#in hindsight it would be cool to have a photo...

[masherbrum]

had to google when exactly that favre-sacking after 5:1 vs vfb was.

these years are kind of a blur football-wise, it was basically the same thing every season. and yeah this was in december 2020, i remember that this was probably the point at which i was most disconnected with football since... forever. which is also why i don't really remember that sacking as emotional in any way, even though favre was basically the last coach (only one since klopp, except maybe edin?) that i trusted to actually get more out of the squad than the 'theoretical potential'. i really liked the guy, but i just didn't care back then. i had moved on and had started something new somewhere else after a particularly shitty 1st corona-summer, empty stadiums, basically didn't care at all back then...

[klemen-tine]

Glass Bones and Paper Skin Part 3

Platonic! Bruce x Model! GN! Reader

Trigger Warnings: Hint at suicide, Body Issues, Eating problems (not a disorder), Child Neglect, stalking, Partner Abuse

Part 1

Part 2

@problematicreblogger and @wpdarlingpan Since you guys wanted to be tagged lol

+++++++++++++

Y/N sat in the bathtub in the guest room. It’s been three days since they arrived, saw the photos, and the creepy trophy room. Three days since their conversation with Dick, finding out that they had all been on their terrace and taking photos of them. Stalking them. 

They wrapped their arms tighter around their legs, resting their chin on sharp knees and staring at the porcelain tiles and gold facet. Three days of walking on egg shells, somehow managing to evade most attempts in hanging out with the siblings and Bruce, and only really seeing them at meals. Y/N hasn’t built up the nerve to ask about the trophy room, but Y/N knows that everyone in the house knows that Y/N knows of the two rooms. They know of the photos, the ones taken without their permission or knowledge, and the clothes that have redefined their modeling career. 

Sighing, Y/N stared at their pruning hands and the now cool water. The bubbles dissolved a long time ago and the essential oils had become diluted enough that the scents no longer permeated the air. 

Finally dressed in a robe, lotion and oil on their skin and face and teeth washed, Y/N exited the bathroom and screamed at the sight of Jason on their bed. In the midst of their panic they threw the brush at the larger man, who caught it skillfully. 

“Wha-what is wrong with you? No-wait, why are you in my room?” Y/N walked around the large bed to where all their clothes are kept. Their eyes not leaving Jason’s imposing figure that was currently resting on their bed. 

“I knocked.” Y/N rolled their eyes, “I didn’t ask if you knocked, why are you in my room?” Jason shrugged, “Just felt like I haven’t talked to you in a bit.” Jason and Y/N’s relationship was like that of dragons in the old ages. Full of history and non-existent. 

Jason was already dead by the time Y/N had entered the Manor. A small body buried in the Wayne gravesite. In hindsight, Y/N’s timing had been awful. Moving in when Tim basically forced Batman to take him in as a Robin, Dick’s and Bruce’s relationship had worsened, Jason was dead for about a year, and Alfred had still been grieving. Truly a terrible time to join a family. Y/N could taste the tension when they had first moved in, and they understood immediately that they were just another unneeded burden. 

A 13-year-old Y/N cried in their bathroom, mourning their mother who had loved the fame more than them, the friends that loved Y/N for Y/N, and the life on the West Coast that they were now expected to continue on the East Coast. 

The unfairness of it all. 

“What do you want to talk about?” Y/N asked, rummaging through the drawers and finding a nice shirt and some nice jeans. 

“Hmm, oh you know, the casual how are you doing? How’s the model-life? Any fun stories you have? What have you been doing lately?” Y/N started changing in the bathroom, keeping the door cracked so they could hear the questions. 

When Y/N reemerged, now fully dressed and the robe hanging on the back of the door, they smiled at Jason, “I’m doing good, kind of tired but that's to be expected because of the ‘model-life.’ The fun stories I have are more of traveling around the world and seeing different cultures and eating good food. 

“As of late, I’ve been thinking about getting a cat.” Jason’s brow raised, “You travel though.” Y/N nodded, “Yeah, some models travel with their pets and I think that's what I plan to do. They’re easier to travel with than a dog, and I don’t think a dog would like my condo.” Jason nodded, “You could always leave it here. The little spawn would take care of it.” 

“I can’t do that to the family. It’s my pet and should be my responsibility.” Jason hummed, “Is it because you don’t want to visit?” The air stilled and blue eyes met E/C. Jason didn’t look bothered, if anything he seemed relaxed about the whole thing, “It’s fine if that's the reason. I hate being here too.” 

Jason came back as a dead person Y/N knew not to talk about. From the stairways, they would watch Jason storm out after a bad argument with Bruce. Unable to completely understand what exactly was going on, but from the hushed conversations they knew it was something they didn’t want to know about. 

“I don’t hate being here, I just don’t have reason to visit other than Alfred.” Jason continued to stare at them, “Not even for ‘family.’” 

“Jason, when have you ever looked at me and saw a sibling?” Jason didn’t banter with Y/N, never showed interest or any inclination that Y/N even existed. Y/N is pretty sure that to Jason, Y/N is just a stranger living in the manor. 

Y/N wonders if they will see Jason’s temper. Will it appear like the monster hidden in the closet, waiting for the right time to lash out at anything? Y/N has heard the screaming matches, the threats, the holes in the walls from Jason. For someone who has killed people, Y/N wonders if they should really be mucking around with Jason. 

When Y/N looks at Jason, they see the middle child of a family that had other priorities. Once upon a time, Jason was the youngest and loved by Bruce, but then younger Robins came. Jason died, and while never replaced, Robin was. 

When Y/N looks at Jason, they see the middle child of a family that Y/N is not a part of. 

They are not siblings. Not cousins, relatives, they are not even friends. Barely acquaintances if Y/N is honest. Which is fine. Y/N has gotten over the hurt and feelings of loneliness. 

It is just Y/N against the world, with Alfred partially in their corner. Not fully. Never fully because Alfred will always be in the Wayne family’s corner, and Y/N is not a Wayne. 

Jason sighed, “Mmm, I guess that night when you took a beating from that one dude for not getting in the car.” Y/N paused in brushing their hair, mind reeling and slowly turning their head to look at Jason who was instead picking at his nails. Y/N opened their mouth, but Jason beat them to it, “You went out partying, like almost every high schooler does, and your boyfriend was drunk.” 

“Just get in the car, Y/N!” 

“No! You’re drunk and you said you’d stay sober!” 

“I am sober, now get in the fucking car!” 

“Fuck off!” A 15-year-old Y/N stormed off, turning their back to Marcus Dueller, the then jock of the school. A rough hand grabbed their shoulder and a fist met their face, “You don’t talk to me like that.” 

“...Marcus wasn’t my boyfriend.” Jason didn’t show any signs of hearing Y/N, “You took a pretty bad beating, I’ll admit it. I was going to step in once he started choking you, but you took that brick to his head pretty hard.” 

Blood splattered across Y/N’s face as Marcus collapsed. The hands around their neck loosening and Y/N took deeply needed gasps of air. Their throat aching and lungs burning as they rolled over onto their hands and knees. Tears pricked their eyes as the pain and realization settled in. 

“I called his friends. He was fine, just a concussion.” Marcus and Y/N never talked again, and Marcus’s friends took one look at the bruises on Y/N’s face and neck to understand what had happened. 

They all stayed Marcus’s friends, because unlike Y/N, Marcus was loved by his family. 

“Then, you walked your beaten ass towards the liquor store.” 

“Oh my God! Y/N!” Stacey cried out in shock, and she gently cupped bruised cheeks and watched split lips grow into a smile. 

“Can I have that bottom shelf vodka please?” 

“Bitch, you need a second shelf from the bottom vodka.” They sat outside of the store, Stacey’s partner taking over the counter as she watched Y/N take swig after swig from the bottle. Her concerned eyes tracing over each and every bruise and cut, down to the clothes they were wearing and scrapes in their knees and hands. 

“How many does this make?” 

“Seven. Whoever said seven was a lucky number is a liar.” 

“Oh Y/N, why do you keep doing this?” Y/N gave Stacey the most beautiful they could muster. Not minding the ache in their cheeks or the burning of alcohol on split lips. 

Looking back at it, perhaps Y/N was on a downward spiral. Trying to find love in other people that weren’t the people at home. From ages 13 to 15, Y/N had dated over 9 people. Not one of them made it past two months, and none of them were healthy. 

Once Y/N got into modeling, all their attention went into it. Dating and friends were on a standstill as their career and education became a priority. Maybe that was another thing Y/N inherited from Bruce, a known serial dater. Although, Y/N knows for sure that their taste in partners was definitely inherited from their mother. 

Some of Y/N’s earliest memories are of M/N getting berated and smacked around by men bigger than her. When they would leave, Y/N would emerge with bandaids and tears on their face. M/N would smile at them, blood from her nose painting her lips red and she would cup soft cheeks and whisper in their ears- 

“Diamonds have never been made with gentle hands.” Y/N glared at Jason, who was meeting that glare head on. Now that they are older, Y/N has learned to hate that phrase. They have watched numerous models be in kind and gentle hands and still be beautiful. Still have a loving and healthy relationship with themselves and the other. 

Now that they are older, Y/N knows how untrue those words are. Yet, who said those words had to only be applied to romantic partners? 

“Now here you are, in your glass castle imitating diamonds.” Y/N’s nose scrunched, “Always the poet, reading the classics.” Jason shrugged, "Someone has to be literate in this messed up family. Sure as hell ain’t Bruce.” Y/N rolled their eyes, “So what? That still does not explain anything. More importantly, why now then?” Why was it now that they decided to make a move if they had supposedly been caring for a while now. 

Jason smirked, "Because finally, Bruce sees it too.” Y/N narrowed their eyes and watched with pursed lips as the bigger and stronger man got up from the bed, and walked over to them, “I’d wear comfortable shoes, Y/N. You’re going out with Bruce and the little spawn today.” 

“Wait, what do you mean Bruce finally sees it too? What is there to see?” Jason smiled at him, and it looked more of a monster preening at it’s prey. Callused hands reached up and traced the small, almost invisible scar on Y/N’s upper lip. 

“Make sure you smile, the vultures will be there too.” 

++++

“I do think green will look best on you.” Y/N smiled at Damian, “Green looks good everybody, Damian. You just need the right shade.” Between them was an emerald green silk shirt, the price displayed like a bounty and Y/N wanted to walk out of the store once they saw it. Yes, they made a lot of money, but Y/N also knows what it means to be frugal. 

Damian raised an eyebrow and continued to judge the piece as if it had insulted the family. Y/N set the shirt down and continued to peruse the aisles. Their eyes looking at all the clothing and trying to predict what will be in style. What could they use to match or create their own trend? It is still winter, meaning layers will still be necessary but how to make a stylish outfit when there needs to be layers. 

“Do you see anything you want, Y/N?” They jumped a bit, and whirled around to see Bruce smiling at them. Those blue eyes, intense like winter rivers, roamed over what Y/N was looking at and he raised a well groomed eyebrow, “Do you want that one?” 

“N-no, no thank you. I’m just looking.” Bruce hummed, and wrapped a large arm around Y/N’s bony shoulders and brought them close. He pressed his lips against his temple, an unusual act of affection towards his kids but everyone will chalk it up to Y/N being a model and still young. Bruce whispered against Y/N’s skin, “Just let me know what you want, and I will get it for you.” 

‘If I want to be left alone?’ Y/N didn’t voice it, but they didn’t have too. Bruce’s grin was sharp, “Within reason, Y/N.” A chill ran down Y/N’s spine and they swallowed down the bile threatening to come up. 

“I have money, Bruce. I can buy my own stuff.” Bruce picked up a shirt, “Let me spoil you. It is what parents do.” 

“You already paid off my condo, that is good enough.” Bruce continued to smile, “That was for the birthdays and holidays I missed while you were with us. I still have to make up for the time when you were with your mother.”  Y/N wanted to scream, “How about you donate that then?” 

Bruce smiled, “I already do. Let me spoil you.” He kissed Y/N’s temple once more before walking away, eyeing everything the way designers did when critiquing their pieces. Y/N had a feeling that if they didn’t get something from here, the store would be paying the price. Grabbing a sheer halter top and pair of black high waisted pants, Y/N let Damian throw the green top on the small pile and made their way to the check out. The cashier smiled nervously as the Wayne family stood in front of her. 

