#i think the thing that sticks with me most despite not being an especially observant catholic and indeed a disillusioned one

[shredsandpatches]

*flailing wildly*

(source)

[1d1195]

Most VII

Read Most here | ~5.8k words

From me: Last part! (for now) I hope you like it. Thank you for sticking with it--I don't think it was very popular after all the additional parts, so I appreciate all of you for letting me finish it.

Warnings: angst but fluff. Probably need so suspend your belief a bit more (especially if you don't believe in soulmates)

Summary: She's safe. He's safe. There's nothing left to do but talk.

Harry didn’t let go of her when they put her in the ambulance. He held onto her hand the entire time. Nor when they put an oxygen mask on her beautiful face. He didn’t let go of her for one second when they arrived at the hospital.

Honestly, she couldn’t complain. She was tired. Exhausted, really. Her only other thought outside of her own traumatization of the day was that poor Harry had to be just as drained (or more) after being awake for over thirty-six hours—maybe even longer. But his hand squeezed hers while they looked her over. She held another oxygen mask over her mouth and inhaled deeply, repeatedly while Harry sat beside her on the little exam bed. It felt like she was breathing in the freshest air in the middle of the forest. But a huge part of her believed the same result would have been achieved if she hid her face in Harry’s shirt the way she wanted to and breathed in the same manner she was breathing with an oxygen mask.

“Are you feeling, okay?” The doctors asked her so many times while they ran tests and Harry seemed to hold his breath each time, like it would suddenly change.

“I’m really scared,” she admitted finally looking away from Harry’s worried eyes. “I’m so worried something’s wrong and I’m not going to notice,” her voice cracked. Harry squeezed her hand and watched her anxiously. Somehow, his smile was encouraging. But she wasn’t sure he fully believed it.

“You’re okay, baby,” he whispered quietly. But she saw it in his eyes. If he could swap places with her right then, he would have. After everything she put him through, he would still save her and take all the pain.

“I know,” the doctor looked her over sympathetically. “But I promise, I thoroughly checked everything. Your heart is strong. The oxygen is helping for sure. But to be sure, we want to keep you overnight for observation just to make sure... perhaps your boyfriend can grab you some of your belongings—”

“That’s okay,” she could see Harry was surprised to hear her say it and not himself. “I don’t want him to leave me.”

Harry thought his heart was going to break again. The word boyfriend didn’t deter her. It felt like part of his life snapped back into place. He thought the magnetic field had realigned the day he saw her in traffic, but it felt like the tilt of the earth finally righted itself to the correct position. This was it. Everything was back to normal.

At least as far as his heart was concerned.

He squeezed her hand reassuringly. “Right,” the doctor smiled. Like she already knew of their love story by just looking at them. “Well... make yourselves comfortable, then.”

There was very little Harry could do about her fear. So if it was the only thing he could do, Harry was going to ensure she was comfortable.

*

He made her laugh like he used to. Part of him worried it wasn’t good for her achy, smoky lungs, but it didn’t matter. He loved to chat with her. Harry’s fingers never released hers. But to be fair, hers didn’t let go of his either. Not even though she was certain they were a bit cramped, and her mind worried that Harry was uncomfortable situated in the chair beside the bed. Their only reprieve was using the restroom. But then it was right back to interlocked fingers and the warmth of their palms slipping alongside one another.

He loved her so painfully much. He hoped it was enough.

The hours crept by. The fire, the waiting for an ambulance, their time in the ER, the admittance to a room, it all ticked by slowly and anxiously for the pair of them. But despite how it played out, she got her time after Harry’s shift to talk with him the way he wanted—the way she wanted. They talked for so long, the sun set across the room turning Harry’s skin into this beautiful golden shade that made him look utterly gorgeous. Like a painting in the finest museums in the world. But his eyes stayed on her the entire duration of the sunset.

Once the sun was down and the only light they had was from the bathroom, (because the fluorescents were so harsh and headache inducing for the two of them long term) Harry started to yawn and seemed to continue yawning for minutes on end.

That was when she finally remembered time existed. Time ceased to have meaning while she was with Harry. That time was spent putting their lives back together piece by piece; filling in gaps they didn’t know they were missing but belonged to the parts of each other they had shared with one another ages ago—before they even started dating. When fate decided they were soulmates and they didn’t have a choice in the matter.

By that time, the clock read just past nine when she noticed his yawns were becoming more frequent. She had been pulling the oxygen mask off and on for hours. Seeing his droopy eyes made her ache for something she hadn’t had in years. He was always beautiful and perfect, but something about sleepy, vulnerable Harry made her feel like she could protect him the way he always protected her.

“C’mere,” she wiggled backwards on the small twin hospital bed. She turned on her side to create more space for him. “I think I smell all smoky,” she warned.

Normally, Harry thought he would protest. She needed the rest. She was the one that inhaled all that smoke and Harry hogging her bed with his tall frame wasn’t needed. But his body ached to be closer to her. Closer than the space between her on the bed and him keeping vigil in the chair pulled close allowed. “Think I do too,” he shrugged. They both smelled like smoke. But Harry was certain if he could get close enough, she would smell like herself too; floral, warm, and just her. Like home.

Carefully, Harry slid onto the bed with her. Their legs touched. Thigh to thigh, knee to knee, foot to foot. He placed a hand on her hip pulling her lower half toward him and leaving a space between their torsos so he could look at her perfect, beautiful face.

They fit like puzzle pieces on her small mattress. The reasoning for her hospital visit wasn’t something he would want in a thousand years, but it was almost how he imagined sleeping on her bed in her dorm. Replacing a piece of something he missed out on.

She rested one hand on his ribs, right over his T-shirt. He thought he had died—the feel of her hand on his body was warm and overwhelming. For several moments, they just stared at each other. Like Harry was worried she would disappear again. “The doctor called me your boyfriend,” he whispered eventually.

She nodded. Her cheeks turned pink. “Sorry... I...” she swallowed. “I didn’t know what to say.”

It was starting to get quiet; hospital visiting hours were long over. There was no more chatter coming from other rooms. There was only the sound of beeping machines, the nurses, doctors, and others bustling outside her door. Their gentle breaths mixing together between them.

“Kitten,” he swallowed the lump in his throat. “Are y’going t’leave me again?” His voice was low, and he hated asking the question because he thought it would upset her. Though it pained him, he needed to know. It was a risk he had to take; making her feel bad. Even if it hurt both of them.

She shook her head immediately. She drew in a deep breath and dropped her forehead forward to his chest and released the air in her lungs. “I won’t live, Harry.”

His lips quirked up into a sympathetic smile. “Think y’would, kitten,” he remarked sadly. “Y’did before.”

She shook her head again. “That wasn’t living, baby,” she murmured.

He closed his eyes and brought her hand to his mouth. “I love you so much. When y’say baby, s’like m’home. I haven’t been home kitten, not without you. Feels like I’ve been nowhere.”

“I thought nowhere was home,” she whispered, a smile in her voice.

When he opened his eyes, she was watching him. She reached for the oxygen mask again, not wanting to interrupt their moment of quiet longing, but immediately he helped her with it. He cupped her cheek around the mask and brushed his thumb along her cheek. “Why would y’listen t’her?”

She dropped her gaze. She was ashamed of herself. Listening to someone who was supposed to be her friend instead of just asking Harry what he was feeling. “I don’t know... She made sense at the time. Sometimes I think she still does... I mean don’t you want more, Harry? What if there is more out there for you than what I can offer? I couldn’t have imagined you up if I tried... but you? You always deserved more than—”

“No,” he shook his head refusing to let her short herself any longer of all the beauty she possessed, all the love, and kindness that she exuded. His hand held her cheek and he skimmed his thumb along cheekbone. “There’s no more, kitten. You’re the most. You, m’love, you are the only thing that exists for me. I’m so sorry y’were alone and felt like y’weren’t enough. You have always been more than enough. The most I could ever need. I’ve… I’ve never been so lost; I can’t imagine how y’felt.”

She turned her face toward his hand, lifted the mask so she could kiss his palm. “Why did you wait for me?” She whispered.

“Because you’re m’soulmate, kitten.”

“But... you don’t believe in those,” she whispered repeating her same statement from last night. It wasn’t something she ever dwelled on. She understood why he didn’t believe in them. Even if it was silly. But maybe it was the little bit of water that dripped into her head and watered the seed that Lauren had planted in her head a few years ago. It wasn’t his fault. Realistically, plenty of people didn’t believe in soulmates.

He shook his head, shrugged. But his eyes didn’t move from hers. “I believe you’re mine, baby.”

Her lower lip wobbled, and tears filled her vision. “I’m sorry,” she whispered. “I’m so sorry Harry,” her voice broke on every syllable. “I thought if I told you... you would convince me to stay. Then I thought staying would just make you resent me because you never got a chance to... this way... I don’t know... it’s like I’m here now, yeah? And I know now—but I should have known then, right? God Harry, this is so fucked. I fucked up so bad and—” now her monitor displayed an increased heartrate, and her breath was shallow—like she was starting to hyperventilate. So much so that Harry put the mask back over her mouth and shushed her soothingly. He stroked the remainder of her face gently with the back of his hand while her eyes wildly flitted over his face.

“You’re here now,” he told her after the heart monitor read a normal level. “And I’m never letting you get away. Never ever again.” Sighing, she closed her eyes and pressed her forehead against his chest once more. He kissed the top of her hair and just enjoyed the feeling of her in his arms. The way he dreamed of feeling her. “Gemma actually told me that—”

A spike in her monitor. “Oh my God, she’s going to hate me forever,” she cried, voice breaking. “I should have stayed away,” she moaned. He pulled the oxygen mask away and kissed her softly. It felt so normal. As everything he had felt since he started seeing her these last couple weeks. Touching her, seeing her, hearing her, all of it felt like no time had passed.

When he pulled away, his lips missing the way hers felt against his, her heart rate was steady again. Her cheeks flushed and Harry thought she tasted like smoke, but she still tasted like her too. “Baby, she does not hate you. No one hates you. I’ll make sure of it,” he assured her. “I wish y’told me, but s’not your fault.”

“You’re way too forgiving,” she grumbled.

“God, for you?” He chuckled and kissed the bridge of her nose. “I was going t’tell you that Gem won’t hate you. She said she knew y’were coming back.”

“How could she have possibly known that?”

Harry shrugged nonchalantly. “She said she felt it. She jus’ knew.” There was a prolonged moment of silence while she thought that over. While Harry continued to touch her face as if it was the only thing he was born to do.

“Wish she clued me in,” she grumbled.

He laughed quietly again.

*

When the clock read midnight, it was even quieter in the hospital room. The gentle beeping of machines started to sound like a lullaby. They had stopped talking a long time ago, but they didn’t fall asleep. It felt like making up for lost time. Harry was analyzing her face. Her pores were filled with smoke and Harry inspected the bits of glass that managed to cut her palms from her crawling to safety. He kissed her softly across her pretty face. Like a reminder to himself that she was real and tangible. His lips made a home against her temple. A spot he loved to leave his mouth pressed against—like it was home while her lips were busy.

She was weaning off the oxygen, letting a little under an hour pass in between her use of it. “Hi,” she whispered softly.

He smiled. “Hi,” he dragged his nose along her hairline and dropped a kiss to the crown of her head. She fiddled with the fabric of his shirt, right near his collar.

“What did you do while I was gone?” Her voice was quiet. Fading with sleepiness. Harry may have even blinked his eyes closed for a short nap a couple hours prior, but he was content to just stare at her. Ensure that she wasn’t going to leave again.

He trailed his fingers along the side of her face, through the bit of hair that rested against her head along the pillow. He smiled. Smiled more than he thought was possible because at the time he thought his hobby was so dumb. Felt like he was going to die most days without her because she was fresh air and his little ways of keeping himself entertained were hardly a replacement for how she would have fit into his life so effortlessly.

Now... now it seemed like the most important thing he had ever done, and it wasn’t that he had to tell her about it because she asked, he needed to tell her. “I... I got... really into carpentry.”

She snorted; a laugh followed immediately. Arguably the most beautiful sound Harry knew. “Shut up.”

“No... like...” he started to laugh with her. “Like... really into it. Made Mum a bit crazy at times, I think,” he tilted his head back. “Made tables, chairs... I fixed door frames and did trim...”

