#so he's not some all-knowing expert on the faith or anything

[butwhatifidothis]

(regarding the Fort Merceus scene)

"Claude doesn't know as much about the Seiros faith because he's an outsider" thanks for ignoring the entire point of Claude's route just to insist he doesn't grow as a character

Ohhh wait, no, it's not that he's not knowledgeable, it's just him definitely lying! Because disagreements? Regarding tenets of a religion? Impossible! Claude must be feigning ignorance and lying because that's all he does as a character! He's tricking the diligent Lorenz into thinking things that aren't true, because Church Bad and Claude would never tell the truth!

[navybrat817]

Hollow

Pairing: Mob!Bucky Barnes x Female Reader

Summary: Bucky touches on memories from the past and wants to start a new tradition with you.

Word Count: Over 2.3k

Warnings: Explicit sexual content, unprotected vaginal fingering, dirty talk, slight use of knife, established relationship, feels (it's me), Bucky Barnes (he's a warning, okay?).

A/N: Fic #7 for Navy's Trick or Treat Nonsense! Newlywed Mob!Bucky won the poll.❤️ Not beta read and written on my phone, so any and all mistakes are my own. Divider by the talented @firefly-graphics . Please follow @navybrat817-sideblog for new fics and notifications. Comments, reblogs, feedback are loved and appreciated!

A different side of Bucky came out when the leaves began to change. Subtle, but different. It wasn't noticeable to most since he showed people what he wanted them to see. It was a skill he perfected over the years, almost as if he wore a mask to hide his true self. What you saw, however, was ice in his eyes, the same that no doubt ran through his veins. Something weighed on his heart and mind.

You were determined to get to the bottom of it.

As his partner, it wasn't just your job to chase his demons away, but a need to protect him from whatever haunted or hunted him. You wanted to soothe him and let him know he wasn't alone. You knew if the roles were reversed that he'd eliminate anything or anyone that removed the light from your eyes. To have someone that loved you that much was still a bit of a dream.

How thin is the line between love and obsession?

“I can hear you thinking from here, Printsessa,” Bucky said. He knew you were watching him as he sat in his study, even as he focused on something else in front of him. He didn’t turn his back to anyone, except for you. He knew you would never put a knife in it. That was how much faith and trust he had in you. “Don’t want to join me?”

“I didn’t want to interrupt,” you replied, walking further into the room so you could get a better look at him. He had the sleeves of his button up shirt rolled up, giving you a moment to admire his metal left arm and the tattoos on the right. He commanded the room without standing.

“It's never an interruption if it's you,” he reminded you.

He twirled one of his signature knives between his fingers before he went back to work. The love of your life was an expert in many weapons, but had an affinity for knives. While it didn’t surprise you to find the head of the Bratva with a weapon in hand, you hadn’t expected to see a pumpkin in front of him. “Pumpkin carving? You’re just full of surprises.”

He snorted a little. “I like that I can surprise you.”

Watching him start to carve a pattern in the pumpkin with ease, his eyes narrowed in concentration and hand moving with care, was like a dance. He led with confidence and control. It was a beautiful thing to witness.

“Do you know why some people carve pumpkins?”

You finally took a seat beside him on the sofa, resting a hand on his thigh. His muscles relaxed and you wondered what had him so tense. “I think most do it today to decorate, but some do it to ward off evil spirits,” you said, moving your hand in slow, circular motions as he hummed in acknowledgement. “Is someone haunting you? Do I need to scare them away?”

He tilted his head, a glimmer of pride flickering in his blue eyes as he smiled. “You’d scare them away? You don't think I can handle them myself?”

“I have no doubt you could handle them on your own,” you said with complete certainty. He more than earned his Winter Soldier nickname. “But if something or someone is after you, I want to help.”

He studied you as he lowered his knife and covered your hand with his, holding it like a lifeline. Some protected and fought for him because it was their sense of duty. Others did so out of loyalty to his bloodline. You did it out of love.

Because you did love him.

“No one is after me. At least not today,” he assured you, bringing your hand to his mouth to kiss it. “But thank you.”

“Then why are you holding my hand like you can't let go?”

The look he gave you melted your heart a bit. “Because I don't want to let you go.”

It was almost as if he was worried you'd bolt if he released you. The only time you'd run would be when you wanted him to chase you. Or maybe he imagined someone would try to take you away from him. He'd never let anyone get you. “What's on your mind then?”

And how do I help?

“My family,” he admitted, your eyebrows shooting up in surprise. “My mom used to carve pumpkins. I haven't done it in years.”

You didn’t speak for a moment. His family wasn’t a topic he discussed much, so you didn’t want to say the wrong thing. “Did she teach you how?”

A faint smile appeared and fell just as quickly. “She did,” he said, admiring his handiwork. “I thought it was strange at first, you know? Encouraging me to pull out the insides and leave it hollow. And to carve a face? It almost seemed like a form of torture. Probably why dad demanded I use a decent knife.”

He didn’t hide the hint of anger when he mentioned his dad. You turned your hand over so your palm connected with his, letting him squeeze it to ground him. “But that’s not why your mom did it. She was teaching you to do something beautiful instead of harmful.”

“That's exactly what she did,” he agreed, leaning forward to pick up the knife. “It also encouraged my critical thinking skills. You can’t just dive in without a plan. You have to think it through.”

Bucky sometimes teased that his best friend, Steve, was the man with a plan. The truth was, they both were. Each brilliant in their own way, there was a reason they stayed in power and why so many feared them.

“And I felt proud when she displayed them. Valued,” he continued, his voice a little choked up before he cleared his throat. “It was a tradition I didn't realize I missed.”

Maybe the nostalgia was the reason his eyes looked a bit colder in the fall. “Sounds like a beautiful memory,” you said.

“I hadn’t formed beautiful memories in years until you came along,” he said, his lips skimming your temple. “But you're my family now.”

Tears didn't fill your eyes, but you felt them in your throat. The man was ruthless when the occasion called for it. Terrifying in his rage. You were the lucky one who would never be on the receiving end of it. Only his love. His need. But you could take his rage if you had to.

Like his old memories, you could make it something beautiful.

“You're my family, too,” you told him. You hadn't expected that of Bucky when you met and part of you wanted to stay away from the dangerous world he helped rule, but how could you not want a life with him?

His gaze softened, which warmed your heart. “And I would feel very proud if you helped me finish this,” he said, moving further back against the cushion and opening his legs for you to sit between them. “Maybe it can be the start of our own tradition.”

Your heart raced as you stood up and took a seat on the edge of the cushion, exhaling as he pressed himself against you. “I’m not good at this,” you said, closing your hand around the handle as he placed the knife in it. You didn’t want to ruin the intricate design he already worked so hard on.

His warm breath tickled your ear as he whispered, “We’ll do it together.”

“Guide me?” You asked.

“Of course, Printsessa.”

At the root of everything, Bucky was a man who didn’t want to walk this earth alone. Power and money meant nothing if he didn’t have someone to share himself with. It would’ve left him as hollow as the pumpkins he worried about carving as a child. And if helping him finish this one would make him happy, you’d do just that.

Time passed as he helped you cut into the pumpkin and urged you to follow the stencil, the smell from the pumpkin seeds off to the side bringing a pleasant layer to Bucky's woodsy cologne. There was something intimate about him having you close, his hand directing where yours should go. Like when he taught you how to properly shoot a gun. He said you didn't need his help, but he gave it to you all the same.

Your hold almost slipped when his metal hand snaked between your thighs, softly rubbing your pussy through your underwear. It barely covered your mound, just like your flimsy nightgown. “How am I supposed to concentrate?” you asked, arching as he firmly pressed his palm against you.

“You asked me to guide you. I will,” he said, the light scratch from his scruff making goosebumps rise on your skin.

“You're distracting me,” you whispered, trying to keep your breathing nice and steady.

“Would distracting you be so bad?” he whispered back close to your ear. “We're almost done.”

His fingers gently played with your clit through the fabric, drawing a breathy sigh from you as you squirmed. His almost feathery touch made you all the more determined to finish up, especially since he refused to let you close your thighs to get any friction. You were on the edge of release and he was relentless in loving you.

But he didn't let you come.

“Good girl,” he praised once you finished carving, stopping his fingers as you set the knife down. You bit back a whimper as the rising pleasure faded. “It's beautiful.”

“It is,” you breathed. Instead of a smiling face you saw on so many pumpkins around Halloween, he designed a merged sun and moon. “It's us, isn't it?”

“It is,” he replied, pressing a kiss to your shoulder before he gestured for you to hand him another knife. “You're my sun.”

“That makes you my moon,” you said, stiffening when you felt the blade at your shoulder. “What are you-”

Bucky sliced through your strap and kissed your bare skin. “I'm starting a new tradition,” he said, doing the same to the other side before he slid your nightgown down. He dragged the knife across your exposed breasts, taking great care not to cut you. “Carve a pumpkin. Cut your clothes off. Make you come.”

“You mean tease my pussy without getting me off,” you said without much bite.

He chuckled, a deep rumble as he set the knife aside. “I always get you off. I’m going to make you feel so good, Solynshko.”

With gentle kisses along your jaw and neck, his large hand slid up to fondle your breasts. The rough pads of his fingers teased your nipples as you gasped and reached back to grasp his hair. He moaned as you twisted your fingers in the strands, his hand sliding down to your wet heat again. Thankfully, he didn't tease you through the fabric this time. His fingers dipped into your underwear and you knew he was eager to feel your arousal.

Everything in your core tightened when he caressed your folds. You met his gaze as you tilted your head back, wanting him to see your desperation as his gaze darkened. “Make me come, please.”

“People beg me for money. Power. Mercy,” he said in a low voice, nuzzling your cheek as he sank a finger in, your walls contracting around him. “Not you. It's only pleasure you ask for.”

“It's you I'm begging for,” you admitted in a whisper. Even when you pushed or questioned why he wanted you of all people, you gave him your love. You yielded only to him and you would never bend your will for anyone else. To deny him would be to deny yourself.

He brushed his lips along your jaw and dipped another finger in as you shuddered. “You begging for me to fuck your pretty pussy with my fingers? Make you ruin this couch before I give you my cock?”

Your head fell back against his shoulder as you bit your lip. “Yes, I am. Ruin me. Love me,” you moaned.

“I love you more than anything,” he promised as your eyes slipped shut, dots of white dancing behind your eyelids.

He gripped your jaw to turn your head back to him, seeking out your lips with his. There was nothing tentative in the kiss, his ice meeting your fire and creating an explosion of need within both of you. Your body hummed as you felt the peak of your impending climax, ready for him to tear you apart.

“Come for me, Printsessa,” he demanded against your lips.

Your pussy clamped around his fingers as you lost yourself to the daze of your orgasm, shamelessly crying out his name. Your juices dripped down his fingers as he helped you ride it out, praising you in your ear and guiding you the way he did with the carving. He was telling the truth before: He always got you off.

“Are you okay?” you asked once you caught your breath, the question you meant to ask the moment you entered his study. He seemed more at ease, though lust now clouded his eyes.

“I'm okay,” he said in a rough voice, slowly pulling his fingers out as you sagged against him. He pulled you closer, enveloping you in his strong arms. It was safe. It was home. “But I think you need my cock.”

“I think I need it, too,” you smiled once you caught your breath, knowing his cock likely twitched in his pants as he tasted you on his fingers. “And you owe me a new nightgown.”

“I ordered you a new one before you came in here,” he said, his expression smug as you turned your head to stare at him. “Now sit on my cock. We have a long night ahead of us.”

“Bossy Pakhan,” you teased.

But if giving you orgasms, ruining your clothes, and making new memories brought the light back in his eyes, you wouldn't complain.

Oh, to belong to him. Love and thanks for reading! 🧡

Masterlist ⚓ Bucky Barnes Masterlist ⚓ Ko-Fi

[mediumgayitalian]

“Oh, come on, there’s just —” Will blows an errant curl from out of his eyes, cheeks red with exertion, balancing nimbly on his feet to put both hands on his hips. “There’s no way, Nico.”

Nico, not blessed with such balance, has to hold all footholds with all limbs, staring warily at the lava wall’s snake holes.

“What? I’m just not as good as you.”

Will flops his right arm outwards, narrowly avoiding smacking it against the rock. “But you are!”

Nico shifts his wary gaze from the snake holes to Will’s rope harness. Is it tight enough? It better be tight enough. Will is putting a lot of faith in it, right now.

“You scaled those cliffs in — in the place —” he trips, still, over the pit, on the odd time he mentions it, and it always makes Nico wince — “like it was nothing! And whenever Percy visits and challenges you you’re suddenly the lava wall expert!” He turns stern blue eyes to face Nico’s head-on. “Not buying it, di Angelo!”

A gush of lava forces him to resume climbing, but there’s an aggression to his movements — a specific, stiff, curated aggression, that Nico has learned means anxiety in people known as William Andrew Solace. That, and coupled with the rapid muttering which, in between the roar of molten stone, Nico believes is a a repetition of “dumbass” “always tryna act a goddamn fool” and “I’m gonna kill him before he sends me into cardiac arrest again”, interspersed with random swears in English, Latin, Ancient Greek, and also — gods — Klingon.

“Will.”

Will ignores him, scampering the last few feet up the wall and slapping the top before relaying down. Nico sighs, following him (albeit significantly slower).

“Will.”

“You’re hiding something from me.” He practically rips the harness off his body — do not think about that do not think about that do not think about that — and shoves it on the hook so hard it damn near snaps off. The look he levels in Nico’s direction practically turns him to stone, it’s so frigid, and he has to resist a shiver. “I can tell.”

It takes a good amount of pushing to make Will all testy like this. Sure, his buttons are easy to push, but most of that is for show. He likes to be dramatic. (Especially because he knows Nico will indulge him, more than anyone else ever has. He relishes in it, Nico thinks; he likes that Nico will watch his productions. An Apollo kid through and through.) He’s not usually one to show his genuine frustration.

But, hoo, boy, when he is frustrated.

Nico has a bad, bad habit of making it worse.

(As if it’s his fault that Will’s hot when he’s mad.)

“Don’t know what you’re talking about,” Nico says, forcibly lightly. He sticks his hand out defiantly. “Check me, why don’t you? Not hiding anything.”

He really isn’t. No injuries, no illness, hell, he’s not even tired. Had a full three meals and everything. Even his perpetually achey joints aren’t bad today.

All of this, obviously, is communicated when Will touches him, squinting suspiciously at their joined hands.

“You’re heart rate is high,” he mutters petulantly.

Nico looks at him patiently. “That’s ‘cause my smokeshow boyfriend is holding my hand.”

Grumpy as he’s trying to be, his ears redden. A smile twitches at the corner of his mouth.

“Shut up.”

Nico grins, pulling his hand up to his mouth and pressing a kiss to the knuckles.

“No.”

“Whatever,” Will says, snatching his hand back. His smile spreads widely across his face, now, and he looks away, as pleased as he is exasperated. “You’re still being a weirdo. I should not be so far ahead of you on the wall, Neeks.”

Success — back to nicknames. Crisis averted.

“Have you considered that you’re the camp-wide record holder for a reason, you spider monkey?”

“Still!”

“Yeah, yeah.” Nico gets up on his tiptoes, pressing a lingering kiss to the bridge of his freckled nose. “Stop worrying about me, Solace. I’m fine. Burn off some steam, I’ll watch.”

Will huffs. “Fine. But I’ll find out, y’hear me? Truth can’t hide from me for long.”

“Yeah, yeah.”

He watches as Will suits back up, helping him with his more complicated straps (because Nico was raised to be a gentleman, obviously, why else) and shooing him away when he opens his mouth for more interrogations. He switches to sticking out his tongue, and after a moment of hesitation, bounds back over to his first true love — being a big nerdy jock dork.

Nico settles on the grass several feet away from the wall, pretending to clean his sword. After a few minutes, he hears footsteps, and two people sit next to him on either side.

“So,” says Lou Ellen, ignoring Nico’s suspicious look as she tosses a glowing ball of something around, “how come you’re not climbing?”

Nico shrugs. “Only so many times you can climb before it gets boring.”

On his other side, Cecil makes a loud buzzer sound.

“Nope! Wrong answer. Try again.”

Nico is a dignified grownup who refuses to stoop down to Cecil’s level by responding. Instead, he reaches over and pokes him in his ridiculously sensitive ribs, hard, sending him sprawling with a screech.

“Shut up,” he says mildly, as his friend flails. “I’m trying to be a supportive boyfriend, and I can’t do that with all your whining.”

Will has, in the ten minutes since he started, made it halfway up the wall. He seems to have it programmed to the Super Extra Mega Evil Insane mode that the Athena and Ares kids invented just for him, since he smoked all the other levels. He dodges a shot of lava with a laugh, throwing himself to the side and hanging on with three fingers and one scuffed sneaker poised on the tiniest sliver of rock. His attention is broken when Lou Ellen sticks her face right in Nico’s field of vision, tracing Nico’s eyeline with narrowed eyes.

“Ah,” she nods knowingly. “You’re staring at his ass.”