True to Bruce’s promise, he paid for the three articles of clothes, the pair of shoes, the jewelry, the accessories, the–

“I think that is enough.There are a lot of bags, and while I appreciate it, I really don’t need anymore stuff.” Y/N placated Bruce and Damian, already picturing the amount of trips it will be to take everything back home. The man seemed satisfied though, smiling and shrugging his shoulders, “If you insist. How about some lunch now?” 

Y/N wanted to decline. They wanted to go back to the manor and get away from everybody. The feeling of walking on eggshells and constantly being watched had their skin crawling and the need to take another bath. Bruce wrapped an arm around Y/N’s shoulder and brought them close, and Damian took up their other side. 

“You’re acting more as a bodyguard than a father it seems.” Bruce smiled, “We’re having a nice family outing. I’d hate it if one of your ‘followers’ interrupted." Y/N furrowed their brow, but they could not stop their body from tensing, “Someone is following us?” 

“Unfortunately.” The photos they saw in their old room re-emerged and a feeling of dread seized their muscles, making them lean further into Bruce. Yes, they were once all Robins, but not once in those photos taken from their terrace was there ever a reflection of the Bat. 

“It’s okay Y/N, I’ll make sure they won’t take any of you.” 

“How… how do you know its not you they want a photo of?” Bruce smiled, guiding them into a fancy restaurant, Damian requesting a table away from the windows, "Because they all know not to follow me.” There was something akin to a warning in Bruce’s voice that had Y/N biting their lips and following the wait staff quietly. 

Y/N watched as Damian and Bruce conversed casually, well, as casually as Damian can be. The topics went from school, a family named the Kents, and future prospects. Damian was still unsure about what exactly it is he wanted to do, and it most likely didn’t help that Tim was the one who was going to take over Wayne Enterprises. 

Y/N continued to eat and sip their tea, not wanting to add to anything as their mind wandered. After talking to Jason, it proved to Y/N that they were somewhat always being watched. Jason bringing up that one specific memory may have made Y/N’s heart rate spike, but it did prove that Jason was there. The photos, all of them that were taken without Y/N’s consent, show that everyone had at some point gained interest. 

However, why did they never act on it? Why wait until now to do something? 

‘Bruce finally sees it too.’ Y/N’s jaw clenched, what does Bruce have to do with any of this? Could they not interact without Bruce’s permission? Alfred would never allow that. 

Would he? 

“What do you think, Y/N?” The question jolted Y/N out of their thoughts and back into reality. Looking around the table to two expectant gazes, they gave an apologetic smile, “Sorry. I was thinking about something, what was the question?” 

Damian scrunched his nose, “What is there to think about when you have blood-related family members in front of you?” Y/N blinked in shock, and then remembered how much blood meant to Damian. They shrugged, “I have a busy schedule coming up.” 

Bruce stabbed the piece of steak with the silver fork, “You do, don’t you.” He stared at his child, one who he has left to their own devices and now is estranged from the family. Always keeping them at arms length, and never looking back to see if they are behind them. Not because Y/N trusts them to be, but because Y/N was used to them not being there. 

Y/N, for how proud Bruce is of them for standing on their own, is still naive. Still innocent. They didn’t notice the paparazzi lurking around, or maybe they got so used to them they learned to block them out. None of it sat right with Bruce. Those should have been things he taught Y/N. Things to prepare Y/N for a world that was bathed in camera flashes and gossip. How to look out for themselves. How to defend themselves, and what to do in case there is a stalker. Those should have been at least a fraction of what Bruce taught them. 

Yet, he never did any of that. Looking at Y/N sitting across from him, sitting tall and with a closed-off expression, had Bruce frowning. Y/N was still polite, smiled when they needed to and engaged in conversation, but there was still a wall between them. Almost like glass. Bruce is able to see everything and hear almost everything, but his ability to interact with his child is limited. All interactions stopped by the wall of glass put up by Y/N themselves. 

It's a good thing that Batman breaks glass windows on a daily basis. 

“You have some shoots in New York, will you be visiting afterwards?” Bruce watched Y/N’s eyes widen and lips pursed. He could see the breaking point, cracks spreading throughout the glass as Y/N’s mind tried to wrap around the question. 

“How–” 

“Is it odd for a parent to know their child’s schedule?” Y/N blinked, and processed the information. A tight smile formed on their lips, “How long have you known my schedule?” Bruce took a bite of the steak and Damian continued to eat his plate of some fancy pasta.

“Now Y/N-” 

“How long have you known my schedule?” Damian glanced up, irritated at their father being cut off, but the look on Bruce’s face had him settling down. The man was smiling, non-threateningly but all Y/N could see was the Bruce that had stood before them in the changing room after Gabanna’s runway show. The same eyes, full of intentions that had Y/N shivering and the money, power, and background to act on those intentions. 

“Like I have said, Y/N. I am making up for the lost time and neglect you have faced within our home.” 

“And I have said, Bruce, there is nothing to make up. That still does not answer my question about you knowing my schedule.” The cracks were spreading, chipping away and becoming weaker. 

“What parent doesn’t know-” 

“Don’t repeat that sentence. Bruce, you know what I am asking and you keep avoiding it. Who told you my schedule?” An emotion other than faux politeness finally filtered into Y/N’s voice, making the question sound firm and unlikely to bend or be swept away with Bruce’s elusivity. He smiled, “Oh Y/N, did Maya not tell you? GLM Agency has been under new agency since last year. Wayne Industries is now the parent of GLM Agency.” 

Y/N stared at Bruce in confusion, their pretty face twisting as the words registered with them. Everything crashed on Y/N, like glass shattering and bathing them in their shards. The guest room that is identical to their bedroom at home, the clothes that are from their closet, the two rooms full of their photos and mannequins wearing their iconic looks, that fucking Batman-inspired piece of clothing. 

“Y/N.” They’re walking away from the table, head lost in thought and body moving on autopilot. The need to get away from everyone was overpowering the logical part of their mind, and Y/N is walking towards the front door of the restaurant. Pushing the glass doors open, and being bombarded by flashes from cameras. 

“Y/N, what do you have to say about your mother?” A 13-year-old Y/N was guided out of the condo by police officers. Eyes rimmed red from crying and their only source of comfort was the blanket they managed to snag before being escorted out. 

“Were you aware of your mother’s drug-use?” 

“Are you on drugs?” A 17-year-old Y/N walked past the paparazzi, keeping their eyes forward even though they wanted to snarl at that person. 

“Y/N! Look over here!” 

“Look!”

“Over here!”  

A large hand gripped their arm guided Y/N through the crowd and towards the parking lot where the car was. The large body blocking the photos and shielding them from the flashing of cameras that had thrown Y/N back in time. Once inside the safety of the metal box on wheels, Y/N became aware of their rapid breathing and the feeling of their heart pounding. Irregular beats and sweat began to form on their skin as they struggled to take a breath. Just one breath.

The hand that had guided them to the car grabbed their wrist and placed it on a large and firm chest, emphasizing the deep breaths that Y/N needed and wanted to take. Rough fingers gently traced their cheek, up to their ear, and then to their hair. Gently bringing Y/N back to the present. 

“Shh shh, it’s okay Y/N. It’s okay. You’re safe.” E/C eyes drifted around the car, and closed once they saw the person’s reflection. 

“Father, those vermin have been cleared. All of them will be getting in trouble.” 

“Thank you, Damian.” Y/N rested their head against the glass and fought down the need to jump out of the car. Bruce eyed Y/N, and what made it worse was there was an apologetic look on his face. 

“Y/N, I… I am sorry. I thought Maya had told you.” 

“Seems like your manager isn’t doing their job if you didn’t know. You should get a new one.” 

“Don’t talk about her like that,” Y/N mumbled, feeling a headache forming and they wanted nothing more than to curl under the covers and die. They could feel Damian’s pointed look through the seat, “Maya is a great manager. She will not be replaced.” Damian sneered, ���She didn’t even inform you of the change in ownership.” 

“Because it does not concern me. As long as I am able to get booked and get to my destinations, it does not matter who is in charge.” Y/N paused, “Although, now it looks like nepotism.” 

Bruce huffed at his child’s overdramaticness, "It's not nepotism. I had no say in what shows you did or who booked them.” 

“But you had a say in what clothes I wore.” Ice filled the car and Bruce gave Y/N a long look. 

“Just that one piece, and I asked her to do it. She didn’t have to do it.” Y/N laughed, long and hollow as they turned their head to Bruce, “Of course she had to do it. Bruce Wayne is asking for a commission piece, who would turn it down without risking their reputation?” The man sighed, “Y/N, I submitted a commission piece. That is the only thing I had a hand in throughout your modeling career.” 

“Others won’t believe that.” 

“Who cares what others think.” Y/N whipped their head around to Damian, “I do. I do a lot actually. I care a lot about what my fellow models say and think about me.” The boy rolled his eyes, “Why? Their opinions don’t matter.” 

“And your’s do?” 

“We are family!” 

“By blood, yeah! That’s as far as it goes.” Damian looked ready to snarl out more remarks, but the abrupt parking of the car had both of them pausing. They were already at the manor, and Y/N wondered just how fast was Bruce driving to get them here so quickly. 

Y/N was quick to jump out of the car, “I will grab those bags later. Please don’t make Alfred take them.” Bruce followed, “Y/N.” 

“No! No, ‘Y/N’ or anything. I want to be left alone.” Y/N pushed open the manor’s front door, and they wonder how many times they have snuck in and out of these doors before. Was it really even sneaking out if someone knew? 

“Y/N, we need to talk about this.” There was something in Bruce’s voice that stoked the right ember within Y/N’s chest. Whipping around, they glared at the two Waynes, “For fuck’s sake, I just want to be left alone! I was fine with how things were. None of this-this- whatever the hell this is! 

I was fine on my own. I was fine without you guys. I would have been fine if you stayed away!” Bruce didn’t even look bothered that Y/N was yelling, in fact the asshole looked relieved. He gave a patient smile with fake concern in those blue eyes, “The thing is though Y/N, you never should have done it on your own.” 

Y/N rolled their eyes, “Where the hell did all of this even come from?! This… this sudden need to be part of my life? You’re not even being subtle about it!” They were drawing a crowd, but Y/N couldn’t even bring themselves to care. 

“I keep telling you, it does. Not. Bother. Me that you all were inattentive. It doesn’t make me mad, it doesn’t make me upset, it doesn’t stir anything within me knowing you were not there. Yet here you are trying to make it up and all that nonsense, but when I tell you that it's fine you don’t listen!

“It genuinely seems that you are not doing this for me, but to ease your guilt.” Bruce met Y/N’s gaze, and it appeared they were in their own little showdown. Bruce’s gaze, not showing a hint of anger or irritation at his child while Y/N seethed. For once, Y/N looked liked the wild one in the family. Their teeth bared and eyes full of unadulterated rage, they glared at Bruce with the face of a raging angel. 

They hated how Bruce’s lips pulled into a smile, and the feeling of gloating eyes falling on their body from all their siblings. Like they all knew something Y/N didn’t. 

“Bruce finally sees it too.” 

Y/N pocketed that thought, taking a deep breath and trying to calm down. Nothing intelligent was ever said when angry– 

“So tell your big brother Y/N, how do you expect us to trust you on your own when you can’t even notice someone on your terrace?” 

– Fuck it. Intense E/C eyes landed back on Bruce, “If you bought GLM Agency a year ago, why now?” Bruce continued to stare into Y/N’s eyes, “Because it seemed like you needed a break from Gotham. So, I figured a year away would be good.” 

Y/N narrowed their gaze, “Then why didn’t you call?” 

“Because it looked like you needed a break.” Y/N chuckled, “I needed a break, or you needed time to get those rooms set up?” Bruce raised a brow, but Y/N continued on, “It's one thing to have photos from some photoshoots but not photos taken without my consent. Or the clothes I’ve worn on mannequins with almost the exact same physique as me.” 

“They are exact.” Y/N tore their gaze away from Bruce to stare at Tim, the thin and exhausted looking teen standing above them on the stairway. Chapped lips opened, “We used the measurements within the modeling database and created mannequins that have your exact measurements.” 

Y/N gaped at him for a quick second before rolling their eyes, “Wow. That’s not helping your guys’ case at all.” Dick approached them, going for a placating gesture and an easy smile, “Now Y/N, I think you might be overreacting–” 

“I think I am underreacting to all of this. I find out that you all have been taking secret photos of me, which someone them are from my ‘stalker’ and I don’t really believe that but whatever, you have access to my bank account, you bought the modeling agency I work for, commissioned a Batman-inspired piece, and that you have been keeping some of runway pieces on models that are exactly my measurements!