“Stop, I can’t breathe,” she laughed. The kind of laughter she felt with Addie that night they became best friends. Back when she thought she would never laugh again. “Why?” She covered her face with her hand to stifle her giggles. But Harry made her laugh like it was nothing. As if he made her laugh every day that he wasn’t around her.

He shook his head. “I don’t know...” her laugh was infectious. It made him happy to hear it and he had no choice but to laugh just as hard. “I really don’t. I feel like I should be sad telling y’about it. But I loved it. So, so much.”

“What was your favorite thing to make?”

“Chairs.”

“I think this might be worse than the smoke inhalation,” she laughed again, becoming breathless but Harry didn’t mind this kind of breathlessness. Plus, they still had her oxygen mask. Harry thought it might have been, in the very smallest of ways, good that she left if it made her laugh like this.

Eventually, her laughter died down. There was another bout of quiet for a few moments longer. Then finally Harry asked. “What did y’do?”

Harry was watching her, wiping the tears that came from her heavy laughter from the corners of her eyes. He kissed her forehead again. “I knitted.”

“What?”

“I knitted.”

“Knitted what?”

“Oh my God, Harry. Everything.” It was his turn to laugh, thinking of her surrounded with yarn, covered with yarn. Her bed and desk covered with needles, sweaters, hats, mittens.

“Y’jus’ turned into a little old grandma?” He snorted.

“Yeah, I guess,” she giggled. The clock read two in the morning. She tried to calculate it in her head, but Harry had to have been awake for nearly forty-eight hours at that point. He grabbed the oxygen mask and placed it over her mouth. They were quiet while she took in the pure air. Harry pushed her hair behind her head and trailed his fingers over her cheek.

“Do y’feel okay?” He asked.

She nodded. He put it aside again after a few moments and he kissed her forehead. “What did you miss most about me?” She whispered.

The feeling of longing overtook his body. It was so hard to imagine he had been without her for so long. When they fit together like they did on the little bed, when they sounded like happiness when they laughed together. It wasn’t just missing her. It was agony without her. Like she had taken his heart with her. “Everything, kitten,” he shook his head. “I missed everything ‘bout you.”

She sighed, looked at his chest, outlined the cross below his shirt. It was still covered in smoke and soot from carrying her out. “No, but...” she smiled softly. “Like materially—what did you miss?”

The air felt lighter and maybe she already knew he missed everything about her. The reprieve of seriousness felt a little better. There would be ample time to hash out details regarding how serious it was. How she was to never believe another person about his love for her that wasn’t him (or someone completely vetted like Louis or Sarah). “Oh,” he paused. “Those cheesy potatoes y’make for parties.”

Her laugh made him feel like he could do impossible things. It easily could have been the thing he missed most. “I’ll make them as soon as I get my hands on a kitchen.”

“Oh, baby, you are going t’make me cry,” he squeezed her and kissed the top of her head. “Did y’miss anything ‘bout me?” He asked.

“Harry,” she sighed, nosed at his chest. “Wasn’t just anything. It was everything.”

It felt like his heart was smiling. He tilted her head up and gazed into her eyes. “I meant materially,” he smirked taking her own joke.

Without hesitation, she answered. “I haven’t had my back properly cracked in three years.”

“God, I fucking love you,” he whispered.

She giggled. “I love you too,” she responded. She grabbed his cheeks, kissed his lips long enough to make him think his heart might stop, and then dropped her head back to his chest.

An undeterminable amount of time passed again. There was no more chatting or kissing. It was just nearly pathetic staring; gazing at one another waiting for the other to disappear like a mirage they didn’t know they were seeing. But her eyes drooped lower and Harry yawned. The clock read shortly after two thirty. “We should sleep.”

He shook his head, worry set deep in his eyes that she wished she could rip out and throw away. “M’afraid s’a dream.”

She frowned. “I really hope it’s not.”

He smiled, comforted by the fact the feeling was mutual. “If this is a dream,” he started. “Can y’do me a favor?” He asked. She nodded, waited. “Can y’come home t’me?”

“Yes,” she answered immediately then tucked herself further into his embrace. “As soon as I wake up,” she promised.

He smiled, kissed the top of her head again and gently rubbed a circle on her cheek with his thumb. “Hey, kitten?”

“Yeah?”

“I love you,” he reminded her.

“God Harry, I love you so much.”

Then, because there was truly nothing else that they could say of the last forty-eight hours, they fell asleep.

*

They woke up to the door slamming open against the hospital wall. Harry squeezed her protectively and her heart clenched at the motion. The clock read eleven AM exactly.

Which meant it was officially visiting hours and the first people in the room were Addie and Carter. “Move,” Addie physically pulled Harry off the bed. “You’ve had her long enough now,” she winked at her as she took his spot and kissed her forehead. Harry snorted and then laughed because Harry could never believe such a thing. He could have had her all those three years, every single day, and he would never have enough time with her. “You’re an idiot,” Addie whispered loudly so everyone could hear her say it.

Carter ignored Addie, leaned over and kissed the top of her head. “Hey Gorgeous,” he smiled giving her shoulder a squeeze. “You didn’t need to do all this to get us to visit.”

She was groggy with sleep and anxiety. “What are you guys doing here?”

“Harry called us,” Addie wiped the soot from beneath her eyes because it was still caked into her pores. At the same time, the room filled with their remaining friends. There were balloons and flowers, a massive teddy bear.

“Aw, you didn’t bring coffee?” She frowned then winked in fake disappointment.

“Oh,” Harry cleared his throat. “We can’t go to the coffee shop on Main anymore.”

She frowned immediately. This one was not fake. “How come?”

Sarah made eye contact with Harry and had a whole conversation with him just using her eyes. “I knew it,” she mumbled.

Harry scuffed his foot along the floor ignoring Sarah’s quip. “The owners of the coffee shop own the apartment building. S’a whole scandal,” he explained. Which was in part truth. He took a phone call in the early morning from the fire chief while she was fast asleep against his chest. The building was condemned and everything inside it was lost. “Insurance fraud,” he explained simply.

“Jesus,” Niall blinked rubbing a hand over his face. “Bet you’re glad y’storage unit was delayed, now, huh princess?” He smiled sympathetically.

“Oh my God, your notebooks,” Addie whispered realizing how right Niall was.

The heart monitor betrayed her with a small spike and alarm. She swallowed nervously, blushed as everyone looked at her. “Burnt toast, I guess.”

“Grim, babe,” Louis snorted making everyone laugh.

“No, it’s a theory,” she rolled her eyes. “If you burn your toast, it means you have to make new toast. Saves you from a car accident or from being in a place you’re not supposed to be at a specific time. Or you’re the fifth person in line that morning and you get a free coffee.”

“Burnt toast,” he repeated. “Well, I have saved my own life a lot of times then,” he chuckled.

“I think the three toasters you’ve killed would disagree,” Eleanor smiled.

“Are you feeling okay?” Carter asked.

She bit her lip. “I think so... I’m pretty sure I’m going to be allowed to leave soon...but I really need a shower. I wish I had some clothes to—”

“Way ahead of you,” Sarah grabbed the duffle bag Mitch had on his shoulder. He gave her a wink. “Harry thought you might want to be rid of smoky clothes and hair.”

She thought it would be too much to say Harry was her hero in front of their friends. So she would tell him later. Repeatedly.

*

“What are you going to do?” Addie asked as she signed the discharge papers. Her hair was air drying; her skin was less smoky. She watched the black water swirl into the drain during her much-needed shower and with it rid herself of the traumatic day

“I don’t know,” she sighed, laying the pen flat on the clipboard. Addie was seated beside her, not an inch of space between them. “Any chance you and Carter wouldn’t mind your old roommate?” She asked with a smile.

“Oh, you’ve got to be joking,” Addie rolled her eyes. “You’re not seriously going to move back with us after all this?” She asked.

“Addie,” she whispered hoping no one heard her. It seemed they hadn’t as the rest of the group was gathering all the items they had lugged in only a couple hours prior. Harry was getting off the phone near the window. Carter was reentering the room with Mitch; carrying two trays of coffee and bags of food filled the room with the most enticing smells of breakfast sandwiches and espresso. “I don’t really know what else to—”

“Harry!” Addie smiled delightedly hopping off the bed and hurrying to Harry’s side. He was off the phone and in the middle of a conversation with Niall.

“Addison!” She shouted, voice breaching hysterical immediately. She hopped off the bed and yanked her back away from Harry as quickly as she could. “Don’t you dare,” she hissed.

“Ow!” Addie pulled her arm from her. “Harry, I hate to put you on the spot like this—”

“Addie, I swear to God!”

“—but I am rather enjoying walking around the apartment naked with my boyfriend and would love to continue such. Is there anyway—”

“Addison,” Carter chuckled, prying her fingertips from Addie’s arm. “She’s going to stop breathing if you—”

“—you have room in your house for a roommate?”

She slapped a hand over her eyes and felt embarrassment curl through her. “Your girlfriend is a pain in the ass,” she whispered to Carter.

“I know, it’s the best,” he winked even though she couldn’t see it.

“Oh... um... I jus’ got off the moving company t’move your storage pod t’my place,” Harry sounded a little uncomfortable. Awkward. “It’ll be a couple days, but they’ll do it,” she peeked from between her fingers at his face. It was slightly flushed, embarrassed. “If that’s too much though... Niall was jus’ saying y’could have his one-bedroom ‘til y’figure out—”

“She’ll stay with you!” Addie chirped excitedly.

Harry chuckled. “Addie,” he smiled appreciatively. “I want her t’be comfortable.”

She shoved her toward him with so much force Harry had to hold her to keep her from falling unsteadily. “I can’t imagine a place—no, an entire universe—where she would be more comfortable,” Addie assured him.

“That’s a lot to spring on someone, Addie,” she snapped, glaring at her; her face half covered from where she had buried it into Harry’s fresh T-shirt brought along with new belongings for her as well.

“I don’t mind, kitten,” he kissed the top of her head encouragingly. “Was going t’suggest it as we walked out.”

*

They all gathered in front of the hospital. Planning their next stop. “I uh...” she shook her head. “I gotta make a lot of phone calls.”

“Can we meet up for dinner?” Carter suggested.

Everyone nodded, full of smiles and excitement. “Do you guys need help back to your hotel?” Louis asked.

“You guys got a hotel? You should have stayed with us!” Sarah frowned.

As the plans were discussed, Addie gave her a huge hug, kissed the side of her head then pulled away and looked at her. She was tired, probably still filled with a bit of smoke, but Addie thought she looked more like the picture still on her fridge than she had the entire time she’d known her.

“I’m so proud of you for jumping,” Addie bloomed with pride which made her cheeks flush pink.

“Shut. Up,” Eleanor laughed.

“Of course you read that,” Sarah rolled her eyes and shook her head.

“Oh man,” Niall groaned. “What was it? Three months?”

“That’s generous. Maybe one month,” Mitch was scrolling on his phone. “Last message I have about it is a month and a half ago,” he held it up for proof.

“It was extremely well written,” Harry grumbled bitterly.

“What was well written?” Carter asked winking at her. Addie for once was silent. Watching her carefully for her reaction which was currently stoically still.

“Harry, who has never picked up a magazine a day in his life,” Eleanor explained to Carter. “Was at the doctor’s office. Losing his mind as he always was and decided to leaf through one of the magazines on the coffee table in the waiting room.”

“He then proceeded to read us the article no less than twenty times in a row and explain everything he thought about it. How it reminded him of you. How he wanted to jump so badly and reset everything in his life,” Niall completed.

She turned to look at Harry; head tilted curiously. A pucker between her eyebrows as she examined him like she was seeing him for the first time.

“It sounded like you,” his cheeks turned pink. “M’sorry, kitten; it was jus’... so good. Sounded like something you would ramble about and then scribble down during a rainstorm. It reminded me so much of you... s’like I had something t’hold onto.”

Carter snickered watching the panic on her face ensue.

“Well, Harry. I’ll tell you why it reminded you so much of her. But you already figured it out.”

She looked at her feet, face burning with embarrassment that another six people knew some of her most inner thoughts. Her anonymity for something that broke her to write because she missed Harry wasn’t a full secret anymore.

The group remained quiet. Silent except for cars rolling through the parking lot as everyone processed what Addie said.