Nico falters, damn near slicing his own fingers off. “No idea what you’re talking about,” he says blithely. He gestures without looking at his sword. “I’m busy, see?”

She scoffs. “Real busy. That’s why you almost just did emergency surgery on yourself.”

“Exactly.”

Will pushes up a foot, shifting his hips and launching himself upwards. He makes a little shout of victory, plastering himself to the wall to keep balance, every muscle tensed.

From his place on the floor, Cecil makes an appreciative noise. “He does have a nice ass. Can’t blame you for looking.”

Nico frowns. “Hey. Stop objectifying my boyfriend.” He reaches out and smacks a hand over Cecil’s eyes. “That’s my job.”

“You guys are ridiculous.”

Nico reaches over and puts a hand over her eyes, too, ‘cause there’s no missing where they’re pointed.

“Shut up or I’ll literally put shadows into your retinae and blind you forever,” Nico threatens. (Is this a thing he can do? No. Do his friends know this? Also no.)

“You’re a dictator!” Cecil protests.

“Depriving us of basic human rights!” Lou Ellen agrees.

Nico shrugs. He glances back up the the climbing wall, where he has a very perfect view — and a great reason to never even try to climb faster than Will does. He grins.

“Too bad for you guys.”

[pinkiemachine]

BATMAN: GOTHAM FILES - SEASON TWO

OKAY, so this season starts off with a spectacular BANG! Joker makes his debut, causes a ton of mayhem for the Dynamic Duo, but of course, in the end, the heroes save the day. Here’s some sketches of Joker I’ve been working on…

Still not sure if this is what I wanna go with. Like I said, work in progress.

Anyway, what really matters is what happens after Joker gets defeated. He’s thrown into Arkham Asylum, for the Criminally Insane, and the doctors there attempt to treat him. Namely, one Harleen Quinzel. This does not go well. Instead of her being able to bring Joker back to sanity, he manipulates her and gets her to cross over to the insane side, becoming his twisted on-again off-again lover, and they break out of Arkham together.

But this is all happening in the background while the rest of the season goes on. The real highlight of Season 2, aside from revisiting classic villains and meeting new ones, is the arrival of BATGIRL! Now, Barbara Gordon (17) was going to get a law degree after high school, but after seeing what sort of corruption there was in Gotham from her father’s police job, she’d lost faith in the system. Instead, she became inspired by Batman to take matters into her own hands. Batman initially tries to tell her to stop—she’s just going to get herself hurt—but then she manages to make a strong case for herself. She’s smart, she’s been taking self-defence classes since she was three, she knows the criminal justice system, she’s passionate about making a difference, Robin’s allowed to fight crime despite being four years younger than her, and… she’s not going to take no for an answer. Batman begrudgingly agrees to let her help, especially after she saves his life on a mission, but he has one condition: no crime fighting alone. She must always have backup. He’s not about to let the police captain’s—now Commissioner’s—daughter get hurt on his watch. Because he knows who she really is. Because he’s a detective.

So now they’re the fanatic threesome. I should also mention that there is NO Dick X Barbara. He’s 13 now, she’s 17, both going on 14 and 18. He’s like a little brother to her. Moving on.

Some time goes by, more baddies get thrown into Arkham, and then… Bruce meets Catwoman. It happened on a cold night when Bruce was soloing it as Batman. Dick was behind on his homework, Barbara was taking time off to rest, so he was all by himself when he got called in to investigate a series of expert burglaries/murders. He had to admit, she was good at what she did. Barely a trace of her was left behind… but barely was enough. He figured out her next target and then had her captured in one fell swoop. Catwoman. It’s not like she was a brawler or anything, just a cat burglar. It was during their ride in the Batmobile later that they got to talk some and learn about each other. Bruce questioned her about the two other robberies—ones where people died—and Selina pleaded innocent. She never killed people. Then, surprising Batman, she managed to escape from right under his nose. They would meet again, though, when he and Selina teamed up to catch the other burglar who had attempted to frame Selina with murder. The two had formed something of an attachment. Selina found Bruce attractive, and Bruce thought she had some good in her (and was also attractive), and they both found themselves wanting to see each other again some time. Purely for work purposes. Bruce only wanted her to face justice. There was totally NO OTHER reason. *cough cough* I have a post where I talk more about her and her relationship with Bruce.

Moving on, there’s an episode where we briefly head to Star City and meet The Flash, but THEN we get introduced to Ghostmaker. A fellow vigilante from Bruce’s past. His rival… and friend. He had also been one of Ra’s’s top students and they had fought often, but the main difference between them was that Ghostmaker was willing to kill. Bruce wasn’t. They have some funny, witty, exciting times when he comes to visit Gotham, but in the end, Bruce establishes that Gotham is his city. And there will be no killing in his city.

Grande finale sees the return of the Joker, alongside Harley Quinn’s debut!

And guess who they’re working alongside? TONY ZUCCO!! Dick has his revenge arc, trying to chase Zucco down, but in the end… all those years of Bruce’s training keep his hands from committing the most horrible act. I mean, Dick does rough him up, but in the end, Zucco gets sentenced to life in prison. Now Dick can finally let go. He can finally visit his parents’ grave with a clear conscience. They would be proud of him for what he did. They would be proud knowing their son was not a killer.

So that’s season 2 :)

Part 3 👇

Part 1 👇

More of Bruce and Selina 👇

[aebinspa]

let's kill the romeo

PAIRING: ricky x y/n reader

GENRES: angst, fluff at the end, rude ricky but with a motive, fashion world!au, enemies to lovers that never been enemies, reader doesn't know his feelings, ricky has always been faithful, wendy (rv) is reader's best friend, wendy only did damage but at least she was hot, misunderstandings distance ricky and reader until in the final part everything is resolved for the best, second hand embarrassment

WORD COUNT: 4.4k

AUTHOR'S NOTE: english is not my first language! this story was born in my mind in one way but ended up becoming something else. i'm not happy with it, i wanted to delete it. i wrote it in many days, between one commitment and another, and I made it even worse. i hope that by publishing it someone can still appreciate it! :(

A last-minute black V-neck dress, heels borrowed from your best friend, and a vintage clutch your grandmother left you wouldn’t be enough to save you from the embarrassment of being at a party full of billionaires. It was all your best friend's fault, a famous ambassador for a luxury superbrand who had invited her to bring a companion. And when she asked you to come with her, you couldn't help but say yes; she was your only friend.

"Y/n, what's wrong?" your best friend asks you innocently. “It’s all too much…” “I know, but the party won’t last very long. A chat over there with the CEO of Dolce & Gabbana, an hour at the buffet, and everything will pass” “I don’t know anyone…” “I just saw a colleague of mine over there! I'm going to her!” The idea of rushing straight to the buffet and spending the entire party there seemed alright to you.

Having grabbed some snacks and established some rules with yourself such as “Don’t look men in the eye for too long”, “Don’t stare at other women’s clothes” and “Don’t drink too much alcohol”, you sat down on the first available chair to enviously watch all the beautiful women in the huge ballroom of the villa where the party was being held. How beautiful it must be to be so tall and slender.

After an hour of contemplation you realized that you had completely lost sight of your best friend and, huffing loudly stressed by the situation, you thanked the first waiter you found and took two glasses of wine to drink. With a heavy step, you headed towards a door that had caught your attention. The door was all dressed up in shiny gold, making it look super fancy. Laurel leaves wrapped around the edges, also in gold, adding a nice touch to the whole thing. It stood out and made the entrance feel special, catching the attention of anyone who walked by. How tacky.

After looking around to make sure no one could see you, you tried to gently open the door, which turned out to be open to your great surprise. Inside, in a small room with a velvet sofa in the center, paintings were displayed on the walls, which—even though you were no expert in the field—seemed strangely familiar and extremely expensive.

“This painting by Monet is particularly mesmerizing, isn't it?” You almost jumped in the air with fright and the glasses - previously in your hands - fell to the ground and broke, and the terribly expensive wine ended up spilling all over the imposing figure who had whispered in your ear a second before. “Oh God I'm sorry, are you okay?” Even though you were trying to dry the Valentino tuxedo he was wearing with your hands, the boy didn’t seem to be upset and kept his posture straight. “Do you have any idea how much it costs?” he asked, looking you up and down. “No?”

The blond ran his hand furiously through his hair. Tall, handsome, blond, definitely rich, and, the cherry on top, unbearable. Why me? “Can I pay for the laundry?” “That wouldn’t solve anything” I have two pennies in my account, there’s not much I can do, idiot. “Well then I'll go” You didn't even realize it, but the boy stood in front of the door to block the exit.

“You’re not leaving. You have two problems to solve.” “Which ones, your majesty?” you asked with your eyebrow raised. A cheap dandy didn't scare you. “First, the shards of the glasses you broke. Second, my fine tuxedo" “I can't take the glasses in my hands, I risk dying, you know how it is,” the look he gave you to intimidate you was of little use “And then, speaking of your cheap tuxedo, I offered to pay for your laundry but you refused!" “In no world can someone repay a Valentino jacket and pants with a machine wash?”

Oh, if only you could have hit him, but everything in there could have been traced back to you. From the fingerprints on the door to the fingerprints on the glasses. “There’s a way.” “Let’s hear the bullshit, little prince.” I’ll leave as soon as you say it, asshole. “Work for me. A week as my secretary will be enough for you to pay me back the suit" The satisfied smile that appeared on the blond's face as soon as he saw your mouth open in amazement was not a pretty sight to see.

“How… what… You’re crazy. I’m leaving” You didn’t even have time to turn around before the boy grabbed your arm and forced you to turn and face him. “Leave me alone” “It costs six thousand euros” “What?” “My suit” “Ah”

Maybe it would have been better to mind your own business from the beginning. Maybe it would have been better to eat everything on the buffet: it would have cost you less. This time you felt guilty. “I… I’m sorry, I don’t have the money to pay you back, so, let me go” “No, as soon as you step foot out of this room I’ll go tell the CEO everything. We are great friends and, well, colleagues.” He flashes another of his annoying little smiles.

“Who cares, I don't owe you anything except laundry and a clean shirt” “You owe me a week as my assistant, otherwise it won't be you who will be affected, but those you know” "Excuse me?" “You’re not a model and you don’t work in the luxury fashion industry. You must have accompanied someone. It only takes me two seconds to find out who brought you here and you’ll see what a guy like me can do, besides buying a luxury suit” Now you were in real trouble. Getting your best friend involved meant ending up on the list of shitty friends to quickly forget about.

“Threats are illegal and you're threatening me. I will work for you for a week, but you dare use that tone with me again, just once, and I will make your life hell” It must have been the bloodshot look you were giving him or the way your hands were shaking as you said it, but the boy, faced with such a scene, responded by laughing. “Then I’ll see you on Monday. Give me your number, and I’ll have the company secretary contact you” “Okay” What a situation. It would have been better to binge myself to death.

“Your name?” “What?” “What’s your name?” he asked you again, adding a raised eyebrow to his already rude tone of voice. “Y/n” “Nice to meet you, I’m Ricky and I work as a modeler for Valentino.” The handshake you shared was colder than the weather at the top of Mount Everest.

“You're late” “No one pays me to arrive early” “I'm paying you” “So you're paying me with money that I'll use to pay you back? Brilliant” “You’re giving me your time, honey. Don’t forget that” Not only were you dressed head to toe in clothes that cost more than you’d ever earned in your life, but you were wearing the highest, most uncomfortable heels you’d ever tried on.

Ricky led you to his desk, from which you could keep an eye on both his office - or creative lab, as he called it - and the main entrance. The little prince wanted to know everything that was happening nearby. A thud brought you back to reality. Ricky had just slammed a countless pile of folders and loose papers onto your desk.

“What should I do with them?” “They’re sketches, divide them by collection. You’ll find the collection written on the back, I don’t expect you to be able to recognize a common theme” Too bad I can’t spit in your face, idiot. You replied with a fake smile and watched him walk away. If only he didn't have this bad temper, he wouldn't even be so bad to look at. The work you had to do wasn't that boring after all. While you spent your time shuffling papers, you saw a considerable number of people coming and going: men and women who in turn were full of sketches, and fabrics and were sweating coldly at the mere thought of being late. This Ricky must be quite important. The only things you understood were that your boss was a huge asshole and that he worked relentlessly. At closing time, while everyone was leaving, the blond one still seemed intent on continuing to work for more hours. As the very responsible secretary you were, you couldn't allow your boss to reach a point of no return and so you set off to open the door that led to his office.

Another woman opened it quicker than you. You didn’t realize it and neither did Ricky. Panic took over your body because you had just broken the first rule: don’t let anyone in who isn’t on the list. That woman was not only not on the list, but she was the only one circled in red as “the only person who should never enter my office”

“Shen Quanrui, you poor bastard, answer my calls instead of pretending nothing happened!” the beautiful woman who stood in front of the blond shouted, visibly angry, and from behind you noticed that she had an incredible back. Oh, Ricky… Why do you have all these beautiful women around you?

The blond looked away from the woman who was yelling at him, whispering, “You idiot, why did you let her in?” You responded with a frown. “Ricky, why do you have a new secretary after firing me not even a week ago? “Because I needed one.” “Then why did you fire me and make me look incompetent?” Scream after scream, but seeing Ricky suffer from earaches because of another one made you particularly happy.

“I have no intention of marrying you, you know that, so, I don’t want to have any more contact with you” “I don’t give a shit Ricky, your father said you have to marry me and you will” “I’m not my father” “But your father is the head of this company and the one you owe everything you have now! You will lose everything if you don’t marry me and stop being a child” The woman looked at you and the other with contempt before slamming the door shut and yelling a “Fuck you!” in the hallway.

You started to look intently at Ricky who, overcome by despair, let himself fall with all his weight on his desk chair. “Why does it always have to end like this?” he ran a hand through his hair. “Do you need something to drink?” You asked worried. I even have the nerve to worry about someone who treated me like a doormat. “Actually yes, let's go have a drink Y/n” “Ah yes sure sure. You and me having a drink together. Nice joke" “I'll pay” “Okay, you win, prince of my boots”

“So you're the son of the big boss and I'm just a poor bitch you picked up at the last minute to save your ass after firing your very loyal, money-loving secretary who your father decided you should marry? Well, The Bold and the Beautiful is a cheap soap opera in comparison!” A stifled chuckle escaped the mouth of your, albeit unpleasant, attractive boss.

“All the women in my life have ended up the same way. They met me, maybe fell in love with me a few times, and then my father somehow convinced them to marry me.” “If your father came to me begging me to marry you for a few million euros, I’m sure I would make the same decision as your ex-secretary and the women your father somehow convinced to be part of your life.” Another giggle.

“You know Y/n, I’m not that much of an asshole” “You all say that. Yet you threatened me and forced me to work for you” “I was desperate, I should have explained everything to you right away” Maybe in his heart, Ricky was sorry for everything. Those eyes with which he looked at you showed much more than he had shown you in those few moments spent together.

“I watched you all night at my dad’s party and laughed out loud watching you twiddle food and glasses of wine in your hands. You were a real fish out of water” This time it was your mouth that let out a giggle. “It wasn’t really my place” “Apparently not. But it’s not my place either. I want to do fashion and as soon as I can I’ll leave my dad’s company and start my own” “You dream big, I’ve never been able to do that” “It’s the first time I’ve said it out loud” “It’s the alcohol, Ricky” “Or maybe it’s you, Y/n”

When the feeling of saying too much hit you both, Ricky was the first to move and asked for the bill, and you broke the eerie silence that had been created. “I’ll do this week and disappear from your life. No marriage and no second-class woman in your life. I’ll finish what I have to finish and I’ll pay you back. You’ll go back to your life” “It seems fair”

You walked out the pub's front door but didn’t even say goodbye. The cold hit your face and forced you to wake up from that dream you thought you were living. Who knows how Ricky must have felt every time a woman in his life showed she was more interested in his father’s money than in him? “Well, treat me well” “What?” “I won’t let you treat me like an idiot anymore. Change your ways. Don’t put up a barrier. Don’t worry, I’ll never say yes to your father” “Um…” “Then it seems to me that your father has only chosen great hotties to be your wife, I’m out of category”

Maybe the alcohol had gone to both of your heads, but you forgot about the terrible encounter you had two days before. "I like you" "Good to know" God, why did I become red?

Four days later you and Ricky still hadn't decided to exchange a word. You continued to work and so did he, just at a different pace. Being ignored was the worst feeling you could ever have in your life and you knew it. Your phone screen lit up: your best friend had just texted you asking to meet up. After asking Ricky’s permission to take your lunch break early, you went to a coffee shop near the facility where you worked to meet up with Wendy.

“My love! I haven’t heard from you and I thought the worst!” Wendy entered the venue with great enthusiasm and everyone turned to look at her. “I’ve been busy, now I’ll tell you everything” Wendy’s face, your best friend, changed several times during your story of the events that had happened in the last period; you told her how everything had started because of that party and how you had ended up working for an unpleasant blond who had turned out to be a misunderstood softie.

