#its about the Medium Blending (and the parts where it REALLY doesn’t)

[infini-tree]

i am once again thinking about captain and that Thing i do in art/fics where Panels Are A Constraint (mostly a barrier, on occasion a unit of time, etc.)

[akkivee]

The Yamada Family's Special Curry: Hypmic Curry Drama Track TL

Jiro: A curry battle huh…? They sure came up with a weird idea this time around…

Ichiro: I also think it’s a strange concept, but I still want to prove we’re the best. Will you two help me out?

Jiro & Saburo: Of course!!

Ichiro: Glad to hear it!

Saburo: We’re used to making curry so I think we should get started immediately!

Ichiro: Ah, about that… *places down a plate* I actually went ahead and made a prototype curry!

Saburo: As expected, Ichi-nii, you prepared something beforehand!

Ichiro: If we’re going to win over everyone, we can’t just use our usual curry. I was hoping you guys could help me perfect the ultimate curry!

Saburo: Then we’ll try the prototype so we can start ameliorating any flaws it may have!!

Jiro: A-Ameli…?? I don’t get what he just said but you can leave its flavour to me!!

Ichiro: Thanks, you two! Then, why don’t you go ahead and give it a taste?

Jiro & Saburo: Absolutely! *eats*

Jiro & Saburo: Mmm??

Jiro: This isn’t the flavour of our usual curry…! Did he really forget the most important part…??

Saburo: It’s greasy and tastes terrible…! I don’t want to say something Ichi-nii made is unpleasant but…!!

Ichiro: So how is it??

Jiro: I-I���ve never had anything like it before…

Saburo: W-what did you put in it?

Ichiro: *starts bringing out ingredients* So for the roux, I decided not to use anything you can buy from the store and made a completely original spice blend! I also used domestic A5 graded black beef and fatty mackerel!

Jiro: Yeah…?

Saburo: I see…

*phone rings*

Ichiro: Sorry, I gotta take this, it’s a work call. …Hello, how may I help you?

Jiro: *downs a glass of water* Hey Saburo, what did Nii-chan do to this curry??

Saburo: How am I supposed to know?? I can only assume he was so focused on beating the competition, failed to give it any rational thought.

Jiro: Damn it…! Even though Nii-chan’s usual curry is already the most delicious…!

Saburo: My thoughts exactly! He didn’t need to use these fancy ingredients, Ichi-nii’s curry is already exquisite…!

Jiro: We gotta bring Nii-chan back to his senses!

Saburo: As loathe as I am to work hand in hand with incompetence, there’s no other way…!

Ichiro: Sorry, guys, I’m back! So, what should I add to improve the curry?

Jiro & Saburo: *nods at each other*

Jiro: Aniki, I’ll give it to you straight. No matter what you add, this ain’t gonna be our curry!

Ichiro: What??

Jiro: I get where you’re coming from, but you shouldered this by yourself without even talking to us… Isn’t that messed up?

Saburo: I feel similarly to Jiro. If we’re going up against the other divisions, shouldn’t our bonds as brothers shine through?

Ichiro: Our bonds as brothers…?

Jiro & Saburo: And so, we should use our usual curry!

Ichiro: But, if we use our usual curry, wouldn’t you be able to tell the roux uses store bought curry and ingredients that were on sale? If we want to beat the others, then—

Jiro: But that’s what makes it our curry!

Saburo: Just like with our rap as the Buster Bros!!!, there wouldn’t be any point to winning if it’s not who we are!

Ichiro: You guys… *eats the curry* …Yeah, you’re right, this isn’t our curry. I understand what you mean!

Jiro & Saburo: …!!

Ichiro: Okay, let’s head out to the store to buy the stuff we usually use in our curry!

Jiro: Yeah! Once we hit up the shopping district, I’ll find the best bargain after a few rounds around the shops!

Saburo: According to my research, the type of roux that’s favoured across multiple age generations would be one that’s a bit sweet and hits the medium range in spiciness!

Ichiro: Thanks! I’m counting on you guys!

Saburo: Oh, there’s one more thing…

Jiro: What? We’re about to head out.

Saburo: No, it’s just, since we’re going to have to sell it, doesn’t that mean we need to come up with a name for our curry? I think the usual naming conventions revolve around the main ingredients used in the product.

Jiro: We got vegetables, fish, meat… If we go off of that, we’ve just got a variety curry.

Ichiro: We don’t even have to worry about that! No matter the ingredients, this is the “Yamada Family’s Special Curry”! And with it, the three of us will beat all the rest!!

[c-rowlesdraws]

final very superficial appraisal of the live action one piece show:

👍:

-the set design was wonderful and had a cool sense of unreality to it (as in, the environments feel like built sets and it’s part of the fun), it was colorful and theatrical and captured the manga’s blend of piratey genre aesthetics (wooden boards, sailing ships, rolled-up old maps) and “modern” elements like t-shirts and neon signs in a really pleasing way

-the show clicks to the top of the first rollercoaster hill at the end of episode 3 and then goes at the start of ep 4 and it’s just one breathless ride to the finish. I didn’t want the show to end. I do not care about one piece and started watching kind of for the bit but now I’ll actually be really upset if it doesn’t get a second season. That’s how good the second half of this show is.

-I love how all of the characters with colorful hair have clearly-dyed hair where their roots are showing (as opposed to wigs), and in flashbacks to a few of them as children the child actors have the exact same sort of imperfect dye job. It’s wonderful. It adds to the theatrical energy of everything, like “we know you know this is artificial, but we trust you to suspend your disbelief and enjoy this fiction with us”.

-with very few exceptions, all of the actors’ performances are great. They are all cool and fun to watch and there are lots of sweet and funny and emotional moments that work because the writing is sincere. Nobody rolls their eyes for the audience’s benefit at how weeeeird their world is— they live here! I love that.

-the trap beat they did for Arlong’s theme music rules

-this story with its global ocean and seafaring/island-based societies is kind of like “what if Waterworld was like a big colorful carnival” and I love that

-the Snail Phones 🐌

Things I liked less below the cut - 👎:

-Zoro’s backstory bff being depressed because “a girl can beat a boy, but no woman can beat a man [in a swordfight]” was a disappointing line to hear two characters just… play straight in a world that up to that point had seemed pretty non-sexist? But this girl sincerely believes that, and this boy doesn’t push back at all. In this world of self-dismembering clowns and people with axes for arms, you’re telling me that there are no champion swordswomen for little kids to admire? Not one?? From skimming the wiki, it seems like in the manga Kuina’s views are influenced by her sexiest dad, but the show doesn’t include that context.

-Kuina dying offscreen in “an accident” was the only tragic thing in the show that didn’t land for me. It’s just so blatant and funny. You’ve got to get rid of her so she can motivate Zoro, because she’s dead in the manga and that’s how you motivate male main characters, with dead women, but… how? Doesn’t matter! There’s been an accident. Typical backstory girl bff behavior. Call that Fridge To Terabithia.

-Iñaki’s energy as Luffy didn’t always work for me. Some character behavior works in manga and anime, but seems awkward and jarring in real life. It’s very difficult to pull off wild limb-flailing anime exuberance in live-action— live-action Cowboy Bebop’s glimpse of Ed comes to mind. But also, I never really liked Luffy in the parts of the manga I read, either, so maybe I’m just not the target audience for a Luffy in any medium. Iñaki seems like a friendly and chill dude and he certainly gave this role 100%— and also Oda himself loved him for the role, so that says a lot.

-the whole thing with Arlong and his Fishman crew where they’re part of an oppressed and formerly-enslaved minority, so of course they have beef with humans (“but slavery’s been abolished!” shouts a human character), but they’re taking things too far and not just fighting for equality, but domination, which includes extorting, killing, and enslaving humans, starting with this poor little girl here. And since this group are clearly evil and have these big evil plans, it’s cool and great actually for the heroes, who are all humans/members of the majority, to kick their asses and kill a bunch of them. Like… I get there’s a whole thing here with Arlong being twisted by hatred into the very thing he says hates, and maybe we’ll meet more Fishmen later in the story who are just people and not bloodthirsty evildoers, but it’s not a great fictional look?

It takes me back to hbomberguy’s critique of RWBY’s portrayal of the Faunus, and the problems with making your bad guys out of an oppressed ethnic group who, the story says, might have a point, if they went about things peacefully, but are just taking things too far with this domestic terrorism stuff. The Faunus and Arlong should really be writing to their congresspeople instead!

[kaithonks]

So I’ve had some Thoughts about Christopher Chaos and Designs

In preparation for the new Cassandra Cain Batgirl run, I decided to try The Oddly Pedestrian life of Christopher Chaos, since Tate Brombal is writing both. I honestly didn’t do too much looking before reading this, so I wasn’t expecting a Queer story, but I was very pleasantly surprised. My instinct is to say that the Christopher being gay and Jordi being a trans man aren’t really the focus of the story, but they are a key detail that gives a clue to on the story benign a metaphor for Queerness and finding queer communities. And while this part is important, there is something I think that holds a little more value in that regard, and that’s Miquel Muerto’s colors.

The thing about a comic is that while people talk about the writers, the artist tend to get less focus. Which is a shame because a comic is a visual medium. There is even less attention on letterist and colorist, and those are still key jobs in the comic. Even if the comic is in black and white, that color choice is still essential and has a factor into the story. In Christopher’s case, he has bright colors. And the gut reaction might be “Oh look who’s the anime protagonist”  it’s more then that here. Yes, Christopher's bright colors make him stand out, but Him standing out isn’t what he wants. Early one he says he wants to be normal but feels like a monster and these points are communicated through his design and even in his colors. Even in his “blending in” design, he sticks out. I’m sure someone with more knowledge on what colors mean could draw more conclusion here, but I don’t have the knowledge, I just know that Christopher is distinctive. He pops in every panel, emphasizing his differences, even when he is with other “monsters” Viv and Jordi both stand out like Christopher but to a less extent. Which they can blend in better. And In Jordi’s case and his recent top surgery he’s actively passing as a male and which his focus on a single color he's passing more as “human”. I think with the design choice to focus on having the character be so bright really helps focus on the story on its narrative about being other and feeling isolated, and it isolated the character in a visual sense.

What also add to this effect is the Helwing’s blanked white, specially as a metaphor for Heteronormativity. It feels a little on the nose to me having the story on a very basic visual level being about emptiness and white verse bright color, but it works and is fun to look at. Also, while on the Helwings I can't help pt point out Elias’s pick for red. Specially as he is relieved to be a demon, so again you get that isolation with color. 

There is also a point with Adam being very mundane in his browns. He and Hayden both have an interesting point, where design wise they are the most monstrous. Adam being literally stitched together and Hayden being well a werewolf, but they both able to blend in better with their more subdued colors. This doesn’t end up good for Hayden, but it doesn’t work out well for Adam either, as his method of running away from everything isn’t working out. But all of this leads to a story that is about Pride, the value of queer community and reaching out and protecting that community. 

So yeah, Christopher Chaos's queer theming is at its core. It’s not going in my favorite of comics. I think it moves a little fast and I wish we had more time with just Christopher. Though I will pick up volume 2 when it comes out next year, and I’ll be trying the Halloween special, so some of this might get washed away as I keep reading. It’s still something I enjoyed, horror has a long history of queer and minority coding and this is actually a nice little spin on those concepts to be a bit more whimsical and hopeful. 

[thedawningofthehour]

6, 14, 17, 18, and 29 for the fic writer asks (or however many of those you want to answer!! I know thats a lot sorry lol)

6. Are there any fics from others you reread all the time?

@spectralsleuth's Little Scraps of Wisdom. It's the perfect blend of just fluffy enough to not require tons of mental energy, but also serious and angsty enough to keep my attention. Also the format makes it really easy to pick a section and just dip in-perfect for my ADHD ass.

14. If you could see one of your fics adapted into a visual medium, such as comic or film, which fan fic would you pick?

Doth, at least parts of it. The whole thing wouldn't translate well to visual media-there's tons of introspection, conversations that wouldn't be all that interesting visually. (at least not animated-you don't really get Cersei Lannister-esque performances from animated characters) Stuff like the actions scenes, big scenes with multiple people speaking, those would probably translate the best.

My Dishonored fic, god no. It's video game media and it's very obvious that that's the source material. It would be incredibly boring if you weren't in Daud's head the whole time.

17. What’s something you’ve learned about while doing research for a fic?

Uhh. Like. So much stuff?

For doth, it's been insanely broad. On any given day, my writing window might be filled with Wikipedia pages on scientific topics, cultural, history, law. Right now I have a bunch of pages open about military tactics and technology, a Google Maps of NYC, and then some articles on nobility and royal titles.

For The Red Queen, I had to learn a lot of architecture terms when writing Daud running around doing backflips off rooftops. I don't even think half of them even made it into the text, but I had to know what he was perched on top of like a daddy seagull. I also did a whole dive into the Black Death for that one. Oh, if you want an interesting fact, did you know the plague was actually carried by fleas and not rats like many assumed? That's partially why it was so bad in cities. Poland actually had a much lower death toll than the rest of Europe in part because of its high Jewish population (mostly refugees because many cities blamed them for the plague-because of fucking course they did) who washed more frequently than the average peasant at the time and their neighbors decided to get in on that too. Milan survived relatively unscathed because whenever someone showed signs of plague, they and their family members were walled up in their homes and set on fire.

18. What’s one of your favorite lines you’ve written in a fic?

I like the entire exchange between Leo and Draxum on the roof. There were a lot of details written into those lines that gave extra information or conveyed something about their mental states.

29. Share a bit from a fic you’ll never post OR from a scene that was cut from an already posted fic. (If you don’t have either, just share a random fic idea you have that you don’t plan on getting to.)

I've played around with writing out Cass's consensual kidnapping and walking in on Gale being brainwashed, with some blurbs about her adjusting to life in the Hidden City. They never really got past scraps, but I can post this scrap.

She’s just getting back from school, last week before winter break, her head swarming with final this and final that. Tom says hello to her from where he’s working at the dining room table. Casey says hello back and promptly excuses herself to go work on her final paper for English.

He should be happy about that. She’s actually doing her homework.

Tom’s not bad, she supposes. He’s nice enough and doesn’t try to catch her coming out of the shower. He and Cindy offered to pay the fee if she rejoined the hockey team this year. But he gets on her every last nerve. She’s their first foster and they are absolutely trying too hard. At least Cindy isn’t home enough to annoy her.

She shuts her bedroom door and drops her backpack on the floor. Ugh. She could kill whoever invented academic papers. Well, the Odyssey isn’t going to write about itself.

“I have to say, this wasn’t-”

Casey whirls around, grabbing the first thing she registers-some Hello Kitty knick-knack she keeps on her dresser, in this case-and hurls it at the intruder.

Draxum bats it away, barely raising an eyebrow.

[customweedbags]

BrandMyDispo’s Meteoric Surge in Custom Dispensary Packaging: Revolutionizing Cannabis Merchandising One Bag at a Time

In a world where the cannabis industry swells faster than the fog over San Francisco, standing out isn't just a nice-to-have—it's essential. Dispensaries, striving to make a lasting impact, are realizing that their packaging isn’t merely a wrapper but a core piece of their identity. And now, BrandMyDispo, an inventive powerhouse in custom dispensary packaging, is swiftly transforming the very way these businesses present themselves. Every box, every bag, every jar carries a story—one that tells consumers precisely who these dispensaries are. So, let’s crack open this tale of growth and see what BrandMyDispo is stirring up in the world of cannabis presentation.

The Packaging Power Shift in the Cannabis Realm

The cannabis market? It's not the same beast it was five years ago. Legal sales are soaring into billions, and as state after state opens its doors, the sheer number of dispensaries popping up is mind-boggling. Imagine walking into a store with a hundred options on each shelf. What's going to make one product catch your eye over the next? That’s where packaging takes the stage. A sleek design, a sturdy feel, and a bold brand name can be the silent ambassadors of quality and trust.