“You’re joking,” Eleanor whispered finally. “You... you wrote that?”

“She did,” Carter smiled. “In our English class. Addie insisted she publish it.”

“You used a pen name?” Niall asked. She nodded silently, embarrassed that they had read arguably one of her most personal ideas. “Wow,” he whispered. “What are the chances?”

“I told all of you,” Harry wrapped his arm around her tighter. Probably tighter than someone with worry about their lungs needed to be held, but he kissed the top of her hair once more. “I knew it was you,” he whispered in her ear.

“It’s framed in his house,” Louis said. “That is insane.”

“Soulmate stuff, I guess,” she shrugged, cheeks still tinted red. But the only person who heard was Harry. Which was really how she meant it to be anyway.

*A few days later*

“Jesus Christ,” she snapped and dropped the end of the couch to the storage pod floor again. Harry ran to her side and pulled her hand from her mouth to examine her injured index finger.

“I thought y’were kidding,” he smirked. “Some magnet y’got in there,” he pressed his lips against her digit and then her forehead.

She shook her head. “It’s ridiculous!” she frowned.

“I got it, love. You shouldn’t be lifting anything heavy anyway,” Mitch reminded her and put a hand on her shoulder as he gently nudged the pair of them out of the way. Niall winked at her as he lifted the other end while Harry examined the small puncture wound as seriously as if she had split her aorta right in front of him.

Quietly, they were alone while their friends moved all her stuff into Harry’s little house. Sarah and Eleanor distracted Mrs. Peterson while the boys moved the heavy stuff. And Harry just looked at her finger. “Are you sure about this?” She whispered.

“Please don’t make me beg,” he murmured. “I will,” he nodded. “I’ll beg and scream and fight if y’want me to,” he squeezed her hand and dropped it between them and smiled at her. “But I don’t want to.”

She smiled back, squeezed his hand, and stepped closer to him. He wrapped his arm around the top of her shoulders. Gently, she shook her head, dropped her head against the front of his shoulder. “No... I don’t want that. I’m just... it’s a lot. I’ve only been in town three weeks,” she reminded him.

“But baby,” he sighed, kissed her temple. The way he spoke made her sleepy. The way he held her made her feel so safe—like she could fall asleep standing right next to him.

It would take a bit of work. Reassurance that she was enough. Part of him felt guilty that he hadn’t clued her in on that fact long before. It seemed like it was known. The two of them fit so completely together he never thought he would need to remind her that she was enough. More than enough. More than he could ever dream of or want.

But he would do it. They were together. He would reassure her every day. He would try his hand at poetry if he needed to do it. If it meant that she would stay and not worry.

Harry met her gaze, held it for so long part of her really wondered if she had fallen asleep. “You’re home.”

And she saw it all. Always had. She saw their friends hosting or coming to cookouts with little ones that would expand their little friend circle. She saw Harry carrying her to bed because she refused to fall asleep in the bedroom without him while his shift wasn’t over. She saw the books and pens and notebooks that he would buy for her even though she was certain she wouldn’t fill them all (even if she did).  She saw the little ones that had Harry’s green eyes and his perfect curls. She hoped they’d get his dimples and his kindness. The world deserved more Harry. There would be too many wooden chairs that Harry would make, and she would help stain, for them to put in their yard. There was everything in her little vision. All centered around the most perfect person she knew. The person she was lucky to call her soulmate. Even after all that time.

If it all was a dream like Harry had suggested in the hospital, then it was worth it, because the moment she woke up she would run back to him. She would beg and scream and fight if she needed to.

Because this was everything. It was more than she could ever want.

“Do you mean, I’m home? Like I’m at home or I am home. Like home is me?” She asked.

“You already know the answer t’that, my love.”

It was the most she would ever need.

--

general taglist: @justlemmeadoreyou @daydreamingofmatilda @sunshinemoonsposts @loving-hazz @likeapplejuicenpeach

@straightontilmornin @freedomfireflies @littlenatilda @kathb59 @babegoals

@angel-upon @lilfreakjez @mleestiles @ameliaalvarez06 @canyonmoondreams

@summertime-pills @daphnesutton @l4rrysh0use @perfectywrong @foreverxholland

@lovrave @st-ev-ie @pandeebearstyles @toosarcastic03 @luvonstyles

@tenaciousperfectionunknown @classychalamet @love-letters-to-uranus @emmaawbr @crossyourpeter

@kissinthekitchen @kittenhere @stylesfever @indierockgirrl @michellekstyles

@just-another-reader1098 @hermionelove @tiredinwinter @whimsy-willows @hannah9921

@fangirl7060 @triski73 @vikiii07 @prettygurl-2009 @madstyles3204

@angeldavis777

most: @harryspirate

I'm sorry if I missed anyone in the taglist. Please let me know if you'd like to join, if it didn't work, if you no longer want to be included, etc. :)

If you like this, check out my masterlist here

[itspileofgoodthings]

Also it’s really fascinating because in a certain way Austen finds the trope of redemption through romance/good girl fixes bad boy dead but in an even realer way Henry is just the wrong candidate for it. Or, to be even more accurate, the setup of Henry and Fanny is the wrong match for it and that’s what makes it funny. The truth is that Henry objectifies her, NOT physically. His appreciation of her beauty is hands down the most romantic thing he feels for her but he objectifies her morals and her goodness, in essence: her character. He, and in a different but equally real way Mary treat Fanny like a doll and every time she does something of quality they react with surprise and delight as if a doll had done it. The fact that the surprise and delight are genuine makes it worse because it’s even more objectifying. They’re like “look at the doll speak! The doll said something incisive and profound! The doll doesn’t even know of what quality she is made because she’s so simple! Noble simplicity!” And it is objectively condescending and—not to beat a dead horse here!!!— truly objectifying. They both see and sense her superiority to the rest of Mansfield but that doesn’t mean that they treat her like a person. Henry makes much of her, refuses to listen to what she actually wants, enlists Sir Thomas against her, feels no scruple whatsoever about putting pressure on her, and doesn’t know her well enough to know that she does “know her own mind” despite not knowing her own manner. He’s also the wrong candidate for this trope because he’s too knowing and observant. He KNOWS he’s in the trope. He’s kind of like “hmmm Fanny redeeming me, Fanny changing me, wow, love to consider it from a moral aesthetic point of view, what a flower in her cap that would be and how it would stick it to the rest of the Mansfield crew” and so he’s not set up to be surprised or charmed into compassion and real love 1) because he’s self-aware of the good it would do him and 2) because he gets ahead of the good by manipulating it for his own schemes. Alleviating boredom/sticking it to Mansfield and co. being the two main ones for as far as I can tell. He even knows that if he just waits, if he just holds out that “absence, time, and distance,” as he says, will speak for him. Will clear his way. Will work on Fanny’s heart. Because it IS a powerful trope for a reason! And especially if Edmund was out of the picture re: Mary what else would there be for her to do? But that’s the thing. He SEES the truth of it and sees the inevitability of it but only because he’s thinking of this in terms of winning—winning her, but also just winning at the scheme, pulling the con. True love doesn’t do that. The absence, time, and distance of which he’s speaking would be enacted by someone with a loving heart in such a different way because it would just be the simple act of compassion and not wanting to trouble the beloved that would be the motivator. It would be Darcy going back to his normal life after the Hunsford proposal with no intention of winning Lizzy back or determination to pursue her or need to clarify anything past the letter but still with love in his heart for her. Henry doesn’t have that love and never did and so cannot be changed by it. He plays the stakes of it all like a game and because Fanny isn’t playing it at all he loses, in every possible way.

[inland--empire]

The inhabitants of Sunshine Terrace/Apartment Block 5598: Personal notes by The dOOrman! You know. The doorman. Of Sunshine Terrace.

Roman Stilinsky: Pleasant. Like no real stuff for him. We rarely ever talk. I mean, like. We talk enough for me to know him I guess? He hates the taste of black tea and he likes jazz. That’s all I really know. 

Lois Stilinsky: She’s a bit of a gossip, and is probably the best at makeup in the whole apartment! She’s not a huge fan of having to keep her looks the same all the time. She loves the smell of grapefruit and her favorite perfume smells like it. 

Robertsky Peachman: He doesn’t talk much! He’s not stupid like some people think, he’s just like that. He’s a hard worker and I can respect that. He can’t stand loud noises.

Albertsky Peachman: He can be just a bit rude, but it’s ok. It’s not often. He just wants to get home. I just don’t think he likes people all that much. He always shuts the door to the front lobby behind him even if it closes on its own. 

Angus Ciprianni: I don’t have mush to say anything but he is so fake. He also throws a lot of parties to literally everyone’s annoyance. Especially me! His shoelaces are fake, he can’t tie them and he hates birds. 

Selenne and Elenois Sverchtz: They are the faces of the “sameness is beauty” movement, a new trend encouraging people to stick to particular outfits and looks and not change them. As twins they were deemed the perfect candidates for this. They are a bit uncanny as they do in fact. Just act like the same person just reflected in a mirror. They also have cats. Two. They are twins. They are pleasant to be around, but tend to leave other people out of their inside jokes. One of their jokes is laughing at palimdromes. 

Arnold Schmicht: He used to be a horror writer before. Ten years ago. He is not trying horror writer anymore, he tends towards more domestic pieces generally inspired by our neighbours. I’ve read a few of his books, both old and recent. I find his new pieces also have a certain sense of dread built into them, like he wants so desperately to explore those darer topics again. You also wouldn’t clock him as a horror writer! He loves jokes, and is a very bright, talkative man. He’s also just great to hang out with. He loves being asked about his latest project, and he likes eating lemons like oranges. 

Gloria Schmict: She isn’t as done with everything as she looks! She’s just usually really tired after a long day of helping people at the bank. She has quite the dry sense of humour, but that doesn’t mean she’s not fun to talk to! She’s one of the most observant of my neighbours, which also makes her slightly paranoid. I definitely get it, though. We have a sort of solidarity I think. She’s afraid of spiders, but she likes snakes. Her favorite colour is yellow. 

Izaack Gauss: Despite his general air, he’s actually really easy to talk to. While I’m not close with him at all I get why people like him. He swears by using Gerome’s Hair Gel, it’s the only brand he uses. He also can’t stand the taste of mint unless it’s mixed in with something. 

Margarette Bubbles: Her favorite things to sew are dresses, and she actually specialises in bridesmaid’s dresses though she does do general repairs for people. She always has her bag of sewing materials on hand, and has a great eye for colour. She actually can’t really see out of her lazy eye, though she has horrible depth perception because of it. She’s a gossip QUEEN and knows quite a bit. Her house is really comfortable, and she has a lot of hand-sewn dog stuffed animals there since she loves dogs but can’t have them. She has a bias for St. Brenards. She makes the BEST turnovers I have ever eaten and she refuses to tell me her secret to them. Her favorite colours are burnt orange and royal purple, and she loves the smell of pine. 

Nacha Mikaelys: She almost always has something sticking out her hair, things just get tangled there! She says she’s been meaning to cut her hair for a while but she’s worried about getting mistaken for a doppleganger so she’s waiting until we have to get new ids. She’s really loud, but in a good way! She wears jewlery usually, she says she has a little bag for her earrings and bracelets for when she’s cooking. She owns a chef hat for home but doesn’t wear one at work. She collects her daughter’s broken slinkies and keeps them in her purse and she has a locket she refuses to tall me what’s in. She loves banana bread and her favorite animals are pigeons. She also has lovespoons hanging up in her apartment!

Anastacha Mikaelys: She doesn’t really like people, she gets overwhelmed easily in social situations so she avoids them. She likes slinkies, and the smell of normal household soap. She actually has a huge slinky collection, but she only lets you see them or play with them if she trusts you. She wants a hamster, and Nacha told me not to tell her but Nacha is saving up to suprise her. 

Mia Stone: She doesn’t believe fully in the dopplegangers and can be quite rude when coming through! She almost always “forgets” to tell me when she leaves so I can’t add her to my list. She is curt and to the point when she talks, and tends to overexplain things. Then again she works with small kids so I can let that slide. She knows how to tango. 

Dr. W.  Afton: He also thinks having a doorman is stupid, but he’s a bit ruder. He doesn’t really say hello to me and tends to turn his whole body to the door when I say he’s cleared to go. I think he doesn’t like the wait. His favorite colour is olive green. 

