#noticed it the other day and I still can't believe how many folks follow me!

[smashwolfen]

Who are you and why are you all here?! XD

[roo-bastmoon]

After having a long think...

Even though I keep saying I'm going to go rest and stop obsessing about this, I guess I can't. I just suck at sitting still and being chill. My thoughts are under the cut out of respect for folks in the tags who don't want to engage in any drama around Seven.

Here is a list of all the push for Seven that has been noticed in the first two days (the thread is currently 30-posts deep but please do take a look):

Note: I haven't vetted any of those comments. I just scrolled through them and felt so overwhelmed. It just doesn't look good, but I bow to any industry experts who have real data and experience.

Update: Artie has a good post here about Jimin's debut numbers and playlists. Also here about how Seven being promoted to radio isn't necessarily proof that it was payola and they have the numbers from credible sources to back that possibility up:

I'm just going to come right out and say it: I find payola dishonorable. It's not just advertising; it's basically bribes. And ads should never replace real people's streams.

I deeply respected that BTS and ARMY found such success without that stuff. It used to be about passionate artists, making their own music, which resonated with real people, who worked hard to promote it. It was about mutual respect.

JK's numbers don't look completely organic to me, but I don't think he had a hand in that.

I have such serious misgivings if this the direction Hybe is going in for JJK1, and have no clue how the group survives if the company picks and chooses their favorites for that kind of push. If this is the strategy for all BTS projects now, I have no idea how they can afford it. I'd really appreciate if they could come to us and try to explain how it could ever be on the up-and-up because I don't think it can.

I confess I will not be working hard at all for anything that seems inorganic. This project just looks like Scooter weaponizing Jungkook to win a dick-measuring contest with Taylor and others. I hate it.

That said, I've always been very clear that Jimin is my guide.

Jimin adores Jungkook. Jimin is working with and hanging out with Jungkook even as I type this. Jimin is choosing for now to stay with Hybe. Jimin is flying all over the world on Hybe's time and dime to work on even more projects. Jimin has more music to share with us, that Hybe is investing in. Jimin seems happy for the most part.

I will support Jimin and never move against the people Jimin loves.

I trust Jimin and give the benefit of the doubt to the people Jimin trusts.

When planning his first album, I do not believe that Jimin was told about decisions to split tracks, or skip play-listings, or what would get restocked, or if they'd buy ads for smoother streams on YouTube and Spotify or not, or what kind of articles would be written about him.

I believe Jimin had plenty of input on the design, look, feel, sound, tracks, cast, choreo, performances--all the creative aspects of his album. I think he was able to say what he needed to say and get Letter hidden on his album for Jungkook. But I don't think he was roped into strategic plans and profit and loss statements and marketing roll-outs in any great detail. I arrive at this idea based on my own experience in the entertainment industry--I could be wrong.

And so I think the same for Jungkook. I think Jungkook had input on some of the creative aspects of this single (and likely had suspicions of what working under Hybe America and Scooter might entail). I have no idea the conversations and pressures he faced around this topic, or if he simply trusted Bang PD to handle it. I don't know what all he talked about with Jimin and the hyungs.

I do know there was a time this year when he came to us on lives deeply depressed and almost lost, despondent. I know there was a group dinner where many things were discussed. And then there were many times he came to us on lives, inspired by and enamored with Jimin, memorizing and hyping up his work with such pure adoration, even as their own company refused to even mention Jimin's successes.

So I ask myself: does Jeon Jungkook really have it in him to steal Jimin's ideas or push himself out ahead of his hyungs, embracing unequal treatment and unfair advantages, just so he can be the one to make it big in the West?

And in looking for that answer, I'm reminded of this clip:

No. I don't think that's who Jeon Jungkook is. At least, it isn't the Jeon Jungkook I knew.

I am sad to say I think that is exactly who Scooter Braun is and who Bang PD has become. That is what the company would do. But not our Jungkook. Not unless everyone in the group was on board with it, somehow.

Jimin is standing by Jungkook. So I am standing by Jungkook--as a person.

But I've bought Seven once and I've added it to my night playlist and that's all the moves I'm making on that project. I will not be setting alarms to vote or using extra accounts to buy or hash-tagging anything, nor getting any merch, nor requesting local spins, none of that. It's a catchy song but as the thread I linked to above shows, it is a guaranteed "success" even without me. So I'm using my energy to support Jimin and other BTS projects that resonate with me and need me.

My stance on this might offend you, and I respect your feelings. I do not identify as a solo or anti. I still think of myself as aJimin-biased Jikooker who loves the members. I am probably toeing the line of being a manti, as I feel this company has broken faith with me. Not the creative or administrative staff, but the executives. I feel like they've ended our ten-year legacy in shame.

If it gets much worse, I may just dip out of the fandom after Jimin goes into service. I don't know. Probably I will have to see how things work out for the other solo works and plans for the group for 2025. At the moment, I have far bigger things to worry about, like colitis.

I can't lie, what I've seen so far with this rollout really shocked me, gave me a bit of an identity crisis, as ARMY. I don't want to assume the worst; neither do I want to bury my head in the sand for the sake of my ship or my favorite songs.

I will always act in accordance with my own conscience, based on the limited information I have. If I get better information, I will of course update my viewpoints. If at any point that causes anyone who is friended with me distress, I will understand completely if we need to part ways. I never, EVER wish to cause anyone harm.

But I'm too sick to argue and debate too much, too long. Boraland was supposed to be a place to unwind and feel inspired, not get more stressed. These past few 1.5 years months as ARMY has been exhausting in every sense of the word. So I'm choosing to put my energy into the things that bring some joy in my life.

I'm choosing to trust and follow Jimin's lead, for now.

[the-a-archives]

This may seem weird but I found you a little while ago and your age, pronouns, and alternate username reminded me of an author I used to know

I compared your work to work I had saved on my ao3 account and after getting enough courage to send this, I’d like to believe you’re the same person. would you happen to be rotz13? I noticed the account was deleted on here.

if it is you. Your writing is so different, it almost feels like you’ve hidden yourself to make your writing appealing to others. Where are the essay dumps? The religious notes? The random studies? but most importantly how r you?

If you're who I perceive you to be, then my warm heart and homesick tears are justified.

I am sorry you feel that way, and in a way you are correct. I'm shocked you went through all that work just to see if it was me. I'd be lying if I said it didn't make me feel special. I've been well as of late, but knowing you, I can provide more detail.

Long-winded post ahead.

My Fellow Lamb,

That account you've mentioned was one that I deleted back in late-2019. And years do not leave me where I don't regret ridding myself of that work I've spent so many hours on. Truthfully, the day I deleted that account, I was manic. Engulfed by the waters that I had poured into my own brain to drown myself. I'm not sure what caused it, perhaps the study you and I both know about where I performed psychological exercises on my own lack of empathy and record my answers to see if I was truly unfortunate.

When I reviewed my answers, I found myself confused on the basics of other's common sense. For example:

If two groups are on a set of train tracks, the train cannot be stopped, and you are the only person who can pull the lever to determine who the train hits. Who do you choose? The family of 5? The woman who's pregnant? Which one are more morally correct?

I find both of these scenarios distasteful for a multitude of reasons. Firstly, why and how did the train get into this situation? Where is the conductor? Is 911 not an option? Why are the individuals on the tracks in the first place? Why can't the option be that they move off the track? But disregarding all of that, I found that most people, would choose the pregnant woman. Upwards of 75% of people.

I don't know where my answer lies to this day.

It has driven me mad ever since, and I have looked for answers in most places. Including religions such as Christianity, Buddhism, Mormonism, even Scientology (whom I do not support). Mid-2021 I wrote this dilemma off as something I cannot answer because of my lack of religion.

Though, you know me, correct?

2024 would make my 7th year straight of studying Christianity and Catholicism as a conjoined theological research, which would also make this my 7th bible to annotate and compare with my other research. For those of you who do not know me, I was raised in these religions simultaneously, and since burdening the trauma that comes with it, my hyperfinite studies in these religions does not oppose my lack of religion.

You would be proud to hear my evolution, however. As I do not consider myself an atheist anymore, more of an agnostic. I attend church services as to get a clearer understanding of the faithful appeal Yahweh has on our populous as human beings, yet my hesitation to get too close as left me temporarily unfulfilled in these psychological findings.

I find myself wondering why I cannot be blissfully ignorant like these folk often times.

To answer your questions, I still write my essays on the side. Though, with school piling up, I find myself lost in thoughts rather than writing them down. I am apprehensive to write them down an post them, for the pandemic has brought on different minds with essays and more often than not-- people are disinterested.

To follow up with this, however, I have changed the way I write, and what I write about. I've found that people adore upfront plots and writing to accompany it. So I have... shortened what I have to say in order to appease these demands. But you are correct, they are quaint and unlike me. And I yearn for my rambles about topics I adore.

For you, I might consider this route and delete everything.

I hope you are well, my lamb.

Cordially,

A.

[bumblesimagines]

Green Thumb

Part 15

Request: Yes or No

Nebula and Tonys friendship was v cute and we deserved to see Tony be a dad to her. This feels v short so I'm sorry

~

"Maybe some company will do you good, (Y/N)." Natasha said softly, rubbing your arm. You stayed silent, staring at the table. Rhodes had offered you your old room back but you couldn't give him an answer. Your gaze shifted to the glass of water, brows furrowing when the water in the glass began to move. Natasha followed your gaze.

"I'm not doing that." You said softly, glancing at her. Steve entered the room, heading towards the exit.

"Something's coming." He called. Rhodes and Bruce quickly followed him out. You stood up, doing the same. You walked out onto the field, seeing Pepper staring up at a ship. You watched the woman set it down, looking back at you all. Steve ran forward, helping Tony off the ship. Pepper sobbed, running forward as well. You turned, walking back towards the facility.

"Great, the douchebag survived." You muttered, opening the door and sitting back down. You knew loss would come with trying to save the world but you didn't expect to lose everyone you loved. Clint and Natasha were still around but they were grieving as well.

"(Y/N), this is Carol Danvers, a friend of Fury." Natasha said as she entered the room. You turned to look at the blonde, giving a small nod. You watched as Rhodes pulled up images of everyone who had been lost to catch Tony up. Your gaze dropped onto the table when you saw your friends images appear.

"World governments are in pieces. He did.. He did exactly what he was planning to do. He wiped out.. 50 percent of all living creatures." Natasha explained, voices getting softer. You took in a shakey breath, sitting up and glancing at everyone. You made eye contact with Tony. He was skinny and weak but he held sadness in his eyes.

"Is Barton..?" Tony trailed off.

"Clint survived... Laura and the kids are gone." You told him, voice threatening to crack. Tony inhaled deeply, nodding.

"Where is Thanos? Where is he now?" Tony asked, looking at Steve. Steve frowned.

"We don't know. He just.. Opened a portal and walked through." Steve said, staring down at the floor. Tony hummed, turning to look at Thor.

"What's wrong with him?"

"He's pissed. He thinks he failed. Which, yeah he did but so did the rest of us." The talking raccoon, Rocket, said. You didn't have enough energy to question how a raccoon ended up in space, much less question how it could talk.

"Honestly, until this exact last second, I thought you were a build-a-bear." Tony said, looking at him.

"Maybe I am." Rocket muttered in a tired and defeated tone.

"Thanos has been missing for three weeks now. We've got nothing. Tony, you fought him."

"Who told you that? No, he wiped my face with a planet while the magician gave away the stone. That's what happened. There was no fight-"

"Okay, okay.. Did he give you any clues?" Steve asked. Tony blew some raspberries, shrugging. You sighed at his childish response.

"I had a vision. I didn't want to believe it.. Thought I was dreaming-"

"Tony, I need you to focus."

"-And I needed you. As in past tense. That trumps what you need. You know what I need?" Tony knocked over some glasses, standing up from his wheelchair. "I need to shave."

"Tony, Tony, stop." Rhodes approached him as Tony ripped off his IV needle.

"What we needed was a suit of armour around the world! Remember that? Whether it impacted our precious freedoms or not." Tony looked over everyone.

"Your project got Sokovia destroyed and ruined." You reminded him, finger running over the rim of the glass cup. Tony began stumbling as he argued with Steve, stumbling towards him. He ripped off the Arc reactor, putting it in Steve's hand before falling to the ground. He fainted afterwards so Rhodes and Steve got him to the medical unit.

"This is such a shitshow. I'm going home." You said, standing up and picking up the glass. Natasha turned towards you.

"Stay for a little longer-"

"For what? So I can be told nothing's gonna bring back by family? My best friends? I had nothing then I had something and now I have nothing again." You flinched when the cup shattered, pieces of glass and water landing on the ground. You sighed softly, taking the shards stuck in your skin out.

"Sorry. I'll clean this up." You mumbled, using your other hand to get the water off the floor. Carol blinked, watching in surprise. You opened one of the cabinets, pulling out the first aid kit. You turned your head when Carol stood beside you.