In this fiercely competitive landscape, packaging morphs from a mere container into a powerful medium of brand identity. It’s a calling card, a little promise in a bag, an invitation that whispers, “This is different.” Dispensary owners see it too, and BrandMyDispo? They’re offering up packaging that doesn’t just contain cannabis—it declares it.

BrandMyDispo: Crafting a New Era in Cannabis Wrapping

BrandMyDispo saw the opening before many others. They understood early on that dispensaries needed more than plain old jars and bags. They craved packaging that screamed creativity, individuality, and quality. That’s where BrandMyDispo entered, not just as a supplier but as a partner in crafting brands.

What makes them different? They’re not here to give you the cookie-cutter stuff. They’re here to design custom jars, eco-friendly bags, and child-resistant containers, tailored precisely to each dispensary’s vibe and needs. A little edgy? They can do that. High-class and minimalist? They’ve got you covered.

Here’s a taste of why BrandMyDispo’s shaking up the dispensary scene:

Impeccable Compliance & Quality Cannabis is serious business. Regulations aren’t just guidelines—they’re laws with teeth. BrandMyDispo ensures every item meets stringent rules, from child-resistant mechanisms to required labeling. These aren’t just pretty packages; they’re fortresses that meet every legal standard.

Unmatched Customization & Creativity Want to wrap your brand in lush green? Or go for something sleek and metallic? BrandMyDispo’s team works one-on-one to make it happen. They don’t just “create designs”—they sculpt visions that speak your brand’s language.

Sustainable Packaging for a Greener Planet As eco-conscious consumers demand sustainability, BrandMyDispo rises to the call with recyclable, compostable, and biodegradable options. They don’t just supply dispensaries with eco-friendly options—they align brands with a larger, greener mission.

BrandMyDispo’s Rocket to Success

BrandMyDispo’s rapid growth isn’t just about beautiful packaging—it’s a blend of savvy strategies, dedication, and a dash of creative genius. Here’s how they’ve skyrocketed in such a short time:

Collaborative Partnerships From teaming up with manufacturers who understand cannabis like the back of their hands to working with design experts who can bring any vision to life, BrandMyDispo’s partnerships are a huge part of their magic. They’ve cultivated relationships that ensure high quality and swift deliveries, so clients never miss a beat.

Customer-Centric Philosophy BrandMyDispo listens—really listens—to their clients. They understand dispensary owners are juggling tight budgets, regulations, and a million other things. That’s why they offer various pricing options, bulk discounts, and incredible support, building a loyal following of clients who feel seen and valued.

Innovation and Technology at the Core BrandMyDispo isn’t just creative; they’re also on the cutting edge. With state-of-the-art design tools, they let clients see exactly what their packaging will look like before production. And by investing in high-tech production processes, they shave down delivery times without compromising quality.

The Impact: More than Just a Pretty Face on the Shelf

What’s the real effect of all this? For dispensaries, it’s profound. Investing in custom packaging isn’t about looking good—it’s about thriving. BrandMyDispo’s designs don’t just sit on shelves; they do the talking, the selling, and, ultimately, the converting. Here’s what dispensaries get from this partnership:

Boosted Brand Recognition Consistent, unique packaging sticks in a customer’s mind. BrandMyDispo’s designs turn each purchase into a memory, creating a visual fingerprint that keeps customers coming back. Dispensaries become more than shops—they become identities, etched in the minds of customers.

A Silent Sales Tool A custom package is more than a cover—it’s a promise. It implies quality, credibility, and a sense of care. High-quality packaging signals that what’s inside is worth the buy. BrandMyDispo’s work essentially whispers to every shopper, “This is the good stuff.”

Trust and Credibility on a Silver Platter In an industry filled with new names, trust isn’t handed out—it’s earned. When consumers see a well-crafted, professional package, they’re more likely to trust the brand. With BrandMyDispo, dispensaries aren’t just another name on the shelf; they’re brands customers can believe in.

What’s Next for BrandMyDispo?

The story doesn’t end here. As cannabis regulations evolve and sustainability becomes more crucial, BrandMyDispo is pushing boundaries. Their future isn’t just about packaging—it’s about shaping the entire industry. Here’s a hint of what’s on the horizon:

Expanding Sustainable Choices As environmental consciousness rises, BrandMyDispo plans to grow its range of eco-friendly packaging options. More recyclable materials, more compostable solutions—the kind of stuff that makes brands look good and feel even better.

Broadening Reach Beyond Dispensaries It’s not just cannabis brands that need help; CBD and wellness companies are on the hunt for premium packaging too. BrandMyDispo is ready to offer its expertise to a broader range of businesses, impacting more than just dispensaries.

BrandMyDispo’s growth story isn’t about fancy bags and jars—it’s about elevating cannabis brands, helping them make lasting impressions, and giving them tools to thrive in a crowded market. For dispensaries looking to not only survive but thrive, BrandMyDispo is the partner that turns packaging from an afterthought into a masterstroke.

In a world where first impressions are everything, BrandMyDispo offers dispensaries a chance to make theirs count. They don’t just deliver packaging—they deliver identity, quality, and a little bit of magic.

Learn more at brandmydispo.com

[raining-tulips]

I wanna add to this discussion as someone who has both been part of new age spiritual circles, witchy circles, AND done two years of IFS therapy with the most wonderful licensed therapist. Of course, everyone’s opinion is valid and this is meant to be my personal perspective and I absolutely love that OP brought up this important topic.

the long story short:

archetypal working with inner child = fine, low risk parts work = medium risk, but i don't think its possible to really go there without a therapist, has become a foundation of my personal spiritual practice emdr = absolutely do not do without a licensed professional shadow work in general = borrowed psychological term, 10000% not required to be spiritual or witchy, but there if you want.

I agree that you do have to be careful in these spiritual circles…at the same time, I think spiritual circles are often working with the archetype or very surface level “inner child” rather than doing any dangerous IFS work. There is a difference between working with your inner child in a sense of the archetype (a playful, joyful, creative energy) and actually going into your memories and hearing and seeing and possibly rescuing your actual inner child. There’s a reason not a single ritual or spell for my anger didn’t work when I was new to spirituality. It’s because I wasn’t working with the actual part, and had no true understanding of anger as an emotion. That’s why I’m hesitant to believe working with the “energies” of parts spiritually is dangerous - because I don’t think they do much, because you’re not actually accessing the thing, or the part. I still can’t really access my true anger unless my therapist helps me coax her out.

I do agree that you need to be careful, because you could accidentally trigger yourself without meaning to. But I genuinely believe most spiritual practitioners are nowhere close to hitting the depth that IFS work does and therefore are relatively mentally safe.

I think inner child work also falls under “shadow work” (another term that was meant to be in the psychological community not the spiritual), which is completely and 100% NOT necessary for your practice - just in case anyone needed the reminder, if it’s not something you want to touch, then you don’t gotta touch it.

There’s also something to be said for basic inner child healing work in pop-psychology. Doing things for your inner child like giving yourself love and affirmation that you never got, engaging in interests or hobbies your inner child never got to indulge in, is super healthy and great for the mind body and soul. Doing little coloring sheets encouraged by new age cricles or pop-psychology have never truly brought out my innter child, but have made her feel a little better and safer to come out.

At the same time, IFS to me is just different. You go there. It’s emotional. It’s truly transformative. And I truly believe (at least at first) you cannot get to that level of depth and realization without guidance from a professional. You just can’t. I had sensed my parts years before doing parts work, but nothing has been as healing and weird AND inherently spiritual as IFS has.

There have been times though, when my inner child or inner teen doesn’t want to talk to my therapist. It’s something me and that part have to talk about and go through ourselves. So outside of session, I have done “ritual” that provides space for these parts, or provides some sort of closure for these parts. And it has also been deep, healing, truly transformative and deeply mind boggling to the point where the only explanation feels spiritual. I’ve done protection rituals both in the inner world and in the physical for parts, and it’s been effective.

In fact, my therapist highly encouraged blending my spiritual practice with my IFS work outside of session.

But she also advised to never do EMDR work alone. I think that’s another big difference to note, and something big to say. Do not do EMDR without someone licensed.

So yes, I agree if you’ve never been to an IFS therapist before you shouldn’t try going deep into your trauma or inner child work (because it actually still is a person within you) without assistance. Not until you’ve been showed how to do it safely and effectively and have all the tools in your toolbox for grounding and coping and handling emotions and the actual science of how emotions work. But I also think that spiritual communities don’t even know what they’re touching, and that the surface level practices can be good, healing, and actually be entry level ways to discover parts work.

possibly controversial opinion, however, I am extremely wary of how people in witchy & pagan spaces are beginning to spiritualise ‘inner child work’. For those unknowing, inner child is a psychotherapy & IFS concept that seeks to provide therapy via metaphorical ‘parts’—the idea is that all of us have ‘parts’ that operate like a family unit. I won’t go into too much detail because I myself am not a licensed therapist, my biological mother is, but overall I am extremely wary of people trying to recommend courses/spells/rituals for a psychotherapy model especially without the guidance of someone actually trained in this. IFS can do serious damage even with a trained therapist, so why is it becoming a practice people are pushing as necessary in some spiritual spaces?

[starshipsofstarlord]

Could I request a Bucky Barnes x reader smut? Basically she and Bucky have been together for some time and maybe it’d be a little angst where the two are talking about the future and Bucky not thinking he can ever have a normal future? Which would result in soft smut and later reader being revealed as pregnant so Bucky finally gets his family

I’m Home

Pairing | Bucky Barnes x reader

Summary | based on the request ^^

Warnings | angst, smut, oral sex (m receiving), fluff, pregnancy, mentions of death

Quick link to my masterlist, if you’re interested in reading more of my crap 😬

The Wilson’s boat rocked sturdily upon the water, swaying as the boats worked aboard. Your hand held the weight of a silver spanner, twirling it in your fist as though it were a knife, thinking of the long road ahead of you. Sam had the shield now, that was a good start, but still, there was a ways to go until the world recognised him as the captain that he was meant to be.

There was so much destruction ongoing in the world, what with the flag smashers, and whomever the power broker was, and surely, you knew on the shallow surface, that there would be masses more problems to arise. It was exhausting, to know that there was no end to the war on earth, and that you were surely going to be fighting the threats until you could no more.

Bucky felt the same; he had just gone from one war to another, losing everyone that he cared about along the way. Steve had given everything up to finally find peace, and yet, the two did not share the same opportunity. An escape was never laid at your feet, instead, the pair of you were trapped in the cycle of cruelty, being blended around in a shredder by reality.

“Hey.” A voice confiscated you from the lonesome containment of your thoughts; it was Sam’s hosting sister, Sarah. I’m her own way, though you doubted that she would never admit such a thing, she was a hero. She had become a widow, and not to mention she remained a stable mother to keep her boys afloat, as well as nurturing half the kids that lived within close proximity.

“Hi Sarah.” You put the tool down, giving her your ample attention as you stood, tugging your fingers into the loops of your jeans as you stepped out of the boat, and onto the dock. “Anything I can help with?” It hadn’t passed your attention that Sam and Bucky had disappeared, but not into ash like last time. Instead, they had walked off in the direction of the house, most likely meddling about with a ball, in the back yard with Jim and Jody.

“I just came to let you know I’ve made the sofa up for you and Bucky. Are you sure you’ll be all good, I could always kick Sam outta his bed and make him sleep on the living room floor?” The two of you had nightmares, if you were to be separated from him for even a night, it was certain that the pair of you would greatly suffer. That was something you didn’t want to burden any of the Wilson’s with, screaming in the middle of the night because flashes from your past struck an unconscious nerve.

“All good, and thank you Sarah. You didn’t have to let us stay here, we both appreciate it, a hell of a lot.” One thing that you had learnt throughout your years was to show gratitude. The smallest amount shared had the ability to spring up moods, and had even set you on a much more heroic path than the one that you had been originally been placed upon.

“You’ve earned your stay.” Sam’s sister shrugged with modesty, acknowledging the help that you and Bucky had not only given to Sam, but to her family’s legacy. The two of you had aided with fixing the old wreckage that had now returned to the form of a boat, keeping it afloat rather than permitting it to sink from the quarrels that Sam had with himself regarding fixing the damned yet meaningful port of transport.

“This life you have, it’s great. I get it’s not easy, but it’s beautiful. You have two wonderful kids, that you’ve done such a great job raising, and not to mention, these community that you have is so loving and kind, even to us outsiders.” The pair of you had paused outside of her front door, speaking. “Sam is lucky to have you, he truly is.”

“Well, maybe one day this life could be something similar to what you’ll have.” The sister of your friend smiled, though your mirroring expression retracted. In a stumble of thought, you shook your head, not believing that possibility. This all was... perfect. That was something that you had never had, nor would you think that you’d ever be permitted such a peaceful lifestyle.

“I don’t think that would work out.” You sincerely mumbled, feeling the sad swelling in your chest at the prospect of all the luxuries that life had denied both you and Bucky of. It wasn’t fair all the same, but the two of you were used to being denied human rights, let alone the simplicity of nothing more than a life together. “As nice as it sounds, me and Buck aren’t really cut out for all this I suppose.”

“The world does not choose who can and cannot have a family, there’s always a way. Just because you haven’t had the most ideal line of story does not at all mean that you can’t make it work, from as much as i know, you two deserve a life together, that doesn’t include being shot at, or shooting at other people. Sometimes, you’ve just gotta go for it, and hope for the best.” She gave you a final nod, before heading inside, and you trailed after her into her her residency.

The two of you went your separate ways, and there, you saw Bucky, sat up on the sofa, his hands clasped together as his eyes stared towards the tan bag, that concealed not the shape, but the Stars and Stripes of the infamous shield. It was much a relief that it was no longer in Walker’s toxic clutch, however its presence, among other things, were taking a clear toll on your boyfriend.

“You ever feel like we’re stuck?” The air was tense around you both as he spoke solemnly, it diverting to match the mood of his question. “Like we’re us, and I love us, but it makes me think that it’s it. Just me and you, on this path for the rest of our lives, never getting a compensated break, nor an average person’s future. I want this, what these people here have, not the combat that is aided by this metal arm, or the associations that stick to us like life lines.”

“All the time, it’s on my mind James.” With a sigh, you came to sit beside him on the couch, resting your head against his bionic shoulder. “I ever wonder if there’s a timeline of you and me where there’s none of this ruckus, we just have a nice little house in a quiet and accepting place, and maybe a kid or two in the future.”

“I’d give anything up for that.” He looked at you, almost wide eyed, as his hand slithered down onto your knee cap, rubbing small circles as he wore a blunt and endearing smile upon his infatuating lips. “I mean that Buck, that sounds...”

“Perfect?” He asked, leaning closer as he grabs your chin with his wondrous fingers, his nose brushing alongside your own as his puckered lips fell upon yours, earning a small hun of content from within you. “Because you’re perfect to me, and no matter what life we are encased in, I want to share it with you. I want stare at the night sky and watch the moonlight illuminate the side of your face, and the stars reflect in your entrapping eyes, that I want to look into like a medium’s orbs forever, because that is how I will see the future that I ever so hope for.”

“How long have you been working on that one Barnes, because you are usually not that smooth?” A small laugh erupted from your mouth, but you were quickly silenced as you felt a cold metal hand slither up and beneath the back of your tank top, rubbing along the seam of your spine, as his lips ran down the column of your throat, evoking small and delicate whimpers out of you.

“Shut up doll, because I really want to fuck you now, and those words leaving your mouth are making it kinda hard to concentrate.” A furrow imbedded between his brows, as you tilted your head at him, a smirk proclaiming your expression as you pulled the material over your head, and reached behind yourself to unclip the back of your bra.

“Kinda hard to concentrate, hun?” You asked nonchalantly as his gaze zeroed in on your bare breasts, his hands smoothing along your ribcage as he adjusted his grip of you so that he was palming at your breasts, and squeezing the nipples. “I want you in me baby, I’ve practically gone days without you inside of me.” Licking your lips, you reached down to palm your beloved through his layers, earning a positive groan from the former assassin.

