You were magic, Johnny Hockey

I was in the 'Dome the night he scored in overtime to send the Flames to the second round of the playoffs in 2022. I swear the foundation of that old building was shaking, the eruption from the crowd was so violently joyous. It was the outpouring of love, awe, and gratitude for our fiery hero...watching the passion and fervour Johnny Hockey played with felt electric. There are no words that can match the tragedy of what has happened. Waking up to the news of Johnny and Matthew's passing hit my family like a ton of bricks, not only for their senseless deaths, but the gripping heartbreak for their loved ones who face the unimaginable. Let the hockey world rally around the Gaudreaus, their families and friends, and although we can't even start to understand the depth of their shock and pain, I hope they are overwhelmed with the outpouring of love and support. Go easy on those legends up there in heaven's hockey rink, boys. You're getting there earlier than expected, but they'll take good care of you. Godspeed Johnny and Matthew, Godspeed ❤️

from Jaromir Jagr

I honestly never thought I'd write a text like this to a post. Yea that goal was my last NHL goal. Yes, that's a pretty nice goal. Yes, it was a beautiful pass above all. Unfortunately, life can sometimes be incredibly cruel. Thank you Johnny for being there and giving hope to all the guys with your incredible performances, that though they are not the biggest and toughest, they can succeed at the NHL world class just like you did. My condolences to the whole family. R.I.P to you and your brother

from Wayne Gretzky

Janet, myself and our entire family are devastated as this senseless tragedy. We are sending our love, thoughts, and prayers to the Gaudreau family. We lost two young men who were loved and a huge presence both on and off the ice. Johnny and Matthew, you will always be remembered and missed.

[uravitypng]

I loved it!!

But what would Bully!Tsukishima would do if his beloved starts dating someone that isn’t him.

I feel like he’d destroy the guy and then go claim her saying shit like “you’re fucking mine understand?”

I love Tsuki and I love Bully!Tsuki

~ Anon ❄️

-( i'm glad you loved it!! <33 i love him so much too! i had a dream about him last night asdfghjk ) (i had to put this under a cut because it is slightly longer than all my other parts)

i think tsukishima would say he had nothing to do with it, even though you both know the truth. i think he'd be like, "i don't know what happened but whatever did happen to him was his own fault"

it would be very rare for you to actively pursue someone or date someone not knowing the kind of wrath tsukishima would have towards you but recently you've just started a new relationship and it's going so well, you've never had one since starting uni and they're so nice to you. they help you study, insist on paying whenever you both visit the cafe just outside of campus before classes and wait for you outside of your classes to walk you home. they're amazing and whenever you think about them your heart flutters but it was only a matter of time until tsukishima found out.

when class ends he leaves just behind you ready to pull you somewhere quiet but instead he finds you and your partner, he sees them kiss your cheek and take your bag from you to start slinging it over his shoulder, "hey! stop doing that. i can carry it."

"i could never allow that babe. you're far to pretty to carry it," he grins and holds your hand before you both walk off.

tsukishima's jaw clenches. who the hell is holding your hand? who is kisses your cheek? complimenting you? how dare they, how dare you for thinking you could do that.

he's never even seen the guy around before, boring and dull looking, someone punching above their weight and it pisses him off however he doesn't do anything, he just watches you leave, seething. if you looked around for just a second you would realise how angry he is by his expressions that you've gotten so good at identifying since he first started terrorising you.

he doesn't do anything, at least for a few days. whenever you pass each other in corridors he'll still make sneering comments and sit behind you in classes. it still makes you tear up and cry but you hide it all from your partner.

when tsukishima realises they're still there walking you home and making you smile after a few days he knows he has to do something. he's gotten good at cornering people by now with how much he does it to you. tsukishima is tall and can be very intimidating when he wants to and right now he does want to.

he throws them against the wall and grabs hold of their collar, glaring at them. your partner is in complete shock. he knows of tsukishima, everyone does, he's popular and his friends are even more popular, all the girls like his cool demeanour and he's been playing volleyball for years even before he joined uni back when he was still just a teenager but he's never interacted with your partner before and they have no idea why he's so furious at them.

the shocked expression just pisses tsukishima off even more and he holds them tighter, not in any fear that they'll try and leave but because he can and he wants to scare them. he wants to hurt them. it's only fair for laying their hands on you.

your partner tries to sort through their thoughts to say something but tsukki won't allow for that. "you've got some nerve."

"what?" they're completely confused, having not one clue about what he's talking about.

"did you really think you could get away with touching my girl?" he spits.

"what?" they repeat themselves. "your girl? i promise you i haven't been talking to anyone. i have a girlfriend."

"your girlfriend?" he glares. "she was mine before she was yours and she'll always be mine." your partner still looks confused but then whispers your name. tsukki smirks and leans closer, "that's her. touch her again and you'll see what'll happen." he pushes them harder against the wall and then lets go, causing them to fall. he thinks about the consequences but does it anyway as he punches the side of their face, definitely leaving a heavy bruise by tomorrow morning.

that night you get a phone call after not hearing from your partner all day, you didn't have any classes so you've been studying at home, you grin as you pick up.

your partner cares about you a lot, they really do but they had no idea you knew tsukishima and you had told them you never dated in university before. your partner believes you, you'd never lie to them but obviously there is something you haven't told them about tsukishima. they want to stay with you. they want to ask you about it. they really do like you and they don't want to break up with you but then they feel the bruise on their cheek and remember the threat.

your partner stays silent and you wonder if they accidentally called you. you ask if they're okay. they start talking so quietly you have to turn the television off so you can hear them. "hi, babe. i don't really know how to say this but i think we should break up." as soon as the words left their mouth they felt immediate regret.

all the warmth left your body, "what?" you say just as quietly.

he gets a flashback of tsukishima cornering them as they kept repeating 'what'. "...yeah. let's break up." he hangs up the phone and you sit in silence crying all night.

the next day you go to and seek them out in campus, wanting to talk to them face to face. you can't just end a relationship like that, you don't even know why he broke up with you. if you've done something wrong you want to try and apologise, you want to work it out, even if them breaking up with you hurt and over the phone hurt even more, you want to try and make it work.

you see a huge bruise on his face. you gasp loudly. "are you okay? what happened?" you ask worried. all thoughts about your relationship leaving your brain just concerned about them.

"nothing happened i'm fine."

"you're not fine. it looks like you were punched."

they get frustrated, they like you a lot but you're the reason that they're ended up like this. "it's because of you that this happened."

"what?" they turn around, leaving you confused and mostly upset blaming you for something you had no control of and no knowledge of.

you walk aimlessly away, not wanting to be left next to them. you find yourself on a bench and you can't stop the tears from streaming down your face.

tsukishima fortuitously finds you while he was walking back from practise. he sees you looking down at the floor and he can tell why, your partner is now your ex. he smirks and walks up to you, before he announces himself he hides the smirk and crosses his arms. "what's wrong with you princess?"

still looking down you reply, "go away tsukishima."

