#it lasts three years then you have the master (master's degree) that lasts 2 years

[evergardenwall]

me re-reading my old journals from 2020-2021 and feeling like i haven't made any progress and am stuck in the same place vs. me reminding myself i passed last year and now am in L2 which i couldn't have imagined back in 2021... why is celebrating small achievements so hard

[motorsportbarbie13]

What's A Soulmate? Part 3

In which your best friend comes back to you. But is it too late?

Warnings: oof the angst. swearing. that's it. Pairing: Lando Norris X SainzSister!Reader Word Count: 2.5k words

(a/n: this is how i cope after that hot mess of a race today. i hate everything and everyone except for my pookie bear lando norris)

- What's A Soulmate? - Part 1 - What's A Soulmate? - Part 2 - What's A Soulmate? - Part 2.5 - Master List

2021 You keep your promises. 

2022  And then he started dating her. 

2023 Silence.

March, 2024Australia 

“We are so excited to have you join the team.” Your new boss beams back at you as you follow her through the corridor. “Thank you for making the flight at such short notice. Had we known Summer was going to quit so abruptly, we would have had you come out with the team earlier in the week.” 

You nod, adjusting the collar of your new papaya and black polo. “Of course, I’m just happy it all worked out.” 

The heat of the Australian sun beats down outside the McLaren hospitality building, but inside the air is cool and dry. You’d landed in the country last night after what felt like the longest flight you’ve ever taken from New York into Melbourne but were so happy to be back in the paddock after what felt like ages. 

“Like we discussed earlier in the month, you’ll be working with Oscar as his primary press officer. I’m sure you know what that entails and everything, not much has changed since Carlos was with the team, but if you have any questions you have my number.” Brenda smiles down at you as she hands you your new McLaren issued iPhone.  

Three weeks ago, you had graduated from NYU with a double degree in public relations and business management. One week later, you had accepted a job offer from McLaren to join the communications team working with Oscar. Between your dual degree and experience working in the paddock with your brother, the job had been a slam dunk for you.

“The boys are just finishing up some filming up stairs. Let’s go up and introduce you to Oscar. You already know Lando.” She says, with a bit of a smile. Your friendship with the Brit was well known back during the years you were still working with Carlos. No one knew how much it had changed since though. 

Nerves fluttered around in your stomach as you follow Brenda up to the second floor where you could hear Oscar and Lando loudly laughing at something. As far as you knew, Lando was unaware that you had taken a job with McLaren. You had asked Carlos and Charles to keep your new job quiet around the paddock, not wanting to create drama before it was necessary. This was certainly going to be a shock, you knew that. 

The last time you saw him flashes through your memory, quick and painful, as Brenda approaches where Oscar and Lando stand each holding dry erase boards. 

Early 2022

“What do you mean she doesn’t want me around?” You nearly laugh, the absurdity of what your best friend is telling you not fully computing. 

Lando grips the back of his neck, eyes looking everywhere but at you. “Our friendship makes her uncomfortable.” 

Now you really do laugh. “What friendship, Lan? I’ve barely seen you this year!” 

It was the truth. Ever since you had started classes in New York last year, your time to see your best friend had dwindled down into nearly nothing. You went to as many races as you could but going from spending nearly 24/7 with your brother and Lando to barely seeing them once every few months was more painful than you had anticipated. It hurt so much to watch him continue on, seemingly so unbothered by losing you, but this? This was the last straw. 

He had been dating the Portuguese model for a bit now and you had to admit, she was pretty and wonderfully nice. You truly had no issue with her, having met her once at a Grand Prix you had attended before classes had started this year. She was quiet, sweet, and obviously adored Lando so her being with him was fine with you. You wanted to see your best friend happy. But now? Now she was threatened by someone who wasn’t even a second thought in Lando’s head? 

You had spent the last few months desperately trying to believe that Lando wasn’t pulling away, that he wasn’t purposefully putting distance between you and him. Texts would go unanswered, calls went unreturned. You had chalked it up to him being busy and adjusting to having a new teammate but now you guess you had the truth: he was avoiding you. 

“If that’s what you want, I’ll respect your wishes.” You murmur, taking a step away, suddenly wanting nothing more than to retreat back into the Ferrari motorhome where you could nurse your embarrassment in peace. 

“It’s not…” Lando fumbles, but you know what he’s about to say isn’t true. This is exactly what he wants. 

“No, I get it Lan. She’s threatened by me. I respect that and I’ll make myself scarce this weekend. You and her won’t have to worry about me anymore.” 

The pain of your words slices through Lando. He hadn’t wanted to do this, far from it. But the fight that she had started last night when she had seen you in the pit lane laughing with Carlos and Charles had put him in a tight spot. You were his best friend, but she was his girlfriend. He owed her the respect, right? Even if he knew that nothing was going on, nothing could happen. It wasn’t in the cards for the two of you. 

“I’m sorry.” He says. 

“Me too, Lan.

You blink rapidly, erasing the painful memory from your brain as your boss steps towards Oscar and Lando, who are watching you approach. The look on Lando’s face sends your pulse skyrocketing. It’s a look that’s somewhere between surprise, confusion, and maybe even a bit of betrayal and you hate every bit of it. 

“Oscar, I wanted to introduce you to your new press officer. She just landed last night so I’m sure she’s a bit jet lagged but she insisted on getting to work straight away. She’ll be taking you around for media duties after FP2 today so be nice, okay?” 

“I’m always nice.” The Aussie says, soft smile on his lips. “It’s nice to meet you. Lando talks about you all the time.” 

Your eyes dart towards Lando, who is still somewhat glaring at you like he can’t believe you’re in front of him. He talks about you? Still? Your stomach does an involuntary somersault at this bit of information, blush creeping its way high up on your cheek bones. 

The phone in your hand chimes with a reminder. Oscar is due to an Australian media outlet in ten minutes for an interview. “Well, that’s my cue.” You turn to the girl that had been filming the segment with a friendly smile. “Is he good to go?” 

“He’s all yours!” 

With permission to leave, you turn on your heel and walk towards the staircase, Oscar in tow. Lando watches after you, still struggling to process what just happened. You worked for McLaren now? As Oscar’s press officer? He had just played padel with Carlos this fucking morning and he hadn’t said a single word about this. Surly Carlos had known about your taking the job so why hadn’t he told him? Did you not want him to know? Did you hate him so much that you didn’t even care if he knew or not? How had the most important person in his life become someone he just used to know once? 

That last fight before he…said some of the the most shameful thing he’s ever said flashes through his mind as he wanders down to his drivers room, suddenly needing a break. 

“You literally never shut up about her. ‘She does this.’ And ‘she does that’. Jesus Christ, Lando you could not be more obvious about it.” The anger in her voice had set his teeth on edge. “And now I have to sit and watch the, what did they call you guys? The Chaos Gremlins? Now I have to sit and watch The Chaos Gremlins be reunited for the entire fucking weekend and just sit back and take it?” 

“There is nothing going on between us.” Lando insists, running his hands through his curls. “I haven’t seen her in months. Months!” 

“But there would be if she was here, right?” 

He had no answer for her. Because she was probably right in her assumption. If you had stayed, Lando had no idea what would’ve happened. 

“It’s her or me, Lando.” 

The rest of the day passes in what feels like the blink of an eye. By the time Oscar is done with all of his interviews at the end of the evening, you feel dead on your feet. You’ve lost all sense of time, feeling like you’ve been hit with a truck and you want nothing more than to get back to your hotel room and sleep for the next 5 to 10 business days. Or the last free practice tomorrow afternoon. 

The Uber to the hotel takes far too long but just as your eyes are about to shutter closed in the back seat, you arrive and drag your near lifeless body up to your room. A quick shower is all you have the energy for, desperately needing to get the germs of the day off and then, you’re in bed, blissfully tucked between soft white cotton sheets watching some weird Australian soap opera. 

Your eyes are heavy when the alert dings and you nearly ignore it, assuming it’s Carlos checking in. He could wait until you saw him tomorrow. But a quick glance shows you it isn’t Carlos. 

You don’t fully understand why you gave him your room number. Not when the only thing on your mind is going to sleep. This is probably a really bad time to have such an important conversation too but a part of you, that part of you that never stopped hoping that maybe one day your best friend would come back to you, that part of you wanted to get this out of the way so you could move on, with or without him. 

Ten minutes later, there’s a soft knock on the door and you haul yourself out of bed, still bone numbingly tired but also strangely keyed up with nervous energy. This would be the first time you had really spoken to Lando since that night two years ago. Sure, you two had exchanged pleasantries when you found yourself in the paddock for a race weekend but most of the time you kept to yourself in the Ferrari garage and motorhome, making sure your presence wasn’t noticed by anyone outside of your brother and Charles. 

Tugging on your favorite NYU crewneck, you pad towards the door while willing your racing heart beat to slow. This is fine. This is going to be okay. You two needed to talk if you were going to be working closely this year so this had to happen sooner or later. 

The door swings open and Lando stands in front of you looking just as exhausted and devastated as you feel. 

“Hi.” He breathes, hands wringing together. 

“Hi Lan.” You sigh. 

His smile widens at the nickname and you open the door a bit wider to allow him in. You cross the room, settling on the king size bed before staring up at him. “You wanted to talk?” 

The pain in his eyes cuts such a deep slice through you, it’s a wonder you don’t start bleeding out on the bedspread. 

“Why didn’t you tell me you were coming back?” He crosses the room towards you, setting every nerve ending in your body firing. He’s too close and you can’t control yourself when he’s like this. 

You shrug, wondering how you’re still able to hold yourself together at this point. “I didn’t think you’d care.” 

Lando drops his gaze away from you then, shame and anger surging across his handsome features. “Of course I’d care.” 

“You didn’t when you chose her over me.” 

He drags a hand over his face, the look of misery that sits on his face is reminiscent of the night you told him you were moving to New York City all those years ago. The memory brings a surge of white hot pain that cuts you so deeply it steals the breath from your lungs. If you had known that this was where you’d end up, you didn’t know if you would have made the same decision. 

“And listen, that was fine, I guess. You had to respect your relationship with her but the most confusing thing was afterwards. Why the radio silence after?” You fold your hands into your lap, unable to meet the gaze that you feel so heavy on your skin. He’s practically begging you to look at him but you simply can’t. 

“I was ashamed.” He admits and you feel the tears prick at the back of your eyes, a hot and painful sting that reminds you of how much you’ve lost. “I was ashamed at how I treated you and couldn’t face it.” 

“Rightfully so.” You mutter, rolling your eyes.

“I’m sorry.” He murmurs while reaching for your hand. “I’m so sorry for how I treated you. I should have told her to fuck off for making me choose between her and you. I should have chosen my best friend and I’ve regretted that decision every day of my life since.” 

The fact that you’re finally hearing the words you’ve been dreaming of hearing for nearly two years hits you like a ton of bricks. Here he was, your best friend, finally apologizing and owning up to his mistakes and for some reason, it felt like it was all just too little too late. How many nights had you stayed up, sobbing on your living room couch with your roommates over the stupid boy who was mean to you? Wondering what you had done to make him treat you like this? Hadn’t your friendship meant more than what it had ended up being? 

And now, here you were, back in his orbit again and it just…didn’t matter. You had spent so many nights wishing this would come and now that he was finally taking responsibility and owning up to his actions, it just didn’t feel like it was enough. 

“I think you should go.” 

“What?” He stutters, fingers gripping yours almost desperately. 

“I am exhausted and need some time to process this Lando. And you have quali tomorrow, you need to be focusing on racing, not on our issues.” 

“I don’t give a fuck about racing.” He bites out, blue eyes turning stormy gray with anger. “I want to fix this.” 

“This isn’t something that can be fixed with a single conversation.” 

You didn’t even know if it could be fixed at all, if you were being honest with yourself. 

“Then I’ll keep going until it is fixed, I promise.” 

“Don’t make promises you don’t intend to keep, Lando.” You warn, rising from the bed. “I need to get some sleep, okay? I’ll see you tomorrow.” 

Lando feels like his heart is being ripped from his chest. He had never intended for your friendship to end up like this. It just…slipped away from him and he was so swept away by his lifestyle the last year that he convinced himself you were both better off where you were instead of together like the universe intended. He had been so scared to admit how wrong he had been, choosing her over you that night that he had allowed it to spiral so out of control it might never come back to him. You might never come back to him. 

Tag List: @anilovessadbooks, @shelbyteller, @formulaal, @martygraciesversion381, @longhairkoo, @samantha-chicago, @stelena-klayley @dark-night-sky-99 @luckylampzonkland, @chlmtfilms , @inarabee @aykxz98 @forensicheart @cheer-bear-go-vroom @charlesgirl16 @lieutenantchaos @willowsnook @sltwins @linnygirl09 @powerfulmess @technicallypleasanttree @meglouise00

[userautumn]

you know how sometimes i'll be like, "man that person is not a good actor" and then you guys get mad and start yelling in my inbox, and then i snark back because i didn't call them terrible, i just said they aren't Good? well, now we can skip all that! introducing the actor chart, where i judge hollywood's ability to act as objectively as possible and you can't get mad at me about it unless they are the Actual worst.

the rankings are:

masters of the arts | fantastic | really great | good | average | subpar | bad | terrible | fundamentally untalented

some additional notes:

do NOT yell at me until you've read this entire post

i don't make judgements about an actor until i've watched at least three (3) of their projects. in the rare instances where that isn't the case, it's because i've followed a single performance for years (i.e. a multi-season television show) or their performances left a lasting impression, either positive or negative

i'm not interested in an actor's politics, controversies, allegations or anything else. i'm just concerned with whether or not they can act

this is the scale I PERSONALLY use. as in, when i watch movies or tv shows, i am judging actors according to my own set of criteria (more below). this is NOT universal, this is just how i do things

every actor in hollywood falls into one of these categories. don't shoot the messenger, i just grade 'em

i made this on microsoft paint. heehee

ok, now you can continue

so, you've gotten this far (yay!). now, the question is, how do i judge whether an actor is good or not? the answer is, i have a little questionnaire :3

ahem.

question #1: does this actor use their full body (including face + eyes + micro-expressions to embody the character they're meant to play? question #2: does the way they act in [role a] completely make me forget the way they act in [role b] or [role c]? (to put it simply: if i'm watching dylan o'brien in american assassin, am i spending the whole time thinking "omg hiii dylan from my werewolf show <333" or am i like "holy shit, mitch rapp is kind of unhinged") question #3: does the way they deliver their lines completely convince me that they believe what they're saying or are they just saying words?

it's a short questionnaire, but it's very effective in separating the talented from the less talented. the masters of the arts meet the golden standard set by the questionnaire with ease. everyone else struggles, to varying degrees.

so. now that that's out of the way, here's the actor chart:

masters of the arts: actors such as cillian murphy, denzel washington, viola davis. these are actors whose performances are 10/10 across the board. every show or movie they're in is elevated by their presence, depth, passion, and talent. they've never had (or have rarely ever had) a bad performance and their mere presence is enough to get me to watch anything because i know they will immerse me in the viewing experience.

fantastic: actors such as robert pattinson and idris elba are on the trajectory to becoming masters of the arts. they're not there yet, but on average, their performances are enrapturing and dynamic, notwithstanding hiccups or moments that keep them from being perfect.

really great: actors such as zendaya, kenneth choi, and dylan o'brien. these are actors who, on average, deliver incredible performances. the only thing that keeps them from being masters is that, sometimes, the directors either rely too much or too little on their presence (as in, their physical presence) resulting in instances where they don't have enough opportunity to shine and thus are just kind of there OR the movie / show feels like [title] starring [actor] rather than the actor becoming the character they're meant to play. these actors have range and are very good at what they do.

good: actors such as jake gyllenhaal and keke palmer are strong. they have a good grasp on how to command attention in a scene, they know how to play to the camera, how to embody their characters, and how to take the best parts of a script and make them their own. they're good. not perfect, not masters, but good and enjoyable to watch. THIS CATEGORY IS NOT AN INSULT.

average: actors such as chris hemsworth, nicholas galitzine, and daisy edgar jones are all okay. they're fine. nothing about their performances as full pieces of art stand out even if they have moments where they do. most hollywood actors fall into this category. actors in this category are entertaining, they just aren't always memorable. things that can land actors in this category: too much comfort within a long-term role that translates into lack of effort (oliver stark), playing the same role but finding ways to diversify within that role (chris hemsworth), or consistently working in projects that do not present a challenge (robert downey jr). THIS CATEGORY IS NOT AN INSULT.

subpar: actors such as chris evans and dwayne "the rock" johnson skirt the line between being bad and being average. their acting is unpredictable and you can never tell whether they're going to deliver a powerful performance or whether they're going to leave you wanting for more. this category isn't an insult. it's not positive, but it's not an insult.

bad: actors such as lindsay lohan, taylor zakhar perez, and keira knightley are the disappointments. they're the little engines that could, but didn't. actors in this category struggle to rise to the occasion. rarely do they transform the script and make it their own; they struggle to embody their characters in a way that feels natural, and often feel like they (the actor themselves) are just going where the director tells them to go, and saying the lines the director tells them to say. this doesn't mean that they are incapable of good performance, it just means that, more often than not, their films / shows leave you wanting for more.

terrible: the only thing separating actors such as ezra miller and stephen amell from being irredeemably bad is minimal effort. visible effort is put into their characters even if the delivery often falls flat. make no mistake, these actors are bad. really bad. but there's enough substance to their effort that makes one think that, maybe, maybe, with the right leadership + opportunities + (additional) education, they could become talented one day. maybe. holding one's breath is unadvised, though

fundamentally untalented: yeah. these "actors," if we can call them that, have got to pack it up. they've gotta go home. actors in this category such as jared padalecki, joey king, and madison bailey do not perform well, and if they have a good performance, it is a matter of happenstance. most of their performances feel like they just rolled out of bed, walked onto set, and started reading lines. badly. actors in this category are either a product of nepotism (phoebe dynevor), pretty privilege (madison bailey), or just good ol' fashioned directionlessness and inability + refusal to grow (jared padalecki). these actors are an embarrassment to the craft and should step out of the way so that new talent can take their place.