“Hours, you mean. I fingered you on the road trip here.” Yes, that was true, however, it was only his fingers, not even the metal ones, and whilst you loved what they alone could do, he had to be discreet as you were sat on the back of the truck, which had carried the primary parts for the Wilson’s family boat. If you were to scream out, they’d have surely thought that you’d fallen off the back of the truck and pull over, or if they had much sense, they’d have noticed that there was more going on than two passengers sat side by side on the journey to their small neighbourhood by the docks,

“You heard me Barnes, otherwise I’m sure Sam wouldn’t have any problem if I came to his room in this state of undress that I am currently portraying.” Growling was never Bucky’s fortes, however the sound aggressively ripped through the tunnel of his throat, as he threw off his grey top, quickly unfastening his belt, as he awaited for you to strip the rest of your clothing before him.

But rather than doing so, as he stood before you, your hand had trouble resisting the sight of his cock that had bobbed to attention, and thus, you wrapped it around his toned flesh, giving it a couple jerks that had his head reeling back, before you tongued his tip, moaning to yourself at the taste of him invading your sensitive taste buds. “Love your cock.”

As soon as you said that, Bucky gently gathered your head in a ponytail so that it was free from bombarding your face, and groaned as quiet as he could as you sucked him in your mouth, running your tongue up the side of his shaft. “Is that a part of your dream world baby doll, the sight of my cock throbbing to be inching down that perfect little throat of yours?”

To answer him, you pressed your head down deeper, humming around him as your eyes ogled up at the sight of your super soldier, who was trying his hardest to keep his eyes open, and attuned to the sight of you. He held his bottom lip between his teeth, as you lightly gagged around him, pulling off him, and squeezing his balls, before running your hungry tongue along the middle of his sack.

“Always. It would be a dream if you made love to me right here and now though, I’m not sure I can wait any longer James.” Bucky took a long inhale, before ravishingly pulling down your jeans and panties in one go, and tossing you so that he was below your form, and you hovered over him, toying with his erect cock. “I love you so much Bucky, and I’m scared of what’s to come. I have a feeling that there’s gonna be a fight.”

“There’s always a fight doll face.” He rubbed his thumb soothingly across your jaw, pulling your hips down closer so that you were rubbing your slick folds against his standing cock. “But this is what we’re fighting for, the rest of our lives together. I’d be damned, one day after this, and if I were to die, I’d be a happy man. There’d be the memory of you to keep me forever happy in the afterlife, and not to mention, there’d be no more wars for me to participate in.”

“I’m not going to let you die Buck, even hypothetically. We saw how your little hypothetical synopsis went last time.” Tapping his cock against your clit, a breathy sound evicted from your lips, as you stared down at the two of you intimately touching, the sight alone making you more turned on and impatient. “No one is allowed to kill you, otherwise I’ll unleash hell on all their flag smashing asses.”

Giving him one last stroke, you guided his tip towards your entrance, removing your hand once you had him situated, so that you could rest it upon his sturdy shoulder, and sink down on him, the feeling of him stretching you being the most euphoric sensation that you had ever endured. Hushed moans ceased from the both of you, as Bucky’s hands gripped your ass cheeks, only adding to all of the pleasure that was erupting within you.

“Think your pussy is gonna kill me before anyone else does; your so tight.” His pitch had rose, as your fingertips danced along the left side of his handsome face, invisibly connecting the dots of his beauty marks. You allowed the pair of you to adjust for a simple moment, before you began to raise your hips, sliding up his super soldier rod, only to slide down it again.

The actions were repeated, as your own hands trailed down his warm skin, to drag down the golden lines of his vibranium arm, only to bring the weapon to your mouth, and kiss every black finger up, as you tried your best to muffle the moans that were hoping to reap free. “So fucking big, I love you and your cock.” You muttered, your sight turning blurry as Bucky realised that it was his turn to do the work, and thus, he thrusted up into you, making echoing sounds of your skin slapping together reverberate around the room.

“Love you more.” He gritted his teeth, pulling his metallic hand away from your numb lips, so that he could swirl the elegant digits around your clit, the action provoking whimpers to rapidly surpass your exterior, as you bit harshly onto your own lip, and screwed your eyes shut. “Cum for me doll, want you to cover my hard cock in everything you have. Come on baby, you can do it.”

Without much thought, as your mind was too scrambled to do so, you reached for Bucky’s spare hand, pulling it to your mouth as you sucked on his fingers as though you were blowing him. A low moan that was dialled down from the presence of his flesh digits, ran from your mouth, as you began to bounce your hips, chasing and eventually reaching your high. You came around him, pushing him too over the edge, his seed filling your walls, as you collapsed atop of him, huffing from exhaustion as you removed his salivated hand from the realms of your mouth, resting your head against his panting chest.

Stringed sighs fell from Bucky’s breath as he tried to catch his own breath. His hands rubbed your back, not only to comfort you, but also to subconsciously pull you closer against him, and his softening cock that was still inside you, and was keeping his cum plugged within your tender and pulsating walls. If life was easier, there’d be more time for this, and that, but for now, it was just every now and then. Maybe you’d win this fight and survive until the next one, but maybe, you’d lose and never battle again.

Life was precious, that was something that you had not only learned as an avenger, but also something that had been told to you by Isiah. That man thought that you deserved a normal life, no fighting, no super soldiers. He himself was the biggest yet silent critic of those with additional strength, but his opinion was never going to sway you, not as you stared out into Sarah’s backyard, and watched the man that you loved play with the boys.

They had the shield, and were whisking it through the air like a frisbee; dangerous, yes, but again, life could only amount to so much without an ounce of pain. A content and satisfied smile absorbed any pain on your face, you were enraptured with the sight of Bucky like this, he was like an uncle to these two kids. He was no captain America, that was for sure, but you didn’t want a man in Stars and Stripes, all you wanted was him to be at peace, and it was a fact unbeknownst to him, that you had made such an alternative to that.

“Still want all this?” Sarah emerged, a cheap yet formidable bottle of wine pursed in her hand, as she held two clear and tall glasses in her hand. You hummed, watching as she poured the thin red consistency into one glass, but as she went to fill the other, you held out your hand, shaking your head. The woman was confused, last time you had visited, and were entangled on her sofa with the limbs of your boyfriend and a shaggy old blanket, you had kindly accepted her offer.

“Sure do.” You sighed, staring out into the green abyss where Jim was hanging from Bucky’s arm like it were a branch. “How do you do this, this whole mother thing? I’ve never been able to wrap my head around how you make it look so easy, it’s just, you do such a good job.” Your palms rested flat on your thighs as you laughed at Sam ordering Jody to jump on Bucky’s back, as he fell down in faux defeat.

“It never is easy y/n.” She placed the open bottle down, along with the mismatched glasses, that were asymmetrical considering one was half filled and the other wallowed in emptiness. “But every step of difficulty is worth it. There’s not a day that goes by that I don’t miss their father, but they’re my priority. For Jim and Jody, there’s nothing I wouldn’t do, and you’d understand that if you ever opened yourself up to giving your life of heroism up to have all this.”

“I might have to.” Twiddling with your fingers, glancing up at your boyfriend, realising that he was in fact not looking over, you clasped your intwined hands over your stomach, smiling softly to yourself. “And maybe not having another option is the best option for me and Buck, because we don’t have to fight with ourselves over being included in our duties, we have new ones.”

“You’re pregnant, aren’t you?” Sarah asked, resting her nurturing hand upon the tile of your shoulder, prompting you to turn your face towards her. There was a conflict in your eyes, it was something that she recognised her younger self having once worn. It was the idea of putting everything aside, all for a child, everything that she had ever known, so that she could put her baby boy first. “Does Bucky know?”

“He will.” You shifted your head down, unsure of yourself. This had been what you had wanted, and whilst you still envied Sarah for the role she had, you were hurt. A part of you wanted to be an avenger until you were nothing but a soul drifting in the abyss of non existence, another didn’t want to let the knowledge of being a carrier for a new future crumble you. “I just need a moment to tell him.”

“I’ve got it.” She sent you a wink, picking up the items she had brought out, before she called on Sam and the kids to come inside. Sarah had gifted you the opportunity of revealing the truth to your partner with no one else around; you appreciated that. As he stalked closer, you met him halfway, sinking into his arms as he hugged you.

“Looked like you were having fun with the boys.” You verbally noted, loving the feeling of him running his fingers through your hair. “You’re amazing Bucky Barnes, to me and to everyone. I just, don’t want you to freak out on me, I have something big, really big, to tell you, and-“

“Baby, I know.” He smiled, pulling back so that he could look you in the face. “I have super human senses, I heard their little heart beat for the first time yesterday. We’re having a baby, and I couldn’t be happier about it. In fact, I want to ask you if you’ll accept my question of making Sam the godfather.” You nodded, tears standing in your eyes, as you brought the man down for a kiss.

“Yes. But I’m not sure that he’ll be praising us for making a baby when we technically created him or her on the couch inside.” Bucky shook his head at you, kissing your forehead before walking inside with you, preparing to tell the Wilson family, that had along the way became your own, the good news- well, not the sofa bit.

[bioodorange]

||How I See The Pastas||

© @frozensriracha, for some help with visuals!!

This was originally supposed to be how they looked but I decided to go for mental aspect and explain why as well PLEASE like, reblog and share your thoughts on this in the comments or inbox

Below the desciptions are images i’ve compiled and some art (if you know the creator please tell me so i can credit them) for a visual

dont forget to like reblog and share your thoughts with me, I spent a few days on this so i’d appreciate this

Jeff the Killer

So lets start with the obvious- jeffs pasty white toothpaste lookin skin

But realistically he wouldn’t be completely covered in scars

It would be blotchy, with pink fleshy patches among the burns

He most likely has contracture scars, third degree burns that turn the skin a pale white and tighten the skin

This explains his gaunt features and skin color

Now we have to take into account the vodka that was splashed on him, he’d probably have worse burns there with exposed flesh and damaged nerves

This would result in gnarly exposed skin, a damaged scalp and maybe damage to his teeth and eyes

Realistically, Jeff wouldnt have burned off his eyelids that alone would have resulted in blindness and death

Than his smile, his signatuure mark would probably be more of a gangly bloody scar mess

Pastas heal faster and aren’t really human, he’d have to recut his smile pretty frequently making it pretty jacket up because ltes be honest hes far from clean

ANd than his hait being chard black is very unlikely because as nasty as he is he s h o w e r s

not very frequnetly given his living situation and untreated burns but people can figure out how to wash hait and not much else

also i think its funny he’d shower with a plastic bag on his face to avoid getting soap in his nasty infected scars-

His hair would probably be dry and cut unevenly, more of a dark brown color with blonde undertones

Not to mention his burned scalp, hair probably wouldn’t grow there so he’d have a cool unintentional side shave

Jeff would also be a tall individual, he cant really eat, snacking on things from his victims homes giving him a more skeletal build

His personality and mindest is about as pretty as his face- but he most likely has a very screwed up headspace

Lacking in self care, maturity and sanity its fair to say he’d be a brash and violent person

Fun Fact: While researching this I learned that some versions of the joker had facial scars in the shape of a smile

Ticci Toby

So tobys age, unlike a lot of pastas, is pretty well agreed on, 19

So unlike when he was first a proxy toby most likely has stronger facial features and facial hair

Because shaving and hygiene isn’t first priority for pastas (gross-)

He stands around 5′7 and has grayish skin

Toby i feel is picky about foods, not only is it hard for him to eat its hard for him to keep food down

He’s malnourished explaining his thin figure and grayish skin

His hait is dark brown and a curlish mess, unkempt but short so it doesn’t get in his way

I’ve always seen him with a small gap in his teeth, because I can

And since toby can’t feel shit I wouldn’t be surprised if he tried to eat rocks simply because he fuckin could

So some chipped teeth that are a bit uneven

Along with his CIPA and not eating enough Toby would bruise easily and have lots of scars, from things like cutting his finger on accident or getting mauled by a racoon

I wouldn’t be surpised if some of his joints were a bit screwed up, because whenever theyd beak or fracture he wouldn’t notice, this would probably happen a lot causing them to not heal correctly

One of tobys habits is nailbiting but he cant te;; when too far is too far

His fingers may be abit odd looking, knobby and discolored nails because of how exetreme his habit is

Would most likely have bandages around his fingers frequently to prevent the habit

So theres a lot of debate about tobys cheek was it the CIPA or the car accident, I beileve the accident because his other cheek is completely fine, theres damage from the OUTSIDE to inside and considering his sister died in the accident its unlikely he survived unscathed

Fun Fact: only a small handful of people have ever been diagnosed with CIPA, less than 500 (documented) cases around the world

Bloody Painter

So Helen is often seen as quiet emo painter boy 

but uh no <3

Personaly i beileve he suffers from narcisistic personality disorder, exetreme importance and that he is always victorious and gets what he wants

This sporuts from the constant heavy invalidation from classmates, toxic friends and neglect from his parents

He doesn’t hang out with people because he doesn’’t lie them its because they never let him in the past and he beileves he’s better than them

But this also links to deep rooted insecurity and social anxiety/being inept completely

Him being nice is basically so you like him, he wants validation amd admiration not love

Unlike the other pastas he’d be a more clean well kept one a helthy figure and some tattoos bevause he can

I beileve he lives in socity, finding hus victims in girls and men alike who fall for his charm

he uses hhis skill and ordinary appearance to blend in on the streets

From his behavior helen most likely keeps his hair a bit shorter and clean

He always looks his best

Has chapped, and picked at lips because of his anxieties

Aswell as his breakdowns- his identity is completely in his head, he is very unsure of who he is and takes the delusions in his mind as reality

Unrelated but paino fingers-

And finally in order for his art to be as perfect and amazing as him, he has to be apart of it

Thus using his own blood in his pieces and the body parts of those he admires

Covers his scars with clean bandgaes

But his paintings turn brown and dry out, he’s always in need of a new medium

Is most likely anemic from all the blood he looses and has a paler skintone

Clockwork

ahh yes finally someone who knows what self care is-

helen, i love you buddy but you need to stop 

But anyway natalie has a stronger, athletic build

She often chases her victims and gets in altercations, relying on strength most  of the time

on that same note, this would defintelty cause many scars on natalie

Wether it was a bite mark or scars from a kitchen knife, shes got lots of scars

A few even on her face

Now, for the clock in her eye that thing is like holding her skull together at this point, realistically

She is probably delicate and cares for it becaise 1) it hurts 2) if it gets screwed up that could cause a lot of problems

natalie would be a smart person, I wouldn’t be surprused if she had a few other stray stitches or bandgaes wrapped around a fresh wound

For more visual-ish things uh m u l l e t (credit: @cum-looking-sock-mf in a chat like 4 months ago)

She has one, fight me on it

but also thick and curlish hair so I also riase you

Undershave

just y e s

I can also see her getting tattoos over certain scars on her arm, just to make them look not so ugly

I feel like clockwork wishes things worked out better

Wishes for another chance but knows she’ll never get one

Thus her taking goof care of herself

Natalie throws herseld into her “work”, keeping her body in shape and killing people

Its a way to avoid her life and that it is- a huge, sad mess

Shes an outgoing impulsive individual, confident but questions her actions

She’s also unstable- protective and loyal but explosive and strong 

Jane the Killer

Jane is the final one, im sorry I couldn’t do more theres a photo limit and I wanna bash my head into the wall

Now a main different between her and jeff is she had surgery and lie treatment

Janes skin is still greatly scarred but it is greatly healed

She takes care of it and had skin grafts

Her face is disfigured, a scarred smile and burns around

But unlike Jeff she doesn’t recarve the cut so its a cleaner line and a lot healthier

Janes hair took a rather long time to grow back, but it did! 