Francis Mosses: He isn’t all that interesting. He doesn’t hate his job, but he doesn’t like it. He jokes about just sleeping in his car a lot, and sometimes he just. Randomly breaks into scared ranting about our situation. He tends to stay alone, and when I went over to his house once it was. Kinda depressing, it didn’t feel like he actually lived there at all. He likes ribbons and collects them off the street, and he says his favorite colour is scarlet. 

Steven Rudboys: He’s much less serious than he comes off. He speaks quietly and mumbles a lot, but he gets loud when he’s excited. He has a passion for the history of planes, but not really of flying. He only really became a pilot because he struggles with doing matinence on the planes. He likes puns, and when he realizes he has an in he lights up a bit. He likes cats and birds, and he’s really good at making a duck call. 

Mclooy Rudboys: He called me “sweetheart” once and I tried blowing him up with my mind. He makes jokes about his son possibly not being his??? He’s divorced at least three times and told me “he’s lost count” and apparently he fought in World War 2 and retired from being a pilot after that. He likes eagles and only smokes cigars. 

Alf Cappuccin: He’s sort of hard of hearing and tends to not like. Understand what I’m saying so I have to use cards so he gets what I’m saying. He’s a few years younger than McClooy. He likes his porridge with brown sugar and raspberries and he likes the smell of brown paper bags. 

Rafttellyn Cappuccin: Rafttellyn tends to be quite nervous and timid, she doesn’t really talk much. She has the highest voice by far. She dyes her hair, it’s actually grey but she gets a bit nervous about it. She loves apples and always has them in a wooden bowl on her table. Her perfume smells like old roses.

[spork-supremacy]

saw a post about how cliquey the fandom can be, can’t find it for the life of me to reblog but thought I’d share some observations I’ve had over the years of basically being a ghost on here. Granted this is less on behaviour and more on how we can section ourselves naturally.

I find that the bigger the fandom the easier it is for it to get divided into little subsections, especially if it has a lot of content in season variation, characters, and location. Ninjago is a very big prime example of this with around 17 seasons, 2 specials and the pilots, many with themes attached to them. there’s a lot that you could cling onto and make it your one big focus on the show.

It also has a giant cast especially when you include roles that are either small or season specific, once I just tried to see how many I could name alone from memory and I got a little over sixty and I’m sure there’s more. When it comes to location we don’t have too much in mainland Ninjago that begs to be further explored considering most people we actually take notice in live in the main city. But add in the 15 other realms and we have a whole host of interesting locations to explore.

To circle back to characters we also have a lot in our main cast, with a standard of six ninja, now three students, and if you still want to count Pixal, Misako and Wu because you are in denial, and Garmadon’s two season stint in the title sequence, we have 13 who’s been included in the main cast at some point , creating multiple dynamics we can work with and latch onto.for me personally I have always gravitated to the Jay focused side of the fandom because that was where I was most comfortable, looking over character studies, art, headcanons, general Jaya stuff because I have a favourite ship dammit, and skybound analysis because despite how strange of a season it was it was also somehow my comfort season, my favourite one I dare say. I admit it was mainly because I didn’t really think about themes and subtext back in the day and just always loved a romance heavy season of anything. I was simple sue me.

But now I love it because as much as I don’t wish to admit it I can see a lot of myself in early seasons Jay, not necessarily a good thing but watching him grow out of specific negative behaviours helped me to do so myself. With the season itself it’s just fun to pick it apart and notice what exactly was so off to me when I was younger.

And something like this can apply to everyone in the fandom, which is why they stick to their own corners, because that’s where they’re most comfortable. They may stick to a character like Lloyd because he has a lot of angst attached to him to play around with, or someone like dare that because he’s a completely comedic character and prime for crack scenarios, or Nya because of her journey of self discovery. There are definitely still people obsessing over SOG or TOE, or possession. And what I do see is people happy to share their thoughts on their own “fixation season” as I call it.

This is at least how I sort pretty much all media in my own brain and I think it’s kinda neat how the internet can work like it. With a whole branching system that if you take certain doors can have you starting off in the surface entirety of the show to looking over really obscure details like how much the word wish is used every season (great post if you can find it).

this definitely became way more in depth than expected but this is what I have noticed. I very much like how much the internet aligns with my thinking patterns and the imaginatory map of my brain.

Now I just need to figure out if this is neurotypical behaviour .

[junkdrawerfics]

First Suspicions

And final findings.

Previous

Summary: Two instances when your curiosity gets the best of you and Jasper has to distract you from the truth. And one instance when he's not there to do so. Curiosity might just be the thing that kills you.

Words: 1768

Note: I like this part a lot more, so I hope you guys also enjoy it! I tried to do a quick but believable process of discovery. Longer note at end.

Also @little-miss-loves-fictional-men your comment on my last post almost made me cry. Thank you for that.

---

“So you’re not related to your siblings, right?”

A month into the semester, and Forks feels like home already. Largely in part to Jasper, not that you’ll ever tell anyone that, especially him. It took only a few days for you to become fast friends. Being around him felt easy, maybe because he never seems to judge you for your odd habits, or maybe just because he’s one of the kindest, most empathetic people you’ve ever met.

Whatever it is, your friendship quickly breaks from the confines of the school. Whether it be studying at you new favorite coffee shop - though you’re thinking of going somewhere else since he rarely wants a drink or anything - or going on a walk through the woods as you’re doing now.

Jasper offers a wry smile as he helps you over a large log, “Just Rosalie, I’m afraid.”

You shoot him a disapproving look, though he catches the glimmer of laughter in your eyes, “Don’t be mean, Jasper Hale. She doesn’t seem that bad.”

It is strange though. Except for their matching gold hair, there’s not a singular similarity between him and Rose. They’re honestly the most different out of the family, personality-wise at least. Maybe that’s normal for siblings though.

“No, I suppose she’s not,” Jasper murmurs, looking up at the sky, which is practically hidden behind the canopy of pine needles. “Though I’d much rather listen to Edward go on about Bella than her talk about herself.”

Bella Swan. The girl who moved to Forks just one year before you. You have a class with her, and you honestly like her quite a bit. While you’re both awkward, it’s nice to know someone else who’s close with the Cullens.

And she might know things that could answer your growing list of questions.

Like why are they all so pale? Why do they avoid most of the school? Why do you never see them on the rare sunny days Forks gets?

“So why do you ask about my siblin’s darlin’?” Ah. Right. You weren’t being too subtle, you guess.

“I just think it’s crazy how similar you all look,” you explain, keeping your eyes glued to your shoes. Mud sticks to the sides, both dry and wet. You’ve been walking for a while now. “I mean, you all look different, obviously, but you all have the same eyes. And you’re all gorg-”

You bite down hard on your tongue and come to a stuttering stop. 

That wasn’t supposed to come out.

Jasper stops right beside you, lips drawing into a wolfish, slanted smirk. You stand completely frozen, eyes wide as he steps closer, too close, leaning forward against the tree behind you. Your heart flounders wildly in your chest. Sometimes you forget he’s so tall.

“I’d sure like to hear you finish that declaration, miss (L/n),” he hums, tone bright with barely concealed mirth.

“Nope!” Your heart lurches as you duck under his arm and scuttle away. Heat burns across your cheeks despite the chill in the air. His laughter echoes behind you, warm and deep and lovely. Too lovely. Your face goes darker. “You didn’t hear anything. I didn’t say anything. Oh hey, look at that tree!”

Jasper watches you dash away, relief warring with his amusement as he follows close behind. You’re observant, more observant than he expected. He’ll have to be more careful. At least he was able to distract you.

This time.

---

“Do you always run this cold?” You poke Jasper’s shoulder as you pass him on the way to your desk.

The blond glances up from his textbook, eyes narrowing as if he’s trying to figure out where you’re going with this, “I suppose I do.”

“Maybe it’s cause you don’t eat enough,” you muse, reaching for the bag of chocolate you keep hidden in the bottom drawer. You hold it out to him with a conspiratorial smile, “I always like to keep a secret stash, want one?”

“No thank you, darlin’.” Jasper smiles, though it’s tighter. Maybe you only see it because you’re looking for it, but you swear he looks uncomfortable for a split second.

“I feel like I never see you eat,” you admit, putting the bag back in its hiding spot, “Even at school. None of you eat.”

Jasper’s brow furrows. He can feel your concern, but also your curiosity. They radiate off you in equal degrees, so he can’t tell how carefully he should tread.

“My siblings and I are on a…special diet,” he explains slowly, eyes falling back to his textbook. He can’t hold your worried gaze while he lies to you, even if it’s not really a lie. “We prefer not to talk about it.”

You tilt your head, pouting softly, “Sorry, I didn’t mean to push.” 

Guilt. Jasper can feel it biting at the back of his mind. But he smiles and murmurs a soft, “Thank you for understandin’.”

You nod. It still seems strange, though. The more you think about it, the more questions you have. You’ve hardly seen him even drink water, and that can’t be normal, even more for a special diet. But it’s not like he looks unhealthy. No one can look that good if they’re not eating enough.

A sudden heat creeps up your neck. Coughing awkwardly, you turn your attention to your own homework, trying to not focus on just how good Jasper always looks. The man is surprisingly fit under all those sweaters -

Then why does he run so cold? The thought comes back to you, like an annoying fly circling your head. You’ve noticed the same thing about Alice when she gave you a hug. Their touch is like ice, cold enough to leave you shivering after the smallest graze. It’s the kind of cold you read about in your murder mysteries, when someone is dead.

Curiosity burns hot in your chest, making you all but forget the slight warmth in your cheeks. Some things just don’t add up. And you know you shouldn’t pry, it’s none of your business and you don’t want to push him away. So why does it matter so much to you?

“Do you need help with that problem, darlin’?”

You jump, glancing up to find Jasper looking over your shoulder at the worksheet in your lap. You didn’t even hear him get off the bed. It’s almost like he’s a ghost.

“Um, sure, yah.” Your growing anxiety seems to slip away with him so close, and with it goes your curiosity. Shaking your head, you cast him an apologetic smile, “Sorry, I’m a bit distracted I guess. Did I space out?”

Jasper squeezes your shoulder warmly, voice tender with something fond, “You were starin’ at it for a few minutes. I figured it might have been givin’ you trouble.”

“Yah, yah, I guess I’m stuck.” To be honest, you don’t even know what worksheet you’re on. Help can’t hurt though. “Thanks, Jasper.”

“It’s my pleasure.”

Another successful distraction.

---

“Huh.”

You pause in your reading, jaw dropping a little.

To end the quarter, your U.S. History teacher was allowing you to do a report on anything that has been covered in class. You decided to do research into the Civil War, specifically the confederate army since you felt like it was often dismissed in class discussions. Understandably, since it’s an uncomfortable topic for most.

But you were curious, as always. There’s no doubt they were on the wrong side of history, proven by how things ended. Even if you hate what they stand for, you want to know both sides of it.

So you dug up some old books. And by old, you mean old. Written very close to the time period of the war old. They’re only digital copies, since there’s no way you could afford them otherwise, but still. And it took searching some obscure website to find them.

It makes this all the more confusing. You double check the publication date. The copyright. All of it. They all confirm the age of the book.

So how are you looking at what seems to be a carbon copy of Jasper?

It’s an old photo, dated 1862. Black and white and a bit fuzzy. A young man sits perched on a horse, decked out in a full confederate uniform and a cowboy hat. His hair is longer, light, brushing his chin, just like Jasper’s. But that’s not it. No, it’s something about his face. About the lopsided grin on his lips.

You quickly skim the few paragraphs next to the photo, eyes going wider with each word you read.

‘Jasper Whitlock, born in Texas, became the youngest man to earn the rank of Major in the Confederate Army. Major Whitlock was labeled missing in action in the year 1863, when he disappeared while evacuating U.S. citizens who were at risk in the wake of the war.’

Jasper.

They even have the same name. Different last names, but still. Can that be a coincidence? Maybe they’re related, you try to reason. That wouldn't make sense, after all. It’d be crazy. Absolutely crazy. 

You decide to google this man, Jasper Whitlock, but only a few generic results for ‘jasper’ show up. Nothing about the young Army Major. You lean back in your chair, brows furrowing. That doesn’t make sense either. Unless-

“What are you reading?”