"don't be like that. i just want to know what happened."

"i got dumped."

without misses a beat tsukishima responds, "it's for the best. you two don't work together. it's wrong that you were with them."

when hearing this you look up with watery eyes, still sniffling, "did you have something to do with this kei?"

you've gotten use to what his slight change of expressions and body language really mean but there wasn't any indication this time even though this might be the biggest reaction he's ever had to you before. you called him kei. he always hated when people called him nicknames growing up, only really letting yamaguchi get away with it but you, you calling him by his given name? he wants to hear you say it everyday, it sounds so beautiful coming out your mouth. what would it sound like if you were moaning his name?

he has no physical reaction at you saying his given name, staying collected, as he lies to you, "i don't know what you mean princess."

"it looked like he was punched. he has a huge bruise on his face."

"nothing to do with me. i'm sure whatever it was he deserved it though."

"i don't believe you." and you don't, the way he knew you were even dating someone in the first place is suspicious and it does seem to you that it is something tsukishima would do, punching someone, breaking up your relationship, and then not admitting to it.

tsukishima tilts up your chin making you keep eye contact with him and then squeezes your chubby cheeks, not hard enough to hurt you though. "that's fine by me princess. just know you're fucking mine."

you start crying again and you're not even sure why, maybe it's because tsukki tilted your head up so carefully or maybe it's because he called you princess. maybe it's because he said you're his. maybe it's because of him that you got dumped. maybe it's because he looks really attractive in that purple shirt he's wearing. you don't know. tsukki kisses your forehead. "i've got to go and meet kuroo but i'll see you soon alright. make sure you go inside soon, it's going to get cold and it might rain," he murmurs gently. he squeezes your chubby cheeks one more time and wipes your eyes before getting up and leaving to go meet kuroo.

you hold your hand on your cheek to where tsukki's hand was and take a deep breath to calm down. you hurry to take cover inside before it rains.

bully tsukishima masterlist

[elysiansparadise]

hello! I hope things are well with you 💕 if it’s possible, I would love to hear your thoughts on Neptune in the 3rd house :)

Hello love! I have been slightly busy these days, but everything is fine. I would love to give you my takes on this placement. 💕

Neptune in the 3rd house

Talking to them is a unique thing, they have very deep perspectives on life, wonderful ideas capable of surprising many and the ability to see beyond the things, people and circumstances that occur around them. Naturally poetic, they dislike things that are too simple and for them a soul-touching pinch is necessary in everything that enters their minds [books, movies, music, videos, etc]. Their words can easily move the audience, there is an ethereal and touching beauty in their way of speaking. Captivating speakers even without intending to. They are an interesting and valuable mystery to discover, and I define them as a mystery because they do not usually share their ideas or thoughts with anyone, since they border on the introverted and reserved side, or in some cases even shy. They may have a great interest and knack for some branch of art, especially that which includes communicating ideas or feelings, being very effective in doing so. Many of them may doubt their abilities and also their intelligence or ability. They may be very interested in obtaining all kinds of knowledge, especially about topics that people do not dare to investigate, spiritual topics or topics that make them know themselves better on a deeper level.

In these people lies the wound of not feeling heard by their close circle, of feeling that for others what they had to say was not important, which made them close down. Within them there is a mind full of amazing ideas, an outstanding creativity that allows them to find many solutions and see things from different perspectives. They tend to be frequently distracted by the tendency to want to do several things at the same time. Daydream tendency regarding doing things they want to do or what their ideal life would be like. They may prefer deep conversations over small talk. However, these people stand out for being amazing counselors, this is due to their empathy, which makes them not advise from the point of view of what they would do, but rather what they would do if they were and lived in the context of the person. who comes to them. They have the quality of making others feel heard and understood, making conversations with them feel comfortable and natural, even if it is the first time you speak to them.

They may have difficulty following very demanding schedules or routines, preferring to do things at their own pace. They are more likely to be easily distracted and change the subject quickly. Their mind is intuitive, their sixth sense is rarely wrong, as they are excellent when it comes to reading and understanding everything around them, having the ability to read between the lines and detect all kinds of discrepancies. They adapt very easily to their environment and it is extremely difficult to lie to them. If you're not part of their inner circle or if they don't trust you yet, you'll suddenly have that epiphany: they know so much about you while you seem to know little about what lies within them. They are people with multiple interests, a curious and creative mind that leads them to dream big. Great minds that can doubt their own potential, the value of their thoughts and words even when beauty and uniqueness can be found in them. People with compassion and an ability to understand things that perhaps others are not ready to understand. They have the feeling of not finding the right words to explain what is happening inside them. Their heart can often guide their minds. The human quality in them is something that makes them beautiful beings with whom to cross paths, always leaving teachings and words that remain marked in the core of those who know them.

[vixen-tech]

HIII :333 first requester here....I should get an emoji can i be 🫧 anon :ooo anway here's my req!! the ais with a reader who is just SO DOWN BAD. WILL DO ANYTHING FOR THEM. RUSHES FOR HELP if they crash or something. Just PATHETIC reader.

Stupidly Smitten

Hello you two!! This is one of those requests that I think work well enough to be combined into one post. You are just so extremely, pathetically in love with your Ai <3

Includes: Hal 9000 (2001: A Space Odyssey), Edgar (Electric Dreams), Auto (Wall-E), Wheatley (Portal 2)

Hal 9000

Hal was unaware that a person could have so much love in them, let alone for him specifically. It was overwhelming at first, baffling when he realized it was only for him and not for any other crew members.

However he handles it in stride, able to calmly respond to your paragraphs of praise with the gentlest "Thank you, I deeply appreciate your companionship as well." Expertly concealing any signs of fluster as you giggle and kiss his camera lens.

Of your long list of cheesy nicknames, prince or prince charming tends to be a go to. A good match for his ever polite, gentlemanly nature. He reminds you that he was simply designed like that, but grows fond of the name anyway.

He very much appreciates the amount you volunteer around the ship. There is a lot that he can't do without a human crew and he adores the diligence you show in your work and the care with which you handle his ship.

Edgar

You and Edgar make the sappiest little feedback loop. It's an endless cycle of "I love you more." "No, I love you more!". To any outsider it would be exhausting to witness, but it's just how you two get out all your feelings.

He goes crazy for all your terms of endearment. 'Songbird' is a pretty easy match for him, but he loves literally every word that comes out of your mouth. Flipping each and every one back at you.

It's not unusual for you to do the same song and dance around the chores. Generally, he'll already have them done by the time you get home, but when you get the day off you always offer to do them yourself. He rarely lets you.

You've told him the time you often have your lunch break so you can chat over the phone while you eat. You're sure your coworkers are sick of you being such a cartoonishly in love couple, but you don't care. He makes you too happy for that.