How else am I supposed to be reacting?! And I still don’t have my phone back!” Y/N snapped at Dick, and then began to rub their temples when the headache got worse. An Aspirin, they need an Aspirin. Now, preferably but Y/N has the strangest sense that even if they did take it, the headache would not go away. 

“Whatever, just… I’m going home tomorrow and whatever was bought today just… just ship it. Since you know my address and all that apparently.” Y/N began walking up the stairs, ignoring the panicked looks some of their ‘siblings’ were giving them and the dark look on Bruce’s face. 

Dick, ever the peacemaker, reached out, “Wait, you can’t go back yet! You still have a few more weeks before your next shoot. Just stay for a few more days.” 

“Add kidnapping and being held against my will to that list too.” Y/N continued walking, feeling exhausted and wanting to sleep. They missed the nod Bruce gave Tim and Damian, and they missed the dark and knowing looks on Jason’s and Dick’s face. The walk back to the room was long, and more exhausting than usual. The events of today caught up to them and Y/N wanted nothing more than to cry, scream, and then go to sleep. 

Because why not. 

“Y/N, you are making a mistake.” Dick followed after their younger sibling, who only sped up to get away from them. The man grabbed Y/N’s forearm, “Y/N, listen! You don’t want to do this.” 

“What is ‘this’ you are talking about Dick? I am literally just going home. It is not a big deal.” Y/N tried to pull their arm away from Dick, but to no avail. 

“It's how you are doing it Y/N. All we want is to spend time with you and make up for the lost time!” Y/N wanted to scream at Dick, but held it in and instead gritted out, “Why didn’t you do it normally then? Like… texting or calling.” Dick pouted, those blue eyes looking sad and his lower lip jutting out like a toddler, “We missed you, and we just wanted to see you.” 

Y/N’s face was scrunched, their mouth open in disgust, “How can you say that with that look on your face as if you all weren’t the ones who ignored me?” Dick looked heartbroken and some part of Y/N felt bad about that. They remembered the room with the photos and the other side of Dick that they saw only a few days ago. Their body seized in terror, but Y/N tried to keep their expression neutral. 

“Look, Dick, once again I am not mad about how my time here was spent. I’m genuinely not. But you guys keep throwing it back in my face and saying such contradicting things, of course I’m going to get upset about it.” They are trying to be civil. Trying so desperately to be civil and it feels like it is not working. Old wounds and painful memories continued to be dragged out of the crevices of their minds like it was some type of zoo attraction. 

A 16-year-old Y/N stared at the shattered mirror, tears racing down their face as they stared at their broken reflection. All they could see were the imperfections everyone continued to call out. Comparing them to their mother, to other models, to society’s twisted views of beauty that Y/N is trying to be. 

If their mother was alive, would she know what to say? Would she gaze at them with those soft eyes and long lashes, smiling beautifully and whispering, “Diamonds have never been made with gentle hands.” Continuing to remind Y/N that modeling was not a gentle job. It wasn’t a job for those with paper skin or glass bones. Those easily hurt by the meanest of comments, nastiest looks, and the horrendous words never made it in this industry.

Would this have been easier if they had the support of Bruce and his kids? 

Labored breaths and broken sobs filled room-turned-practice room as the mirrors caught the sight of a teenager breaking down. Crumbling and shattering under the pressure, pricking their fingers as they cleaned up the broken mirror and picking up their shattered image. 

It will be those same mirrors that watched those broken shards form their glass castle, posing as diamonds to deter others from trying to break in. 

Y/N continued to walk down the long hallway, ignoring Dick’s calls and locking the door behind them. It was only 2pm, and Y/N had plans to sleep the rest of the day. They had no bags to pack, and nothing here they felt like taking. All they needed to do is sleep the day away, which will be easy, wake up tomorrow, call a cab and skedaddle out of here. 

“Thats all we have to do, Y/N.” They closed their eyes for what only felt like a few minutes, until jostling and whispers of their name had them groggily opening their eyes. A yawn escaping them and their eyes struggled to open. 

“Why are you in my room?” Tim gave a small huff, “Its dinner time.” Y/N buried their face in their pillow, groaning out a ‘not hungry.’ The young man hummed, “I think you should come down for this one, Y/N. You might get the answers you want.” 

“Not interested.” Tim leaned down, his breath tickling Y/N’s ear, “You’re glass castle is shattering, Y/N. Don’t you want help fixing it?” Y/N wanted to swing. They wanted to do something to get their point across that they wanted almost nothing to do with this crazy family anymore. 

They opted to glare, and Tim gave a soft smile, “C’mon, lets go eat. Besides, Alfred said that the cab won’t be coming for you if you don’t eat dinner.” 

“Alfie!” Y/N groaned into the pillow, and they had stopo themselves from throwing up their arms and legs in a fit. Leave it to Alfred to do something so diabolical. Groaning one more time, Y/N sat up and mentally braced themselves for this shitshow of a dinner. 

E/C eyes looked at the door they know they locked, and chose that whatever little bickerment that will start was not worth it at this point in time. Throwing their legs over the bed, they followed Tim out of the room and towards the dining room. 

Everyone was there, and waiting for Y/N to appear. Once again, they were made to sit between Bruce and Damian, which they did so with little complaint. 

“Now, Y/N, it looks like everyone has some explaining to do.” Y/N gave Bruce the driest most unimpressed face they could muster, to which the man took with a smile, “So, what questions do you want answered?” 

‘They’re really doing this.’ Y/N could feel another headache forming, but decided to take the brightly colored bait. Looking at Jason, who was meeting their gaze with his green eyes waiting for this question, Y/N asked, “What did you mean when you said ‘Bruce sees it too.’” The man smirked, meeting Bruce’s eyes and back to Y/N, “Exactly that. The old man finally sees what you are to this messed up family.” 

Y/N narrowed their gaze, taking a bite of the pasta, and chewing slowly. Dick decided to chime in, “Y/N, you have been loved by us for a while. Something you probably pieced together, but Bruce took a while to see it because… well because you’re not us.” 

“Not like, you’re not Robin, but more like you’re not…” 

“You’re fragile.” Everyone’s head turned to Damian, and Y/N had half the idea to be upset about that. They raised an eyebrow, but before they could say anything Damian continued, “You are not meant for this life we lead. Vigilantism never suited you, and that is something I picked up on when I first came here.” 

When Damian had first met Y/N, it was like seeing a rare flower that had to be protected at all costs. Y/N was something that at the slightest gesture, could be hurt. When people come across something ethereal like that, the need to protect it can be divided into two different directions. 

Hovering or distancing. 

Bruce chose to distance himself, whether he knew it or not, and Damian had followed suit. He watched as his older sibling hovered from a distance, watching the rare flower bloom before it was finally the right time to engage with it. 

“Y/N, it isn’t so much that I didn’t want to interact with you, it is that I didn’t know how.” Bruce looked into his child’s eyes, “How could I interact with someone who needed gentle hands, when there is not a gentle bone in my body.” Bruce’s hands have broken more bones than the human body has. He has scars on his skin and calluses on the palm of his hands. 

“It took me a while to figure out why, but once I did, your absence became suffocating.” Everyone had been gasping for air, doing everything in their power for the slightest piece of oxygen. It was the fear of Y/N being harmed that kept them collared and chained to the photos, every interview, every runway show. 

However, Bruce knows that every now and then, children should be able to spread their wings and fall. Y/N ended up flying, soaring above them and never looking back down. Bruce, and the family, decided to give Y/N a year. Just one on their own. This gave them all plenty of time to improve the glass terrarium that they wanted Y/N to be placed back in. This time they will be protected and paid attention too. 

“When everyone stated that I can finally see the impact you have on this family, it means I have to come to terms with the fact that I no longer want to be hands off with your life and career.” Y/N’s brow furrowed, not liking the term ‘hands off.’ 

“You have done great on your own. A fabulous job. Clawing your way up and making a name for yourself, I am so proud of you. Everyone is extremely proud of you. 

However, there is no need for you to struggle anymore. You’ve proven yourself, now let us take care of the rest.” Y/N felt shivers go down their spine as they stared at their family in fear. They took in each expression, and when they made eye contact with Jason, the other had a daring look in his eyes. Begging for Y/N to do something, similar to how predators hope for their prey to fight back to make the kill all the more interesting. 

“But… But I don’t need your help, Bruce. I can do this on my own.” Bruce’s smile was that of honey, luring in unsuspecting insects and trapping them in its viscous fluid. If Y/N were younger, they may have fallen for it. They may have allowed themselves to coat their fingers in sugary words and sweet gestures, just so they could feel the love from a father. 

“I know. We know, but you don’t need to anymore.” 

“Now wait a minute-no. No no no no. You can’t just do that, explain yourself, and expect me to just roll with it.” Y/N set their napkin down, and tried to stand from the table, “I don’t need your help, although thank you for wanting to I guess. I am fine with it just being me and Maya.” 

“About that…” Dick grimaced, handing Y/N his phone and pulled up was an article. 

Y/N’s eyes widened and the world around them went cold. THey looked back up, “You’re lying.” Dick shook his head, fake empathy across his face as Y/N continued to read the article.

“No. NO this is a joke and a terrible one. Maya would never–” 

“They were found in her apartment, Y/N.” The headlines, eerily similar to ones from five year ago, flashed across the small phone screen. 

Manager of Model Y/N L/N Suspected of Drug Usage

Y/N wanted to cry. Horrible flashbacks resurfacing and tears pricking their eyes. They turned to Bruce who was still sitting and eating his pasta.

“Bruce, please. I know Maya, she would never do this.” The man said nothing. Y/N bit their lip, “Bruce… Bruce please. If its because of what I said then take that out on me. Please leave Maya out of it.

“Please Bruce! I know Maya. She’d never do that, and–and Bruce please.” Y/N was whimpering now, tears streaming down their face as the thought of losing their manager, the last person they had, nearly had them collapsing to their knees. 

“Lets make a deal, Y/N.” Bruce wiped the corner of his lips, and grabbed Y/N’s thin wrist. 

“You come home more often, during breaks and whatnot. I won’t have a lot of control over your modeling schedule, but make sure you include time each week for family. The only exception is when you are out of the country.” Y/N stared at Bruce in confusion, but nodded along. 

“In return, Maya gets out of trouble. Nothing will change other than the weekly meeting with family.”  Y/N can’t breathe. They cannot breathe and there were eyes all on them. Gulping down on whatever air they can get a hold of, Y/N sobbed out, “Why are you going to such lengths?” 

Bruce stood, and even though Y/N is tall, no one compares to Bruce’s towering figure. He smiled down at the model, and cupped a wet cheek with a calloused hand. Ice blue eyes stared into watery E/C eyes, and that smile turned too sharp to not be hidden blade, “I told you. It is too make up for lost time. Plus, as those photos suggest, you need protection. What better protection could you have that is not only part of the family, but also vigilantes?

“While it is true that diamonds are never made without pressure, diamond-encrusted jewlery require gentle hands and patience.” Bruce kissed Y/N’s temple, and the model flinched away. Ice blue met their eyes once more, “Now pick, Y/N. Either way, you will still be meeting us once a week, but you can have someone you know at your side or someone under my command.” 

+++++

“And cut! Good job everyone!” The flashes from the camera stopped and the stage lighting turned off, no longer blinding everyone within the room. Y/N stood up from the red couch, a smile still on their lips as they thanked the photographers. 

“Y/N, as always, perfect shots!” 

“Good job Y/N!” 

“Thank you for doing this, Y/N!” They continued to smile and acknowledge everyone that passed by, Maya right behind as they walked back to the changing room. Sitting on the couch was Jason’s large form and Tim’s lithe one. Both of them looking up as Y/N entered, ignoring Maya’s flinch. 

“You have a birthday gala you need to catch. Come on, change out of that and lets go.” Leave it to Jason to get the message across. Y/N nodded, taking to the changing room where they know their clothes are already waiting for them. They could hear Tim interrogating Maya in the politist way. Clipped words and empty praises. 

“Y/N they came out of nowhere! They stormed in and went straight to a vent where these-these drugs were! I’ve never even seen those there before! Let alone know that there was a vent!” Maya cried into Y/N’s shoulder as Dick and Damian watched on. 