“Shen Quanrui? Wait, I’ve heard that name before” “He introduced himself to me as Ricky and then this girl came screaming and calling him Shen Quanrui, I told you.” “Oh my God” “What?” “That Shen Quanrui”

You looked into each other’s eyes for a few seconds before screaming “Ahhh” together. The only difference was that you screamed in terror. “That Shen Quanrui who studied fashion and design…” Wendy went to take the orders at the counter and sat back down. “Let’s recap,” Wendy took a breath; “the famous Ricky from Valentino is that Shen Quanrui who you fell in love with during college when the three of us did that school project. Except that his father got in the way when he saw us going out together and then offered you, a woman in love, some money to get you away from his son and you didn't accept, convinced that you wanted to declare yourself the next day" “Yes, then what went wrong? I never accepted that money!” Even though the cafeteria was full of people, the silence between you and Wendy became more and more insistent.

“Wendy?” “I accepted that money. And I also took a job at Dolce & Gabbana. I didn’t- I didn’t think it would go this way. Then, well, Ricky disappeared, I think he went to America” “He disappeared because you accepted the money instead of talking to him! You sold your, no, our friendship for something worth much less” “I’m sorry. You know I would never do that now”

Anger coursed through your body. But it didn’t seem right to scold your friend for something she had done in the past. It had already happened. You knew full well that now she would never have the courage to do it again.

“I need to talk to him, but he continues to ignore me” “I could help you” “What are you going to do, Wendy?” Maybe she had too much courage.

It was Sunday, the final day. Wendy was ready to put her plan into action, by hook or by crook. "Good morning, Ricky" "Um" As cold as ever. You heard footsteps in the hallway. It’s time. The door to your office opened, revealing your best friend on the other side in a black suit that hugged her body beautifully. “Did you make it?” “The janitor seems to have a thing for me” Wendy showed you the key and smiled widely, telling you that she would give you an hour and no more. You nodded your head and thanked her. Now it was your turn.

“Ricky, how much longer do you have?” “Five minutes” You opened the door to his lab and looked out. “Do you want to have a drink?” “I don’t like the drunk version of me” Oh, I think so.

You looked at him better one more time. When you were in college he had black hair and a thinner face, and he was definitely less athletic. Now he was tall, blond and he looked at you with those two black puddles of his as if he wanted to bite your heart out.

“Why didn’t you tell me?” “What?” “That it was you”

Ricky seemed to understand and tried to leave the room. “Don’t try that” “Y/n”

Ricky read your desire to clarify in your gaze and with a huff he leaned on the table where he kept all his sketches scattered. “Tell me what you have to tell me, Y/n” “It took me a while but I remembered” Ricky let out a nervous laugh. “And now that you understand, what do you want me to do with this information?”

The no longer handsome black-haired boy who bewitched you at university walked towards the exit door that connected your office and his study to the corridor but soon realized that it was blocked. "Give me an hour, please" "As you wish"

Sitting on the floor, between a pout and a snort from Ricky and tense looks from you, you told your boss for a week how the situation had evolved over the years until your fateful meeting. The boy didn't miss any opportunity to remind you that having a best friend who couldn't use her head hadn't helped your life.

"How much longer?" "Fifteen minutes… Sorry" "That idiot Wendy should be the one to apologize"

Even though you had spent the last thirty minutes finding one way or another to justify your actions of the last few years, in Ricky's eyes you didn't see the understanding you wanted to see; there was an even higher barrier separating you.

"You haven't forgiven me?" you asked, trying to look him in the eyes. "What should I forgive you for? If you forgot me it means you wanted to and if you didn’t realize who I was despite my hair color then I didn’t mean much to you. I may have just been a college crush for you, but you meant, you still mean a lot to me” Was he wrong? No. You had changed, he had changed, but Ricky’s feelings had remained the same for all these years and you had been shaken by a life that had never given you love.

“I… I don’t feel the same. I don’t even know if I’m capable of feeling the same for you, Ricky” “It’s not a tragedy, forget about me like you’ve done until now and everything will be fine” A click on the door lock made you both turn towards the bell: the hour had just ended.

Ricky was the first to get up and head towards the door. He waved to Wendy, who was lurking around the corner and turned to you one last time. “You’re fired.” You picked up your pace, passed Wendy, and, a meter away from the blond, you answered him without fear. “I’ll come back to show you that I haven’t forgotten about you. I’ve never forgotten about you. I may be different, but what was between you and me hasn’t even had time to blossom.” You couldn’t see Ricky’s expression after that last exchange. This was the last time you saw him. And then a year passed.

Life for you went on, for once since your parents had brought you into the world, in a whole new way: you dared to continue your studies in graphic design, now you went to the gym regularly and, even though you still found it boring, you went to high fashion parties with Wendy. What hadn't changed was how you felt about Ricky. You realized only after losing him that what you had felt while being with him for a week had brought out everything you had kept locked away in the drawer of your heart. Everywhere you saw a man as tall as him and with black hair your eyes lit up, only to turn off seconds after you realized they weren't Ricky.

It was during Wendy's birthday party that you heard two of her colleagues talking about the man you had been looking for incessantly for the past year “Shen Quanrui, how funny. I always called him Ricky and he always looked at me badly every time I did it” “Absurd, now he has opened his modeling agency and is looking for models for his first collection” “Oh I can't wait to go. When he worked for his father he made wonderful clothes” In a panic you threw yourself at the two girls who backed away in fear. “Where? When?” “Um… Tomorrow, at four in the afternoon in this area here” the young model handed you a flyer that oozed luxury from every pore. Your next move was decided and you weren't afraid to make it.

So you convinced yourself, but when the next afternoon you found yourself in the middle of all those very tall and beautiful models you almost felt sick. The girls who went first came back sweaty and agitated and shouted out loud that there was a stage outside and about fifty people ready to mock them. What wonderful news.

“Y/n, it’s your turn!” Holy shit. Anxiously, you asked the closest girl for some water and then walked towards the stage, with several giggles accompanying you. The light that blinded you did not allow you to see who and what was in front of you. Only when they threw the light lower, did a lump form in your throat.

Ricky was in front of you, his eyes wide in surprise and his hair black. An insignificant detail for anyone else in the room but not for you. You tried to get the lump in your throat down immediately, but someone with a rougher approach than yours took half the time. “Is she going to introduce herself or do we have to see her battered body?” “Give her time,” Ricky spoke.

It was enough to look into the raven-haired man's eyes to make the lump return to your throat. But that wasn’t what stopped you. The teary eyes were another obvious sign of uncertainty, but you bravely took air into your lungs and raised your voice as high as you could.

“I’m sure I love you. There is no longer anything that can make me say otherwise. I think I love.” The faces of everyone in the room took on various expressions and some began to whisper in the ears of their neighbors. You continued without fear this time.

“I love you, Shen Quanrui. I understood it when I hoped that every stupid middle-aged man had your face, I understood it when I went to see a stupid Monet exhibition hoping that you would whisper in my ear one more time and I understood it when…” Ricky was looking at you impassively.

“I understood it when you ran away to America the first time and I understood it when I was the one who left you the second time.” You were interrupted by a man in his sixties who angrily shouted at the guards to take you away.

“Stop everyone” And so it was. Ricky stood up and with that annoying but charming little smile, he pronounced his final sentence. “I found my muse. We’re done for today, sent all the girls home” Slowly and dazed by what had happened, the men and women inside the theater left. You and Ricky looked into each other’s eyes, alone in your intimacy. “I see that you haven’t changed, you’re always ready to make one disaster after another” “I see that you have changed, maybe that means that?”

“It means that I still love you Y/n. I’ve been waiting for you all this time” He held you in his arms and kissed you for the first time, knowing in his heart that it wouldn’t be the last. A thought crept into your mind. “Oh my god, what we do with your father?” “Y/n I have my own company and we are not Romeo and Juliet, there is no need to make a drama out of it” “Oh, so you are not my Romeo?” Ricky kissed you once more and you felt his smile grow bigger and bigger. He leaned in close to your ear and whispered seven sweet words to you. “I'll be everything you want, forever

[cozymochi]

For ask meme

Quote and backstory for Cecil, If you can't, you can choose just one. I love him and you other ocs very much 💖💕💗

Backstory: Tell me anything about your twst OC's backstory. Their childhood, their parents, their siblings etc. Does their backstory affect how they are as a character now and how they interact with the cast?

Cecil comes from a family of mages/witches, so that’s cool. His dad is a Royal Sword Academy alumni, so that’s something. He has an older twin sister, her name is Claudia.

She’s meticulous and always holds her head high when it comes to her magical ability and her appearance (💖). Outside of NRC, especially in their home village, they’re often viewed as a pair and compared to one another. (…Mainly Cecil getting compared to her.)

They have a magical rivalry since both of their magic manifested as children around the same time. Though, that’s probably when things started to go south in terms of their once more friendly relationship.

Further yapping under cut. 🔮

Claudia technically got her magic first, but Cecil has much larger reserves and a really natural instinct for it.

Unfortunately for Cecil, this caused a lot of problems early on with a perceived lack of control and a pattern of disasters if he got overwhelmed. Claudia was usually at the receiving end of those disasters, so much like the adults in their village, she doesn’t trust him with magic at all.

Repeated fumbling just made Cecil seem like a hazard who can only do wrong, while his sister was doing everything correctly and seemed more reliable. Her doing well just made his mistakes look worse by comparison. Even if they were really small.

So it became a case of Cecil’s self-confidence taking a major blow, meanwhile Claudia kind of got propped up as somebody he should be striving to emulate.

Over time, it was less that he didn’t have control, but lack of faith from anyone else during his formative years didn’t really help. And since magic is strongly imagination based, that can manifest as shoddy spell-casting unintentionally, even if he knows what he’s doing now.

Claudia is most certainly envious of Cecil’s lifelong affinity with magic, so she compensated by becoming an expert on all things surrounding it like, poisons, potions, curses, practical spell casting, conjuring. etc. and all of the correct most efficient ways to do so.

Though, ultimately it doesn’t matter how meticulous she is because her reserves are just too low for any arcane academy to care. She is not impressive enough to be accepted into any such school, but the bumbling Cecil was.

Her Signature Spell is just changing a persons hair/hair color. (Not that she’d let anyone know… not even her brother.)

There’s less celebration that Cecil got into the prestigious Night Raven College, so much as how unfair it that the seemingly perfect Claudia can’t get into any arcane academy at all. Dad doesn’t really care for NRC anyway so that doesn’t help.

They’re kind of both jealous of each other in some capacity, but neither have communicated this so they’re currently just strained. They can have good days, but otherwise they don’t really talk unless Cecil comes home. …And when he does, expect yapping about all of Claudia’s accomplishments while he was away.

Fun.

SO! How does all this manifest in how Cecil interacts with the cast?

It most emerges as deadpan snark and himself getting jealous about his peers’ magical prowess or their support systems. He just feels this insatiable need to prove how competent he is. …To mixed results.

Maybe he needs to become some hero who saves people or something? Or some kind of authority that gets respect no matter what?? He doesn’t really know.

So here’s Cecil having an all that baggage and just outside of his orbit is freaking Diasomnia fam.

It can get somebody a little… resentful.

He probably wouldn’t have gone to NRC at all if not for his need to prove himself. That, and maybe one teensy tiny push from a precocious neighbor.

But, who can really say?

[itsa-me-lily]

First of all, anyone with pets, this fic may fuck you up. It fucked me up and I wrote it. So please keep that in mind before reading this fic. This is for sure some of my own personal trauma I used to flavor this, that and my tears.

Second THE PIGS ARE OKAY IN THE END I PROMISE, spoilers I know but I felt like I needed to put that in advance

Third here is the other Simon & Thimble stuff (Here is MPS AU Masterlist)

Fourth @nightunite I want to blame this on you but this is honestly all me

Content warning; anxiety, panicking, pet illness, discussion of pet death, concern that violence has been committed against reader, concern that reader is injured, angst

You were not a woman who needed her husband, but fuck was this a time you wanted him.

You had suspected something was up with boys. You couldn't tell if they were eating, and neither would come running to the edge of their enclosure to greet you when you came home. You tried not to panic, tried to ignore the tendrils of anxiety that wrapped around your lungs to strange them. This time was different. You weren't some kid who just graduated college and didn't have a clue. You knew better this time.

So you mixed up your CritCare, made the next available appointment with their vet, and remained determined that everything was going to be fine.

Then the wheezing started.

You had been on the cusp of sleep, your phone mocking you with the announcement of one am. You knew you needed to sleep, and yet you hadn't been able to. In the dark you could admit that you were scared. And that you had a reason to be.

You hadn't made the pull out bed, instead just planning on sleeping on the couch as is, incase something happened. You're thankful you had. It made scooping both Jiji and Tombo to abscond to the bathroom easier, the three of you sitting against the door as the hot running shower filled the tiny room with steam. It would help. It had to.

Only it didn't. Ten minutes later and they still sounded so terrible. You could feel the fear starting to churn your stomach. What if you couldn't fix it? What if you were too late again and-Your breath hitched as you tried not to spiral. It had to be different this time but-your eyes burned as you tried to ignore the urge to cry. You were so alone. Simon was out on some overnight lieutenant training, and you were alone in your bathroom with your boys who were absolutely everything to you and they sounded so sick and what if you couldn't make them, what if it was just like last time where you tried and tried and it still didn't make them any better and you lost them and-

You can't help the sob that ripped out of your chest, holding the boys a little tighter. You needed to do something. You have to do something because your boys needed you to. Sniffling, you tried to unlock your phone to check where the ER vet is, only it opens to the conversation you had with Simon.

'If anything happens call Soap.'

You were sure that Simon had probably meant if there was some sort of human emergency, when he had offered up his best friend, but you were desperate. Without really thinking about it you were dialing the Scot, breath hitching as you tried to get it under control. The endless ringing just made the anxiety wring your insides. You were about to give up when at the last second a voice came on the line, disoriented and thick with sleep.

"'ello?"

"J-Johnny?"

You hadn't meant for your voice to crack when you said his name, but just hearing another person meant that you didn't have to try this alone and the relief that crashed over you made you a little weak.

"I need help."

Johnny 'Soap' MacTavish, liked to think that he was a man prepared for anything. He was a solider, a demolition expert, he could make anything blow with just the right amount of faith, trust, and c-4. He was ready to fly out to whatever corner of the world needed him to kick ass.

He was not ready to hear Ghost's wife, which that was an odd sentence in and of itself, almost crying down the line as she called him in the dead of night. You hadn't even finished saying his name and Johnny was already rolling out of bed, looking for anything to throw on.

Image after terrible image flashed through his mind as he heard your plea for help. Had someone broken in? Were you hurt? One awful thought struck him of you cowering somewhere until the person determined to get revenge on Ghost found you. No. He couldn't panic. You already sounded distressed and he couldn't help you if he lost his head. Johnny was a professional.

"Hen, need you to tell me where you are."

"At-at the house-"

"Is anyone else there?"

"N-no."

Johnny would have sagged with relief if he wasn't so busy shoving his feet into his boots and already halfway out the door. Not a break in, at least as far as you were aware. It didn't rule out you being hurt though.

"Listen I'll be there in ten, don't move."

"But the boys-"

Looking back, Johnny probably should have let you finish before ending the call, but in his defense he had a twenty minute drive to cut in half, and an LT to notify. He wasn't really sure what the relationship between the two of you was, but he had been there the night Ghost had overheard some private talk about you, and Ghost hadn't taken kindly to it.

Of course, the private needed to be socked a few times given what he was saying, but still, as far as he had known his LT hadn't even wanted to be in the spousal program until Price threatened him with extra psych meetings. Then next thing Johnny new Ghost was defending your honor and asking him to keep an eye on ya when he was out of town. So whatever the hell was going on between the two of you, Johnny wasn't going to fuck it up.

Which was how he was now at the closest emergency vet visit, trying to keep you from crying further while someone looked at your guinea pigs. Even he could admit the poor guys had sounded awful in the car.

He had tried not to push, even if he had been frustrated when he had first arrived at Ghost's home. He had spent ten minutes driving like the devil was chasing him, imagining you laying there with a broken neck or worse, and you had been perfectly fine, standing there at the door talking about needing a vet.

Johnny had had half a mind to give you an earful of what constituted as a past midnight call for help, but before he had the chance to, your face had crumbled and it was over for him. He was taking you and two guinea pigs to the vets.

He watched as you picked at your cuticles, seeming to need some sort of distraction, though he couldn't tell how well it was working given the way you seemed to be staring at the floor. Just as he was about to reach out to stop you from making yourself bleed for the third time, his phone started vibrating in his pocket. He was pretty sure he knew who was calling at this hour.

He didn't even bother checking the ID before answering, stepping away, not that you noticed.

"Hey LT."

"Status report MacTavish."

"Missus is okay. The wee ones got taken back. Now we're just waiting."

"...Thank you Johnny."

That was unexpected. Sure Ghost wasn't a complete bastard, but the genuine gratitude that came through the line was...shocking. He didn't know if it was for driving you while you were upset or even just being there. He wasn't sure if Ghost even knew.