[janeyseymour]

Potential part 2 to Bridge Over Troubled Water. Maybe something about them finally confessing their feelings, or the reader finishing their degree and Mel is worried about seeing them less thinking they're going back to working in the suburbs but maybe they get transferred to Abbott. That's if you're feeling up to it of course

So... this took way longer than anticipated, but it's here, and she's done (and as always unedited). I hope you enjoy!

Bridge Over Troubled Water Pt 2

Part 1.

WC: 5.5k (exactly!)

Since the two of you finally confessed your feelings for each other, you’ve found the balance between work and home life as well as the dynamic between the two of you as teacher and aide. Really, not much has changed- you can’t blame Ava for having figured the two of you out before even you two knew what there was with the two of you. 

That was two semesters ago, and you’re quickly approaching the end of your masters degree. You’ve been seeing Melissa for a little over a year, and it’s been great. She’s your best friend, the best mentor, and the biggest supporter for you when you need to be told it’s going to be okay in terms of your graduate degree. But now that’s almost finished. You have three more final papers to write, one group presentation, and a speech to finish, and then you’ll have your masters in reading.

“You’re doing great, hon,” your girlfriend tells you as you type away furiously at your laptop at her kitchen island.

You jump nearly a foot in the air. You had been so focused on your paper that you didn’t even realize she had moved from her station at the stove to right behind you. 

“Jesus, Mel,” you chuckle once your shock wears off. “Give a girl some warning first.”

She wraps her arms around your shoulders and kisses the top of your head. “I thought you saw me move from the stove. Sorry, babe.”

You turn red. “My bad.”

“It’s alright, amore. You were focused on your paper, and I’m so proud of you.”

“I can’t wait to be done with it all,” you sigh. 

“You’re almost there,” she tells you. “And then you can just relax through the end of the school year with me and figure everything else out during the summer.”

You worry your lip through your teeth. “I think I’ve figured out what I’m doing already though.”

“Oh?” She raises an eyebrow. “And what would that be?”

You close your laptop and turn around in her arms. “I think I’m going to go back to the school I was at before- at least for a little bit. I know I have job security there, and the principal already asked me about returning to finish out the school year for one of the old second grade teachers who has to go out on maternity leave- at least to finish up the school year.”

“What?” she sounds shocked. “And you’re going to-“

“I think I have to if I want any sort of job security for next year,” you tell her. “But I’ll still do everything I can to-“

“You’re just going to leave the kids like that? Leave me like that?”

“Baby, it isn’t like that,” you whisper and pull her in closer. “You know how the teaching career paths are. And I know that my old school finishes before Abbott, so I can come in for the last week with you, and-“

Melissa takes a shaky breath. “You have to do what’s best for you, as much as it kills me… have you told anyone else?”

“Just Ava,” you mumble. “I was going to tell you tomorrow when we went out for dinner.”

“Okay.” She bites her lip. She knows you have to do what’s best for you, and she knows you’re right. You need job security. And she’ll be fine with the two classes together again; the two of you have pretty much figured out how to teach both classes seamlessly. But now she’s worried about how this is going to affect the relationship between the two of you- she won’t see you nearly as much.

“Please tell me you’re not mad,” you practically beg her.

“I’m not,” she tells you truthfully. “Just thinking about how the kids are going to miss you… how I’ll miss you.”

“You’ll see me,” you promise her. “We’re dating.”

“I know,” she sighs. “But it’ll be different. I’ll have my classes, you’ll have your class, and when we’re together, we’ll both be swamped with grading and planning.”

“I’m sure we can figure it out, hon. We’ll set aside time to grade together, we’ll see if at least our second grades line up to plan together for, and I’ll make sure that we have our time together to focus on things other than schoolwork.”

“You better,” she chuckles nervously, reaching down to palm your ass. 

“I love you,” you whisper as you set your forehead against hers.

“I love you too,” she tells you, but she’s still nervous.

When you get your degree, Melissa is the first one to wrap you up in a hug, peck your lips, and tell you how proud of you she is. Your parents are second, and they grin when they see how happy you are with your girlfriend. They had been wary in the beginning of your relationship, but now they fully embrace the fiery redhead in your life as family.

The four of you have a wonderful meal provided by Melissa at her house, and your parents sing her praises.

“My god,” your dad chuckles. “What you do with food woman… you should’ve been a chef instead.”

“I thought about it,” your girlfriend laughs. “But I’d say being a teacher worked out just fine.” She gives you a nudge and squeezes your thigh just slightly.

Dinner is wonderful, your parents head out with warm hugs and kisses to both yours and Melissa’s cheeks, and then it’s just the two of you.

“I’m so proud of you,” she tells you as you curl up on the couch together. “So proud.”

“I know you are,” you chuckles softly. “You’ve only told me a million times today.”

“Because I am,” she grins brightly and kisses you again. “My girl’s got her masters, and she’s going to do great… wherever she might end up.”

That night ends with the two of you in bed, sweaty and grinning as she pulls you into her arms. You both get good rest that night.

On your official last day at Abbott as Melissa’s aide, the kids shower you in presents, cards, poems, drawings… anything and everything you could think of- one of the kids brought it in for you- even a jar of pickles. You chuckle at that one.

“I’m assuming this is your doing?”

“I had it put on the list,” she laughs. “And I had to specifically ask for the dill, because I know you refuse to eat gherkins.”

“You’re the best,” you hip check her. 

“I do my best, babe,” she whispers back. “I am going to miss working with you.”

She hands you a note to go along with all of the kids’ stuff.

“Can I read it now, or should I read it later?”

“Maybe later,” Melissa tells you. “For now, enjoy your party, and then we do have dinner with the crew after school today.”

“We do?”

“You think we’d send you off without a true Abbott celebration?” she laughs. “Of course we have a special outing for you- down at Oscar’s- your favorite skanky dive bar.”

“You’re getting the Barbara Howard to my favorite skanky dive bar?”

“I am,” the redhead chuckles. “She loves you a lot, and I promised her it wouldn’t be too much since it’s a Wednesday at four in the afternoon.”

After many tearful goodbyes (even though you promise the kids they’ll see you for the last week of school), you walk out of the school hand in hand with your girlfriend.

“Can I open it now?” You clutch the envelope Melissa had handed you earlier in the day.

“If you really want to,” she rolls her eyes playfully as she opens the door for you. “But you can’t get all weepy. We have our friends to meet, and they don’t need to know I’m soft for you.”

“Everyone knows you’re soft for me,” you tease her. “Janine fully walked in on you massaging my back the one day in the teachers’ lounge because I had terrible cramps.”

“And I told the kid that if she told anyone, she’d regret it,” Melissa tells you.

“And then she told everyone, and you still haven’t made her regret it because you love me too much to harass our friend.”

“Shut up. Are you going to read it or not?”

“Maybe later if it’s going to make me cry.”

“I really am dating a softy, aren’t I?”

“You really are,” you grin innocently. “And you love me for it.”

When the two of you walk inside, everyone else is already there with drinks in hand.

“Aye, there’s our girl!” Jacob grins and wraps you up in a hug. “You did it!”

“I did,” you chuckle as you awkwardly pat his back before pulling away and being passed around to your friends. 

You make eye contact with your usual bartender, who just smirks and starts pouring your drink for you. He slides it over to you with a wink and a nod of the head. “Congrats, kid. We’re gonna miss having you come around here.”

“I think everybody forgets that I’m not really going anywhere,” you laugh as you take a sip of your beer and find your way into Melissa’s side again. “This one’s keeping me around for a long time, so I’ll be around.”

“But it’ll be different,” Janine argues. “You won’t be at Abbott with us anymore, and you won’t get to see half the stuff we talk about!”

“I wish I didn’t have to see half the stuff we talk about,” you joke. “And I will be back for the last week of school. It’s really just these three weeks that I’m filling in at my old school.”

There’s a nagging thought in the back of your girlfriend’s mind that tells her that might be your actual last day at Abbott if you decide to go back to your school in the suburbs.

“I, for one,” Ava cuts in. “Am glad that I will no longer have competition over who is the hottest in the school.”

“Ava!” Melissa rolls her eyes. 

Everybody raises their glasses towards you and cheers to you and your accomplishment.

After quite of few hours of drinking, exchanging silly Abbott stories, recounting how you and your girlfriend tiptoed around each other’s feelings for quite a bit before finally just biting the bullet and dating and how Ava won a shitload of money off of Mr. Johnson over their bet, and some good bar food, your crew starts to head out.

“You did good, sweetheart,” Barb hugs you gently. “Gerald is here to pick me up now, but I assume I’ll see you on Saturday for shopping?”

“You will,” you mumble into her shoulder.

“I’m just going to miss you so much!” Janine wipes a tear as she lunges forward to hug you.

“I think she had a little too much to drink,” Gregory takes his girlfriend by the hand to pry her off of you. “Congrats, Y/N. Hopefully, you’ll rejoin us at Abbott soon.”

“I’m with them, but it was really great getting to work with you!” Jacob grins. “And getting to see our favorite toughie soften up for you has been-“ he cuts himself off at the glare from your girlfriend. “I’ll see you around, Y/N.” The three of them exit quickly, Jacob and Gregory half carrying Janine.

That leaves you with Melissa, Ava, and Mr. Johnson.

“I’m actually going to have to do my job in that room now that you’re leaving,” Mr. Johnson sighs. “It was nice having you around, kid.”

“Thanks, Mr. J,” you chuckle. He gives you a gentle pat on the back, downs his beer and heads out.

“I know you’re going back to your old school, but…” Ava tells you. “Know Abbott will always welcome you back with open arms- even if that means I’ll have competition for who is the hottest.”

Your girlfriend rolls her eyes as she pulls you closer by the hip. “It isn’t a contest, Ava. It’s Y/N, and then me… The Philly twelve and Philly eleven.”

“Yeah, whatever,” the principal laughs. “My mans is here, but I’ll catch you later.” She heads out.

“I’ll take the tab now,” you tell your bartender. 

“It’s all covered,” he waves you off. You glance to your girlfriend, who shrugs. “It’s on us… for our favorite teacher crew, celebrating one of our favorite teachers from the crew.”

You leave a generous tip before you and the redhead head out of the bar.

“Did you have a good day?” Melissa asks you gently as you get into the car.

“I did,” you smile softly. “It was a bit over the top, considering I’ll continue to see everyone, but… it was all very sweet.”

“You know we all love you,” your girlfriend tells you as she pulls her car out of the parking spot. 

“I know,” you say softly, resting your hand on her thigh. “And don’t think I’ve forgotten about your note. I’m waiting to read it when we’re inside.”

“I do need to get ready for work tomorrow… my first day without my gorgeous girl next to me. So I have to shower when we get home.”

“That’s fine. I’ll read it then.”

Your girlfriend tries to tempt you with a dual shower, but you politely decline.

“I actually need to shower, you actually need to shower, and we both know nothing gets done when we shower together,” you tell her pointedly.

“Actually,” she smirks. “We both get done.”

“Melissa!” you groan.

“I’m not wrong,” she grins as she strips her clothes, hoping to entice you. It doesn’t work, but she knows you’re watching as she heads into the bathroom.

With a shaky breath, you take the card out of the envelope that she had given you at school today. It’s a beautifully decorated card- one that she clearly put a lot of effort into making special just for you. You open it to see her beautiful penmanship.

Y/N, it reads. Congratulations, amore. I’m so unbelievably proud of you- you did it! I never had a doubt in my mind that you could do it, and I truly consider you to be one of the brightest lights there is in this odd profession we’ve found ourselves in. 

I want to take this time to tell you how eternally grateful I am to have found you. I know we got off to a rocky start- I was angry at Ava and my last aide, and I was about to admit defeat when I stormed into her office. When I looked at you though, all that stress melted away. I would realize later that any time I looked at you, I would feel more at peace. 

I expected you to waltz into my room and add to the mayhem, much like Ashley did, but you proved me wrong from the start. You immediately proved that you were a pro- that you were worth keeping around. From your organization to the way that teaching and classroom management just comes so naturally to you… you’re the real deal, babe. 

And somehow, in the middle of the absolute chaos that we call our classroom, I fell for you. I was able to see every side of you- the professional and the personal. I was able to see the way that you worked seamlessly between organizing papers and handling the students in a matter of minutes of you being there. I saw the woman who is tough on the kids when they need it, but also knows how to soften up for a student who needs some extra love. I saw the goofball who isn’t afraid to be the butt of a joke because you create the joke and embrace it. I’ve loved watching you maneuver all of the staff- who even I haven’t figured out quite yet. I watched you grow professionally, but I also watched you grow personally. I’ve loved being able to be here for you through it all- all of the highs of celebrating when you got a 100% on an essay you worked your ass off to write by a deadline, to loving you through when your professor gave you a wrongful failing grade and we worked our asses off to write a better paper. I’ve loved watching you come into your own and figure out who you are. But mostly, I’ve loved loving you. I’ve loved being able to hold you on a good or a bad day, being able to cherish our time together and make memories that I never thought I would have. I’ve loved being your person, and you being mine. Thank you for being my person, thank you for letting me be your person, and here’s to you, my love. Congratulations.

She signed her name at the bottom with a heart scrawled next to it, and you can’t help but wipe a few tears away. You look towards her bathroom and smile when you hear her voice singing softly. You strip down before heading into the bathroom.

“Hon?” she calls.

You step into the shower with her, and her eyes are immediately all over you. You crash your lips into hers.

“I read your note,” you mumble against her lips. “I love you, I love you, I love you.”

That night, the two of you hardly get any sleep.

You take the next few days off to ensure that you’re prepared for your new second graders, and then that weekend, you and Melissa find yourselves diving into your work to make sure that everything is just as it should be. You know you’re in good standing with your school, but you want to make sure that you still impress.

You end up staying at your apartment out in the suburbs (you aren’t even really sure why you have it anymore- you almost stay exclusively at your girlfriend’s in Philly) on Sunday night so that you’re closer to work.

“I’ll be fine, Mel,” you promise her over the phone as you’re driving.

“I just know that you’re nervous, and sometimes your anxiety gets the best of you,” she sighs into the phone. “Are you sure you don’t want me to stay over with you?”

“I mean… you know you’re more than welcome to, but that commute for you is going to be a bitch tomorrow,” you chuckle. 

“It’s a worthwhile sacrifice for you, my dear,” she tells you. “Let me pack a bag, and I’ll be there not long after you.”

After a night of Melissa assuring you that you were going to be just fine- it’s just first day jitters, you wake up to an empty bed. You can smell breakfast being cooked. You yawn, get yourself dressed for work, and stumble into the kitchen. Melissa is already ready for school, and she’s just plating breakfast when you walk in. She smiles gently at you, pouring a cup of coffee for you as you slowly make your way into her arms.

“Good morning, my love,” she whispers, kissing your head. “Are you ready?”

“I’m gonna have to be,” you mumble into her shoulder.

“Well, I have to head out if I’m going to make it in time for the news, but I’ll drive back here to hear all about your first day? We’ll cook up somethin’ nice?”

You nod. “I love you. Thank you for staying over with me to help calm my nerves.”

“Anything for you,” she kisses you softly before slinging her bags around her. “Keep me updated throughout the day.”

Your first day is great. The kids are so excited to see you, your old coworkers are thrilled to have you back, and you don’t necessarily miss the piss stench that would waft itself in from the streets at Abbott.

But you find yourself comparing this school to Abbott- the odd little school in center city that has your heart. You find yourself missing sitting in the teacher’s lounge with your girlfriend and your friends, joking over whatever happened that day. You find yourself missing the knowing glances from Melissa when one of your kids says something funny. You catch yourself looking for someone to share a look with, even if it’s just one of the camera men you’ve grown fond of. 

After your first day, you drive yourself back to your apartment, fully ready to pour over quite a few notes and start planning for the next few weeks. Melissa strolls in not too much later, a grocery bag in hand.

“There’s my girl,” she smiles and makes her way over to you. She kisses you deeply. “How was your first day, amore?”

You shrug. “It was nice being back.”

You don’t fail to see the way her shoulders shrink slightly. 

“But I missed you today.”

“Well, you have me now, before I have to head back to my house,” she tells you. “I’ll cook us up some dinner?”

“That sounds wonderful,” you smile as you wrap your arms around her.

“I can’t really cook if you don’t let me go,” she quips. Begrudgingly, you let her go. “So tell me about your day.”

You do. She cooks dinner. The two of you find your way into your bedroom. After quite a few rounds, she sighs and cleans you up.

“So…” she sighs softly. “When will I get to see you again?”

You bite your lip. “Maybe this weekend?”

“Baby, that’s… four days away.”

“I know, but I’m already drowning in planning, and the kids are working on some of their projects from their teacher that I’ll have to grade, and I-“

“It’s okay, love,” she promises you, knowing you’ll get worked up. “I’ll see you on Friday?”

“I’ll come down for the weekend,” you tell her. “I promise. I might have to do some work, but we can spend the weekend together.”

She nods, kisses your nose, then your cheek, then your lips before slipping out of bed. 

You don’t end up seeing Melissa on Friday, or Saturday, or Sunday. You actually don’t see her until the following weekend until she comes over to your place after you hadn’t texted her all day on Friday. She’s worried about you.

“Y/N?” Melissa calls as she uses her key to let herself in. You’re asleep on some papers that you’re attempting to grade. “Oh, hon,” she sighs.

She shakes your shoulder gently, and you immediately sit up straight in a panic. Who was in your-

“It’s just me, amore,” she whispers and kisses your head. “It’s just me. You’re alright.”