Emerging from the changing room in jeans and a crew neck, Y/N sighed, “Alright, shall we get going?” Jason stood up and Tim shook Maya’s sweaty hand. Y/N gave his manager a nod, signalling for her to take the rest of the day off. Jason’s large hand rested on the small of Y/N’s back, and Tim led the way to the new car that Bruce bought. 

The ride was only two hours, filled with light conversation and catching up. Once at the mansion, Y/N greeted Alfred with a hug. Not as tight as they normally are, but it felt wrong entering the mansion without hugging Alfred. Bruce entered the foyer and grinned, hugging Y/N and kissing their temple. 

“Your clothes are in your room, and there is another present on behalf of Damian and Jason.” Y/N nodded, “Thanks, Bruce.” The man smiled, “Come and eat dinner when you are done. We’ll have enough time before the Gala to at least eat something.” Y/N began walking away, each step up the stairs feeling like there was lead on their feet stopping them from going any further. 

Once in the room, the locked the door and on the bed was a box and black and gold clothing. The black looking like it was made out of silk, and the gold was sequin. Y/N carefully walked towards the box, and when they lifted the lid, a white kitten mewed at them. Their fur still looking young and their eyes bluer than Bruce’s. They mewed and mewed, and Y/N could feel tears streaming down their face. 

In neat cursive and tied around the bow of the box, was a small note, ‘We’ll watch her when you decide to leave the country.’ 

Y/N bit their lip, and felt as if their world was falling a part once more. Broken glass surrounding them and no matter where they stepped, their feet will end up bleeding. Now forced to rely on their family to carry them out of the mess they made, and now… now there was a lifeform that this family can and most likely will use against them.  

Thin fingers gently picked up the cat and gave it a wobbly smile, as she mewed at Y/N. A red collar already around her neck, tied in a perfect bow. 

“Y/N, the makeup artists are here. Are you ready?” Wiping their tears, Y/N set the kitten down and took in the black and gold piece once more. 

“Not yet, but they can come in. I’ll get dressed afterwards.” 

“Alright.” The door opened, despite Y/N locking it, and it was Dick smiling as he let in the two artists who were now scrambling to get set up. Blue eyes traveled from the cat, to the clothes, and back to Y/N. He grinned and stalked closer to his younger sibling that was now being corralled into sitting in front of the makeup artist. 

He picked up the kitten and passed her for Y/N to hold, whispering in their ears, “Happy Birthday, Y/N.” 

______________________________________________________________

Honestly... I really like this series. I think I'm going to do other stories but in the other characters POV now.

[genericpuff]

Are there any characters from LO that you actually like/don’t mind

I have a lot more appreciation for Minthe now with all the hindsight that Hades and Persephone are often way worse than she is. She still had a lot of issues on her own end that she didn't deal with well, and while I would have liked to see her actually develop properly beyond her struggles both internal and with Hades, I think the best thing we could have asked for was Minthe being written out of the story the way she was. At least then Rachel couldn't continue to use her as a punching bag (she just tagged in Leuce for that, sigh)

Helios is great, zero issue with him. This scene is a lot funnier and more relatable to read in hindsight:

like ofc Helios is gonna rat on her, he's the fucking sun who's been around for thousands of years, why would he put any more of his limited freedom on the line for macaroni art LMAO (and yes, Rachel herself confirmed that Persephone made macaroni art cards for Helios, it's like... yeah okay it's cute but Persephone and Demeter still hid a crime from Zeus, the sentimental value of the birthday cards have no bearing on that LOL)

Thanatos is also in the camp of "characters I appreciate more in hindsight and wish got better character development". Adding in the 'twist' that he was Hades' adoptive son after we just spent nearly two seasons watching Hades treat him like just a lowly employee who didn't deserve his respect was certainly... a choice. And I don't think I should have to explain why it was a very very BAD one LOL

Hephaestus is also great, I know he's an extremely minor character whose only real role was to delete the blackmail photos from Apollo's phone but, like. look at him???

amazing. precious. sweet boy. and it has absolutely nothing to do with my absent older brother issues why would you say that- (｡•́︿•̀｡) that said, there are still flaws in his design (his prosthetics especially because he's constantly wearing running blades for every occasion which I feel like Rachel only chose because they "looked cool" and were "easier to draw" but like. his poor hips and back, that's gotta be uncomfortable 😭) but even just his face on its own is ironically one of the most unique character designs across the entire cast, not for any sort of outstanding or creative reasons, you just can't possibly mistake or color swap him with anyone else LMAO and though I can't feasibly give credit to Rachel for writing a neurodivergent character - because I have no clue if that was her intention here, afaik she's never really talked about it - I can wholly relate to him being the introverted computer guy who just wants to be left alone with his work and his airpods, like that's literally just me LOL

And of course nothing Rachel could ever do would make me hate Demeter, I think it's so ironic and tone deaf that Rachel claimed she "didn't get" why Demeter was so hated by the fans and didn't "agree" with the comparisons to Mother Gothel, but like... Rachel literally wrote her that way. And while she did "resolve" it, it wasn't with any actual empathy towards Demeter's own side of things, it was just bandaids on top of bandaids and then going "yep! She's all better now! That's character development!" Out of all the characters who deserved better, she was the one who deserved the most 😔💓

[hookedonhuge]

Ass-Man

If someone were to describe you there are only two words that would do you justice: ass and man. It was as simple as that. You’re a man and you love ass, and above all else, you love a man with a nice ass.

You were never shy about your adoration for men with nice round, smack-able backsides. However, there was one person that you kept this well-known secret from. It was your housemate. Your thick, caked-up housemate.

Despite how shameless your ass obsession was, you thought it was too much for your housemate to know just how obsessed you were with his assets. You might be an ‘Ass Man’ but you still had the decency to let your housemate live his day-to-day life without feeling constantly objectified.

In your head though, you did objectify him. It was hard to remember that there was a human behind those fat yet firm cheeks. You found it difficult to make eye contact with him, let alone get your gaze above waist height!

You’d often think to yourself: “Geez I know I need to stop staring at his ass and just treat him like he’s a regular guy but sometimes it’s so damn hard and he wears those silky shorts that accentuates his butt oh so well and every time I’m behind him he’s always bending over for some reason like he is trying to tease me but he’s so completely unaware at the same time and talks to me like a friend and not like I’m some ass loving weirdo.”

Besides the occasional cheeky glance at his behind, you never once succumbed and touched his magnificent booty, let alone made any comments about his rear-end (and your adoration for it) around him. But some nights it was just that little bit harder to contain yourself around him. Some nights you would take that extra step and go looking into places that you weren’t meant to see. That’s what you had done tonight. You went looking for trouble.

It had been a hot day. Your housemate got home from work and headed straight for his room. He took off his work clothes, crashed on his bed and pulled down his underwear to let his sweaty butt breathe. You had been eagerly waiting all day for him and his butt to come home, and you couldn’t handle not being able to take a quick glance. That’s how you ended up looking at his crack through the crack of his door, that he irresponsibly didn’t fully close.

Getting to see his naked butt, free from the constraints of fabric, was everything you dreamed about and more. The temptation to savour this moment with a photo was there, but too risky. Nevermind the fact that you couldn’t take your eyes away from it if you tried.

Watching him (or really his ass) through just a tiny slither between the door and the door frame soon became frustrating. You needed to see it in all its raw and unadulterated glory. Confident that he had passed out on his bed after his long workday, you started to slowly push the door more and more ajar.

It was all going well until the door betrayed you and decided to let out a mighty loud creak. You didn’t want to make the situation any worse by making sudden movements, but in hindsight (pardon the pun) perhaps you should have. Your housemate was quick to raise his upper body and turn his head around just enough to catch you taking a peek at him.

You thought maybe playing it cool was the way to go. You opened the door completely and tried to put on the performance of a lifetime.

“Oh sorry, I didn’t realise you were uh… sleeping and I just wanted to uh… ask…” Your face was a deep red and you were getting more flustered by the second. “Damn, is it me or is it a bit… hot in here?” You were sweating profusely. “It’s so hot… I can barely… think…” Your body felt heavy, your mind fuzzy, your vision blurry, and soon your whole world was coming crashing down… 

When you woke up you had a numb feeling throughout your body and you couldn’t move from the neck down. You wanted to yell out but you couldn’t as your lips had puckered and felt like they had been glued in that position. In fact, the more you tried to talk, the tighter your puckered lips felt. Your eyes darted around the room in a frenzy but you were locked into looking at a blank ceiling.

You felt a warm sensation in the sides of your mouth and your cheeks started to swell. Not like it was inflating with air, no, it was a different feeling. It was more like they were filling up with mass. You were sure you looked like a chipmunk with its mouth completely filled with acorns. 

The swelling did not stop there. Your cheeks kept fattening up, extending out a great distance from the side and front of your face. They were two round, fleshy orbs that were quickly taking up most of your peripheral vision and each of your expanding cheeks were now larger than your head. Your world was quickly descending into darkness as your cheeks were swallowing up your face. They grew to the point that the inner sides of each cheek touched in front of your puckered lips. This soon became rubbing as each cheek was fighting each other for limited space as they continued to balloon outwards.

Your vision was long gone and what was left of your face under your colossal cheeks felt like it had all mashed together into your tightly bound lips. The growth of your cheeks seemed to stop as a thin bit of fabric slid its way between your cheeks and pressed firmly against your puckered mouth. If you had to guess, each cheek was likely two to three times the size of your pre-swelled face. Another softer and more cushiony material hugged the bottom half of your severely bloated cheeks.

It was like your fat cheeks had buried you alive. You couldn’t scream for help, in fact you couldn’t move at all. You couldn’t even see or hear a thing. However, after what felt like a short eternity, a lifting of the thin material on your lips and the spreading of both your cheeks by a powerful force allowed for blinding light to finally flood back into your eyes. Once your vision had adjusted to the light, you finally saw what had become of you.

You were staring at your housemate’s gigantic ass (and it truly was gigantic, it had doubled in size since you last saw it) and his butthole was staring right into your soul. That’s when you realised you were looking into a mirror. That butthole was actually you staring at yourself. You had become what you desired most: your housemate’s big, fat bubble butt.

“You’ve added so much size to my ass,” your housemate groaned in pleasure. “My fit, tight bubble butt has exploded into a fat, jiggly dump truck, and it’s all your fault!” He put on a fake whiny tone as he said this, but in reality he was enjoying every second of teasing you.

You tried to respond but your puckered butthole-lips wouldn’t budge. “Oh, are you trying to say something?” He parted your fat cheeks even more with his powerful hands, allowing your lips to open slightly. A small toot of air escaped out of your mouth before your lips closed again. It served as a sobering reminder that being your housemate’s butt meant dealing with his digestive system too.

“Do you feel blessed or cursed by this little predicament you’ve found yourself in?” Your housemate asked with an air of sincerity. “Knowing how much you love my ass I bet you’d be grinning ear to ear, if you could!” He let out a thunderous laugh that caused your cheeks to jiggle slightly. “I’d like to know if you still feel the same way after a day of being my ass, let alone a lifetime.” It dawned on you that this wasn’t some crazy dream.

“By the way…” Your housemate removed his hands from his butt, causing his thong to snap back into your lips like a whip and your cheeks to accelerate towards each other. They slammed into each other with a loud, satisfying clap which sent shockwaves of jiggles rippling through them. “Don’t get used to staring at my ass, that’s the privilege that your old self had. Your new self is going to be experiencing pitch-black darkness ninety-nine percent of the time.” Your housemate chuckled as he gave his butt an open-palmed smack. It hurt, but you were never going to get sick of the way your jelly-like cheeks wobbled in response to the impact.

“It’s time to go to work.” Your housemate sighed with disappointment. “Well, today will test whether staring at my ass for all that time was worth it or not.” If you were capable of gulping you would have. You had no clue if you were in hell or heaven. One thing was for certain, your housemate turned owner was certainly not going to make your new life easy.

“I’ll let you in on a little secret.” Your housemate said ominously. “I never really minded you staring. Maybe if you were more forthcoming about being infatuated with my behind, you could have avoided this fate. Anyway, I’ll never know if you’re happy about this or not, but I sure know I am! And since you are a part of me, shouldn’t my happiness be enough?”

You didn’t know what to make of your housemate’s sentiment, but he had a point. You can’t change what has now happened so you might as well try to make the most of it. You were once a self-proclaimed ‘Ass Man’ and now you’ve evolved into an ‘Ass-Man’. You’ve alway loved ass so logically you should love yourself more in your new state. It was easy to think that way, but ass your housemate but on his work pants, your world got even darker and a hell of a lot stuffier. If you still had lungs, then these cramped and claustrophobic conditions would have quickly felled you. 