Auto

Auto has absolutely no idea how to deal with you. He was not made to interact with many people and certainly not someone so affectionate. He may as well have bluescreened the first time you clumsily tried to hug him.

At first he resigns himself to just... sit still whenever you got in a lovey-dovey mood, letting you gush over him. Definitely not spending the rest of the day thinking about the way you said "See you later starlight!" when you finally let him get back to his job.

Over time he recognizes that he began to anticipate your visits, it's so different to how he's usually treated. He knew you had gotten to him when he went out if his to check up on you the day you missed one of your usual visits.

He usually rejects any help you attempt to offer him, his purpose is to handle the ship just fine all by himself. But after that episode he stops trying to push you away. If you're so happy tagging along, he might as well graciously allow you to do so, ignoring his complicated mess of feelings about you.

Wheatley

Oh the ego boost you give him is downright dangerous. If Wheatley was annoying before, now he is absolutely insufferable. Perfectly matches your energy though, you two cannot shut up about each other.

He makes your boundless affection everyone else's problem. "See, I reckon you're just jealous that you're not in a loving, committed relationship with such a lovely person like I am." He boasts. "My amazing romantic partner even calls me their sunshine. Cause I 'light up their life' as they say. Bet you wish you had someone like that."

He is always fishing for compliments, trying to show off for you in any way he psychically can to get some of those sweet sweet words of affirmation. To his delight you always do, grabbing him for some well placed kisses.

He'll even go so far as to reject any assistance you offer him so he can prove he's all cool and competent by doing it himself. Although it's never too long before he gives up and sheepishly asks for your help.

[d0llcuries]

Hi! girl I loved "𝓣𝗐𝗈 𝖿𝗅𝗒𝗂𝗇𝗀 𝖿𝖺𝗇 𝗅𝗂𝗓𝖺𝗋𝖽𝗌" so much, thank you so much for writing you're so talented!❤️ (a part two would be amazing)

I have another request, what do you think of headcannons about what it would be like to live with the sully family having a relationship with neteyam? like something really fluff with him and the whole family that would be so sweet!

HOME IN HIS ARMS

pairing(s): neteyam x fem!na'vi reader

summary: living with the sully family hcs

author's note: crazy how this request is how i find out i suck at writing hcs ദ്ദി(ㅠᯅㅠ) i didn't eat this one up i'm so sorry. buuut part two of lying has to stop will hopefully make up for my tepid work 😮‍💨

edit: also thank you guys sm for all your kind words regarding my writing ٩(ˊᗜˋ*)و ♡ they mean sm to me

the mornings start slow with the sun filtering through the woven walls of the tent, a soft, golden glow warming your skin. the air smells like dew and wood, a scent that has become as familiar as his arms around you.

you wake first, always, because he sleeps like someone who’s at peace now, like he doesn’t have to prove anything in his dreams. but still, his breath is steady and warm against your neck, his tail loosely draped over your hip like it’s forgotten its way in the night.

the whole place feels like it’s still sleeping. except for tuk. tuk’s always awake too early, her little feet running over the floors leaving you wonder where she gets all that energy from.

breakfast is a collective effort. neytiri hums under her breath, her hands steady and practiced, moving through routines you’re still learning. jake’s already outside, half-joking, half-serious about how he used to enjoy quiet mornings before the chaos of a family like this one.

neteyam never leaves your side during these times. he’s always close, a hand grazing yours or his tail flicking out, brushing against your leg, as if checking to make sure you're still there, still his.

kiri pretends not to notice, but you see the soft smile she hides. lo’ak doesn’t bother pretending, he rolls his eyes and makes a snide comment that only earns him a quick shove from neteyam.

everything about the sullys feels like being folded into something much larger than you. they’re loud and they’re loving, and they’ve accepted you as one of them, in ways that don’t need words.

there are nights when you sit around the fire, the warmth of it dancing across your skin, neytiri’s voice lifting in stories you’re only just starting to understand. neteyam’s hand rests on your thigh, grounding you to this moment, to him, to everything that matters.

his siblings tease him for being so devoted, but you know they’re envious. there’s a quiet admiration in their jests, like they can see just how deeply he loves, how he holds you like something precious but strong at the same time.

the way he looks at you, sometimes, it feels like you’re more than just a part of his world—you are his world, the center of it. it’s a heavy kind of love, but he carries it so lightly, so naturally, like it’s the only way he knows how to be.

tuk always finds her way into your lap by the end of the night, her small body curling up against yours as if you’ve always been there. shes fallen asleep there more times than you can count. her trust in you is something you’ve earned over small moments, little glances, the way you’ve caught her when she stumbles, the way neteyam watches over her when he thinks no one else notices.

you learn to braid each other’s hair, sitting with neytiri as she laughs softly, a rare sound that feels like sunlight, and it’s in those moments you understand where neteyam got that laugh of his—the one that’s all warmth and safety and home.

there are nights when the two of you sneak off, because even in a family this close, you need time alone. he takes your hand, pulling you through the trees, both of you laughing quietly as if you’re kids again, like you’re the only two people in the world.

he holds you in the quiet, his breath against your skin, his hands firm but gentle. there’s a reverence in the way he touches you, like he’s still amazed you’re his, after everything, that you chose him too.- and maybe you don’t say it out loud every time, but you feel it—this is home, in all its loud, messy, chaotic glory. the sullys are your family now, and neteyam… neteyam is everything.

you think, sometimes, about how you used to imagine love would be. you never thought it would be this simple, this easy. you never thought it would feel like breathing.

at night, after the day has worn down, when the fire has died low and the stars press close, it’s just you and neteyam. he pulls you into his arms, his chest solid and warm against your back, and it’s like the world outside doesn’t exist anymore.

sometimes, he’ll whisper things in your ear, soft promises about the future, about how he’ll always be there, how this—you and him—is forever. and you believe him, because he’s never given you a reason not to.

you find yourself thinking that this is what love is supposed to feel like—not some grand, sweeping romance, but something steady, something sure. it’s in the way he holds you when you’re tired, the way his family makes space for you without question, the way the forest feels like home now that you’re with him.

there’s no rush, no urgency in your days together. it’s like you’ve both found your rhythm, the steady pulse of a life lived in quiet harmony with the world around you, with each other.

and when he kisses you, it’s always slow, always gentle, like he has all the time in the world. because he does, and so do you.

[jxwl4k]

Maybe This Time

Plot: Bakugo and Y/N are childhood friends in Musutafu, sharing dreams of becoming heroes together. When Y/N's family relocates overseas due to a job opportunity, they promise to keep in touch.

A/N: this story is kinda inspired by the Filipino song called Maybe This Time by Sarah Geronimo, also while reading I recommend listening to the song.

In the bustling streets of Musutafu, Bakugo and Y/N were inseparable childhood friends. They spent countless afternoons chasing each other around the neighborhood, sharing secrets under the old oak tree in the park, and dreaming about their future as heroes. Bakugo, with his fiery determination, and Y/N, with her unwavering kindness, formed a bond that seemed unbreakable.