You bring your hand to your chest as you continue to try to steady your breathing. “You had me so scared.”

“I’m sorry to just drop in on you,” your girlfriend apologizes. “I got worried when I didn’t get a text this morning or at all today.”

“I’m sorry,” you immediately say. “I’ve been up to my eyeballs in grading… and I may have taken a cat nap.”

“I think the cat nap took you, love,” she chuckles. “Have you slept at all?”

“I slept for like forty-five minutes last night?” you blush. “I was up making sure that all of the things for the last week of school were ready.”

“Babe,” the redhead says sternly as she lifts you into her arms. “We’ve talked about how that’s not healthy.”

“I know, I know,” you sigh as you cuddle closer to her. “I just-“ you yawn. “I want to make sure everything is perfect for them next week.”

“You need sleep. And you always could’ve called me to ask for help.”

“You have both classes though,” you mumble, sleep already threatening to take you. That’s really the last thing you remember until you wake up again. Your girlfriend’s warm body is pressed up against yours, and you roll over to look at her.

“Sleep,” Melissa grumbles against your head. You feel her press a delicate kiss to your temple.

“I have to finish everything up,” you sigh as you try to pull away.

“I graded everything, and I made sure their bags were all made up, and I made sure the stuff for their party is in order… you really need to utilize your classroom parents more; how much did you spend out of your own pocket?”

“More than I’m willing to admit,” you mutter. You pull away from her slightly as you realize everything she did for you. “Mel. You didn’t have to-”

“I didn’t have to, but I wanted to while you got some much deserved sleep. Now, did you eat before you fell asleep grading?”

You shake your head sheepishly against her chest.

“So if I order Korean, you’ll be happy?”

“You know how to treat a girl right,” you sigh in content. Your eyes flutter shut again.

“I’ll call it in and wake you the food gets here,” she chuckles as she kisses your head again.

Your final week with your second grade class passes quickly, and while you grew to love those kids, you find yourself thrilled to be able to set foot back in Abbott with your girlfriend. Ava had graciously added you back on as an aide, even if just for the last week of school- the lord knows Melissa needs help calming down over thirty children during the final few days of school.

You’re greeted with whoops and hollers as you enter the break room. It’s like nothing changed. Melissa makes your coffee in the mug you usually drank, you sit in between the two veteran teachers while you watch the news, and then the two of you walk hand in hand down the hall to your classroom.

“Do they still remember me?” you ask her quietly as you perch yourself on her desk.

“They’ve been chattering about you nonstop,” your girlfriend tells you. “They’re so excited to see you ag-”

“Miss Y/N!” one of your kids comes running in. She immediately tackles you in a hug, and you have to place a hand on Melissa in order to steady yourself before you wrap her up in your arms.

“Hey, baby,” you grin. “I missed you!”

“We missed you!” the little girl grins.

As the rest of the kiddos come trickling in, they greet you with bear hugs and lots of chatter about all of the things the redhead has been teaching them. 

Before you know it, you’re saying goodbye to the Abbott crew for the summer, and probably for the foreseeable future. You had been offered your position back at your school in the suburbs, and you hadn’t been offered a position at Abbott- as much as you would love to come back. You leave the school helping your girlfriend carry a few things out of the classroom with a sigh.

“It’s been a good run,” you sigh softly. “I’m going to miss this place.”

“Abbott’s gonna miss you,” Melissa mumbles quietly.

You spend the summer with the fiery redhead, often times at the beach. Occasionally, Barbara would join you, but for the most part it’s just you and your girl.

The beginning of the school year starts to creep up on you quickly though. You’re actually in the middle of decorating your new classroom, Melissa holding the push pins for you when your phone starts to ring.

Your girlfriend glances over at your phone. “Ava’s callin’.”

“Hand it here,” you request, a confused look on your face.

“Hey,” you say into the phone, as you cradle it between your ear and your shoulder. You continue to try to pin up the bulletin board. “Trying to get ahold of Melissa?”

“If I wanted Schemmenti, I would’ve called Schemmenti,” she tells you bluntly. “No, girl, I’m trying to get ahold of you!”

“Oh?” You pause your actions.

“Girl, Latisha just quit ‘cause she got a new job. Suburban white girl couldn’t handle it,” the principal of Abbott says. “So, naturally- as owner of the school: I thought I would bring you back! As a third grade teacher!”

Your eyes grow wide. Melissa’s do too; she can hear the loud woman through the speaker. 

You stammer out a “W-what? R-really?”

“Of course!” she grins into the phone. “So, what do you say?”

“I- I have a contract at Old Eagle,” you say softly, a frown on your face.

“So break that bitch!”

“I-“ you pause. You glance at your girlfriend looking at you hopefully. “I can try. When do you need an answer by?”

“Today,” she sighs dramatically. “If you can’t take it, I gotta hire someone else, and it’s gonna be a bitch trying to find someone two weeks before school starts.”

“Let me- uh, I have to go talk to my principal, but I- okay,” you start to think out loud as you climb down from the desk you’re currently standing on.

“Get back to me soon. I can’t hold this job for you forever,” she tells you before hanging up. 

Melissa is looking at you with curiosity. “So, what’re you gonna do, hon?”

“I’ll be back,” you tell her as you give her a quick peck on the cheek. “I have to try to quit.”

You practically sprint down to the principal’s office. You speak with the principal about your situation, and despite his efforts to keep you at Old Eagle, you tell him your heart belongs to Abbott. 

Two hours later, after far too much paperwork, you return to your classroom- your almost classroom. Melissa had finished your bulletin board for you, and now she’s scrolling through her phone with her cat-eyed glasses on.

“Sorry, hon,” you apologize. “I didn’t think it would take that long.”

“Well?” She looks at you imploringly.

“I have to call Ava and tell her I will be accepting the second grade position at Abbott,” you grin brightly. “And then I have to take all of this down to set it up in my own classroom- right next to yours.”

Ava is delighted with your news, telling you she’s thankful that she won’t have to interview “any boring ass people who will leave in three weeks anyway”. Then she tells you to get your tasty ass into Abbott today if possible to sign your contract and start decorating for your class.

“I know we were supposed to have a nice dinner tonight, but-”

“You signing the papers to get your contract at Abbott is way more important than our dinner, amore,” Melissa says as she starts taking down the things you’ve place around. “And besides, we can always have a nice dinner afterwards.”

The two of you head down to the school in Philly, you sign your papers, and start to set up your room before heading back to her house. You pull your laptop up, eager to sign back in to your Abbott email and check your roster for this upcoming school year. She cooks, and by the time dinner is ready, you’re looking for apartments to move into in Philadelphia.

“Whatcha lookin’ at, hon?” she asks as she slides your plate over to you. “I know you ain’t still looking at your roster.”

“Apartments,” you sigh. “I figure now that I don’t have any ties to my suburban school and my lease is up in October, I might as well make the move out here.”

Your girlfriend bites her lip nervously before blurting out, “What if you just moved in with me?”

You have to stop yourself from dropping your jaw. “What?”

“I mean… you’re always here and spending the night anyway. You have a drawer at my house. Why not just- move in?”

“Are you being serious right now?” You ask her as you stand and make your way to her side of the table. 

She gives a noncommittal hum. “It’d make sense. If you-”

“I would love to,” you tell her as you crash your lips together.

The next few weeks are hectic for the both of you. In between preparing for the school year, packing up your apartment, and then development week, you both are up to your eyeballs in work. But you’re always together, and that’s what matters.

There really isn’t even a big shift in moving in with your girlfriend. She was right. Half of your things were there anyway; now it’s just official that the two of you share a home. And it truly feels like a home- much more of a home than the dingy apartment you had out in the suburbs ever was. 

On the first day of school, the two of you walk in hand in hand, having taken only one car. You watch the news together with your crew, and then you head off to your own classroom. She heads to hers. And when you go to stand outside of your room to greet your new students, you catch a glimpse of Melissa. In that moment, you know you made the right choice. Abbott is home. Melissa is home. 

[corrodedbisexual]

Helping hands (& nails)

Steddie | T | ~5.3k | AO3 link

Written for @steddie-week Day 2: hands

Featuring: Fluff and Humor, Hurt/Comfort, Homoerotic Wound Care, Flirting, First Kiss, Inexperienced Eddie Munson, Gay Eddie Munson, Confident Bisexual Steve Harrington, Eddie Munson is a Sweetheart, Eddie Munson Takes Care of Steve Harrington, Post-Stranger Things 4 Vol. 2, Alternate Universe - Everyone Lives/Nobody Dies, POV Steve Harrington

“You literally want me to scratch your back.” Steve groans. “Yes. Definitely, do that. Please.” “Hmm, I love it when they beg.” Steve freezes, speechless for a second. His face suddenly feels several degrees warmer. “Oh my god, shit, sorry, that was—” Eddie begins mumbling awkwardly, moving away, and Steve won’t have it. “Dude, you mind not flirting with me while I’m suffering here?”

It’s a little over a week since Vecna got defeated, and Steve’s got an uninvited guest at his house.

Uninvited is not the same as unwelcome, obviously. Frankly, Steve’s glad to have some company. Really glad. Although technically, Eddie Munson is still supposed to be on bed rest.

Doctor’s orders were two weeks; the demobats got the guy pretty roughed up, taking several juicy bites out of his torso before they all went down along with their master. He got patched up pretty quickly, but his overall weakened state from massive blood loss, the doctors’ concerns of infection and possible Upside Down creature-related consequences, and that annoying little matter of clearing him of the ridiculous murder charges all kept Eddie on a government-sealed floor of the hospital for a whole week, with no visitors allowed.

It’s no wonder that when he was finally discharged to go home, he lasted three whole days before showing up on Steve’s doorstep, unceremoniously inviting himself in and complaining about being so bored he was about to start clawing at the walls of his bedroom.

And, well… It’s Steve’s day off anyway, and his entire planned entertainment for the day was a potential lunch phone call from Robin to gossip and complain about how impossible Kieth is to survive a shift with.

Plus, at least it’s better if Eddie hangs out at his place instead of going out somewhere and doing something stupid that would get him to pop his stitches. Like climbing a tree. Steve hasn’t known Eddie for long, but in a way, he’s known enough to suspect something like that might happen.

But the best part is, Eddie Munson turns out to be really good company. For the first few minutes after the guy arrived, Steve’s a bit worried it would be quiet and awkward; after all, what did they have in common besides the whole Upside Down trauma (definitely not a fun conversation topic)? But the idea that it could be quiet with Eddie around turns out to be absolutely laughable. The guy keeps chatting about anything and everything, from how annoying it is to keep track of all the meds he’s supposed to take to random gossip from the trailer park. He’s vibrant and chaotic, and has a dry deadpan sense of humor that Steve finds himself genuinely laughing at; and pretty soon, he starts wondering if him and Eddie could actually be friends back in high school if the whole ridiculous system of social circles didn’t exist.

Halfway through some other half-finished thought, Eddie suddenly asks, “You hungry? I’m kinda starving, Wayne’s getting groceries tonight and the only option I had for breakfast was, I shit you not, a fucking box of Honeycombs, and honestly? I’d rather eat a demobat. Well, if it was cooked, maybe. Hey, d’you think roasted demobats could be a thing?”

He keeps rambling as he walks, with Steve trailing behind him, grinning and shaking his head because… well, damn. This guy sure is something else. Maybe exactly the kinda something Steve didn’t even know he needed in his life. Honestly, he’d probably say the same thing about Robin last year. Is this some profound universal balance thing? Out of something horrible must come something really good?

Read on AO3 | Divider credit

[ladykailitha]

Across a Crowded Room Part 2

This has five parts and is complete. It will be released every Saturday.

In this we has Steve's friends be dim, Eddie bringing breakfast, and Steve be a lovable dork.

Part 1

@mira-jadeamethyst @rozzieroos @itsall-taken @redfreckledwolf @emly03

****

Steve had been shocked by the greeting of Eddie spinning him around. But not as flabbergasted as when Eddie kissed him on the lips just for saying that he missed him.

After Eddie left, Steve felt three pairs of eyes on him and he squirmed a little under their gaze.

“What?”

“Look,” Maria said, “you have been talking this guy up for weeks. Ever since you announced he was coming to stay for a week. And yeah we knew you had a crush on the guy, but this was holy shit fastest levels of yearning to relationship I’ve ever seen.”

Jarren nodded. “I mean, he’s hotter and cooler than you said he was. Like an actual record deal for his metal band? So cool. Long curly hair and doe eyes? So hot. But that’s not the point I’m trying to make here.”

“It better not be,” Steve groused. “Mine!”

Jarren laughed. “All yours, Steve. I promise. But the point I’m trying to make here, is that you kinda blindsided us with this one. Why didn’t you tell us about him before.”

Steve looked over at Robin. “I talk to him all the time. Like prior to him coming out to Chicago, we’d constantly call and text. He’s always commenting on my socials. Like I know I’m slow, but that is extreme levels of dense.”

Jarren and Maria glanced at each other in confusion.

“Wait,” Maria said, “you’re telling me that your ‘stalker’ is that guy?” She pointed toward the door.

Stalker was the name Steve’s friends called Eddie because he would always have commented or liked Steve’s posts by at least the end of the day. Faster than even Robin most days.

“You guys didn’t know?” Robin asked. “Like how many Eddie’s do you think Steve knows?”

Jarren held up on finger and then deflated. “Fuck. Yep. We’re idiots.”

Maria tilted her head back and forth and then shrugged. “Yeaaahhh.”

“I’m going to head home,” Steve said looking at his watch. “I’ll catch you guys later.”

They all waved him off with Maria promising she’d get Robin home safe. As he walked to the door he checked his state of drunkenness. He ran his tongue over his lips and decided that an Uber was a better idea than driving home.

He scheduled the ride on his phone and lit a cigarette. He had graduated from college with a bachelor’s degree in education and basically had the whole summer off to get ready for the major change in his life.

Robin was moving out to New York to get her master’s degree and with any luck an internship at the UN as an interpreter.

She was super excited, but it would be the first time since they became friends that they would go their separate ways.

At first she had tried to convince him to do his last year of school in New York so that he could get his teacher’s certificate and teach there.

But as much as Steve was on board with the idea they both realized too quickly that Steve would be miserable in New York.

But Robin?

Robin would thrive.

So they had packed as much time together as they possibly could as they got used to the fact she would be leaving come summer’s end.

His thoughts were interrupted by the driver pulling up. After both of them triple check they were the other’s right person, Steve slid into the back of the car.

“Music or no?” the driver asked, looking at Steve in the rearview mirror.

“No music tonight, man,” Steve said. “I just want a little quiet tonight.”

The driver nodded and directed the car back to the main road that would take Steve home.

Steve made sure to tip well as the ride slipped by in blissful silence.

He thought that he would be thinking nonstop about Robin. About Eddie. About that kiss. But the quiet hum of the car in the darkness soothed Steve mind and while he didn’t sleep, he felt groggy when he got home as if he had.

He thanked the driver and began the slow trek up to the apartment he shared with Robin.

Steve stuck his key into the lock and sighed. Half the apartment was in disarray as it was nothing but half filled boxes and rolls of packing tape and bubble wrap.

Robin had already packed up her stuff and it was sitting in storage waiting for her to tell them to ship it cross country. The only bit of her things that remained was her clothes, which she had been living out of her suitcase, her daily stuff like toothbrush and shit, and her cellphone and laptop.

She had been sharing Steve’s bed because they needed to be next to each other. To hear the other breathe in their sleep. To know that their person was still there.

Yeah, okay so they weren’t handling it as well they had hoped they would.

He had taken off his shoes and flopped face down into the bed when got two messages.

The first was from Robin saying that she was staying the night Maria’s. Something they often did when they got too drunk. The second one was from Eddie.

-Sleep well, angel

Steve blushed. He didn’t even know why. There was just something so sweet about it.

-Night, Eds

He set his phone to the side and rolled over onto his back. He draped his arm of his eyes.

His plan was always going to be telling Eddie he was in love with him. It was also the plan was to move out to California with Eddie after the week. He was going to give up everything to be with him. Because he didn’t think he could live in Chicago by himself.

He had friends here. But without Robin to put a buffer between him and others when he got overwhelmed, he wasn’t sure if he could keep going out. He would become a hermit.

But now that Eddie was going to move out here, Steve knew that he would have other outlets for social interaction. He got along well with the other members of Eddie’s band and it would be great to see them again.

He got up and stripped down to his underwear. He preferred to sleep like that even in the dead of winter, but with Robin sharing the bed with him he had at least been wearing sweats to bed.

He slipped underneath the sheets and wondering what it would be like to feel Eddie’s skin between these sheets.

He fell asleep to the thoughts of Eddie curled up behind him.

****

The next morning was disturbed by the sounds of his soulmate coming home.

“Come on, dingus!” she hollered. “Up! I have coffee and breakfast.”

Steve was up and throwing on a pair sweats, hopping on one foot as he scrambled out to the kitchen.

He skidded to a stop and blinked at the sight before him.

“Look who I found on our doorstep?” Robin greeted cheerfully.

Steve smiled. “Hey, Eds. I’m guessing you are the bearer of breakfast and coffee?”

Robin squawked her outrage, but Eddie grinned. “Sure am, sweetness. Got you that caramel macchiato you love so much, an iced mocha for the lady and a dark roast, cream and two sugars for me.”

Robin glared at him.

“I kid I kid,” he said and handed her the black coffee. “It’s as dark as your soul, Buck.”

She took the coffee and sipped happily. “Yeah, you can keep him.”

Steve laughed.

“If that’s all it took to get soulmate approval,” Eddie teased, “was a single cup of coffee, I would have bought you one years ago.”

Robin pushed at him and then dug into the bag of breakfast sandwiches.

“What’s this?” she asked pulling out a sandwich in a plastic container.

Eddie snatched it out of her hands. “Mine!” He clutched it to his chest and hissed.