But ‘Ass-Man’ doesn’t need oxygen and he will soldier on, for better or worse… 

[ponett]

On the wiki gg slarpg wiki, there's a family portrait-esq piece of artwork on zinnia's page of her, verena and the boys. it doesn't have a source and i can not find it for the life of me. so i was curious if that was posted publicly or not.

I can't remember if I've ever posted it publicly, but that's really just because it spoils the game's ending. It's been shared in my Patreon Discord, and I think I gave my blessing to post it to the wiki? I've known it's there and I'm cool with it being there, so, y'know, either way it's fine.

I'll put the image in question and an explanation of its origins below the cut.

(Again, spoilers for the ending of SLARPG, like for real big ones.)

So at one point in 2021 I needed a chunk of change, and Anthony gave it to me in exchange for some artwork. One of the things he requested was Verena and the boys, because the boys were his personal pet characters for the game and I hadn't even drawn their battle artwork yet at that point, so he really wanted to see me draw them. He suggested I draw something set after the game's ending, "post-Javis," with the comment that Verena would basically end up as their mom. I added Zinnia because, well, duh. And then I did it in the style of like a shitty Walmart photo studio family portrait. Because I think that's funny.

And so this image was born

In hindsight I wish I'd given Verena and Zinnia rings in this, but I don't think I'd quite decided that they were married at that point. I was still working on the ending.

Fun fact: Killer Ray's in-game portrait is a crop of this drawing! Because his head and hard to draw and I didn't feel like drawing it again for the portrait lmao

[midnightsnyx]

girl at home | mat barzal | part 1

pairing: mat barzal x fem!reader summary: you're eighteen when you find yourself pregnant after Mat leaves for hockey. nearly eight years later, Mat finds out about your daughter and you have to deal with the consequences of not telling him about her.

warnings: mentions of pregnancy & not really edited word count: 1.3k authors note p1: don't mind me starting a new series when i have four other wips on the go :):) i love kid fics and this idea was stuck in my head so i wrote & decided to give it a go and post it. if this does well and you guys are interested, i'll do more. authors note p2: so notes about the series: i gave the readers daughter a name because i hate writing y/d/n lol of course you can change it in your head to something else if you want :) also the last name johnson is just there so i could have a full name but we all know she'll be a barzal also thank u @multifandombabes for giving me the push to post this!! happy reading & let me know what you guys think!

masterpost

In hindsight, you should have realized that it was bound to happen sooner rather than later. You did your best to avoid places you knew he would be when he was home, going to visit your grandparents or other family. Anywhere that would give you the opportunity to not be seen by him, because then you’d have to explain your brown haired, green eyed, seven year old. 

You weren’t proud of your choice to keep Nora a secret from Mat but you did what you thought was right when you were eighteen, sitting on the floor of your best friend’s bathroom four weeks after you had said goodbye to Mat and staring at three positive pregnancy tests. He had just left for hockey and you didn’t want to be what held him back and as time went on, it got harder to pick up the phone so a few months after Nora was born, you erased Mathew Barzal from your life. You deleted the photos, phone numbers, social media, with the only reminder being the little girl.

And it worked fine. Until now.

Nora usually didn’t come grocery shopping with you because you always ended up taking three times as long as you normally would. Except, your sitter fell through and your mom couldn’t watch her so you had to bring her along. Which is totally fine until you run into Mat. Who has a girl with him. 

So yeah, everything was fine until now.

It’s kind of comical the way his panicked eyes dart between the three of the girls standing around him. A quick glance at Nora confirms that she’s two seconds away from saying something to Mat which will not go well since the kid has zero filter.

“Hey, you’re that hockey player mama and grandma watch on TV!” she exclaims and you want to melt straight through the floor when Mat looks at you with one eyebrow raised. 

“Yeah?” he asks, kneeling down so he’s at her level.

“Yeah,” she confirms, and then loudly whispers: “I’m not supposed to watch ‘cause some games are past my bedtime but sometimes I’ll sneak out.” 

He offers his hand and smiles. “Well, it’s nice to meet you…” he trails off, clearly hoping she’ll offer her name. You hope she just says her first name instead of announcing her full name which she tends to do lately.

“Nora,” she tells him, shaking his hand and then to your unsurprised horror, she proudly tells him her full name. “Nora Nadia Johnson.” 

He keeps the smile on his face but stiffens and gently drops her hand. 

“Cool name,” he says, still smiling but you can see the tension in his shoulders. 

“Thanks! My first name means light and my middle name-”

She doesn’t get a chance to finish her sentence because you grab her hand, abandon your shopping cart and high tail it out of the store. She grumbles while trying to keep up with your pace and eventually you just pick her up and carry her to the car.

“What did we say about talking to strangers?” you ask while buckling her seatbelt, ignoring her annoyed sighs. 

“He wasn’t a stranger, you watch him on the TV all the time.”

“Have you ever met him?” you ask, raising an eyebrow and she mumbles something under her breath.

“What was that?”

“No,” she mumbles, crossing her arms over her chest and giving you a look that is so Mathew that you could laugh.

“Well then, he’s a stranger.” 

You leave it at that because she starts talking about the summer camp she’s starting next week. You’re only half listening, trying to get over the shock of seeing Mat and knowing he realizes that he probably has a kid you never told him about. If you were in his shoes, you would be angry so you are expecting him to show up on your doorstep later that evening but he doesn’t. Part of you wonders if the reason he doesn’t come is because of that girl he had with him but you figure if he really wanted answers, he would come regardless. 

What you’re not expecting, is a text from his sister Liana. You still see his family from time to time out in public but after you essentially ghosted Mat, they didn’t really want anything to do with you. When everybody found out you were pregnant, you lied and said it wasn’t Mat’s which nobody really believed but they couldn’t prove it and you’d used your mothers maiden name as Nora’s last name so there were no ties. You were surprised that his family didn’t tell him anyways, but you thought that perhaps they didn’t for the same reason you didn’t.

To give Mat no reason to stay here and instead, pursue his dreams and go play in the NHL. 

So a text from his sister is unexpected. 

Liana: hey, are you free for lunch tmw?

You almost delete it at first and pretend she never messaged you, but you know that there’s no going back now that Mat saw Nora. He’s not stupid. He probably went home and asked his parents about her. So you text her back a reluctant yes and agree on a spot to meet up the next day.

Nora goes to your moms house because you’re unsure if it will just be Liana who shows up, or if anyone else does. You meet up at a Starbucks and aside from the initial tension, it melts almost immediately and the two of you go back to the big sister/little sister relationship you had when you and Mat were dating. Except now, she’s all grown up.

After some catching up, the conversation turns to the reason she asked to see you. She hesitates, picking at her nails - a nervous tick you know she does - before sighing. 

“Look, everybody kind of turned their head with ‘The Nora Situation’ because it was clearly what you wanted, and it was probably what was best for Mat,” she says. “But he knows now, and he’s got questions that we can’t and won’t answer. Dad had to talk him down last night and his girlfriend went back to New York this morning.”

You wince at that, not liking that the reason his girlfriend left is because of Nora but Liana must notice because she shrugs, taking a sip of her drink.

“Honestly, she wasn’t very nice. I’m not broken up over it and Mat didn’t seem to be either.” 

Okay, that is interesting. 

“Anyway,” she continues, “this is Mat’s new number.” She slides a small piece of paper across the table and you gingerly take it. “I know you didn’t want to tell him, and I understand but he knows. So give him a chance, okay?”

You manage a nod and let her leave with the final word. All you want to do is take Nora and leave, to get as far away as you can but something inside you stops you from doing it because maybe Liana is right, and you should give Mat a choice. After all, you were the one who decided to take it away from him in the beginning. 

So later that night, after Nora is asleep, you curl up on your couch with the piece of paper and stare at it for a good fifteen minutes. Regardless of whether or not you text him, you will have to deal with this and you’d rather it be on your terms. You reluctantly type his new number in your phone and hesitate, trying to think of what to even say. This isn’t a conversation you were expecting to have with him. You type and delete a dozen messages before deciding on something simple.

To Mathew: Hey, I guess we should talk.

You take a deep breath, and hit send.

[avatartophblindbanditbeifong]

Time of the Season for Lovin’

Miles Morales x Reader

771 words

Summary: an arrangement of how Miles’s love for you transcends the seasons

In the winter, you and Miles go ice skating at his request because he thought it would be cute and romantic. The thought of gliding across the ice with you, drinking hot chocolate in Central Park with your fingers enlaced in his seemed like the perfect date. In hindsight, Miles should have known that his “well thought out” plan would not be executed in the way he intended it to. The main factor being: he did not know how to ice skate. When Miles first stepped foot on the ice, he wobbled and slipped like a baby deer walking for the first time. Throughout the date, you opted to hold his hand and guide him around the rink. You guffawed when Miles held onto you in fright whenever a smaller kid zoomed past you, “How is he going that fast!” and when he slipped and fell, bringing you down with him on multiple occasions. If this were any other instance, Miles would have gotten embarrassed by his lack of coordination on the ice, but with you, he would forever make a fool out of himself just to hear the sonic laughter emit from your lips and the magnetic smile that accompanied it.

In the spring, you and Miles go to The Metropolitan Museum of Art. It was a rare weekday in Brooklyn where disaster seemed to have come to a halt. Meaning, some villain of the week wasn’t trying to wreak havoc just to get their photo on the front cover of the newspaper. With balance came serenity, which meant Brooklyn’s friendly neighborhood Spider-Man had a day off and, instead of patrolling the streets, he was with you. You held Miles’s hand in yours while you loitered in front of each and every single painting and statue, admiring its detail. Beside you, Miles was doing the same thing, except he was admiring you and the way the gallery lights cast shadows on your face, committing your form into his memory so he could add you to his very own art exhibit.

In the summer, at a rooftop cookout hosted by his parents, you and Miles sneak off hand in hand to the water tower. You snicker as you try to dodge touchy-feely tia’s and invasive questioning from family and friends. The fairy lights emitted from the area, and the conversation and music from beneath you were a mere buzz from up there. You and Miles sat on the wood floor, feet dangling off the edge, eating Pinchos de Pollo. The sun had set long ago. The two of you basked in the cool summer breeze that blew past while you talked about things that wouldn’t matter by the end of the night. When you spoke, however, Miles listened intently, observing your visage and its features. Miles thought you were so beautiful without even trying. Time didn’t exist at that moment for him. It reminded him of the summer before ninth grade, when he spent almost every day in your company and building himself up to confess his feelings for you. That summer felt so nostalgic to him now, and in that moment, Miles fell in love with the feeling of falling in love with you for the first time.

In the fall, you and Miles stay in for the evening and bake cookies. Or at least attempt to. It started with a flick of flour on your face as you were taking measurements. Then, it quickly escalated into cracked eggs on brown curls, smeared chocolate on cheeks and noses, flour bombs, and roughhousing. The mess you two caused in the kitchen didn’t get noticed until Miles surrendered; there was no way you and him were going to be baking again tonight and watching a movie as planned, he thought. The cleanup process wasn’t any more productive than the baking was, with teasing jabs here and playful shoves there. Miles swears he didn’t intend on throwing you off course, but the breathless laughs and squeals he got out of you in the process were worth the mess. Although he wouldn't tell that to your mother. By the time the condiments were washed out of your hair and everything was cleaned up, you and Miles had abandoned your kitchen and decided for Insomnia Cookies instead.

————————————————————— •

[skepticbeliever-bookclub]

O' our beloved fellow shippers & readers

This week we celebrated our 100th round. That means we have been doing this long enough to have read 100 fics give or take since the founding of our sweet little club. This mod is honoured to be at the helm of a fun practice that has brought quite a few of us together and introduced us to some great titles. In celebration, we decided to host a Renaissance Round. This meant, we wanted nominations from any of the first 31 reads we've done as a club and would you believe it? The members voted in the very first fic we ever read as a club.

Made it so Far in Time by addandsubtract

This is one of those true underrated classics. Written in 2018 Buzzfeed era but so prescient with characterisation, many of the members couldn't help picturing 2022!Ryan with the above pictured Shane in college. Time-travel really gave us a gift and this fic gave us all we needed for a world where the guy in this photo meets a Ryan who already knows him.

