#sorry for no new art i went to the er today

[elfy-art]

baby dragon i drew ages ago

[saitama-division]

ARB Birthday Special: Kureha Koizumi

~~ December 25th ~~

“Most things will be okay eventually, but not everything will be.”

Login Lines:

“I woke up to my phone going off like crazy, it nearly scared the hell out of me, I had thought something was wrong until I went to check it. Turns out it was just everyone wishing me either happy birthday, merry Christmas, or both. It was…nice…I’m still getting used to celebrating my birthday but having so many people wishing me well helps a lot.”

Voice Lines:

“Haah…It’s that time again, I’ve been trying to finish all of my holiday commission before Christmas but I’ve been getting more and more requests, I’m not complaining though, I could really use the money.”

“The snow looks really pretty today, it’s cold which is good. I remember watching the snow fall with…him…he was really pretty too…I miss him…”

“What do 22 year olds even do on their birthday? I don’t drink much and I refuse to go clubbing no matter what Lola says. Honestly, I much rather stay home or spend time with Sayaka, it’s always nice and warm whenever she’s around.”

“Ehhhh?! No way!! I can’t believe the Vox wished me a happy birthday! I mean, I know we’re in the DRB together but I never thought he’d noticed me! Holy shit, holy shit, this is awesome!”

“The art museum in Saitama did something special for me, the recently opened up a new art exhibition in my honor, it had all my favorite paintings and works from my favorite artists there! There was even some of my own works! I was so shocked but also really, really happy!”

“Thank you, Merry Christmas, Sayaka! I hope you liked my gift…Ah, that’s good, that makes me really happy, you’re welcome….Er, mom please, that’s so embarrassing, I’ve been grown up for a long while now besides, you have Yoshiko to dote over, I’m fine!…Mooom! Please! My face feels like it’s about to melt off!”

“Oh sick, mom! This is so cool! Thank you so much, I’m sure Kazu will love it! No, no, it’s fine, I’ve been meaning to get Kazu one of these for a while now but they’re usually so expensive and it looks super cool too, I love it and he’ll definitely love it. Aw, even when you’re looking for cat toys you’re still thinking of me, thank you, mom.”

“Merry Christmas, Lola. I see you’re back from wherever you’ve went, what? Did you not think I’d notice when you’re gone? Tsumugi’s a good actress but I’ve known you long enough to be able to tell when you’re not yourself or if there’s an imposter. I won’t ask for details, I’m just glad you’re back in time for Christmas…is that…is that blood?…Y’know what, nevermind, yes I’m sure now what is it that you got me?”

“Whoa! Are these gemstones? Wait, these are Yule Gemstones! Where the hell did you get these?! And how the hell do you know about them?! Ah…oh yeah, that’s right, I didn’t think you were listening…it’s not witchcraft, it’s Paganism, yes there’s a fucking difference. Shut it, he has nothing to do with my beliefs, still though, thank you for this, it’s really great.”

“Yoshiko! Hey, merry Christmas baby sister! Wow, you got that many presents huh? Well that’s no surprise, you’ve been a good girl all year and Santa knows that and is very happy with you. Hm? You got me something?”

“Awww, Yoshiko, this is so pretty! And well made too! You’re getting better and better each year, I’m seriously impressed, nicely done!”

Sayaka Lines:

“Merry Christmas and Happy Birthday, Sweetie! I really loved your gift, I never knew that I needed something like that, thank you so much! Oh, I can’t believe another year has gone by, I really wish that time would so down for once, my baby is all grown up! *sigh* I guess you’re right but just know that no matter how old you get, you will always be my baby….okay, okay, I’m sorry, here, I got you a present.”

“Ta-daaaa~! I got you a cat tree for Kazu-chan! I know it’s not something that you yourself can use but I figured that since you take such good care of Kazu, you’d want to get him something nice. I was thinking about what you usually wear when choosing which one to pick and I thought this one fit the bill. Oh, I’m glad you like it! Happy Birthday, honey!”

Lola Lines:

“Meeeeeeeerry Birthmas, my darling! Ehhh?? How did you know that I was gone?! Aww, and here I thought I was so clever to fool you…AWWW, Sunshine!! I’m so touched!! What did I do to deserve such a kind and considerate best friend?!…Hm? Oh, shit, I didn’t even notice that, you sure you don’t wanna know? It’s quite the tale? Okay, okay birthday girl, here you go.”

“I remember you telling me about those crystals you’re so interested in, something to do with witchcraft or some shit like that? Is there a difference, sweetheart? *sigh* I swear, sometimes I think I shouldn’t have let you met Lyall, didn’t think it was possible for you to become more goth than you already are, well, you look happy so I guess that’s good, merry Christmas sunshine.”