You shriek, slamming your laptop shut.

Bella holds her hands up, eyes wide. 

“Oh my gosh, you scared me!” You press a hand to your chest, laughing breathlessly. “I thought you were Jasper.”

The brunette looks at you strangely, “Why? Are you hiding something from him?” 

You flinch. That’s straightforward. For Bella at least.

Trying to give her an easy-going smile, you explain, “No, he just has the tendency to sneak up on me. I’m working on a history project, that’s all. He knows all about this stuff and I definitely don’t, so I’m trying to spare myself some embarrassment.”

You hate lying. It makes you feel gross, but you don’t want to freak Bella out. There’s a lot of ways this could be explained, you’re sure, and you’re probably overthinking all of it. 

Yah. There’s no way that this Jasper Whitlock could be connected to your Jasper. It’s impossible.

Right?

This time, Jasper isn’t there to blow out the spark.

---

Unless.

The word rings around in your head.

Ringing and ringing and ringing until you jolt up in bed later that night and snatch your laptop from your nightstand.

‘cold skin’

‘doesn’t eat’

‘avoids sun’

‘doesn’t age?’

You click enter and only one word comes back.

‘vampire’

---

Next

So! I was so excited to incorporate the whole history thing! My headcannon is that Jasper would have been recorded in history because of his accomplishments (I mean, the real youngest major of the confederate army was 36 so him being 19 is crazy) but the Cullens have worked to to keep his name off the internet somehow. I'm sure one of them could pick up some computer skills with all that time.

And that's why you only see him mentioned in old, written text. I don't know, I think it's something really cool to think about! And what a cool way to do a reveal!

Anyways! I hope you guys enjoyed this!

[hughesybear]

Canucks thoughts 11/09/2024 (I was at this game! photos & video along with thoughts below cut)

It was certainly an exciting game, even if it wasn't exciting for my team! I borrowed some jerseys from a friend, and I think they're cursed, because every time they've been worn to a Canucks game the Canucks have lost. We're hoping that they can be redeemed this season!

My brother was at this game, and he's pretty new to hockey so I was explaining a lot of things to him. Somehow he got the Oilers and the Canucks confused and started clapping when the Oilers opened the scoring, despite the Canucks wearing the black skate and me wearing a black skate jersey right next to him and us having watched the Canucks warming up in the black skate for 15 minutes. This man is 21 years old. He also correctly observed that “Quinn seems like a low-key dude,” so I showed him the video of Vinny failing to hype Quinn up on the bench lol

I took so many pictures and videos, but I focused mostly on Petey and Quinn. I'm glad I got to witness Petey's best game of the season so far (first multi-point game!) and a Petey goal :)

Petey and Quinn had a moment (pictured below) where they were both down on one knee facing each other looking around, and I also got a video of them practicing one-timers and saucer passes:

One last peteyquinn moment before my actual thoughts:

Let's look at the positives first! This was Petey's best game of the season by far. He was exerting more of the control on the game that we've come to expect from EP40, and he was uncorking slappers and wrist shots that had much more velocity on them (he had his first 90+MPH shot today!). For the first time this season that I've noticed, he was getting offensive zone deployment over Miller (who got more defensive zone deployment), which is a pretty good indicator of how Tocchet is feeling about his two 1Cs during any given game. Each game there are more steps in the right direction, and more signs that he's climbing back to the player we know he can be. Both sides of his two-way play were on display this game. He made a stellar play in front of his own net reading a pass to McDavid and poking a sure goal off his stick, and his work in the offensive zone, some welcome flashes of chemistry with DeBrusk, and his notoriously strong hand-eye coordination led to the 3-1 goal that felt like it should have been a turning point in the game. Right after that, his line had another strong shift which the third line (aka Life Line 2.0) was able to build off of, pulling off some nifty passing to scramble the Oilers' defence and leave Hronek wide open in the slot for the 3-2 goal. See what happens when you apply consistent offensive zone pressure, Canucks? Why can't you do that regularly?

That's pretty much it for the positives. I miss Brock Boeser dearly, and it looks like the Canucks do as well. Tocchet chose to run 11F and 7D for this game, which resulted in lines shuffling around and very little consistency for the Canucks to build off of. Apparently it was because one of the defencemen was dealing with something and Tocchet wanted to have a good PK, which I suppose I understand if the other option was having Juulsen, Desharnais, or Brannström in a top-4 role, but it still hurt the Canucks IMO. They struggled to establish a consistent, heavy forecheck, and the lack of pressure in transition led to the Oilers being able to break the puck out of their own zone way too easily. The Canucks' forward group should have feasted on a bottom four that looks like Stecher, Dermott, Emberson, and Kulak, but alas.

Miller especially struggled without his longtime linemate, registering a 16.67% CF% and 4.44% xGF% 5v5. When he was on the ice 5v5, the Canucks were outshot 0-8 (and out-attempted 3-15). Yikes. He's most likely playing through an injury that kept him out of most of the preseason, but that doesn't excuse what he does on the Arvidsson goal that makes it 3-0 Oilers. Quinn smoothly enters the offensive zone with possession and drops the puck to the right side where Miller and Garland are supporting the entry. However, instead of making the safe play and helping the puck get through to Garland who's right behind him, Miller bats it straight into the middle of the ice for no reason, where four Oilers and zero Canucks are waiting to turn the play the other way. Instead of backchecking and tying up Arvidsson, which he was in the best position to do so, Miller just sort of gives up on the play, which you really can't do if you're the centre on your line. An unhindered Arvidsson skates right into the slot and puts it past Lankinen. Miller's play is due to receive more attention soon, especially since it's starting to become reminiscent of his play during the first half of the godforsaken 2022-2023 season.

It was another night where the Canucks struggled to effectively defend the guts of the ice, and defenders were puckwatching instead of finding bodies and tying up sticks. I was actually explaining icing to my brother, and was talking about how Juulsen had iced the puck, when Juulsen left Perry open for a tap-in. rip. Not much else to say other than they need to clean their in-zone defence up again, and focus on keeping the chances to the low-danger perimeter.

Overworking Lankinen was always a concern, since he's never had a starter's workload in his career, and this game seemed to have confirmed that. After the 5th Oilers goal, Lankinen started letting in some uncharacteristic softies, leading to Tocchet's first Canucks goalie swap that hasn't been injury-related. Šilovs' SV% has risen above .800 on the season because he stopped four shots, which is kind of hilarious.

It feels like the coaching staff wanted to get Šilovs some more action before a possible game on Tuesday instead of repeating the mistake of sending him in against the Devils after not playing for two weeks, which is why Šilovs played a game for the Abby Canucks today. He was solid - the only goals scored against him were off cross-seam passes that the big club has barely permitted this season, and he had a .920 SV%. With that win, he has his first win of the 2024-25 season! That's pretty unfortunate, but he could have an opportunity to get his second one very soon with the big club.

Let's end on a positive note! By scoring on that meaningless power play at the end of the game to cut the Oilers' lead to 7-3, the Canucks accomplished four things:

Inflated their power play %

First Petey multi-point game since March 23

Made the Oilers tied for worst penalty kill in the league (-15 goal differential)

Made Skinner have a sub-.900 SV% in the game

If moral victories are a thing, petty victories are too. Hopefully the Canucks can redeem themselves against Alberta teams at home in their rematch against the Flames on Petey's birthday!

[5and3nevermind]

I’m sure you’ve talked about this a lot, but I wasn’t sure what to search for in order to find any of your posts on it so sorry if I’m just bringing up things that you’ve already talked at length about.

But, I woke up this morning thinking about the live Jimin and Yoongi did together during Yoongi’s tour and feeling crazy about it all over again.

I remember watching it in real time and just being excited to see them do a live together, just them for the first time. And while I felt like their body language throughout was interesting, again, while watching in real time I was more focused on what they were saying and only after the fact really started side eyeing the way they were mirroring each other. But the end, when Jimin grabbed Yoongi’s arm and Yoongi immediately ended the live…I felt that in my stomach, and seeing it after the fact hasn’t lessened that feeling at all.

I’m not the type to think about their relationship in absolutes, mostly because I don’t know anything past what they show us and because it doesn’t actually affect me in anyway. So, while I enjoy the idea of them, and enjoy getting to watch them together and think about them, whether it be platonic or romantic or whatever, I just enjoy it and don’t really get caught up in wanting to prove anything both to myself and especially not other people. But there is something about that moment, paired with the fact that it was completely unedited sticks in my brain as something I have a hard time waving away or shrugging off like most things.

It doesn’t prove anything (and I don’t need or even want it to), but it’s one of those things where I know how it made me feel in the moment and how it continues to make me feel when I see clips of it (which isn’t often because I tend to not be able to look at that moment straight on lol it’s too much for me). I need to know if that moment drives anyone else as crazy as it does me!

On a more wholesome note, that paired with the bangtan bomb we got of that same day of Jimin coming to Yoongi’s show and seeing how Yoongi acted the whole time, you can just tell how having Jimin around affects Yoongi’s mood/mentality, it’s very sweet. Makes me think of him saying he got a lot of strength from Jimin visiting the Shadow set (despite Jimin not feeling that gratitude at the time LOL), or Yoongi whining about Jimin not visiting the Daechwita set. I know the fandom (and Yoongi, I’m not trying to discount their friendship at all) thinks of Hobi as the person who gives Yoongi energy. But I don’t think enough credit is given to the fact that Yoongi becomes so playful and silly when interacting with Jimin (Suchwita, anyone??)

I don’t know what my point is anymore, I’m spiraling. I just enjoy getting to watch these two interact in whatever way they want to share with us.

Hi anon! I have to warn you: I can feel that I’m about to write a long answer. Hope that’s ok! 😉

In terms of the live: I’m still absolutely floored by their dynamic. The Newark live and Ddeun Ddeun were so incredible to me. Of course, we can’t know for sure whether Yoongi and Jimin are a couple or not. But I do feel 99% certain that they are close and they absolutely adore each other.

In an effort to be objective, I think we sometimes ignore how we feel about certain moments. However, I don’t think we should be so quick to dismiss our instincts. During the live, I think many of us watched and felt something. I don’t think we imagined that. Especially when we have 10+ years of content in which we’ve observed these two together.

I’ve never written about the live in detail. (I have written about “your bare face is pretty too.”)

The ending was CRAZY. The live had only been going for about 18 minutes and Jimin had only been on screen for about 12. Then this moment happened:

I honestly don’t know what happened here. Yoongi seems vulnerable and as soon as Jimin touched this shoulder, that was it for the live!

As soon as that moment happened, Yoongi started wrapping up the live, which seemed to surprise and delight Jimin.

The other funny thing: earlier in the live, Yoongi had said he wasn’t tired. Now all of the sudden he’s tired? Ok.

Honestly, after watching the live I can understand why they don’t go live often. They are so fond of each other, the energy is off the charts.

I'm not the type to think about their relationship in absolutes, mostly because I don't know anything past what they show us and because it doesn't actually affect me in anyway. So, while I enjoy the idea of them, and enjoy getting to watch them together and think about them, whether it be platonic or romantic or whatever, I just enjoy it and don't really get caught up in wanting to prove anything both to myself and especially not other people.

I think you’re very smart to see it this way. There’s a lot we don’t know, and in many ways their lives are much more complicated than ours. I used to be obsessed with wanting to know for sure if they are “real” or not. My brain doesn’t like unsolved mysteries! It’s as if I have to resolve issues in my mind in order to move on to other things. Thankfully, I’ve moved on from that way of thinking. I’ve accepted that we might never know for sure. I also think that, in a way, it doesn’t matter. A lot of people interpret “yoonmin is real” as saying “yoonmin is a couple.” But I think there’s another way to look at it.

I see “yoonmin is real” as meaning that their moments are genuine, what they say about each other is truthful, they are extremely close and are an important part in each other’s lives and in their development as artists and as human beings. I can’t sit here and say I’m sure they’re a couple. But I can say with 99% certainty that they are “real” in this second sense of the word.

It was after Ddeun Ddeun and the Newark live that I truly felt…at peace. My brain was able to shift from “mystery-solving mode” to “I just want to enjoy their dynamic and their lovely bond while I can.”