She has a slightly long pixie cut a bit choppy but she doesn’t mind

Her wife definetely cuts it for her and you can fight me over that

I can see Jane having a lot of facial trauma, scars around her nose and cheeks

She was young when she started killing and went for the over the person, pin them down kill which didn’t work out

She switched to a silenced pistol after awhile, you know like a smart person

Janes arms and legs are in alright condition where most of the burn trauma is on her back

She has a leaner but healthy figure but like boobs-

Like clockwork and Helen she takes care of herself

She doesn’t kill as frequently, going after a few of jeffs victims before him and is of course, actively hunting him down

Her eyes are a pale green and she wears makeip to fill in her eyebrows because those bitches take a long time to grow back

fun fact: jeff has no eyebrows, fight me

[peaceoutofthepieces]

Sink Or Swim

tag list: @cleocc @feeling-kinda-so-so @hopelessromanticvirgo @dreamy-slytherin @adora8 @lockerfivethreefive @painfully-oblivious @poeticinemaa @jjustonemorething @saraben00 @wedarkacademia @coolguyssyndrome @hischbabe @suckerforsobbe @tayspots @starmansander @theah0lt @zoenneforever @invisibleme @chibibanane @odi-et-amo85

~^~

Thursday, 18:02

Song: Daði Freyr - Think About Things

Lucas finds himself pleased at how easy it is to pick Sander out from a crowd. If the white hair doesn’t give it away, the jacket does; if the jacket isn’t enough, the laughter is; and if that fails, the boyfriend is always a good confirmation.

Robbe is the one who spots Lucas first, wrapped up in his usual brown coat and then Sander, who whispers something in Robbe’s ear that makes him roll his eyes. Lucas’s heart clenches. Fondness and jealousy war inside him and tangle into a tight knot. A thin thread of fear completes it. He always marvels at them, at the openness of their affection, and yet he still finds himself casting his gaze around for the onlookers who don’t hold the same respect. Seeing them so free of any guards only makes Lucas’s heighten.

Especially when Sander turns to look at him, smile wide and eyes bright, but with faint shadows lingering underneath. He holds his hand out when Lucas is a few feet away and Lucas clasps it in greeting, allowing Sander to tug him forward into a half hug. “Hey.”

His tone is cheerful, light, and still Lucas does a discreet examination, noticing the tousled hair and drooped shoulders and worrying, until he catches sight of the faint bruise not quite tucked away under his collar. He moves his gaze to Robbe, who hasn’t unwound his arm from the other’s waist and holds a blush high in his cheeks, but seems pleased and unbothered, and he understands. He extends the same greeting to Robbe as he internally berates himself, remembering how his mother would react under the same scrutiny. Sander is the only one capable of knowing what he feels and what he’s up for, and it isn’t Lucas’s place to play doctor. Clearly, even the blonde’s boyfriend has learned that.

“So, why exactly have I been invited to third wheel for the day?” Lucas asks.

Robbe huffs a laugh. “I think that’ll actually be me today. I’m not exactly part of this plan.”

“You’re always part of my plan,” Sander dismisses easily, ignorant to the blush he earns in response as he grins excitedly at Lucas. “How do you feel about an actual lesson in art, protégé?”

“Wait, seriously?” Lucas raises a brow. He’d assumed, when Sander had reached out to him, that it was art-themed. But even now, he isn’t sure what exactly to expect.

“That is assuming you don’t already know what you’re doing,” Robbe amends. “How much practice have you had with graffiti?”

Lucas’s eyes almost bulge out of his head. “Really?”

Sander purses his lips, amused, as Robbe raises his brows. “Is that a lot, or…?”

“None. I haven’t done any. Yet.”

“Ahh,” Sander rubs his hands together, beaming. “Then today’s your lucky day. Come.”

Lucas doesn’t need to be told twice. He follows them closely down the sidewalk, the two in constant contact but never excluding, always trying to invite Lucas in. Lucas laughs at their teasing and nods at their explanations and listens raptly to their tales and only feels his excitement grow. Art is something he’s been neglecting, recently, aside from a few flurries of rushed sketches, but the passion has seemed to revive full force by just being in Sander’s presence. His love for the subject is obvious in every exaggerated word and extravagant gesture of hands, and Lucas is effectively entranced. Graffiti was never a medium he’d considered seriously, but he’s always admired. He’s more than aware of Sander’s talent for it, and admits that a lesson from such a person is not a bad way to start off.

It also makes him feel that bit more insufficient. He can’t possibly match up to either of these boys, be it in bravery or talent or both. It dims his excitement, just slightly.

But his spirits are quickly revived as they finally make it to their destination. Sander hands him a mask made from black cloth from his pocket and waits as he and Robbe tuck them over their ears. Only then does he don his own with a wink before rapping his knuckles rhythmically on the garage door.

The inside space is much bigger than Lucas expects, opening up to reveal rows of large containers, all decorated with at least one piece of art. Sander guides Lucas and Robbe through them, indicating artists he ‘knows’, complete pieces he’s captured while they were still in progress, and a few small things of his own tucked away behind new layers.

“Take a good look around,” Sander says, turning to wink at Robbe. Lucas only has a few seconds to be confused before he adds, “You might find the love of your life here.”

Lucas raises his brows. “This is where the two of you met?”

“Met is a strong word,” Robbe says, rolling his eyes at Sander. “I didn’t even see him.”

“No, he was too focused on his girlfriend at the time,” Sander agrees lightly.

“But he claims he saw me and it was love at first sight.” Robbe reaches up to pinch his boyfriend’s cheek, and Lucas allows a small laugh. “Even though he could barely see my face.”

“Didn’t need to,” Sander shrugs. “I was right, wasn’t I?”

Robbe comes to a halt and tugs at Sander’s hand, drawing him around to face him. He pulls down Sander’s mask after tugging away his own, leaning in for a short kiss. It takes Lucas longer than it should to avert his gaze. He just doesn’t think he can ever get used to it.

While actually watching them, he doesn’t think he could ever do that. He doesn’t think he could ever be that.

But he wants to.

When he looks away, his gaze catches on a bright patch hidden amongst a cloud of grayscale. His feet carry him towards it on their own accord, and it takes a few moments for him to realise what it is. It’s a patchwork rainbow of colours, blended together but with dark, specific lines cutting through and outlining it to form a heart, in its scientific detail. Lucas would scoff, if there wasn’t something about it that had ridden him speechless in awe, hand reaching out to brush over the dried paint.

He doesn’t notice Sander until he’s right at his shoulder, then he jumps when he speaks.

“Huh?” Lucas twists to look at him.

“Nice piece,” Sander repeats. “I don’t actually remember seeing it before.”

“You don’t know who did it, then?”

“No. Even the style isn’t familiar.”

Lucas nods and lets his hand fall away, following when Sander sets off in a new direction. He’s led to a blank spot on one of the containers, with a crate of spray paint already waiting at the top of the short steps. Excitement bubbles back up in him as he jogs up after Sander, only to turn back in confusion when he realises Robbe hasn’t followed. He catches sight of him fist-bumping another guy in greeting, over a head taller than him and built like a wall. Sander follows his gaze and snorts at the picture, giving a little wave when Robbe turns his gaze on him suspiciously.

Then Sander turns back to the space and rubs his hands together. “Okay. Have you ever done any spray-painting before?”

“I haven’t even held a can.”

Sander immediately picks a can out and smacks it into his hand. “Then today is really your lucky day. We’re gonna start with a neutral layer then, just to get you used to how it feels. You can try with some vague shapes just to practice lines?”

Lucas nods, trying not to appear too lost already. Sander smiles slightly, anyway, and picks up a can of his own, giving it a vigorous shake as he finally tugs his mask back up over his face. Lucas copies him, getting used to the hold of it, adjusting his grip a few times until he feels more comfortable. When Sander uncaps his Lucas does the same. Then he watches as Sander sprays a quick, messy wave downwards in example.

When Lucas moves to copy him, Sander quickly catches his hand. “Woah, woah. First lesson—always make sure the nozzle is pointing the right way, yeah? We don’t want you losing an eye. Jens will never like me.”

Lucas flushes, turns the can around the right way, and hesitantly presses down when Sander nods. White covers gray in a sudden, heavy stream, and he carefully moves his hand in a small circle. He’s shading this in under Sander’s mildly impressed—but still watchful—gaze before the end of his words sink in.

“What has Jens got to do with spray-painting?”

Sander glances at him, then shrugs, raising his own can again and looping a circle through Lucas’s. “Not the painting, just you. You’re his new favourite, aren’t you? And he already didn’t seem impressed that we knew each other. Last thing I ever want to do is prove Jens right.”

“You don’t get along?” Lucas asks carefully.

“Oh no, we do. We just also like the healthy sort of competition we have going on. He acts like he’s annoyed and I annoy him a little more. It’s nice. Works well.”

Lucas smiles in mild confusion. “Why, though? You’re both really cool, you probably have a few obscure things in common. Wouldn’t you rather be closer?”

Another shrug. “It’s not completely up to me. I don’t know that Jens is acting, all the time.”

“What, you think you annoy him?”

Sander examines the little symbol they’ve created as he searches for a response. “I think I’m always worthy of concern, in his eyes. He’s very protective of Robbe, and I respect that,” he settles on.

It doesn’t entirely satisfy Lucas. “He doesn’t need to protect Robbe from you.”

Sander turns towards him and offers, from the new curve of his cheeks, what Lucas assumes is a smile. “No?”

Lucas shakes his head. “No one loves Robbe more than you. It’s not possible.”

That seems to brighten the other boy, slightly, and Lucas wonders if Jens is even aware of this doubt in their relationship. It seems unlikely. If he knew the way it weighed on the blonde, Lucas is sure he’d quickly set him right. It saddens Lucas, to see the tightly-drawn curl of Sander’s shoulders as he ducks down to collect a new can and doesn’t quite meet his eye as he rises again. He’s sure Jens wouldn’t like it, either.

“Robbe told you, right? About my…”

The reason for the tension suddenly becomes more clear. Lucas hates that the other boy can’t even say it. “Yeah. I’m sorry if you didn’t want me to know, I wasn’t meaning to pry—“

“No,” Sander cuts him off, raising his free hand and giving a small shake of his head. “I told Robbe it was okay. I’m sorry that I couldn’t explain it myself. It’s usually...not an issue so quickly after I meet someone.”

“It isn’t an issue,” Lucas says softly, simply.

Sander shakes the new can and watches his own movements closely. “I would have just liked you to get to know me first. I understand if you—if it changes how you see me.”

Lucas tilts his head and sets a gentle hand on Sander’s arm, waiting until the other boy looks at him. There is, Lucas realises, a vulnerability in him that he hadn’t noticed in any of their previous meetings. A dull, contained sadness behind the eccentric persona. It strikes a chord more familiar in Lucas’s chest than the initial one, the one that had seen an outsider and an extravagant and an artist. Now he sees more clearly—a struggler and a fighter and a savior.

The only thing that has changed, in Lucas’s opinion of Sander, is that he’s ten times more interesting than he’d originally thought. Lucas views him as more of a kindred spirit now than before.

“How I see you,” Lucas muses. “You mean as the scarily talented, intimidatingly cool, older guy who is literally teaching me one of the most awesome art-forms ever right now? Yeah, Sander, it’s real disappointing.”

He shakes his head, disbelieving, and is gratified at the small laugh Sander lets out in response.

“Wait,” Sander teases, “do I have my first fanboy?”

Lucas scoffs, then nods his head behind them. “I doubt I’m the first.”

The mask works at hiding his cheeks, but Lucas still sees his neck reddening as he looks over his shoulder at Robbe. His eyes seem to brighten and soften at once when he finally catches sight of him. Lucas realises then how deep their affection actually goes. It throws him, how clear it is suddenly, how little Sander does to hide it, how easily Robbe feels his eyes and turns to reciprocate even though there shouldn’t be any way for him to know. They are that in tune, that in sync, that it baffles Lucas to watch them. He can’t imagine anyone ever looking at him like that.

Aren’t you lonely?

Lucas shakes the memory way and finds himself admitting, “My mom is bipolar, too.”

Sander looks back at him instantly.

“No one else here knows that, so. You’re the first,” he continues, awkwardly, pointlessly, stupidly. Where is he going with this?

It doesn’t matter. He just needed to say it.

“Oh,” Sander says. Then his tone softens. “Is that why you moved here?”

Lucas averts his gaze and gives a small, jerky nod. “My dad...he made us. He couldn’t—no, he wouldn’t stay. I miss her. Everyday. It doesn’t make me love her any less. I just miss my mother.”

Sander’s shoulders slump, but before he can say anything else Robbe is climbing the steps and joining them. “How’s it going?”

Sander shifts his gaze to his boyfriend and Lucas feels the tension holding his spine seep away. Robbe and Sander pull their masks down again in tandem, sharing nothing more than a quick peck. It’s just enough of a distraction for Lucas to make himself look busy, as he sprays the hasty shape of a designer-heart on the container, next to their circles. Then he does a careful ‘R + S’ inside.

Robbe makes a small noise that may be a cheer as Sander snorts. “We have a natural here. I think he might even have something to teach me.”

Lucas turns to him with a retort ready on his tongue and stops when he sees Sander’s serious, but warm gaze. He realises that it isn’t about the painting.

He reaches out and knocks Sander’s shoulder fondly, smiling to himself when Sander squeezes his in response.

[floggingink]

OH HERE WE GO LADIES IT’S RIVERDALE, CHAPTER EIGHTY: “Purgatorio”

I’m tuning in to be VERY entertained on the grounds that I missed almost the entirety of S4 and will not understand anything

we open with an incredible analogue comparing the football team to the Army, as men do construct rituals: football players get blown into the sky, etc., in a heartrending mash-up of Archie’s innocence + the American ideal/expectations/pipeline of masculinity

Archie Company is decked out appropriately to storm Hürtgen Forest

that art direction trope where a character’s hearing goes EEEEEEEEEEEEEE after an explosion……...delightful

the Vixens and friends cheering him on from the sidelines as if Archie can only process his unprocessable present through the lens of his past………...hits the spot

distressingly wood-based rifles for our purposes

Archie > Dawson: I don’t mind telling you I felt emotion upon Archie hoisting his war buddy over his shoulders to that quadruple-toned “Chivalric Archie Using His Strength for Good” tune, like when he broke his whole hand busting Cheryl out of Sweetwater River

WHEN HE SAW HIRAM LODGE, I’M TELLING YOU! 

Hiram’s dragon-scale gloves? absolutely savory; he would

“Yonkers” is one of those New York place names I don’t totally buy is real (Poughkeepsie is another)

the sepia-toned light in this hospital room rings true judging by all the Captain America fanfiction I’ve read; I also like the mint-colored hand towels draped on Archie’s bedframe bought, one assumes, using the Department of Defense’s Kohl’s Cash

Archie made Sergeant, which is the best ranking for a fictional character: important enough that they can be a leader, get into trouble; low-profile enough that you don’t have to write them in the room making terrible decisions; probably won’t die immediately, as a Captain or Private might be

Fifth period is AP English: Archie reads A Farewell to Arms to Corporal Jackson, a WWI novel by Hemingway that Jug definitely turned him onto

Christ, Archie looks good in that on-leave jacket thing

I like Jackson’s subtle graph paper-print hospital gown

Gay?!: was Jackson in love with Archie? is he gonna bus to Riverdale once he’s off his pain meds? RAS, is that you in there?

God you know I love that haunted-ass Exorcist wooden bench bus light lighting

how long has the WW been relocated under Pop’s??? I do NOT know what happened to La Bonne Nuit

Sexy, aesthetic Southside: Fangs’ hair? his Tony Stark glasses? the girls’ “I’m a Slave 4 U” Burmese pythons? Toni’s headdress and immaculate glossed lip? 