"Any time Simon."

"How is-"

Johnny didn't mean to cut the man off, but a man in mint green scrubs had come out calling for last name Riley, and he didn't want to leave you alone to get whatever news was coming.

"They just called for us. Update you later."

He probably shouldn't have hung up just like that, but well he figured Ghost would appreciate the dedication to keeping you upright this evening.

It was an upper raspatory infection, is what Soap told him the vet had said. Simon didn't know how two guinea pigs who never left the house got infections like that, but according to Soap who had said according to the vet, that you had caught it early enough and a course of antibiotics would help.

His grip on the steering wheel tightened as he remembered getting Soap's messages, at first the worry that something had happened to you, and then the concern later when it was clear that it was the pigs.

Simon knew you had some sort of trauma in regards to them. There was no way that the level of hypervigilance you had in regards to them wasn't. He had seen it other service members before. Hell he lived it, that constant nagging feeling that if you weren't aware of everything all the time, then something was going to get you. It hadn't been until he had asked about the two wooden boxes on your nightstand that he had started to understand.

You'd had two other guinea pigs before, pets you had gotten to sooth the loneliness right after college. And of course you loved them, loved them just as much as you loved your boys now. Only you hadn't known then what to look out for with sick guinea pigs.

Simon could remember the sad look in your eyes as you had brushed your fingers along the top of one wooden urn. You had tried so hard to nurse them back to health, did everything you could, went to the vet as often as you could afford to, but you had been trying to catch up to a loosing race. Simon had pretended not to notice how you had tried not to let any tears spill over as you explained it all to him. So now, with Jiji and Tombo, he could see how that would probably send you spiraling.

Really he owed Soap at least a drink the next time they went out, even if at four in the morning the Scot had tried to brush off any gratitude from when he reported to Simon that everyone was back home where they were supposed to be. He knew he didn't say it enough, but Simon was grateful that Soap had his six, and in this case yours.

Pulling up to the driveway, Simon braced himself for whatever laid waiting for him at high noon. It was the best possible anticlimactic. You asleep on the couch clear bags under your eyes, and two little pigs poking their heads out of their hideys to see what was going on now.

Making his way over he knelt down next to the cage, watching as Jiji stuck his head out a little further to even accept the gentle brushing of Simon's finger. The antibiotics must have already been helping.

"Alright you two, it's time to get better now. You can't go breaking your mum's heart."

Edit;

Jiji and Tombo make a full recovery and are back to being their adorable menacing selves in no time. Baker thankfully never got sick because he was being quarantined due to the ringworm

Also this is incredibly emotional for me, because I loved all my boys I've had, and I'd do all over again, the medication runs, vet visits, syringe feedings, if it meant that they got better. So even if it's in this world, to have piggies get better means a lot.

[ozwriterchick]

Back to Us - Chapter 1

Summary: Y'/n wakes after an accident to her Avengers team-mates. But something isn't quite right and only Steve and Tony can see it.

Characters/Relationships: Steve Rogers x Reader; Tony Stark; Natasha Romanoff; Other Avengers Characters

Content warnings: Mentions of an accident (no details yet); If I missed any, let me know

Back to Us Masterlist

Dividers by @firefly-graphics

Word count: 1030 (approx.)

Present Day, Stark County Hospital

The monitor beep droned on and on.  10 days they’d been waiting for you to wake up.

The Avengers were there as well, in the - thanks to Tony Stark - not so small hospital room which still seemed too crowded.  They were all praying that you would wake up soon.  Some were re-living their part in what had occurred and trying to work out if they could have done anything differently.

Others were thinking back over the last few years they had known you and re-visiting all the wonderful memories you’d made together.

Steve sat in the chair closest to the bed, his head in his hands as he tried to reconcile what was happening.  He was hoping that you would wake up soon.  The doctor had told them that your brain and body needed the rest and the longer it let you do that, the better it was all round.  Steve wasn’t sure he believed that but he put his faith in the medical experts that were looking after you 24/7.

All of a sudden Steve’s head shot up.  He was sure he’d just felt you move your hand.  Your hand that had been still for the last 10 days.  He watched and waited for it to happen again.  Just as he was about to give up in despair, your hand moved on the bed.

He called out your name, leading the rest of the Avengers to look up and also see your hand moving.  Next you gingerly opened your eyes, a little at a time, the lights glaring down on you making you squint after having them closed for so long.

“She’s awake, I’ll go get the doctor” Steve almost yelled, leaping out of his chair and heading out the door of your room.

You winced as he did so, your head hurting just a bit, you imagined from being asleep for so long.  You wondered how long you had been asleep and moreso, how you got here in the first place.

“Hey kid, how do you feel?” Tony asked.

“Like I got hit by a truck.  What happened?” you asked, looking around the room at all the expectant faces around you. “And what are you all doing here?”

Tony levelled his gaze at you, as if trying to decide how much to share right now.  His decision was easy really – you’d just woken up, you didn’t need to hear a lot of the gory details of what happened. 

“Never mind that right now, we’ll de-brief once you’re back at the compound.  You need to concentrate on getting back to 100%” he said.

The door to your room opened and you looked up to see Nat wandering in with a cup of coffee in her hand.  Your mouth salivated and you hoped she’d brought it for you but that hope deflated when you saw her raise the cup to her lips. 

“Hey Y/n” she said. “It’s good to see you awake.  Oh and sorry, doc says no coffee for you just yet” and with that, she downed the rest of the black liquid. “Don’t worry, when you can have coffee, I’ll get you a proper one, not this hospital stuff.”

You chuckled at her, your head still hurting just a smidge.  “How long was I out?” you asked?

Before she had a chance to respond, Steve returned with the Doctor, who greeted you with a smile on his face, and in his voice.  “Well, good morning sleepy head.  So, you’ve been in a coma since the accident.  It’s been about 10 days so far.”

You looked around at your team-mates in the room.  “Accident? Tony, what happened?”

“Let’s not worry about that right now” the Doctor said.  Turning to the others, “Ok, now that she’s awake, you all have to leave so we can run some more tests.”

Steve looked back at the Doctor and responded. “I’m staying.”

“Me too” came from Tony.

The Doctor shook his head and told them all again that Y/n needed some rest and that they could all come back later, once all the tests were run and that maybe he’d have some more information about her progress.

Tony rolled his eyes and said “If you insist Doc.  Y/n, we’ll be back.”

She looked back at him, with fondness in her eyes. “Yes, please go, do something productive.  I’m sure you all have better things to do than baby-sit me.”

Steve looked at you softly. “At least one of us has been here 24/7 since the accident.”

Noticing the change in his expression and voice, Y/n replied “Wow, I thought you all had other things going on in your lives.  I’ll be fine, right Doc?”

The Doctor nodded.  “Besides, sitting around here while I’m in and out of the room, having who knows what tests and being poked and prodded will be no fun for anyone, including me.  And if I know I’m keeping you from the important things in your life, I’d be very annoyed.” Y/n continued.

Tony’s eyes narrowed as he listened to what you were saying and something clicked in his brain.

Steve started to protest “But Y/n, you are…”

“Ok Avengers, let’s go” he interrupted Steve.  “You too Cap.”

The rest of the Avengers say goodbye one by one and walk out, leaving just you, Tony & Steve in the room with the Doctor.

You could see Steve’s reluctance to leave, which was so like him, he really looked after his team in all areas of their lives.  “Captain Rogers, your watch here has ended, you can go too.  I’m sure you have some hot date to get to” she teased.

Steve exchanged a concerned glance with Tony who nodded slightly. Kissing you on the forehead, he left the room.

“I’m glad you’re awake Y/n” Steve began.  “We’ll talk more once you’ve had your tests.”  With that, he leaned in and you noticed a moment’s hesitation from him before he landed a kiss on your cheek and walked out the door.

You were left a little confused because that was a very personal gesture that you'd expect from Tony, but that was not like Steve at all.

Chapter 2

Tag List: @wolfbeanpotion

[fireboltcrystal]

The Mishandling of Varric Tethras

How Dragon Age: The Veilguard utilized a fan favorite, only for the worst....

Just a little bit more salt. I wasn’t initially going to post anything else, but I kept thinking about all the things that have frustrated me about vg. & the one that just keeps driving me insane, is how Bioware treated and used Varric in The Veilguard. I just wanted to expand/rant a little more about my disappointment and disgust. Both in what was done to Varric and how it shows off the cracks in vg’s understanding (lack) of characterization.

WARING, SALT, BASIC CRITIQUE, WITH BIOWARE/VG BASHING + IT’S LONGER THAN I INTENDED, SORRY)

~

For consideration; first I admit fully I did not play The Veilguard, I watched a friend who is also a fan, play the game from beginning to end, alongside watching others live-stream the game. Re-watching clips and reading story summaries for clarification.

I’m not a lore expert by any means, I will occasionally investigate other parts of the series for fun. But I mostly know about the series from playing the games. Extend universe is fun but should not be necessary. Plus, I should not have to pay potentially $100+ for a game and its extended universe of comics and novels, just to talk about my opinion on disappointing story aspects.

Second, I’m not a professional or semi-professional writer. So, pardon for any mistakes.

Third, Varric Tethras is my favorite character of the Dragon Age series. My bias will be on full display.

Does this all mater, no but I want to be honest just in case other fans find this and think I am trying to ‘stir the pot’ and make people who were somehow able to enjoy vg sad.

Truthfully, I do not care if anyone reads this. I just needed to compartmentalize my feelings beyond trying to only ignore and move on. Also, if you do not like Varric, fine but please don’t waste your time commenting on how you hate him. It is annoying and pointless. I do not care, have a nice day, anyways.

Character Background:

(feel free to skip to the next part, if you don’t want a refresher)

From the song 'Companions',

Varric charms with clever words

Vender of exotic goods

Writer of salacious books

A rogue, a dwarf with ragged looks

Varric Tethras is the rouge, dwarven companion of da2 and dai. Second son and first of his family to be born on the surface. Scion of House Tethras, which once held prominence in the underground kingdom of Orzammar. Which now resides in the Free Marches, city state of Kirkwall after scandal had the family banished. Though Varric does not come off as really interested in the traditions of his family’s homeland or following heavily in the faith of ‘The Stone’.

He is ironically a deeply ‘human’ character; as cunning as he is compassionate. A merchant prince with a decent ‘spy network’ (though has a difficult time not being worried about his agents). Known for wielding his signature crossbow, named Bianca; he clashes with his elder brother Bartrand and the Dwarven Merchants guild and holds a substantial tab at the “The Hanged Man” tavern. He also to extent is Andrastian, though not as pious that is traditionally acceptable. He frames it more so as enjoying an ‘great story’. But he does speak on the life of prophet, Andraste with far more understanding than even some of the most faithful characters can. Could it just be storytellers’ intuition or maybe more…

Segway into the fact that he is also a serial novelist, who writes everything from crime dramas, epics, to romances novels. He is a deeply ‘romantic’ person, loyal to friends and those he loves, at a times to a fault. Varric is a self-described liar but it never feels deeply malicious. Only as way of obfuscating when dealing with painful memories, hiding info to protect his friends from and to optimally fuck with the Chantry. His friendship with Hawke, is so close to point that he was willing to lie to the Chantry guard, and put his life and freedom on the line to protect them.

Another major example would be in his tempestuous relationship, with Bianca Davri; a dwarven engineer of tremendous skill. Though we do not get all the details as it is part of the Bianca, the crossbows naming, ‘the one story he will never tell’.

What we do get is a very complicated affair. Were the two honestly should and in some parts have already moved on from each other. It is mature, messy, and shows a flaw in his character; that though he lives in the present, he can be weighed down by his past mistakes.

-

Game-wise, in da2 he is the unreliable narrator for the story of Hawke and a rouge companion. As his background as a storyteller, he spins a yarn to Seeker Casandra Pentaghast, about the Champion of Kirkwall. Along with has a part in the main quest that ties into his relationship and ultimate the fate of his brother, Bartand. He can potentially become either a best friend or a rival to Hawke.

In dai he is again a rouge companion, initially ‘arrested’ by the Chantry, he joins the Inquisition to help save Thedas. He has a substantial role in the story; he acts as a re-introduction to Hawke (and can affected by their potential fate later in the story) and the main antagonist, Corypheus (featured in da2 dlc). Along with he is a first-hand witness to the dangers and damage red lyrium can cause. This also includes a connecting quest to destroy lyruim deposits, to which we can even finally meet the mysterious Bianca herself. He can become another friend with high approval or he can become disillusioned with the Inquisitor if low.

In Trespasser/post-game, we learn that he has been chosen to become the Viscount of Kirkwall and though the job drives him nuts; he shows a genuine zeal for the position. In the both the power he utilizes to make genuine changes for the city that he loves and to abuse it, as an excuse to give his friends ‘free shit’. Including bestowing the Inquisitor a title, estate, and key to the city (or mechanism to control the giant-ass chains lol).

~

Quick moment of positivity before vg proper, I will say I think Varric’s new design works for an older interpretation of the marksman. He has his fundamental details, the leather coat, ring necklace, obvious flash of chest hair and of course crossbow Bianca. But the new additions like the Inquisition belt buckle and the three, crossed facial scars are nice touches to his look. Minor criticism, a little confused at hair color change, but hair can turn darker as one ages, and the gray does look great on him. A little less okay with is the beard, in part since Varric known to be indifferent to the traditions of Orzammar, like having a longer beard. Prior games his face is shaven or with very faint scruff. But I can also see it as him leaving it to the way side during the hunt for Solas. Also, he is missing his three earrings, Bioware what did you do with the man’s jewelry!

VG Prologue:

Varric’s introduction in the game starts at the beginning of new protagonists Rook. In a nameless bar in Minathous. Rook can choose to react with wordplay or violence. After which Varric, chilling out in corner (which he should, let that old dwarven man rest!) comments on how Rook handled themselves in the standoff/scuffle and how they are his second in command (woof sheesh, tough break Harding). Without any time to spare they are off to find their contact.

Fist off: The bond that Rook and Varric have; is that there's kinda isn't. Normally a player is introduced to character and we naturally grow interest with them, through game play and conversation.

But in vg there is no built up, it’s all a preset relationship. “I know your can do this, you’re the best, Kid,” blah blah. Other than a few half-baked dialogue choices that pretty amount to nothing. There is no moment to talk with him, ask him questions beyond getting the main story into motion (all go, go, go find this person, here, that, there & etc.).

Something separate I bring up, not only to Varric and Rooks ‘relationship’. But an issue that I could have actually help (a little bit) of vg’s starting issues.

Why the fuck are the devs. so terrified of the original Origins.

Because this is the game that probably needed those kinds of intros back, more than ever. Be it for players returning (or first introductions) to the world of Thedas. & no, the half-baked, faction summaries are not enough when most of them barely factor into how you build and detail out your background. Some factions like the Shadow Dragons get just a few scraps to role-play or as everyone I have seen and spoken to has said that the Lord of Fortunes might as well have been cut completely, there is so little.

It feels so hollow to have hardly any dialogue choices to help flesh out Rook as a different character. Instead, they are a carbon copy personality dumpster fire, bland in a way a single-cell hero could be. Quippy and Inhuman.

Now back to Varric; how in the world do they know each other, why did they join in with the Inquisition or what remained of it, how did Varric end up deciding on a chess themed nickname, all these question & more could have been answered with a character Origin! *hooray* (Wow, look at that!)

In this have Varric play the role of recruiter like Duncan. He will meet the players, intro into combat, have quick convos on what the hell is going on, speak to the people and to show off a part of the world.

But in this case to create the foundational bond between the new player character and now mentor, Varric. So that if there are any dramas moments, the player will actually feel, if or when an npc is in peril…

But instead, the dev. team opted to just simply have Varric already know Rook, no build up required. Just a pre-established association with no real input from the player. Which creates a disconnect, new players are not going to automatically know who the hell Varric is. Most will just roll with it, so to finally get to the game proper, but it will not add up down the line…

For returning players, the writers did something kind of nasty on reflection; they used our nostalgia to do the heavy lifting of character development. We do not get to know Varric as a new person, just as extended cameo (which happens to other characters in vg). That one we are only able to understand because of playing the previous games, who though had their own development woes, still had developers with their priorities straight when creating them, its world, and its characters.

So if you are not a fan or feel neutral about Varric. Rook has a casual-esq working relationship with him. Clean, bland, sanitized (like the rest of the game).

But if you are a fan of him, it ends up feeling like an old friend you have lost contact with and now you have become different person (literally) but with the nostalgia strangling you. Varric feels slightly the same, but older, exhausted and one who’s writers should have let gently retire years ago…

It feels sad and lackluster in comparison to how full and interesting his prior introductions were.

Da2 had two Varric intros; first with his arrest and interrogation, he becomes the narrator of the game, though under distress. It creates mystery, why is this guy being dragged around though a dungeon, what has he done, does he know something, or maybe someone…

But in-game proper, after Hawke’s failed meeting with Bartrand. Varric stops a pickpocket from running off with Hawke’s stolen coin purse, he lands a bolt into the thief, taking back the money, punching them out for the trouble and returning the coins with a flourish. They talk about his brother and their plans to venture into the Deep Roads for fame, glory but money for profit.