Bonus! Yoshiko Lines:

“Big sister! Happy Birthday and Merry Christmas! Did you look at the tree?! I got soooo many presents! Hehe, mommy said that too! Yoshiko’s a good girl! Hey, hey! I have a gift for you! Here!”

“Yay! I’m happy big sister likes my present! I made it alllll by myself! Merry Christmas!”

[theamd426]

@dollypartons95theses- REGGIE CINDERELLA AU this sounds amazing!

Sorry for the late relpy. Tumblr wouldn't let me post it on Monday and then my mom got sick and had to go to the ER and that was scary. But here you go!

I have a lot of plans for this fic, and eventually I want to turn it into an actual novel or screenplay. It's a found family Cinderella story that focuses on how hard it is to get out of an abusive household.

The ships are Willex, Rulie, Boggie, and Ray and Willie's mom!

Compared to North Hollywood, Los Feliz was a dream. There were no metal detectors, the class sizes were smaller, he got free one on one music lessons once a week during study hall, the media center had dozens of new computers students could use to get their work done, and Reggie hadn’t heard about any suspicious activity, then again it was the first day. 

Reggie was pretty sure no one was going to want to be his friend, but he was used to that. Who would want to be friends with the poor kid whose entire family abandoned him? 

Reggie’s first four blocks were fine. Los Feliz was on a block schedule, so normally he only had four classes to go to each day, but today he had to go to all eight and go over the syllabus. He did know for sure he would be getting a lot more homework than he would at North Hollywood. But this was worth it. This could be his only chance to get a decent education before Caleb kicks him out on his 18th birthday. He was going to make every second count.

During Lunch, Reggie chose to sit alone in the back of the cafeteria reading Jane Eyre. He had read it over the summer, but he also had a guided reading discussion next Friday, and he needed to make sure he was prepared. He didn’t get very far into reading before he heard a familiar voice.  

“Reggie?” A voice asked across the cafeteria. 

Reggie looked up from his book, and his face immediately paled. Caleb was going to murder him.

“I didn’t know you went here,” Willie said, taking a seat next to Reggie. He pulled his long black hair up into a messy bun and started to squirt ketchup all over his chicken sandwich. 

“I-I got a scholarship,” Reggie said nervously.

“Full ride?” Willie asked, taking a bite out of his chicken sandwich.

Reggie nodded his head slowly and started to put away his book now that he knew Willie was planning on staying for lunch. 

“You’re so lucky,” Willie said with a sigh. “Caleb is being a pompous ass and is insisting he pay my full tuition.”

“Why?” Reggie asked with a small giggle.

“I don’t know,” Willie sighed. “Something about not wanting the press to find out about him not treating all of his kids equally or some bullshit.”

Reggie gave a small smile knowing that Willie hated his dad as much as he did.

“It’s so stupid, though, because my stepdad’s family are like huge donors, and they were going to wave my tuition.”

“Stepdad?” Reggie asked. 

“Yeah, my mom got married over the summer,” he said casually. “My stepdad is great, he’s a photographer, and he has two kids who are not complete assholes like Claire and Crosby.” 

“So why are you and your mom coming over for dinner tonight?”

Willie groaned and put his head down on the table. 

“It’s going to be torture,” he said as he lifted his head slightly. “My mom failed to get full custody of me, so now Friday night dinners are mandatory, and he wants me to come along to any red carpet event he has. Are you working tonight?”

“Yeah, I’m working all night,” Reggie said with a small shrug. “Once I finish at your dad’s, then I’m off to wash dishes all night at the Club. I live a glamorous life.”

“Jesus, that sucks,” Willie said, slightly disappointed. “I got a job at this art supply store downtown, and I swear I barely have enough time to do anything fun.”

“Like vandalism?” Reggie smirked. 

“I was only doing that to piss off Caleb,” he said, rolling his eyes. “He was trying to make me go to Milan with them for fashion week, and you know how much he cares about his pristine image.”

“Yeah… about that, c-can you not tell your dad I go here?” Reggie said, biting his lip. “He thinks I go to some crappy school in North Hollywood, and I don’t want him knowing I transferred.”

“Why don’t you want him to know you're here?” Willie asked, taking a bite of his sandwich.

“Because he doesn’t want his servant getting a high-quality education,” Reggie said sarcastically, hiding the actual truth in his statement.

“You’re not his servant,” he said, rolling his eyes. 

“Have you seen the uniform your dad makes me wear?” Reggie said. 

Willie immediately started to get flashbacks of a 13-year-old Reggie in a black tuxedo with white gloves holding a tray as he served them dinner. He and his mom were a bit shocked when they first spotted him in his new uniform during dinner. They had seen glimpses of him doing dishes or mopping the floor, but it had never been that extreme. 