Robin held up her hands in surrender. She went back to her digging. She pulled out a breakfast burrito with peppers, onions, mushrooms, eggs and sausage.

“And that one’s mine...” she said sing-song, setting it to the side.

The last one she pulled out was a simple egg, cheese, and sausage on a buttery croissant. She handed it over to Steve.

“Is it creepy he knows our breakfast order?” she asked as she settled into to her coffee and breakfast.

Steve scoffed. “Robin you have posted about that same burrito almost every Sunday for the last two years, if he didn’t know what you liked, then I would be concerned.”

“Oops!” she said around a bit of food.

Eddie just shook his head and dived into his breakfast.

“What did you get, Eds?” Steve asked.

Eddie had just taken a bite, so he didn’t answer immediately. But he moaned happily around his bite.

“That, my darlin’,” he said once his mouth was clear, “is an eggs Benedict in a breakfast sandwich and I’m in heaven.” He wiped his mouth with his fingers and sucked on them to lick them clean.

Steve’s eyes went wide as he followed the movement. He licked the bottom of his lip and forced himself to look away before the situation got uncomfortable.

“It’s almost as good as the eggs Benedict Uncle Wayne used to make. I see why you guys love that place so much.”

“Yeah...” Robin said, “I’m gonna talk to Kendra and see if I can sleep on her sofa this week...”

Eddie and Steve’s heads snapped her direction.

“What?” Eddie asked, oblivious to Steve’s torture.

Robin rolled her eyes. “I don’t want to be around when the tension finally breaks and you fuck like rabbits on every surface of this apartment. Just clean up after yourselves, yeah?”

She hastily finished her burrito and kissed Steve’s cheek. She walked down the hallway to their bedroom to change out what she was wearing and to shower.

Eddie chuckled at her swift exit. “I didn’t realize I was being that obvious.”

“I think it was the moan that got her,” Steve muttered going back to his sandwich.

Eddie leaned forward and whispered, “Why, darlin'? Did it get you?”

Steve blushed all the way to the roots of his hair. He chewed on his bottom lip and then nodded.

Eddie wagged his eyebrows suggestively.

“Eds!” Steve groaned, pushing the other man’s shoulder. “At least wait until she goes to work, yeah?”

Eddie cackled. “All right, darlin’. I’ll be good until then. But after that, all bets are off.”

Steve felt like heat slid down his spine to pool in his gut.

He gulped and went back to his sandwich. Eddie and Steve were finishing up their breakfast when Robin came back out. She had her bag thrown over one shoulder, ready to go.

“I’m off at five,” she said. “So if you two wanted meet somewhere for dinner, just text me before then.”

She kissed both of them on the cheek goodbye and sauntered out the apartment with a cheerful wave and a “Don’t do anything I would do!” said over her shoulder.

“I’m not sure which of us the menace anymore,” Steve chuckled, shaking his head fondly.

Eddie pulled Steve in for a kiss. “Babe, you share the same brain cell, I’m pretty sure the answer is both of you.”

Steve snorted but couldn’t deny that Eddie was probably right.

“I’m going to miss her when she moves to New York,” he said softly.

Eddie held Steve tightly. “I know, sweetheart. Have you thought about what you want to do after she’s gone? I mean I know you were planning on moving out...” he makes a vague hand motion at the mess around them, “but where were you thinking?”

“Originally or now?” Steve asked after a moment or so just staring at him blankly.

“Is the plan different now that I’m in Chicago?” Eddie asked, pulling back so he could look Steve in the eye.

Steve pursed his lips and nodded.

“Stevie...” Eddie said warningly.

“What?”

“What was your original plan?” he asked dryly.

“Throw myself at you and move to California with you when you went back at the end of the week?” Steve said with a grimace.

Eddie blinked a moment. “Oh.”

“Oh?” Steve asked tilting his head.

Eddie steered him over to the sofa and sat him down on it. “Let’s talk about this for a minute, because even though we want the same things it seems like we’re not on the same page yet.”

Steve furrowed his brow but nodded anyway.

“Hey,” Eddie said firmly. “I’m not saying that’s a bad thing or that I don’t want to be with you. I do, but we need to have a talk about what being together means, okay?”

Steve let out a rough sigh. “Yeah okay.”

“So tell me about this plan of yours.”

Eddie settled himself on the sofa, twisting his body so he was facing Steve. He leaned one arm against the back of the sofa and laced his hands together, giving Steve his full attention.

“I was going to confess my feelings for you tonight over a fancy dinner at my favorite Italian restaurant,” Steve began. “Which I’m still taking you to, but maybe not tonight.”

Eddie smiled encouragingly. “Sounds good so far. What’s next?”

“And then if you told me you felt the same,” Steve continued, ducking his head, “I’d spend the rest of the week trying to convince you to let me go back with you to California.”

Eddie huffed out a laugh. “And what would you do back in Cali, baby?”

“I’d bartend,” Steve said with a shrug. “It’s what I did when I was going to school here anyway. Then during the day I’d get my teaching certificate in LA.”

Eddie blinked and then his expression softened. “Oh, Stevie. That sounds like a great plan. Too bad I blew by getting a record deal out here, huh?”

Steve laughed. “Nah, it just means I didn’t waste my money getting my teaching certificate for here.”

“So now what’s your plan?” Eddie asked after kissing him fiercely.

Steve shrugged. “Well, you’re here apartment hunting, so I figure I can tag along. Because something that might not work out for you...”

“Might work out for you instead,” Eddie finished. He licked the top row of his teeth thoughtful. “Sounds like fun. Let’s do it!”

“Today or later this week?”

Eddie grabbed Steve’s wrist and hauled him to his feet. “Go get dressed, baby, I want to go apartment hunting with you.”

Steve kissed him deeply and then went and did as he was told.

****

Part 3 Part 4 Part 5

Tag List: @counting-dollars-counting-stars @spectrum-spectre @estrellami-1 @zerokrox-blog @gregre369 ​@a-little-unsteddie @chaosgremlinmunson @messrs-weasley @chaoticlovingdreamer @maya-custodios-dionach @danili666 @goodolefashionedloverboi @val-from-lawrence @i-must-potato @carlyv @wonderland-girl143-blog @justforthedead89 @vecnuthy @irregular-child @bookbinderbitch @bookworm0690 @anne-bennett-cosplayer @yikes-a-bee @awkwardgravity1 @littlewildflowerkitten @genderless-spoon @cinnamon-mushroomabomination @dragonmama76 @scheodingers-muppet @ellietheasexylibrarian @thedragonsaunt @useless-nb-bisexual @disrespectedgoatman

[duxbelisarius]

Dune At Home: The First Dornish War, Part Three

Thank you to those that have followed along with this series; I hope you're enjoying it or have found it informative! if this is your first time seeing this series, check out the master post and my AO3 to read all the chapters.

Having established the basic issues with Dorne's strategy in the First Dornish War, any further assessment depends on our knowing Aegon's strategy for how he intended to conquer Dorne and the ways in which his efforts interacted with Dornish plans. This part will assess Aegon's strategy and the initial operations of both sides at the outset of the war, highlighting a stark contrast between how both sides are written in the process: Whereas Dornish strategy cannot be accommodated by the existing worldbuilding, the Seven Kingdoms appear to have no strategy at all. The outcome of the fighting in the first year of the war is the result of a distinct lack of planning or intelligent leadership by the Targaryens and their lords, which has significant implications for assessing Dorne's strategy as a whole.

We mentioned in part two that our knowledge of Dornish government and decision-making processes is not great, but this is fortunately not the case regarding the fledgling Targaryen monarchy. Aegon had his Small Council comprised of the Hand and his Masters of Ships, Laws and Coin, as well as his two sister-queens; when Argillac Durrandon rejected Aegon's offer of marriage between Orys Baratheon and Princess Argella, F&B states that Aegon called a meeting of his "friends, bannermen and principal allies," before he and his sisters settled on a course of action. We're also told that Aegon and his sisters each had a maester at their service during the Conquest, while as many a half a dozen assisted Aegon throughout his reign. The Aegonfort was clearly capable of seeking information and advice to a reasonable degree in order to pursue policies, as is made clear by Aegon's sending "a delegation of high lords, septons and maesters to Sunspear" in the year prior to the war to negotiate joining Dorne with the Seven Kingdoms. Aegon also possesses the famous 'Painted Table' at Dragonstone, a large wood-carved map of Westeros featuring fortresses, settlements, rivers and other important features, which we know was utilized by Aegon, Jaehaerys I, Rhaenyra and the Black Council, and most recently Stannis Baratheon to assist with planning.

There's no doubt that the Invasion of Dorne in 4 AC had been brewing for a significant amount of time; the letters sent by the Targaryens to the Seven Kingdoms and their lords made clear that there would only be one king in Westeros, and Rhaenys' promise to Meria Martell to return with fire and blood made it clear that Dornish unification with the realm was not optional. The Conquerors likely had at least some designs for attacking Dorne during the year of the conquest (1 BC), and there would certainly be continued discussions from 1 AC onward. The Three Sisters rebellion and the Iron Islands civil war had to be dealt with in between, but Visenya ensured the Three Sisters bent the knee soon after Aegon's official coronation, while the strife in the Iron Islands lasted only a year before Aegon arrived and ended the conflict in 2 AC. Negotiations with Dorne took the better part of a year before the invasion in 4 AC, so negotiations likely went on in 3 AC alongside a build up of troops and supplies in the Marches that may have begun in 2 AC if not earlier.

Aegon's strategy for conquering Dorne took the form of a three-pronged assault, with Rhaenys and Meraxes attacking eastern Dorne while Aegon and Balerion led a 30 000 man army through the Prince's Pass and Orys Baratheon led 1000 picked knights of the Stormlands down the Boneway. Strongholds were occupied in all three regions of Dorne: Skyreach and Yronwood in the Red Mountains, Hellholt in the western desert, and The Tor, Ghost Hill and Sunspear in eastern Dorne. Lord Jon Rosby was appointed Castellan of Sunspear and Warden of the Sands to rule Dorne on Aegon's behalf, while a host led by Harlan Tyrell, Lord Paramount of the Reach, was stationed at Hellholt to respond to any rebellions. Aegon and Rhaenys then depart with a host of unknown size, with the Dornish rebelling and massacring the occupation forces just before the Targaryens reach King's Landing.

Before discussing the numerous issues with this strategy, I want to first discuss the size of Aegon's army and the supplies required to sustain it in order to give a sense of the planning that would be required for this invasion and the problems this creates for the narrative. H. G. W. Davies provides a helpful model for understanding the logistics of horse-drawn armies which I will reference here; if you have an itch to scratch that involves military logistics and/or the history of the Eastern Front in WWII, I strongly recommend his blog. The pre-modern army is in essence a kind of micro-economy, possessing demand which must be balanced against available inputs of supply and transport in order to output mobility. The demand of Aegon's army is substantial: according to F&B, the invasion force was 31 000 strong, divided between Orys Baratheon's 1000 picked knights and Aegon's host of 30000, which contained nearly 2000 mounted knights and 300 lords and bannermen. Aegon's force compares favourably to the largest host Westeros had seen in it's history at the Field of Fire: Mern IX Gardener brought 30-35000 men of the Reach while Loren I Lannister brought 20-22000 Westermen.

The daily requirements for Aegon's army would have been 30 tonnes of rations and 240 tonnes of water per day; we have no indication of the number of horses and pack animals the army had with it, but if we assume that the nearly 2000 mounted knights and 300 lords and bannermen each had two horses, then these 4600 horses would have a daily requirement of 43.7 tonnes of fodder or 64.4 tonnes of pasturage, and 188 tonnes of water. Aegon's options for supply would have been to forage locally (ie in Dorne), to requisition supplies in return for pay locally or within his kingdom, and to stockpile ahead of time using depots and magazines. Forage presents the greatest difficulties due to the Dornish burning their crops and poisoning their wells, but F&B tells us that after emerging from the Prince's Pass, "runoff from the heights provided water and game was plentiful in the valleys" in the foothills of the Red Mountains. Such 'natural' forage would reduce consumption of supplies somewhat, as would grazing the horses and pack animals, and reducing rations for short periods would also help to somewhat reduce demand.

Regardless, most foraging, requisitioning and stockpiling would need to be done before the invasion within the borders of the Seven Kingdoms, gathering the supplies locally in the Reach and Stormlands or bringing them from further afield via road, river or sea. Aegon and his subordinates would need to already possess estimates of their supply needs based on their routes of advance alongside information about local subsistence in Dorne. Transport would also need to be obtained in the form of pack animals, wagons, and remounts to replace sick, injured or deceased animals, as well as ships to resupply the army and build-up stockpiles within Dorne. This last means would be especially vital given the great distances to be travelled within Dorne, the sparseness of the now-vanished population, and the risks of overland supply lines being attacked or cut-off entirely.

In Firearms: A Global History to 1700, Kenneth Chase gives some numbers for the transport requirements of a pre-modern army: An army of soldiers carrying 80 pounds of equipment and rations with no additional transport might march 12 miles a day for 10 days before running out; adding pack horses, carrying 250 pounds and consuming 10 pounds of fodder per day, might allow that army to make the round trip if supplies of grass, water and forage could be ensured. Supply wagons with a driver and two horses consuming 23 pounds per day and carrying 1400 pounds of supplies could each support 30 infantrymen enough for an army to march 200 miles, assuming 1 day of rest in 6 for the horses and favourable terrain. To double this range and allow the army to make a round trip of 400 miles, would require the number of wagons to increase from 1 per 30 men to 1 per 5 men, while removing abundant water and grass from the equation would cut the distance fivefold (400 miles to 80) (Firearms, pg. 17-18).

Applying Chase's ratio of 1 wagon per five soldiers to Aegon's army would land him with 6000 wagons pulled by 12000 horses, bringing the army's 'herd' to almost 17000 horses with a human to animal ratio of less than 2:1, compared to the 3.4:1 ratio for a Roman legion (Logistics of the Roman Army, pg. 83). The size of Aegon's troop and supply column would also present problems; using Bret Devereaux's estimates, a 2-horse, four-wheeled wagon might take up 25 ft of road space which would make for a double-file column 2 wagons wide and 3000 deep covering 14.2 miles. Assuming a marching rate of 12 miles, the rearmost wagons would never leave camp before the foremost stopped to make camp, and this is excluding the soldiers. Aegon would have to divide his army into multiple columns moving a day's march ahead of each other to make any kind of progress; assuming three columns, each c.10 miles long including soldiers and baggage, would cover almost 70 miles through the Prince's Pass at any given time. Unless Aegon had ravens available that could fly to and from settlements within the pass, communications would rely entirely upon dispatch riders or visual and audio signals when feasible. As noted in the Dance series, a large dragon's flight speed is somewhere around 50 miles/hour, so Aegon could fly from the head of the first column to the rear of the third in just over an hour to further ease communications, but this would provide ample opportunities for the Dornish to attack without fear of the dragons (more on this later).

Assuming that water sources could be found and there was grass for grazing, a 200 mile march might carry Aegon's army from Nightsong to Skyreach, but the other 200 theoretical miles of mobility would be used up entirely with the march to Yronwood and then into eastern Dorne. Under these circumstances, resupply by sea would be absolutely vital to the continued advance of Aegon's army, although Aegon's decision to send part of his host against Hellholt before marching east would reduce their demand somewhat. Regardless, the disappearance of the Dornish population would almost guarantee Aegon's defeat by itself, as without a population to requisition supplies from the occupiers would have to resort to farming themselves and/or rely entirely on imports, the latter being ruinously expensive and risky given Dorne's proximity to the pirate-infested Stepstones and the inclement weather the Narrow Sea experiences during autumn and winter.

As should be clear, availability of supplies would make or break Aegon's invasion, and prior planning for the invasion would have been absolutely vital; unfortunately, the execution of the invasion suggests that neither Aegon nor George considered these implications. To start, we have the astonishing fact that none of the Westerosi fleets make an appearance in the war let alone the invasion. How this is possible when Aegon just fought two conflicts involving naval forces, the Three Sisters rebellion and the Iron Islands civil war, and his conquest of the 7K began with delivering his forces to Blackwater Bay by ship and sending the Velaryon Fleet against the Vale, is beyond me. What's worse is that Aegon was and is Lord of Dragonstone, an island, and his family's oldest bannermen also have their house seats on islands, House Velaryon of Driftmark and House Celtigar of Claw Isle; it is impossible for Aegon to be ignorant of naval logistics given that the provisioning of his home and it's defense (aside from the dragons) relies upon it. In fact, the only member of the Small Council with an explicitly military role is the Master of Ships.

It is true that Daemon Velaryon was killed fighting the Arryns and 2/3rds of his fleet were sunk or captured, the latter likely going up with the Arryns ships when Visenya burned them, but construction of a new fleet should have been a priority in the 3 or so years prior to the invasion of Dorne. Even without the Velaryon Fleet, the Lannisters, Redwynes and Tyrells all provided their naval strength to the invasion of the Iron Islands (I'm assuming the Hightowers and Shield Isles were the Tyrell forces here), and Braavosi ships were hired to transport Manderly forces to the Three Sisters. Between his own ships, his bannermen, the ability to hire sellsails, and the potential to enlist pirates as the Dornish do in 8 AC, Aegon has plenty of options for assembling a fleet to support his armies (and they will need naval support). Dorne also has the facilities to support Aegon's army via the sea between Planky Town with it's access to the Greenblood and The Tor and Ghost Hill; the latter two's ports accommodated large pirate fleets on two separate occasions, in 8 AC when Dornish forces raided Cape Wrath and burned half the Rain Wood and in 83 AC during the so-called 'Fourth Dornish War.' We also shouldn't rule out the potential for Yronwood to service shallow-drafted ships given it's proximity to the Sea of Dorne's coast and the mouth of a river to it's north.