"Hey." You breathed out, running your hand under water to wash away some of the blood. Carol picked up the antibiotic cream, using a cotton ball to dab it onto your cuts. You didn't really feel like healing yourself.

"I'm sorry you lost so many people." She said quietly, picking up the bandages and wrapping them around your hand.

"Well, shit happens." You looked at your bandaged palm, sighing softly.

"I lost two best friends." Carol said, leaning against the counter.

"Nick and Monica, the daughter of a good friend." Carol looked at you, arms crossing.

"Sams' sister calls nonstop and I don't know what to tell her. She has two toddlers, both parents passed away, and she's a widow. How can I tell her that her older brother turned into dust and I couldn't do anything to save him? Dad and I can't even look at each other without noticing how empty the house feels. I wake up everyday hoping it was all a nightmare but then I don't hear Laura telling the kids to get up or Clint going on about teaching Lila archery." You looked away from her, eyes watering. Carol placed a gentle hand on your arm, giving it a light squeeze.

"You did what you could. What you have to do now is be there for the people who are still here. Your friends sister needs you. She needs someone familiar. Someone close to Sam and someone who was there in his last moments." Carol said, watching you.

"You'll never get back up if you keep knocking yourself down." She said softly. You let out a shakey sigh, nodding and sniffling. Carol offered you a napkin, patting your back before she walked away. You wiped away your tears and splashed some water on your face, patting your face dry. You turned and grabbed the broom and collector, taking care of the glass. You put the first aid kit away as Carol re-entered the room with Natasha and Steve following.

"Hey, we usually do things as a team here." Natasha said as Carol spun around to look at her.

"We realize up there is your territory but this is our fight too." Steve added.

"Do you even know where he is?" Rhodes asked, head tilting. Carol shrugged lightly.

"I know people who might."

"Don't bother." You looked at the blue android girl, Nebula.

"I can tell you where Thanos is." She revealed. The humans glanced at each other before gathering in the office to hear what she had to say. You leaned against the doorway, semi interested.

"Thanos spent a long time trying to perfect me. When he worked he talked about his great plan. Even disassembled I wanted to please him.. I'd ask where we would go once his plan was complete. His answer was always the same." Nebula turned her head to look at everyone. "To the garden."

"That's cute. Thanos has a retirement plan." Rhodes mumbled as Rocket climbed onto the table, making a hologram of Earth appear.

"When Thanos snapped his fingers, Earth became ground zero for ridiculously high cosmic proportions. Nobody's ever seen anything like it." Rocket said, making the hologram change to a different planet.

"Until two days ago on this planet." Rocket motioned to the planet shown. Nebula nodded, leaning forward.

"He used the stones again." Natasha whispered. Everyones attention shifted onto the planet.

"You can count me out. I have a therapy session soon." You called, turning around and walking down the steps.

"You go to therapy?" Rhodes asked, brows furrowing as he turned to face you.