After that, Hana tried to limit Willie’s contact with Caleb. The 14-year-old already didn’t like spending time with his dad, so they tried to come up with just about any excuse to avoid contact with Caleb.

“Well, if you manage to get off early tonight, I have an extra ticket for the back-to-school fundraiser at Center Park,” he said with a small smile. “There’s going to be live music, rides, and a ton of carnival games. It should be really fun.”

“I’m not getting off early,” Reggie shrugged. “A new band is playing tonight, so I’ll be busy mopping spills and scrubbing dishes.”

“Well, at least you’ll get a decent paycheck,” Willie said with a smile.

Reggie gave a small smile and tried to think of a way out of this situation. 

“There you are,” An afro-Latina girl with big brown eyes and long curly hair said as she took a seat next to Willie. “I thought we were going to eat outside?”

“Sorry,” Willie said with a small smile. “This is my friend, Reggie. He, unfortunately, works for Caleb. Reggie, this is my new sister Julie. Her friend Flynn should be joining us soon.”

Reggie immediately perked up when Willie called him his friend. Willie didn’t actually consider him a friend, right? Probably not; Willie most likely just didn’t want to introduce him as his dad’s servant, that’s all. 

“I’ll text Flynn and have her meet us here,” Julie said, pulling out her phone.

“Perfect,” Willie said with a smile as he popped a tater-tot in his mouth. 

“You guys don’t have to eat with me,” Reggie said nervously. “I’ll be fine if you guys want to eat lunch outside. 

“Don’t worry about it,” Julie said, pulling out a teal bento box. She gave a big smile seeing her sandwich cut up in the shape of a flower. Julie took a bite out of one of the flower’s petals and then frowned when she noticed Reggie wasn’t eating. 

“Aren’t you hungry?” Julie asked. 

“I uh… I had a big breakfast,” Reggie lied as his stomach growled. 

The truth is Caleb started locking the fridge when he wasn’t cooking the family’s individual meals or putting away groceries. He pretty much only got food these days during his shift at work. 

The club was closed last night. 

“Here,” Julie said, pulling a sandwich out of her book bag. “I have dance next period, and my dad packed it for me in case I needed a snack or something.”

“I can’t take that,” Reggie said, pushing the sandwich towards Julie.

“No, really, it’s fine,” Julie said, pushing the sandwich toward him. “Trust me, I’m not going to eat it.”

“It’s not peanut butter, is it?” Reggie asked, biting his lip.

“Sorry,” Julie said, taking the sandwich back. 

“Wait, since when are you allergic to peanuts?” Willie asked. 

“Since I was like four.”

“But you put peanut sauce in the pad thai you make whenever me and my mom come over,” Willie said, kind of shocked. 

“The smell doesn’t cause a reaction,” Reggie said. “As long as I don’t consume peanuts, then I’m fine. Besides, your dad doesn’t like me eating while I’m on the clock.”

“Yeah, well, my dad’s a dick,” he said grumpily. “I don’t know why you work for that douchebag? He treats you like shit.”

Reggie shrugged his shoulders, hoping to change the conversation. What was he supposed to say to that? He couldn’t quit or stop working for Caleb because he knew that the moment he did, he would get kicked out and become homeless or put in the foster care system, where he’d most likely be placed with families who only wanted to use him as a maid or take him in for the paycheck.

[ninjago-forever]

Ninternia: The Ultimate Elemental.

Chapter 1: Aspiring Villains Academy

(Art by @thepolyamorywriter )

Aspiring Villains Academy, or AVA as the students. called it, was a strange school. It was supposed to be the training ground for the next generation of "bad guys" but in reality, It was just a place where the current arsonists, thieves, and crime lords could leave their kids and forget about them. As a result, the students at the boarding school tended to be bratty bullies rather than actual evil masterminds. They were taught more about the comic book idea of evil than true darkness.

Soran was just one of many students who'd never known any home other than the school. He had fair skin, and was fairly skinny. His teeth were in desperate need of a dentist, due to numerous fights and a love of candy. He had wide black eyes and a small nose, making him look younger then the ten years of age he actually was. The only pleasing thing about his appearance was his thick, slightly wavey, golden blond hair. Not that he liked it. It caused him to be a bit of a target since "only heroes have golden hair"

Ducking his head Sonam pulled his hood lower to hide his blond locks. When they'd been asked create their villain uniform in sowing dass made sure to add the hood in the hope less kids would make fun of him. The rest of his outfit consisted of black pants and a long sleeve shirt with a skeleton printed on it, completed by a black cape with the previously mentioned hood. It wasn't the fanciest costume, but he'd been going for the "simplistic" look. He definitely hadn't thrown it together an hour before it was due.