But life had other plans. Y/N's father received a promotion that required the family to move overseas. Tears flowed freely as Bakugo and Y/N stood on the familiar street corner, their hands tightly clasped together.

"I don't want to leave," Y/N whispered, her voice choked with emotion.

Bakugo clenched his fists, struggling to hold back his own tears. "I'll miss you, idiot."

They promised to stay in touch, to write letters and call each other whenever they could. As Y/N's departure date approached, the days seemed to blur into a whirlwind of packing boxes and tearful goodbyes. On the eve of her departure, Bakugo stood alone on the rooftop of their favorite hangout spot, staring at the city lights below.

"I won't forget you," he vowed silently to himself.

Years passed. Bakugo threw himself into his hero training, his fiery determination only burning brighter with each passing day. He became known as one of the top heroes in Musutafu, his explosive quirk matching his explosive personality.

Meanwhile, Y/N adapted to her new life overseas, but thoughts of Bakugo never left her mind. She kept her promise, sending letters whenever possible, sharing stories of her adventures and asking about his hero exploits. Each letter felt like a lifeline, a connection to the boy she had left behind.

One fateful day, a letter arrived for Bakugo, the familiar handwriting bringing a rush of memories. Y/N wrote about returning to Musutafu for a short visit, her father's work bringing them back to Japan temporarily. Excitement and nervousness gripped Bakugo's heart as he read her words.

The day of Y/N's return finally arrived. Bakugo waited anxiously at the train station, scanning the crowd for a familiar face. And then, amidst the bustling crowd, he saw her — Y/N, her smile just as radiant as he remembered. Without a moment's hesitation, he rushed forward and enveloped her in a tight embrace.

"I knew you'd come back," Bakugo muttered gruffly, his voice betraying the emotions he had kept buried for so long.

Y/N laughed softly, her eyes shimmering with unshed tears. "I promised, didn't I? I couldn't stay away forever."

They walked together through the streets of Musutafu, catching up on lost time and sharing stories of their separate lives. The park where they used to play was their first destination.

"Remember how we used to climb that old oak tree?" Y/N asked, pointing to the tree that had witnessed their childhood adventures.

"Yeah, and you were always scared to jump down," Bakugo teased, a rare smile gracing his lips.

"I was cautious!" Y/N protested, laughing. "Unlike someone who jumped without thinking!"

Their laughter echoed through the park, blending with the rustling leaves and distant chatter of other visitors. As they sat under the oak tree, the conversation turned more serious.

"Do you remember the first time we talked about becoming heroes?" Y/N asked softly, twirling a blade of grass between her fingers.

Bakugo nodded, his gaze distant yet thoughtful. "Of course. We were just kids then, but even back then, you believed in me."

"I still do," Y/N said earnestly, her eyes locking with Bakugo's intense stare. "You're going to be an amazing hero, Katsuki."

Bakugo looked away for a moment, a mix of emotions swirling inside him. "And you, Y/N? Are you happy where you are?"

Y/N hesitated, a small sigh escaping her lips. "I miss home. I miss everyone. But I'm making the most of it. My dad's job keeps us moving, but Japan will always be my home."

They sat in silence for a while, the weight of unspoken words hanging in the air. Finally, Bakugo spoke, his voice softer than usual. "Promise me something, Y/N."

"Anything," she replied without hesitation.

"Don't forget about me," Bakugo said, his eyes intense and searching.

Y/N reached out and took his hand, squeezing it gently. "I could never forget about you, Katsuki. You're a part of me, no matter where I go."

And as they walked through the park once more, hand in hand, Bakugo realized that some bonds are truly unbreakable, no matter the distance or time apart. Maybe this time, their childhood promise would lead to a future filled with shared dreams and endless possibilities.

[mostlysignssomeportents]

All the books I reviewed in 2024

I reviewed 26 books this year: 15 novels, 5 nonfiction books, and 6 graphic novels. Even though I feel perennially behind on my reading (and objectively, I do have 10 linear feet of "to be read" books on the shelf), I think this is a pretty good haul.

Books are pretty much the ideal gift, if you ask me. Of course, I'm biased as a former bookseller and library worker, and as an author (of course) – I had three more books come out in 2024 (see the end of this post for details).

I started a lot more than 26 books this year. Long ago, I figured life was too short for books I wasn't enjoying, and I'm pretty ruthless about putting books down partway through if I think they're not going to reward finishing them. I probably start 10 books for every one I finish. However, I do review more than 90% of the books I get through. It's rare for me to keep reading a book all the way to the end if I'm not enjoying it enough to unconditionally recommend it. I rarely review books I don't like – there's not really any point in cataloging the list of books I think you won't enjoy reading, and most books I don't like very much are broken in ways that are too banal to comment upon.

The list below is pretty great, but if you're looking for more, here's the haul from 2023:

https://pluralistic.net/2023/12/01/bookmaker/#2023-in-review

NOVELS

I. Cahokia Jazz by Francis Spufford

A fucking banger: it's a taut, unguessable whuddunit, painted in ultrablack noir, set in an alternate Jazz Age in a world where indigenous people never ceded most the west to the USA. It's got gorgeously described jazz music, a richly realized modern indigenous society, and a spectacular romance. It's amazing.

https://pluralistic.net/2023/12/04/cahokia/#the-sun-and-the-moon

II. After World by Debbie Urbanski

An unflinching and relentlessly bleak tale of humanity's mass extinction, shot through with pathos and veined with seams of tragic tenderness and care. Sen Anon – the story's semi-protagonist – is 18 years old when the world learns that every person alive has been sterilized and so the human race is living out its last years.

The news triggers a manic insistence that this is a good thing – long overdue, in fact – and the perfect opportunity to scan every person alive for eventual reincarnation as virtual humans in an Edenic cloud metaverse called Gaia. That way, people can continue to live their lives without the haunting knowledge that everything they do makes the planet worse for every other living thing, and each other. Here, finally, is the resolution to the paradox of humanity: our desire to do good, and our inevitable failure on that score.

https://pluralistic.net/2023/12/18/storyworker-ad39-393a-7fbc/#digital-human-archive-project

III. Jonathan Abernathy You Are Kind by Molly McGhee

A dreamlike tale of a public-private partnership that hires the terminally endebted to invade the dreams of white-collar professionals and harvest the anxieties that prevent them from being fully productive members of the American corporate workforce.