You get a little taste of both points, Varric brought low and also at the top of his game.

In dai slightly similar but without the framing device, Varric is fighting alongside Solas (oh we will get to you). & after sealing the tear, Varric introduces himself, there is even a dialogue choice where he compares himself to us as we are both technically prisoners to the Chantry, though his arrest by Cassandra is kind of null after the explosion. It helps build a link between him and the prisoner, later Inquisitor. For new players, you get to see peak Varric charm. But also perfect for old players ready to bond with him again, after so long and to a forge a connection with a brand-new protag.

With this we not only see that Varric still has his wicked charm, but that others also react to it, Solas chuckles (heh) with a snide remark, when we say we are pleased to meet him and Cassandra’s frustration at his arrogant charisma is so endearing, for both characters. (Cassandra and Varric, have genuinely some of the best character interactions of the entire series, I will fight anyone on that).

~

Moving ahead since more of the dialogue after meeting Harding and Neve, is mainly, taking about state of Minrathous and needing to stop Solas. We reach the ritual site in the Arlathan forest... Before confronting the Dreadwolf, can either choose to support or convince against Varric talking Solas down. Regardless of choice, he still goes on head.

Varric is a man whose friends have become his family. He feels that he must try at the very least talk with Solas. Though it does go against his reactions to Solas being an agent of Fen'Harel; back in Trespasser (but I think the team kind of forgot most of the character motivations they established…).

Regardless Varric confronts Solas while the team try to stop the ritual and hold off the demons. Though I hate the result, I kind of liked the scene at first, Varric’s cheeky grin calling Solas, ‘Chuckles’ was a great touch. Especially since the two did have slight back and forth friendship in dai.

& the reaction Solas has when he sees Varric is excellent, first annoyance at who would dare distract him, then shock with a little bit of sadness when it sees who it is, but then returns into haughty determination.

But I think this is indicative how better the characters of the prior games and the weight of established relationships are from this scene. Like if Veilguard is your first game in the series, this entire scene means practically nothing other than, a super intense moment between ex-friends (where the world is at stake).

But gravitas of these two characters, the performances of their actors and the tiny shred of decent writing. Probably tricks a lot of newcomers into thinking this will be a far deeper story than it actually is…

So, after a back-and-forth, Solas will not see reason and Varric aims Bianca and Solas destroys the crossbow (I’m still devastated at the loss of such an iconic weapon). During which the ritual is disrupted, Varric attempts to stop it further by attempting to grab the ritual dagger from Solas’s, in turn Solas stabs Varric. He falls, and we are uncertain of his fate. Ancient elves Ghilan'nain and Elgar'nan escape the fade and Rook loses consciousness.

The Rest of the Game:

After the ritual Rook awakens in the Lighthouse, to see a bandaged-up Varric. He looks awful and is noticeably in pain. But something is bizarre, something doesn’t seem right, his tone is off, it’s unnatural.

Other companions, seem to speak or react to him. I kept thinking why doesn't any look at him. No scenes of characters visiting him, to see how he's feeling. Nothing.

Let me tell you before I learned the truth, I was so fucking relieved to see he was alive. After all the dodgy trailers, on which Bianca being destroyed. I was just so happy to see him alive, that I didn’t see the signs. I thought maybe we would check in on him over time and watch him heal. Maybe there would be point before the end where we see him hang up his leather duster and return to Kirkwall as Viscount accepting that his adventuring days are at end. & in turn pass on the mantle of leadership to this current party. For Rook to step out and up as the new protagonist… But we will get to the full truth later.

So from now till the end Varric has two functions in vg: narrator again, but without the same wit or gravitas of da2.

& sort of back seat hype man, he is mainly resting in a dark corner of the new base, the Lighthouse. His conversations are essentially recaps of main quests, occasional references to the prior games, what the dev. team must have thought were oh so clever hints to Varric’s death (as clever as a cinder block) and then pseudo-HR training about how “Rook is the leader, and you are a part of team, and you got to work together,” yada yada…

Ultimately meaningless moments, awkward and stilled, hamstrung by vg’s blunt force repetitive dialogue.

Now to his final part in this story, close to end game Rook is trapped in a fade prison by Solas (who fell for the dumbest trick, who also can be tricked in return, wtf) they are confronted by companion(s) that were killed during a prior quest.

And here is the big revel, that Varric had died after being stabbed by Solas at the beginning of the game.

The real Varric died at the ritual site…

So, anytime that Rook spoke to him, it was not actually Varric the man, the dwarf, the living person.

Honestly, I do not know entirely what was talking to Rook.

At first, I thought he was illusion created by Solas to fuck with Rook. Maybe a shade made from a spirit (like dai where a spirit &/or Divine Justinia helps the Inquisitor). Or more likely a figment created by Rook from their repressed grief after Varric was murdered. (Honestly this is all embarrassing, like who ever wrote this, along with anyone else who let it go to print should be ashamed of themselves and then fire their therapist...)

They have an awkward come to Jesus’ moment about accepting grief (um, ok) and a stilted, rushed good bye.

(Oh and there is one moment right before the end credits where Varric appears in the clouds like he’s Mufasa or something idk; just a final slap in face before game ushers you out the door.)

~

Final Feelings and Frustrations:

So most of his inclusion of the game was not even but a hallucination, a mere idealistic interpretation of him, always supportive, always accepting, and empty.

A fandoms interpretation, a wasteful dev. teams idea.

Used as ‘character development’ for a mediocre protagonist.

Rook is as heroic as wet rag and as interesting as a rubber dumbbell.

What a tragic waste of one of the series most iconic characters…

-

Varric being killed off and used a lesson in accepting grief, was one of the most meaningless acts of literal character assassination and emotional manipulation I have ever seen a team of writers pull in some fucking time.

I would not be surprised if that was Bioware's excuse for not wanting to write anything more complicated or interesting. That they only did it for a cheap cameo and had Varric be a sacrificial lamb to create ‘tension’ between Rook and Solas.

Which can I just say for a dev. team as notoriously ‘chronically online’, the fact that they couldn’t see how a loud subset of the fandom, who are willing to forgive literally any if not all of Solas’s actions, including being involved in the death Varric, another fan favorite, is cosmically laughable.

Solas’s could turn an entire box of puppies to stone and he would be forgiven at large; esp. if it was framed as him doing it for the sake of the Elvhenan. Like please be real Bioware, you made a sympathetic villain. Fucking own up to it, you guys could not have been this delusional (though your interviews do say otherwise).

It is sooo bizarre, like does this current team even like these characters (the series even), supposedly in the development in the prior games, Varric was constantly being talked about like his time was up (like why, you made him a charming fella, what are players supposed to do, not want to friends with the guy!). They even had very early ideas for a dlc where you could romance him (I will morn this loss forever), but that he would potentially die at the end… (fml)

Hell, even Solas in this game; that was once titled as ‘Dreadwolf’. has this constant feeling from the writing that the team both adores him but also fucking hates him. Like, “Please keep talking bald elf man you have so many fans willing to pay full retail price; but also shut the hell up and begone to the shadow dimension!”

I mean, I am not a huge fan of Solas personally, but I am genuinely surprised at how many of his actual fans could be okay with Bioware’s meager crumbs. (idk toxic positivity, maybe sunk cost fallacy)

Like at one point this guy was THE main antagonist and beyond! Elven spies, manipulating nations, sowing discord to the create the perfect environment to tear down the Veil! But nope, just nothing really. Stuck in the Fade, being a big sad boy.

Strikingly bland here, esp. in comparison to the real intensity brought forth at the end of Trespasser.

[Bonus: After her threat in dai, I would not be surprised if Bianca found a way of going into the fade just so she could beat the ever-loving shit out of Solas (and all Inquisitors) for getting Varric killed.]

~

An Idea for a Thematic Polarity:

Of clinging to the nostalgic past, how to accept a conflicted present & to move forward into an uncertain future.

Solas is a person fixated on the ideal of a post-Elvenuris past. A past that never actually came to be and desires to bring it to fruition, even if means potentially destroying world. He even dissociates from the people of the ‘Dragon Age’ because, he cannot visualize them a fully fledge people. This can change, but he still goes for it. He knows there will untold death and destruction, but refuses to let go of the world before. In a better written story, he could’ve still becoming one with the Veil. After further being confronted by the reality that you cannot return the past, not like it once was. But let go for the sake of protecting those who live here and now, to go on, learn the past and make a better world for everyone.

Varric also clings to the past; even his place as a storyteller is him dramatizing, sensationalizing events, real or otherwise. He glosses over painful memories, adjusts for the audience (but mostly himself). But he is also a man who has not abandoned the present or even the future. He lives still gathering info. for his next bestseller. He is deeply conserved for the living; friends, citizens of Kirkwall and beyond. And if there is nothing to be done, we might as well take a break for now and play a round of Wicked Grace.

The team could have done things much different in the finale to Varric. They could have Varric be (actually) injured during the ritual. After which he decides to retire, he is not getting any younger and returns to Kirkwall as Viscount. Passing the torch to the next generation of heroes and storytellers.

He has sort of given up on Solas, not his friend, (he will always care about his friends) but in the hunting of the Dreadwolf, the two Elven ‘gods’ and their double-Bight. He could continue working to make Kirkwall into a bastion of the Free Marches, improving the lives of the citizens and the city he takes so much pride in.

(well ignoring the destruction of Southern Thedas, god so pointless and vindictive on the part of the devs…)

He could have still been the narrator but from a tangible distance. Only retelling it from second hand accounts, etc.

Or maybe just a lore drop, a supportive letter that finds it's way to Rook with some words of encouragement.

But all that is for head-cannons, fanfictions and fan art.

~

So with that, moving forward I think I am going to be a little of both, I will go into the future, beyond the disappointments of Bioware and The Veilguard. To different studios and new series.

But I will still continue to always love and enjoy, Varric Tethras and the Dragon Age Trilogy.

Thank you very much, either to the void or to any one for taking the time to read this mess.

[romanarose]

Supportive Logan Thoughts: Writer GF

Logan Howlett x fem!writer!gf

Join my taglist : Masterlist

Buy Me A Coffee : Kofi : Go Fund Me

Summary: You're an aspiring writer, but having trouble finding time to write. Logan shows his complete faith in you, no matter what your family thinks.

Warnings: Not a lot, unsupportive/mean family. My massive daddy issues

A/n: I wanted to write this for myself because Im feeling massively unsupported by my family and several friends, and I with I had a partner with this much faith in me. I have another one I wanna do with supportive logan and reader who wants to continue education. If you have any self indulgant ideas you wanna hear, send em! It'll probs be short but I can have Logan say things i think you'd want to hear in a way that makes sense for him. Trans and lgbt themes encouraged.PS: catch the bobs burgers reference?

Dinner had been going pretty well, comparatively. Logan hadn't snapped at your dad for his passive aggression, and your mom hadn't commented on how you'd gained weight. It wasn't your fault your beloved boyfriend seemed to be fattening you up!

All in all, a peaceful dinner.

Until your brother, Mark, had to be a dick.

"You still writing on Wattpad?" He asked, an innocent enough question but you knew that tone. Logan stiffened, so you put a hand on his thigh. He chewed hard on the broccoli.

You brace yourself a bit. "Yeah, I got the fanfictions. But I'll have you know, it's a fun hobby and I do pretty well for myself-"

"Writing men kissing on tumblr isn't a hobby any more than making a porno is."

Logan speaks, through a full mouth. "I bet you're the porn expert, considering you're not getting any from anyone else."

"Except your mom."

You raise to hands at both Logan and Mark "Knock if off you two!"

Your mom is glaring at Mark for mentioning porn at the table, but he's pretending to be very interested in his chicken Alfredo.

Still, your dad always has something to say. "It's a shame you can't make money off that. I don't really understand why you do it."

"For fun?" You didn't know what not to get. Your grandma made terrible janky blankets and you all gushed over them. You loved them of course, because it was grandma. Why couldn't you have a hobby weather or not you were good?

But Logan wouldn't let the silence be filled with your families assumptions. "Well, she's writing a book, actually. And it's good, really fu- I mean, it's really good." Logan abides by your moms no swearing rule, but she pays no mind to the always f word as she somehow finds a reason to embarrass you.

"Oh she's always talking about some book or whatever. As a kid it was mystery because she was into the boxcar children. As a teen she was going to write the next big dystopian trilogy." She covers her mouth as she laughs about it.

Logans hand flexes and tightens under the table, trying to remain calm. "And what did you say when she told you about these?"

"Well, I told her she should be more realistic. I mean, I read some of her writing-"

"Because you snooped through my notebooks!"

"And it wasn't exactly Hunger Games."

Logan set down his plate. "So let me get this straight, Diane."

"Lo..." You warn.

"You snooped through notebooks that your daughter wrote by hand on notebooks, at what, 14, 15? Told her that this first draft, which I cannot stress enough, was written on a notebook, wasn't good enough to be published, then you're shocked she didn't finish it?"

When you're moms mouth gapped, your dad stepped in. "She doesn't finish anything, I'm sure you picked up on that. I mean, how many half started art projects are in your house right now?"

An embaressing amount. The other day, you found three different blankets with the same color scheem started. Three! Thrice, you had the same idea and never followed through.

Your boyfriend was not deterred. "Well, maybe, she needs someone whose going to support her, encourage her. Didn't seem like she had a lot of that before."

"WHELP!" You slap your knees, then stand up. "This has been great, but as usual we passed the 15 minute mark, and right on cue, it's time to go."

Your dad was as stubborn as Logan was and stood too. "Oh yeah, and just what are you gonna do to support her, to magically fixed years of fail-"

As you pulled Logan toward the door, Logan counts off on his fingers. "One, tell her that she can actually do it, because she CAN, two, check in on her and let her brainstorm with me. Have you ever actually asked about her plot? No?"

You're giggling to yourself now. Dinner was ruined, but you liked that Logan didn't stand for people talking bad about you.

"And three, she's gonna quit her job so she can focus on writing!"

Well. That one was new. Logan always encouraged your novel in progress, he listened about the characters and offered ideas, gave you a sounding board that wasn't judgmental. Yes, you've complained about no time for writing when you work so much but... No matter, you show a united front in front of your dad.

"Yeah! Because he believes in me." And you were out the door.

*

The drive back was quiet. Espresso was on the radio, and you knew he must be distracted because he didn't change the station, so you spoke first.

"I don't have to quit my-"

"I was gonna talk to you about-"

You both start at the same time. Then you laugh. "You first, Lo."

His body language relaxes for the first time tonight. "I didn't mean to spring that on yuh." I don't wancha to think I'm like. Trying to tell you what to do or make you financially dependent."

"I don't." You assure him. "So... you thought about this?"

He nods. "Yeah I um... I really think you got something good here, baby. I think if you took leave for a while ad really could just focus on the book, it could be something great. I mean, I don't know much about books but even I like it, so... you know... it's gotta be good."

Warmth fills your body as a blush festers under your skin. Logan really believed in you. He believed in your book enough that he was willing to take this risk on you.

"Can we... afford that?"

"Well I thought..." He rubbed the back of his neck. "I can always take overtime at work. If I pick up another day or two-"

"Logan! I can't ask your to do that!"

"You're not." He turns to you briefly, smiling, then back to the road. "I'm asking to do this for you, if you'll let me. Then, when you're a high falutin writer, I can be your sugar baby." He pokes yoru side, making you giggle

Still, seed of doubt were deeply entrenched. "But what if I don't do good? It doesn't sell?"

Logan shrugs. "Well, I guess... then you'll try again. Or you don't, an you'll know you finished it and you tried."

A pause. "You're really willing to do this for me?"

"Baby..." He places a hand on yours, eyes once again drifting only briefly from the road to you, then back. "I'd get the moon right now if you asked. Let me do this for us."

For us.

***********

Okay thats it im done im sorry, that was my own daddy issues, mommy issues, brother issues- lort help lmfao

anyway if you like this, check out my other stuff on my masterlist! if you like dark content, most of my logan is being written over at @romana-after-dark

the bobs burgers referece was the 15 min rule. at exactly 15 min, big bobs says something mean to bob asdfghjkl

my middle brother hosted a surprise party for my parents anniversary and we decided to have me an the ret of my siblings be surprise one, have my oldest brother hiding bc he lives the furthest away for surprise 2, then downstairs my extended family for three. My dad walks in, sees me and my youngest brother who he was't expecting, and before he even says hi he says "where's *oldest brother*" so that felt cool. And we got into a bit of an arguement where he was discrediting my feelings about the move when i was a teenager, and then my brothers and sister were assholes- and i just kept thinking i want logan or santi or joel here to protect me and defend me even against little stuff.

enough about me!

send your requests! give me chubby read, black reader, trans reader, native reader, bi reader, male reader- literally whatever tf you want. I cant say it'll be as long as this one but i got you. you desver to feel supported.