Anyway, they are truly special to me, and it sounds like they are to you too. 💛

Thanks for the ask and sorry I rambled!

[theink-stainedfolk]

Writing Questionnaire Tag

Thank you for the tag @the-inkwell-variable @the-golden-comet and @wyked-original-writing

I have divided the questions between different characters.

1st set are for Yin Jian and Luo Xingchen from The General's Bride from beloved inkwell♡♡

1. If you could kill someone with zero consequences, would you do it?

Jian: "No. To take a life, even without retribution, stains the soul. There are other ways to undo a person without resorting to bloodshed."

Luo Xingchen: "Yes. But only if they deserved it and posed a threat to what I’ve sworn to protect. Mercy can be weakness in the wrong hands."

2. What kind of crimes are okay to do, in your opinion?

Jian: "Crimes of survival-stealing bread for the starving, trespassing to escape danger. Laws are not absolute; their worth is measured in justice, not in their mere existence."

Luo Xingchen: "Breaking laws that don't make sense. Sometimes rules exist only to control, not to protect."

3. Instant ramen or fancy ramen - which is better?

Jian: "Fancy ramen, of course. The care and time spent crafting each element speaks to the devotion of the chef. I don't know what Instant ramen is. Though I admit, I've never tried the instant variety. Should I?".

Luo Xingchen: "What the hell is Instant ramen? "Fancy ramen is fine for a special occasion, but when you're starving in the middle of nowhere, a quick bowl of Simple Ramen is unbeatable. Besides, it's less pretentious."

---

The 2nd set is of Liang Wenqing and Jin Tao from The Ghostly Aria

1. What location is always considered a home to you?

Liang Wenqing: "The opera house, despite its age and decay. Its stage, its back halls—every corner breathes with the history of my ancestors. I was born into this tradition, and even though the world is changing around me, the opera house feels like the only place where I am truly myself."

Jin Tao: "Home for me has always been the small, cluttered office I keep at the precinct. It’s not grand, but it's where I make sense of things. It’s where I can think clearly, even when the city around me is changing faster than I can keep up with."

2. Do you enjoy traveling with company, or alone?

Liang Wenqing: "I prefer being alone, especially when I’m on the road for performances. There’s something about traveling by myself that helps me focus on my art. But when I perform, I am never truly alone—the voices of past singers and the ghosts of forgotten opera fill the empty spaces around me."

Jin Tao: "I prefer traveling alone. I find that company often distracts me, especially in a city like this where every street corner is full of people pushing their own agendas. I need to observe and think—when I’m alone, I can truly see what’s around me."

3. How many landmarks in your world have you visited? Were they fun? Horrifying? A place to remember?

Liang Wenqing: "I have seen many of the grand buildings of the city—factory chimneys rising like iron giants, the bustling markets, the riverside where the smoke of industry lingers in the air. But the only landmark I truly remember is an old, crumbling temple I stumbled upon when I was young. It was a place of both beauty and horror—whispers in the wind, shadows that seemed to move. I’ve never forgotten it."

Jin Tao: "I’ve seen many parts of this city—factories, bustling marketplaces, the wharves by the river. But the one place that sticks in my mind is a narrow alleyway near the edge of the industrial district. I stumbled upon it while chasing a suspect. It was dark, filled with the smell of smoke and oil, and the sounds of the city seemed muffled there. It was a place that reminded me how far we’ve strayed from the old world. Not a fun place, but one I’ll never forget."

---

The 3rd set is for Alva, Ames, Corey and Winter from In Monochrome

1. What brings you the most comfort?

Alva: “The quiet hum of the coffee shop in the morning. When everything’s calm, and there’s no rush, that’s when I feel at peace.”

Ames: “The smell of paint on canvas, especially when it’s fresh. The moment when the first stroke of a new piece touches the surface—that’s when everything feels right.”

Corey: “Being wrapped up in a cozy blanket with a good book and a cup of tea. There’s something about being in my own little world that makes everything seem okay.”

Winter: “Being outside in the cool air, especially when it’s dusk and the light turns golden. I love that feeling of the world settling down, just before night falls.”

2. Do you enjoy the warmth of the sun?

Alva: “I do, but not too much. Just enough to warm me up when it’s chilly outside. It’s like a gentle reminder that things will be okay.”

Ames: “I prefer to paint in the quiet, but I do enjoy the soft warmth of the sun through the studio windows. It feels like the light is bringing my art to life.”

Corey: “I don’t mind it, but sometimes I feel like the sun is too much. It’s bright and intense, like everyone’s watching. I prefer the quieter, softer days.”

Winter: “The sun’s warmth is great, especially after a long, cold day. I like to just lie there, soak it up, and forget everything for a while.”

3. What’s your favorite meal?

Alva: “Anything with pasta, especially a rich, creamy Alfredo. There’s something comforting about the way it melts in your mouth.”

Ames: “I like something simple, like warm bread with butter, something you can savor slowly while you’re thinking. It doesn’t need to be fancy, just real.”

Corey: “A classic grilled cheese sandwich with tomato soup. It reminds me of childhood, of being safe and taken care of.”

Winter: “I’m all about a hearty stew, something with root vegetables, meat, and thick broth. It’s warm, filling, and something that sticks with you all day.”

---

I'll tag @finickyfelix @willtheweaver @leahnardo-da-veggie @illarian-rambling @winglesswriter @paeliae-occasionally @thecomfywriter @drchenquill @corinneglass @seastarblue @frostedlemonwriter @vesanal

[radykalny-feminizm]

I think I just lost a friend because of my views on feminism. Apparently she doesn't feel safe in this relationship anymore because "she feels uncomfortable with how my second-wave feminism rhetoric paints all men as the agressors" and "she doesn't want to be in a relationship with person with transphobic views". She was the first person I had enough courage to talk to about radical feminism after I peaked roughly a year ago. I know there is no use trying to salvage this relationship. I am crying, but I feel numb at the same time. All the cases of radical feminists being ostracised, cancelled and attacked, sometimes by their close friends, that I read about suddenly feel as tangible as these tears. I know there is no use trying to explain my values to her again, since she would only regard them as an attack on her values again (she admitted that during our discussions she felt that I was, in fact, attacking her views, which was me simply showing her the differences between hers and mine). I know she is not willing to consider a different perspective. But in my breast there is still this visceral desperation to try to make her understand.

She has been hiding this all from me for 7 months. Says it has come to a climax. I don't know what to do. I feel so alone.

I wrote about this to you, because you are Polish, too. I couldn't bring myself to use Polish in this ask, because it would make all of this more unbearable. I see more and more girls and women in Poland endorsing gender ideology or even transitioning. I cannot express how relieved I was to find that there is at least one other compatriot who understands, how it is to be a radfem.

I am terribly sorry that this happened to you. I can't imagine how betrayed and disappointed you must feel. You trusted her, and she betrayed that trust. This person was not your true friend if she rejected you because of your views that don't harm anyone.

I agree that there's no point in trying to explain things to her anymore, since you likely discussed it many times over the course of 7 months and she still didn't understand. If someone steadfastly sticks to their position and is not willing to compromise, despite being shown facts that undermine that position, then that person is simply brainwashed. Woke people are very similar in this regard to religious people. They close their minds to all uncomfortable facts and arguments because they have their set of views that they accepted without reflection and find it comfortable to hold onto. They don't have to think independently and that's convenient. She felt "attacked" because she couldn't intellectually and emotionally handle the possibility that what she and the majority of people from her environment consider to be the truth, might not actually be true.

Your story makes me angry. For fuck's sake, people are becoming radical nationalists, racists, homophobes, misogynists or religious fanatics, and they don't face the same ostracism as radical feminists, especially when they're men. It's sick. I just can't wrap my head around the fact that for some people, the worst thing you can do is simply care about women without regard for men's feelings. It shocks me that people just accept every ideology that becomes popular on the internet and are willing to destroy friendships and lives even, in its name. I know that woke cancer is becoming increasingly common in Poland, and I hate it.

But you know what? There are many of us, more than it may seem, because through situations like yours, we often have to hide. You are not alone. There are many women who don't even know what radical feminism is, but they share most of our views because they simply make sense at a logical level, based on observing reality.

Another matter is that everything comes to Poland with a delay. Here, gender madness is still a novelty accepted uncritically, while in the West this was the case a few years ago. Now, the West is slowly waking up, and more and more people are starting to see the illogicality and harm of this ideology. It will take some time for this to start in Poland as well, but it will start. Then, many people will understand that they were wrong, maybe your friend too. At this moment, the fact that you are right probably doesn't comfort you, but that's how it is. I strongly believe that although we are now being cancelled, judged, and rejected, someday at least some of the people doing this will realize their mistake. Many people who are now radical feminists were previously trans activists and male apologists, including me. Change is coming. We have to persevere and do our part.

I hope you will feel better soon. This person didn't deserve to be your friend. I hope you'll be able to find another friend who will have an open mind and heart. If you'd like, feel free to reach out to me privately. It's important for us to stick together. I am thinking of you and sending you lots of strength.

[ave-immaculata]

Hi. I am messaging as many Catholic blogs as I possibly can for spiritual help--I don't know if this is offensive. I don't mean it to be--I honestly, I try my very best to be a good practicing Catholic--but life gets very confusing. Anyway, I've been absolutely failing at every aspect of this Lenten promise, and I am terrified God is going to hurt me or hate me or punish me or just let something like that happen--that is not to say God is vindictive--He isn't; I'm just being very evil by making a promise to God and then not sticking to it. I've been getting mostly positive signs, but I am afraid that I am interpreting them that way out the selfish desire to be good and loved by God and not because He is actually pleased with me. I know this is complex problem. I know if you find the side blog this is from that it is going to be filled with non-canonical thoughts and desires and takes on God. I don't do it to be disrespectful--I love the Church with all my heart. I never wanna leave Her. So, if you do find it, please don't be mad or think made this out insincerity. I'm just scared and life and maybe the afterlife is throwing things at me at a much more advanced speed and understanding than I am prepared for. I would talk to my local priest, but I have caused trouble in the Diocese before, and I really don't wanna drag those people back in or my current priest or my family and I don't wanna be humiliated again. So, all I am asking for is prayer. Just pray for me.

{{{{Lenten Plans from the Universe/The Messiah/The Golden Timeline (02/13/24)

Okay so basically, here is the plan--handed down through divine intuition or signs or whatever gave me the information--I trust the information source--so here's my spiritual cleanse for the 40 days:

3 days of (as close as possible) no sleep--72 straight hours--then 2 days of regular sleep schedule for the next 40 days

40 days of no more than 1200 calories every day

40 days no spend (outside of food and bills)

40 days (at least) of no medication (exception--Excedrin Migraine but only in extreme situations...)

Increased prayer/communing/sign reading

***I want to be clear that this is something that I am doing for my own spiritual cleanse and enlightenment and enrichment and etc; I'm not advertising this as a responsible or safe or anything--this isn't a recommendation--you're welcome to join me in an attempt but consult with your own support system including mental health team.***}}}

I'm sorry this is so long. I'm sorry for being confusing or weird. I hope you are having a blessed Lent and I hope that you are given many blessings for praying. God Bless and thank you.

I will absolutely pray for you. I also want to add, despite what I'm about to say, that I get the worry you're describing about God punishing you or letting something bad happen as a consequence. I experience that kind of thinking, and even though intellectually we know that's not how God operates, it doesn't necessarily make it any less stressful. Any practices or penances that are amplifying those concerns are not drawing you to God and are not good.

Your series of Lenten devotions, in my opinion, were always going to be failed. These are collectively (individually, even), stricter and more difficult than most religious people (monks, nuns, etc., not just people who practice religion) would take on. I would sincerely recommend considering lessening your observance for the rest of Lent and discerning these sources pushing you towards them with renewed skepticism (especially using Ignatian discernment, which I can describe more if you like). Especially concerning (outside the penances), is "sign-reading." I don't doubt your sincerity or love for God, but I don't know that, given your worries and anxiety, this is going to be fruitful or draw you into a deeper communion with God.

God will not try to trick you with confusing signs or threaten you for not being able to keep up with this. God isn't going to ask you to stop taking prescribed medications as a penance. Let your your love for Him and His Church be the foundation of the remainder of Lent; your desire to please Him is delightful to Him. Read the Scriptures and dwell with Him.