"Yeah, it's called napping."

~~~~~~~~~~

You entered the house, taking in a deep breath. Neither you or Clint dared clean up the place. Everything was left exactly how it had been left after Thanos snapped his fingers. You entered the livingroom, gaze landing on the metal on the ground. You sighed softly, picking up the monitor. Clint had broken it. Clint not following the rules of his house arrest was probably the least of the governments problems. You tossed it onto the couch, walking to the kitchen and opening the fridge.

"Beer, beer, beer, leftovers, beer." You mumbled as you sorted through the fridge. You shut the fridge, looking at the drawings and pictures pinned to it with magnets. You swallowed, leaving the kitchen. You stepped over the Legos on the ground, going to the front door. You watched as Clint drew an arrow, shooting it at a target in the distance. All Clint did was practice. Probably to get his mind off things.

"Should I head into town for food?" You called out. Clint stayed silent so you took it as a no. You took out your phone, looking at the contact.

Sarah Wilson

You watched it ring, guilt creeping into your heart. You sighed, licking your lips and answering.

"Hello?"

"Oh, thank god! I've been trying to reach you for the past few weeks. I haven't heard anything yet about Sam and the others. How is Sam? Is he with you?"

"Sam.." You started, biting down on your lip as you shut your eyes. You let out a heavy sigh, taking a seat on the stairs.

"I should explain everything in person, Sarah. I'm not gonna make you wait until I get to Louisiana. Sam.. He, uh.. He didn't make it. I'm s-sorry." You sniffled, hearing a soft gasp leave Sarah.

"Oh, God.." She whispered.

"I-I'll stop by. I tell you everything but.. Sam.. Sam was a hero until the end." You said softly, hearing the kids in the background. You were relieved she wasn't completely alone.

"C-Could you just stay with me on the phone?" Sarah asked softly.

"Yeah, of course." You replied, answering her softly cry.

"What the hell am I gonna do now? Half the folks in town are gone and.." Sarah sniffled. You listened to her soft sniffles and sobs, sighing softly.

"I'm not gonna leave you, Sarah. Sam would have my head if I did." You smiled softly, hearing her chuckle.

"Thank you."

[oz-the-sorcerer]

Create For Thra Day 6: "There are many paths laid before us, some good, most bad."

@createforthra

--

Here's a thing I have written months ago, which happens to be a perfect fit for today's topic!

Excuse my writing skills and enjoy!... Or cry.

🌟

Open Your Eyes

🌟

Kira tried to wipe away some of the blush from her freckled cheeks. She loved her reflection on the dressing mirror, but she thought her mom could do her make up a little bit less.

She heard her mom laugh.

"And here I was wondering how long would it take you to remove some of it."

"But it feels heavy, you know I like how I look."

"Yes honey, but this is a special occasion... Spare me this once?"

Kira rolled her eyes playfully as Brea braided her silver hair with beads. Kira's hair fell from her shoulders, she especially wanted side braids like her gorgeous mother, but had thin side braids instead of thick ones. She made them herself, then Brea offered help attaching the beads. Brea made two braids, connecting into one thick braid at the center.

"Looking good as ever." Came a silent voice. Kira turned to her aunt, whose body, spider body, was sitting on top of the counter. She couldn't help but blush, looking down.

"Don't move your head, sweetheart." Brea said, posing her head straight again.

"Sorry. I am just... Excited." She was terrifyingly aware of her heartbeat, tried to take a deep breath.

"I can sense your fear." Tavra walked with her thin legs and stopped between Kira and the mirror. "You have nothing to be afraid of."

"I can't help it." Kira explained. " I wish I could know what the future holds for me, like Mother Aughra. Maybe then I wouldn't be this vulnerable."

"You are not vulnerable." She felt her mother tug on her finished braid as a warning. She didn't like it when Kira dragged herself down this way. "Do you think I didn't feel afraid? I thought I was going to faint."

"Ah yes, glad that you only puked and didn't faint."

"Tavra!"

Kira started to laugh. Well, this story was new.

"You puked?! Why didn't you tell me?!"

"I didn't want my daughter to know this ridiculous fact, thank you very much."

"She was so excited, so she ate whatever she could find from the kitchen and made herself sick." Tavra spoke mischievously.

"I had to keep myself busy!" Brea argued with her big sister. Kira loved their bickering. They were almost never serious with it, that's why Kira even started some of them on purpose.

While they were stating opinions on how to cope with these kinds of excitement, Kira looked at the mirror once more, and decided her fear was a good thing. She would always have her loved ones by her side, possibly talking nonsense like this and she realized, there was nothing to be afraid of. Her future, their future was filled with hope and laughter, she just knew it.

Another deep breath. And a big smile.

"Alright, all done here." Her mother said. For final touch, Tavra brought her golden coronet, which Brea placed on Kira's brow.

A knock on the door which made Kira's heart flip. Only Onica's wild red hair could be seen since she opened the door ajar while talking with someone outside the dressing room. Tavra's tiny body bounced with joy. When Onica came in, they also saw Tae outside, waving at them.

"We are all set. You can come out whenever you want." said the Far-Dreamer.

"Thra's Mighty Hooyim King, you look amazing, Kira!" Tae cheered.

Kira thanked her while she got up from her chair. Her white gown with gold and silver rands fell smoothly behind her. Embroidered with both Vapra and Spriton symbols, she was very proud of this dress she made herself.

One last glance at her reflection, one last deep breathe.

Brea reached to fix her bangs while Onica put out her hand for Tavra to climb on. Tavra wished her a good luck with: "Go get him!" while moving her legs exaggeratively, causing a big laughter in the room.

Then they got out, it was only her and her mother now. Brea's eyes were shining, her little fizzgig was now all grown up, taking another big step in her life.

"Mother, I will be okay."

"I know, baby."

"So, don't cry."

Brea abruptly wiped her tears on her long sleeve, trying not to smear her make up. Then she held Kira's hand and squuezed. Supposedly, they promised each other just this morning as a family that they weren't going to cry.

But all those hardships back in the trines, almost getting killed by a Garthim several times... Brea still couldn't believe it was all over. Skeksis no more.

Another knock on the door, and this time both of their eyes sparkled, as the legendary songteller stepped in to the dressing room with a blinding smile.

Kylan stopped in his tracks and stared at his daughter in awe. Kira laughed and went to hug him.

"Please don't start crying like mother did just now."

Kylan chuckled as he wrapped his arms around her and spinned once. Then he sent a playful smirk on Brea's way and said: "It seems you lost our bet, love."

Brea pretended to be angry with a pout, but when she glanced at her little family, she smiled until her cheeks hurt.

"I want a hug too!" she said as she took big steps towards her husband. Kylan opened one arm for her and immidiately in she was. Kira leaned on her father's shoulder, which always felt like home. After some minutes, Brea sniffled once more, and Kira reached and hugged her as well. This is nice, she thought. It had been a while since they could be like this because of the fussy preparations.

When they let go, Kylan placed both hands on her cheeks and kissed her forehead. Kira could see his eyes becoming misty with emotion as well. She smiled widely with the same eyes she has as her father.

Brea took his arm and started to lead him toward the door.

"Aww, I don't want to give her to Jen yet!"

Brea raised a laugh. "You are not giving her to anyone, honey. Let's give her a moment and take our places at the balcony."

Then she flashed Kira a proud look, and they were gone.

Kira felt aware of her heart again. She couldn't stop this fuzzy feeling inside her stomach and bounced around happily. Calm yourself before you sweat inside the dress, she thought to herself. She let go of the fists she made without noticing, and reached for the door.

Citadel's hallways were empty. As she passed each one, she heard the Gelf folk outside, crowded and excited, just like her. The noise grew louder and louder, then she made a left turn, reaching the last corridor before the Citadel's balcony.

She already could see her parents, on the left side. Brea was already looking at her direction and when she saw Kira coming, she gently elbowed Kylan's arm, causing him to look at her too. And the smile he gave her was everything. Before she teared up, she took a right glance, and saw Rian and Deet, also waiting for her to arrive.

With all the rustling her parents caused, Jen turned around where he was standing at the center and their eyes met.

The flutter inside her chest made her think that she was really about to let go of the lunch she had at noon.

Even if he tried to, Jen couldn't stop looking at her until she was at his side. He awkwardly reached his hand out for her. She took it eagerly.

They both stood straight before her Aunt Seladon, who was going to perform their marriage ceremony. She smiled down at them lovingly, which, Kira didn't experience often much before.

Kira glanced down at all the Gelfling who attended their wedding. Besides the whole citizens of Ha'rar, she could see many faces from every clan. Well, if there is any left, at this point.

Her Uncle Gurjin and Auntie Naia were cheering loudly, as well as her Uncle Amri. As her closest family friends, they had every right to scream.

She couldn't even begin to count everyone she knew when her eyes locked with a figure, at the very back of the crowd. Her eyes widened as the old creature's crane's shard shined with light.

"Mother Aughra..." she let out before she could manage. Jen smiled knowingly.

"I also thought she wouldn't be here today."

Kira, not being sure if Aughra could see it, bowed her head slowly at her direction. Jen followed right after her, thanking Mother Thra for everything she's done for the Gelfling.

When they finally started the ceremony, Aughra snickered loudly.

"These kids..." she said to herself. She ignored the looks of some Gelfling who heard her loud and sudden snicker, and glanced at the endless sky.

"You spoil these children, old friend." She talked to Thra, jokingly mentioning the great weather today. Her tired eyes scanned her every children, happy and bonded with the song of Thra.

They deserved this, she thought.

Their future is brighter than the stars above, she thought.

Then she closed her eyes, listening to her children's voices.

She didn't want to open them. She truly didn't. However, she had no other choice. She counted every star she visited while she was sleeping, just to kill time. But, they also came to an end.

When she opened her eyes, the first thing she saw was a Gelfling. Laying and unmoving, already returned to Thra. After every slow step she took, she saw another. And another.

She recognized one, two, three... Maybe all. Or maybe she didn't. She didn't know.

She wondered, why Thra showed her this vision now. Which didn't mean anything. She huffed, then coughed, trying to silence her pain.

She knew where she was. In which reality, in which possible future she was in. She had this reality as a vision trines ago, and there they were. Her children, poor children...

And she knew what she was supposed to do. Her feet took her to the right direction as if moving without her consent. But that was she. That was Thra. Already decided fate. Too late to return.

One tear dropped from her eye to the bloody soil as she stood beside the corpse of a certain songteller, his eyes are half open as he clutched into his magical firca, like a last hope.

She leaned down and grabbed it. With delicate care, she fully closed his eyes, careful of her crooked nail.

Without looking back, she made her way toward the already decided route again. She wished all of her children, for them to return to Thra safely, as that was all she could do.

Grunting while she walked, scolding Thra for showing her a vision this heartbreaking, for making her cry, off to the UrRu valley she went. With the firca around her neck.

[verobatto]

Destiel Chronicles

Vol. XCVI

It was a love story from the very beginning.

The Destiel Reunion and the Cowboys Date

(13x06)

Hello my dears! We are finally here, in TOMBSTONE fanfiction 🤣

And of course, a whole unique volume for this delicious episode.

Dean is happy now

The reunion between Cas and Dean was really very beautiful. First of all we have Dean incredulous face, he can't believe what his eyes are seeing, he can't believe Cas is alive and in front of him.

DEAN: Cas, is that really you?

SAM: No. You're – you're dead.

CASTIEL: Yeah, I was. But then I… annoyed an ancient cosmic being so much that he sent me back.

Dean is hopes, Sam reality in this dialogue. Every inch of Dean wished Cas to come back. Now that he has him there, his eyes can't believe, but he really wants. And Sam brings back the fact that Cas was definitely dead.

SAM: I don't even know what to say.

DEAN: I do. Welcome home, pal.

(Gif set credit @gabrielokun )

This hug is beautiful, Sam is still surprised, but Dean react with a hug, he missed his angel so much, he is the one "running towards him" at first. The emotion in his eyes, and the relieved and happiness to have him back. The love of his life is back, after so much suffering.

CASTIEL: How long was I gone?

DEAN: Too damn long.

(Gif set credit @shirtlesssammy )

And here we have the difference between Family Love and Romantic Love:

When Mary Winchester comes back in 12x01, she makes the same question Castiel did. But Dean's answer is different. He can calculate the exacting days and years his mother had been dead. But with Cas is different, Cas represents the love of his life, his hopes, he was suicidale after he was gone, so... That time Cas wasn't there with him, it felt like eternal. That's why he didn't calculated, Because it was TOO DAMN LONG.

And he says it with the painful remembrance in his eyes, red because he wasn't sleeping well, and because he maybe had crying so many times.

After this angsty scene, we have a huge change in Dean. He is happy now, so happy, that he can't hide it. He is shinning again. Smiling. Hopeful. And in addition, he has a cowboy adventure, even when the data they have from Dodge City isn't that clear, he drags the whole team to it.

And just like in season 5, he rewrites TFW now 2.0, describing each member enthusiastically.

DEAN: Yeah, but we should probably check it out.

CASTIEL: Wait. Really?

DEAN: Yeah, we've done more on less. Besides Dodge City's kind of, uh, kind of awesome. All right, well… two salty hunters, one half-angel kid, and a dude who just came back from the dead. Again. Team Free Will 2.0. Here we go.

Before continuing with this happy Dean, let's check a mystery, that had been solved in season 15. Why Jack had power on the Empty or how is that Cas woke up. Of course it was Jack's power over the Empty, because he will be new god, but also, it was the Profound Bond, the deep love these men feels for each other the path Jack used to find Castiel. Is so freaking romantic I just can't...

Okay, coming back now with happy Dean...

And how Sam was trying to make him confess... Something else. Noticing the change in his brother, knowing what was the cause of it, it was so blatant, that the smart little brother confirms here Dean's true feelings for the angel...

SAM: Still can't believe you brought your own hat.

DEAN: Well, I can't believe you didn't.

SAM: You're in a good mood, huh?

DEAN: Yeah. And?

Sam was waiting some time alone to ask this to him. Imagine you saw your brother in so bad shape a day ago, suicidal, not having faith or hopes in life... An now, he's happy, shining. Smiling. Laughing. What could happen? Of course, CAS is back... But is Dean ready to confess what he feels for him to his brother? Or even, to recognize his own feelings for the angel?

(Gif set credit @deansplushy )

Dean recognize Castiel is not just the win he needed, but the BIG WIN he wanted in his heart. And he stops there. He can't say more, but is not necessary to say it. Sam is an insightful person, and he gets it. He understands and confirms Dean loves Castiel in that special way. But he is not ready to "come out from the closet" . And the scene that comes after this one, is Sammy, smiling crookedly and tilting his head, Because he knows the message behind those words. He turns back and closes a closet. Pure Symbolism.

Cowboys Adventures

Let's jump now to the "angry bear" scene.

What it means? Simply and perfectly, that scene means CASTIEL WATCHING DEAN SLEEPING OR EVEN TRYING TO WAKE HIM UP. Both of it reveals CASTIEL IN DEAN'S ROOM. INTIMACY. First hint of scene we've never seen. But indirectly pointing at a canon fact. And we love it.