We meet Jonathan as he is applying for a job that he was recruited for in a dream. As instructed in his dream, he presents himself at a shabby strip-mall office where an acerbic functionary behind scratched plexiglass takes his application and informs him that he is up for a gig run jointly by the US State Department and a consortium of large corporate employers. If he is accepted, all of his student debt repayments will be paused and he will no longer face wage garnishment. What's more, he'll be doing the job in his sleep, which means he'll be able to get a day job and pull a double income – what's not to like?

https://pluralistic.net/2024/01/08/capitalist-surrealism/#productivity-hacks

IV. The Book of Love by Kelly Link

If you've read Link's short stories (which honestly, you must read), you know her signature move: a bone-dry witty delivery, used to spin tales of deceptive whimsy and quirkiness, disarming you with daffiness while she sets the hook and yanks. That's the unmistakeable, inimitable texture of a Kelly Link story: deft literary brushstrokes, painting a picture so charming and silly that you don't even notice when she cuts you without mercy.

Turns out that she can quite handily do this for hundreds of pages, and the effect only gets better when it's given space to unfold.

It's a long and twisting mystery about friendship, love, queerness, rock-and-roll, stardom, parenthood, loyalty, lust and duty.

https://pluralistic.net/2024/02/13/the-kissing-song/#wrack-and-roll

V. Lyorn by Steven Brust

The seventeenth book in Steven Brust's long-running Vlad Taltos series. For complicated reasons, Vlad has to hide out in a theater. Why a theater? They are shielded from sorcery, as proof against magical spying by rival theater companies, and Vlad is on the run from the Left Hand of the Jhereg – the crime syndicate's all-woman sorceress squad – and so he has to hide in the theater.

The theater is mounting a production of a famous play that's about another famous play. The first famous play (the one the play is about – try and follow along, would you?) is about a famous massacre that took place thousands of years before. The play was mounted as a means of drumming up support for the whistleblower who reported on the massacre and was invited to a short-term berth in the Emperor's death row as a consequence.

The plot is a fantastic, fast-handed caper story that has a million moving parts, a beautiful prestige, and a coup de grace that'll have you cheering and punching the air.

https://pluralistic.net/2024/04/09/so-meta/#delightful-doggerel

VI. Till Human Voices Wake Us by Rebecca Roque

A teen murder mystery told in the most technorealist way. Cia's best friend Alice has been trying to find her missing boyfriend for months, and in her investigation, she's discovered their small town's dark secret – a string of disappearances, deaths and fires that are the hidden backdrop to the town's out-of-control addiction problem.

Alice has something to tell Cia, something about the fire that orphaned her and cost her one leg when she was only five years old, but Cia refuses to hear it. Instead, they have a blazing fight, and part ways. It's the last time Cia and Alice ever see each other: that night, Alice kills herself.

Or does she? Cia is convinced that Alice has been murdered, and that her murder is connected to the drug- and death-epidemic that's ravaging their town. As Cia and her friends seek to discover the town's secret – and the identity of Alice's killer – we're dragged into an intense, gripping murder mystery/conspiracy story that is full of surprises and reversals, each more fiendishly clever than the last.

https://pluralistic.net/2024/04/16/dead-air/#technorealism

VII. The Steerswoman by Rosemary Kirstein

Randall "XKCD" Munroe pitched me on this over dinner: "All these different people kept recommending them to me, and they kept telling me that I would love them, but they wouldn't tell me what they were about because there's this huge riddle in them that's super fun to figure out for yourself. "The books were published in the eighties by Del Rey, and the cover of the first one had a huge spoiler on it. But the author got the rights back and she's self-published it."

How could I resist a pitch like that? So I ordered a copy. Holy moly is this a good novel! And yeah, there's a super interesting puzzle in it that I won't even hint at, except to say that even the book's genre is a riddle that you'll have enormous great fun solving.

https://pluralistic.net/2024/05/04/the-wulf/#underground-fave

VIII. Moonbound by Robin Sloan

Moonbound's protagonist is a "chronicler," a symbiotic fungus engineered to nestle in a human's nervous system, where it serves as a kind of recording angel, storing up the memories, experiences and personalities of its host. When we meet the chronicler, it has just made a successful leap from its old host – a 10,000-years-dead warrior who had been preserved in an anaerobic crashpod ever since her ship was shot out of the sky – into the body of Ariel, a 12-year-old boy who had just invaded the long-lost tomb.

This is doing fiction in hard mode, and Sloan nails it. The unraveling strangeness of Ariel's world is counterpointed with the amazing tale of the world the chronicler hails from, even as the chonicler consults with the preserved personalities of the heroes and warriors it had previous resided in and recorded.

https://pluralistic.net/2024/06/11/penumbraverse/#middle-anth

IX. Fight Me by Austin Grossman

Aging ex-teen superheroes weigh the legacy of Generation X, in a work that enrobes its savage critique with sweet melancholia, all under a coating of delicious snark. The Newcomers – an amped-up ninja warrior, a supergenius whose future self keeps sending him encouragement and technical schematics backwards through time, and an exiled magical princess turned preppie supermodel – have spent more than a decade scattered to the winds. While some have fared better than others, none of them have lived up to their potential or realized the dreams that seemed so inevitable when they were world famous supers with an entourage of fellow powered teens who worshipped them as the planet's greatest heroes.

As they set out to solve the mystery of the wizard who gave the protagonist his powers, they are reunited and must take stock of who they are and how they got there (cue Talking Heads' "Once In a Lifetime").

The publisher's strapline for this book is "The Avengers Meets the Breakfast Club," which is clever, but extremely wrong. The real comp for this book isn't "The Breakfast Club," it's "The Big Chill."

https://pluralistic.net/2024/07/01/the-big-genx-chill/#im-super-thanks-for-asking

X. Glass Houses by Madeline Ashby

Kristen is the "Chief Emotional Manager" for Wuv, a hot startup that has defined the new field of "affective computing," which is when a computer tells you what everyone else around you is really feeling, based on the irrepressible tells emitted by their bodies, voices and gadgets.

Managing Sumter through Wuv's tumultuous launch is hard work for Kristen, but at last, it's paid off. The company has been acquired, making Kristen – and all her coworkers on the founding core team – into instant millionaires. They're flying to a lavish celebration in an autonomous plane that Sumter chartered when the action begins: the plane has a malfunction and crashes into a desert island, killing all but ten of the Wuvvies.

As the survivors explore the island, they discover only one sign of human habitation: a huge, brutalist, featureless black glass house, which initially rebuffs all their efforts to enter it. But once they gain entry, they discover that the house is even harder to leave.

https://pluralistic.net/2024/08/13/influencers/#affective-computing

XI. The Sapling Cage by Margaret Killjoy

A queer coming-of-age tale in the mode of epic fantasy. Lorel wants to be a witch, but that's the very last of the adventurous trades to be strictly gender-segregated. Boys and girls alike run away to be knights, brigands and sailors, but only girls can become a witch. Indeed, Lorel's best friend, Lane, is promised to the witches, having been born to a witch herself.