I obviously don't know the situation with your diocese, but please consider speaking to one of the Priests about this.

[napkinmouse]

Lol

Character design is hard

Genshin recently released some creatures that look like a much better version of my fursona ideas I attempted to make in the past. It’s resurfaced a reoccurring issue I’ve struggled with since I first started drawing, as a matter of fact. Every single one of my design is practically a 1 for 1 of something else, but ✨stylized✨. They are boring, simple, plain, and definitely plagiarized to some degree. When I do try to make something unique, it comes out looking half baked at best.

To add to insult to injury, it turns out that nobody really likes my fursona designs I’ve made for them. Well… I guess that’s not entirely accurate. They only like it because I made it and it’s a “neat” design. Not because they actually relate to it in any way, which defeats the whole fucking point. Never mind that I spent months trying to figure out which type of animal would most accurately depict by using years of observing their mannerisms. Quite literally losing sleep over it thanks to it being a hyperfixation until I figured it out. Which, to be fair to them, is understandable since my designs are all shit anyways ¯\_(ツ)_/¯ one of them is literally just a stuffed animal I saw and put it in a dress, and another is basically a recolored version of a comic I used to read, which because of the colors I chose gets mistaken for Fluttershy. Not a *single* one of my friends actually relates to them despite all the effort I put in.

Then again, I guess I did do that on purpose to a degree. I chose these creatures after careful deliberation, and not so much preference. For example: I have a friend who LOVES raccoons, but I personally think a rat suits him better. Raccoons are round, slow, gluttonous, a bit of a goblin, bot overall pretty chill. ….he, however, is none of those things. He is highly intelligent, nervous, *needs* routine, and is uncomfortable with breaking away from patterns. He needs tests and has a very reward centric personality, or at least a huge fear of failure. But, can still be soft and sweet, albeit a bit always, It reminds me of a lab rat.

I like the challenge of trying to figure something out from a psychological perspective more so than what I think is cool. I also like the idea of using something I’m not super into as a way of learning to love aspects myself. Otherwise, I would have chosen a fox. I was obsessed with them for a long time. So much so that my “fursona” as a kid was Renamon for a long time. Because I’m an unoriginal hack. However, foxes have a lot of symbolism that I don’t really have. They also don’t share visual features or personality traits with me. Except maybe the weird screaming. If I were a fox, it would no longer be “me” anymore. I would be cool, for one thing. Ha ha

All in all, I think I’m just gonna stop trying. My fursonas are shit. They always have been. Designing them is upsetting because I hate how basic all my designs are. I should just stick with people. Especially since the hard work amounts to nothing and doesn’t matter anyways, so I’m just gonna give up on this aspect and stop trying to do something that clearly isn’t working. I’ll just stick to making boring ass fanart sketches with 2/3rds profile headshot.

[itsana004]

Astral for the character thingy? :3

First of all, thank you so much for the ask!!! 💖

I realised I don't have much Astral content/discourse on my blog, so here lays my truest thoughts on Astral

•How do I feel about this character

I really love his character! Whenever I rewatch Zexal, he just wakes up and choses violence that day and I love that.

I think I was intrigued by his character because he was introduced as this serious and intelligent looking naked alien, who roasts Yuma like shish kebab on a daily basis, especially when it comes to dueling, and we know that is going to be their dynamic for a while - but he's much more than that.

I think I really started to like Astral on the Esper Robin episode, he's not just Yuma's foreign alien friend/dueling aid who roasts him and that's it, he has his own interests like watching the Sparrow show (and adding humour to the series with his foreignness about earth), flying around and being curious about the human world, being afraid of cats, when he eats for the first time, teaching Hart how to eat with sticks (so cuteee), has his own Observation series, his banter with Yuma - this are just examples on what makes his character so precious to me.

Also another thing I was surprised by is despite being so cool and collected, he feels fear during duels like when he dueles against Kite? And it made me feel anxious for him when I was watching it?? Astral can feel emotions such as fear and I really appreciate this detail because I think the show writers raised the stakes too high that if Yuma loses then he's going to disappear, so they end up winning every single duel with Astral's magic formula, and therefore most of the time he's unbothered and almost invincible - so when he shows emotions outside of his stoic calmness, I love it. I don't know why I just love to see Astral lose his absolute sh8t

Also Astral's friendship with Yuma's friend group I find it so cute, despite being invisible they still felt his presence because that's how much of an influence Astral had, and when he was gone, they felt it through Yuma's grief (or Kotori told them whatever) and Flip created a crystal/glass gravestone showing how much Astral meant to all of them, the gesture it's just so sweet and emotional. I also loved his friendship with Kite, despite being minimal, he influenced in Kite's decision to not give up on dueling and that friends represent the future which is a lesson he learned from Yuma, which changes his whole trajectory.

Now let's talk about the plot... and boy it's filled with plot holes and... questions.

Astral has a... a very mysterious/confusing background. So he was born as a weapon by Eliphas to protect the Astral world, and one of Astral's character traits is to get split into cards just randomly... Number cards to be exact - whether it's his memories - giving him amnesia, whether it's his powers lost during his battle against Don 1000 - turning into Mythirian cards, parts of him just like to split into cards and I guess I find it funny? Heck he even has an evil twin as a Number card like-

Oh and also fan fact he turns Yuma into Super Saiyan when they jumbled up together.

But 50 of these Number cards possess people an amplify their desires, so Astral was the real villain in this show- no, it was Yuma's dad cause he sent him there by making him have amnesia and leading his son to go through life threatening situations and hell to collect them (I knew it all along)

ALSO, WE NEED TO TALK ABOUT DARK ASTRAL- HOLY SH8T THIS MOMENT FVCKED ME UP WHEN I WATCHED IT FOR THE FIRST TIME

Like- I didn't even feel like I was watching Zexal and kind of wish they made these moments of satanic Astral longer. But let's talk about the real satanic Astral, boy I love Dark Mist's and Astral's banter and how Astral just has to fist fight him to not be either absorbed or killed by his evil twin.

I think this is becoming too long now for a read so I am just gonna move on now.

• All the people I ship romantically with this character

I don't particularly ship him with anyone (except Dark Mist maybe) in the show because I'm not simply invested in any of his ships that much? I can see him and Yuma being together, afterall he did say "Aishiteru" (I hope I spelled it correctly) which is the deepest form of "I love you" at the end of the manga, but at the end of the day I'm just "They're cute, next-", and honestly I much prefer Dark Mist x Astral than the latter, it's simply how I feel.

I'd also like to mention a moot has her own ship with Astral and her OC (you know who you are) and I'm definitely more inclined towards that when it comes to shipping Astral with someone because fans are better at writing/drawing romance most of the time, especially because they are not ambiguous or queer baiters.

• My non-romantic OTP for this character

For this section this has to be Yuma and Astral as well. Just as I can see Yuma and Astral being together, I can also see them in platonic light, but there is no mistake that they are soulmates.

I think many years ago I said as to why I felt that way, Yuma and Astral's relationship really reminded me of Nobita and Doraemon and despite both of them going to the ends of the world, time, galaxies to be there for eachother, it wasn't romantic in Nobita and Doraemon's case and they had other romantic partners, because these tropes are so similar, our two zexal characters can also fall into the platonic category. Now if anyone reading this are mad at me for even considering this and seek representation from the zexal series of your fave ship, then good for you, I prefer either way, but I all can say is I really enjoyed Astral's and Yuma's dynamic throughout the show and how their bonds became stronger through dueling, and it's the growth and influence they had in each other that I liked, and I definitely became emotional and pulled my heartstrings whenever they lost themselves and tried to bring eachother back, and the last scene of them parting ways had me weeping.

Ps. Astral's roast to Yuma will be the most memorable.

• My unpopular opinion about this character

Oh boy, I can't really think of any right now? But I think despite being a protagonist I feel like he's overshadowed by other characters, especially Yuma, like we don't really see Astral as invidual character most of the time and it's always him and Yuma, so maybe he deserved some solo attention? (Okay so there is literally a Kotori centric ending song but not for Astral? What-)

Also he deserves clothes-

• One thing I wish would happen/had happened with his character in canon

Zexal III

Zexal III

ZEXAL III AHHHHH

Also can someone tell me how Yuma's dad met Astral and send him on earth but not himself and his wife-

[princess-of-the-corner]

Your first response felt like it was 100% aimed at me specifically, like I had been trying to use that interpretation to justify people writing Tom and Sabine as bad parents, and not bringing it up bc someone else mentioned Sabine being demonized for not doing enough for Marinette, despite her sticking up for her in the principals office and me going 'oh hey! I know why some people go with that interpretation!'

There was no real indication that it was a 'fandom in general is wrong' thing and not a 'im telling this specific person they're wrong' thing, and most of your responses after that focused on further debunking those points, despite me trying to say that I agreed with what you were saying multiple times, and that I don't agree with that interpretation

I have no idea how I wasn't supposed to feel like you were going after me for an opinion I don't hold

And I never said you 'should' have answered with 'inch resting', but that it was along the lines of what I thought you 'would' say. Just like, a brief acknowledgement of an observation I had. Like maybe a 'huh' or 'oh yeah that', something like that.

That's all I was expecting, not what I thought you should have done, and saying that I said that's what you should have done is putting words in my mouth again, which is what I've been frustrated about!

Being repeatedly misunderstood and having my actual words be misrepresented as something I never said

But as long as I finally got it across that I don't think that stupid 'Alya wasn't Akumatized bc she trusts Marinette and Tom and Sabine are Bad Parents bc they were Akumatized and didn't trust her' isn't an opinion I hold or want tied back to my blog, I'm done

If you say "Hey, some parts of the fandom think X", there is a chance I may respond with "I agree/disagree because of Y".

This is not aimed at you specifically. I am not sure why you got the idea that it was aimed at you specifically instead of the people who /do/ share that opinion when this is how I answer every sort of "someone said X, what are your thoughts?" question, especially when we are in the middle of discussing said subject and sharing our thoughts on it.

Further responses debunking those points were because the general message was 'No I was saying that they think this'. Which made me assume I had misread your point re: what they thought, not that you were trying to clarify 'I don't think this, someone else does'. Because I already understood the latter point when you first said 'other people think this'.

[phenikas]

Rhack Week 2023 | Day 5 - Night Out

Words: 1623

Warnings: Mentions of depression and death "mild" alcohol consumption, very vague descriptions of sexual stuff (it's as vague as it can be, although still not recommended for minors)

_______________________

Blinding neon lights, music that drowns out every bleak thought, and most importantly- a never-ending tab at one of Meridian's hottest clubs- The Supernova.

Jack had never been one to dislike such distractions, especially when he needed to get his mind off work. But being a floating hologram stuck with a depressed CEO of a multimillion-dollar weapons giant meant that he had no work. His only source of entertainment was watching Rhys eat, sleep, work, and drink himself away.

Maybe Jack should've said something earlier. Maybe he could've prevented this slow and agonizing spiral into borderline alcoholism. But time and time again, he had been reminded that he was a nobody to the Atlas CEO. Endless strings of code kept up to date by the kindness of Rhys' heart.

"The Supernova? Again?"

"Shut up."

He had no say over how Rhys should live his life. Jack kept his promise that he'd watch Rhys wither away, wait until the perfect moment to strike, snatch his life and all that kept him going.

The problem was, Jack didn't know what kept him- them- going. Was it a principle? To survive despite all odds? Rhys' willingness to fight his way out of whatever turmoil he could? Or did he have a higher purpose Jack didn't know about?

"Maybe we could-"

"I said shut up!"

Jack sat back, as he always did, and watched with concern in his mind. Kept his mouth shut as Rhys poured unknown contents into his mouth. Held his gaze, green-eyed, resentful towards any who plastered their physical bodies against Rhys' in an uncaring manner.

Being an observer was torture. "Think you've had enough for tonight, cupcake. I know you can't handle-"

"You don't know shit, alright?" Rhys snapped his head at the hologram, oblivious to all who gave him concerned looks, "You don't know me. You don't know what I want. You don't care. So stop pretending like you do."

Jack backed off, offended, scared for the first time since- since- "Why did you bring me back, huh? So I can watch you ruin your life? Because you were lonely? Because you didn’t know what else to do with me? Why am I still here?"