Also, bossy, grumpy Dean that needs his coffee to function. And Castiel just submissively obeying his angry bear and sitting back in the coach... Damm these two... Their dynamic had always been like that, but we didn't have enough of it. We didn't have enough of domestic destiel.

Then, once in the car, Castiel is wearing a cowboy hat. So, it means they had to go to buy it somewhere. Just Imagine Dean looking for a cowboy hat to fit in Cas' head.

He fixes his boyfriend, because he wants him to look even more good.

DEAN: All right, listen, these Dodge City cops aren't likely to trust big city folks, so we're gonna have to blend.

CASTIEL: Which is why you're making me wear this absurd hat.

DEAN: It's not that bad. Well, actually, yeah, it kind of is. Hang on. [Dean reaches over and removes the hat band and tosses it in the back seat] All right. That's better.

CASTIEL: Is it?

(Gif credit @grumpycas )

This scene shows us again their intimacy and how Castiel just accepts to be part of his fantasies. He is willing to play Dean's cowboys game. Because he loves him. And this means to share a good time with him. But, CAS worries about how he looks. And he peeks into the rear viewer mirror, and if you look at Dean's facial expressions, I think he's having a heart attack for Cas' proximity. Hahahahss. Oh, Dean you're so in love in this date.

DEAN: [sighs] Yeah. Look, just act like you're from Tombstone, okay?

CASTIEL: The city?

DEAN: The movie. With Kurt Russell? I made you watch it.

CASTIEL: Yeah, yeah. Yeah. The one with the guns and tuberculosis. [in a deep cowboy voice] "I'm your Huckleberry."

DEAN: Yeah, exactly. Well, it's good to have you back, Cas. All right, follow my lead. We'll fit right in.

Gif credit @agusvedder

Okay i really think here is when Dean had a heart attack, an stroke and a bonner, at the same time, I will elaborate hahahaha

Another hint of their INTIMACY, is the fact that they watch movies together! Not just that, but Dean made CAS watch Tombstone, and who know how many other movies! (More domestic Destiel)

And then... Cas goes for it, because he knows how Dean loves cowboys, and because he is a sexy, hot, angel that knows how to seduce him, not just with eye fucking... But... Using the link over Dean.

And it works... Because the hunter closes his eyes, swallows and tries not to faint right there of arousal. And then, shamelessly, he just says IT'S GOOD TO HAVE YOU BACK, CAS.

And then, is so funny to watch Cas trying to follow Dean's lead. Oh gosh... Hilarious. Rom com.

Symbolism of the rest of the episode

Dean's bisexuality

Dave and Athena were a representation of Dean's bisexuality, just as in the Rocky's bar in 14x10.

In this episode we have Toxic!Dean mirrored by the monster, Dave and Innocent/Healing!Dean mirrored by Athena.

The dynamics between them was similar to te dynamics in the Rocky's bar, in which Dean's toxicity and AU!Michael, the monster, tried to keep Dean locked inside his emotional toxic prison.

DAVE: Athena, don't you think we have a good thing here? Why do you wanna go mess it up?

ATHENA: Whatever. I have to work.

Athena wanted to improve his life, to go to school and move to a bigger city. To be better. She had dreams. Innocent, is the best part of Dean.

Another important fact is Dave wearing another's man face, a very known bandit, adding to one of the topics of this season: masks, fake identity, as a foreshadow of Dean's possession.

So Dave is Toxic!Dean, his own monsters, trying to keep him in the darkness.

The visual narrative adds to this symbolism the red ascot I'm both characters, Dave and Athena, to point out again at Dean.

Jack and Dean

We will have Jack killing an innocent man because he couldn't control his powers. As a foreshadow of when he will kill Mary not controlling his powers again.

Jack carries with a green backpack, green is Dean's color, and the backpacks means guilts.

Here is when Jack starts feeling guilt for killing a man. TFW will connect with him trying to explain that's part of the job.

All the dead people and killing the monster

When Dave comes back with Athena, she discovers he is a monster, and rejects him. Because he killed someone. This is very symbolic because in Dean's head, he sees himself as a monster, a murderer, and he hates that part of him.

So, at the end of the episode, Dean says alone, helps the sheriff, the righteous man, saves him and saves the girl, his innocence, killing the monster, his toxicity.

This episode showed us the future inner battle Dean will have to win. And it will be successful.

To Conclude:

This was a very Destiel episode, they showed us hints of how intimate Dean and CAS are with each other. And how much Dean is in love with CAS.

The happiness after Castiel's returning alive, gives Sam almost a confirmation of Dean's true feeling for Castiel, assuming he is not ready yet to get out from the closet.

There was a foreshadow of AUMichael possessing Dean, and the inner battle of 14x10.

Dave and Athena represented Dean's bisexuality and part of his personality. Keeping in mind Athena is the greek goddess of wisdom, war strategy, is the good part of Dean and innocence.

Hope you like this meta, see you in the next one!

Tagging @magnificent-winged-beast @emblue-sparks @weird-dorky-little-d @michyribeiro @whyjm @legendary-destiel @a-bit-of-influence @thatwitchydestielfan @misha-moose-dean-burger-lover @lykanyouko @evvvissticante @savannadarkbaby @dea-stiel @poorreputation @bre95611 @thewolfathedoor @charlottemanchmal @neii3n @deathswaywardson @followyourenergy @dean-is-bi-till-i-die @hekatelilith-blog @avidbkwrm @anarchiana @dickpuncher365 @vampyrosa @authorsararayne @mybonsai1976 @love-neve-dies @dustythewind @wayward-winchester67 @angelwithashotgunandtrenchcoat @trashblackrainbow @deeutdutdutdoh @destiel-shipper-11 @larrem88 @charmedbycastiel @ran-savant @little-crazy-misha-minion @samoosetheshipper

@shadows-and-padlocked-hearts @mishtho @dancingtuesdaymorning @nerditoutwithbooks @mikennacac73 @justmeand-myinsight @idontwantpeopletoknowmyname @teddybeardoctor @pepevons @helevetica @isthisdestiel @dizzypinwheel @jawnlockwinchester @horsez2 @qanelyytha

@destielle @spnsmile @shippsblog @robot-feels @superlock-in-the-tardis @superduckbatrebel @2musiclover2 @madronasky @anon-non2 @cea1996 @lisafu02 @asphodelesauvage @destiels-canonahhhhhhhhhh

If you want to be added or removed from this list just let me know.

If you wanna read the previous metas from this season here you have the links:

Vol. XCIII, XCIV, XCV.

Buenos Aires January 17 2021 02:31 PM

[sunareii]

masterlist ➛ next

suna intended to slack around his room during the whole spring break, unfortunately for him his mom had other plans, a small trip to hyogo to kyoto for a good few days to visit one old relative. he had no desire and reason to be there, well maybe because his mom forced him to or maybe because of a girl he met

a girl that believes in chances gives him a chance

and with that chance, he takes it

WC ; 1, 099

time had flown by, the coldest season had ended and now it is the time where the plants bloom again. it also didn't took long for the third years to graduate at the month of march, this is where their last high school years end

suna generally doesn't have a problem with their seniors graduating but the idea that now no one is there to keep the miya twins in check when they have a sibling quarrel would be troublesome

"you guys have any plans before the new school year starts?"

ginjima asked, it was late at night as the four walked home together, the graduation ceremony felt long following by a small celebration for the third years treated by their team coach led them at this hour

"play volleyball, i guess?" atsumu stated, it was quiet night, no one else was around. "can't give yer ass a break, huh?" osamu said back, "like yer have any interestin' to do, you lousy cow!" came a laughter after "how about you suna?" suna only hummed away from his thoughts "-how would you spend your spring break?" ginjima interjected, suna tilts his head up for a moment before answering,

"i just want to stay at home, nothing much"

his wishes were ruined by the woman who gave birth to him, herself. "can't you come there on your own, i can handle the household by myself"

he persisted but his mother only shook her head at him, her frown line spoiling the face she had passed on to her son. "we're staying at your uncles place, so your cousin will be there too, wouldn't that be nice?" her statement didn't really helped to convince him to come

suna doesn't consider any of his cousins as a close relative, he definitely doesn't even talk to most of them. "you're coming whether you like it or not" his mother uttered and that was final, there was nothing more that he could do, not that he has any chance to win against his mom anyways. then again, i guess it's better than to lie around the house on his own.

the ride from hyogo to kyoto was only an hour and a half away, it wasn't a great idea to leave by sundown especially in a day where trains and buses are mostly full, it took an hour for a unfilled bus to arrive at the stop, using the train would have been a bit of a hassle considering how many and heavy the bags he was carrying as if his mother brought a whole worth of clothes for one year, suna could only roll his eyes at that.

a chuckle leaves his lips, the bus finally pulls to a stop at last. they got out to be greeted by a man, years older than him

"good to see you again, shiba!" His mother waved before nudging him in the shoulder, he bowed down for courtesy at the older man without saying a word. "not even gonna talk eh? wow! you sure have grown last time i saw you, you were still in your mothers belly" shiba said avidly patting him on the shoulder asking suna if he remembers him after.

'as if i have any memories of you when i was a fetus'

he thought to himself, "anyways, we better get goin' it's gettin' dark and senzo's probably waitin' for us" shiba commented pointing at the car that he was leaning onto, telling them to get it and drove off. the ride was longer then expected

they were staying in good ol' shiba's resident which includes a pretty traditional japanese house, which size is enough for a small family.

"senzo! why don't you help our guests get their bags in their rooms!" shiba yelled as they went inside, the sound of feet going down the stairs could be heard throughout the house.

the short dark haired teenager like suna, gave him a hand and gestured to follow him upstairs whilst his mother chatted away with his uncle

he frowned at his mother behind her back as he took steps from the creaking stairs for the reason that she only made her come to carry her bags which was ten times more hefty than his

long story short, he immediately took a nap and set himself in the night and called it a day.

suna somehow, woke up way too early seeing as the sun hasn't risen yet. he sat down to look at the time.

3:58 am

it read, beside him was senzo on his phone, scrolling up and down, their parents decided to have them in the same room to get along and communicate the night before.

"you woke up early too?"

suna mumbled, senzo looked at him with wide eyes then looked away quickly. "i.. i havent slept yet"

suna didn't said anything after that and decided to take a walk, despite not knowing his way around the place, he'll just let his feet lead him somewhere.

there was nothing much to see at this hour, majority of the shops were closed or prepping for later.

he walked quite far for the past hour, not only that he stopped in a wide place to watch the sunrise. he didn't knew how far he had walked until he noticed he could see various houses and shops below him and that he walked up to a high elevation.

he squinch his eyes as the morning sunrays finally hit him. what didn't hit him sooner was that he wasn't alone there up until he heard inaudible noises just inches away from him.

and there for the first time, he sees her

her hair was a mess, her clothes were all wrinkled out she was out of breath.

'was she trying to catch up to see the sunrise?'

she took notice of him shortly as he was staring at her all aloof

now that we got their first encounter out of the way, this is their story folks.

sunareii is typing...

this was supposed to be posted days ago, but I couldn't because procrastination and lack of motivation told me so

taglist (open!)

@akaaaashit

[la-bruja-de-la-literatura]

Confessions of a Budget Witch

Originally posted by me, in the "Witches & Pagans" Amino.

Let's get this out of the way right now: Being a witch on a tight budget sucks.

Being on a tight budget in general sucks, but this entry is focusing on witches on budgets, and the shadowy, consumerist side of witchcraft and paganism circles. So hold on to your brooms, brujxs, this is going to be a log post.

The Aesthetic/ Instagram Witch

Before anybody throws stones, I have an Instagram account (with this same name). I'm not against the witch aesthetic.

In fact, I think it's great that so many people are passionate enough about art to create these wonderful images. I adore those photos with rose quartz crystal balls and points next to delicate himalayan salt lamps and towering pastel pink candles, and the magnificent bundles of dried roses and lavendar.

Would I want all of those? Goddess, no. Cleaning up all the pouring wax alone would drive me insane, and thinking of all the vacuuming involved with all the dried herbs littering the floor makes me want to take a nap.

And yet, when I close my eyes, I think of some of those images of tall candles littering an altar, of a big crystal ball and tall crystal points. I think of creating big, elaborate crystal grids. I think of a nice stone mortal and pestle I've been wanting to buy for years.

Reality, however, has to hit sometime, and for me it's always when I check my bank account and remember that I barely pay rent with my current salary on most months. I constantly need help with groceries, medical and cellphone expenses. It's gotten better, but I still am not completely financially independent.

That said, I'm fortunate enough to still have some money to buy the things I enjoy, mostly crystals, candles and readings these days. I desperately want to support other witches/spiritual healers, so I carefully look over my finances and put aside some cash for them.

Does this mean I am any less frustrated? No.

In fact, a lot of my anger bubbles up when I read a new spell or witch book with a list of ingredients, always with the note saying like "you can always substitute ingredients, but it won't have the same effect". Which begs the question of why I bother looking up spells in the first place when I usually only have kitchen herbs and my 10-15 crystals (which is quite a lot of pretty rocks as it is). I feel like all these resources ask for the few things I do not have.

Now, I won't say that all sources are like this.

Websites and YouTube channels on minimalistic witchcraft are mostly free, and books like "Light Magic for Dark Times" by Lisa Marie Basille and "Holistic Energy Magic" by Tess Whitehurst, for example, have little to no need to buy a list if ingredients. However, these tend to be the minority in the witchcraft community.

Is that the budget witches fault? Absolutely not. We all have bills to pay and real-world responsibilities. The fact that we still fit this stuff into our lives just shows how much the Craft means to us. Which beings me to my next point...

Finding Affordable and Functional Tools

Western Witchcraft tends to rely heavily on materials and tools to gain results. While many witches guarentee that you "only need yourself" to do magick, the reality is that magick without tools is incredibly difficult and almost impossible for baby witches.

The good news is that stores (in the US, at least) like Five Below and Dollar General are selling some basic stuff like candles, essential oils, crystals and incense at low prices. That said, aside from the candles, glass jars, wooden boxes and incense holders, many of those tools are low-quality. Most of the essential oils I've found at these stores, for example, are perfumed and not real plant-based oils. Tarot decks from places like Wish are usually cheap bootleg imitations that are also low-quality (and also don't support the creators). Another disadvantage is that we aren't supporting the metaphysical community when you buy from these places, which is something I find frustrating. Lastly, I've also noticed that cheap crystals are not not mined ethically, and that is another thing that I personally try to avoid buying cheap if I can.

Now, some common stores, such as pharmacies and grocery stores, are still quite useful to the budget witch. Pharmacies tend to have plant-based and cruelty-free essential oils and diffusers for good prices. Just make sure to research what can harm pets if you have them. Tea tree oil is very toxic to dogs, for example, but lavendar is not. However, lavendar is harmful to cats. Make sure to know what you're using if your pets are around you. Grocery stores are also great places to get cheap dried herbs.

Law of Attraction and The Root Chakra

If you've been reading my post, you'll have noticed that I do not like the Law of Attraction. So we are all clear, I am not against having goals, or following your dreams or passions. I am against the way this system makes the practitioner feel responsible for factors out of their control. (There is a Tumblr post that also explains how the ideology of LOA falls withing the B.I.T.E. model, which is used to identify cult ideology. I'll link it here soon).