A further example of the absence of naval forces of any kind from Aegon's invasion comes with the opening act of the war, Rhaenys' destruction of Planky Town. Torching Dorne's largest settlement, its major port and closest thing to a city, drowning hundreds in the Greenblood and depriving thousands of their homes and livelihoods, all but guarantees Rhaenys a place in the Seven Hells. Even worse, with the mouth of the Greenblood choked by the wreckage of hundreds of ships and the houses and walkways built atop them, sea-faring ships cannot unload at Planky Town or venture up the Greenblood and it's tributaries, and vice-versa for Dornish rivercraft carrying goods from the interior. Rhaenys' actions rule out using the Greenblood to resupply Aegon's forces, and severely damages the Dornish economy for both occupiers and indigenous population. This ignorance of the importance of sea power to the survival of Aegon's army is simply inexcusable and unjustifiable on George's part.

The apparent absence of any strategy or planning on Aegon's part is reinforced by the decision to occupy Hellholt, the seat of House Uller; this comes after the army emerges from the Prince's Pass, with Aegon continuing east via Skyreach while Tyrell takes a host into the western desert. According to F&B, Hellholt was thought to be well placed for responding to any revolts, but the march there from Skyreach cost Tyrell a quarter of his men and almost all of his horses due to dehydration, exposure and presumably the local water sources being poisoned. This decision makes no sense on multiple levels, the most obvious being that Hellholt's location on the map of Dorne is well within the western desert, far south and west of the Red Mountains and eastern Dorne respectively, where the bulk of Dorne's population lives. TWOIAF also tells us that the Qorgyles established their seat of Sandstone by "fortifying the only well for fifty leagues around," which allows us to extrapolate distances quite well. We can reasonably assume that Sandstone is 50 leagues/150 miles or more away from Hellholt, Starfall and Skyreach; a rough estimate from looking at our maps of Dorne suggests that Hellholt is likewise 150 or more miles from Skyreach, Yronwood and Vaith.

As noted already, Aegon could carry supplies for a 400 mile round trip assuming sufficient water, forage and grass was available locally; if the march through the Prince's Pass was 200 miles or so, a march of more than 150 miles to Hellholt would see Tyrell arrive with little to no supplies for his men, guaranteeing their starvation. Such a march through the desert with no access to water or grass would cut Tyrell's range from 200 to 40 miles, meaning his forces would have died of thirst and starvation long before they made it to Hellholt. F&B also claims that Aegon's forces were "already running short of food and fodder" by the time the exited the Pass, making Tyrell's march more unbelievable still.

It is also very likely that the march was unnecessary since we have evidence that Rhaenys had already passed that way: F&B tells us that the she stopped at Lemonwood, Spottswood and Stinkwater to receive their submission after destroying Planky Town. Lemonwood is southwest of Planky Town, and while we don't know the location of Spottswood (the seat of House Santagar), we do know of only one place in Dorne where the 'water stinks,': the Brimstone River. This suggests that Rhaenys was flying westwards and this makes sense given that she's effectively retracing her steps from when she first visited Dorne in 1 BC, when she flew over the Prince's Pass, over the red and white sands, and along the Greenblood before arriving at Sunspear. In this case she would be flying from the mouth of the Greenblood to the Brimstone before turning back to Sunspear, but she had ample opportunity to scope out Hellholt and Sandstone and then turn north to report her findings to Aegon. Lest we forget, Rhaenys is Aegon's younger sister and his favoured wife, the mother of his first child and whose death in the First Dornish War deeply affects him. Despite this, she offers no support to the invasion whatsoever despite having ample opportunity to do so, revealing once again the shocking lack of planning or strategy by Targaryens.

The last act of Aegon's invasion and the most egregious demonstration of the lack of strategy comes after he arrives at Sunspear with his host. Aegon declares the conquest of Dorne complete and departs with Rhaenys and a host, appointing Jon Rosby the Warden of the Sands and Castellan of Sunspear to rule Dorne in his name. The problem with this decision should be obvious: the Dornish have burned their fields, poisoned their wells and then some, their major port and settlement has been destroyed and their major artery of trade is compromised, and the vast majority of their population has vanished. Being a feudal, Medieval setting, Dorne cannot support Aegon's garrisons or yield income and taxes for the new lords and the crown without the labour of the peasants that are currently missing.

Aegon cannot leave, or at the very least Visenya should replace Aegon and Rhaenys in Dorne before they depart to support further operations: the Dornish population must be found, wells need to be restored, and the wreckage of Planky Town needs to be cleared. Aegon's garrisons will require resupply by sea immediately, or else they'll have to provide their own food and fodder via farming in addition to defending their strongholds and enforcing Aegon's reign. With a presumably sizeable chunk of the original invasion host now stranded at Helholt under Harlan Tyrell, one dragon at least will be required to respond quickly to crises and to deliver important messages across Dorne and to King's Landing. One also wonders why Aegon has not moved his court to Storm's End, Oldtown, or even Nightsong to better oversee the war, given how far away Dragonstone and KL are and the underdeveloped nature of the latter.

Regardless, the culmination of Aegon's 'strategy' sees the garrisons in Dorne effectively abandoned: they have no dragons or ships to assist them; the host intended to support them against rebellions is stranded in the desert even though it should already have starved to death; while their own supplies should be limited without the non-functioning Dornish economy. It is no surprise at all that the Dornish overwhelmed these forces as it would have been embarrassing had they not done so, but this brings us back to the flaws inherent in Dorne's strategy (or what passes for it). As we discussed in Part Two, Dorne's strategy relies on hiding it's population from invasion using means that are somehow never mentioned in their history before, and abandoning their settlements to the invaders and destroying their own resources while presumably surviving entirely with stored food in a way that is unprecedented in our history of George's story. This is then capped off by sudden attacks that commence only after George has ensured the Targaryens have sabotaged their own efforts, either intentionally or unintentionally. Dorne's plan for driving out the invaders ends up being riddled with so many single points of failure that it beggars belief how Meria Martell and her lords could have supported this plan to begin with.

F&B says that the Dornish rebel shortly before Aegon reaches King's Landing with his host, which is an improvement over TWOIAF's account that Aegon and Rhaenys flew back to King's Landing and the rebellions began on their arrival. A dragon should be able to fly from Sunspear to King's Landing in c. 18 hours or two days of travel, based on our calculations from the Dance series, and this would be far too short a time for the Dornish to coordinate their attacks. F&B instead has Aegon and his host march back the way they came along the coast of the Sea of Dorne and the foothills of the Red Mountains and back up through the Prince's Pass; per the distance map of Westeros, Nightsong in the Dornish Marches is c.625 miles from King's Landing as the crow flies, or c.52 days at a rate of 12 miles per day. I think we can safely double this to account for the march from Sunspear to the Prince's Pass and the routes they would have taken within the Seven Kingdoms, giving a passage of time of a little over 3 months.

Aegon's returning host would be a great deal smaller than the original force, between casualties, garrison detachments and Tyrell's force; indeed it would have to be a mere fraction of the 30000-man army if it hoped to return via the same route, past fields it's horses had already grazed and areas already heavily foraged for what little could be found. They should be returning by ship if they want to return at all given how desperate their supply situation should be, but regardless of this, Skyreach, Yronwood, The Tor and Ghost Hill fall within a fortnight of Aegon's return, with Sunspear falling soon after. TWOIAF dates the death of Harlan Tyrell to 5 AC meaning the fall of Sunspear and the loss of the other garrisons likely came just before or after the beginning of 5 AC. The only hints we're given about how this campaign took place is that Dornish spearmen 'appeared from nowhere' and that the Dornish 'swarmed in' from the Shadow City to 'retake the castle' at Sunspear. That it took close to a fortnight indicates that even with some level of surprise and subterfuge involved, not all of the castles were retaken simultaneously and without any resistance from their garrisons, which held out for two weeks at the latest.

The obvious problem facing this scenario is that of communications: leaving aside how the Dornish were able to coordinate their efforts, the idea that two weeks of fighting took place without any intervention from the Targaryens or Harlan Tyrell is extremely suspect. Based on our calculations from the Dance series, the conquerors dragons should have been able to fly them from King's Landing to Skyreach in 8 hours, while a raven could make that flight in perhaps 8 days. In order to avoid the Tyrell host or the Targaryen dragons supporting the garrisons, the Dornish have to count on a complete communications failure across all five castles. But this cannot have been the case given that word of the fall of Sunspear eventually reaches Harlan Tyrell at Hellholt, suggesting at least some degree of information being exchanged between King's Landing and the forces in Dorne.

Even if subterfuge ensured the fall of some of the castles, Aegon's garrisons have had weeks if not months to familiarize themselves with their surroundings, while the elderly, women and children left behind in the Dornish settlements should absolutely have been held as hostages by Aegon's men, limiting their ability to contribute to the rebellion. Had the Dornish infiltrated the castles using tunnels, we would also expect their fall to have taken much less than two weeks and to merit some mention beyond the generic phrase 'appearing from nowhere;' in fact, the attackers at Sunspear had to swarm into the castle from the labyrinthine Shadow City. The Dornish would had to have stormed or besieged the castles to retake them, and both options involve considerable risk, as Geoffrey Parker made clear in his ground-breaking work The Army of Flanders and the Spanish Road, 1567-1659. Between 1578 and 1590, the Spanish Army of Flanders captured 95 Dutch towns, of which 60 required direct military action to take and only 4 of the remaining 35 fell to ruse or surprise. Only 9 of the 60 taken by military action fell by storming and only after they had been besieged for some time, and this was all done with the aid of gunpowder weaponry and executed by perhaps the finest armed force Early Modern Europe had ever seen (Spanish Road, 7-8).

The result is that the Dornish strategy has multiple single points of failure of which any combination would surely doom their plans. Any communication with KL will bring a dragon and/or reinforcements down upon the Dornish; a single dragon remaining in Dorne will render siege operations unthinkable; not sending the Tyrell host into the desert for no reason whatsoever likewise makes siege warfare risky; and the presence of naval support to resupply Aegon's garrisons would further harm any chances the Dornish had for success. All of this is after the Dornish have abandoned their castles, destroyed their own resources, and allowed Aegon's army to occupy important locations in their country. As we said in Part 2, the scale of these efforts is simply too great for the story to accommodate, while the levels of contrivance required to ensure Dornish success render any suspension of disbelief impossible.

As promised in Part 2, there WILL be a 'fix-it' section now; it might seem strange given how bonkers a lot of the issues are, but there is an entirely plausible scenario for the invasion to be constructed from what George has given us. The common thread having been George's struggles with scale, all that really needs to be done is to rein in the scenario somewhat and render it more manageable. I would start by having the war end in 7 AC when Orys and his knights are ransomed in our timeline (IOTL). In this timeline (ITTL) I would keep Aegon's plan more or less the same, with a few changes: Firstly, the invasion would take place in two phases with a ground assault through the Prince's Pass, followed by a naval assault on Planky Town and the Greenblood by an invasion fleet, with the forces involved being 25000 and 5000 men respectively. Once Aegon has taken Skyreach and is through the Red Mountains, the plan is to send the invasion fleet to take Planky Town and then ferry supplies and reinforcements to Aegon, with further supplies being shipped from Stonehelm, Weeping Town, Estermont and Tarth to The Tor and Ghost Hill once these have been taken.

Secondly, while the timeline would remain the same in terms of 3 or so years passing between Aegon's Conquest and the invasion of Dorne, I would make it clear that the Dornish have not completely hidden underground. Farming continues so as to allow more food to be stockpiled while instead of ceding most of the country to the invaders and then driving them out, the Dornish strategy is instead to utilize the terrain of the Marches to their advantage and prevent Aegon from pushing any further south. Just because this scenario has Aegon actually use the three years to prepare and plan intelligently does not automatically mean he can defeat the Dornish without George's strategy; I would make it clear that maesters, septons, septas and merchants north and south of the Marches are communicating about the King's preparations, knowingly and unknowingly providing intel to the Dornish, with trade between the 7K and the Free Cities also acting as a source. In addition to the tunnels and caves in the Red Mountains, I would have the Dornish prepare additional tunnels and concealed fortifications, with ambushes being pre-planned and supply depots being hidden in forward areas to assist the Dornish forces. Deria Martell could even be sent by her grandmother to oversee these preparations and ensure the necessary coordination, and to reassure the 'Stony Dornish' of Sunspear's commitment to their defense.

Since their lack of strategic depth precludes the Dornish from making extensive retreats, in this scenario the other houses of Dorne move their forces into the Red Mountains to reinforce the 'Stony' lords, with the goal being to leverage the terrain multipliers offered by the mountains to attrite and destroy the invading army. The dragons still present a problem for any invasion scenario, but there are numerous factors that Dorne could use to its advantage, starting by having the weather affect the campaign in a different way than IOTL. 4 AC was the second year of autumn and so the rainy season for Dorne should have been well under way by this point with winter on the horizon; the Boneway could be rendered impassable by unseasonably bad rain and snow, forcing Aegon to commit his entire force to the Prince's Pass and allowing the Dornish to focus all their strength along the route from the border to Skyreach. The rain and snow would also make things miserable for the dragons and hamper Aegon and Rhaenys' efforts to assist their army. This would make mudslides an issue in certain areas while the Dornish could trigger rockslides and even avalanches to block certain parts of the Pass; the only way to clear such obstacles swiftly would be for the dragons to clear it themselves (dragons dig, more on this in Part 4!), preventing them from covering the column from above and rendering their riders vulnerable to missiles fired from the ground.

The danger of dragon fire could also be mitigated by having the Dornish engage the invaders as closely as possible, forcing Aegon and Rhaenys to risk killing their own troops in order to attack the Dornish from above. The sheer size of Aegon's army would also provide opportunities to do damage without risking dragon attacks: as we've already discussed, Aegon's original army of 30000 would had to have divided itself up into multiple columns, with a day's march separating them. Even if both Rhaenys and Aegon are routinely flying the length of the column to provide reconnaissance and communicate with their subordinates, this would still leave sections without their aid or protection even with TTL's reduced force of 25000 men. The Dornish could inflict serious casualties on those parts of the column without dragon support, while demolishing bridges and cratering sections of road would further delay the advance, and night attacks could also be made to inflict further loss and to sap the strength and morale of Aegon, Rhaenys, and their soldiers. More importantly, the delays imposed by these obstacles and ambushes gives the Dornish time to relay information and create a picture of Aegon's dispositions and present location along the entire route.

TTL's defeat of Aegon's invasion force would be much closer to the Teutoburg Forest or Roncevaux Pass than George's likely inspiration for the First Dornish War, the Vietnam War (I'll discuss this in greater detail when we get to the aftermath of the war). I would have the campaign culminate near Skyreach, with Aegon be alerted to an attack on the main body by Alester Oakheart, sounding his horn a la The Song of Roland; we don't know in which war the events with Oakheart and his horn took place, but this would be a fitting setting for it. With Aegon and Rhaenys flying to assist the main body and rearguard under Tyrell and Rosby, the Dornish move in and slaughter the vanguard while taking Orys Baratheon and his retainers prisoner. What happens next would depend on the fate of Rhaenys ITTL: Aenys is born in 7 AC IOTL, so he would have to be aged up a few years if Rhaenys dies in or before 7 AC instead of in 10 AC. She could be killed by falling from Meraxes after being wounded by a Dornish archer, with Meraxes going mad and attacking the Dornish and Targaryen hosts, forcing Aegon and Balerion to kill Rhaenys' beloved mount. With his army strung out and tired, a demoralized and heartbroken Aegon could withdraw his men, running a gamut of Dornish ambushes back to Nightsong with what remains of his host.

Conversely, Aegon could jump the gun at Skyreach and send Rhaenys with orders for the invasion fleet to set sail, at which point the final attacks would take place and Rhaenys could join him in ushering the host back over the border. Aenys is conceived not long after and Rhaenys dies sometime in 6 or 7 AC. Either way, I would also have Aegon's invasion fleet run afoul of the autumn storms and be destroyed, whether en route to Planky Town by mistake in the second scenario or returning to King's Landing in the first one. The loss of his fleet and the inclement weather in the marches, alongside Rhaenys' death either on the march or later, could even be interpreted by some members of the Faith as the Seven punishing Aegon for his hubris and 'other transgressions' (*cough cough* incestuous polygamy *cough cough*). TTL's 'dragon's wroth' takes place from 5 to 7 AC, and the war concludes with Orys and Dorne's other hostages being returned along with Meraxes' skull and Rhaenys' remains. TTL's First Dornish War is a year or two longer than the Dance of the Dragons (4-7 AC vs 129-131 AC) and about as long as Daeron I's Conquest (157-161 AC).

As we talked about in Part 2, strategy involves the identification of means and ends for the pursuit of policy, whether military or not. Although the term gets thrown around quite a lot in business, leadership and other facets of contemporary life, it's conceptualization of means and ends is quite relevant to the process of writing a story. George has often spoken about 'architects' and 'gardeners,' and while his adherence to the latter style has produced the excellent series of books whose history we are currently exploring, I think the issue with F&B may lie in his not adjusting to a more 'architectural' style in making a faux history. Many of the events that F&B covers have outcomes that are already known to us from ASOIAF and TWOIAF, but this unfortunately results in very linear depictions of events (see the Dance series for examples).

Just because you've already determined a side will lose a war does not mean that you can just write them to lose, anymore than you can have their foes take any risks they choose simply because you the writer have already decided they shall win. These characters exist in a world and possess their own ideas, beliefs and sense of self; they must have their own ends and their own means, with the goal of the writer being to have them arrive at an intended point by pursuing those ends with those means, modulated by their interactions with the world around them and the characters within it. The writer may have their own ends as the creator of the story and it's world, but they must grasp the means that they have given themselves to reach those ends within the world of their story, developing new means for progressing the story which are consistent with the story's prior development. This is crucial because it allows the reader to reasonably suspend disbelief and immerse themselves in the story, through understanding what the characters can and cannot do, the choices they can and cannot make, and the obstacles they can and cannot overcome.