Rhys lowered his head, his attention on the half-empty glass in front of him. This was not a conversation they were meant to have at a stupid dance club, Jack knew that very well. But when else would he get his answers? If Rhys' avoidance of the topic when he was sober was as clear of a sign as Jack thought, then maybe Rhys’ drunken self would be more open to letting his feelings float to the surface. "Shut up."

Or not.

"Alright, how about this. You get me out of your cybernetics, I get out of your hair. Put me in a new body or destroy me. At this point, I couldn't give two shits what happens to me. I mean, anything's better than this. And you clearly don't want me around, so why the hell should I still be here."

"Fine." Jack didn't know what to make of this answer. Everything was better than living like he didn't exist. Even being sent into pure oblivion. But he didn't know if Rhys was taking his words seriously, or just trying to get rid of him for the night. "Remind me tomorrow. Now get out of my sight."

Remind me tomorrow. That phrase used to bring a smile to Jack's face. It was meant for trivialities, easily forgettable things that just couldn't stick around long enough for Rhys to remember.

But the more he used it, the more Jack realized that they were no longer in the territory of “triviality“. Rhys had been forgetting, his mind shutting down and only focused on the "now" rather than the past and future. He was dooming himself each and every second he spent in those stupid clubs. Numbing his mind. Forgetting how to feel.

Jack disappeared out of his vision, but he was still there, watching Rhys waste his night in the presence of like-minded individuals. Strangely enough, Jack didn't feel compelled to get out of Rhys' hair yet. It was a hypothetical question, the one he had given him; meant to get a reaction out of the man. But if Rhys didn't care enough to remember, then maybe it was finally time for Jack to leave.

_______________________

"Stupid-" Rhys whispered to himself, unable to meet the eyes of whoever was currently on top of him trying their best to rid Rhys of his current distraction. He came into the club to rid himself of troubles, and yet one seemed to just love lingering around, his name like sweet venom on his tongue, "-Jack."

"Not my name, honey."

Rhys rolled his eyes, pushing the stranger off him despite their heated moment. He couldn't deny that Jack got under his skin that night. Whatever the hell he meant by leaving- Rhys needed to stop thinking so hard. "Bring me something hard. Actually, scratch that- I need something that can get me wasted right now. And put it on my tab."

The stranger, a worker of the Supernova, nodded his head in a panicked manner, rushing off towards the bar. Rhys let out a groan of discomfort, sitting back in the booth. As soon as he noticed the blues of Jack's hologram appear right across from him, he started second-guessing his earlier order.

"Not really feeling it tonight, huh?"

Rhys hoped his annoyance and frustration caused by Jack were obvious in his drunken expressions. He gripped onto the seat so tightly; they must've been. But Jack was... Jack. Rhys had no idea how many things he could pick up on. "This would've been so much easier if you were-"

"Gone? Yeah, tell me about it."

"Here," Rhys whispered, closing his eyes and leaning his head back. He didn't know if his whisper was loud enough, or if Jack had read his mind somehow, but as soon as he opened his eyes, the hologram was at his side, concern written all over his features. "Here, Jack." Rhys weakly patted the spot next to him, then pointed at his forehead, "Not- not here."

"Rhys?" Jack's voice sounded distant, like an echo in a dark cave. It came suddenly, the darkness that overwhelmed Rhys. He could not see anything, yet he could feel his body moving on its own, out of his control. Maybe this was it. The moment Jack's been waiting for. A true test towards their gained trust. One that could cost him his life.

"I got it from here." Jack's voice was soft. Almost muted. Warm. Cautious. Safe. Everything Rhys wanted to hear at that moment. Yet the consequences terrified him.

He didn't want to die. Not yet.

"Jack-!"

_______________________

Rhys didn't know what it was that woke him up first; the artificial morning rays that shone through his window right onto his face, his throbbing headache, or the fact that he was still alive.

He was still alive.

He turned around in his bed, wanting to stay in just a while longer.

Just. A. While.

"Mornin', pumpkin."

Rhys' heart skipped a beat, remnants of last night coming up blank. He knew he'd been at the club, where else? But how did he get home? Did he call a cab? Did someone take him?

Did Jack?

Rhys turned around once again; his face instantly met with that of the hologram who had been kneeling near the bed for who knows how long. "Jack." Rhys reached his hand out, his thumb brushing against where Jack's lip should've been.

Jack's eyes followed the motion, silent, observing. And when Rhys’ hand didn't move, only then did he have the courage to speak, "It's been a while since I took control. Gotta say, I'm as surprised as you that I managed to get you here."

"Thank you."

The hologram gave him a weak smile. "Don't worry about it. I mean, it's the last thing I could do since- you know- I'll be going away one way or another."

Rhys' eyes widened, the dread from last night coming to the surface. Right. Jack had asked him to be let go. And Rhys agreed. Why did he agree again?

"I-" Rhys began, his voice stuck in his sore throat, coherent thoughts lost in his foggy mind. Jack watched him struggle with his words, waiting for an answer to their problem, "I don't- Jack, I don't want you to go. I can't-"

"Why?" Jack asked as straightforward of a question as he could. But Rhys didn't know the answer.

He couldn't admit the answer.

"I don't want you to go. Where would you even go? What's out there for you? Who else would you go to?"

"Who- what does that have to do with anything? You wanted me gone. I'm offering you a solution. So, pick your damn mind. What do you want?"

Rhys had hit a new low. Begging Handsome Jack to stay was embarrassing, something he never thought he'd do after everything they went through. But it was true. He needed Jack. "I want you to stay. Please. I'll give you a body, just don't go. I- I need a friend. Someone by my side. I need you."

"You need a friend." Jack repeated, the words feeling alien on his tongue.

"Y-Yes?"

"I'll stay," the hologram agreed, although Rhys could already see the reluctance in his eyes, "on one condition."

"Tell me."

"You stop going to that stupid club. And drinking. And paying for those weirdos." Jack stood up; his back turned to Rhys. Before he had disappeared completely though, there was something else Rhys overhead, perhaps by Jack's will, "Geez, wasting your money like that when I'm right here."

"Huh?"

_______________________

Rhack Week 2023 | Day 5 - Night Out

Day 1 | Day 2 | Day 3 | Day 4 | Day 6

[djuvlipen]

The whole slavic anon talk got me thinking, but I don't do original posts so I thought maybe you'd like this little thinkpiece/explanation. Don't feel the need to respond.

Slavic radbrl's extreme defensiveness over being accused of racism/"mixed up with the rest of white people" points me to extreme disconnection from their own community with a pinch of being terminally online. Navigating the power dynamic where you're white but not white enough to be considered part of the "civilized world" is hard and can be painful at times, which is why you'd see slavic people trying so hard to stick with poc with the whole "we're not like other white people" rhetoric. Because xenophobia is never talked or taken about seriously they can't explain why we're treated like that by western europeans, so searching for community with poc just makes sense to them. You see the word racism used by slavic ppl instead of what it actually is (xenophobia) for the exact same reason.

(also, there's legitimate movements to recognise slavic people as people of color, most of them seem to be spearheaded as Ukrainians or people of Ukrainian ancestry, which is not a coincidence imo)

Getting a reality check that yeah, you're still an opressor class, actually, sets off a defensive response in many people because they've personally never gotten the privileges of being a part of the opressor class (or, yknow. Never realised they did), which makes sense, but honestly I'd expect a better attitude from the community that seems to understand how intersectionality works.

But there's also this disconnect where slavic people tend to be very distant from our (admittedly pretty ugly) history and culture, only nit-picking the bits they like, because the rest of it reminds them that we ultimately live in a culture that is incredibly misogynist, racist, homophobic and xenophobic, which doesn't fit with the idea of being that perfect victim a lot of slavic ppl on the internet strive to be.

There's this idea that the only way to gain sympathy from the west (which we subconsciously aim for despite all out sneers at them because sometimes it feels like it's the only way for our countries to survive, and sometimes it actually is) is to make them realise we never actually "deserved" the way we treated. Facing all the pain we've caused to Roma and Jewish people and countless other nations makes you doubt and think that maybe you *did* deserve that - which is a very wrong way to go to begin with, but it's just easier to distance yourself from your history - your responsibility - and live in that comfy little bubble where your people never done any wrong because understanding that we still don't deserve the shit we get from the west despite all this, but at the same time should finally take some action against racism and discrimination we take part in today and at least apologise for what we did in the past takes some damn reflexion and mental resource and thought not all people are capable of. Especially not those who came to radbrl to escape the already painful reality with having to deal with Eastern European men, lol.

Not an excuse, of course, this phenomenon just seems very interesting to me personally since I observe it often in real life too.

(also the whole "slavic countries, aside from Russia" thing just feels so pretentious to me as a Ukrainian. I'd bet some serious money these people only mean Russia's attitude towards Ukraine that came to light recently and maybe other Eastern European countries, but not the North Asian native people that Russian colonised and killed because they wouldn't have even added that little "except Russia" to the list of they knew their own country's history with racism, which I'm sure there is some. Also, all that aside, is Russia not overwhelmingly slavic with slavic mindset and culture anyway? What's your reason for putting it aside like that, anon? Uncomfortable with the fact they're part of our ethnicity? Yeah, me too.)

Hi! Thank you for your input. You made a lot of good points, especially regarding the lack of education about xenophobia, and I don't think I can add much besides saying 'yeah that's true', especially since I'm a Westerner it wouldn't be fair of me to speak over you.

However as a Romani woman there are some parts where I disagree with you. I don't think Slavic people are trying to stick with people of colour by saying they are not like other white people. To me the very statement that Slavic people aren't like other white people is baffling. We can agree that Slavic people face xenophobia and persecution in the West based on the idea that they are not white *enough*, but the emphasis here is on "enough". They are still white and they have historically oppressed Romani people and they continue to do so. I don't see Slavic people distancing themselves from whiteness as an attempt at solidarity with poc. Roma have faced and still face institutionalized segregation, police brutality, forced sterilization, being put in ghettos, being denied access to school and healthcare, they never got compensation for slavery or for the pogroms and massacres they survived. Because the majority of us (esp. in Eastern Europe) are visibly brown and have a dark skin. Slavic people can't relate to that and the fact that they still continue to be so racist against Roma (like, the situation of Roma in Eastern Europe is so appalling, human rights violations are being committed against Roma everyday and we all know it) yet think of themselves as different from other white people is laughable at best. I am not only talking about myself here, all the other Romani women I've talked to on the matter echoed that sentiment and some were way, way less polite than I am when talking about this, because they live(d) in Eastern European countries and they have experienced racism first hand.

The idea that Slavic people are somehow different from other white people lies on the idea that racism against Roma is less reprehensible that racism against other people of colour. Slavic people who argue they are different from white westerners say they never colonized third world countries and say they never enslaved black Africans. So they recognize that racism against third world people and black people is bad. But they can't apply the same thinking when it comes to racism against Roma.

For the same reason, I wouldn't say Slavic people who say this are nit-picking bits of their history to leave aside the parts they don't like. I think it's actively rewriting history to try and pretend Slavic people were never racist against Roma to the same extent white westerners were to other poc. And this erasure has deep consequences on the lives of Roma today: they still haven't gotten reparation for slavery and we barely got any reparation for the Holocaust. The reason white people erase anti-Roma racism from history is because they don't want to compensate us and they don't want to acknowledge anti-Roma racism is bad, because they hate us. And the idea that Slavic people were not like other white people or were even people of colour (ridiculous considering that they have a white skin) has been used to silence acknowledging the severity of anti-Roma racism. Years ago when I was talking about Czech policemen kneeling on a Romani man's neck and smothering him to death, Czech users replied by insulting me, saying I was racist against Czech people, put me on blocklists, and then sent me anon hate telling me my whole family should be shot and Europe should be cleaned of gypsies.

So I think the main characteristic of that "not like other whites" phenomenon is how it erases the history of anti-Roma racism and acts like it isn't as bad as what other poc go through when Romani rights are constantly violated every other day in Slavic countries. But I do agree with a lot of what you are saying, I don't think Slavic people's anti-Roma racism or antisemitism should be used to justify persecuting them, and I agree that more people should be aware of how xenophobia is and works. I agree that there must be a lot of psychological reasons behind this phenomenon, you highlighted them very well and it was very interesting!