[asphodeline-lutea]

How Forgetting Almost Everything can Help You Reach Tomorrow: The Importance of the "Amnesia Plot" of Book 12 (and how it might be Dissociative Amnesia)

The amnesia plot at the start of Book 12 is more than often seen as out of place, unnecessary, or even ridiculous. Sure, why have the main character lose his memory all of a sudden? To make the story more intriguing, perhaps, or to show his determination to become king and his willpower?

But as we all know, accidents happen for a reason.

The same applies to the amnesia of Book 12.

Suppose that Hiccup did not get amnesia, he will know that he had lost the Things, and the possibility of him becoming King has been severely reduced.

It has always been one of Hiccup's deepest fears that the Lost Things he had found would fall into the wrong hands, enabling Alvin to become king, causing the destruction of dragons, and the suffering of the humans. Now, it seems that this fear is very close to becoming reality.

To add to all of it, Snotlout had just sacrificed himself so that Hiccup could live and become King. If Hiccup did not become King, then Snotlout’s death would be in vain, and he would be failing Snotlout's trust and faith in him. We see more than once in later parts of Book 12, where he repeatedly states that he is doing this because of Snotlout. (“The very least that Hiccup could do was to make absolutely sure that Snotlout's sacrifice was worth it./ He HAD to do this.”-Book 12, p188; “I take this Crown in honor of Snotlout.” -Book 12, p221) (Not to mention that he was probably traumatized by Snotlout's death -any thought about this must have been very painful.)

But how, exactly, was he going to do so in this situation? He had none of the Things, only about one day's time until the coronation, and the borders of Tomorrow will be closed, so he would not be able to enter. This really seemed hopeless now- He had been in seemingly hopeless situations before, but none as dark and with stakes as high as this one.

If Hiccup was to go on without amnesia, then he would be under great pressure to become King, while facing serious difficulties, and yet this burden of fear and grief and guilt would be so much heavier than anything he had ever experienced. He could easily fall into the “all my fault” loop of self-blame and despair. If so, then how hard would it be for him to gather all the remaining strength in him to make himself continue to go forward?

Even if he had all his memories, he might have to try to suppress some of them (“I’ll think about it tomorrow”-Book 11, p308), in order to prevent himself from sinking into the pain of them, and keep himself going.

So, ironically, the amnesia could be seen as the kindness of Fate, or a rare example of the remaining bits of kindness in Cressida.

So you see, the amnesia plot was necessary to the story.

But wait- there's more to this plot.

What if the amnesia was not, or not only, caused by a hit to the head?

What if Hiccup himself, consciously or unconsciously, induced that amnesia on himself, to block out the pain, so he could go on towards Tomorrow? Though this would imply that he already knew he lost the Things before he woke up. But it is possible that he had already realized it subconsciously.

(I know I'm going more into speculative grounds now, but since Cressida wrote it as so, then it is open to interpretations, as long as they are logical enough within the story.)

Searching on the Internet, I found this:

Dissociative amnesia.

You see how this could actually fit into the story?

(I am no expert about dissociative amnesia, if I get anything wrong feel free to correct me.)

Forgetting one’s identity; memory loss of everything within a long period; amnesia affecting events but not learnt skills (such as speaking Dragonese or tying a kind of knot)- these are all characteristics of dissociative amnesia.

Especially the part where Hiccup regains his memory with help from Toothless- all memories returned, suddenly and forcefully, like a door swinging open. This happens with dissociative amnesia, where the memories are intact but blocked from consciousness to protect the person, but not with organic amnesia, where the memories are damaged, and usually cannot be completely cured.

(A small detail: with this approach, the fact that his memories about Snotlout returned later than the rest, might suggest that this was part of the trauma that caused the amnesia.)

In addition, in his amnesia state, Hiccup still seems to know that he must get to Tomorrow. Even though he was exhausted, ragged, barely alive, and had no conscious idea of why he was doing this, "something within him" made him push on towards Tomorrow. This fits in with the dissociative amnesia hypothesis.

Of course, I'm not saying that this is the "correct" explanation, Cressida might or might not have intended it to be dissociative amnesia, but since she wrote it in such a way, then it is open to this kind of interpretation.

However, this approach, interpreting the amnesia plot as dissociative amnesia, would be logical and connected with the previous events and Hiccup's character. And of course, it brings forth much more pain and emotional angst.

[medical-anon-whau]

Heya!

@bleedingichorhearts @kit-williams @egrets-not-regrets @gallifreyianrosearkytiorsusan

I've got another life update for everyone. Per suggestions, I was able to ask the Ultramarine how I should dress when meeting with the person in charge, and dressed accordingly, which was semi-formal. I had to run out real quick to get an appropriate pair of dress shoes before the meeting, but I managed alright.

I was rather surprised that Stalker did, in fact, show up to the meeting, but it'd definitely possible that they contacted him via Mysterious Astartes Methods. He accused me of a number of things, and here are the list of "charges"

1) aiding and abetting a "Fallen" Dark Angel

2) refusing to allow an Interrogator Chaplain to complete his sanctioned duties

3) defacing astartes armor (Jerk is still covered in glitter. I have the paint and glitter bombs on my person right now in case be pulls some more nonsense)

4) Colluding willingly with an Alpha Legionnaire to torment a Loyal Astartes

5) Distracting A Dark Angel during the course of his duties.

Now, I'm no law expert, but I figured he might pull some letitigous bullshit and have been doing some research on my own. I wasn't entirely sure what the Ultramarine Base Commander was going to say in response, but I pointed out that;

1) In the country that I am living in and so are they, the lawful government does not, to my knowledge, recognize the authority of Astartes Chaplains when it comes to crimes accused or actual committed by an astartes BEFORE THEY CAME TO EARTH

2) they did not involve local law enforcement before attempting to take the Fallen in question who has been the primary caretaker for a chronically ill and weakened human in good faith for the better part of a decade. I also got statements from both the human and their neighbors about the character of the Fallen and his daily activities, as well as from my patient's family

3) he has been harassing and willfully intimidating me with the intent to scare - which are both actual crimes - for over two months now. I have been keeping as accurate an account of each instance and brought a copy of that journal with me to the meeting (I have several copies of all the information I brought with me, in case Jerk tries anything. I also left this Intel with both Fallen and the Alpharii) for the base commander or whoever to read through at their convenience.

4) talking with other people who he's also deliberately antagonizing to try and get him to stop is not a crime, and the Alpha Legionnaire (I did not reveal that I know for a fact there are at least three of them in that house - more about the third Alpharius later) is concerned for the long term effects the stress of Jerk tormenting me will have on the care I'm able to provide to his sickly patient, and had suggestions on how to get Jerk to back off when I asked for them.

5) I JUST WANT HIM TO LEAVE ME THE FUCK ALONE AND STOP HARASSING FAMILY OF MY PATIENTS! JUST FUCK OFF!

Noooot that I deliberately cursed Jerk in front of the base commander. I almost cussed him out several times though. The giant fucker is tapdancing on my last nerve.

The base commander was quiet and seemed thoughtful at the gathered evidence I had provided for him. He began talking in a language I don't understand, and Jerk periodically answered back. He started getting agitated the longer the Mystery Talk went on.

A half hour of conversation I did not understand later and the base commander said that he was going to be restricting Ghaliel (Jerk's Actual Name, apparently) to base for the next month, and to report him if he breaks his restriction.

That was two days ago. So far, Jerk hasn't been trying to scare me... I was also able to speak with one of the Librarians after the meeting with the base commander.

Apparently, I have a weak bond with an astartes. I really hope it's with one of the Alpharii. They're fun, playful and caring.

Oh right! The third Alpharius!

I happened to stumble across all three of them whispering to each other, the day before I was gonna meet with the base commander, during my shift with their human family member. I'm pretty sure they did that on purpose, as alpharius number 3 handed me the last of the character testimonies I was hoping to get for Fallen in exchange for two glitter-paint bombs.

I don't want to k ow what he plans on doing with them, his cackling was terrifying.

[venerawrites]

THANK YOU wonderful lovely person for writing for this fandom 😍 so glad you're here!💐

if you feel inspired, may I request some hurt/comfort Sasuke goodness? can be modern au depression or dealing w the aftermath of the truth behind the Uchiha massacre...are there any ways to help him out of a bereft slump or have faith in the future again?

also, your theme and artwork choices are simply gorgeous 🙌🏻 and the delicious angst 🤤

author's note: thank you so much for your beautiful words! I have been waiting to be in the right mood for this one, so I am really sorry you had to wait this long... I really hope you like it, because I always feel like comfort is the hardest for me to write. Thank you for requesting and for the idea! <3

Some people leave your life just as unexpectedly as they show up. They offer nothing but distant memories of shared late evenings and cold tea, which soon make you question your sanity and if they were ever real at all.

Such person was Sasuke Uchiha.

You met him years ago, while he was working for a shady man called Orochimaru and was in pursuit of revenge against his brother. He was not like any boy you've met before: arrogant, proud, constantly tense, and untrusting. Rarely talked about himself, and much preferred to sit in silence, dwelling on his own thoughts, than to voice his feelings and opinions out loud. He always seemed in a hurry, constantly telling you he could stay no longer than an hour before he had to leave again.

To this day you never learned the true intentions behind his visits. The first time it was a simple call for help - sitting on a lone hill between the borders of the Land of Wind and the Land of Rivers, he easily mistaken your cottage for an abandoned house where he could seek refuge after being badly wounded.

A terrifying surprise was written on both of your faces once you came back home later that afternoon only to find the black-haired ninja bleeding heavily on your bed. You were no medic, but you used your limited knowledge of herbal medicine to help his recovery as much as you could. In return, he spared your life.

He visited irregularly, but often after this. Sometimes he showed up three times per week, and sometimes months passed before you heard from him again. Sasuke never offered any explanation about where he was or what he was doing, instead often justifying his random appearances as his need for alternative treatment for his scars and wound.

The first few times it made you raise your brows in question - you were not an expert healer, all you knew being tales passed down from your grandmother about the properties of a handful of plants. Yet, you never spilled your suspicion out loud to him, instead quietly finding comfort in his presence.

It was strange how well you got along, your shared love for silence and solitude somehow bringing you together. Most of the time you just sat there, next to each other, quietly sipping your tea and staring at the sky.

Sometimes you caught him glancing at you or curiously inspecting all the pictures and books you had on the shelves around your living room, his lips pressed into a thin line of concentration, while he tried to put the pieces of your life story together in his mind. He never asked you for more other than your name and your age. You never offered anything more either.

It took a few months after his last visit for you to realize he wasn't coming back and that in the end, he was no more than a stranger to you - you didn't know anything about him other than his name, his birth village, and the fact that he wanted to kill his brother. His motives were never revealed, and his ambitions for the future - never shared.

Despite this, it always felt like he was some form of friend to you. There was a silent understanding that both of you carried too much weight on your shoulders and you did not wish to revisit a painful past by re-telling it, instead finding peace in watching the beauty of the stars up the sky or the birds, who migrated to their new home in the late summer afternoons.

Years have passed since then. What you cherished as meaningful moments soon turned into dusty memories, that never reminded you of him outside your dreams. Life continued, despite time staying still - time always felt frozen when you lived a life by yourself, away from all humanity.

So when you found him one day, glaring at you with red eyes, you were both dumbfounded and terrified. He looked at you in a way that screamed hatred, rage, sadness, and pain. For a second you wondered if they were directed at you.

"I didn't know where else to go."

His voice was the total opposite of how he looked - it was small and weak, almost on the verge of breaking.

You quickly stepped aside, an unspoken invitation for him to come into your home. His feet hurried past you and you closed the door after him, immediately walking toward the kitchen to prepare jasmine tea. His favourite. Sasuke didn't like tea, but there was something about the way you prepared it that always eased both his muscles and his nerves.

After a while you came back, holding two white mugs in your hands, only to find him with his head buried in his hands and his knee shaking violently. You quickly sat next to him, before placing the drinks on the table and turning toward him, instinctively placing your hand on his back, rubbing small circles.

"I did it", he said with a hoarse voice, his head still hanging low, his black locks covering his face from you. There was no need for him to say anything else - these three words were enough for you to understand that he has finally achieved his goal. The result, however, seemed not to be what he hoped for.

"I am sorry."

Sasuke finally raised his head, looking at you with narrowed eyes. You could see the trail of dry tears covering his cheeks and you easily assumed he must have cried while you were in the kitchen. His lips were twisted in a scowl and he let out an angry breath through his nose.

"I don't need your pity!"

Despite the aggression in his tone, his eyes started to tear up again and he squeezed his eyelids shut in a poor attempt to stop them from falling.

"I have finally learned the truth", he hissed through gritted teeth, "I finally learned why my brother really did it."

The mention of the word "brother" seemed to trigger something in him and the tears started flowing freely from his eyes, while his lips started to mumble incoherent sentences about the Uchiha Massacre, Konoha, and the orders the elders gave to his brother. It was a mess - he kept referring back to his talks with a man named "Madara" while jumping back and forth between the memories of that bloody night and his plans for destroying the Leaf. It took you a while to piece the chronology together, while the feelings he kept bottling for years just kept erupting, reducing what you once knew as a stoic and controlled man, into a sobbing, raging mess on the floor.

It took around an hour for him to finish his story and for you to quietly absorb every detail, while he poured his heart out to you. The hand that was first rubbing soothing patterns on his back, was laying flat in his palm, while his fingers squeezed it for dear life. It almost looked like he was afraid that you were nothing more than a fruit of his imagination and if he let go, you would disappear into thin air and leave him by himself.

"I will destroy them!", the vow was made once there were no more tears left for him to cry, "They will all pay for what they did to my clan! To Itachi! To ME!

Taking a sip of your tea, you hummed under your breath, before turning towards him. For the whole time he was here, you didn't comment on anything he told you, but you also didn't have the chance to do so, as Sasuke left no time between his voiced thoughts for you to mutter even a word.

"And then what?", the question surprised him and he turned to you with confused expression.

"What do you mean "then what?"

Pulling your hand away, you tilted your head to the side.

"You are going to destroy your village, sacrificing the innocent lives of many, including your old friends, teammates, and teachers", you thought out loud, moving your eyes toward the old map of the world that hung framed on the wall opposite you, "And then what? The Leaf's allies would without question turn against you, and then you are going to have to destroy them too. A bloody path, that would eventually end either in your early death or in pushing someone else to take your path and seek revenge on you."

The more you talked, the lower his brows were furrowing to the point he was staring at you under the dark shade of his frowning face. His face was almost distorted - switching from extreme emotions of sadness and grief to anger and aggression, his whole expression was now twisted in an almost inhuman grimace, a mixture of all.

"None of them are innocent", he huffed, his jaw working, "They were all enjoying a carefree life, because of the sacrifice of my brother... and even then, they still called him a traitor."

There were no words of rebuttal you could offer. You didn't know his life in the village, nor how the people there behaved. Perhaps, the people living there were monsters, who lacked both heart and soul. But weren't they like that everywhere? You may have lived alone and detached from society, but you had enough contact with traveling ninjas - both rogue and village warriors - to know that they were all often fighting for the same cause, it was just their ideas of how it could be achieved that differed.

"And is that something that he would wanted?"

The man lifted his knee and rested his arm on top of it. He seemed to contemplate your question, the muscles on his face twitching every few seconds.

"No", the truth came out as a disappointed sigh. His fingers clenched and you could hear his teeth gritting, before he looked at you with cold eyes.

"But I am not him! I won't repeat the same mistakes!"

Holding his gaze felt almost like staring into the eye of a brewing storm. The determination that he radiated hinted that this is was just the beginning - he still had more hate and more anger to give to the world.

"Yet you seem to repeat your own mistakes over and over", the challenge was bold and even he seemed taken aback. Sasuke rarely got people opposing him - other than Naruto, who always had to have a contrasting opinion - but usually his ideas were met either with encouragement or with silence. His own team was either too scared or too busy with their own worries to question him and his motives, often just nodding their heads at whatever he said.

A dry chuckle left his lips before he rubbed his eyes with his fingers. Every time he came he was met with the comfort of silence, your bond built entirely on the feeling of the safety he felt every time he visited. Now he wondered if that bond was even real - never had he expected that you would actually talk so much, let alone NOT support him.

He imagined that he would just come here, you would make him his favourite tea... and he didn't know what he was thinking when he came here. He didn't plan to tell you any of the truth he learned about his clan's death and Itachi, yet the sentences just kept spilling out of his body, almost like he had no control over it.

"What do you know?", he scoffed, giving you a mocking look, "You live here alone in a cabin in the middle of nowhere."

Sasuke suddenly leaned forward, his eyes narrowing.

"What exactly do you know about the world or even about living? The gravest mistake you probably made was to put too much water in your stupid tea. You know nothing about pain or the real world out there! You know nothing about having everything taken away from you!"

Your expression hardened. You held his furious stare, bravely accepting his poisonous words, which cut deeper and deeper into your soul. Once he finished talking, his breath was rigid once again.