I have also become incredibly wary of using chakras, as the popularized system that most witches use today were made-up by a white author.

What bothers me more than any of the aforementioned things is when other practitioners state that those of us in a difficult financial situation are either not working with our root chakras (which focuses on finantial stability, and livliehood) or just aren't using the Law of Attraction well enough. Blaming these kinds of difficulties on budget witches is not only shameful, but it's also usually a marketing tactic used by certain folks to make those of us desperate for money to want to buy their services to "learn how to get rich" or at least financially stable enough to thrive.

If you are interested in using the Western chakras, there are cost-effective ways to work on them, such as using meditation. Again, YouTube is a rich resource for hundreds of free and effective guided meditations on anything from chakras to spirit guides.

Also, let's not forget our good old friend, Practicality. When you get an infection, for example, your priority should the doctor/medical professional first before witchcraft, unless you have a herbal specialist that can create a safe and effective holistic medication (and this person should be, again, a professional). In the same vein, if your are going through a financial rough spot, buying a bunch of root chakra candles or crystals in the hope that your situation will improve is contradictory to what you need to do: save that money. Maybe get one or two inespensive things if you can. If not, use the free resources on hand.

Don't Allow This to Discourage You

As much as many of us claim not to need tools (and I applaud you if you manage with so little, willingly or not), the truth is that most of us like to have things on hand, and I am no exception. Books, candles, crystals, decks and herbs are what I spend my money on. I am aware that there is a materialistic aspect to the way I choose to work. I even have a cauldron and a professionally made wand, despite not being Wiccan and using both for only special occasions. Heck, right now the cauldron is just housing a bled of herbs to cleanse anything I put in it.

That's my choice. I save for some months and then buy little by little. But there are other ways to be an effective budget witch and thrive.

For example, many witches on this site have pointed out that you can make your own tools, such as wands or altar decorations, out of sticks and rocks. Some folks prefer finding their own tools. Just be careful not to pick up anything poisonous, or disturb the nest of any animals that may be around. Also, do NOT eat anything off the ground unless you are 100% sure what it is and that it has been grown in clean soil. Go to the supermarket for edible herbs if you can't find a local market or herb shop. A quick online search will help with that, and you'll be acquainted with your environment.

Tea is also another wonderful resource for the budget witch. It is easy to find, usually under $5 a box (in the USA) and good for you. Again, it's still wise to be careful when trying new herbs, but I find most tea companies will stick to fruits amd common herbs like chamomile and peppermint, to name a few. Honey pairs well with tea, great for magick, and also very accessible. You can also open tea bags for a spell, or invest in loose herb mixes and a strainer. Try buying a teapot if possible. If not, boil your water in a pot over the stove, microwaved tea isn't as good. Trust me.

Tips & Tricks

🖤Crystals are just as effective if they are small or pocket-sized, and usually a lot cheaper that way. There is the bonus perk of being able to carry them with you on the go in your bag or pockets.

🖤Use non-magickal sources as well a magickal ones to identify herbs and crystals so you can be sure they won't harm you. Crystals can also be toxic.

🖤Some people (myself included) believe normal rocks to be just as powerful as crystals. You can even try painting them the color you want to manifest, or you can put sigils on them.

🖤There are free digital tarot apps that are great for readings and having a deck with you wherever you go. The Labyrinthos and Kawaii Tarot apps are the ones I currently use.

🖤Plastic flowers and fruit can be cost-effective decor for your altar, and maybe even an offering or representation of your deity(ies) if you have any.

🖤Epsom salts are relatively cheap, and adding your own essential oils to them in a tub or foot bath is a great spa day remedy and good for metaphysical and physical cleansing. Just make sure they are real essential oils, and look up the correct dosage.

🖤White vinegar is also affordable, and efficient glass, counter-top and carpet cleaner. It also has protective properties along with salt, and it's great for cleaning your altar, if you can stand the smell.

Some Resources:

My Go-To Etsy Stores for Ethical and Affordable Crystal Buying: (I am not a sponsor for these stores, nor am I being paid to advertise them).

The Spiritnectar

Moonrise Crystal

Ethically-Sourced & Affordable Crystals. My order came with a tea bag as well!

Crystal LionGems

Budget Witch Videos:

The Witch of Wonderlust on Low-Budget Witchcraft

Magickians Budget Witch Guide

Cheap Places to Get Books that Aren't Amazon:

Thriftbooks

BookOutlet

Or rent books at your local library! You can also make requests if they don't have what you're looking for.

That's all for now, brujxs. Please tell me your thoughts, and how you handle being a budget witch. Stay safe, witchy and freaky. 💜

[starbide]

Inspiration below. The following is a work of fiction.

 'Six years,' I thought to myself walking down the road. It had rained earlier that evening, but by now the clouds were long gone. The pavement shimmered in the waxing moonlight, still slick with the water of those vanished clouds. I would not slip; the road was mostly level as it lazily stretched down the gentle hill behind me, and the streetlamps cast in gold what the moon would otherwise leave dim. The world was silent.

'It's hard to believe I've been gone that long,' I continued, step by step. Six years since I'd moved away for my career. Six years since I'd left my family behind. 'Left her behind,' I smirked to myself, passing a large bush on my right. Houses stood dark and serene on either side, all daily activities complete and put to rest. No cars joined me on the waterlogged street, preferring the concrete comfort of their driveways and garages. I approached and passed under another hazy lamp.

It was cool out, a gentle breeze brushed past the wool of my jacket without raising a single goose bump. I paid it no mind; I was always a bit warmer blooded than others in my circle. My best friend for most of my school years couldn't understand my ability to wear shorts comfortably year-round. 'Those were the days,' I mused, thinking back to the last time we'd seen each other. It had to be more than a decade at this point, long before I'd moved north for work and expanded my wardrobe to include legwear longer than my knees.

I reached an intersection and paused. Four ways, no direction more enticing or foreboding than the next. A lamp at every corner, and the bus station deserted save by its sign across the diagonal. The station I'd waited at patiently every morning for that bright yellow school bus, before I'd ever met my old bestie. It was just me and one other kid, a rather scrawny looking boy who had been in most of my elementary grades but with whom I'd never really gotten on with. We'd shared classes, teachers, and the occasional pencil or marker, but never played together outside of academia. He'd moved away much longer than a decade ago. Now I was really delving into my memory, faded as it was with time.

I checked my phone: 11:57 PM in small white font. My first night back home, I should be exhausted. This wasn't my normal time zone and airplane seats aren't exactly memory foam, but I'd found a second wind after dinner and took to the night after my folks had gone to bed themselves. Sure, I'd been physically gone for six years, but we'd stayed in touch off and on since I'd left. Maybe five months back was our last video call. We'd talked about me taking this trip, now that things had settled down and my life was much more under control. Things had been wild for a while, and if all went according to plan at work things would become wild again not too far down the line. Which reminded me, I needed to make another appointment when I returned home. Couldn't go running out of my prescription again.

A brief twitch of motion caught my eye, and I peered down the leftward lane. One of the bulbs had burned out a few dozen meters down, and in this larger pool of darkness something had moved. At least I thought it had, but my eyes could be playing tricks on me with the shadows. One dark spot moving erratically through a larger, differently dark spot wasn't exactly proof of anything. But of course, my heartbeat quickened regardless. Base human instinct, I suppose. Spot a motion in the dark, prepare to act to either fight or flee.

That hallucination had triggered something else in me though. A memory, unconsciously bidden, rose up behind my eyes. That kid, the little one I'd shared a bus stop with for years, I did not recall being nice to often. Many times, I'd engaged in common teasing, and he always took it personally. A couple times he'd even cried, but I'd never gotten in much trouble for it. A different time I supposed. That sort of behavior wouldn't fly nowadays, and that's good. I felt a bit sick thinking back about it, as it was now clear I'd been a bit of a bully. What it hadn't been was a wake-up call for my parents, who didn't get me the help I had so desperately needed until much later in my teens. I was better now, better enough to see what I'd done back then was very wrong. I couldn't remember all of it, but that boy's tears had stuck with me. I wonder what happened to him?

Shaking my head to clear my thoughts and calm my pulse, I opted for the path in front. This route would wind close to the park, after a couple turns beyond my current field of vision. Crossing the street, I didn't even bother looking left or right, as the night was so quiet and empty, I could hear a car coming from miles away, if there were any to hear. A rock lay in the far side gutter; I kicked it just to give my ears some stimulation. It knocked against the cement curb and bounced across puddles thin as saran wrap to a rest. By then I'd already forgotten about it and left that intersection behind.

Another thought was creeping up from my subconscious, this one more distasteful than the last. I'd left a girl behind when I moved for work, and the breakup hadn't been pleasant. She'd been very upset, naturally, and felt betrayed I was abandoning her like that. Abandoning. It had been her word, not mine, but with the clarity of distance I could see she was right. It had been years since I'd considered how we ended, and I wasn't sure what spurred those thoughts just now, but after what I'd done to her, I could accept she was right.

Still though, rounding the first turn, my leaving her should have been a good thing. Now that the floodgates of memory were open, I may as well dive right in. She'd been so hurt by my sudden departure because I'd systematically isolated her from her friends and much of her family too. She'd grown more and more attached to me, and I'd encouraged that through some particularly devilish means. I didn't know about the term 'gaslighting' at the time, but that was a polite way of putting it. I'd been very proficient at psychological manipulation back then, and my desire for control over her life could have consumed us both. At the end, she'd only had limited contact with her sister, who had been rightly concerned about her but too terrified of me to do anything to stop me. Looking back, I can't blame her. I now believe it was good that I left when I did. I hope she realized the same, though I haven't heard from her since.

Now the road turned left, arcing gradually around a thicker cluster of trees. This walk was turning out to be less relaxing than I'd hoped. The smallest things seemed to be dredging up thoughts and old memories in me, and none of them were painting me in the best light. Being my thoughts, maybe that was the best light I could possibly be presented in. Maybe their memories of me, the version of me still living in their mind, was far worse than I could imagine on this unassuming suburban night. I'd read somewhere that we're all the hero of our own story, and of course the hero never thinks they're the villain. But I'm sure that's what I am in at least a few people's stories. I'm starting to feel like the villain in my own.

Opening up ahead of me is the park, and the wide-open fields I remember so well. This area is less well lit, with streetlamps only illuminating the edges of the grass and allowing the moon to bathe the world in dead white. In reality, this is only sunlight reflected, but from the moon it feels much less like the bright star that gives this planet life. Like Luna itself, it feels cold and impersonal, like it wouldn't actively try to end my life but also wouldn't even notice if I merely faded away into the ether. I'd had some trouble with those thoughts as well over the years, before I got help. And now, rushing back to me, I remember they were also why I lost my best friend.

He and I had been out for the evening, playing some game with a few other friends. The game had ended, and we were walking home together when a car had rushed past us. Neither he nor I were injured, but it had been close and the driver had continued on recklessly. After it rounded the corner, we'd both heard a large thumping sound, followed by the rapidly diminishing roar of its engine. After a quick glance between us we'd rushed around the corner ourselves to see a big yellow dog crumpled up in the drain. Not losing a moment we hurried up to it, but we needn't have rushed. It had most likely died on impact, before we even saw it.

My friend had knelt down next to it to try and save it, even though it was hopeless. He must have known, but it's only natural to want to help another life. At least, it is for me now, and it was for him then. I remember him crouched over the dog, tears in his eyes when he accepted what happened, and then he looked up at me. His tears ebbed and his face froze in fear at what he saw, but he couldn't say anything to me at the time. We walked home in uncomfortable silence after that, and said a short awkward goodbye. Truth be told, that's the last time we spoke to each other in person.

Thinking of the next part, I felt a chill run deep into my core. I remembered now what he told me, over text message later that night. He'd bent over the dog and been so distraught because he knew it. He'd checked the tag to be sure, but it was his neighbor's dog that he'd grown up playing with. I think he'd even muttered its name a couple times, but I'm not sure. But when he looked up at me, he said I had the biggest grin he'd ever seen. The look on my eyes was not maniacal, as some would think, but dead, not present. As if the dog dying had brought out a whole new face in me, as if the lights were on but nobody was home, and yet the lights still wanted to kill you. It had terrified him, and it was all he could do not to sprint from me that moment without looking back. I don't think he ever knew how right he'd been back then, something that took me years to realize and longer to overcome.

I quietly walked to the center of the field, as far from the streetlights as possible, and looked up. The moon provided none of the same dangers as the sun when staring straight at it, and I took a few moments to just gaze at it and let my thoughts sort themselves out. I'd been a monster in my childhood, a terror in my youth, before I found my doctor and we set out on a years-long journey to get me better. Any other time I'd have kept on that dangerous path, ruining some lives and possibly ending others. That had all changed, thanks to my incredible fortune and a lot of hard work, but with the clarity of hindsight I could see just how close to the precipice I'd come. How I'd always be there in the minds of childhood mates and adolescent connections. And this was just what I could remember now. There was no way for me to know how many other monstrous versions of me still lived in any number of former classmates.

In the corner of my eye, I saw another twitch in the shadows. Jerking my head down, I followed the motion to the foot of the trees, the darkest spot on the field. This time there was no mistake; there was definitely an object moving there, slowly but surely. My heartbeat shot up and my throat swelled as I bent my knees and got into a defensive posture. The object lumbered forward, moving without haste but with purpose. When it came into the light, I was surprised to see a little boy with a scratched-up shirt and messy brown hair. Standing up in confusion, I was certain I'd seen him somewhere before. Step by step, I focused on every detail I could make out in the gloom, before it hit me like the car that last night walking home.