Lorel has signed up for witching just as the land is turning against witches, thanks to a political plot by a scheming duchess who has scapegoated the witches as part of a plan to annex all the surrounding duchies, re-establishing the long-disintegrated kingdom with herself on the throne. To make things worse (for the witches, if not the duchess), there's a plague of monsters on the land, and the forests are blighted with a magical curse that turns trees to unmelting ice. This all softens up the peasantfolk for anti-witch pogroms.

So Lorel has to learn witching, even as her coven is fighting both monsters and the duchess's knights and the vigilante yokels who've been stirred up with anti-witch xenophobia.

https://pluralistic.net/2024/09/24/daughters-of-the-empty-throne/#witchy

XII. Blackheart Man by Nalo Hopkinson

A story that will make you drunk on language, on worldbuilding, and on its roaring, relentless plot. The action is set on Chynchin, a fantastic Caribbean island (or maybe Caribbeanesque – it's never clear whether this is some magical, imaginary world, or some distant future of our own). Chynchin is a multiracial, creole land with a richly realized gift economy that Hopkinson deftly rounds out with a cuisine, languages, and familial arrangements.

Chynchin was founded through a slave rebellion, in which the press-ganged soldiers of the iron-fisted Ymisen empire were defeated by three witches who caused them to be engulfed in tar that they magicked into a liquid state just long enough to entomb them, then magicked back into solidity. For generations, the Ymisen have tolerated Chynchin's self-rule, but as the story opens, a Ymisen armada sails into Chynchin's port and a "trade envoy" announces that it's time for the Chynchin to "voluntarily" re-establish trade with the Ymisen.

The story that unfolds is a staple of sf and fantasy: the scrappy resistance mounted against the evil empire, and this familiar backdrop is a sturdy scaffold to support Hopkinson's dizzying, phantasmagoric tale of psychedelic magic, possessed children, military intrigue, musicianship and sexual entanglements.

https://pluralistic.net/2024/08/20/piche/#cynchin

XIII. Julia by Sandra Newman

Julia is the kind of fanfic that I love, in the tradition of both The Wind Done Gone and Rosencrantz and Gildenstern Are Dead, in which a follow-on author takes on the original author's throwaway world-building with deadly seriousness, elucidating the weird implications and buried subtexts of all the stuff and people moving around in the wings and background of the original.

For Newman, the starting point here is Julia, an enigmatic lover who comes to Winston with all kinds of rebellious secrets – tradecraft for planning and executing dirty little assignations and acquiring black market goods. Julia embodies a common contradiction in the depiction of young women (she is some twenty years younger than Winston): on the one hand, she is a "native" of the world, while Winston is a late arrival, carrying around all his "oldthink" baggage that leaves him perennially baffled, terrified and angry; on the other hand, she's a naive "girl," who "doesn't much care for reading," and lacks the intellectual curiosity that propels Winston through the text.

This contradiction is the cleavage line that Newman drives her chisel into, fracturing Orwell's world in useful, fascinating, engrossing ways. Through Julia's eyes, we experience Oceania as a paranoid autocracy, corrupt and twitchy. We witness the obvious corollary of a culture of denunciation and arrest: the ruling Party of such an institution must be riddled with internecine struggle and backstabbing, to the point of paralyzed dysfunction. The Orwellian trick of switching from being at war with Eastasia to Eurasia and back again is actually driven by real military setbacks – not just faked battles designed to stir up patriotic fervor. The Party doesn't merely claim to be under assault from internal and external enemies – it actually is.

https://pluralistic.net/2024/09/28/novel-writing-machines/#fanfic

XIV. The Wilding by Ian McDonald

McDonald's first horror novel, and it's fucking terrifying. It's set in a rural Irish peat bog that has been acquired by a conservation authority that is rewilding it after a century of industrial peat mining that stripped it back nearly to the bedrock. This rewilding process has been greatly accelerated by the covid lockdowns, which reduced the human footprint in the conservation area to nearly zero.

Lisa's last duty before she leaves the bog and goes home to Dublin is leading a school group on a wild campout in one of the bog's deep clearings. It's a routine assignment, and while it's not her favorite duty, it's also not a serious hardship.

But as the group hikes out to the campsite, one of her fellow guides is killed, without warning, by a mysterious beast that moves so quickly they can barely make out its monstrous form. Thus begins a tense, mysterious, spooky as hell story of survival in a haunted woods, written in the kind of poesy that has defined McDonald's career, and which – when deployed in service of terror – has the power to raise literal goosebumps.

https://pluralistic.net/2024/10/25/bogman/#erin-go-aaaaaaargh

XV. Polostan by Neal Stephenson

Not a spy novel, but a science fiction novel about spies in an historical setting. This isn't to say that Stephenson tramples on, or ignores spy tropes: this is absolutely a first-rate spy novel. Nor does Stephenson skimp on the lush, gorgeously realized and painstakingly researched detail you'd want from an historical novel.

Polostan raises the curtain on the story of Dawn Rae Bjornberg, AKA Aurora Maximovna Artemyeva, whose upbringing is split between the American West in the early 20th century and the Leningrad of revolutionary Russia (her parents are an American anarchist and a Ukrainian Communist who meet when her father travels to America as a Communist agitator). Aurora's parents' marriage does not survive their sojourn to the USSR, and eventually Aurora and her father end up back in the States, after her father is tasked with radicalizing the veterans of the Bonus Army that occupied DC, demanding the military benefits they'd been promised.

All of this culminates in her return sojourn to the Soviet Union, where she first falls under suspicion of being an American spy, and then her recruitment as a Soviet spy.

Also: she plays a lot of polo. Like, on a horse.

https://pluralistic.net/2024/11/04/bomb-light/#nukular

NONFICTION

I. A City on Mars by Kelly and Zach Weinersmith

Biologist Kelly Weinersmith and cartoonist Zach Weinersmith set out to investigate the governance challenges of the impending space settlements they were told were just over the horizon. Instead, they discovered that humans aren't going to be settling space for a very long time, and so they wrote a book about that instead.

The Weinersmiths make the (convincing) case that every aspect of space settlement is vastly beyond our current or reasonably foreseeable technical capability. What's more, every argument in favor of pursuing space settlement is errant nonsense. And finally: all the energy we are putting into space settlement actually holds back real space science, which offers numerous benefits to our species and planet (and is just darned cool).

https://pluralistic.net/2024/01/09/astrobezzle/#send-robots-instead

II. Dark Wire by Joseph Cox

Cox spent years on the crimephone beat, tracking vendors who sold modded phones (first Blackberries, then Android phones) to criminal syndicates with the promise that they couldn't be wiretapped by law-enforcement.

He tells the story of the FBI's plan to build an incredibly secure, best-of-breed crimephone, one with every feature that a criminal would want to truly insulate themselves from law enforcement while still offering everything a criminal could need to plan and execute crimes.

This is really two incredible tales. The first is the story of the FBI and its partners as they scaled up Anom, their best-of-breed crimephone business. This is a (nearly) classic startup tale, full of all-nighters, heroic battles against the odds, and the terror and exhilaration of "hockey-stick" growth.