"You will be no different than them", you stated blankly and the man grumbled in response, "The people who pushed your brother to commit these crimes. And I know deep down, you realise that too... Because somewhere out there there is a little kid, who just like you will one day waste his whole life chasing you, dreaming of punishing you, till they become just like you. And the cycle will continue."

His eyes were now back to his original onyx colour, yet the burning sensation they brought to your insides was just the same.

"I didn't come here for you to offer me lessons of morality."

"Why did you come then?"

No answer.

"I offer you nothing, but my honesty", you continued, standing up from your seat, "If you are here to seek support and encouragement for your plans of destroying the lives of thousands of innocent people, you are in the wrong place."

It was definitely a mistake visiting you. He should've known better. Why you, of all people, would understand him?

Grabbing his stuff, he followed your figure into the kitchen. You seemed unbothered by his looming presence behind you, instead focusing on washing the two empty cups. Once you were done, you just rested your hands on the counter, facing the big kitchen window that overlooked the forest. If it wasn't for the faint breathing sound, you would have thought he had left.

"There is light inside you, Sasuke", you finally said, "And no matter how hard you try to fight it, it is there. Don't try to kill it! Use it and spread it in order to bring the change you want to see."

"You don't know me!"

"Maybe not as much as I would like", you shrugged your shoulders, your eyes still gazing at the trees whose branches danced elegantly under the wind, "But I know if you were really that heartless, as you like me to think, you would've drawn that katana you rest your hand on a long time ago."

Sasuke moved his fingers away as if the handle of his weapon suddenly burned his skin and his head dropped low. How did you know, when your back was facing him the whole time?

Before he could raise his question, you started walking toward the door, waving your hand after you.

"Come!"

Not leaving any time for an answer, your form was already outside by the time he could register your simple command and follow it. He was not one to do what others told him to, but his body seemed to act on its own, his steps echoing after yours before his mind could protest.

The man found you sitting on your front steps, a place where you and he have shared countless late nights, just gazing at the sky above you. Like a habit, he sat next to you, easing into the comfort of your old routine without further questioning.

"This area was a village back when my parents were children. It was a small one - only a handful of farmers and herb gatherers", Sasuke looked at you in surprise, before scanning the area. He had never paid attention to the surroundings of your home, noting only the existence of a forest on the right and a large meadow on the left. Now, on a closer inspection, he could see the remaining stones and paths, which were half-covered by moss and too strategically placed around to be just random rocks.

There were remaining memories of buildings now long gone.

"My grandmother always said that our ancestors were tasked with the responsibility to restore what the Great Nations destroyed", you continued, bringing his attention back to you, "Where the ninja waged war, we followed to take care of the land and bring it back to life. Where the villagers left burned forests after they sought new places to build, we moved to these places to protect the balance between the human world and the natural one."

Sasuke listened patiently, his brows furrowed in confusion. Where were you getting with this story? And more importantly, where were all these people you talked about?

Almost like you've read his mind, your head turned toward him with a small sad smile on your lips.

"Our communities have been destroyed dozens of times and they rebuilt themselves just as many. This village was destroyed before I was even born by a conflict between the Land of Wind and the Land of River, one which had nothing to do with the hard-working people who were guilty only of trying to take care of the forest and wildlife", you looked towards your crossed fingers in your lap, suddenly overwhelmed of the sad destiny your family must have suffered.

"There is no greater sin than the arrogance of a man blinded by revenge. Shinobi keep waging wars with each other, each drop of blood they spill being with price of at least one innocent life. And they keep destroying, blinded by their hate, claiming that they only want to "save the world"", suddenly grabbing his arm, you pointed at the trees with your other hand, before dragging it across the air to the meadow, "But look!"

The onyx eyes followed the movement of your finger, before they rested on your face unimpressed.

"Look at what? Trees and grass?"

You huffed at his words, rolling your eyes.

"You are blind, Sasuke!", your forefinger poked his temple a few times and you could feel him stiffen under your touch, "You watch, but you don't see! It is not just trees and grass!"

When he offered no other reply than a small curling of his lips downwards, you gently grabbed his chin and forcefully turned it ahead again.

"It is life! A life born out of destruction, out of pain", your hand gestured around you once again, "The truth is the world doesn't need saving! It has existed for many, many years before us and will exist for many, many years after us. It is us, humans, that need saving... and not by more blood spilling or fear, or hate, or whatever other false values they try to teach you in your ninja academies."

His muscles finally started to relax under your touch, while he kept staring ahead, finally understanding the meaning of the words that you were saying. The slow realization that destroying Konoha is not the medicine for his bleeding soul was slowly creeping into his mind, suddenly making him confused and unsure.

"What if we can't be saved?", the heavy doubts that kept holding him down finally came to the surface, "What if we just... keep destroying?"

You looked at him in silence, before finally letting go of his arm. The sudden removal of warmth made him involuntarily shiver.

"We will keep destroying", you finally answered, pressing your tongue inside your cheek in thought, "I guess it is in our nature! But we will also rebuild. And we will learn from our past mistakes, making sure that we will not repeat them again."

Signing, you turned toward him, before reaching out for his hand again. All his life, Sasuke always thought he hated physical touch, but now it felt right. It felt like it was a silent promise that everything will somehow be alright.

"Do not go down the same path of hatred, Sasuke. Your destination will keep being the same, no matter how hard you try to avoid it", the corners of your lips curved slightly upwards, "Your pursuit for a better world is noble, but you can't do it alone! The same way this forest and meadow did not just pop in one day by themselves - it took years for them to grow, helped by bees, the birds, and even the wind and the rain... They all did their own part. The same way you need to do yours, alongside your friends."

The silence that followed was long, yet comfortable. His fingers wrapped around your palm, keeping your hand in his, while his mind considered the truth you just spoke. There was a part inside of him - the one that was still hurt and crying - that wanted to convince him that it was all just an empty talk. That he should not give up what he already started.

Another part, however, what seemed to be a louder one and for some reason sounded a lot like his brother's voice in his head, was agreeing with you, shifting the perspective he was looking from.

A long time passed till he spoke again.

"Promise me", there was no trace of anger on his face anymore, just tiredness, "That you will always be clear and honest with me."

You couldn't help the small smile that formed on his lips.

"I promise."

------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Two years have passed since the end of the war and Sasuke was once again on the road, this time accompanied by Sakura. Their final destination was unclear, but the first stop was already set in his mind - the cottage sitting on a hill between the borders of the Land of Wind and the Land of Rivers. He has not seen you since that night you opened his eyes to what is really important, but the thought of you never left his mind.

The woman next to him, who still had an unclear status between a teammate and friend, kept trying to make him share where were they going, but was often met either with just silence or with the simple explanation of "someone important". The description make her a bit uneasy, wondering who could have such an impact on Sasuke to want to check on them first thing after he was allowed to leave, but she did not question further, still unsure of how far the man's boundaries lie.

Once they got to the hill, however, her uneasiness grew.

"Sasuke, there is nothing here", she said, looking around the vast field that bordered a forest nearby, "Are you sure that person lived here? Maybe they moved?"

The man did not reply, his body being frozen in place. You were gone, the house was gone, it was just wild nature. He suddenly tensed, once he felt Sakura's hand laying flat between his shoulder blades and running small circles on top of the clothed skin.

Just like you did that night.

Sasuke made a few steps further, before kneeling and touching the ground. While looking the same as the rest at first glance, the grass covering the area where he vividly remembered your house being seemed different... almost greener, yet smaller.

A small parchment of paper poked out of the dirt next to his fingers and he carefully lifted it, revealing a burnt part of the world map that hung on your wall once. The majority of it was gone, but he could clearly make out the names of the Land of Wind, The Land of Rivers, and the Land of Fire. Right in the middle, was a small drawing of a few houses - an indication of where your community once resided. Where you once were.

Sakura peered over his shoulder, looking at the piece of paper with interest.

"There still don't seem to be any indication for a building being here", she noted, before kneeling next to him and caressing the grass with her fingers, "This part of the field was grown by someone. Look, it is a different shade and size from the rest! It is like someone tried to cover the area."

Sasuke stood up, eyes still focused on the piece of paper. There was one, just a brief pencil line, that started from the drawn houses and continued up, till it ended at the burnt end. The man has stared at least a hundred times at the map in your house and he could swear he has never seen this line on it.

"You must have used it to plan where to leave next", he thought to himself. Because deep down he knew you were not dead - everything was left too perfect, including planting seeds in the place which you used to occupy, for him to believe you had met your end.

No, you had to be somewhere out there, rebuilding what shinobi like him have destroyed during the war.

He turned his head toward the sun, watching it slowly dip beyond the horizon. His fingers put the paper in his pocket, before he turned to Sakura, informing her they have to go and find an inn before it gets too dark.

Some people leave your life just as unexpectedly as they show up. They offer nothing but distant memories of shared late evenings and cold tea, which soon make you question your sanity and if they were ever real at all.

And for Sasuke, such person was you.

cc artwork: Clement Tingry

[rainboneish]

there has been a lot of discussion about who the character on the left could possibly be, and until we get confirmation from gege i think it’s impossible to say for sure. People have theorized about it being his mother, kenjaku in the form he originally met them in, or someone representing a bigger concept (eg. the first person he killed without a proper reason, or, based on the miko dress, a representation of how sorcerers/religious institutions rejected him for his appearance), which are all decent possibilities

all of those possibilities aside, there is only one character we have seen in the story who fits the general appearance of the character (except for the miko robes). Yorozu’s original appearance is shown to have long straight black hair in a hime cut, like the woman in the picture

her and uraume are also on the same sides of sukuna in the heian era panel we got

the main counter arguments to it being Yorozu (other than her habitual nudity not lining up with the character in chapter 271 wearing a priestess’ robes) that i have seen is that using her as an opposite to Uraume doesn’t really make sense, but i would like to argue that it does. Let’s look at the connection both of them have with Sukuna

Uraume is Sukuna’s most faithful retainer. (People disagree on if their bond is a master-servant bond, if their feelings are more romantic or platonic but ultimately that doesn’t matter here) Uraume is someone who, according to Gege, was allowed to stick by Sukuna because he enjoyed their cooking, a trait that is not immediately connected to his power or status as the strongest. Yes it’s tied into cannibalism, but ultimately, while Uraume clearly admires Sukuna’s power, they don’t seem to want anything except to be allowed to stay by his side and help him in any way they can. They never try to reach for the position as the strongest, they just become strong enough to be able to stick by his side. It is possible that their bond is partially based on them both being social outcasts in some way (though we don’t know if that truly was the case for Uraume, people have just been speculating based on them seeming removed from the gender binary, but i am not an expert on gender identity in heian era japan).

In any case, if Uraume is considered a symbol of the “good path”, which they seem to be by the implication of “going north” with sukuna, they would represent the unconditional care that Sukuna rejected (from yuji, and in general because of his fear of rejection that Mahito pointed out in that final interaction) in his first life

So then, if the other person is indeed Yorozu, she would have to represent the path of the Strongest in history, the path of isolation we saw Sukuna follow.

The first thing a lot of people think of with Yorozu is her obsession with/love for Sukuna, but let’s dig a little deeper into the circumstances of those feelings.

Yorozu’s love for Sukuna is a twisted and unrequited one, based on her obsession with his power. She does not understand him and he is shown to be unimpressed by her advances and (while there are other, “bath” related reasons, Sukuna refused to connect with her in the way she wants to. She wanted to alleviate his loneliness by killing him and taking the mantel of the strongest and the loneliness that comes with it as her own. Even Sukuna laughs off the idea that her love is true. While it’s not fleshed out on screen/in the panels we get, it’s quite likely that her infatuation with Sukuna started because of his overwhelming power, making her feelings fully dependent on his mantel as the strongest and the path of violence that he chose. Her last act is to give Sukuna a new version of Kamutoke. She, like Kashimo, thought Sukuna was beautiful because of his power, only trying to connect with him through power.

in addition to that, she was acknowledged and appointed by the Fujiwara so it is possible that the miko robes are what she was supposed to wear, similar to Utahime and the whole cover of jujutsu tech being a religious school, even if she clearly didn’t.

so yeah, if south for sukuna is love through acknowledge as the strongest, and north is unconditional love/companionship removed from power, i think Yorozu can represent the path Sukuna was on in his first life

[puckpocketed]

caps fan here!

as follower of pld (the few, the proud, the courageous!), i was wondering if you had any thoughts about how he might fit in with our team, assuming he's going to be 1C with Ovi on the left and one of Wilson or Mangiapane on the right, and basically taking the former Kuznetsov/Backstrom spot on the halfwall on PP1. my thinking is that he can easily return to being a 60 point player just by the increase in ice time alone this coming season, and maybe even flirt with 70 if he has a triggerman like big O on his wing.

as someone who knows a hell of a lot more about PLD than i do, is that just wishful thinking because i'm a caps fan? what do you think?

The PLD Post, Part 2: mask-OFF

Hii!! (we are SO brave and SO correct). i am so sorry this took ages to answer, i was trying to decide how serious to be. I will admit, I was hesitant about going mask-off and hitting up the microstats and revealing that i do seriously think he can be better than he was bc that shit is kinda lame ESPECIALLY when defending a clear failhorse. but at this point any rep i have as someone with good opinions must be gone considering how many media scapegoats i've attached myself to (i got a fucking. c.gauthier ask the other day aslkjdkljas) so. mask is coming off. we've hit somewhere between well-considered manifesto and vibe check so . um. enjoy!!

I remain optimistic going from everything I've heard and from what you're saying here! But, big big asterisk. He absolutely needs to take ownership of his lack of engagement. when he speaks in media availability I believe him when he says he wants to change. The will to change is there, idk if it’s possible that any player would be satisfied with their performance being the way his was. There’s a lot that needs to be unpacked about his lack of production, the Character Issues, and what his role might look like going forward. You and any other Caps fan who reads this will have to tell me if the fit is right. Hockey talk below the cut lol!!

So before I start I have to say I know dick all about the Caps except:

You're dragging that old man (Ovechkin) to Gretzky's lawn (record) to set it on fire (break it before he retires)

Everyone is pining away for your very very injured 1C who is also Ovechkin's boybestfriend/perfect set-up guy/work wife

There's. intricate pre-game rituals?

So I'm not sure I can speak to how he will fit with your (our? i AM picking the Caps up fr given every acquisition/draft pick they've made) team with any depth or specificity. also i don't think i'd call myself a PLD expert. like. i just got here !! I haven't been following him since he was drafted or anything!! I have, however, consumed TOO MANY Kings games this past season and I can give you a broad look at what actually happened with them and why I think it didn't work out. I will not be making any overtures about being unbiased. My biases WILL slip through because I think Dubois is a sweetheart and I find the mental exercise of defending him fun <3 I’ll give you stats and observations and I will build a story that runs counter to what the prevailing media narratives say. While I stand by my opinions, they're also just one of many available interpretations of what happened.

character concerns

Everyone will be bringing it up at the first speed bump of the season, the first bad game he has. Please be prepared to have a crisis of faith and also be deeply disappointed in him. god knows I am, like, all the time <3 But... I always want to dig deeper when it comes to dominant narratives, because in following multiple teams I’ve become acutely aware of just how miserably Bad media can be at reporting on teams that aren’t their own.

I hear “Locker room cancer” accusations bandied about and I’ve yet to see anyone produce a primary source for this — podcasters, journalists, even people on nhl broadcasts will throw these words around so casually, assuming they’re correct because everyone knows the story. Some confounding factors in the character narratives arise when you scratch the surface. People who've worked with him speak well enough of him. Todd McLellan called him “misunderstood”, and had nothing bad to say about his character.

Matt Roy, who also just got picked up by the Caps, has recently said he’s a great teammate. MORE proof if you want to hear it directly, Roy went on Dropping The Gloves and had this to say about Dubois (transcript by me):

[on what actually happened] Honestly, I don’t know. I mean if you asked him he would say he had a down year. But it’s nothing like — I feel like the media paints this picture of him, and to me it couldn’t be further from the truth, you know. He’s a great teammate, he’s a great locker room guy, he gets along with everybody. So, in terms of all that I don’t know where the media is getting all this stuff. If I hated the guy I probably wouldn’t have come to Washington. He’s one of my friends on the team and I really think he’s going to have a bounce back year. I think he’s really going to be good for the team.

Matt Roy signed with the Caps of his own free will as an RD, a contested free agent in a sparse market, knowing Dubois was already here. He could’ve gone to plenty of different places. Why the hell would Roy sign here long-term, clearly wanting to play and win, if Dubois was as disliked as some pundits would have us believe??? Credible reports (and not just speculation) point to PLD’s other teammates liking him!! 

And here’s some propaganda; I direct you to this extremely sweet video where he gets asked about assisting on Akil Thomas' first NHL goal (and a bunch of other first NHL goals). He is so, so genuinely happy for Akil, who battled through injuries that set back his development for years. Just LOOK at his smile!! He can’t hold it back. (Others have said this but it looks like a little v. Like :> !!!! HELLO !!)

How does all of this happen when, supposedly, he’s a low-character asshole and a “locker room cancer”? It doesn’t line up for me.