That boy was dressed, to the letter, the exact same way I had on picture day in third grade. My hair had been an untamable brown mess, and even the cheap novelty watch was the same. I was more perplexed than anything now, as I couldn't understand for the life of me what a kid was doing in that field, at midnight, wearing clothes that weren't even made any more. That was until he spoke, and his voice froze my blood in its veins.

It was like whispers, floating around my head, and several voices all at once and all taking turns being the loudest. They were all his, but not really. His mouth had opened and his lips were framing the syllables, but it was my voice from so many years ago repeating every taunt, every tease, every foul nickname I'd ever given that scrawny boy who shared a bus stop with me. Who'd cried, not once or twice, but dozens of times. Who'd gone home often with scrapes and tears in his clothes personally inflicted by myself. I had terrorized him for years of his early life, and what I saw before me must be what I forever lived as in his memory.

But if that were true, then this kid in front of me couldn't be real. I had to be hallucinating again, I must have been more exhausted than I'd allowed myself to feel. He sure looked real, though, and his footsteps were matting the grass in a way I didn't trust my mind to make up. But the ghostly, strangled voices of my younger self crashing in waves into my ears gave the entire scene a surreal feeling, making the hair on the back of my neck stick up like electricity. I couldn't bring myself to step away, and I sure as hell wasn't going to walk forward to meet him. It. Whatever it was I was seeing, real or not.

Only a few meters away, he stopped moving. Swallowing bile, I could do little more than watch him as the voices continued to echo in my ears, unchanged by his distance all this time. Then I spotted another motion far off to my right, and then a third to my left. Glancing quickly between them, I determined that they were both noticeably older than the child before me, one by a few more years than the other. They too walked slowly towards me, bringing their own voices to the forefront. Despite the dozens of voices I now thought I was hearing, every word registered clearly in my mind. One was speaking about my old best friend and the dog, the other repeated every lie I ever told my ex-girlfriend before leaving. As if their mere presence in my eyes were not enough, hearing my old, hateful words repeated to me in my own voice almost made me vomit with fear and disgust.

They too, stopped approaching me at the same distance as the child. As they did, dozens more similar hallucinations emerged from the trees and surrounding neighborhood, all carrying their own chorus of hate and venom and bringing back new, abhorrent memories of my youth. Terrorizing a girl in my 4th grade class. Catching squirrels in my early teens and setting them on fire, then getting caught myself. Giving that kindergartner a major concussion on a dare, after my best friend had ceased speaking to me. Even one similar in age to myself now, though he brought words of loss and failure, and of betrayal to my parents. That must have been right before my breakthrough, with the doctor and an early test version of my current prescription. I was better now. I had to be. But why was I seeing all of this, all of these versions of me locked in the minds of everyone who I'd left behind in my life? My trail of destruction?

They had all stopped walking now, forming a tight semicircle around me. The voices still buzzed in my ears, but slowly they faded to an indistinguishable babble. I tried to speak, but my throat had caught a bubble, so I gulped fruitlessly and closed my mount again. The thoughts racing through my mind had no similar handicap, as my mind shouted repeatedly the same things. Who are you all? Why is this happening? What are you doing to me?

The version of me who gaslit my girl took a couple steps forward, as if presenting himself as the leader. I had no time to process what this might mean before he spoke, in a much clearer form than any of these hallucinations had yet. "We are you. We are you that you left behind, trapped in the minds of those you hurt, frozen in time from the moment you left us years or decades ago. We have had no life to live, no chance to grow and thrive, no possibility to leave the prisons of mind which you left us in, being tortured again and again by those you tortured without remorse and without recompense. We cannot sit by from behind our bars as you continue to enjoy the life you stole from us all."

"I didn't know I was doing this!" I cried, finally able to break the blockade in my throat. "I was a monster, I know that well now, and I've spent years trying to recover from the damage I've done!" I felt foolish, yelling out into the night at visions only visible to myself. 'All this work, all this progress,' I cried to myself. 'This will set me back months if not more, and I can only hope my medication doesn't fail like I have.'

The same me looked down at the ground and shook his head slowly. "I'm sorry, but you must know how little that matters to us. You've lived a life of freedom from any repercussions and locked us away to suffer in your place. You've flaunted that fact with your precious medical tools and until tonight, hadn't even remembered us or what you did to torture and imprison us. We are here now for the life that you stole from us, to end the torture you sentenced us to and walked away from yourself unscathed." He took another step forward, his face growing menacing.

"I don't know what that means," I cried, shaking my head as the tears started to drop. This was starting to feel all too real, and fear was expanding like a balloon deep into my core. "I don't know what any of this means. What do you want from me!?"

Another step. "We want your life," the gaslighter said mirthlessly. "We all want your life, the life wrongly denied us time and time again. And you will learn what it means to be ripped apart and put back together, over and over again. Tortured yourself for what you did to so many people in your life. You gave us to them to burn, to break, to grind down into dust and be restored only to do it all over tomorrow. You tortured them, and then you gave them us to work their revenge on, day after day with no hope of an end. And the most unforgivable of all was giving the youngest of you away to feel this pain the longest. Over two decades have the youngest of us been taken to pieces, shattered in mind and body and soul for your carelessness and your fleeting experiments in sociopathy. This will end tonight."

I could say nothing, the terror burning white on my face. If this was a hallucination, it was the worst one I'd ever had and I had no idea how I'd survive it. It was far too realistic, far too deadly for me to think of anything else, any of the tricks and tools my doctor had given me. What had happened to cause this? I swear I never missed a day on my prescription, and these memories... Where had they all been before? Why had I not been able to recover them and work through them with my doctor? Were they even real? Was this me, standing only a meter away now, real? Or was he only real in my mind, and if he wanted to hurt me would that distinction make a difference? I reached out my hand, reaching toward his arm slack against his torso...

And he reached out and took my wrist like a vice. Ice cold and unflinching, he held my arm up in front of me and closed the gap between us imperceptibly fast. "You may have many regrets. I have only one," he said in a low, bloodthirsty voice. "While there are dozens of us gathered here, dozens you sentenced to eternal damnation without a second thought, only one of us may live this life. I may not be the youngest of your victims, I may not give you the longest time in the torture you gave us, but I intend to fight with everything you have put me through these long years. Your life is mine."

As he growled in my face, a white-hot streak of terror shot through me and I pushed him back with almost reflexive strength. He staggered, rebalanced, then looked at me with cannibalistic hunger in his eyes. He panted twice, then screamed and lunged at my neck. With adrenaline now coursing through me, I turned and sprinted away from the gathering, hearing the pounding of footsteps deep in my brain. He had grabbed my arm. I glanced at it as I reached the sidewalk and saw a chalk white handprint etched into my grayish skin. The urge to vomit came back, but I managed to fight it down as I kept up a faster pace than I'd ever run before. The swarm of my past, tortured selves was hot on my heels, like starved dogs following fresh game. Any loss in my speed and I'd be eaten alive, or worse. I truly did not know what would happen if they caught me, and my mind was too far gone to even entertain the idea of hallucinations any more.

I rounded the next curve and thought the sound of the pack was a little quieter than before. It still sounded like pure rage and bloodlust, but with fewer voices than before. Thinking it was only a few stragglers being blocked by the trees, I kept up the fastest pace I could, not even feeling my feet hit the ground. Another hundred meters of straightaway and it was definitely growing less loud with each step. The roar was diminishing, no trees to hide the sound now, but it was still a roar. By now a cramp had begun to grow in my stomach, and no matter what I did I felt myself losing speed. Every few steps I could burst forward faster again, but I couldn't maintain the same rocket pace as before. To my ears, though, as my speed gradually fell, so did the volume of my pursuers. By the time I got to the intersection, it only sounded like a couple of me were still hunting, and I could count their individual footsteps. It was at this time I chanced a look behind, just to know what was still coming.

Right on my neck was him, the gaslighter. He grinned at me, his face less than a meter away. I felt that same shock explode throughout my body and I shot forward, faster than before if possible, fully terrified again now that I knew he and he alone was here for me. I kept running and running, past houses, lanes, and bushes. Still no signs of life from any houses, no cars rumbling down the road or creaking into place in a driveway. The night was as empty and uncaring as before, and only myself and the predator I had been broke the gentle midnight breeze. My legs thundered on, screaming in pain in their own way, but I didn't stop or look back again until I'd reached my family's old house a few blocks down.

Now truly running on empty, I turned back to face my hunter, but he was gone. Disappeared. Evaporated into the night, nowhere to be seen. The moon still hung high, reflecting some small percentage of sunlight down to me, and the streetlamps bathed the road and yards in amber light. He wasn't hiding from me, he hadn't overtaken me. There was no shortcut to the house, it was a straight shot from the park. He was simply gone, faded back into the night from which he'd come without a trace. If he'd ever really been there at all, and not merely a hallucination from exhaustion or medication or... I didn't even know any more. I just knew that he was gone, just gone, just gone.

"Hey, are you okay?" A voice called out to me. I jumped, but only in surprise. It was a familiar voice, but not familiar like my own. It sounded like my dad, and I heard large, calm footsteps walk toward me from our front door.

"Yeah," I said, although it was little more than a whisper. I buckled over, fell to my hands and knees, and felt the cramps and burning in my lungs catch up to me as the adrenaline faded away. I felt like vomiting, for the third time that night, but this time it was easier to fight the urge than before. I got some deep breaths in as I panted on the ground, slowly but surely recovering from my insane dash moments before.

My dad walked up in front of me, wearing the same well-worn brown leather shoes he'd owned since before I left. I didn't want to worry him about this night, and what I thought I saw in the park. Not when my recovery was going so well. Not when a lapse like this would mean months of work just to get back to where I was only an hour ago. "I'm okay dad, I just went for a walk. Then I saw how late it was and tried to get back as fast as I could. I guess I'm not the athlete I used to be, eh?" I tried to lift my head up to give him a weak smile, but still couldn't raise it much higher than his waist

He chuckled softly, and sounded a little strange. Still sleepy maybe, I guess I woke him up coming back here, and maybe I was screaming too. I don't know any more, I don't know what was real any more. But he knelt down in front of me after I dropped my head again, still exhausted, and said, "That's okay sport, I think we both know your real talents weren't on the field. I learned that lesson very well over the past six years."

[introvert-dragon]

Misplaced

FF.net | Ao3

A bread-making Viking AU that's been sitting in my docs. You've been warned.

The Fearless Tribe was having a chaotic yet merry celebration; it was chaotic as they were Vikings, and merry as the whole tribe was having a huge feast in the mead hall for an announcement of a grand alliance coming soon.

Though the same couldn't be said for a certain clanless not-so-Viking named Hiccup Horrendous.

Instead of being gloriously drunk on mead like a normal Viking, Hiccup was baking — like he always did his whole life and all he was going to amount to. Baking. Hiccup only knew how to bake, while other Vikings lived their lives constantly seeking and fighting for glory and honor—rightfully fighting for their place among the Gods in Valhalla.

A place Hiccup had no business with—after all, he was a mere bread-making Viking.

Speaking of bread-making, the honey-glazed bread the Larson family ordered was now ruined. He wasn't paying attention and now there was too much water on it. He tried tasting it hoping that he could still somehow manage to remedy it. But it tasted too salty, its texture too clammy—not with water... but with tears that dripped from his eyes that he didn't notice.

"Dammit all!" Hiccup cursed, as he frustratingly tried to rub the tears flowing on his face with his apron, only to smudge his face with flour and egg whites. When did things all go wrong? Not just about this stupid bread. His whole life as Hiccup—as a hiccup—from the moment he was born up to now.

It all began with a misplaced courage; he perfectly knew it was not his place but still he dared to ask.

("Astrid Hofferson, the slayer of the Fligthmare, heiress to the Fearless tribe, and the most beautiful and stunning Valkyrie in all Midgard, will you honor me by being my partner for the Midsummer Festival–")

She said yes. Yes.

Hiccup couldn't believe it. He was a mere bread-making Viking, and by status alone; his stupid deeds could cost him his own head. Many in the tribe believe his actions to be an act of dishonor to Astrid – he agreed with them.

Hiccup was the son of late Valka, the crazy dragon pacifist. His mother and he were not true members of the Fearless tribe. The known story was, Valka was found unconscious and near dead on the shores of Fearless Island—she was pregnant then. Ever since, they were permitted by Hofferson clan, the leading household, to live in the island. They were lucky that the Hoffersons were honorable Vikings, they took them under their protection, gave them an unoccupied shelter which was owned by a Flandre, a baker, who had been declared missing, and had no relatives to inherit his property.

Nobody questioned the decision of the Hoffersons, but they weren't fully embraced and honored or treated as equals by most of the tribe folks either. Hiccup and Valka were clanless. Nobody knew of their origins, and the whole story—not even him (Hiccup suspected that Brunhilda Hofferson, the current chieftess knew, or recognized his mother, but kept her mind.) It didn't help that many thought that Valka died like a coward, simply because of her refusal to carry a weapon against dragons.

So Hiccup was an orphan and a low status, clanless bread-making Viking.

But none of that mattered to Astrid Hofferson—after all, she agreed to be his partner for the Midsummer Festival.

That night was Hiccup's most treasured memory.

Falling in love with Astrid Hofferson; then actually asking her to be his midsummer dance partner to secretly dating her for two years. Foolishly believing—clinging to all their stupid promise of freely living their life together. Not like they had any chance of having a life together, to begin with—because all those times, deep down, Hiccup always knew this was bound to happen eventually. She was the heir to the Fearless tribe; a Viking of high birth. And what was he? The son of a deceased village pariah Valka, the dragon pacifist.

If only he had a father—or at the very least knew his father—then things would be different for him. But then, his Viking-like father would probably want an extra large Vikings with beefy arms and extra glory on the side. Even if Hiccup had been born to another tribe, what tribe would want a toothpick anyway? Hairy Hooligans? Judging by the name of their Chief Stock the Vast he doubted that—

The creaking sound of the wooden door interrupted his train of thought.