Rating: E

Summary: “I’m, uh. I’m pretty sure the you I’m friends with is older,” Ryan says, and then winces.

Book Club Thoughts

i appreciate, as well, that if anyone's going to end up with this weird time travel situation and just roll with it, it would be them. like yeah, ryan could freak out, but shane is there which is a calming factor. and shane's brain is probably just frozen (both by what's happening and by the hot guy who just woke up in his room)

I would love to read a Shane pov of this. And how this changes everything

What fascinates me throughout the fic is how much less guarded college Shane is

this fic is so cute and good I want to just hold it in my mouth

I love the plot twist of Shane actually caring about Ryan a lot, because with time travel scenarios you think "oh he probably forgot about this" but here we have Shane in deep very much in love with Ryan for 10 years maybe more

so much of the hindsight of their situation is muted behind what Shane doesn't say in these scenes but his body language is explosive with years of pining and dashed hopes

Also imagine being like 20 and losing your vcard to a 28 year old Ryan bergara

what i thought was so interesting was that young!shane was kind of a chill cool dude, like the early versions of shane characterization in the fandom, while the fully fledged adult shane was much closer to how we now characterize him

WOULD YOU LIKE TO JOIN US FOR OUR NEXT DISCUSSION? CHECK OUT THE FAQ, AND SEND US AN ASK! IF YOU’RE LOOKING FOR FIC RECS, PLEASE CHECK OUT OUR READS, NOMINEES AND BOOK CLUB REC LISTS!

[supernovafics]

✧∘ଂ ࿐ ཾ 𝑳𝑬𝑻𝑻𝑬𝑹 𝑺𝑬𝑽𝑬𝑵. ✭・.・✫・゜・。.

pairing: ex-bestfriend!steve x fem!reader

word count: 686 words

warnings: explicit language

series masterlist | last part — next part

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。. .・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。.

❝ 𝒕𝒆𝒍𝒍 𝒎𝒆 𝒕𝒉𝒂𝒕 𝒚𝒐𝒖'𝒓𝒆 𝒔𝒕𝒊𝒍𝒍 𝒎𝒊𝒏𝒆. 𝒕𝒆𝒍𝒍 𝒎𝒆 𝒕𝒉𝒂𝒕 𝒘𝒆'𝒍𝒍 𝒃𝒆 𝒋𝒖𝒔𝒕 𝒇𝒊𝒏𝒆. ❞

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。. .・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。.

Dear Steve,

It’s honestly hard to say for sure if I don’t have feelings for you anymore. The obvious answer should be no since we haven’t talked to each other in so long. But, full transparency, there was no moment where I realized that I no longer liked you in that way. Instead, the feelings just got buried deep down and pushed to the side because there was nowhere else for them to go.

I think it actually would be better if I didn’t like you anymore because all I want for us is to at least be friends again. I just wanna be able to talk to you again, about nothing but also everything, sit in your car again, watch a movie with you that you’d probably hate again.

Quite literally do anything with you again. And I especially don’t want to mess things up this time around. 

Anyway, let’s talk about the mundane shit I would be telling you, or probably would have already told you, if we were actually talking right now.

I definitely would have told you that I am still in California and I’m currently going to college here. 

Also, I’m a film major, which may come as a surprise, but also maybe not? My movie obsession was already pretty strong in Hawkins, and it only became so much more serious here, so in my mind, it was pretty inevitable. I am also (sadly) minoring in accounting to make my parents somewhat happy. 

I honestly don’t know exactly what I want to do in film just yet, but I’m working on a set right now for this indie movie, and that’s really cool. I’m only getting coffees and lunches for everyone and doing other busy work, but I still love the environment.

I also live with the most insane roommate in the world (in hindsight, I should have never taken her number off one of those boards where people offer their tutoring and dog-walking services). But, the apartment we have is really close to a beach so it makes the shitty roommate situation slightly okay. The beach honestly reminds me a lot of the one we went to that first summer. The boardwalk has the same energy and there’s a photo booth right outside a crappy arcade. But, the ocean doesn’t feel scary here. 

I remember that summer we both had been too nervous to get in the water. Even though we’d swim in your pool practically all of the time, there was just something so daunting about those waves.  

This beach is different, so much calmer, I think you’d like it just as much as I do. The first time I stepped foot in the sand there, I thought of you. 

It’s always the most random of things that remind me of you. And even the most mundane things too. Like, over a week ago I was walking to class and I saw some guy wearing those pair of Nikes that you used to wear religiously in middle school. And I softly laughed because I remembered how many times I had begged you to get rid of those sneakers because of how destroyed they were and because they smelled so bad. But, you would always tell me that you could never get rid of them because they were your “lucky pair,” I never understood what you meant by that, so I would always just roll my eyes at that response. Eventually, you grew out of them though, thank God. 

I was gonna ask if you still think about me sometimes, but I don’t know if I wanna hear your answer because it could so easily be no. 

That’s probably the worst part about writing these letters. I have no idea where your head’s at with everything that happened. 

Maybe you’ve already somehow gotten your own closure with everything, so everything I wrote is pointless to you. Or maybe what we were is so far in the past for you that none of this even matters to you anymore.

There are so many fucking possibilities. And that nerve-wracking thought makes me really not wanna send these. 

Sincerely,

Y/N

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。. .・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。.

next part

[sophieinwonderland]

that’s an interesting and really cool observation— not many ancient stories of time travel to the past. do you have any thoughts to why that might be?

I wonder if it’s related to different values of the people, or maybe those who were storytellers had less regrets. Like what kind of background would an ancient storyteller come from? More likely to be of a higher class or a revered status. Or maybe there were stories of time travel to the past, but they’ve been lost to time/not passed down.

(Context)

I think these are some solid possibilities.

On not being passed down, that would make sense. Time travel narratives are complicated. Storytellers passing them on is going to be hard and will be difficult for a lot of people to grasp. Maybe popular stories we know today might have even once had time travel elements but were simplified over hundreds of years of retellings. It's one possibility.

I'm not sure about higher class people having fewer regrets. If anything, I think they might have more. Having social mobility means more opportunities to make mistakes. And being at the top means that when something goes wrong, you're more likely to be blamed and feel responsible.

And these were periods where one would think regrets would abound with so many wars, plagues and corruption everywhere.

The Photograph Theory

One possibility I've pondered is that technology might have changed how we perceive time.

The first photograph was in the 1820s.

Hans Christen Andersen's The Galoshes of Fortune was written in 1838.

The first colored photograph was was taken in the 1860s.

In 1881, came The Clock That Went Backwards. There are many more time travel books written after, leading to the concept truly taking off with The Time Machine by HG Wells.

One could argue that the pictures may have influenced how we view the past then.

Or Maybe Not...

But that might be too presumptuous. Trying to find patterns to explain things in hindsight.

A Supplement to the Journey to the West in 1640 depicts a sort of time travel to the past. But that's actually a dream so it's questionable if it counts. Also, Memoirs of the Twentieth Century was written in 1733 and depicted someone getting written messages from the future. So despite these playing with the idea of time travel in some ways, neither directly involve actually visiting or altering the past.

Maybe the relationship between time travel and the photo is coincidental. These later time travel stories might be evolutions of those mentioned above. (But probably not since I doubt A Supplement or the Journey to the West was that well known around the world, and Memoirs of the Twentieth Century had most copies destroyed.)

I like the photograph theory at least, but I'm not certain.

Maybe our concept of time changed because of how fast advancements were happening?

It's not that the world was static before the last few hundred years, but it's been changing faster than ever.

If someone writes a story set in the 1400s, it's not going to be that different of a world from one set in the 1300s. At least on a technological level.

In comparison, almost every few decades in recent history have been world-changing. Compare the 2010s to the 1980s. Compare the 80s to the 50s. The 50s to the 20s. The 20s to the 1890s.

It appears that the rate the world has changed has radically increased. This could then affect people's perceptions of this time.(But then, maybe that observation is just bias itself, a result of knowing certain eras better because they're more recent and we have pictures and videos from those time periods.)

Maybe this caused people to become more nostalgic for these lost eras? Eras they had personally lived through, and watched as the world changed?

No... this doesn't sit right with me either...

Even if technological advancement caused humans to become more nostalgic for past eras, that's not the only thing nostalgia should exist for, right?

What about nostalgia for kingdoms who were overthrown? For cities lost to natural disasters? To simpler times with loved ones lost?

Not all nostalgia should be tied to technology and advancement. Some should be more personal.

Back To The Future isn't about huge technological difference between the time periods. Not really. It's more a story about a kid learning about his parents and who they used to be, and making them into new people. The differences between eras are really just dressing on this personal story about Marty's relationship with his family.

And then you have Groundhog Day stories which are just... one day on repeat. These don't explore the speculative or historical side of time travel AT ALL.

Not to mention prophecy was a thing. People could always conceptualize getting information from the future. But physical objects and beings traveling to the past is unheard of.

Prophecy is Another Oddity

Almost every culture has stories involving precognition. There's always been interaction FROM the future.

But no time travelers anywhere. No spirits going back to the past. No gods. Not even objects until Memoirs of the Twentieth Century. So information can time travel in mythology, but literally nothing else can.

Despite time travel not existing in any fiction ever prior to the past couple hundred years, it's always been assumed by every culture on Earth that the future was something that people could just see.

In today's world with our understanding of physics, prophecy would only make sense as a form of time travel. Much like how light is just particles bouncing off of things and hitting us in the eyes, information about the future would need to be coming from the future. (Or be calculated somehow by understanding all the variables that could lead to that outcome in a predeterministic way.) But I don't think most ancient people saw it that way. And thus, never made the leap from information traveling back through time to entities and physical things traveling back through time.

[piotrtymcio]

Poidło

Canon EOS M100, EF-M22mm f/2 STM

[EN] This snow didn’t last long, but I managed to take plenty of photos. This week, however, my efforts haven’t been as fruitful. Here’s something that has always fascinated me in some way—a common method of watering cattle I often come across. An old bathtub. Why throw it away? You can place it in a field and use it to water animals. Occasionally top it up from a tanker, and every so often make a trip to refill the tanker.

When I was very little, my paternal grandparents lived in the countryside. What trips those were! The bus only went so far, and from there, you had to walk a certain distance. That distance felt monstrous to me back then, but in reality, it was only about two kilometers. The views were breathtaking—hills, valleys, dense forests. Today, I laugh at myself when I think about it. Only the forest still impresses me. I must have been four or five years old. I don’t even remember exactly when my grandparents moved. I think they were already living in the city by the time I started kindergarten. I remember my parents constantly warning me not to touch the electric fences around the fields. They told stories of parents who tried to rescue their electrocuted children, only to be killed themselves. A lesson in electrical conductivity. It wasn’t just a scare tactic. Many farmers back then, including my grandfather, I believe, ran electricity directly from the socket. 220V, and that was that.

Anyway, we were always greeted by a metal gate with diagonal crossbars. That’s stuck in my mind as a visualization of Sundays. I had such associations. Mondays, on the other hand, brought to mind the radio frequency dial on the popular Kasprzak radio. But that’s another story... Exploring the farm was an adventure like no other. Cows, chickens, pigs. A horse! The horse was named Bułan. I even had the chance to ride him—with adult supervision, of course. If Bułan was harnessed to a cart, I was allowed to drive it myself. Isn’t that cool? It was for me. Just like the time I found an old motorcycle in the hayloft! In fact, there were plenty of such treasures scattered across the farm—old rakes, mowers, and other equipment. It was so much fun! Climbing onto the seat of one of these machines and pretending to drive. Or wrestling with a lever trying to lift the rake tines.

You can tell I got a bit carried away, can’t you? I could go on forever. About mushroom-picking trips. About battling a rooster with a stick. About treasures in the attic! About the neighbor’s daughter, whose family didn’t get along with my grandparents. About climbing onto the shed roof. The more I write, the more I remember. Yes, it was a very happy early childhood. At least in hindsight. If I had any bad memories, I must have repressed them. I think without those experiences, my childhood would have been much poorer.

[PL] Ten śnieg leżał krótko ale zdążyłem narobić zdjęć. W tym tygodniu zaś, na razie, kiepsko mi to idzie. Tu rzecz która zawsze w jakiś sposób mnie fascynowała. To jedna z popularniejszych form pojenia bydła jaką spotykam. Stara wanna. Ot po co wyrzucać? Można postawić na pole i poić zwierzęta. Raz na jakiś czas dopuścić wody z cysterny. Trochę rzadziej zrobić kurs, w tą i z powrotem, aby napełnić cysternę wodą.