On the other hand, I have seen Dubois cruise. He really can’t seem to bounce back from a poor start, and if you were just looking from the outside in, the scoresheet this year reflects this. The critique is fair; I’ve turned this over in my head enough times. there are less physically gifted, less skilled players, who are working so hard to stay in this league, and Dubois’ poor showing does feel somewhat like, idk, something I’d be mad about usually.

Here comes the “but”. Call this next bit the narrative section, because I’m showing my ass here: I think Dubois gets a lot of scrutiny because of his infamous Shift, which went a specific kind of viral, under the exact right conditions, and it has just. defined his career. And okay… I am not denying that the shift happened, but plenty of guys in this league have taken shifts off. come on. the season is long and they're only human. I’m not excusing it either! It was bad and he deserved his benching. Ideally, he one day becomes a player who always puts effort in. Working hard is one of my favourite traits in any player, and usually this would be enough for me to dismiss him as not worth being invested in.

and yet…. the reactions to his floundering performance feel so much like they’re about expectations as seen through the lens of The Shift. They’re calibrated differently because he went 3rd overall, and he's got this big body, the speed, the skill — it's the fact that he's got the tools and seemingly squanders them. All of this is amplified by the contract he's sitting on and his run of short-term stays on teams. Does he get this much scrutiny if he went in the 2nd or 3rd round? Does he catch this much heat for his low energy performance if that one shift clip hadn’t done all that damage? We’ll never know obviously but . I do wonder.

Final word on the character stuff is that we don’t know what truly went on in those locker rooms and i don't want to give more air time to baseless speculation. What we can examine is the hockey. The hockey tells the truth <3

the 23-24 la kings

Assuming the plan is to give PLD a look at 1/2C while he’s on the Caps, I think he’s a complementary type of player. The way he is right now, I don't think he can drive his own line or pull people up. He works with the calibre of lineys he's got and will produce the expected outcome. That sounds so obvious, but what I’m saying is I don’t think he’s capable of miracles like the best playmakers in the league, he's not about to make your guys look 15 years younger. In this vein, I look at his many first NHL goal assists as a symptom of what kind of linemates he was being paired with all season, and how unstable the situation was. His drop in point production IS more complicated than "he's just a piece of shit". From this article, the best summary I've seen of the Situation PLD was in:

LA acquired a player who had been a top-six center (and at times, winger) his entire career playing with established NHL talent. Yet after investing multiple assets to acquire Dubois and sign him to a significant contract, the team decided to put him in a third-line role where his most common linemate was a first-year NHL player who wasn’t expected to be on the roster in Alex Laferriere. Those two had a revolving door of wingers throughout the season. Moreover, Dubois’ most common on-ice teammates after Laferriere at 5-on-5 this season were Matt Roy and Andreas Englund. Gee, I wonder why he didn’t produce?

Context about Roy and Englund: Roy is a quiet but capable d-man who is defensively geared with a bit of offensive upside (j'adore. does things the right way and is very responsible and good. will throw hits but doesn't chase them or headhunt. I think playing away from the Kings’ more passive system will unlock more of his offensive potential. Matt Roy you will be SO good for the Caps I truly believe mwah mwah); and Englund is a leg weight/goon who, going by every single stat I can pull out, makes his d-partners Worse (with affection <3). Point here is neither of them being on the ice was particularly conducive to a lot of scoring chances.

As I said in my previous post, I think Dubois absolutely needs finishers. At some point there was hype around his shot but I didn't see much of that at all on lak? Eye test says: he was unwilling to shoot, and when he did shoot it felt like there was low/no commitment, no power behind it. Comments on his shooting called him “too deferential” at different turns. That’s just an insulting way to say a guy likes to pass and I truly think it circles back to the expectations thing. Would there be anything wrong with him not being much of a shooter this past season if he was another player? (Can't we just say he passed a lot this season without bringing value judgement into it? leave my failhorse ALONE!!!! like must a man score goals ,can't he be very very sweet and happy for the rookies he assisted ? wailing about it forever.)

More fun stats from that same article:

#1 on lak for passes that led to high-danger scoring chances, and scoring chances in general <- again, not a miracle worker. did not have finishers who could capitalise on these chances. its so fucked up what they did to my failwife

one of the best on lak in actually carrying the puck into the o-zone. (another reason i quite liked watching him!! transition forwards my BELOVED) everything I've ever observed about him off the cuff holds true here: he draws penalties this way, because he's fast and when he's locked in he is pretty good for controlled zone entries <3

Dubois had a career high in even-strength assists per 60, this is all in spite of his weird linemate situation and his reduced TOI and the power play mess (more on this later). he might have been deferring, but I truly think the lack of stability + good finishers, and ice time held him back from being more productive.

jim hiller

Building off that last point: even worse on the stability front, which I did allude to in the initial PLD Post, was what happened when Jim Hiller took over. You must understand one of the first clues that we were working with a different animal of a head coach is he was NOT afraid to line shuffle, and shortly after he found short-term success with that, they started running 11 forwards and 7 defensemen (you can see where it started precisely if you scroll back in lak lb because you'll find ME yelling about it LMAO). This shortened forward bench resulted in mid-game line shuffling, as in it was uncertain as to who they would be playing with from shift to shift. Hiller is on record saying he thinks it was beneficial, per this article:

It’s all about getting his deep forward corps engaged in the game. That’s sometimes difficult if you’re running four full lines and there are penalty kill or power play opportunities that alter the flow of the lines. Especially for the group of forwards who don’t kill penalties – think Kevin Fiala, Viktor Arvidsson, Quinton Byfield, Pierre-Luc Dubois – it’s an opportunity to get them extra shifts and engage in the game. “Some of our other players who don’t penalty kill, you know they can lose the flow of the game, so they enjoy it more I know,” Hiller said of having 11 forwards in action. “We’ve talked about it a lot. We really just think for our team, the way it is right now, that gives us an advantage getting those players more ice time.”

(and ok sorry to go off about my gripes with how the kings are run but .They were doing this into playoffs. This article was written during playoffs. god. CARL GRUNDSTROM, WHO HAS NEVER NOT PLAYED HARD, PLAYED 25 SECONDS IN GAME 2. all this while they were trying to get people 'engaged'. Idk. Maybe it did work for some players. I wasn’t behind that bench. But sitting one of your most energetic and committed forwards during a series in which you’re trying to come back from being down several games was a CHOICE!!!! also like what if you didn't double-shift QB. what then. And we all know how that series ended. lak coaching/management i am beating you with a pillowcase stuffed with bricks . <3)

Much was made of the Hiller takeover. I liked it at the time. In his first couple of media availabilities post-TM, Hiller emphasised bringing back "fun" to the game for many of the players who were slumping — and a reportedly tense locker room during the big skid that lost McLellan his job. It was all very Ted Lasso of him. Hiller also introduced a new way to rate Dubois for his performance every night, separate from the scoresheet. I made jokes about PLD's very special star-chart, everyone who knew about it was making jokes about it. This merit system was tailored towards communicating with Dubois what he did and didn't do well, and while no one ever went into depth about it we do know a few things:

It measured things outside of +/-, goals and assists, and was likely a score out of 5 per metric.

One of the metrics was about hits/physicality, another one was likely ‘compete’ levels.

He alluded to being measured on penalties drawn?? Or something??

Anyway it sort of … worked?? The change in Dubois was pretty immediate, the moment he was given some clear direction to work in. He played some of his BEST games of the year in the wake of this change. He got involved physically, he was not losing steam, he was drawing tons of penalties because he’s huge and fast and has good hands and IF he puts his mind to it he can truly be a transition monster.

CUE THE LINE SHUFFLING… imo, much of the progress made seemed to be lost, and the rest is history.

NOT saying Dubois is free of fault here. Needing that extra motivation to get physically involved is kinda wild, and I understand why for some people it’s a bridge too far. EYE am here for the laffs though and it's really funny that the communication came in the form of super special individualised performance evaluations/a glorified sticker chart. This is why he’s my temperamental desert flower. Wilting violet. Soggy kitten. <3 and for the record I truly don’t think I’d care if he put up 40 points per szn for the rest of his career. I don’t care because he’s a sweetie and the Bit i do when defending him is too funny. I don’t think I’d care if everyone was right about him — I just don’t actually think they are.

the power play problem

So okay, as per part 1 (my last email <3) we know Dubois thrives net front. It’s where he scored a bunch of his goals on the Jets. Every stat and the eye test supports this. So how come Lak had him stationed on the half wall doing jackshit, if he was on the power play at all?? I will admit I drove myself half crazy studying power play structures and watching LA Kings games back before coming up with a garbled, half-formed idea about how LA runs their PP. I was going to attempt to explain it here — had to do with Kevin Fiala and Dubois being lefties and how that's just an awkward passing sitch — but it turns out more than one person has had this thought and MAN I love being validated by actual hockey people. I fully thought i was making shit up in my head for a good week or two, and was seriously considering scrapping this portion . but it’s SO important for contextualising the production drop, so here goes !!

As early as September 2023 there was a story published about PLD’s role on PP1 — a place where he certainly should’ve belonged as a top-6 guy with plenty of ppg’s under his belt. From this article, which explains the issue very very neatly, and much more eloquently than I could ever hope to:

The addition of Pierre-Luc Dubois was a big one this summer; at first glance, he should be a great addition to the power play. But when digging deeper, the Kings might struggle to fit him onto the top unit. Dubois played mostly as the net front player for the Winnipeg Jets last season, the role Gabriel Vilardi often played for the Kings last season. So, it’s an easy one-to-one switch in that spot, right? Not necessarily. Dubois has all the talents to be an effective net-front player. He has the size and strength to battle in front, with the skill to effectively pop down low and create chances. However, his handedness is a big problem for this role. The Kings run their power play primarily on the left side with Kevin Fiala — Anze Kopitar when Fiala is hurt — which necessitates a right shot down low. When a right shot player pops out on the left side, there’s an easy passing angle for the half-wall player and more options for the player down low. Quick passing is key for a successful power and a left-shot can’t move the puck quick enough down low. They would have to either move too far into the corner or take the extra second to step out from and open up their body to create an effective passing angle. Time that would slow the power play down too much and allow the opposition penalty kill to get back into position. There’s also minimal shot threat from a lefty down low. We saw both Vilardi and Viktor Arvidsson frequently take the pass down low and quickly turn it into a shooting opportunity, something a left shot wouldn’t be able to do.

It then goes on to suggest 2 solutions that aren’t appealing at all:

Flip the power play entirely to accommodate Dubois net front. Not great as they dont have the players for that, and if they tried it they’d be hamstringing Adrian Kempe’s one-timer.

PLD on the bumper position. This one’s hard to swallow because that displaces Kopitar to PP2, there’s his position as captain and the optics of moving him off his spot.

In this article it is once again suggested that LA MUST flip their power play and figure out how to get PLD net front. In this article they point out how useless he was playing on the wall down the stretch, and how the only reason he seemed to be able to produce something was because he’d taken Kopitar’s spot in his absence. This article calls to attention Dubois’ worlds performance, where team Canada utilised him net front.

Big picture, the Fit

Do we see the problem here yet? It’s not the flat narrative I was sold by the national media, random assholes on twitter, and podcasters who don’t actually watch Kings matches!!!! Do we see how weird and messy and complicated it is, beyond “hey he’s just a sack of shit who isn’t trying hard enough”. Rob Blake himself has come out and admitted that they didn’t put Dubois in a position to succeed. And absolutely there was effort required on his end — a different player might have sucked it up and adapted to circumstances, a different player might never have needed that extra bit of communication, a straight up better player might have dragged his less skilled lineys up to a higher level. But the problem has always been two-fold: LA was trying to coach and manage a completely different player to the one they had in front of them and expecting good results; and Dubois was unable to keep competing with all he had in the face of that. I think both parties are at fault here. And I think, given the chance and the right circumstances, Dubois can hit 60 points again.

Okay, circling back to the big question of Fit. Will he be able to work with Ovechkin? Hard to think he could fail with one of hockey’s best goal scorers on his wing, if he does get a look at 1C. People who know the Caps better than I do, does this sound workable? Is Dubois going to be too difficult of a nut to crack for your coach? Your locker room?

And, of course, the power play issue. Maybe Dubois learns to be better on the half wall! Idk!! Maybe it was a matter of coaching and he thrives in Washington running your PP1 from there. For my money… I like him better playing net front or bumper. Do the Caps have the bodies to accommodate this? I did ask someone familiar with the Caps PP to explain it to me so I could try and figure this out but ouuuugh. My head is spinning. Someone smarter than me please jump in. I am TIRED . We don’t know what it will look like, what they’re planning to do with Dubois on the power play. You guys probably have a better idea about what’s possible than I do <3

Conclusion?

PLD is fast, big, a passing threat and a formidable net front presence when he’s given the opportunity and playing his A-game. As far as I can tell, his B-game is garbage </3 His poor performance is more complicated than people think and I’m pretty sure only the LA Kings beat reporters + the 12 kings fans on twitter know this. Most of them still dislike PLD anyway bc his low motor. I don’t blame them, I’m just more inclined to be forgiving because I love redemption arcs and I think he’s a good person. i would love to be wrong about his low-effort B-game LMAO but im trying to be realistic here. I want him to fit in and be embraced by the Caps so bad <3 Your coach sounds like he wants to help PLD succeed and is up for the challenge. The vibes from my friends who follow the Caps are always good, I’ve read through various tags and it sounds like a place that will take him in whether he likes it or not. I might be stupid but I believe in him !!! and I’ve laid out all the hockey bullshit for you to the best of my ability. Given all of this… do you think he’ll do well?

[m1ssunderstanding]

Get Back Rewatch 55 Years On: Day Eight

So Ringo walks in first thing in the morning carrying not one, but two drinks. Either he’s being very gentlemanly to MLH (likely) or we’re getting a peek at his alcohol problem (also likely)

Ringo your boooots! Ugh, I want them so bad. And paired with the shiny red shirt and jeans? Like if Dorothy was rodeo royalty.

Paul’s defense-mechanism overdone charm coming in strong today. Playfighting with some random old man, winking at someone else as he walks by, all chipper and bouncy, boyish and cute.

“If it came to a push . . . between Yoko and the Beatles, it’s Yoko, you know . . . ‘Why do you build me up, build me up, buttercup baby, just to let me down?” Linda grabs his hand and he shuts up. Another on my list of covers with *meaning* and if this one isn’t obvious, I don’t know what is. Even Linda was embarrassed for him. But here’s the thing. He’s so sure that if he pushed John to choose between Yoko and the band, that John’d choose Yoko. And he’s probably right there. But what John wants, IMO, whether he knows it or not, is for Paul to push him to choose between Yoko and HIM. Not the band. I really do think that’s what John wants and the fact that Paul’s not doing that confirms John’s belief that Paul doesn’t love him.

“Permanently engaged?” *literally starts to vibrate with anxiety* *whistles to self-soothe*

Okay, but, if I’m remembering correctly, actually in the nagras Paul’s answer to MLH’s “Do you think if you put any pressure on him that he’d go your way a bit more?” is actually “I don’t know, you know . . . can’t be bothered.” Not. “I don’t know, you know . . . and then there were two.” As AKOM said in one of their Get Back episodes, that line is actually a joke not even from that moment. So the tears? Real. The line? No.

Ringo is Not a fan of Paul just casually planning ways to announce the breakup.

Couldn’t even get a picture of Paul jumping out of his chair to talk to John because he moves so fast. Poor baby.

I wonder how early on Linda and Paul developed the “she says what he can’t say while he’s gone” play? You know? I definitely don’t think this early, but this moment does remind me of that little strategy of theirs.

“He’s coming in.” Just now takes his coat off. Meaning he's just now decided to stay? Or he's just now remembered he's still got it on? Either way, Paul's suddenly all easy smiles, relaxed, joking. John’s coming in. What could be wrong?

I was literally so pissed when I first watched this lunchroom conversation. I won’t claim to be a nagras expert or anything, but I was very familiar with the secretly-taped conversation, and it was just so butchered and spliced. Also, even if it was just them talking, it’s still not a private conversation. They’re in a crowded public space. So it’s still coded and veiled and layered etc. MLH you should’ve bugged their coats for the meeting at George’s if you’d wanted a private convo. (obvs I don’t condone that sort of thing don’t come at me)

Paul and John invite Ringo to go see George. Ringo: I was going anyway. Of course you were. Ringo’s the glue, everyone. Lewisohn can think it’s John that everyone had their closest relationship with in the group, but actually, it’s Ringo.

Ringo and Mal’s little two-step. Adorable!

See, and Ringo being the one to suggest they rehearse. It’s not just Paul being bossy all the time, kids, and it’s not just John being a leader all the time, kids. Sometimes it’s Ringo.

“Why don’t I leave my favorite guitar here as a sign?” “Look, look, what greater faith could a man have than to leave his list?” You know, like when that mean teacher makes you give them a shoe or your phone or something when they let you borrow a pencil just to make sure you won’t steal it?