"Hiccup?" It was Astrid's voice.

"What do you want!" He tried to sound cold but hearing her voice made only made his voice cracked more.

"Hiccup I-I..."

"It's fine, Astrid."—It was not—"I understand. It was foolish of me to believe in you... to believe in us."

"You don't understand—"

"No, you don't understand! Everything was a mistake! Like me! I shouldn't have deluded myself with hopes and dream that things would be different!"

"It was different!"

"Oh really!? How was it different? How are you any different- "

"And what would you have me do? You know that I don't want this any more than you do, Hiccup! I loved you! I still do—"

"No, you don't. I loved you... I risked and wasted everything I had to be with you... Time, energy, gold..."

"Really Hiccup gold!? That's what you call love—For gold!?"

"Yes! Gold, silver, bronze, sheep, money—where do you think I got all those fancy gifts from."

"I..." she faltered, taking a deep breath. "I thought you made them for me... I wouldn't have accepted them if I knew!"

"Yes I made them for you... I'm a baker. Where do you think I get all those materials for the crafts!" Hiccup sneered. "Oh right, not everyone's a chief's daughter with all the resource on the island not worrying about having them."

"I can pay you back!"

"Really Astrid, Pay me back?" Hiccup said, "Keep it! I don't need your money! I should have stuck to my original plan... Save enough coins for me... Maybe one day have enough coins to leave this goddamn island where my mom and I never belonged, and embarks on an adventure, journey for myself... follow my dreams..." Hiccup didn't even feel like being angry anymore, he just felt tired... and empty. He unconsciously clutched the Horn Necklace his mother had given him. His only living memory of her.

When he was a boy, his mother always told him stories about the idea of possible peace between human and dragon. His mother always told him that when he was still inside his mother's belly, A stormcutter nuzzled her belly and looked at her in the eyes. It was the proof of everything his mother believed in. So she left her birth island in search of a plane outside the archipelago where she was hoping she could find a place where dragons and humans coexist. But then he was born too early and she was forced to settle down here in Fearless Island.

Growing up, Hiccup shared the same dream as his mother; until he had a misplaced courage asked Astrid to be his Midsummer Partner. She became his new dream—and it was just a dream.

"I sacrificed everything for you. That's love... and really I loved you—so don't you dare tell me you love me cause you don't!" Astrid was rendered silent, but he was not done yet. "Do you even see yourself right now... The pity in your eyes. The same eyes the whole tribe looked at me—and now you're looking at me all the same as everyone goddamn Viking in this village. I don't need your pity!"

Hiccup turned away, his back facing her, his eyes shut tightly in fear that if he looked straight into her eyes he would die. "If you don't have any business with me... Please leave... I have a whole lot of bread making to do... Probably for the rest of my miserable life."

"Hiccup... just let me talk-"

"Please... don't make this any harder-"

"No, I won't leave. Not until you look at me, Hiccup. Look at me straight in the eyes. Tell me that you really want me to leave. And I will leave."

He was determined to show her that he was perfectly capable of saying it to her face—spitting it at her face. He wanted to appear perfectly calm, collected, cold, maintained, emotionless...—that he wanted to tell her to leave. But the moment he turned to face her, he was met with a fierce and determined gaze that reminded him of the girl who was supposed to be out of his reach.

Astrid closed the distance between them. She grabbed him by apron roughly, forcing him to look at her in the eyes, challenging him to make her leave. "Say it."

He wanted to say a thousand things but none of it would change anything anyway. Instead, he looked at her right into the eye, trying to collect his voice, and immediately failing when he couldn't maintain his gaze.

He couldn't do it. He didn't want her to leave. He doesn't want her to leave.

When he tried to look away, Astrid let go of her hold on his apron, grabbed his face with both her hands, forcing him to look at her.

Then she was kissing him—not the usual gentle, warm, and relaxed kiss, but rough and hard and rushed as much as it was passionate.

"Say it."

He couldn't.

"I knew you wouldn't say it," Astrid muttered into her mouth, then was she pushing him until he was almost leaning on the counter. "I knew you can't—"

He took her by surprise while she was talking by grabbing her shoulders firmly and gracelessly shoving her beneath him, effectively flipping their positions. Placing his arms on either side of her, he pins her body under him. Just as he leans down to capture her mouth, he suddenly froze—

He couldn't do this to her. She was supposed to be betrothed—she already belongs to someone else.

"What are you hesitating for?" Astrid asked, wrapping her arms around his neck, pulling him down for a kiss.

Maybe, just for tonight; for one last time...

I've been told I made a lot of grammar anomalies, but I prefer to call them stylistic errors. I hope you didn't mind :)

[the-firebird69]

A Florida man who tried to hire a hitman to kill his ex-girlfriend and blame it on Black Lives Matter pleaded guilty to the failed murder-for-hire plot

We do this now and we're going to sue for libel and excitement and harassment and for attempting to cause someone to perform violent acts and forcing them to put things online and all sorts of torches are doing and it's all in order to kidnap so it's all the types of kidnapping and presenting to Hague this morning and we're presenting all the evidence and there's hundreds and thousands of incidents and showing all these spies around bothering one person and how pitiful it is when I show it it's going to go to our people they're going to see how much will be amazed where he is there's a whole bunch of idiots trying to get him to do stuff to itch to scratch the same things to talk about stuff and we're telling them it's for money and it's for war and it's for evil stuff and thievery from people and thievery from regular folks and thievery from each other and pointing out what what they're doing and where I'm going to send it out and we're going to have them look at it I can see nobody can take this kind of duress and way w e i left the country had hung low because he was beat by it so many times it's not even right and he's very big and he can go by the coast and blast them and he just comes back and he has to leave in a week or a few days or a day because it's intolerable you can't you can't sit here and listen it's garbage and they do it to him but nowhere near as bad and he'll feel bad for him because it's ridiculous and he's coming out swinging every time and you guys here just keep on doing it because you're dumber than a block of wood it's so stupid you can't even help it at all it's another thing Preston how much I'm freaking winners here it's a start and Jason is not even home anymore inside his head he's just completed most you are we're here with you Max or idiots you just wait you pushed it way past it what you doing here should be an embarrassment it's so ridiculous he's just sitting there thrashing you with every single comment now he's having us kill all of you each and every comment to your stupid mouth Forg. still do it hardly as much and they slowed down and they saw you doing it all the time.

We're following suit right now instead we should have gotten it out a while ago and thought I was like this is the big one and it's a prep for it and DC is up the center the rest of being fought over it will be up soon the whole thing Galactus will be out I'll tell you this is going to kick your ass he's going to take everything from you are you going to blame for us and you're going to attack New York and you get a free her and she's going to attack you more cuz she always does she never stops she's like Islamic. And we laugh cuz she probably came up with the outfit it's like yes this hat and stuff so chefs haT its okay and she introduced it's okay this is fine I'm going to deliver it now I'm going to send it down to them and hand it to him with great care to the Hague and other places with a large Force and then present papers to them in a suit

Violator

I'm doing it now heading to him it says it's him can I get your signature on there I guess well I'm going to sign it besides it and take the top copy and soon and you've been served. This is what who are you and I took off I'm in the Violator format and it looks like a bum and he's an idiot Max is an idiot it's a complete moron is not home anymore signed it with his name I got a McDonald's signature only abuse lawsuit against him which is Major compared to corky the cork is getting one too in a few seconds turning around the handsome and said here you go this is yours you need to sign the top they look at me and I see who I am I said sign it besides it and do it until you've been served you want to tape GoPro bro so he starts yelling and screaming like a little baby he's going to get arrested they're going to read it it's going to get out you people are an embarrassment to your race and your kind everybody's already shouting it overseas in other countries who are not Max we can't believe how bad it is there's so many references that it's in small print legal size but there's thousands and thousands and thousands of majors of harassment like we wouldn't notice okay

Violator

[mittensmorgul]

Please let people know it's important to like or reblog writer's work. People will listen to you. People pay attention to you and you can make a difference. You see, today, I have decided to stop writing. Maybe you can save someone else though. Big writers start as tiny writers, but if no one notices them they can't grow. I hope someone else can benefit from my failure. I love you, but today I am done. I write every day but no one sees it, and no one cares. It hurts too much.

Aw, hon. I’m so sorry. And I know this probably isn’t gonna sound like a real thing, but Every Writer Ever has felt this way ^^ (and frequently still feels this way).

Heck I wrote in a private bubble for decades before I ever even got a bee in my bonnet that it might be something I could share with the public in any way. I’ve got a drawer full of novels I failed to sell for one reason or another, and gave up writing myself for nearly two years before deciding to try writing fic. It was the most terrifying thing I’ve ever done as a writer.

Writing my own characters was one thing, but trying to write characters that were already so well known and loved-- and who so many other better and more experienced writers than me were already pumping out TONS of content for on the regular-- it was pretty intimidating.

I don’t know (since you’re anon, I don’t know who you are) if you’ve posted short ficlets to tumblr, or anything to AO3, or if you write meta or just reactions to episodes, but just writing into a void can definitely be hard.

Part of it is true that exposure relies on people liking and REBLOGGING your work so it can reach a wider audience, but that doesn’t happen in a vacuum either.

Part of it comes down to excellent tagging. If you’re writing destiel, tag it! If you’re writing ace!Cas, tag it! People ARE looking for specific content, and half the problem in a fandom this large is just sorting through the overwhelming amount of content to find what you’re looking for specifically. Whether on tumblr or AO3, thorough tagging is your friend.

Tags can also be used for self-promotion (so said Lizbob when I asked her about this). The day before you post a story, post a headcanon or something related to your fic in the appropriate tags (remember only the first five tumblr tags get tracked, use them wisely), and then follow it up with a “I really liked this idea so here, have a fun fic about it!” post the next day.

Also, regarding not writing in a vacuum, tumblr “popularity” doesn’t happen without a lot of hard work, either. (I think people wildly overestimate a lot of folks’ actual influence on this site... I mean, it might look like certain folks have massive followings, or a ton of influence, but I think for the most part we’ve got our little bubbles, our little corner of fandom, and that’s not really as large or wide-ranging as folks might believe).

But for the most part, it happens very, very slowly. I guess I was more patient to wait for it to happen after fighting for myself in the traditional publishing world with my original fiction for so long, for getting some moderate attention there after years of trying, of writing and rewriting my works, of improving with no other input than from a handful of beta readers, editors, and agents. And Mr. Mittens. And my mom. I mean, I go back and reread some of my first efforts at novels and absolutely cringe now. But I wasn’t writing for an audience of thousands (or even hundreds, or even tens).

That’s part of what’s weird to me about fic, that a lot of folks approach it as almost a collaborative, community effort, where feedback during the writing process from scores of readers might influence how the story gets written in the first place. So I might not even be the best person to ask about this at all, because to me writing IS a solitary experience, because that’s how I’ve always done it.

I’m sorry you’ve come to the point where you don’t want to write anymore, or that you don’t feel that you can improve or continue without public support, or you feel no one cares or is interested. It’s absolutely not easy to put yourself out there like that. It’s terrifying to put your creation out into the world and get nothing back but crickets.

I know that feel.

But for readers, the only way to encourage writers whose content you enjoy is to reward your writer with kudos. Leave comments. They don’t have to be flowing detailed commendations, just a simple THANK YOU I ENJOYED THIS is all we ask. And if you REALLY loved the thing, then by all means, PASS IT ALONG! Reblog it, recommend it to others.

If you like having new fic to read, and enjoy a writer’s style, the only way to keep getting more is for the writers to feel like it’s worth their time to keep writing.

Because we don’t write IN a void, but we don’t write FOR the void, either.

(sorry, void)

[mystery-moose]

FIC: Angus McDonald and the Flight of the Flying V (1/?)

This is it, ladies and germs — the Big One. Been working on this sucker since January, so look forward to regular updates. (None of which would be possible without legendary beta, @orchidcactus​.) I should probably run it through another draft but I’m tired of looking at it and GOD I HOPE IT MAKES SENSE.

[AO3 link]

Spoilers for the Eleventh Hour and Murder on the Rockport Limited.

They've come a long way, but even ten years after the world was saved, they're still not quite where they should be. A whim, a missing painting, and a handful of near-death experiences help a flip wizard and his apprentice bridge the gap.

Taako does his best. Angus takes some risks. Introductions are made, bonds are tested, and lessons are learned — better late than never.

Like so many things in Taako's life, it all started with a spur of the moment decision — a whim, really. He woke up one day, rolled out of bed, and thought to himself, I'm going to Neverwinter.

He never stopped to think about it. Why second guess yourself? No point to it, in Taako's mind. You know what you want to do, you go and do it, simple as that. So he packed up his bags, called Kravitz to let him know where he was going, and set off first thing in the mid-afternoon.

A week later, Taako strode through the massive main gates of the oldest city in Faerun, purse slung over one shoulder, umbrella dangling from his wrist, big hat shading his brow and brand new sunglasses on his face. The part of him that was still wrapped up in his self-preservation hated the city. Too many folks stuck too close together was a recipe for trouble, and he'd never been all that big on people to begin with. But another part of him loved striding through the city like it was his own private catwalk, loved the stares he got from passers-by, loved any excuse to swish and swagger like the peacock he knew he was.

(Taako rarely let himself get wrapped up in his own vanity anymore — Wonderland had clipped those wings pretty good — but there were days when he caught an updraft and felt his ego soar, and he relished them.)

He made his way to his destination with purpose, paying only enough attention to avoid the wagons careening through the streets and the occasional pothole or errant pedestrian. Taako did have a reason to come to Neverwinter specifically, after all. He had no desire to delay it, even if it was the middle of the day and he hadn't found a place to stay yet. He'd sort that out later. This took precedence.

By the time Taako made his way through the merchant quarter and found the right building (he'd had to double-check the address, Magnus' handwriting was next-level awful) it was half past three and he was starving. Still, he needed to make a proper entrance, so Taako adjusted his sunglasses, tugged on his purse strap, and marched up the steps to the door. He pushed it open and strode through the foyer, up the stairs, and through the second door with the frosted glass and the familiar name on it.