Make no mistake, George is an excellent writer who has achieved more than I and most people reading this could ever dream of in life, let alone in his career as a writer. Nonetheless, I really wish he'd been able to devote more care to his 'strategy' for writing the First Dornish War, as I believe a more feasible but no less compelling faux-history could have been told using the 'means' already available to him within his own worldbuilding. Regardless, this finally concludes Part 3 and our discussions of Dornish and Targaryen strategy at the start of the First Dornish War. My deepest thanks for sticking around this long, but we're not out of the Prince's Pass yet; in Part 4 we'll be covering the tactics utilized and the operations conducted by both sides from the beginning of the war to it's end, with a lot to say about the dragons. Catch you on the flip side!

[megumi-fm]

Hi Meg, I was wondering if I could get your insight on something... I'm interested in bioinformatics as a career but am not sure whether I should pursue just a Master's or try for a PhD. How did you decide how far you want to go with your education? I noticed you mentioned you hope to do a PhD someday? Thank you so much!

hey anon! okay, so in this answer I'ma focus on two things:

my thought process behind finalizing on a PhD

my approach to furthering education

I. Why PhD?

1. I love my subjects. I love the interdisciplinary nature of computational biology and it's sister subjects and I can see myself in academia- constantly learning and researching and exploring. 2. Even on the off chance that if I don't pursue a career in academia, I think I need a PhD anyway? Most high level positions in the industry for life-sciences requires a level of expertise that only comes with a doctorate, and I think my career opportunities (+ growth) will be rather limited without it.

Considering these two points, a PhD would be most suitable for me.

———————

Now, choosing the right type of graduate program can always be challenging because there are so many ways to go about it, and I am a very indecisive person so this was especially difficult for me. Here is my approach

II. Factors I considered before taking my next steps

My Primary Short-Term Goal(s)

I opted for a B.Tech in Biotechnology after 12th grade, and it is through the course of this degree that I realized my interest in computational biology and bioinformatics. My undergrad focused on too many topics and often emphasized wet lab over dry lab, so although I'm graduating with a specialization in Medicinal and Computational Biology, I don't know nearly enough regarding the computational aspects Thus, my short-term goal is to expand my theoretical understanding of the important aspects of bioinformatics & computational biology.

2. Course Options that Work

Now, I know that I want to continue my education, I've got two options- Masters and PhD. When I considered my immediate goal against these two options, I realized four things: a. I'm not equipped with the required dry lab skills to dive headfirst into research. b. I don't know enough bioinformatics to commit to anything long term right now c. I'm looking for a course that feels like an extension of my undergrad d. I want to keep my options open and consider all career opportunities Given these three options (+ course-related expenses + my skill level), it made most sense for me to choose a MSc at the moment rather than a PhD.

3. How the Course Ties in to My Long Term Goals

As I mentioned, my long term goal is to do a PhD. However, my upcoming graduate course is actually an MSc by Coursework degree, which- unlike a Thesis program, focuses on skill development (especially industry related) rather than research. In fact, most Thesis Masters can be converted to a PhD, but my program does not have that option. At first glance, this course might seem like it's going against my long term goal but consider: - Industry related or not, I need to develop computational skills before I can pursue research - After this course I might prefer to gain work experience for a couple years before opting for a PhD. - My preferred uni(s) for PhD are different from my preferred uni for Masters. [^To give an example on the last point, for masters i considered countries/unis known for their quality of education + closer to my home country (this will be my first time living abroad alone) but for my PhD, I'm looking at countries/unis that are pioneers in research for my subjects of interest (even if they are a lot farther away from home)] So essentially, I'm relying on this course to give me the skills and knowledge I need for a PhD in the future, while also giving me a buffer to understand and align my future goals and plans. Jumping from this to a PhD would be a lot harder than from a Thesis Masters, but that's a risk I'm willing to take.

So yeah, this was the way I went about choosing both my short term and long term academic goals. I hope this provides a good starting point for you! Don't stress out too much about it though; the truth is that there is no right or wrong choice, whatever decision you make will warp around your intentions and work for you the way you want it to. Best of luck for your future endeavors!!! I'm sure it'll all work out <3

[liminal-station]

MODCAT’S HALLOWEEN SPECIL

Happy Halloween, people of Earth! Today is a day of costumes, candy, and booping, apparently. And for the last few days, I’ve been working on a treat to give to all of you!

I deal with the multiverse a lot on this blog, so I’ve seen my fair share of differences and oddities. For instance, did you know there’s a world where the Subway Bosses aren’t Pokemon characters, but are actually characters from a Tim Burton film? In the film, Ingo dies and enters the afterlife, where he is selected by the ferryman Charon to take his place. He uses his power to travel back to the world of the living and reunite with Emmet, setting the stage for a macabre adventure between worlds.

Eeeeexcept that’s not actually a universe I or the Liminal Twins have been to. It’s an AU I’ve had in the works for around a year now, titled Psychopomp and Circumstance. I’m excited to release the first chapter once it’s completed, but for now, I’ve got a tasting portion for you to sink your teeth into, with a special guest appearance by the ghost with the most, if you know what I mean~

Word count: 3663

Content warnings: frequent death mentions, detached body parts (cartoony), mild swearing, kicking a horse, insects inside someone

Spoilers for Beetlejuice 1 and 2

Enjoy! And remember… don’t say his name three times.

Amongst the dead, only two men have the power to travel to the world of the living whenever they please and be seen by living humans. One is the psychopomp, appointed by Charon himself and given the sacred task of escorting the dead to their resting place. The other, the afterworld’s most wanted criminal. The man was easy to find, but hard to catch; simply saying his name aloud thrice was all it took to invoke him, but he obeyed no law but his own. In his hundreds of years of undeath, he had become a master of dark magic, with the power to warp reality itself in the blink of an eye. Not even the living were immune to his cruel and unusual machinations. The dead all knew him by name, but few dared to speak it.

It had been a few weeks since Ingo Vanderbilt’s tragic death. After being chosen to take over as the official psychopomp, he returned to Earth to reunite with his brother, Emmet, and show him the truth of life and death. Since that day, Emmet made a habit of visiting the afterworld as his brother's official plus-one. He was nowhere near used to the macabre and unsettling nature of the place, but he found that death wasn’t all that different from life, and he was, of course, grateful to have his twin brother back.

The two of them were headed to meet up with one of Ingo’s new acquaintances, a woman named Irida who was a great warlord in ancient Japan. Emmet was still quite a bit bewildered that his brother held such a high rank in the afterlife, but proud of him nonetheless. As they walked through the winding cobblestone streets, Emmet following the light of his brother’s lantern, Ingo spotted a wall of posters illuminated by a skull-shaped street lamp. Emmet didn’t even notice Ingo had stopped until he heard the sound of paper ripping.

“Uh… Ingo? Why exactly are you taking down that poster?”

Ingo ripped the poster into unreadable scraps with his skeletal hands, and tossed them to the howling wind.

“We cannot have that fiend advertising his “services”. Not on my watch.” Ingo began to tear off a few more of the posters, letting them fall to the ground. Curious, Emmet picked up one of the posters…

TROUBLED BY THE LIVING? Exor-cise YOUR right to rest in peace! Call the afterlife’s leading bio-exorcist TODAY toll-free!

Commercial - Residential - Industrial

BETELGEUSE BETELGEUSE BETELGEUSE

“Ingo, you have to be overreacting. Sure, this could be a scam, but you should really deal with that through the proper channels!”

“You don’t understand”, Ingo said as his half-rotten head turned a perfect 180 degrees to look at his brother. “That man is a danger to both the dead AND the living. That “bio-exorcism” gig is just his way to open the door… and once that door is open, he is uncontrollable. He can even bring direct harm to the living…”

Emmet’s eyebrows shot up. “H-he can hurt the living? I thought that was forbidden!”

“It is. But he knows the laws from front to back, and he knows exactly how to bend them. If some poor soul happened to summon him, the entire afterworld could be in danger.”

Emmet looked down at the flier again. It even had a section detailing this man’s “romantic” services… ew. But Emmet simply couldn’t see how something like this could be the work of an immortal dark mage…

“If he really is a danger to ghost-anity, I’m sure the authorities are already looking for him. Besides, how is anyone supposed to get a hold of him, anyway? There’s no phone number to be seen anywhere in this entire advertisement! Just the word “Betelgeuse” over and over…”

“Emmet, I am warning you from the bottom of my cold, unbeating heart to NOT say that name. If you say it three times in a row…”

“Okay, okay! I will conduct my safety checks, you can trust me…”

As the twins continued to walk through the twisted streets, paved with chunks of gravestone and dead grass, Emmet couldn’t shake the thought of that name. Every time Ingo would take down one of the advertisements, he would glance down at the scraps and repeat that accursed name in his head. He was used to Ingo haunting the station, but for his mind to be haunted was a totally different experience.

“Quite a few beetles out today…” Ingo remarked offhandedly as he felt the crunch of a beetle under his boot. Beetle… could it be? Was this some sort of sign? Emmet tried his best to keep his composure, but he began to wonder… What would happen? What would truly happen if he gave in and summoned the bio-exorcist? He was not even sure what services he would need, or what he would be paying in, but the thought was almost demonically tantalizing, and the sensation only grew with every second. He began mouthing the word silently… Betelgeuse. Beetle-Juice. It felt… right, somehow. It was as if he was born to say that name.

“Emmet? Earth to Emmet!”

Emmet quickly snapped out of his own thought spiral.

“Uh- yeah. I-I’m okay.”

Ingo looked incredibly worried. “You froze in the middle of the sidewalk… are you getting tired? Do you not want to meet Irida? Both are quite okay, I promise.”

Emmet shook his head, his mind still filled with thoughts. “N-no, it’s just… I-I’ll be alright, brother.”

Ingo placed his cold hands on his brother's shoulders. “You are clearly not. Is it the temperature? Us dead folk can withstand the cold, but you’re still alive. Do you want to wear my coat?”

A beetle fluttered past and landed on Ingo’s arm. That small event, a single insect, was all it took for Emmet to finally break.

“B-Buh… Buh…”

“Emmet?!? Don’t worry, I’ll get you back to the world of the living. Just remain calm!”

“Buh… Beetlejuice…”

Ingo took a step back. “E-Emmet? You’ll be okay, we-“

“Beetlejuice.” Emmet was set in his ways. He didn’t even look at his brother. Ingo tried desperately to make his brother reconsider, but he feared it was already too late.

“Brother! Please, you must change your track! You don’t understand what this could do! You could be putting us both in danger!

But Emmet did not hesitate. He couldn’t live without knowing. The curiosity gnawed at his very soul, pushing him forward, forcing that last word out of his mouth. He tossed aside his fears, and proclaimed:

“BEETLEJUICE!”

The ground began to shake as the sky clouded over, flashing with green lightning and booming thunder. The twins held on tight to their hats as the wind quickly sped up, on the verge of becoming a hurricane. To Emmet, it felt as though the world had started spinning, spinning, spinning…

And then, it stopped. Emmet steadied himself, allowing his racing heart to slow down. The twins found themselves standing in what appeared to be a small call center, staffed entirely by men with shrunken heads who answered call after call despite all their mouths being sewn shut.

“Ingo? Uh… where are we?”

“I don’t care where we are. We have to get out.” He hoisted up the Stygian Lantern, the ancient artifact bestowed upon him by Charon that granted him the ability to travel anywhere in seconds…

“Huh? Where did the lantern go?!”

The lantern, the source of Ingos power, was nowhere to be found. He began to panic, knowing he was utterly powerless without it and had no means of escape or self-defense.

“Looking for this?”, said a voice that sounded like it had been smoking a pack a day for the past hundred years. The twins turned to face a man sitting at the desk who definitely hadn’t been there moments before. His legs were crossed with his feet resting on the desk, and he dangled the lantern above his head, his sunken eyes going over every detail.

“Been meaning to get my hands on this puppy. Thanks for dropping it off, boys!”

“You will give that back this instant!” Ingo proclaimed, standing his ground even in this unfamiliar place. “That lantern is mine and mine alone! Only I can wield it!”

“Hm… nah.” Instead of standing up, Beetlejuice simply floated out of his seat casually. “With this little doohickey, I’ll finally be able to get around that “saying my name three times” rule. And then I can visit Lydia whenever I want.”

Emmet finally chimed in, nervously asking “Uh… who’s Lydia?”

“Who’s Lydia?! Only the most beautiful, kind-hearted, angelic woman I’ve met in 500 years! I simply can’t imagine after-living without her…” Sad music began to play from everywhere at once, as if the air itself turned into pure song. “But she rejected me BOTH times I tried to force her to marry me!”

“Um… that doesn’t exactly seem consensual, Mister Juice, sir…” Emmet stammered.

“You’re doing all this… because of a CRUSH?! An UNREQUITED one at that?!? Ugh… you will hand the Stygian Lantern back NOW.”

Beetlejuice simply cackled, filling the air with the disgusting stench of his breath. “Last time I checked, the guy with the lantern makes the rules… and the guy with the lantern is ME. Sayonara, fuckers.”

With a raise of his hairy eyebrow, a trapdoor in the floor opened up, or rather, manifested on the spot. The brothers Vanderbilt held onto each other's hands as they fell, eventually landing on a sand dune. Emmet coughed up sand, meanwhile Ingo didn’t need to as it passed right through his exposed, organless ribcage.

“Where are we now?” Emmet asked. Ingo tried to speak, but was interrupted by a booming roar. Something big was rustling underneath the surface, encircling them…

Suddenly, it burst up from underground in a cloud of desert sand. The twins were face to face with a sandworm, the apex predator of Saturn’s moon. It opened its massive, fanged mouth full of stalactite-sized teeth, revealing a second head within, both salivating at the sight of their next meal.

“INGO?! WHAT DO WE DO?!?”

“It should be obvious… WE RUN!!!”

The two bolted away, rushing through the sandy canyon of the alien planet. Ingo held Emmet’s hand as they ran, dragging him along since Ingo didn’t have lungs to run out of breath with. The beast swam in and out of the sand as it hunted them down, snaking in a zig-zag pattern to gain speed. Its jaws were so close, Emmet could nearly feel its breath on the back of his neck.

The twins spotted a strangely-shaped rock and immediately crouched down behind it, keeping as quiet as they possibly could. Ingo’s heart would be pounding out of his chest, if he had a heart or a chest. The sandworm continued to scan the area, using its heat-sensitive vision to hunt down ghosts, its favorite prey. Emmet held his breath, trying to make himself as small as possible, while Ingo contemplated how the hell they were going to get out of this. He knew he would simply be digested and pop back up in the afterworld, but that wasn’t an option since Emmet was still alive. Suddenly, the trapdoor opened up again, and a hand reached down from the hole in the sky.

“Grab my hand!”

It was Irida! Ingo and Emmet knew they had no time to question how she had found them. They waited until the worm dove back under the sand, and when it did they ran as fast as they could back to the trapdoor. Unfortunately, the worm could sense something hot and cold nearby, and went right back to the chase.

“Emmet, it’s too high up! How are we going to reach?!”

Emmet tried to think, although his mind was mainly focused on survival.

“I’ve got it! You can detach your limbs, right? Take off your arm! I’ll hold onto your leg, don’t worry!”

“On it!” Ingo grabbed onto his right shoulder with his left hand, and ripped it out at the base. Emmet was still amazed that he felt no pain whatsoever from doing that. Holding his detached arm in his other hand, he was able to reach up to take Irida’s hand. She pulled them up with all her strength, luckily avoiding the sandworm’s jaws just in time. The trapdoor shut behind them and fused back into the floorboards as Beetlejuice’s magic wore off. Emmet collapsed on the ground, huffing shallow breaths and trying to come out of survival mode.

“Thank you kindly, Lady Irida…”, Ingo said as he dusted sand off his uniform. “How is it that you found us, anyway?”

“You’re never late to ANYTHING. I knew something had to be up. And, of course, I could hear your brother screaming from a mile away.”

Emmet nervously scratched the back of his neck. “Must have been loud, then…”

With a moment to think clearly finally, he realized this whole situation wouldn’t have happened if he hadn’t said those three little words. Both the world of the living and the world of the dead were in danger now because of him. Ingo knew his brother well, and he could tell when Emmet was receding into his own head. He sat down next to his brother, reattached his arm, and put it around his brother.

“Emmet, this isn’t your fault.”

“It is.” Emmet couldn’t even bring himself to look at his brother. “Your lantern… it’s gone. And it’s my fault. I-I don’t even know what I was thinking, I… I felt like I had to. I was so stupid… I should just go home.”

“Emmet… wait, I hear something. Would you… would you sit still for a moment?”

That snapped Emmet out of it just a little bit. “Uh… sure? What are you-“

He froze when he felt Ingo’s bony fingers digging inside his ear. He reached deep inside Emmet’s ear canal and pulled out a small, chittering beetle. “Here it is. I had a feeling.”

“Would you look at that…” Irida chimed in.

“See, it’s not your fault at all, Emmet. You just didn’t notice a bug in your ear. It was probably compelling you to summon Beetlejuice. I didn’t know he got into the mind control business…”

Emmet was utterly stunned, and decently traumatized as well. He had a bug in him… a BUG in his EAR. An entire BEETLE. He would never be clean again, no matter how much he bathed… The beetle fluttered up into the air, neon green wings shimmering as it left a trail of clearly magical residue behind it.

“Hold on a moment… you said the lantern is gone? It’s tied to your very soul, is it not? Why can’t you simply… call it back to you?” Irida questioned.