Sixth period is Intro to Film: the only part of From Dusk till Dawn I’ve seen is Salma Hayek putting her toe in Quentin Tarantino’s mouth but judging from that I figure I’d like the rest 

The female gaze: Jesus Sweet Pea still looks good

Toni’s stage is flanked by twin pillars of melting candles and I would like someone to track those down for my bathroom

if they lay one hand on Pop Tate…

Betty appears to be, on her own, running the FBI training course. Betty is such a freak

Betty’s FBI-appointed psychologist is “Dr. Starling,” wears a great yellow blouse; Betty eats what appears to be a mini-sized Milky Way

her blond FBI trainer-boyfriend (uh) Glen appears to be an unholy fusion of Jimmi Simpson and that one actor with brown hair and really sharp light eyes whose acting credits I can’t think of right now, you know who I’m talking about (not the guy from Vampire Diaries)

I quite like her patterned blouse and I hate his yellow (gold?!) and blue tie

Please protect Betty: obviously we stan the Silence of the Lambs shit even as it remains infuriating Bryan Fuller couldn’t get his hands in it

Betty’s cat’s crying was so disturbingly baby-like that I had to leave the room once I realized it was in fact a cat

I’ve watched the Elisa Lam tape too many times in recent hours to handle this hallway shot

REALLY GROSS LICKING NOISES

the Trash Bag Killer coming at her was scary :(

Betty’s lovely blue knit cardi with the puffed sleeves!

50 Shades of Betty: clearing her throat before the doctor quite finishes her sentence—Lili Reinhart continues to be great at conveying “slightly perturbing subterranean tension”

was Charles a serial killer too??? oh damn!

Betty has been successfully holding off giving Glen a key to her place until now, an era that must come to a close

fellas, “Do I at least get a kiss?” is a bad move

Veronica was rich: Veronica’s new digs: exposed brick, bougiely avant-garde chandelier; possibly an elevator door right there behind the dude?

Veronica has married Hiram, to no one’s surprise

Chadwick looks like Jimmi Simpson and brunet Evan Peters plus a jaw

Veronica’s single-puffled-sleeved gown…..madamn (she has absolutely been taking secret birth control pills)

Summer + Blair = Veronica: of course Veronica would be great at Howard Ratner’s job; I MUST know what “specialty showcase haute couture offense” Vinnie has committed

T-Dubbs’ green jacket

Veronica pretended she was working at like, a department store? but she MISSED the EDGE post-day-trading

their apartment is so expensive that their bedroom is totally exposed

oh my god, Hermione

Best costume bit: please get me these satiny green high-waisted slacks?! and ugh her blouse has shoulder tassels……..she’s flourishing

“That’s threatening to an alpha like Chad.”

yes, they have a private elevator. fine.

Glen and Chad get their ties from the same Men’s Warehouse

“When that helicopter went down on the way to Martha’s Vineyard…”

you know kissing is 4-real when one person cups their hand to the back of the other person’s neck all close

I don’t understand the drop of the Glamergé egg but I appreciate that there is one and that Veronica is like, get this the fuck out of my house

Veronica’s shiny cropped tweed two-piece, Yvonne’s weird feathery coat that matches her bf’s shirt (you know she’s supposed to be “too much” because she’s got big hoop earrings)

God, Jughead is next and I’m not gonna be able to handle it

OH GOD IT’S SO MUCH WORSE THAN I THOUGHT

Alphabet City?! the piano?? the fucking East Coast Beat typewriter shit—the day robe? I’m—READING CLUBMASTERS? FORSYTHE???

OH GOD HE’S DATING ANOTHER WRITER (she has nice pants)

Jughead eats: “that place you like” is a HOT DOG STAND in the middle of SOME GRASS

I’ve seen Brick like thirty times: Jughead wears high-ankle light blue jeans, grey socks, and spectators that blend to create the illusion of wading boots. I’m going to commit a crime

Jughead doubts it: “So did Kerouac. And Hemingway. And Fitzgerald.” 

fuck yes I love Floundering Jughead, and his Pushy Agent who pronounces “career” like “Korea,” and the continuing tradition of Jughead getting kicked out of his house

I like Literary Grifter’s sweater

the Brat Pack, and most of the Rat Pack for that matter, were actors, but I assume RAS couldn’t resist the rhyme 

I was 100% afraid we were about to learn Cora was an uncomfortably-young undergrad

the musical cue as she reaches into her bag is absolutely as if she’s taking out a gun, and it might as well be! it’s the scariest thing in NYC: an unpublished manuscript

showrunners doing a classic I Love Lucy job partially concealing Vanessa Morgan’s pregnancy via medium close-ups, draping black clothes

Cheryl slowly turning to ask if doesn’t she look okay 10/10 icon

Cheryl’s pins: she has either a tiny spider or maybe a tick

Cheryl’s sheaths: the lacy red thing, amazing

why is Cheryl’s left hand gloved?

Cheryl’s a chaos angel from hell: Cheryl’s going to forge a Rembrandt, which unfortunately means she’s my favorite person on the planet (she does not look happy about doing this)

btw is Nana Rose an Immortal?

please tell me about Toni’s eyelashes

EXTREMELY HAUNTED DOLL?!

“Damn good coffee”: Archie’s earnest “Where are people gonna sit for the bus?” slayed me

fuck YEAH Ghoulies party house! terrible music but really good skull spray paint art

Jug looks LOW lol

Veronica’s blouse + buttons, impeccable

I’m writing a scene where it’s gay.: Tabitha/Squeaky

the hellscape semi’s red backlighting and its skeleton’s red eyes

I like Linette’s glossy bomber!

the trucker who’s about to kill her can’t also be the Trash Bag Killer….truckers have to stick to too much of a schedule….but he could be Betty’s meandering serial

I loved this episode

NEXT WEEK: Archie brings the FBI down on some people paying their rent :(

[chunhua-s]

ok i’m a barista and like could you write like a coffee shop thing with suna for me pls 🥺 (I love him and his tsundere ass 😤)

coffee au 2/2 on the way 😌✨ please i absolutely adore this au — peachy’s request was the first time i’ve written for it but like.... there’s so much space to make atmosphere for that au and it’s just so cute 🥺 i hope you’ll like what i have for your request — when i read you’re a barista i immediately got an idea in my head for you and suna 💕 i’m not entirely sure i got him down right tbh.... i’m more than nervous? cause honestly i never even thought of him too much before? but i always got the feeling that you could just relax around him, you know? like silences are never uncomfortable with him, you can just be with him and unwind, you never get worn out from talking with him. personally he seems like a sort of safe haven where you can forget about everything around you and just..... i dunno, exist? like he’ll let you be as you are and he’ll just chill with you. i hope i got that across here with him — but enough of my rambling, here’s your request, bb! and thanks so much for participating! and like always, i consulted my wives runa and peachy whenever i got stuck! i have next to no experience with cafes save for dunkin’ donuts and the cafe vlogs that come up on my yt feed every now and then... i hope i did it all some justice!

THE SUN THAT SHINES ON EARTH ➽ SUNA RINTAROU x READER

genre: fluff, mutual pining

au: coffeeshop

warnings: none!

you are the brightest part of suna’s life.

he thinks that you’re as sweet as the vanilla bean frappuccino he watches you make, your smile like the caramel that you so carefully drizzle over white foam. your eyes are alight with a brilliance that warms him up better than the iced americano that he always gets. and when your eyes find his from across the counter, he feels his heart skip a beat and his breath hitch in his throat.

you’re just too beautiful.

“suna!” you greet him as if he somehow made your day brighter, grinning at him as you quickly began bustling around to grab a cup without him even giving his order — you’d long since learned the exact way he orders his drink that your motions were almost automatic. “same thing today, right?”

your voice sounds like a distant lullaby, like the gentle rustling of leaves on a cool summer wind that washes over him and runs its fingers through his hair so endearingly. he can’t help the smile that touches his lips as he leans against the counter, eyes lidded as he watches you move about. your question is answered with a soft hum, and if you try and focus, you could imagine the sound of it right by your ear; you lose yourself inside an illusion of slender arms wrapped around your waist and your head leaning against his chest. the drip of the coffee shot from the machine is what tethers you to reality.

“hey, um...” the words are hesitant on suna’s lips, he licks them once to get rid of the dry feeling in his mouth when you glance up at him for a brief second with your shining eyes and you show him that smile once more — it only lasts a second, but it’s enough to send his mind into overdrive with thoughts of you. he inhales softly and looks down at his fingers; they fiddle together as if they weave together a story he can’t even begin to decipher. “we’re having a game coming up this sunday.”

when he glances back at you, he finds you pouring the coffee shot into a medium-sized cup filled with iced water; the brown liquid swirls on its descent, mixes and blends until its colour fills the cup in its entirety. you’re so careful in your actions, never once spilling or making a mess, and suna can’t help but think that it’s admirable how much care you put into preparing your drinks. it’s as if you give to each of your customers a part of your spirit, departing unto them a kind of innocent joy that takes its home with wandering souls and guides them to a safe place in your cafe. he doesn’t know that, for him, you make sure to pour your heart in every iced americano you make for him.

the sound of the ice stirring around inside the cup is nearly lost under the chatter of college students and working office people, but your voice rings out to him like the chiming of bells. “oh?” your hand presses down on the plastic cover, the ice inside rattles a little. as you’re turning back to him, you reach out to grab a small cup holder and a straw. “are you nervous?” as you take in his chilled expression and the barely there smile that crease his lips, you think to yourself that suna rintarou doesn’t seem like the kind of person who gets nervous. if you could hear the loud thumping of his heart inside his chest, or see the faintest hint of red that paint the tip of his ears, you would think otherwise. suna rintarou is nervous — but it isn’t the game that causes his pulse to quicken beneath his skin as you hand him his drink.

suna thinks — really thinks about your question, and as you mirror his leaned posture across the marble countertop, you can’t help but notice the way his eyelashes brush against his skin, the way the sunlight kisses him so softly and embraces him in her arms. it’s a helpless thought that hits you when you wish to do the same. when he finally glances up to find your eyes trained on him, you realize just how close the both of you stand — breathing in the other’s space, where the smell of coffee loses itself on peppermint and hints of strawberry. you feel the urge to brush strands of black hair from his face, to caress his cheek with a familiarity that could only belong to a lover’s touch. when he exhales, you feel his breath brush softly against your skin, and as your world stills and your heart sings to you a lullaby of calm and tranquility, you realize where the smell of peppermint comes from.

“not really,” he finally answers on a quiet huff, not daring to move away lest he should disturb the bubble that’s settled around the two of you; lest the meadows he sees in your eyes should vanish on fluttering petals and lose themselves on the wind. now that he stands so closely to you, he lets himself dance on liquid courage, surged by the patient smile you give to him and the bit of your spirit that latches on to his wandering heart.

“do you wanna come and watch?”

heavens above, the way your smile stretches into a toothy grin is so pure and innocently joyous, that suna’s heart does backflips inside his chest. it’s as sweet as the oreo cake that he knows you love to eat on your break, enticing like the aroma of coffee beans that cling so closely to your person.

“sure!” you’re so enthusiastic in your acceptance that it almost doesn’t feel as if he’s merely asking you to come watch him play at a volleyball game. the way your eyes sparkle under fairy lights, the way your entire image glows like a second sun, it’s almost as if he asks you to run away with him, to disappear beneath the stars and follow the trail of fairy dust that litters the night sky.

you are the brightest part of suna’s life, and he thinks to himself that he wants nothing more than to get lost with you in a place far away.

davi hits 200 followers — haikyuu!! au writing event! 💕

taglist: @aiiishiiiteru @bootylikepeachy @tsumue

send an ask to be added!

[chipsfics]

Part 6 1/2 - Doubles Therapy

Half of part 6! The second half is coming soon ;)

Rated: PG (for swearing and heavy themes)

~~~~

One morning, the sun rose exceptionally orange, filtering through the leaves and harsh through the windows of the hotel. Yinyang was awoken abruptly by a ray of sunshine peaking out from behind the nearby mountains and hitting him directly on the face- He blinked and wrinkled up his face. Another morning... Yang cursed under his breath and turned away from the window. Through squinted eyes, though, he saw his roommate, the Cherries, place what looked like a small brochure onto his bedside table silently. Before they could process what just happened, the Cherries were out the door. What in the...?

After a couple minutes of resting, trying to wake up- Yinyang heaved himself out of bed and stretched their arms towards the ceiling. He reached over and inspected the paper that the Cherries gave him- It read in big, blocky font:

"DOUBLES THERAPY GROUP"

Yinyang stared at it a couple seconds before sniffing and opening up the brochure. 

"Today, 3:30 PM - Hotel OJ event hall B Any and all objects who are 2 or more connected and/or merged are invited to talk about their experiences."

Yinyang read it about 4 times before they placed it back onto the table, thinking. 

"I don't... We don't need therapy." Yang growled under his breath.

"I think Cherries gave that to us just cause we're, y'know..." Yin said. "I don't think they meant any offense. And... I think we kind of do."

"You might. I'm doing fine," Yang said. Yin furrowed his brow at his other half. 

"Anyway, let's go down to the kitchen."

"Fine. But are we going to show up today?" Yin said. 

"Not if i can help it. I've got plans," Yang said. 

"Plans? That I don't know about?" Yin said, standing up off the bed.

"You don't know everything about me." Yang said.

"Yes I do," Yin continued.

"No you don't." Yang contested.

"Yes I do!" Yin exclaimed.

"No you don't." Yang stood his ground.

"We're literally fused!" Yin said, waving his hand.

"Dumbass, we've been split before," Yang said, leading them out the door and towards the elevator.

"For like 20 minutes." Yin continued, talking as they walked.

"Well you still don't know EVERYTHING." Yang said.

"Name one thing that I don't know about you." Yin said.

"I can't, cause then you'd know it and it'd defeat the purpose." Yang responded.

"That doesn't even make sense!" Ding. Yin pressed the elevator button. 

"You don't make sense," They went down and turned the corner towards the snack cabinet- Their usual route. They usually ate a chocolate chip granola bar for breakfast- Because it was just healthy enough for Yin to tolerate and just sweet enough for Yang to tolerate. When they reached up and grabbed the box, it was surprisingly light- They shook it around and there didn't seem to be anything inside of it. Yinyang sighed and threw away the cardboard box in the small trash can in the corner of the walk-in cabinet. They trudged their way out of the snack cabinet, getting even more upset. It was around 11:45- A thought hit him. He wondered if there was any coffee left in the breakfast bar.

Yin hated coffee for how unhealthy it was- plus the old, worn out coffee maker in the hotel looked so.... Dirty. The wear and tear on the machine didn't help the already skunky smell of cheap coffee that filled the air every morning. But, beggars can't be choosers, and they were already making a beeline for the breakfast bar. Yinyang scanned the room for the old coffee machine, still steaming and half-full of coffee from earlier that morning. Yinyang sleepily grabbed a mug off the rack and poured themselves a cup- As they were about to exit the other side, they paused as they saw someone they didn't recognise spreading cream cheese on a bagel. 

They were a pair of blue swimming goggles with a small orange stripe on the outside plastic- one arm on one side, and another arm on the other. There was one face on each of their glass panel "eyes"- and when they noticed Yinyang standing and staring, they awkwardly glanced over and quickly glanced back. Hurry, say something!

"Ummm... Hi." Yinyang said. "I don't believe we've met."

"Oh! Um. Hello, we're Goggles." They turned around, and the two faces spoke in unison.

"Were you on Inanimate Insanity? I don't remember competing with you." Yinyang continued.

"Umm. Cutting right to the chase, huh?" One of Goggles' faces took a bite out of the bagel and chewed while the other spoke. "Nahh, we were never on II. But we're friends with the Cherries, and they invited me to the doubles therapy circle thing going on this afternoon. We live pretty far away, and we didn't know how long it'd take to drive here. I guess we overestimated, haha... but your pal OJ said we could chill out here until the event officially starts."

"Huh... cool. Wait, you drove here?" Yinyang continued. "Its been forever since i've driven or even been in a car."

"Oh, we don't drive a car." Goggles said, and failed to elaborate.

"Really? Then what do you drive?" Yinyang said, his interest peaked.

"We drive a tandem motorcycle." Goggles said, smiling. 

"Tandem motorcycle?" Yinyang said.

"Yeah! It's like a tandem bicycle, but a motorcycle." Goggles continued.

"Huh." Yinyang said, taking a sip of their coffee (which was quickly cooling down). "By the way, we're Yinyang."

"Oh, we know. We've seen you before! On TV. Man, you were one of the funniest characters! We loved the bit about the vending machine." Goggles said, and swallowed. One of the arms passed the bagel to the other face, and they took a bite and started chewing while the other face smiled at them.

"Funny?... Bit?" Yinyang looked puzzled and a bit offended. There was a short but stuffy silence.

"Anyway, I assume you two are coming too? To the therapy circle?" Goggles continued. 

"Yes!" Yin said. "No," Yang contested. "Maybe." Yin added. 

"Well, we'd be happy to see you there!" Goggles said, and finished off their breakfast. "See ya around!" They said, walking off, seemingly in a hurry. What a weirdo. 

Yinyang sipped their coffee. The interaction made them want to go to this event even less... But somehow even more at the same time. That weird sort of curiosity. 

Yinyang took his mug into the game room, where Tissues was already sitting on the floor eating out of a box of cereal as if it were crackers, watching the tv. 

"Oh, hai guyse. I've been waiting for you!" Tissues said, and shoveled a handful of cereal into his mouth and crunched loudly. "What do you wanna play first? I think that we can make it past level 5 in Space Bubble: Galaxy Quest today." Tissues said the title of the video game in a commercial-esque voice. 

"Hmmm.. Yeah! I think so too." Yin said. "I'm gonna blast the hell out of those aliens!" Yang added.

Tissues laughed and loaded in the cartridge, handing the other controller to the two. He booted up the game, selected two-player, and started on their old routine. This was a particularly difficult game to beat- especially the platforming aspect. Neither of them were very good at it. After a couple minutes of playing, Tissues occasionally taking breaks on loading screens to eat another handful of cereal (Yinyang doing the same with his coffee), Yinyang broke the conversational hum.

"Tissues?" Yinyang said.

"Yeah?" Tissues answered, still preoccupied with his game.

"Have you ever been stuck in a situation where... where you want to do something adventurous, but you aren't sure if you should?" He said, and Tissues quickly brought his full attention back to the conversation.

"Hmm. Yeah... I usually go for staying at home. But that's just the kind of person I am," Tissues said. "Oh- Uhh, Here's a good example. When i was given the offer to join Inanimate Insanity like... a million years ago... I thought about it for a long time and I figured "why not." I.. Well, i didn't do so well in the umm. Actual show, but im glad i said yes, because i got to meet you guyse." Tissues said, setting down the controller, as they were between levels.

"Huh." Yinyang said, and smiled. "Thanks, Tissues."

"Now... let's go on to level 6," Tissues smirked, and there was a sweet, knowing silence.

Once they ran out of lives for the 3rd or 4th time, Tissues paused and heaved himself up onto the couch in order to see better, leaving the half-empty cereal box on the ground. He nuzzled oddly close to Yinyang... that or he was just sliding towards them because their weight weighed down the cushion. Either way, it was kind of nice. He was very warm. I guess it distracted him, because before he knew it, they game over'd for a 5th time.