Jak byłem taki bardzo mały to moi dziadkowie od strony ojca mieszkali na wsi. Co to były za wycieczki? Autobus dojeżdżał tylko do pewnego miejsca. Dalej trzeba było przejść pewien dystans piechotą. Ta odległość wydawała mi się wtedy potworna. A w rzeczywistości to były ze dwa kilometry. Widoki zapierały dech w piersiach. Wzgórza, doliny. Gęsty las. Dziś się sam śmieje do siebie jak to widzę. Tylko las dalej robi wrażenie. Miałem wtedy kilka lat. Cztery? Pięć? Nie pamiętam nawet za dobrze kiedy dziadkowie się przeprowadzili. Wydaje mi się, że już w zerówce mieszkali w mieście. Pamiętam, że całą drogą rodzice napominali o niedotykanie pastuchów wokół pól. Opowiadali historie o rodzicach którzy chcieli ratować dzieci rażone prądem sami ginęli. Taka nauka o przewodnictwie prądu. To nie były strachy na lachy. Wielu gospodarzy w tamtym czasie, w tym i mój dziadek zdaje się, puszczało w obwód prąd z gniazdka. 220V i na razie.

W każdym razie witała nas zawsze metalowa brama ze skośnymi belkami na krzyż. To w mojej głowie utknęło jako wizualizacja niedzieli. Miałem takie skojarzenia. Poniedziałek przywoływał w głowie wskazówkę częstotliwości w radiu. Popularnym Kasprzaku. Nie o tym jednak... Buszowanie po gospodarstwie to była przygoda nieporównywalna z niczym. Krowy, kury, świnie. Koń! Koń nazywał się Bułan. Miałem okazję jeździć wierzchem - choć w asyście, asekurujących dorosłych. Jeśli zaprzęgnięto Bułana do wozu mogłem powozić samodzielnie. Czy to nie jest czad? Dla mnie był. Tak samo jak kiedyś w sianie w stodole odnalazłem stary motocykl! Z resztą takich sprzętów rozrzuconych po całym gospodarstwie było sporo. Jakieś stare grabarki i kosiarki. To była świetna zabawa! Wdrapać się na siodło takiego sprzętu i udawać, że się jedzie. Albo szarpać się z wajchą próbując podnosić pręty grabiące.

Widać, że się rozpisałem trochę, nie? Mógłbym bez końca. O wycieczkach na grzyby. O tym jak walczyłem z kogutem za pomocą kija. O skarbach na strychu! O córce sąsiadów z którymi dziadkowie się nie znosili. O wdrapywaniu się na dach szopy. Im więcej piszę tym więcej sobie przypominam. Tak. To było bardzo szczęśliwe wczesne dzieciństwo. Tak z perspektywy czasu. Jeśli miałem jakieś złe wspomnienia to je chyba wyparłem. Myślę, że gdyby nie to, to moje dzieciństwo byłoby znacznie uboższe.

[youplush]

I also like to make plushies myself (but I'm really really bad at remembering to take photos once I'm finished). Usually I'm too excited to gift them to someone that I completely forget.

The first one, I sadly only have this progress pictures but she's my magnum opus. I call her Luna and she was a gift for my sister. She can stand in her own, thanks to a lot of wiring in the S shape of her body, the tail is also fully positionable - although it's easier for her to stay upright if the tail is curled around her. After this picture was taken, I finished off the loose threads, added both whiskers and "beard" like parts around her snout, wings that were made of both crocheted material and white cloth, and embroidered her face like so ^vv^

The second one was a gift for my youngest nephew, the only thing missing is their blue and white jacket. The top and the bottom are slightly different colors - I wanted it to look like they were wearing pants and some sort of shirt but in hindsight I think the colors were too similar. Baby nephew seemed to like them though

But not as much as my other nephew liked his tractor plush and I am absolutely devastated that I can't show you the finished version, but it's essentially a green tractor the size of an adult hand with black and red tires (the inside of the tires is red). It has grey windows, and yellow and white parts in the front and back where the lights would be.

:)

Whoa these are so cool!!! Very impressive work!!!

I love both of them, and I’m glad the people you gifted them too loved their plushies as well!!!!

I’m imagining the second one in their jacket and it is so cute. Like an animal crossing villager! And the first one is amazing… the detail is incredible!!

The tractor sounds so cool!! I like plushies of unique things like that :) I’m imagining a little kid playing with his plush tractor and it’s so sweet… peace and love on planet earth!!!

Thank you for telling me about the plushies you make!!!! I think it’s super cool how you can bring these ideas to life :)

[genericpuff]

Do you have any tips for beginner artists? Also I love your art style

Reference lots! There's no 'learning how to draw', only learning how to study and reference things you want to draw. Even experienced artists are constantly pulling up references and tools to assist them in their process, it's not all drawing from imagination, there's research involved!

And keep in mind that no matter the style of the work you're studying and learning from, the core foundations of drawing - composition, structure, perspective, anatomy, lighting, and color - will usually always be present in some way. Learn to identify those foundations, even if you're not actively trying to learn them directly, because that identification process is part of referencing.

Keep your old art! Always! You don't have to save every absent-minded doodle or scribble, but any time you create a piece of art that feels significant to you, hold onto it! If you have sketchbooks full of old drawings that are taking up space in your home and you can't justify keeping, scan what's inside / take photos and store them digitally! Don't let hindsight after you've improved tarnish the joy you had making it! It just gives you something wonderful to look back on so you can see how much you've grown (even when you feel like you haven't; if you cringe looking at your older stuff, that means growth HAS happened! And that's good!)

As for specific learning tools, there's no single "one size fits all" approach to improving your craft. It's more like a patchwork quilt that you have to weave yourself from all the things you reference and get inspired by over years of trial and error. For myself, that quilt looks something like this:

That said, this is my quilt, for you, it'll look very different! Maybe online tutorials are a much bigger patch, or maybe some of the patches seen here are completely absent from others (and alternatively, maybe there are patches that I DON'T have that another person might!) The point of it though is to get across that getting better at art and "learning how to draw" isn't achievable through one single means.

I've said this in previous posts, but this is why I try to stay away from the blanket advice "just practice", because it doesn't truly convey how to practice properly - if you're exclusively practicing the same stuff every day, then there's a lot of other elements you don't even realize you could be missing out on that could benefit you. It would be like trying to become a world-class chef just by cooking omelettes all day - you'd be really good at cooking omelettes, but if you want to learn how to cook a perfectly-seasoned medium rare filet mignon, knowing how to cook omelettes isn't going to contribute to that at all.

I know all of that is both specific and vague, but I hope it can help you find your direction in your learning! Ask yourself what art you like, what you really want to learn, and how the art you like can help you learn it. Don't just look at an art piece and go "cool", really look at it and learn to identify the foundations within it, find the "why" in your praise. It can and will benefit you in your own art journey along the way because the better you get at analyzing the world around you, the better you get at analyzing your own work and where it can improve, and most importantly, how you can improve it ヽ(・∀・)ﾉ

[roseofithaca]

Last Days

(Some entries from my oc Silver's "Book of Shadows" / diary, leading up to her death. The photo is of my actual doggo who passed away eight years ago. 🥺🥹).

'

24th June 2003

Confidence Spell

In a cleansed space, dress a small orange candle with oil and coat with mixed herbs, most notably rosemary, chamomile and lavender. State your intention before lighting the match. Sit and watch in a comfortable position while visualising the light glowing within yourself.

I did it.

I told them.

The spell worked, it gave me the courage to stand in front of them and finally come out. In hindsight I should have remembered to cast a ward of protection around myself for the aftermath. But Derek at the shop told me that focusing too much on protection magic can actually attract harmful energies. And, to be honest, a part of me wanted the drama. I wanted my family to give a shit, even if it was thrown in my face. Wow, gross imagery there, Silver.

I suppose it went better then some. Reading posts on some gay and lesbian forums, some folks have it a lot worse, especially over in America. This one girl's dad was a pastor (I think that's like a Vicar? We only ever called them that around my town). When she came out to him, he had her sent to some preachy conversion therapy camp and she ended up having to run away to live with her cousin, now her immediate family act like she's dead. Yikes. I didn't get it that bad.

My sister rolled her eyes and scoffed. "Sure you are. You're totally not just doing this for attention, like the witchy thing." And my brother was cringing like I'd tried to flash him or something. "How do you even know? You've not even had that many boyfriends!" Ugh! What the fuck?! What kind of older brother wants his sister to sleep around more than dudes until she "can be certain"? I've had enough experience as I need, bruv! Think he just feels weird now as I've probably ruined all that lesbian p*rn I know he's into after that time I used the computer after him and he forgot to delete his history.

And Mum? Well.

She cried. She didn't wail or scream or anything but if was kinda like the cry of a little kid who got told they weren't allowed to get some Pik n Mix at Woolies. I asked if she was angry and she just threw her hands up and said she was disappointed I wouldn't "at the least" give her grandkids. Then she stormed outside to smoke with my sister.

I felt so cold and numb afterwards. What did that even mean? How would being gay mean I can't be a mum? We've all watched Friends, we saw Ross' ex Carol be a mum, Susan was his adoptive mum, that could happen to me. Or I could adopt. Fuck, I want to be a mum, someday...way, way, way off. And anyway, she has a grandkid! I'm surprised my brother didn’t pipe up to remind her of that. It was just me and him left in the room and it was awkward as fuck. Bri and I have butted heads but I'm closer with him than Lisa, which is not saying much. Think my confession ruined whatever little sibling bond was there.

Shit, I wish Dad had been there. He'd have been cool with it. He'd have been so proud of me for being brave enough to tell them all and he'd have given me one of his epic bear hugs.

Except that's a lie.

According to Brian, anyway. When I mentioned Dad to him, he scoffed and said "You're joking, right? Dad was homophobic as shit. This the guy who refuses to watch Star Trek TNG because a 'poofta' was the Captain."

That hurt worse than any reaction the others had to my coming out. At first I hoped he was just saying it to get a rise out of me or just to be a dick. But the more I looked back through my hazy memories, I can recall those tiny little bigoted comments which as a kid you just don't care about. Because they didn't matter to me back then. All I cared about was that Dad was fun, that he spoiled me rotten, that he'd take me to McDonalds whenever I asked and to the cinema and Stone Henge.

I needed some air after that. Jess always provided an easy excuse to go for a walk around the fields to clear my head. While she bounded off after squirrels once I let her off lead, I sat under a tree and cried my fucking eyes out. Not for the reactions of those I got, but for the one I would never get.

Those breathing exercises Derek showed me helped a lot. The throbbing in my head died down a little. Chanting the names of the Goddess while I tried to focus on letting go of that useless worry over a dead parent's opinion of me.

It sounds awful but, given how many father-daughter relationships I've seen break down when girls reach their teens, maybe I was lucky to lose my dad as young as I was before he could truly disappoint me.

But either way, I did it. I'm now and out and proud gay (or bi, I'm not 100%, just definitely not straight) witch. Love me or leave me.

So mote it fucking be.

31st October 2003

And the fires shall burn, and the wheel of life shall turn, and the dead come back home on Samhain!

Happy Halloween!

As it's the Wiccan New Year, I guess I should make a resolution? I resolve to start living my damn life.

Ever since I dropped out of college, it's like I've been drifting through life. The few jobs I've had haven't gone anywhere and I just don't know what to do with myself. Actually, no, I fantasise about the life I want all the time.

A cottage in the woods. I wanna wake up and breathe in nature every morning. I want my own garden where I can grow fruit and veg and herbs for my spells. I want to be able to sit and read my fantasy books in the sunshine for hours in peace. Obviously Jess will come with me, I'm pretty much the only one who walks and takes care of her, she's my bestest girl. And I'll adopt three or five more dogs. Maybe a couple of chill cats. It would be so cool if I could tame a fox like that woman who was on This Morning the other days. Foxes are basically cats inside little dog shells, they're so cool. And I want a wife...I think. Part of me would be happy living alone with nature and pets but then I get this niggle of desire for someone to wake up with and appreciate all that beautiful stuff with me every day.

But that life is just not gonna happen unless I find a way to make a shit ton of money to move out of my town and set up somewhere in the West Country or Surrey or Kent etc. For now I'm trapped in this tiny shitty town in the arse-end of Essex with almost no bus routes. Driving lessons have all ended in disaster, fucking dyspraxia I'm blaming you.