“Believe me, Lady Irida, I’ve tried. But this is Beetlejuice we’re talking about. His power even rivals Charon’s, dare I say…”

“Oh, him? Back in my time, he was known as quite the fearsome yokai, known for granting wishes in exchange for releasing chaos into people’s houses. It seems like he hasn’t changed much in the 200 years since… and if there’s anything I know about him, it’s that he can’t be allowed to keep your lantern!”

“W-well, technically it’s Charon’s lantern, I’m simply-“

Emmet suddenly had another idea. “I am Emmet. I suspect that if we follow the bug, it could lead us back to Beetlejuice!”

Ingo didn’t seem to mind that his brother interrupted him. “Emmet, once again, you are a genius! And if he’s piloting my ghost train…” He shudders, imagining that horrid scene. “…we could hijack it before he crosses the Styx!”

Irida stepped forward. “If it’s a train you’re after, you’ll need my horse. Not to worry, spirit horses always find their way back to their pastures!”

She put two fingers in her mouth and let out a whistle at a frequency only spirit horses could hear. That kind of summoning technique took many years to master, but Irida made it look easy. The galloping of its hooves could be heard from far in the distance, and it phased through the wall and into the room at the command of its master.

“Hop on. We’re losing moonlight, as Adaman would say. I hate it when he says that…” Ingo and Emmet sat behind Irida on the ethereal steed, and together they set off to take the lantern back once and for all.

A ghostly mist billowed from the smokestack of the Ghost Train as it rapidly approached the River Styx. Beetlejuice, dressed in a black-and-white striped conductors uniform, drove the train straight through the city streets, cackling all the way as it phased in and out of houses. Irida, Ingo and Emmet followed the smoke on horseback, Irida frequently commanding the horse to go faster with a kick to the ribcage. Ingo knew they were fast approaching the Styx, and while he trusted Irida and her 200 years of experience, he feared there may be no hope. They began to catch up just as the train left the city, and the three could see the river drawing closer. Beetlejuice hit the gas while a clone of him shoveled bones into the fire.

“Ingo! Emmet! You’re going to have to jump!”

“JUMP?!?” Emmet yelped. “If we miss, I’ll drown in the Styx!”

“Brother, I’m afraid we have no better option…”

Emmet’s done much more daring things than this. At least, that’s what he kept repeating in his head to calm his nerves. Just as the Ghost Train began to cross the river, the twins leapt off the horse. Ingo grabbed hold of the back of the train, and managed to catch Emmet’s hand. He hoisted Emmet across just before his arm came out of its socket. Again, Emmet had to catch his breath. This was certainly a night he wouldn’t forget for a long time…

Ingo turned to his brother. “You sneak in and get this train to stop before it reaches the threshold. Don't worry, I’ve designed the controls to be pretty intuitive. I’ll keep him distracted and try to get the lantern out of his hands.”

“Y-you’re sure about this? …okay. Trains are what I know best, after all!” Emmet broke into the train and made his way to the front, while Ingo used the attached ladder to climb up to the roof. The rumbling and shaking of the train was like second nature to him, even in death.

“Beetlejuice! I know you can hear me, you foul thing. We’re going to settle this like men, not creatures of the night.”

Beetlejuice peeked up from a hatch at the front of the train. “Damn hobos, trying to dodge fares again- huh? It’s YOU?! I sent you all the way to Titan, how did- you know what? Nevermind.” He hopped up to join Ingo on the roof, brandishing the stolen lantern with a toothy, yellow grin. “You want your toy back so bad? Hahaha…”

His laugh grew from a gentle chuckle to a maniacal cackle, and his stature began to grow as well. The bones in his arms cracked and snapped as they began to curl into spirals. His conductor's hat transformed before Ingo’s eyes into a carousel of sorts, with all manner of beasts spinning around his head, and the lantern spinning along with them, dangling from a hook.

“COME AND GET IT!!”

Ingo couldn't do much in the way of damage without his lantern, which could turn into a scythe in a burst of otherworldly flame. All he could do was dodge Beetlejuice’s hammer-hands and hope Emmet could stop the train in time. Ingo tried to scale his attacker’s massive arms and reach for the lantern himself, but a single sweeping strike reduced him to a pile of flesh and bones. All the while, Beetlejuice couldn’t contain his sadistic laughter.

Suddenly, the wheels started to spark. Just as the light of the threshold between worlds was drawing closer, the train ground to a halt!

“WHAT’S THE HOLD UP?! KEEP SHOVELING! PULL EVERY LEVER YOU CAN!!”

“No can do, Mister Juice. None of this was in our arrangement. In fact, did we even discuss an arrangement in the first place? As far as I can tell, this is fraud.”

“HEY, NO WAY! YOU DON’T KNOW THE RULES OF THE AFTERLIFE, FLESHY!”

“But I know the rules of the subway. And criminals aren’t allowed on the train. Beetlejuice…”

“DON’T DO WHAT I THINK YOU’RE GONNA DO, KID.”

“Beetlejuice…”

“WHAT IS IT YOU WANT? MONEY, FAME, LOVE? COME ON, I’M DOUBLE-DYIN’ HERE!! PLEASE, DON’T-“

“Beetlejuice.”

And with that, the summoning spell was broken. Beetlejuice exploded into a cloud of confetti and Halloween candy like some sort of undead piñata, and the lantern fell right into Ingo’s armless hand. Emmet climbed up to help put his brother back together.

“Thank you, Emmet. Thank you very much. I should have never said anything about those advertisements in the first place…”

“Come on, don’t thank me. I had to fix my mistake. And nothing was going to stop me from helping my brother… even if he’s dead. ESPECIALLY when he’s dead.”

“…I suppose you’re right. We’ll have to make plans with Irida another night, then… if she forgives us for all the trouble.”

“Heh, you can say that again…” He looked towards the light streaming from the other side of the veil between worlds. “That's pretty bright. Must be close to morning, right?”

“Well, we’re already here.” Ingo stood up straight and tall, donning the professionalism of a conductor. “I suppose I should be taking you back now and beginning the day’s work. You deserve a nice, long shower, anyway.”

Emmet shivered. “I doubt I’ll ever feel clean again…”

The twins shared a heart laugh as the train slowly started up again. Emmet took his seat inside, but a feeling crept up his spine that he couldn’t shake. A feeling that he hadn’t seen the last of Beetlejuice…

[frances-baby-houseman]

Dear Prudence,

Three years ago, my best friend and I had a falling out. When she asked for my opinion on her new fiancé and their relationship, I expressed some concern as gently as I could. I said it was concerning to me that they had only known each other for three months, that I was her best friend and had never met him (he had no interest in meeting her friends), and that the only times she had spoken to me about him before announcing the engagement were to talk through fights they had where he took rather nasty stances against totally normal things (her having any other men’s phone numbers saved in her phone, etc). She told me that I had never supported any of her relationships, this one was much better than previous ones, and I obviously didn’t actually care for her. I told her that wasn’t true and it was actually that I loved her so much that I was willing to tell her things I could see that she didn’t want to hear.

About a week after that fight, she called me in the middle of the night from the bathroom of a party, and told me that she’s concerned about how often she’s been using different drugs since starting the relationship (I wasn’t aware of this; previously she had occasionally smoked pot and that was it). I found out where she was, picked her up and brought her back to my house. In the morning, she was already gone when I woke up. I tried to call or text her every day for two weeks after that, leaving her messages that I loved her and was there for her and ready to help her when she wanted it. She never answered or acknowledged anything. She also disappeared off all social media. I went to her apartment at the end of the two weeks and there was a “for rent” sign in the window with all her belongings cleared out. She had said she and her fiancé had found a new place and were going to be moving in together, but I didn’t know where it was.

To complicate things, this was about one month before my wedding, where she was a bridesmaid. She dropped out of all wedding-related conversations as well and didn’t come to the bridal shower. The night before the wedding, she called and asked if it would be okay for her to come still. I told her of course! I didn’t push her to talk about anything she didn’t want to and just made sure to deliver the message that I love and support her while she was there. Immediately after the ceremony, my husband and I were outside taking some photos and heard shouting from the front entrance of the hotel.

It was her fiancé, who was telling her that they needed to leave. She waved goodbye and got in the car. I smiled and lied to anyone that asked about her during the reception and said she had gotten a terrible migraine and unfortunately was home in bed, then cried in the shower at the end of the night, knowing that she was truly gone from my life after calling each other sisters for years. I sent her one more text saying I would always be there if she ever needed anything and to please reach out when she was ready to. I never heard anything.

Last week, my mother sent me a picture of the police blotter in the newspaper for her town (about two hours away from where I live), and asked if that was my friend in the mugshot picture. It was listed along with her first name and the previous fiancé’s last name. She had gotten arrested for drunk driving with her 2-year-old son in the car. My heart broke all over again. Without hearing from her/about her, I’d been able to convince myself she had left the bad relationship, gone back to complete that master’s degree program she wanted to, and was happy and healthy. This tells a different story. I know I did what I could for her, and she didn’t want to hear what I was saying or accept my help, but I feel so guilty. How do I get past this?

—Friend Break-Up

Dear Break-Up,

Do you have time this week to just sit down and cry about your friend? Seriously, put it on the calendar. Dedicate an hour to thinking about how much you miss her, how much you hate that she’s suffering, and how you wish things could be different for you two. Really mourn the friendship you could have had if she’d made different choices. Think about how much it broke your heart for her to leave your wedding. Worry about her and her 2-year-old.

You and I both know that guilt doesn’t make sense here. You were patient and accommodating and did all you could for her. And maybe feeling guilty is keeping you from experiencing the more appropriate feeling for this situation: Grief. If you give yourself a chance to experience that—not just in this one-hour appointment with yourself, but over weeks and months—might take your focus away from wondering what you could have done that would have saved her. The answer to that is, of course, nothing.

for @formerly-ujb

[mrs-sharp]

The Eyes of Graphorns

tw: mention of death, loss, pain, alcohol

I finally did it! I translated my first piece of fanfiction. Since English isn't my first language and I don't have much time, I had to use the help of ChatGPT, and it's still not perfect, but I hope it's good enough and you still like it. Please enjoy!

You can also find it on Wattpad and Ao3.

Pairing: Aesop Sharp x f! Adult mc

Summary: After the battle of Hogwarts against Ranrok and his followers was won, nothing is the same for Elaine Hopkins. Her mentor is dead, and she finds herself with a new responsibility as the guardian of the last repository. She finds support in Aesop Sharp, who escorts her after Fig's death and slowly gains her trust.

After her graduation, she disappears for seven years and eventually returns to Hogwarts, where after a long search and wait, she was finally reunited with her former potions professor. She and Sharp grow closer to each other, but soon, they discover that their destinies are interwined more deeply than expected.

-> Chapter 1 - The Battle of Hogwarts

-> Chapter 2 - Goodbyes

-> Chapter 3 - A Reunion

-> Chapter 4 - The Renegades

-> Chapter 5 - Elaine's Laughter

-> Chapter 6 - Elaine's Secret

-> Chapter 7 - Firewhisky and Despair

-> Chapter 8 - Intuition

-> Chapter 9 - The Prophecy

-> Chapter 10 - An Uncertain Night

-> Chapter 11 - A Lost Past

-> Chapter 12 - Dancing With Your Darkness

-> Chapter 13 - Haegel's Ham I

-> Chapter 14 - Haegel's Ham II

-> Chapter 15 - Night Thoughts

-> Chapter 16 - The Room of Requirement

You can find some facts about my mc below, but you will also find most of the stuff mentioned in my fic (but maybe it helps to remember things if you restart reading after a longer break).

Elaine Hopkins:

• born in Scarborough on 19/01/1875 (she doesn't know her birthplace)

• Wand: cedar wood, dragon heartstring, slightly springy, ten and three-quarter inches

• Patronus: Graphorn (surprise!)

• I believe in the headcanon that if she was an animagus, she would turn into a fox (as a child, she often wandered alone through fields and meadows, and sometimes foxes would follow her, but she was never afraid of them – it was more like they were looking out for her)

• she is a Ravenclaw

→ the sorting hat took a long time deciding whether to place her in Hufflepuff or Ravenclaw

→ she is not the typical bookworm; she learns more from practical experience, which is why she adapted well to Sharp's class from the start

→ Elaine is quiet but friendly and helpful and possesses a high degree of empathy (which is also her greatest weakness and often leads her to put the needs of others before her own)

→ although she is quiet and reserved, she is quick-witted and knows how to use sarcasm.

→ she is very good at drawing, kept all her drawings but has given it up for a reason she doesn't want to talk about

→ her favourite subjects were Care of Magical Creatures, Potions, and Defense Against the Dark Arts

→ although she is very popular, she is more of a loner; her best friend is Poppy Sweeting, as they share a passion for magical creatures

→ because she is very reserved and quiet, she mastered non-verbal spells very early on

→ she loves nature, especially the sea, where she enjoys watching Graphorns along the coast

• Elaine Hopkins is not her real name; she grew up in an orphanage where she simply appeared one day; she was 5 years old at the time

→ she didn't know who she was or where she came from, so one of her older „sisters" gave her the name

→ said older sister (Katherine Davies, or Kath for short) soon became a friend and role model for her, as she took care of the younger children; Kath liked Elaine because she was a quiet and intelligent child

→ as Elaine got older, Kath disappeared one day, and from then on Elaine took over her role, teaching the other children, among other things, how to read

→ Elaine was passed from one master to another to bring in some money for the orphanage; if a supervisor tried to discipline her, an unknown force often seemed to protect her, which is why she usually didn't stay in one place for too long

• Fig was the closest thing to a father for her, so after his death, she outwardly tries to carry on her daily life normally, but inwardly withdraws even more

• after graduation

→ even during her school days, Elaine sensed that Sharp was suffering not only from his injury but also from the events related to it

→ she decides to go on journeys to research Graphorns and find a cure for Sharp

→ after her unsuccessful search, she began training as an Auror in 1894

→ works as an Auror until 1900

→ she reopens the Scarborough case and uncovers a black market for goblin artefacts

• After an injury, she takes over the position for Defense Against the Dark Arts and returns to Hogwarts (the parallels to Sharp's story are no coincidence 🙃)

• she owns a small cottage on the Eastern edge of Cragcroft from which you can see the sea and where she finds some peace

[mcflymemes]

CSI: CRIME SCENE INVESTIGATION PROMPTS *  assorted dialogue from the television show, season 2

i don't want to disappoint you, but this is not the first time i've had a gun pointed at me.

it's easier to get a master's degree than a parking spot on campus.

yeah, i know. check the trunk.

you say that like it means something.

missed me that much, huh?

i lost someone once.

when the reality of their actions set in, they usually turn to religion.

you're too hard on yourself.

i'm like a sponge. i just absorb information.

i gave you your career.

i got a coupon.

who's gonna believe a guy like me?

so that leaves you.

ready, honey?

it sounds like you're making this personal.

god knows you haven't let me touch you in three years.

you're very good. you could work for me.

you were the kind that guys fall all over themselves trying to impress.

i thought that was my line.

you don't believe me?

i could have been a rock star.

i've always wanted to go there.

i don't know the basis of your allegations.

instead, i want you.

i can't believe you're doing this to me.

we told them what happened.

i just realized that you and i have a very healthy relationship.

i've never told anyone before.

no one's ever asked me that before.

you don't know what you're talking about.

you smell like death.

someone will be with you shortly.

i love this table.

you're too smart for that.

you're supposed to say something revealing back to me.

truth brings closure.

rich people don't go to jail.

i don't believe in rules that tell me how i should live.

they're your best feature.

you have to be able to walk away at any time.

no criminal charges were filed.

did you feel sick?

how many meals have we shared together?

kind of sounds like you.

i'll give you a lift.

sex is physical. is that a sport?

i know you're upset.

people don't vanish.

were there any disturbances last night?

you showered.

if there's one thing you learn on this job is that human beings are capable of anything.

i knew you were coming back today, so i dressed up.

you did this to yourself.

how's your new toy working out?

they were kinda cool back in the day.

how can you tell just by looking at it?

they're still dead.

you sucked at team sports, huh.

i notice you have no photos of your family in your office.

it doesn't make you any less guilty.

you ever been to therapy?

look, i was just doing my job.

take a guess.

our job is to think.

this is the thanks i get?

i just got the results.

you were okay sharing your problems with a complete stranger?

that's the funny thing about choices. once you make them, you have to go live with them.

i know what they look like.

this is going to take forever.

i'm playing cards.

did you enjoy being in the field?

sometimes i hate this job.

i always thought you kept your porn in there.

why did you need the expensive one in the first place?

you see my face? this is me almost believing you.

what does that look like?

wherever you live is your temple, if you treat it like one.

what's going on with you?

it's just unusual to see you dressed like that.

i enjoyed it fine.

you got anything to add?

can you think of a better time?

where have you been?

i don't think it's worth it.

i can't be everywhere, and they've banned human cloning.

you're flying solo, cutting me out. what's going on?

i always knew there was something weird about you.

give me a mint.

the past is in the past.

other than that i really don't care.

you can give a man a lot of things. you can give him your time, your money, even your heart. but the one thing you can never ever let go of is your power.

you still smell.

i wouldn't expect anything less.

since when are you interested in beauty?

why are you looking at me?

someone gonna cover me?

whoever this guy is, he's a lousy shot.

they're looking for me, you know.

[writtingsomestuff]

hi love could you maybe write something with jamal musiala x girlfriend reader where she's 2 years older than him and has older male Friends and jamal sees a instagram Story of reader and them at a Club he's so jelous and calls her so many times and comes to take her home with him💃❤

Hello! I wrote the best I could. Hope you enjoy it xx

Cinderella and Prince Charming

Jamal Musiala x fem!reader Warnings: None, I think

He thought that with time he would understand it, accept it and move on, but he did not. You were two years older than him, it was not a lot, to be honest, but he knew that you were more mature and had your ideas ordered in life, not like him. You just finished a degree and planned to study a master on September; You even sent a CV to work in a company specialized on your career, currently waiting for an answer. However, he was a kid in front of the world, even in front of his teammates, but could he blame them? Not really. He played football, yes, and he was living his dream, but football, as F1, or basketball and any sport, the day of tomorrow was uncertain; one day you are at the top of the world, and the next, no one knew about you any more. That was his biggest insecurity, that you were around people similar to you, ordered, mature and responsible, and that if you ever left him for one of your old friends, it could be justified.