~~~~

3:30 PM. Yinyang walked past the pale orange double doors of event hall A and stood silently in front of event hall B, thoughts racing. Should they? Shouldn't they? Their two halves started to blend together, to the point where it was kind of disorienting. Yinyang took a deep breath. Maybe just for a little while? He thought on what Tissues had told him earlier that day- Adventure, new opportunities. Who knows, they might even learn something. 

What's the worst that could happen?

Yinyang pushed open the double doors and leaned in, the medium sized event room mostly vacant except for the aforementioned Goggles character, the Cherries, and one other object- What appeared to be a traffic light with 3 faces, one on each of the different colors. He was attempting to stay quiet- But Goggles spotted him and waved, causing the other objects' attention to be directed on him.

"Yinyang! You made it." Goggles' two faces said in perfect unison. "We were starting to think you wouldn't show."

"Welcome, welcome!" The green face on the traffic light said. 

"Take a seat, I guess." The yellow face on the traffic light suddenly dinged on and spoke. 

Yinyang sighed and walked through the door, taking a seat on one of the folding chairs they'd set up.

"Alright. Now that everyone's here, should we start?" one of the Cherries spoke up. Everyone looked around and nodded a sort of awkward universal agreement, and the speaking cherry clapped their hands together. 

"Alright! We should go around the room and introduce ourselves, and explain a bit about ourselves. We'll go first." The Cherries smiled. "We're Cherries, and we're twins connected by a stem. We think exactly alike, although Right Cherries handles creative tasks, while I, Left Cherries, handles logical tasks." The Cherries elaborated, the right cherry nodding along to what the left cherry was saying.  "Alright, you next, Goggles!" 

"We're Goggles," Goggles said in perfect unison. "We share the same mind. Sometimes we talk seperately and bounce ideas off each other or tell each other jokes, but most of the time we're in perfect sync. Alright, you next, Traffic Light!" 

The green traffic light dinged on. "We're traffic light! I'm Green, and I'm happy and positive." The yellow traffic light dinged on. "I'm uhh.. I'm Yellow, and I'm indifferent or whatever." The red traffic light dinged on. "I'M RED AND I'M WAY BETTER THAN THOSE OTHER TWO IDIOTS!"

Yinyang chuckled. "Yknow, he kind of reminds me of you, Yang." Yin thought. "Shut up," Yang glared at his other half. 

Cherries sighed. "Alright, you next Yinyang!"

"SHUT UP!" The red traffic light shouted.

"See?" Yin thought, and Yang huffed. After a short silence, Yinyang realized that everyone was staring at him. 

"Oh. Umm. I'm Yin, and he's Yang." Yin said. "I'm good and pure, and he's.... well, he's passionate. We don't always get along, but we need each other. We're two halves of the same whole." Yang didn't feel like arguing with that, because as much as he disliked himself, it was true. 

"Something me and Yinyang have in common was that we were both on Inanimate Insanity season 2," The cherries spoke up. "It was... A little traumatizing. I think i speak for the both of us," The Cherries laughed. "But i had fun while it lasted!" 

"It was weird to have our... whole thing broadcast on live TV like that. It felt like they were making fun of us," Yinyang said. "And when we split... It was really stressful." Yin said. "Well, I thought it was fun. But yeah..." Yang continued.

"I know what it's like to have people make fun of you," The Goggles spoke up.

The yellow traffic light sighed. "Us too, especially Green and Red." 

"Mm. I think we've all been there," The Cherries said, paused, and then perked up when they thought of something. "Wait, Goggles, have you ever been on a bus, or in a movie theater, and you couldn't find two seats for the both of you?" 

"All the time!" Goggles gasped. "Wait, on a similar topic- Have you ever been separated from each other somehow?"

The Cherries looked a bit uncomfortable. "Yes, once... It was kind of scary." Cherries said. "We felt... incomplete. After a little while Right Cherries started to-" The Left Cherry shuddered. "Decompose? I dunno. Disconnected from the stem, they just started rotting. It was really freaky!"

"Woah. That sounds rough." Goggles said. "Our bond is pretty strong, but one time we snapped in two. It was kind of like stapling our brain in half? Unfortunately we died like 2 minutes later, and it was a huge relief once we were recovered and still connected."

"Thats heavy. I think Yinyang can understand, too." The Cherries looked over at the two.

"Oh. Well, yeah... It was. Stressful is all I can say... I just felt incomplete." Yin said. "I could have made it on my own." Yang was completely deadpan. 

The two got really quiet. After that, they kind of tuned out the conversation. They were sitting in the metal chair, weirdly uncomfortable, in a dizzy thought jumble that made them feel like their brain was being scrambled. The other objects' voices got really muffled and far away- and it was hard to form a coherent thought. Some kind of all-consuming bad feeling. Like a shadow suddenly cast over them. What was this feeling?

Yinyang snapped back to reality when he was touched gently on the shoulder by Goggles' right side- He yelped and grabbed their wrist and squeezed it, hard. Once he realized what he'd done, he jumped back and apologized profusely.

"Oww, What the hell?!" The Goggles said, slightly out of sync. "What's wrong with you, man! The session is over. Traffic Light and Cherries are already gone,"

"Oh god, I'm sorry, I don't know what came over me." Yin said, "Don't touch me." Yang growled. 

The Goggles sighed. "Ugh... Just... Man... You've been quiet the entire session. Is something wrong?"

"I don't..." Yinyang clenched his teeth, hard. "I just... I.... I'm... We're.." He opened and closed his fists.

"Whatever. Just don't do it again, ok? Jesus." The Goggles got up and put away their chair. 