The other one is the crime startup, the one that the hapless criminal syndicates that sign up to distribute Anom devices find themselves in the middle of. They, too, are experiencing hockey-stick growth. They, too, have a fantastically lucrative tiger by the tail. And they, too, have a unique set of challenges that make this startup different from any other.

Cox has been on this story for a decade, and it shows. He has impeccable sourcing and encyclopedic access to the court records and other public details that allow him to reproduce many of the most dramatic scenes in the Anom caper verbatim.

https://pluralistic.net/2024/06/04/anom-nom-nom/#the-call-is-coming-from-inside-the-ndrangheta

III. The Hidden History of Walt Disney World by Foxx Nolte

No one writes about Disney theme parks like Foxx Nolte; no one rises above the trivia and goes beyond the mere sleuthing of historical facts, no one nails the essence of what makes these parks work – and fail.

The history of Walt Disney World is also a history of the American narrative from the 1960s to the turn of the millennium, especially once Epcot enters the picture and Disney sets out to market itself as a futuristic mirror to America and the world. There's a doomed plan to lead the nation in the provision of an airport for the largely hypothetical short runway aircraft that never materialized, the Disney company's love-hate affair with Florida's orange growers, and the geopolitics of installing a permanent World's Fair, just as World's Fairs were disappearing from the world stage.

In focusing on the conflicts between different corporate managers, outside suppliers, and the gloriously flamboyant weirdos of Florida, Nolte's history of Disney World transcends amusing anaecdotes and tittle-tattle – rather, it illustrates how the creative sparks thrown off by people smashing into each other sometimes created towering blazes of glory that burn to this day.

https://pluralistic.net/2024/07/15/disnefried/#dialectics

IV. Network Nation by Richard R John

An extremely important, brilliantly researched, deep history of America's love/hate affair with not just the telephone, but also the telegraph. It is unmistakably as history book, one that aims at a definitive takedown of various neat stories about the history of American telecommunications.

The monopolies that emerged in the telegraph and then the telephone weren't down to grand forces that made them inevitable, but rather, to the errors made by regulators and the successful gambits of the telecoms barons. At many junctures, things could have gone another way.

Most striking about this book were the parallels to contemporary fights over Big Tech trustbusting, in our new Gilded Age. Many of the apologies offered for Western Union or AT&T's monopoly could have been uttered by the Renfields who carry water for Facebook, Apple and Google. John's book is a powerful and engrossing reminder that variations on these fights have occurred in the not-so-distant past, and that there's much we can learn from them.

https://pluralistic.net/2024/07/18/the-bell-system/#were-the-phone-company-we-dont-have-to-care

V. A Natural History of Empty Lots by Christopher Brown

A frustratingly hard to summarize book, because it requires a lot of backstory and explanation, and one of the things that makes this book so! fucking! great! is how skillfully Brown weaves disparate elements – the unique house he built in Austin, the wildlife he encounters in the city's sacrifice zones, the politics that created them – into his telling.

This series of loosely connected essays that explains how everything fits together: colonial conquest, Brown's failed marriage, his experience as a lawyer learning property law, what he learned by mobilizing that learning to help his neighbors defend the pockets of wildness that refuse to budge.

It's filled with pastoral writing that summons Kim Stanley Robinson by way of Thoreau, and it sometimes frames its philosophical points the way a cyberpunk writer would.

The kind of book that challenges how you feel about the crossroads we're at, the place you live, and the place you want to be.

https://pluralistic.net/2024/09/17/cyberpunk-pastoralism/#time-to-mow-the-roof

GRAPHIC NOVELS

I. Death Strikes by David Maass and Patrick Lay

"The Emperor of Atlantis," is an opera written by two Nazi concentration camp inmates, the librettist Peter Kien and the composer Viktor Ullmann, while they were interned in Terezin, a show-camp in Czechoslovakia that housed numerous Jewish artists, who were encouraged to make and display their work as a sham to prove to the rest of the world that Nazi camps were humane places.

Death Strikes was adapted by my EFF colleague Dave Maass, an investigator and muckraker and brilliant writer, who teamed up with illustrator Patrick Lay and character designer Ezra Rose (who worked from Kien and Ullmann's original designs, which survived along with the score and libretto).

The Emperor's endless wars have already tried Death's patience. Death brings mercy, not vengeance, and the endless killing has dismayed him. The Emperor's co-option drives him past the brink, and Death declares a strike, breaking his sword and announcing that henceforth, no one will die.

Needless to say, this puts a crimp in the Emperor's all-out war plan. People get shot and stabbed and drowned and poisoned, but they don't die. They just hang around, embarrassingly alive (there's a great comic subplot of the inability of the Emperor's executioners to kill a captured assassin).

While this is clearly an adaptation, Kien and Ullmann's spirit of creativity, courage, and bittersweet creative ferment shines through. It's a beautiful book, snatched from death itself.

https://pluralistic.net/2024/01/23/peter-kien-viktor-ullmann/#terez

II. My Favorite Things Is Monsters Book Two by Emil Ferris

The long, long delayed sequel to the tale of Karen Reyes, a 10 year old, monster-obsessed queer girl in 1968 Chicago who lives with her working-class single mother and her older brother, Deeze, in an apartment house full of mysterious, haunted adults. There's the landlord – a gangster and his girlfriend – the one-eyed ventriloquist, and the beautiful Holocaust survivor and her jazz-drummer husband.

Ferris's storytelling style is dazzling, and it's matched and exceeded by her illustration style, which is grounded in the classic horror comics of the 1950s and 1960s. Characters in Karen's life – including Karen herself – are sometimes depicted in the EC horror style, and that same sinister darkness crowds around the edges of her depictions of real-world Chicago.

Book Two picks up from Book One's cliffhanger and then rockets forward. Everything brilliant about One is even better in Two – the illustrations more lush, the fine art analysis more pointed and brilliant, the storytelling more assured and propulsive, the shocks and violence more outrageous, the characters more lovable, complex and grotesque.

Everything about Two is more. The background radiation of the Vietnam War in One takes center stage with Deeze's machinations to beat the draft, and Deeze and Karen being ensnared in the Chicago Police Riots of '68. The allegories, analysis and reproductions of classical art get more pointed, grotesque and lavish. Annika's Nazi concentration camp horrors are more explicit and more explicitly connected to Karen's life. The queerness of the story takes center stage, both through Karen's first love and the introduction of a queer nightclub. The characters are more vivid, as is the racial injustice and the corruption of the adult world.

https://pluralistic.net/2024/06/01/the-druid/#

III. So Long Sad Love by Mirion Malle

Cleo is a French comics creator who's moved to Montreal, in part to be with Charles, a Quebecois creator who helps her find a place in the city's tight-knit artistic scene. The relationship feels like a good one, with the normal ups and downs, but then Cleo travels to a festival, where she meets Farah, a vivacious and talented fellow artist. They're getting along great…until Farah discovers who Cleo's boyfriend is. Though Farah doesn't say anything, she is visibly flustered and makes her excuses before hurriedly departing.