He was leaving the locker room, after a tough session with his club, when he heard the notification sound from his phone. The message he didn't want to read appeared before his eyes, “Sorryyy! Tonight I’m going to the club with my uni friends. What about tomorrow evening? Ily x” he asked you to meet after a long time apart from each other; he was travelling and playing the last matches of the Bundesliga, while you were finishing the last exams of the degree, however, you had another plans and he was jealous. Yes, jealous. Not so much about you going to club, that was the least of the matters, he also went to clubs, but jealous of all these college friends, who shared their life ideas with you, hobbies and could actually understand you when you speak about your subjects and exams, something that Jamal could not.

After some hours, he had dinner, played some video games and even started a novel that you left the last time you stayed. He was waiting for a last message from you that could assure him that you were at home, fine and safe. To “kill time”, he entered Instagram, a place where you could spend hours that felt like minutes, just like TikTok or Twitter. He made a mistake; the first user that appeared was yours, he opened the video and there was a video you “re-uploaded”: you were there with your, he would say: "amazing, black dress," and you were smiling next to Robert, one of those uni friends. Robert was tall and had black hair that highlighted his green eyes – he was the one who Jamal hated the most, to be honest. Both of you were laughing out loud about something Mary, at the other said, told you. "That Robert” as he called him sometimes, had his arm around your shoulders, while you drunk from your glass.

It was 2 AM, and he started to assume that he would have to drink three cups of coffee before going to the training session, a heart attack was better than an angry Tuchel. He started to worry as you were never this late from clubbing; you enjoyed it, but you would quickly get out as the environment, the strong smell of alcohol and specially your heels would stress you and send you home in three hours. Jamal started calling you, no answer received.

After 17? 18? or 20? – he lost the counting – calls, he went to his bedroom to get changed. He knew which club you frequented, since he picked you up more than once. On his way, he prayed to God that you would be there, and most importantly, that you would be fine.

He entered the club; the ambient was anxious to him, and he understood why he enjoyed these places only when he was wasted and laughing at any of Müller’s jokes. He quickly localized you and your friends, and he felt relieved when Robert was not here, or that Robert. He called your name and your friends to catch all the group’s attention.

“Jamal!” You shouted as you saw his familiar figure walking towards you, “I am so glad you are here” you hugged him, or rather threw yourself on him

“Oh Lord!” He quickly caught you, “Are you drunk?” A silly question, really, your face said more than enough

“Only a bit” You let out a small laugh

“Alright, now” He held you better, trying to put your arms on his waist and his on your shoulders, but you weren’t helping “y/n please help me, so we can go out, okay?” He pleaded, you nodded, but you didn’t help.

Both of you left that and ambient and you finally smiled when you felt the cool air outside

“You’re my príncipe” You smiled at him

“Príncipe?” He tried to repeat with a Spanish accent

“Maya said it means prince, so you are my prince because you came and saved me from that place”

“Why didn’t you answer? I called you a hundred times” He asked you as you he made your way towards the car

“You did?” You asked confused and took your phone from your purse, “Let me see… oh! It doesn’t work Jamal” You gave him your phone as you pouted

“I think it just doesn’t have battery” He gave you the phone back and smiled as he saw the car closer, but then he heard you sobbing “No y/n! Why are you crying, what happened?”

“My heels are killing me, I might bleed and lose a lot of blood” You let out as he opened the car’s door

“But don’t cry, look we’re here already” He helped you to sit down, “now we remove this heels, and we go home to rest, alright?” He cleaned your tears and left a small kiss in your check, before kneeling in front of you to take off those heels.

“I am Cinderella” You said as he gave you small smile

“I would be your Prince Charming any day”

Once at home, he gave an aspirin and a big glass of water, he changed your clothes to a comfortable big shirt of his that, and a Bayern sweatpants, he may appear murdered in the morning because you were a Borussia Dortmund fan, but he didn’t have anything else.

For Jamal, it was enough that you would spend the night between his arms.

Not Musiala scoring that last minute gol! (imagine the scenario in this context) Not a Bundesliga fan but my heart breaks for Reus.

About F1: Praying for Alonso's 33 and finally!! they are in my city, Sainz and Fernando are home, looking forward for a beautiful race

I hope you guys enjoyed it x. Any comments about my writing are welcome. Thanks for reading! and, btw I couldn't think about a better title.

[schismusic]

Æon Flux and the end of all things

I don't remember the first time I heard of Æon Flux but I sure as hell remember the first time I watched it, and it wasn't too long ago which would technically not warrant the level of obsession I have for that shit, but here we are anyway.

I was knocked the fuck out on painkillers, two of my wisdom teeth freshly removed, not even remotely worried about the exam that I had coming up in like two days from then. So I was barely moving away from my swivel chair and sleeping on a whole ass armored pillow to prevent from tossing and turning and shit felt so surreal to me. It was like the eating chair from the last Cronenberg movie. So I delved into Æon Flux essentially blind and bingewatched the shit out of it. Twice. Ended up downloading the whole thing from some sketchy ass 1080p remastered torrent, rewatched it again, and spread it around personally in a more cauterized Google Drive folder (so if you guys got a nasty ass virtual STD from it, my bad I guess), not even a month after watching the series. Shit was fucked, in short, and every rewatch just fueled this obsession even further.

(image taken from Episode 1, Season 1)

One thing about me: when I obsess over stuff I want to draw something at the very least inspired by it. Happens to me a lot with Autechre, who are actually one of maybe three bands I would not hesitate to call my favourite based on an absolutely objective principle which is absolutely not up for discussion and which might be the object of a future post at this point. But the point is fucking Æon Flux is essentially impossible to replicate because Peter Chung's character designs are so recognizable that you start seeing them in literally every other movie that came out in the late '90s/early 2000s - and for reference, Æon Flux was brought to an end in 1995. Consequently, all attempts at drawing Æon Flux-inspired stuff end up either feeling very derivative or looking like fucking trash. Artistry is a weird thing because sometimes it inspires other people, other times it just inspires man-slaughtering rage.

Somewhat many of my friends are or have at one point tried to be accomplished visual artists. Some have made it to professional/teaching level, some others have an art school diploma or degree - and I'll be using this space to shout out @coto-letta aka V., who has recently rejoined Tumblr after years of absence. We met on here, when her handle was much different, and I mistook her for an ex of mine (whom, surprisingly, we are still on relatively good - if quiet - terms with) so I slid into her DMs as you do, and she was like "yeah actually I have no clue who the fuck you are I just think your blog is neat and dropped a follow" which was quite a fundamental moment in understanding that while my life was written like a dodgy soap-opera, that didn't mean I was the centre of the entire world. Anyway, the reason I'm shouting her out is because sometimes something deeper and older than you remember has a way of finding you again when you least expect it and that's what happened when in January 2023 (after V. had left Tumblr for at that point about two years and we had exchanged Instagram accounts) I somehow ended up on her Insta and found out she had been tagged in a picture taken somewhere that looked suspiciously like my university's conference hall and I could not fucking believe she was in my city. I slid into her DMs again, as you do, and found out that no, that wasn't my uni's aula magna, but yes, she was in fact relocating in my city for her master's. So we met up after maybe seven years of on-and-off Internet friendship. It's a neat story, sure, but how the fuck do we tie it into Æon Flux?

(image taken from Episode 3, Season 2: Leisure)

Not trying to be overly dramatic here, but Æon Flux to me is just about a condensation of everything that "art" can mean. Not just visual flare or style, not just deep meaning or interesting ways of putting across one or more questions and never a definitive answer to any of them (more often than not, it's sets of possible answers - usually two, neither of which ends up covering the whole array of possibilities, both of which actually leave a lot to be desired in a number of different ways), not just this insane fucking music that toys with everything you expect from animation courtesy of Drew Neumann who may just rank as one of the best soundtrack artists ever in virtue of this single work. It's the whole package. You would think it'd work taken in pieces, and it does, no objection to that: but it works even better as a whole package. If the moral questioning (and the philosophical musings of season 3, which is unjustly underrated because "it's too normal" by hipster wannabe critic dilettantes who like to think that they could do better than that. Everybody else on the other hand is generally able to stop pull their head out their own ass and recognize, at the very least, the excellent craftsmanship and talent that went into the ten long episodes) wasn't accompanied by the weird fetishistic sex it'd be somewhat less impactful, almost like a cauterized Tenshi no tamago made into a series for mainstream late-night TV audiences. The twist was that MTV's executives, at the time, "didn't understand [the double entendres], they didn't even notice them. So, we were okay", in producer Japhet Asher's own words in the short documentary Investigation: The History of Æon Flux. The network was, in fact, trying to break into the mainstream - they simply couldn't keep their creatives at bay. No wonder they turned to Jersey Shore as they went along.

(image taken from Episode 5, Season 3: The Demiurge)

Even just the main characters' purported edginess, clearly something "of its time", is never played entirely straight. Both leads are way too complex, and very clearly presented as such, to be just summed up by "Æon Flux is an anarchist/Trevor Goodchild is a dictator". Both of which are true, by the way, they're just one part of a full picture. Even within the context of its necessary linearity - this is still an animated short and as such moves only in one direction, even though a number of episodes (specifically Mirror and Chronophasia) deliberately fuck with the viewer's perception of times on varying degrees of diegesis and extradiegesis - the series could be perceived as, indeed, a sandbox: consequently, the viewer could set sail and explore it. This is further encouraged by the series's active weirdness to whoever would want to try and make sense of the world's story. There is no history, there is just the story at hand: an eternal present which you can't understand ("un eterno presente che capire non sai": Ferretti knew his shit, regardless of how it went after CCCP) and which Æon and Trevor are not interested in even trying to contextualize. Not a surprise then that they'd be into each other: their closeness in body and heart doesn't exist at the mind's level, and the whole thing falls apart miserably every time it looks like they could be finally let their weapons down. But as Æon completely understands, and as Trevor seems to actively try to ignore, the fight is already the whole point: star-cross'd as they may be, the entire act of playfully hunting each other for sport both in the bedroom and on the battlefield is what Trevor Goodchild and Æon Flux thrive on. Trevor wants stability but an Æon who doesn't fight back is simply not Æon; Æon does not want the stability, but she definitely likes Trevor to an extent and finds more in common with him that she would probably be willing to admit (I would like to thank Tumblr user @brw on thons very good analysis of the episode A Last Time for Everything, which heavily inspired this section of the post!). In short: if Trevor seems to embody Pier Paolo Pasolini's idea that "there is nothing more anarchistic than power" ("non c'è nulla di più anarchico del potere") then Æon flips the statement on its head: "there is nothing more powerful than anarchism". That is, of course, until we once again confront my signature ad-hoc elephant in the room that this statement just summoned.

(Image taken from Episode 1, Season 1)

No spoilers intended, but if you so much as google the name of the series you will easily find out that Æon Flux dies a whole lot throughout the series*. Season 1 and all the shorts from season 2 end with her dying ungrateful deaths and a couple of the long episodes leave much to be desired in the way of positive closure, with Ether Drift Theory representing a peak in bleakness for season 3. Most of the shorts where Æon dies imply that either absolutely nothing changes in the world around when she's lost or that Trevor Goodchild literally just succeeds in all of his goals (see Season 1's finale), and one could make a case that even if she did carry her missions through there would be absolutely nothing to show for it: somebody goes up the chain of power, everything is restored, there is one more tyrant to murder. Not to be that one guy who quotes Nietzsche about everything, but the eternal recurrence of the same is the first thing that comes to mind when watching Æon Flux, especially exemplified and even literalized by the episode War, possibly the best of the short ones: it's the same fucking story four times over a five-minute run time and nothing ever gets better for anyone. The body count in the episode is unquantifiably large - every one of the fallen a potential new Æon Flux or Trevor Goodchild. But this, in a way, implies that Æon keeps being reborn, and one could argue that the act of capturing a fly with her venus-fly-trap eye could simply be her coming back to life, as it were; stopping the most evident sign of decay, turning her eyes outward yet again, to face the eternal return of the same again and again and again…

(Image taken from Episode 8, Season 3: Ether Drift Theory)

You can find Æon Flux for free on the Internet Archive.

*as I was discussing the final draft of this post with my friend @oldshittydog we had a pretty interesting discussion which I thought should be added here for an even clearer, fuller picture:

[jabbage]

What are the top 5 most middle class things that have ever happened to you?

Ooooooh good question... now I'm going to do the most British thing ever and preface it with a short essay providing half my life story, out of a sense of denial.

Both sides of my family are staunchly working class, as far back as I can find records. They were farm labourers and dock workers and hopped in and out of workhouses. My mum worked housekeeping and cleaning jobs, and my Dad managed to snag a white collar job in a factory out of school (because he's really clever).

But then two complications -

My Dad became a clergyman. This meant that we got to live in nice houses owned by the church he worked for, sometimes in quite affluent areas. We didn't have much money, but still.

2. I managed to get into Oxford University with a gazillion bursaries tied to my parent's low income. I then used the bursary money to fund doing a master's degree, and now I work in academia.

So, am I middle class? I'm begrudgingly realising that I might be? Except if I am I feel like middle class people shouldn't be constantly worrying that their now-retired parents can't afford to switch the heating on, or whether they'll ever live in their own home. And it's alienated me from my extended family, who have jumped to the conclusion that I think I'm better than them.

Anyway, the top 5 most middle class things that have ever happened to me.

One

Last year I got invited to an anniversary meal at my Oxford college, called a gaudy. I nearly didn't go because my time at uni was not very happy and I don't remember some of my contemporaries fondly, but then I figured that if I go, next time I read Dorthy L Sayers excellent book "Gaudy Night," I will have better brain-pictures. So, the setting, for your own brain-pictures:

Latin grace was sung before the meal, which comprised of salmon confit, followed by venison, followed by black forest gateau, followed by fruit and chocolates and port.

I was sat next to a nice middle aged man with an OBE. When he asked me "So, what do you do?" I decided not to say the job which *actually* pays my bills, but to reply with my evening job: that I make comics. I felt like this was a fun thing to say in a room full of people who Work In The City etc etc.

Except it turned out that he runs one of the UK's biggest comic arts festivals. He offered me free tickets. He offered to put me in touch with publishers. He offered to introduce me to significant people.

And I was like.... oh. Is this how it happens? Like, you're in an Oxford college and you just RUN INTO a posh bloke who Knows People and that's how you finally get a book deal???

Anyway I went to the festival. They had a panel on a yacht. And talked to people, or rather had people talk over me. So many times they'd ask me a question, and then interrupt before I'd given my answer. And I dislike schmoozing SO MUCH.

So uh, yeah, no book deal ;D YET

Two

One time I was wearing my college scarf while I was walking around Durham, and I ended up meeting a very cute elderly couple who went to the same college forty-five years earlier (well, the husband did, the wife wouldn't have been allowed.) They invited my to a dinner party at their house, which turned out to be a very cute little town-house by the river with five stories.

At the time I was doing my Master's degree, and they became kind of surrogate parents who I could call in on for a free hot meal and good conversation. But it was entirely sparked by "going to the same college at Oxford" which is very ew.

Three

Idk there was just this one time I was coming home on the train from having seen the Royal Shakespeare Company's latest production of Much Ado About Nothing and I stopped off somewhere to get sushi and I spent the whole time staring at a wall thinking "What have I become?"

Getting tickets to the ballet from a colleague slots into this catagory, I think.

Four

One time I was asked to open a village fete because the local lady of the manor couldn't make it.

Why me? Apparently "local clergyman's daughter" and "went to Oxford" and "draws silly pictures sometimes" was enough to make me a local celebrity.

I got to give a little speech and judge some cakes and everything.

Five

One time I got invited to a dinner party at CS Lewis' house, the Kilns, and I met his lovely secretary Walter Hooper. I remember being shown around and having a deep impulse to check the backs of all the wardrobes.

When I first went in it was through a door that led straight into his bedroom, and I was told that I could take my coat off and just toss it on the bed. No sooner had I done so than my guide mused, "CS Lewis died in that bed."

So I guess I own a coat that has been on the bed where CS Lewis died, is that middle class?!! Idk

[actualrealvampire]

Ah, I also realize I have never mentioned my Degrees on this page! I have had quite a long time to devote myself to the study of various topics, and as such I have over the last 2 centuries acquired 5 masters degrees. Technically 7, but those additional 2 were repeating the same degree 50 years later, and then another 50 years after that, as so much had changed in that time!

I hold a masters in Biology, Zoology, Anthropology, Fine Arts, and Music.

I have three degrees in Biology, as, like I mentioned, I got a degree in 1889, once more in 1939, and then in 1989. I’m surely out of date once again. Of course, it started as simply a “masters of human science” and was later renamed biology, but the advancements continued to fascinate me, as with zoology and anthropology, much more is discovered each and every year. Admittedly I’m a fair bit out of date academically speaking, but attending classes at a time suitable for me is no longer an easy or inexpensive hobby, and I detest the concept of using a computer for education in areas I believe should be hands on. But I do my best to keep up! My zoology degree I got in 1967, luckily the animals that I studied haven’t gotten around to evolving yet! But many new species of them have been discovered since then. As for fine arts, the classics are called such because they are timeless. Oh, and my music degree, while terribly old now, is in the Violin, but I am able to play the violin, viola, fiddle, harp, and piano. I never did learn the bagpipes, and as breathing isn’t exactly my strong suit I don’t think I will.

If you’ve read this, thank you for listening to my ramblings!