Once he was sure that he was alone again, Yinyang cried in the empty event hall until he didn't feel like someone anymore. What was happening to him? How did it get this bad so fast?

~~~~

[radramblog]

Halo Through its Guns: Reach

The year is 2010. Bungie has one final game left on their contract with Microsoft before they can make something that isn’t Halo. They were going to make it count.

Reach is the last Halo game that Bungie developed, and the latest non-numbered entry in the series that’s still a First-Person Shooter (unless Infinite dropped the 6?). It came at a time where FPS games were at the height of their popularity, when they dominated living rooms and the fledgling days of e-sports, before the rise of MOBAs and mobile games and the like.

The game is a reflection of all of this. It’s a mirror to both the franchise past and those others that sprung up in its wake. It’s a deliberately different game in story, aesthetic, and play to the others around it. And it’s proof that Bungie’s developers as a whole really loved working on this series, seeing as they put so much into their final entry.

As per usual, I think you can use the weapons as a lens into the game. As such, this is Halo: Reach through its gun- the Grenade Launcher.

In order to talk about Halo: Reach, we have to talk about Call of Duty. I know, I don’t like it either.

2009 and 2010 were the height of what could be referred to as the Halo/Call of Duty rivalry. Halo 3 was still huge, ODST had just released, with the franchise arguably at its peak of popularity- but Call of Duty was faring similarly, with the incredibly popular Modern Warfare releasing the same year as Halo 3 and the series sill riding the high of Modern Warfare 2 in 2009. Moreover, Halo: Reach and Call of Duty: Black Ops were set for release within the same few months of 2010. In effect, if you were, like me, a preteen middle class dude who had touched an Xbox controller before, you had to have an opinion about which one is better. Lines were drawn in the sand over which you preferred (with the other clearly being dirt), though CoD had the advantage of not being a console exclusive.

To those unfamiliar with shooty mans games, the two franchises look incredibly similar, but this isn’t especially true. Call of Duty is what many refer to as a “twitch shooter”, with an increased emphasis on reflexes and map awareness. Engagements between players are typically much shorter owing to their increased fragility, with much more weapons being able to kill in one or two hits. A melee is always a kill in CoD, whereas in Halo that’s only true if you catch someone from behind.

In place of the weapon sandbox from more classic shooters (like Halo), the CoD games of the era featured a huge range of customization options in the form of Loadouts. This kind of completely changes how weapons are treated in the series- since you can spawn in with any weapon in the game, the idea of a “power weapon” cannot exist for game balance, and so traditionally powerful weapons like sniper rifles and grenade launchers are significantly weaker than they’d be in other games. This, combined with the restriction that the guns have to be, you know, real actual guns that exist, makes the guns all kind of blend together. Most of the time, the differences are statistical rather than functional, and minor at that. I’m not saying this is an inherently worse way to go about things, but it’s very different, and something that will likely determine how much you enjoy either franchise.

This brings us to Reach. Bungie was very obviously aware of Call of Duty’s design at this point- they’d already been outsold by Activision twice- but I’m not sure anyone was expecting them to so deliberately change the way their own series works as a result. While obviously the game is still Halo, the way the gameplay has been facelifted in Reach is a clear reflection of the influence of the franchise’s primary competitors.

The biggest, most clear divide is in the massive complexity increases with weapons both old and new. Especially seeing as Reach heralded the final, permanent removal of dual wielding from the franchise, individual weapons were enabled to be more differentiated as a result. Looking at the new weapons from the game, only one of them could be argued as “basic”, and that’s the DMR- yet that’s also a major change, as it replaces the series’s now iconic Battle Rifle, having a longer range and scope to allow the Magnum to reclaim some of its former glory at medium/close range now that it’s been buffed and scoped once again.

I shit you not, every single one of these weapons is fucking odd. The Plasma Repeater’s fire rate slows as heats up, making it worse in an extended firefight, but you can press the reload button to vent it out it a pinch. The Needle Rifle features the Supercombine effect from the Needler on a longer range weapon, with the 3-bodyshot explosion making it much stronger in the hands of less experienced players. The Plasma Launcher echoes the Spartan Laser, but fires homing Plasma Grenades and allows versatility in how much you charge it up. The Beam Rifle has been replaced by the Focus Rifle, a long-range…Sentinel Beam? I dunno I’m not a huge fan of the Focus Rifle actually.

And then there’s the Grenade Launcher. The most obvious comparison to Call of Duty the game has. Modern Warfare 2 had an underbarrel Grenade Launcher available as an option for many primary weapons, with its quick switch option and instant-kill potential earning it the nickname of the “N00b Tube”. Bungie, on the other hand, nicknamed their Grenade Launcher the “Pro Pipe” and it shows in the gameplay. It has effectively two firing modes, requires very precise aim and timing to use most effectively, can shut down vehicles, and most importantly won’t be one-shotting anything anytime soon. It can be used to flush out enemies behind corners, as a trip-mine in objective-based gamemodes, and if you’re good, can even work very well against airborne opponents.

Speaking of airborne opponents, the Grenade Launcher interacts very interesting with most of the game’s new addition of Armor Abilities. Just about every gamemode has multiple available to spawn with, and they all work great in different situations. Unfortunately, just about all of them paled in usage compared to the Sprint ability and Jetpack- Halo not having an increased speed option was a deliberate choice, which Sprint really messes with, making it typically the best option. And Jetpack is so utterly insane for mobility, especially when you’re playing a game with powerful weapons in far-off spots. The Armor Abilities replaced the Equipment from 3, and I’m ultimately not sure how I feel about it. They did, however, contribute to something else, which we’ll get to in a moment.

Before that, I want to talk about factions. Much of Halo 2’s weaponry was dedicated to parallelising the UNSC and Covenant loadouts, to make going between Chief and the Arbiter easier, and 3 continued this with the Brute weapons. By contrast, Reach goes out of its way to deparallelise the two factions, deliberately making the two play slightly differently. You can still pair them up (though some of those are kinda a stretch), but there’s enough difference between each pairing that each weapon feels different, which especially makes playing as a Spartan or an Elite a subtly changed experience.

This is all (arguably) in service of what I’d call Reach’s crowing achievement- Invasion mode. It is the culmination of everything the game has to offer- an asymmetrical, objective-based gamemode with massive maps and incredibly complexity. The default loadouts are fairly basic, but as the game progresses, the power of each player’s equipment ramps up. The round-three loadouts are extremely cool, often letting you spawn with what would be considered a power weapon (albeit a more niche one like the Shotgun), each with a different Armor ability that suits its weaponry, and each forming a different role in an effective team. The Grenade Launcher gets to seriously shine as a part of the Grenadier loadout, particularly on Defense, as a tool to keep vehicles at bay, and the loadout’s Hologram ability lets you get an idea of enemy placement or movement so you can more effectively fire on out-of-sight targets.

Invasion is just such an incredible game mode. It perfectly suits the story and gameplay changes of Reach, and it is just really bloody fun. It has a scale that no other Halo Gamemode has managed to achieve, dwarfing even Big Team Battle. It lets you fully take advantage of everything the game has to offer, from weapons to abilities to vehicles to maps. As well, with Reach’s massively expanded gamemode customization and Forge map editor (with Forge World being a much greater canvas to work with than Sandbox ever was), it can and has been expanded and played with for years, being arguably the game-mode with the most potential for variety of all of them.

This complexity is what made Reach great. It’s what set it apart from its competitors, and what sets it apart from the other games within its own franchise. Sure, it doesn’t have dual wielding, but it really doesn’t need it. Bungie set out to make their last Halo game a memorable one, and its inarguable that with Reach, they succeeded.

Unfortunately, it’s also a level of complexity we’d never see again. While Reach was deliberately different from its contemporaries, the next games in the series would instead fall further in line with them. Join me next week, as we enter the 343 era of Halo.

…I’m going to need to find a way to play Halo 5 real quick, aren’t I?

[tipsycad147]

Sage advice: An illustrated guide to smudging herbs

by Michelle Gruben

Once upon a time, there were only three kinds of smudge sticks in most witchy shops: Small, medium, and large.  These days, you can choose from a vast array of smudging herbs, each with a different energy, aroma, and cultural history.

In this article, I’ll walk you through the plants that are most commonly used for smudging. (We’ll limit it to smudges that are derived from woods and leaves. Resin incenses are divine—but that’s a topic for another article.)

The variety of smudging herbs is incredible. But you’ll also notice some similarities. First, most of them come from the leaf and stem parts of bushes and small trees. (Fruits and flowers make wonderful sachets, baths, and teas, but lose all their charm when burned.) Second, most smudging plants grow in desert and mountain regions, where the soil is poor. Plants in these climates tend to be short and shrubby, and they rely on fragrant oils as a way to keep insects and other animals from munching on them to get to their water and nutrients.

You’ll also notice that many excellent smudging plants come from the genus Salvia (true sages). There are several hundred distinct species of Salvia, but only the most aromatic varieties are used for smudging. Many other varieties grow wild, or are cultivated as hardy ornamentals. Sage’s reputation as a beneficial plant is ancient and well-deserved. The Romans named the plant Salvia after the Latin verb meaning to save, redeem, or heal.

So where can you find these delicious-smelling plants? Well, just about any New Age store will have smudges for sale. (White Sage, at least—you may have to search online for some of the more exotic varieties.) Also try health food grocers, yoga studios, artisan and farmer’s markets. You may even want to consider growing smudging plants in your garden, or gathering them in the wild.

A quick warning: The plants listed below are not harmful or dangerous under normal circumstances. Still, they can cause irritation and allergic reactions in some people. If you have asthma or respiratory problems, burning anything may not be great for your health. (Consult a doctor or herbalist if you have concerns.) Burn smudges in a well-ventilated area—coughing and choking on the smoke will not enhance their effects! Always be mindful of fire safety, especially indoors and in dry climates.

Finally, please don’t rely on herbal remedies as a substitute for medical treatment. When I describe an herb as healing, I mean only that it will contribute to your general well-being—not that it will cure cancer, toenail fungus, or anything in between. I always recommend that you store herbs in labeled packages, out of the reach of children and pets.

White Sage (Salvia apiana—also known as Bee Sage, California Sage, Sacred Sage)

For many people, “smudging” means one thing only—White Sage. (Its Latin name refers to its main pollinator, the honeybee.) White Sage is the bread and butter of any smudging kit. Versatile and effective, it’s suitable for most any smudging ritual—cleansing, healing, protection, meditation, and so on. When mixed with other herbs, it makes a wonderful base for a custom smudging blend.

White Sage grows wild across the American Southwest in bushy clumps. (The strongest-smelling product comes from the western fringes of the Mojave and Sonoran deserts.) The plant has been gathered for thousands of years by Native Americans, particularly the Chumash. It is regarded as a sacred plant—an important source of food, medicine, and benevolent Spirit.

White Sage is herbaceous, sweet, and slightly astringent.  It's rather similar to Eucalyptus, but more complex. Some people say it smells like Marijuana when burned. (To me, burning White Sage just smells like burning White Sage—but the similarity is something to keep in mind if you’re going to use it in public.) The smell of White Sage is so strong that just rubbing its fuzzy leaves between your fingers is enough to release the scent.

Almost all of the White Sage on the market comes from California. Most of it is wild-gathered and hand-tied by producers large and small. There really isn’t much difference in quality between brands. However, if it matters to you, you may want to seek out a producer who gathers Sage with the proper prayers and observances. It’s even possible to buy White Sage that is harvested by American Indians according to traditional practices, just as they have done for centuries.

Because it is the most widely available smudge, you can buy White Sage in many sizes and formats. Small Sage wands (3-4 inches) are ideal for small spaces, solitary practice, or to keep handy in a ritual kit. The big boys (8 inches and up) are best reserved for outdoor use and large group rituals—unless a wailing smoke detector is part of your space-clearing strategy! You can also buy the loose leaves and stems by the ounce or pound. This lets you control the amount you use, and allows for blending with other herbs.

White Sage is affected by periodic droughts, meaning it has years in which the harvest is smaller. The price and quality fluctuate accordingly. Still, there’s no need to pester your local New Age emporium about the vintage year of their stock. Freshness isn’t a huge consideration, either. The volatile oils in dried Sage will dissipate somewhat over time—but I’ve used Sage sticks that were hiding in my altar cupboard for years and no one was the wiser. Buy it, it’ll burn just fine.

Common Sage (Salvia officianalis—also known as Garden Sage, Common Sage, Green Sage, or Kitchen Sage)

Many a hard-up Witch has wondered if it’s okay to use culinary Sage—the kind that goes in turkey stuffing and breakfast sausage—for smudging. The answer is yes! Common Sage is a close relative of White Sage, and has many of the same beneficial properties as its superstar cousin, White Sage. Common Sage originates in Europe, and its medicinal and folkloric uses date back to the Middle Ages. For those involved in the European traditions of Witchcraft, it may make more sense to smudge with Common Sage than one of the North American varieties.

Besides, not everybody has a metaphysical store that they can rush to for supplies, and a good Witch knows how to improvise. The main advantage of Common Sage is that it grows in many climates, and is readily available in fresh and dried form at most supermarkets. Will Sage ward off bad vibes when used in food? I don’t know, but I’ll take another slice of Sage Derby while I mull it over.

Not everyone agrees that the smell of burning Common Sage is pleasant. A little goes a long way. Also, the herb must be quite dry to smolder effectively. If burning Sage doesn't work for you, remember that you can still use the plant to cleanse and bless your space. Add the essential oil to sprays and washes, or put the leaves in sachets, witch bottles, or mojo bags.

Blue Sage (Salvia clevelandii or Artemisia tridentata—also known as New Mexico Sage, Desert Sage, Grandmother Sage)

Blue Sage is a hardy bush found in the deserts of the Southwest. It’s named for its abundant blue flowers, but the leaves also have a blue-ish cast. It has thin leaves and a fragrance that is both herbaceous and floral, similar to Lavender.

A close relative of White Sage, Blue Sage is also good for healing and cleansing rituals.  Its soothing, relaxing smell can be used to aid meditation, or burned simply for enjoyment. It’s not as pungent as White Sage, and is more agreeable to some folks who find the strong, bracing scent of White Sage overpowering. You can find Blue Sage in smudge sticks and in loose-leaf form.

Another pale sagebrush, Artemisia tridentata, is pictured above. It goes by the trade name "Blue Sage," but is not a member of the Salvia clan.

Lavender Sage (Salvia leucophylla or Salvia mellifera)—also know as Gray Sage, Purple Sage, Wild Lavender)

Yet another far-flung member of the Salvia family, Lavender Sage is a sun-loving plant that grows in southern coastal California. It’s named for its clusters of purple flowers—the leaves are rounded, green, and fuzzy like Common Sage. (They darken to gray when dried.) Lavender Sage is unrelated to the flower Lavender (Lavandula angustifolia). However, it physically resembles Lavender (especially when in bloom) and has a similar clean, flowery fragrance. As if that wasn’t screwy enough, some artisan producers do use true Lavender as an ingredient in smudges, and they don’t always make it clear which plant is meant. Lavender Sage is known for its calming, peaceful, and sedating effects. It inspires love and relieves anxiety. Because of its irresistible scent and natural beauty, a Lavender Sage smudge is a great choice for your spells of attraction. Lavender Sage is often combined with White Sage for a killer duo. Like a 2-in-1 shampoo, this pair will cleanse and condition in a single step! Black Sage (Salvia mellifera, Artemisia nova, Artemisia douglasiana and others—also known as Mugwort, Magical Sage, Black Sagebrush, Dream Weed)

Used to encourage dreams and visions, Black Sage is an herb of introspection and inner healing. When burned before bedtime, it aids in restful sleep and pleasant dreams. Black Sage is used for astral travel, shamanic journeying, and for protection during such excursions. One Pagan priest I know begins group trance workings by smudging the participants with Black Sage. Black Sage is like the mystical, shifty-acting cousin of the Sage clan—so shifty, in fact, that people can’t even agree on what plant it is! There are a few different products sold under the name “Black Sage.” I found this out when I noticed that the Black Sage I ordered for the store looked different from month to month. I called my supplier, and he confessed that the exact composition of the smudge changes based on availability. A true Sage, Salvia mellifera has long leaves that are dark green on top and silver underneath. It is found in the mountains of the West Coast from California north through British Columbia. The plant can be difficult to identify because it resembles other species. The leaves only darken dramatically in times of drought. To add to the confusion, there are several cultivars, and Black Sage readily hybridizes with Purple Sage and Blue Sage plants. Other Black Sage products come from shrubs in the genus Artemisia. They are commonly called sagebrushes, but these dark-green plants are more closely related to the Daisy than to true Sage. When dried, Artemisia tridentata has a lighter, straw-brown color, and may also have small crowded blossoms on its stalks. But Artemisia douglasiana (shown in the photo above) is leafier and easy to mistake for dark Sage such as Salvia mellifera. Why does it matter? The metaphysical properties of both plants are similar, but Artemisia-based smudges may also contain small amounts of thujone. This mildly trance-inducing compound is best-known as the active ingredient in traditional absinthe liqueur. Black Sage contains less thujone than the common herbs Mugwort (Artemisia vulgaris) and Wormwood (Artemisia absinthium). Black Sage won’t cause you to “trip” or wildly hallucinate. At most, it may intensify your efforts at visualization and vivify your dreams. Even so, some people (like pregnant women and straight-edgers) should avoid using Black Sage. Desert Sage (Artemisia tridentata or Artemisia californica [pictured]—Desert Magic, Mountain Sage, Grey Sage, New Mexico Sage, Sagebrush Smudge)

This aromatic shrub thrives in the windswept deserts of the Santa Fe/Taos area. It has skinny, branched leaves and a light brown color. Desert Sage shares some common nicknames with Blue Sage, and the two plants are sometimes sold interchangeably. (Are you noticing a pattern here?) Desert Sage has a warm herbaceous aroma that is a bit peppery (think Bay leaves or Mint tea). It is used for cleansing and purifying, protection, and inner strength. It is said to bring pleasant thoughts and relieve headaches and anxiety. Desert Sage is available both loose and in smudge sticks. It blends well with most other smudging herbs. Desert Sage produces a dense, straw-like bundle that is sometimes sprinkled with resin incenses for an especially rich combination. Desert Sage laced with Dragon’s Blood or Copal is just delicious! Dakota Sage (Artemisia ludoviciana—Badlands Sage, Silver Wormwood, Old Man Sage, Silver King, Western Mugwort, Dakota White Sage)

Another Artemisia smudge, this one grows all over the badlands of South Dakota stretching all the way south to Louisiana. Dakota Sage is rarely found in commercial Sage products, but I’ve included it because it’s easily gathered in many places across the United States. The aroma and appearance of Dakota Sage is very similar to that of Desert Sage. However, the fragrance is usually less intense. Piñon Pine (Pinus edulis and others—also known as Pinyon Pine)

The Piñon Pine is a generous evergreen tree from the foothills of the American Southwest.  The nuts were an important food source for early Americans--these days, the tree is best known for stocking chimineas (Southwestern patio stoves). Piñon has a smooth, woodsy scent that's especially powerful, thanks to its high concentration of pine resin. Piñon is an excellent all-purpose smudge, and a capable stand-in for White Sage, if you prefer to avoid the latter. Its energy is cleansing, healing, and strengthening. Oh, and it repels insects, too. Cedar (Calocedrus decurrens [California Incense Cedar], and many other species)