Gods, please, if you're going to trap me anywhere for the rest of my existence can it at least be somewhere better than this?!

What few friends I had have all gone off to Uni or abroad. One girl even asked if I wanted to go to Australia with her but the idea of working in a bar gives me chest pains. Plus the spiders! Sorry, little dudes, I love and respect you but I can't help but get the creeps! I keep up with what they're doing on MySpace and MSN but a lot of it depresses me to realise how stagnant my life is. Not only am I trapped but I'm also lonely as shit.

LOL. Jess just rested her head on my knee as I wrote that and gave me the biggest saddest labradoodle eyes. Of course I'm not totally alone, I've got my bestest girl. And my deities. Enough to keep me sane.

Speaking of mental health, gotta remember to make an appointment with my GP about these headaches. Mum blames the incense and reckons I'm dehydrated. Says the woman who smokes like a chimney and needs a glass of wine a day to get through the week.

Doing my Samhain rite later but first gonna take Scarlet out trick or treating. Her little witchy costume is so cute! I know the whole hat and warty nose stereotype is offensive to Wiccan culture but OMG she is adorbubble with her little plastic cauldron! Can't believe she's nearly three, she's growing up so fast. Even if I never get to be the cottage core mum I dream of, I can be the awesome witchy aunt.

11th March 2004

A spell to attract friendship

Cleanse an empty bottle with incense. Fill with pink or white salt to protect from toxic relationships, cloves for friendship, cinnamon for happiness, lavender for calm, rose quartz and amethyst for healthy friendship, sugar for sweetness, a dandelion for loyalty, seal with yellow wax, carry in purse or pocket often - remember you need to leave your room to find those friends you seek.

I might have just discovered something really cool!

We're staying at my great uncle's house in Surrey for a couple of weeks to help him out while he's not well. Uncle Bob's always been a cool old dude, I wish he'd lived closer when I was growing up. Anyway he knows how into the supernatural I am and started telling me legends of this really old house literally just a twenty minute walk from where we're staying.

And when I say old I mean OLD. Like Henry VIII old, if not before that! He even has this book telling the history of it. Apparently the rich lady who lives there used to host tours but she's getting too old to do it now and has mostly become a recluse. There's all sorts of shit that went down in that house, some Tory prick who died in a sex scandal, ROFL, it was used for all sorts of soldier stuff during WWII, a bunch of rich folk whose names I still see dotted around the village lived there. Even before there was a house there were settlements were there were plague outbreaks and witch trials. Actual fucking WITCH TRIALS! I always wanted to visit Salem but screw it I got some history on my doorstep now.

And theres all sorts of ghost stories! Some dude who tried to kill Queen Elizabeth I got his head chopped odd and rumour is his headless body can be seen wandering the grounds. There's this famous 'Grey Lady' ghost who falls out the window screaming in the middle of the night. Some freaky creature like a wannabe Bigfoot roaming the woods.

I gotta go there. Sounds like it's buzzing with untapped magical energy. Just looking at the photo of the building, I feel like it's calling to me.

Honestly one of the coolest bits of history was there was said to be a stone circle which the house now stands on. Don't think I can get myself in there, even if I ask the old posh woman really really nicely. But there should be enough power around the site for me to call to.

Screw it. I'm sick of trying to find my own coven to do shit like this. I did a quick scope of the place while walking Jess and it doesn't look like she has much in the way of security. There's not even that high a fence around the wood. I can jump over that easy enough.

Gotta take the opportunity while I'm here. Uncle Bob might be being moved into residential care so chances of us coming back to this part of the county is slim.

Still got those mushrooms Derek's nephew gave me. Been really hesitant about taking them, I don't like doing drugs more than a little bit of weed and even that ends up making me paranoid and thinking the world hates me.

But he swore that if I wanted to properly see the gods, they were the best tool.

So tonight, I'm gonna sneak out and make my way up there, set up an altar and ground myself. It's gonna be like taking a bubble bath in pure magick! I got all that history and ancient energy as well as the full moon. Helped bake some cakes for Uncle Bob earlier and gonna take a few crumbs of the leftovers as offerings. Pan especially has such a sweet tooth.

This is the night I'm gonna take my life into my hands and summon everything I want. Love, friendship, freedom, excitement....oh and mustn't forget healing for these stupid migraines.

Jess keeps staring at me from the foot of my bed, whimpering for attention. Maybe she wants to play fetch. Maybe she wants to come with me. Should I take her? Hekate likes dogs so she might appreciate her there. And I am going into the dark woods all on my own. A lot of scary stuff has happened to young girls and women on the news lately. But they were children, I'm twenty next year! If I take Jess with me and she starts barking, it might wake the Button lady or her neighbours.

No, babygirl, best you stay here. It's gonna be boring for you watching me do my ritual high as a kite while I tie you to a tree. Once I'm back I'll sneak you up some chicken from the fridge.

It can be our little secret. ;) and I'll do a spell to make sure my best girl has plenty more years of treats and belly rubs to come.

So mote it fucking be.

[xtruss]

Pro-Palestine demonstrators gather during a vigil for U.S. Airman Aaron Bushnell outside the Israeli Embassy in Washington, on Feb. 26, 2024. Photo: Tom Brenner for The Washington Post via Getty Images

Aaron Bushnell, Who Self-Immolated For Palestine 🇵🇸, Had Grown Deeply Disillusioned With The Military! “I have Been Complicit in The Violent Domination of The World And I Will Never Get The Blood 🩸 🩸🩸 Off My Hands.”

— By Nikita Mazurov | February 28 2024

Aaron Bushnell, the active-duty U.S. Air Force Airman who set himself on fire Sunday to protest Israel’s war on Gaza, appears to have grown disillusioned with the U.S. military and his own role as a service member, according to posts on the online forum Reddit under a handle matching one used by Bushnell.

Bushnell, 25, made international news when he professed that he would “no longer be complicit in genocide” and recorded himself shouting “Free Palestine!” as he burned to death in front of the Israeli Embassy in Washington on Sunday. “I am about to engage in an extreme act of protest,” Bushnell had announced on a livestream before his self-immolation, “but compared to what people have been experiencing in Palestine at the hands of their colonizers is not extreme at all.”

The Reddit posts, by a user named acebush1 and mostly from the past four years, chronicle a young person’s experience struggling with money as the pandemic took hold. The Reddit poster turned to the military and was initially enamored with the Air Force, but quickly came to denounce it.

In the months leading up to Bushnell’s act of self-immolation, several of acebush1’s posts showed how sharply their view of the military had shifted. On the r/Airforce subreddit, a user asked veterans whether, in hindsight, they would still choose to join the military. Acebush1 answered, “Absolutely not.”

“I have been complicit in the violent domination of the world,” they said, “and I will never get the blood off my hands.”

The Intercept analysis linked the acebush1 Reddit account to Bushnell by analyzing his social media activity. In a post on Facebook the same day as his self-immolation, Bushnell had posted a link to the video streaming platform Twitch with the username LillyAnarKitty. Using a Twitch username history tool that identifies a user’s prior account names, The Intercept found that the same Twitch User ID number used by LillyAnarKitty previously employed the handle acebush1.

A Reddit user with the same username — acebush1 — posted over a thousand times since 2014. The Reddit posts mention details that align closely with Bushnell’s life, including being in the Air Force, having a friend who was a conscientious objector, and studying computer science.

As this story was being drafted, acebush1’s posts started to be removed from Reddit. The posts were archived and, though Reddit instantly deletes posts from their new interface, visiting the old-style Reddit user profile page reveals their recently deleted posts.

“A Regret I Will Carry”

The acebush1 Reddit user joined the military soon after posting about their financial struggles at the beginning of the pandemic. On March 19, 2020, acebush1 inquired about becoming an Uber Eats driver. The following month they posted asking for financial help: “HELP – Can’t get stimulus or unemployment benefits, about to run out of money.”

In May, acebush1 posted a photo with the caption “My Dad getting suited up to give me a goodbye? hug before I leave for BMT” — basic military training. According to Bushnell’s LinkedIn page, he enrolled in “Basic & Technical Training” in the Air Force in May 2020.

Several months into enrollment, acebush1 appeared excited by the Air Force, reposting a video of a military aircraft in August 2020 and giving it a heading that said: “Man, the Air Force does some cool-ass shit.”

Acebush1 also regularly posted in various video game Reddit communities, including one dedicated to the video game “Valheim.” In Bushnell’s self-immolation livestream, the liquid container he is carrying has a sticker with the slogan ‘the bees are happy,’ a meme from “Valheim.”

In November 2021, acebush1 made multiple posts asking about advice in pursuing a computer science degree. Bushnell’s LinkedIn profile, which has been memorialized “as a tribute to Aaron Bushnell’s professional legacy,” lists him as having been in the process of pursuing a bachelor’s degree in computer software engineering.

Nearly a year later, acebush1’s posts shifted from largely video game-based content to posts with titles like “Solidarity with Prisoners!” with a link to a Guardian article about an Alabama prison strike, and to reposting a meme image of anarchist philosopher Max Stirner. In 2023, acebush1 made a post with the title “Free Palestine!” and linked to a video of an activist takeover of UAV Tactical Systems, a drone company operated in part by the Israeli defense contractor Elbit Systems.

“I Didn’t Realize What A Huge Mistake It Was Until I Was More Than Halfway Through.”

Shortly after the pro-Palestine post, in June 2023, acebush1 wrote, “I’m sticking it out to the end of my contract as I didn’t realize what a huge mistake it was until I was more than halfway through, and I only have a year left at this point. However it is a regret I will carry the rest of my life.”

The poster mentioned a friend who left the armed services on the basis of conscientious objection; Bushnell’s friend Levi Pierpont, according to the Washington Post, objected and left the military.

Acebush1’s posts became more stridently pro-Palestinian as Israel’s war in Gaza got underway. In one, they denounce Israel as a “settler colonialist apartheid state,” and exclaim that there are no Israeli “civilians” because the entire country is engaged in oppression. They refuse on several occasion to denounce armed Palestinian resistance, saying in the apartheid post that they “work for the air force and would also have no right to complain about violent resistance against my actions.”

In November 2023, acebush1 made another post describing “the moral necessity of getting out.”

In the last few months, acebush1 accelerated their posting across various anarchism-related Reddit communities, as well as on other various communities. “Piracy is always ethical,” acebush1 posted. “If you think that you’re making a difference with who you do and don’t choose to give your money to, you don’t understand how markets work.”

Acebush1’s last Reddit post was on February 24, expounding on how “whiteness erases culture” — a day before Bushnell’s self-immolating direct action. In an earlier post, acebush1 had written, “I’ve never been one for bullshit.”

[krikeymate]

Same anon from the 5y later AU post

Vince was such a creep, and I think Mindy realized it pretty quickly (she literally took photos of him), therefore, I share your opinion... she would be the first to act in this scenario

Whenever the topic of grooming in teenage-media comes up, I'm thinking of Aria and Ezra from Pretty Little Liars and how this teacher-student-relationship was so normalized

We were talking about it in school with wide-open eyes and silent laughter... how cool it would be to have a mature and independent partner etc

A person from my class was groomed, but no one really cared bc the issue of grooming was never addressed or introduced to us, so we didn't realize what was happening (they are still a couple btw)

Now, I'm an adult myself, and the thought of dating a teenager or even a 19 y/o is disgusting and sick af. Whoever tells a teen "You're so mature for your age, you're the only one who understands me" - no, no a kid isn't mature and doesn't understand an adult at all

Yeah, thx for your time and effort! Sorry for this post, but I wanted to get it off my chest

It's definitely one of those things that in hindsight is so weird and like woah wait a fucking minute. It's really hard to understand when you're younger just how messed up it actually is, especially when it's still treated as a bit of a joke.

That's actually something I couldn't get past which bounced me off PLL. I can't even read any sort of student/teacher fiction, even if it's like university student/teacher's assistant stuff. It just makes me so uncomfortable and I can't stand the thought of it.

There was definitely a time in my life where I thought yeah age is just a number why is that so bad so long as they're not doing stuff, but the older I got, the more the way I thought developed and by the time I was 23 I realised, actually, that's still super weird, why would an adult be attracted to a teenager? That's a kid, and the kid doesn't know any better, but the adult should. It's not something that was ever really talked about when I was younger, and I wish it was so I could have realised it sooner and avoided some really weird conversations I had as a teenager. I remember being so uncomfortable at the time but not really understanding why.