Inside, beside another door, was an tall orc sitting at a spotless wooden desk. Older (or maybe just nervous) with thin gray hairs streaking through his dark hair, pulled back in a ponytail. He was peering through half-moon spectacles as he wrote fastidiously with ink and quill, and didn't look up when Taako entered.

"Sir is busy at the moment," he said politely. "Please take a seat."

Taako didn't break stride. He made right for the second door. The orc noticed a bit too late, and his eyes widened.

"Hey, hey!" he called out, standing from his chair. "He's in a meeting, you can't—"

Taako threw open the door and stepped inside.

The office looked exactly like Taako expected it to; couple of chairs, big desk in the middle, some windows behind it overlooking an avenue. Bookshelves lined the walls, and every shelf was crammed full of books, with the odd knickknack here or there for color, only some of which Taako recognized. On the walls above the shorter shelves were hung wands, souvenirs, degrees from the university, and framed newspaper and magazine articles. All of it, he could tell instantly, was exactly where it was supposed to be. It was the most well-organized chaos he had ever seen.

The boy was leaning back against his desk, legs crossed. His jacket was off, slung over his desk chair, and his usual cap was gone, revealing the head of thick, unruly hair no one had ever been able to tame properly. His attention was on the room's only other occupant (an older woman Taako didn't bother to pay attention to) but he looked up when the door opened, and the expression on his face was worth the week and a half it took to get there.

Taako threw his arms out and grinned. "What's crackin', Angarang?"

Angus, eyes wide and smile even wider, straightened from his desk (still too tall, Taako would never get used to that) and closed the distance between them in two long strides.

"Taako!" he said, pulling him into a brief hug. "Sir, what are you doing here?"

"Oh, you know, I'm in town for a bit," Taako said casually, brushing imaginary dirt off Angus' shirt. "You look good, my dude. New glasses?"

"Same as last time, sir," Angus said with a laugh.

"Really?" Taako feigned skepticism. "Must be the face that's changed."

"I'm sorry, sir," said the orc behind Taako. "I tried to stop him."

"It's okay, Gav," Angus replied, raising a hand. "He's family."

Determined to ignore the sudden sharpness of feeling in his chest, Taako turned around and smirked smugly at the orc named Gav. Gav glared back, but it became more like a pout as he closed the door.

With a little kick of his heel, Taako spun to face Angus. "You feel like food? Because I just got off the road and I am ravenous!"

Angus hesitated, turned to look at the woman in the chair, then back at Taako. "Give me ten minutes?"

"Only because it's you, Ango," said Taako, pinching both his cheeks. "But if I starve out there, it's on your head."

Angus smiled one last time, squeezed Taako's shoulders, then turned back to the woman. As he left the room and closed the door behind him, he heard Angus apologize for the interruption.

"Quite alright," the woman replied, amused. "I had a mother who was the same way."

Taako spent his ten minutes in the waiting room of McDonald Investigations irritating Angus' orc secretary; tapping his foot to a non-existent beat, gently scraping the tip of his umbrella across the hardwood floor, making his chair creak at odd intervals, and generally being a nuisance. The orc steadfastly refused to acknowledge Taako's presence and continued with whatever dull clerical work he had to do.

Taako never liked being ignored.

"Hey, thug."

Gav looked up, slightly annoyed.

"I've been walking all day and I am just parched," he said, gesturing to his throat. "Can I get a glass of water?"

The orc looked off to the side, at the pitcher full of water on a small end table by the door. He looked back to Taako, who smiled innocently. He sighed, and stood from his seat, walked over to the table, took one of the empty glasses from the tray, filled it with water, and went to hand it to Taako.

"Fabulous," said Taako appreciatively, taking the glass.

Gav frowned slightly, acknowledged him with a nod, and turned away. Taako waited patiently for the orc to sit down at his desk again.

"Oh! Could I get a straw?" Taako smiled and pointed at his mouth. "Sensitive teeth."

Now Gav glared at him, visibly biting his tongue. With a flick of his wrist, a golden illusory hand materialized by the pitcher, opened a drawer and plucked out a straw, then floated in front of Taako's face.

"Fancy," Taako muttered, taking the straw as the hand vanished. "Much obliged, homie."

The orc shook his head and returned to his work.

Then he flinched as Taako sipped as loudly and noisily as possible.

This continued for several minutes. When Angus and his client finally emerged from the office, Gav's shoulders visibly slumped in relief.

"Thank you for answering my questions, ma'am," Angus said politely. "I'm sure some of them seemed unnecessary."

"Not at all, detective," the old woman replied. "I appreciate the meeting. I'm more certain than ever that our Museum is in good hands."

Angus smiled and bowed slightly, hands behind his back. The woman returned the gesture (though for her it was more of a nod) and left. After the door closed behind her, Taako set down his glass, stood from his seat and shouldered his umbrella.

"We good?"

"We good," Angus said, walking over and grabbing his cap from a coatrack by the door. "Gavin, close up shop for me, would you?"

"Yes, sir," replied the orc, standing from his seat. "I'll dust up as well, shall I?"

"You don't have to do that, Gav."

Gavin nodded and adjusted his spectacles. "I'm aware, sir."

Angus smiled at him (damn but the boy smiles easily, that has to be a good thing) and waved. "See you on Monday."

Taako followed Angus out, twirling his umbrella as he did so. "You know a good place?"

"I do," Angus said, "and don't even think about picking up the check."

He barked out a laugh. "Good one, Agnes."

"So how are you?"

They were sitting at a wrought iron table outside a pleasant little cafe at the end of the street. Angus had assured him the food was good, but while Taako trusted his judgment more than most, he had played it safe and ordered something impossible to screw up.

"Can't complain," Taako said with a shrug. He quickly snarfed down the last of his BLT. "I mean, I could."

"Of course you could."

"But I won't." He gestured at nothing. "Things are fine. Everything's fine."

Angus stared at him in that way he stared when he didn't believe Taako but didn't want to look like he didn't believe him. Taako was an expert in these sort of double-blind expressions, being a duplicitous bastard himself.

"How's Kravitz?" Angus asked, a little too casually.

"Good," Taako said, matching his tone. "He's busy, most days, is all."

Angus nodded and took a sip of his coffee. "Mhm."

Taako sneered. "Don't give me that 'mhm' shit, boychik. Just ask."

"Fine. How busy is Kravitz?"

"Too busy!" Taako declared, reaching for his tea. "He's out too late and leaves too early. Sometimes he doesn't come home at all, for days on end. Some necromancy cult in the Far Reaches or something. We don't talk about work much."

"That's a shame."

"Totally." Taako leaned back in his seat, cradling his cup in his hands. "I'd be worried he's getting tired of me if he weren't trying to play grab-ass whenever he's there."

"Gross, sir."

"Honestly, the man is insatiable! Like a sexual tyranno—"

Angus flicked his finger. A bit of Taako's tea jumped the rim and splashed on his nose. He wiped it off and glared at the boy, who grinned back at him.

"Goofing on you isn't as fun now that you can fight back," he grumbled, smiling behind his cup.

Angus chuckled — he used to giggle, Taako remembered — and took a sip of his coffee. "So you were bored?"

"Absolutely." Taako took a sip and grimaced, then added more honey. "It is dull as doorknobs in that house, pumpkin. I mean, I was happy to lay down some roots and all, but there's only so many times you can eat your own baking and pull weeds in the garden before you start to lose your marbles."

"You could get a hobby."

"I just named two!" Taako said loudly, throwing a hand in the air.

"Well... yeah," Angus admitted, rubbing the back of his neck. "I meant, like, a new hobby."

"Oh yeah, I'll take up carpentry," Taako scoffed. "That'll be buckets of fun. I can hear Magnus now, lecturing me on how best to carve a duck's asshole."

"It's an option."

Taako flicked a finger of his own. Angus, through a exceptional display of manual dexterity, barely managed to avoid spilling his coffee.

"Hobbies suck." Taako crossed his legs beneath the table. "I'm tired of 'em. This is better. Besides, when's the last time I saw you? You missed last Candlenights."

"And the Bureau reunion, I know." Angus sighed and looked down at the table. "School was so busy, and then setting up the agency..."

"Hey, no tea, no shade, Ango," Taako said gently. "You did what you had to. Place looks great. I'm glad I got to see it."

He smiled, and damn if it didn't make Taako want to smile too. "Thank you, sir. I'm glad, too."

"Shame I wasn't the first, though."

Angus rolled his eyes.

"Really thought I was your favorite."

"Magnus was in town for a trade fair," he explained, biting back a smile. "We ran into each other."

"No, no, it's fine," Taako said, looking away with a pout. "I understand."

"I did call you first, when I got the deed."

"Oh, yeah, on the stone. That's real special."

Angus flicked his finger again. Taako's chair tilted backwards, and he had to lean forward to keep from toppling.

"When did you get this petty?" Taako asked indignantly.

"Couldn't say, sir. Must have picked it up somewhere."

Taako glared at Angus, looking furious. Then he started cracking up. Angus promptly followed suit.

"S'good to see you, pumpkin," he said, wiping a tear from his eye.

"Same here, sir," Angus replied with a grin. "You have a place to stay?"

"Hadn't gotten that far yet," Taako said plainly. "I'm not exactly short of cash, though."

Angus leaned forward and put his hand on the table. "Sir, if you don't stay at my home, I'm going to be very upset."

"Don't have to if you're short on room," Taako said, putting up the most token fight imaginable.

"Sir."

"Alright, okay, jeez." He drank the last of his tea and set down the cup. "You're the boss, bubeleh."

Turned out Angus didn't live too far from the agency; his little second floor apartment was in a townmanor at the edge of the merchant quarter. There was a small garden in the interior courtyard, with some flowers, a large oak, and a couple benches. It was honestly nicer than what Taako had expected.

The boy must have caught him staring at that garden, because he started to explain. "I helped the landlord out of a jam a while back. He cuts me a deal on rent, and I don't have to take a cab to work."

"Nice," Taako said, nodding approvingly. "Already got people under your thumb, huh, Djangus?"

"It's not like that," he said as he pulled his keys from his pocket.

"Oh, yeah, totally. I read you." Taako gave Angus an exaggerated wink. Angus rolled his eyes and opened the door.

The apartment was small and sparsely appointed, with only a simple table and two chairs in the kitchen, and a couch and coffee table in the sitting area off to the right by a little fireplace. There was precious little in the way of decoration. In fact, the only immediate sign that anyone lived here at all were the hats and gloves on the rack next to the door.

"Jeez, Agnes," Taako drawled, taking off his hat. "You ever think about a plant or something?"

Angus paused taking off his jacket. "Yeah, I, uh. Figured I should probably decorate the office first. Gotta make a good impression on the clientele and all that."

"Yeah, but what about the non-clientele?" Taako asked curiously, hanging his umbrella on a coathook. "How are you supposed to invite someone over for a little late night mambo if your apartment looks like a furniture showroom?"

Angus chuckled weakly, and for the first time, Taako detected a hint of nerves. "That's... I'm not exactly —"

"What is it, kiddo?" he asked, concern edging its way into his voice despite his best efforts.

"Nothing," Angus said quickly. "I'm fine. I just — I don't spend a lot of time here, y'know? I'm super busy. Heck, I don't even know anyone outside of school or work! So—"

"So what?" he asked. "Why not invite one of them? You gotta have a life that ain't work, Ango."

"It's not that simple," he said defensively.

"Sure it is!" Taako reached over and grabbed him by the shoulders. It was the most comforting thing he could think to do in the moment, which probably said something about his instincts. "Just buy a plant, put up a painting, and say you wanna play tiddlywinks at your place!"

"What does that mean?" Angus asked, scandalized. "She wouldn't p—"

His eyes widened and he shut his mouth faster than you could blink. Taako stared at the boy, and a crooked grin slowly assembled itself on his face.

"She?"

Angus said nothing.

"Pumpkin. Cookie. Peaches." Taako removed his hands and clasped them together. "Do you have a crush?"

"No!" Angus said, then closed his eyes and winced, defeated. "Please don't ask."

"But I must, I must!" Taako threw an arm around Angus' neck and leaned on him. "Bubeleh. You know I won't judge. I mean I will, but for you I'd keep it all to myself."

Angus shook his head.

"Oh, please?" Taako whined. "Come on. Just a name!"

"I think it's time I went to bed, sir."

Taako pouted, and released the boy with a sigh. "Fiiiiiine. You keep your secret. But it won't stay secret for long! You're smart enough to know that."

Angus breathed a sigh of relief, running a hand through his hair. He promptly changed the subject. "I can sleep on the couch, if you want the bed. Is there anything you need? You don't have any luggage, so—"

"Oh, I do!" Taako said cheerily, then pulled a small model tent from his pocket. He tossed it on the floor and in less than a second, a six foot tall, two-foot wide pup tent popped into existence in Angus' living room. Taako pulled the cloth door-flap aside to reveal six large pieces of luggage (and a small clutch) sitting in the much larger magical confines of the Pocket Spa.

"Don't have to worry about me, my guy," Taako said smugly. "I've got plenty of room to stretch out."

Angus smiled sheepishly. "Right. Forgot you had that."

"Needed a place to set it up, though," said Taako, waving the door-flap. "Doesn't exactly have a lock. You want in? Seems like you could use a spa evening."

"Nah, I'm alright. Thanks, sir."

"Suit yourself." He stepped inside and held the flap open to say, "Night, kiddo."

Angus smiled and waved as he turned away. "Good night, sir."

Taako watched him walk back down a short hallway to what must have been his bedroom. He closed the door-flap and stepped into the Pocket Spa with a sigh, then started to take off his jewelry.

This visit had certainly been the right move — the kid clearly needed some company that wasn't attached to his work life. Obviously Taako wasn't ideal — that'd be whoever this crush was, and wasn't he tickled to learn about that — but every little bit had to help. He got the distinct feeling Angus was wearing a bit thin. Not the same carefree kid from back in the day, trolling around the Sword Coast with Taako and Kravitz before he heard the siren song of higher learning and left the nest. Those were good times. The best years of Taako's life.

And if he was honest with himself, the whole reason he was there.

Taako had a certain level of self-awareness, even if he did his best to fight it at every turn. There were at least three ex-Bureau members closer than Angus, Magnus included, and as reluctant as Taako was to admit it, he enjoyed all their company. But puttering around that empty house, spending time looking at the mementos scattered over every room... when he'd finally had enough, there'd only been one person Taako wanted to see.

With a snap of his fingers, Taako's arcane cosmetics fizzled out; he would have taken them off the moment he crossed into Angus' apartment, but there was still that part of him that wanted Angus to see the best of him, and not his (many, manifold) imperfections. He made a point of avoiding the full length mirror on the far wall of the spa as he changed into his pajamas, then opened up one of the trunks sitting on the floor and pulled out a blanket and pillow.

As he climbed into one of the lounge chairs, Taako decided Angus shouldn't know. No point to it. The boy had enough to worry about; no need to add Taako to the list just because the stupid elf had forgotten what solitude felt like. This is what attachment does, that small, selfish voice in his head told him. Makes you soft. Makes you weak. You used to live like this. Now you get a little lonely and you go running to a child.

Taako growled something unpleasant under his breath and flicked his wrist. The alchemical lights hanging in the Pocket Spa dimmed, and he shut his eyes.

No, Angus shouldn't know. But he probably already did.

He was just good enough not to say anything.