Cedar is an ancient tree, one of the oldest beings still thriving on the Earth. Cedar trees look much the same as they did when dinosaurs roamed the land. Back when other trees were trying out those newfangled “leaves,” Cedar said “I’m good” and stayed with the tried and true. The smell of Cedar is woodsy and fresh. It recalls ancient forests, and invokes their protection and wisdom. Both the wood (in the form of chips or shavings) and the foliage make effective smudges.

Cedar smudges carry a medicine of protection. Cedar is often used to cleanse a home or apartment when first moving in, inviting unwanted spirits to leave and protecting a person, place or object from unwanted influences. Along with Rosemary and White Sage, Cedar is one of the most aggressively cleansing smudges you can choose. Juniper (Juniperus communis)

Juniper has a sweet and spicy "Christmas tree" fragrance and abundant blue berries.  Like Cedar, Juniper is probably one of the most ancient plants. Juniper is said to have a masculine, protective energy, and is used in spells of cleansing and prosperity. Juniper berries are popular in good luck charms, while the leaves are often used for smudging. Juniper is best used for blessing a new venture or dwelling, and inviting in abundance. Bearberry (Uva ursi)

Bearberry is a low-growing North American shrub in the Heather family.  As its name suggests, it is a favorite of foraging bears. It is used for smudging, animal magic, shape-shifting, and other shamanic work. Native Americans traditionally mix it with Tobacco leaf to create a ritual smoke blend (called kinnikinnick), said to carry prayers and bring visions. Sometimes the leaves come mixed with peppercorn-sized berries.  Don't throw these out—the Bear spirit is said to appreciate the offering. Rosemary (Rosmarinus officinalus)

A culinary herb with an assertive fragrance, this woody perennial may also be used for smudging. It clears negativity, inspires confidence, and invigorates the mind and body.

Some people prefer to avoid herbs associated with Native American cultures out of concerns about cultural appropriation. Rosemary is an Old World herb with a long history of use in incenses, and so makes a guilt-free alternative for Western practitioners. Sweetgrass (Hierochloe odorata or Anthoxanthum nitens—also known as Seneca Grass, Holy Grass, Vanilla Grass, Mary’s Grass, Bison Grass)

Sweetgrass is a long, fragrant grass that grows wild across portions of the American Great Plains. It's frequently braided or tied in bundles, then dried.

Sweetgrass is sacred to several Plains tribes. They have traditionally burned it to drive out evil and harm, and allow benevolent spirits to approach. Ancient lore states that Sweetgrass is the hair of the Earth Mother, and invokes love, kindness, and honesty.

A relative of American Sweetgrass was known in medieval Europe. Sheaves of the sweet-smelling grass were strewn across thresholds, especially of churches, where it would release a gentle aroma when trod upon.

Sweetgrass smells of fresh hay with hints of warm vanilla. It induces a mellow, almost soporific state when burned.  (It contains coumarin, which is thought to be mildly psychoactive.) Some say the proper way to burn Sweetgrass braids is to shave small portions off with a knife, allowing them to fall on hot coals. Yerba Santa (Eriodictyon glutinosum and Eriodictyon californicum—also known as Holy Herb, Mountain Balm, Consumptive’s Weed, Bear Weed)

Yerba Santa ("holy herb") is a sweet-smelling plant that grows in the arid hills of the Southwest.  It got its common name from Spanish monks who were impressed with its healing properties. Yerba Santa is burned to honor ancestors, increase psychic powers, and bring healing and protection. It is also a traditional remedy against coughing and many other ailments. Yerba Santa grows wild only in certain areas of California and Northern Mexico—a true regional treasure. Tobacco (Genus Nicotiana)

The health hazards of Tobacco are well-known, so much that its sacred uses have fallen by the wayside. Wild-growing and cultivated Tobacco had a place in the rituals of many Native American tribes. Aleister Crowley considered Tobacco a consummate herb of Mars. And it is said that Faeries particularly enjoy offerings of the stuff. (Along with other human vices, like whiskey and sweets!) Commercially packaged cigarettes are full of reconstituted crud, chemicals and additives that make them unsuitable for magickal use. If you’re going to burn tobacco ritually, the best option is loose tobacco leaves, but they aren’t easy to find. The next best thing might be a shredded pipe tobacco that is additive-free. Palo Santo (Bursera graveolens—also known as Holy Wood)

Palo Santo (or “Holy Wood”) is a sweet-smelling tropical wood that is a natural incense.  Palo Santo is said to clear out negative spirits and energies, increase relaxation, and bring joy and harmony to the home. It is in the family of trees that produces Frankincense and Myrrh, but is native only to Ecuador, Peru, and the Galapagos Islands. Its aroma is smooth, aromatic and spicy. (I think it smells a bit like gingerbread!) The holy reputation of Palo Santo dates back to the time of the Incas, who used it in their ceremonies of healing and cleansing. When the Spaniards arrived in South America, they couldn’t easily obtain their preferred church incenses, so they substituted the local equivalent. To this day, Palo Santo is used there for Catholic holy days and processions. Palo Santo comes from a slow-growing tree that is in danger of over-harvesting. Both Ecuador and Peru have laws on the books designed to protect this rare species. Reputable importers use only fallen limbs and strive to minimize waste. Sticks, chips and even sawdust are sold by the ounce, with the scraps being compressed into incense cones or distilled for their essential oil. Sticks of Palo Santo can be lit on one end and burned just like any other smudge stick, but in humid conditions charcoal may be required. The chips and powder are best burned over charcoal.

Mixed smudges

Sometimes you may want to use a smudge with multiple ingredients, combining the aromas and properties of two or more plants. Mixed smudges come in a huge array of combinations, some laced with resins or flowers—far too many to list.  A Black and White Sage smudge (pictured) combines the psychic openness granted by Black Sage with the protective qualities of White Sage. However, it's worth noting that in some Native American traditions, the Four Sacred Medicines (White Sage, Cedar, Tobacco, and Sweetgrass) are never mixed.

Hope you've found this tour of smudging herbs useful and enlightening. Happy smudging—and for godsakes, open a window!

https://www.groveandgrotto.com/blogs/articles/100896071-sage-advice-an-illustrated-guide-to-smudging-herbs

[itsblissfuloblivion]

Torch - Chapter 11: July

you asked for it, we give it to you, don’t be mad...

Ao3//FFnet

.

Harry thought he’d been through quite a series of unfortunate events throughout his relatively short life, some that’ve left him feeling embarrassed and in need to crawl into a hole and possibly die, and others that have left him a heartbeat away from turning rogue and going after Voldemort guns ablazing. But this, Harry comes to accept, is the worst so far.

Not only did six other people suddenly become acquainted with his most...intimate parts, but two of them happened to be Fred and George. Judging by the grins they’re both sporting, Harry’s in for a hellish summer - or however long he’d be spending at the Burrow before jumping recklessly into what probably will be his death.

Later, when the firewhiskey’s numbed his heart, when he’s too tired and tipsy to scream at everyone and claw at himself to grip the pain and throw it out, Harry lets the images of Hedwig and Mad-Eye wash over him like muddy waters clashing against the shore. The two first soldiers of the war - and Harry wonders how many more there’ll be until a skinny, averagely skilled, not-special almost seventeen year old serves justice and catches the bad guy for good.

A bitter laugh rolls down his throat and Harry shakes his head in self-loath, marveling at how impossibly stupid everyone has to be to put all their trust in him.

Harry starts as he feels a small hand on his shoulder - Ginny’s. As she’d done earlier, instead of saying something or asking him what’s wrong, Ginny takes his hand as she sits down next to him on the front steps. And, like earlier, her touch has a calming effect on him, steering his thoughts away from self-destruction and towards the blissful, golden days they’ve spent together.

But most of all he remembers her as she’d been on their last shared moment, her sad eyes and her bare chest, giving herself entirely to him. And just like then, his heart battles his mind, takes it to a savage war where what he wants to do and what he must do almost blend in, blurred around the edges.

He remembers her standing before him, waiting for him to touch, to feel, to melt into her and he remembers that he couldn’t do it then. He can’t do it now either.

It’s as if Ginny reads his mind because she squeezes his hand tighter and, looking bravely into his eyes as her bottom lip quivers, she says, “You know, I’d really wanted...that to happen then.”

Harry’s breath catches and he nearly crashes his lips to hers, nearly loves her right there, on her parents’ front porch. But instead he mumbles, his voice too shallow to meet the unwavering courage etched in hers, “Ginny, I - ah. Please know that putting an end to this,” he gestures between the two of them, a deep crease forming between his eyebrows, “is the hardest thing I’ve ever done.”

“An end?” Ginny lifts her brow, her brown eyes blazing.

“Yes. It’s how it has to be,” Harry retorts, his voice a little higher and he immediately hates himself for it.

“Why?”

“Because it must. Because you’re not safe if you’re with me. Because I couldn’t live knowing that they’ve hurt you because of me.”

Although he’s careful to keep his voice low, the words erupt like barks from his mouth, clipped and loaded with ill concealed anger. And when she starts protesting that she doesn’t care for her life, that she can take care of herself, Harry loses his mind for a moment and his vision darkens suddenly, he’s out of breath.

He’s astonished to discover that he’d gripped her shoulders sharply and had probably shaken her, the anger boiling in his chest taking over his actions. Ginny stares back at him for a moment, pained and shocked, then smashes her mouth onto his with such force it hurts them both. Harry’s arms immediately let go of her, falling limply at his sides.

She ends the kiss just as quickly and shoots him a look that Harry can’t entirely describe - a little wounded, a little cross, and most of all a steel resolve that sends him into a panicked frenzy because he doesn’t know if she’ll run after him, or fight her own battle or, the most terrifying of them all...if she’ll just forget him.

Ginny smacks the door behind her before he can get a chance to apologise for being a crass prick or ask her what she’d just decided. Sighing deeply, Harry admits he really does deserve the door smacking. Why did he ever think that this, whatever this was, could’ve possibly been better than admitting that he loves her, so much that he feels a big part of him is missing when she’s not there, so much that his heart is broken beyond repair.

Because he’s a stupid prat with a hero complex, that’s why.

“What’s with the face, Medium Sized?” Fred grins at him when Harry finally drags his feet back inside.

Harry simply flips him and starts climbing the stairs all the way to Ron’s room. He’s fairly certain there’ll be enough other occasions for Fred and George to take the mickey out of him on accounts of his physique, but today he’s just not up to it.

An unsettling thought crosses his mind before he drifts to what he has no doubt would be an unrestful sleep: being split into seven, even if by means of Polyjuice, appears to him not so different than what Voldermort’s attempted to do. It’s truly a thought that weighs tangibly on the self-hate load for many reasons, but most of all it’s the fact that Harry keeps finding similarities between him and Riddle every time he stops to think about it. And that makes him retch right there, near the camp bed he’d been sleeping on summer after summer since someone had seen enough good in him to have him rescued from the Dursleys - and, quite truthfully, from himself.

Somehow there’s not much opportunity for wallowing when he wakes up as Mrs Weasley seems to have devised the cleaning schedule from hell to keep them occupied and leave no room for mysterious plots to be cooked up between Ron, Hermione and himself. And honestly? Harry’s a little grateful for that.

The blazing sun overhead casts an orange glow behind Harry’s eyelids at the end of the day, warms the metal rims of his glasses where they press against his flushed cheeks. For a minute, while Ron and Ginny’s mingled laughter still colors the air and Harry’s breaths are still calming, it’s almost like he’s got a normal life again. Like the world isn’t silently waiting for him to take out a maniac they haven’t managed in two decades.

And for a minute, maybe more, Harry thinks he can let himself have it and forget about yesterday, forget about all the bad days he’d ever had. He’s already given up so much, is preparing to give up more when he heads out alone to finish what Dumbledore started, he lets himself be selfish. Only a little longer.

“Alright over there, old man?” Ginny’s voice calls out.

Harry cracks one eye open and finds Ginny smirking at him, hair wild around her face, braid half undone. “I’m just a year older.”

“A year is a long time,” Ginny shrugs and winks, “Grandpa.”

“Whatever happened to respecting your elders, then?”

Hermione returns from the house with lemonade in hand and a smile on her lips, “Are we back to this again?”

“Yes. Harry is an old man and I proved it by totally kicking his bum three games in a row.”

Harry pushes up onto his elbows and blinks slowly. “First, you’re a trained Chaser and I’m not. Second, Hermione was my Keeper. And we all know what that means.”

“Don’t be mean,” Ron puts in as he gulps at his lemonade, stray droplets falling over his cheeks. Hermione gives him an approving nod and that probably genetic Weasley smirk slides across Ron’s face, “Hermione can’t help being allergic to the Quaffle.”

“Oh bugger off, Ronald,” Hermione grunts, kicking Ron’s thigh as she claims a place in the grass.

Comfortable quiet falls over them, the trees in the grove swaying with the wind as it carries the scent of wildflowers over the yard. With the sweet tang of lemonade on his tongue, Harry truly feels a sense of relaxation, of contentment that people tend to associate with summer. It’s borrowed time he can't bring himself to give up.

As if Ginny can read his mind, as if she knows his overthinking, overworked mind is settling on its usual dark track, she nudges his side with the toe of her trainer. “So all I’ve heard so far is a lot of excuses, and I’m nothing if not an excuse eliminator.”

“That’s one thing to call it,” Ron snorts.

“Anyway,” Ginny says with a roll of her eyes, “How about we have a go with the Snitch. Although we’ve seen I’m no slouch as a Seeker either.”

Her eyes catch his and he knows they’re both thrown back to that day, the sunlit weeks that followed, the stolen time. And her smile is a little dimmed when she stands and offers him a hand up, “Let’s put you to the test, eh?”

It’s like she wants him to know she’s momentarily forgot about the day before too, about his words and about her pleas.

So Harry accepts the hand up and ignores Hermione’s pointed stare and mumbles about ‘idiots with self destructive tendencies.’ He has a sudden death challenge to win after all.

The Snitch is for practice, and probably older than any of the foursome, but it does the job. It’s a bit sluggish taking turns, so there’s an advantage to catching it there, but the old thing has no trouble darting off and hiding before Hermione’s finished her last eye roll aimed at Harry.

Ginny doesn’t need to take her eyes off the horizon for the trash talk to begin, mostly the usual shots at his age and eyesight. Ron likes a good gangly something thrown in there, but Ginny’s never been one for poking fun at Harry’s physique. In fact, she seemed to like it well enough - before Harry’s life kicked in with its usual ‘pull the rug out’ disappointing development.

They circle in the air for who knows how long and Harry gives as good as he gets, asking things like whether Ginny can find balls smaller than six inches wide. But when he mentions ‘balls’ Ginny gives him a dangerous look he knows means something scandalous is about to leave her lips - until they light in victory.

He twists quickly and finds the Snitch bobbing in the air, as if it’s about to flit over for a visit with Luna and her dirigible plums.

Though Ginny spotted the Snitch first, Harry’s definitely a few paces closer and he’s fast on the uptake so they’re basically neck in neck, screaming toward the little ball.

Ginny nudges his shoulder a bit with hers, no cobbing, but her set jaw and cheeky grin are just as dangerous. Harry’s so caught up he can barely hear Ron and Hermione’s shouts from below - who they’re rooting for is undetermined - all he knows is the push of the air against his ears, the pounding blood in his veins, and Ginny flying at his side like a comet.

At the last second, she lowers herself just a bit closer to the broom and slips past him so her fist closes around the Snitch. So last second in fact, that his hand closes on top of hers. He can’t seem to release his grip and Ginny doesn’t pull away, even as the wings flutter against their palms. “Gotcha, Potter. No flashy mouth tricks - just quality play.”

Her whiskey eyes find his and if he thought his heart pounded uncontrollably before, now it may as well be beating out of his chest. His thumb brushes over top of hers and it feels like all his insides are in his throat as he murmurs, “Nice catch.”

“I don’t know another kind.”

Somehow, his grip slides to her wrist and she’s released the Snitch to feebly fly over the swaying grasses. Then her hand is around his forearm and they’re breaths apart. “Ginny - ”

Whatever he was going to say, it’s now lost to the summer air as Ron’s voice sounds from below, beckoning them inside.

They spend the little time left of July planning and preparing for the moment they’ll have to leave everything behind, which, to Harry, is in a way exactly what he needs simply because it doesn’t offer much room to interact with Ginny. It’s odd how seeing her now makes his heart leap with happiness and then immediately twist with sadness and guilt.

Even though it’s hard not to catch her eye at dinner, especially when the table’s too packed with people, close members from the Order, and no one can notice. Or when little Gabrielle Delacour arrives with her parents and turns her Veela charm on Harry; the small display of jealousy from Ginny revives the old monster nestled in his chest, gives Harry an extra spring in his step for the rest of the day. She cares enough to show the rest of the world he’s off limits. Only Ron’s withering look wipes the stupid grin plastered on his face.

“Should I be fighting off smitten women having a go at you or is this a girlfriend only task?”

Harry stops in his tracks and looks over his shoulder. He sees Ginny, her hair messily twisted in a bun at the top of her head, leaning against the doorframe of her room and staring after him intently. He also notices the puffiness around her eyes that makes the dark rings under them more evident. His insides churn painfully.

“I don’t think women have ever been smitten when it comes to me. I rather tend to attract the usual love potion spiked chocolates kind of people,” Harry shrugs as he fully turns around to face her, one hand gripping at the railing. He feels as though he needs to tether himself to something or else he might just run to her and take her in his arms and kiss her tired eyes till she’s sound asleep and safely pressed against his chest.

Ginny lets out a dejected chuckle, “Clearly you’re not at all familiar with Hogwarts bathroom talk.”

“Oh?”

“But it’s somehow so typical of you to be oblivious of your charms,” Ginny shrugs and Harry forgets himself enough to let a smile stretch onto his face.

“My charms?”

“I believe tall, dark and handsome were uttered here and there,” she smiles a bit as her eyes lock with his and instantly a series of intimate moments they’ve shared passes before his eyes. “But they’re all wrong.”

“They are?” Harry parrots stupidly, heat spreading all over his chest, his face, to the tips of his ears.

“Yeah,” Ginny nods and covers one arm with the palm of her other, brushes it from her shoulder to her elbow as her lips slightly quiver. “It’s actually your eyes. Good night, Harry.”

And just like that she twirls on her heels and closes the door right after her. Harry can hear the springs of the mattress lamenting faintly and tries with all his might not to imagine her crushed on her bed, crying.

He doesn’t even realise it’s his birthday until the sun shakes him out of the poor sleep he’d managed to get once his mind got too tired of playing thousands of different versions of how he might die, how we might bring sorrow and death upon others, all peppered with instances of Ginny crying.

Huh, at least now he can do magic without being traced. Cheers to surviving this long and successfully eliminating the option of rotting in Azkaban every time he feels like actually being a wizard.

Harry gets to enjoy a bit of lightheartedness and bask in other people’s relationship problems when Ron gifts him a book essentially on how to pick up women and not long after Hermione publicly announces she’s about to pack Ron’s pants as soon as they get out of the washer. Unfortunately, he can’t share neither of those moments with Ginny as she’s not there…

Soon enough he locates her when she calls him to her room and Harry steps inside aware of his faint trembling. He comments on the view from her windows and she ignores him, like she should. Who’s invited into their former girlfriend’s bedroom and steers the conversation towards scenery?

A bloody idiot, that’s who.

She mentions Veelas again and his head starts spinning as Ginny looks at him with that blazing look on her face and it’s then when he knows it’s simply become impossible for him to step back. Harry kisses her as fiercely as she’s kissing him, ready to go where he’d previously forbidden himself to go with her, no longer able to control his mind, his body, its reactions to her. Harry’s ready to give himself away completely.

But before the thought of locking the door can cross his mind, before he can take this any further, the door bangs open and they break apart. Lust turns to anger and anger turns to guilt in Harry’s mind as he promises Ron he’s done, he’ll stay away, he’ll will himself to stop. He can’t keep doing this to her, he must never do it again.

An image of Ginny happily in love with another man invades his mind for the rest of the day, obsessing him, torturing him, the faceless man telling him nonchalantly that ‘you’ve lost her, mate’ as the two of them kiss deeply and turn their backs to Harry. They’d never could’ve had a future anyway...