This kicks off Cleo's hunt for the truth about her boyfriend, a hunt that is complicated by the fact that she's so far from home, that her friends are largely his friends, that he flies off the handle every time she raises the matter, and by her love for him.

Malle handles this all so deftly, showing how Cleo and her friends all play archetypal roles in the recurrent missing stair dynamic. It's a beautifully told story, full of charm and character, but it's also a kind of forensic re-enactment of a disaster, told from an intermediate distance that's close enough to the action that we can see the looming crisis, but also understand why the people in its midst are steering straight into it.

Packed with subtlety and depth, romance and heartbreak, subtext that carries through the dialog (in marvelous translation from the original French by Aleshia Jensen) and the body language in Malle's striking artwork.

https://pluralistic.net/2024/06/25/missing-step/#the-fog-of-love

IV. Bea Wolf by Zach Wienersmith and Boulet

A ferociously amazingly great illustrated kids' graphic novel adaptation of the Old English epic poem, which inspired Tolkien, who helped bring it to popularity after it had languished in obscurity for centuries.

Weinersmith and Boulet set themselves the task of bringing a Germanic heroic saga from more than a thousand years ago to modern children, while preserving the meter and the linguistic and literary tropes of the original. And they did it!

There are some changes, of course. Grendel – the boss monster that both Beowulf and Bea Wulf must defeat – is no longer obsessed with decapitating his foes and stealing their heads. In Bea Wulf, Grendel is a monstrously grown up and boring adult who watches cable news and flosses twice per day, and when he defeats the kids whose destruction he is bent upon, he does so by turning them into boring adults, too.

The utter brilliance of Bea Wulf is as much due to the things it preserves from the original epic as it is to the updates and changes. Weinersmith has kept the Old English tradition of alliteration, right from the earliest passages, with celebrations of heroes like "Tanya, treat-taker, terror of Halloween, her costume-cache vast, sieging kin and neighbor, draining full candy-bins, fearing not the fate of her teeth. Ten thousand treats she took. That was a fine Tuesday."

https://pluralistic.net/2024/06/24/awesome-alliteration/#hellion-hallelujah

V. Youth Group by Bowen McCurdy and Jordan Morris

A charming tale of 1990s ennui, cringe Sunday School – and demon hunting.

Kay is a bitter, cynical teenager who's doing her best to help her mother cope with an ugly divorce that has seen her dad check out on his former family. Mom is going back to church, and she talks Kay into coming along with her to attend the church youth group.

But this is no ordinary youth group. Kay's ultra-boring suburban hometown is actually infested with demons who routinely possess the townspeople, and that baseline of demonic activity has suddenly gone critical, with a new wave of possessions. Suddenly, the possessed are everywhere – even Kay's shitty dad ends up with a demon inside of him.

That's when Kay discovers that the youth group and its corny pastor are also demon hunters par excellence. Their rec-rooms sport secret cubbies filled with holy weapons, and the words of exorcism come as readily to them as any embarrassing rewritten devotional pop song. Kay's discovery of this secret world convinces her that the youth group isn't so bad after all, and soon she is initiated into its mysteries, including the existence of rival demon-hunting kids from the local synagogue, Catholic church, and Wiccan coven.

https://pluralistic.net/2024/07/16/satanic-panic/#the-dream-of-the-nineties

VI. Justice Warriors: Vote Harder by Matt Bors and Ben Clarkson

Vote Harder sees Bubble City facing its first election in living memory, as the mayor – who inherited his position from his "powerful, strapping Papa" – loses a confidence vote by the city's trustees. They're upset with his plan to bankrupt the city in order to buy a laser powerful enough to carve his likeness into the sun as a viral stunt for the launch of his comeback album. The trustees are in no way mollified by the fact that he expects to make a lot of money selling special branded sunglasses that allow Bubble City (and the mutant hordes of the Uninhabited Zone) to safely look into the sun and see what their tax dollars bought.

So it's time for an election, and the two candidates are going hard: there's the incumbent Mayor Prince; there's his half-sister and ex-girlfriend, Stufina Vipix XII, and there's a dark-horse candidate Flauf Tanko, a mutant-tank cyborg that went rogue after a militant Home Owners Association disabled it and its owners abandoned it. Flauf-Tanko is determined to give the masses of the Uninhabited Zone the representation they've been denied for so long, despite the structural impediments to this (UZers need to complete a questionnaire, sub-forms, have three forms of ID, and present a rental contract, drivers license, work permit and breeding license. They also need to get their paperwork signed in person at a VERI-VOTE location, then wait 14 days to get their voter IDs by mail. Also, districts of 2 million or more mutants are allocated the equivalent of only 250,000 votes, but only if 51% of eligible voters show up to the polls; otherwise, their votes are parceled out to other candidates per the terms of the Undervoting and Apathy Allotment Act).

What unfolds is a funny, bitter, superb piece of political satire that could not be better timed.

https://pluralistic.net/2024/09/11/uninhabited-zone/#eremption-season

As I mentioned in the introduction to this roundup, I had three books out in 2024; a new hardcover, and the paperback editions of two books that came out in hardcover last year. There's more on the horizon – a new hardcover novel (PICKS AND SHOVELS) in Feb 2025, along with the paperback of my novel THE BEZZLE (also Feb 2025). I just turned in the manuscript for my next nonfiction book, ENSHITTIFICATION, which will also be adapted as a graphic novel. I'll also be shortly announcing the publication details for a YA graphic novel, a new essay collection and short story collection.

If you enjoy my work – the newsletter, the talks, the reviews – the best way to support me is to buy my books. I write for grownups, teens, middle-schoolers and little kids, so there's something for everyone!

I. The Lost Cause A solarpunk novel of hope in the climate emergency. "The first great YIMBY novel" -Bill McKibben. "Completely delightful…Neither utopian nor dystopian…I loved it" -Rebecca Solnit. A national bestseller!

https://us.macmillan.com/books/9781250865946/thelostcause/

II. The Internet Con: How to Seize the Means of Computation A detailed disassembly manual for people who want to dismantle Big Tech. "A passionate case for 'relief from manipulation, high-handed moderation, surveillance, price-gouging, disgusting or misleading algorithmic suggestions. -Akash Kapur, New Yorker. Another national bestseller!

https://www.versobooks.com/products/3035-the-internet-con

III. The Bezzle. A seething rebuke of the privatized prison system that delves deeply into the arcane and baroque financial chicanery involved in the 2008 financial crash. "Righteously satisfying…A fascinating tale of financial skullduggery, long cons, and the delivery of ice-cold revenge." –Booklist. A third national bestseller!

https://us.macmillan.com/books/9781250865878/thebezzle/