Ducking into Mrs. Numbskull's science class, he breathed sigh of relief as he sat down right before the bell rang. Despite being taught that rules were made to be broken, punishments could be harsh.

"Students," Mrs. Numbskull rasped we have a new student with us today. This is Shadow Kaida."

A girl of about his own age strode into the room right on cue, Like Soran, she the skinny side of the spectrum, but while he was all knees and elbows, Shadow was simply lithe, like a cat. She had a pale, almost white, complexion, which contrasted strikingly with her inky black braid. Under arched eyebrows were two evergreen eyes, flashing dangerously as they scanned the room. To top it all off, she was wearing a loose, all black outfit that he'd never seen the like of before, and he was surrounded by wannabe supervillains. There was was no shortage of weird black outfits at AVA. 

"Why's she wearing pajamas?" Soran whispered to the kid behind him. Next thing he knew was a sharp pain on his temple.

"OW!"he yelped, turning to find Shadow a foot away, her hand raised.

"Sorry did I-," she stopped abruptly when she saw his face, and a flicker of surprise passed over hers.

"What?" Soran spat at her, rubbing his ear.

"N-nothing," she muttered, taking the empty desk in front of him, looking strangely shaken. Soran just slid down his chair pouting.

Just great, the new kids already making fun of me too. Don't they know who I am!? I'll show them one day... I'll show them all... 

A few weeks later, he was a little closer to "showing them all." He had his first henchman, er, henchgirl: Shadow. Soran wasn't entirely sure why she chose to hang out with him, (Maybe because of his natural villain charisma?) but he wasn't complaining. Every evil mastermind needed a second-in-command to boss around and blame when everything went wrong.

"You ready yet?" Shadow said, poking her head into the boys dorm.

"You're not allowed in here!" Soran shouted.

"I go where I want!" Shadow retorted. He slammed the closet door and shoved her out of his way as the left the dorm.

"Do you ever wear anything else?!" he asked her. She was still wearing the same pajama thing she'd worn on her first day. Definitely not proper henchman attire.

Shadow gave him a look, "It's not like you wear anything other than your rip off skeleton costume."

"Hey! I'll have you know that this is a first rate supervillain uniform designed to strike tan in the hearts of-"

"Fashion designers?" she interrupted. He glared at her as they entered the classroom.

"Shadow, Soran, how nice of you to finally join us. I hope your lateness doesn't extend to your homework, otherwise have to send you to detention," Mrs. Numbskull said, looking at them over her glasses. Soran winced as Shadow set a sheaf of papers on the teacher's desk and went to her seat.

Thinking quickly, he said, "I would've had it done if... if I hadn't had to do Shadow's. It was also her fault we were late she was, um, doing her hair."

Mrs. Numbskull glanced at Shadow, who's hair was, as always, in a complicated, but perfect, braid.

"In that case," the teacher said, "detention for both of you. Shadow for not doing her homework and caring about how she looks, and you for helping her."

With a quick nod, Soran went to take his seat. He didn't care that he'd lied to get Shadow in trouble with him, he just didn't want to work alone. Anyways, it's not like she'd care. She didn't care about anything.

Or so he thought, completely missing the betrayed look Shadow shot him.

"Are you gonna help?" Shadow asked, flicking warm, soapy water at him. For detention, she Soran had been sent to clean the dungeons under the school.

"I'm supervising," he said, raising his arm to protect his face from the droplets. She gave him an exasperated look.

"It's your fault I'm even here!" She said.

"So?"

"You could at least run a wet piece of cloth across the wall."

"That's your job. l'm not doing a servant's work. l've got royal blood."

Shadow's face went hard as she wrung out her towel fiercely, and turned back to the wall.

"Forget it," she said. Soran just shrugged, and scooped a handful of suds out of the bucket. Sculpting the white foam into random shapes, he started pacing up and down the corridor. Staying still wasn't one of his strong suits. As time continued to pass, he resorted to studying the walls out of boredom.

"Are you done yet?" he asked.

"No." Shadow said shortly.

"Hey, I found something."

"If you say I missed a spot-"

"No, I actually found something. Take a look," he stepped aside to show her a .....

Brick.

"Soran Zhong, I swear to -"

"Oh shut up," he said and pushed the brick down. A grating sound resonated through the corridor as a section of the wall slid back and to the side to reveal a hidden passage way. Shadow stepped forward, gazing searchingly into the shadowed hall.

"How did you know? The brick didn't look any different than the others," she said.

"It was. There was a carving of the dark part of that one symbol. Y'know the one for dark and light or something?" he said, tracing a circle in the air.

"The yin yang symbol" Shadow said quietly.

"Yeah, that thing," he said, waving her off and heading down the passage, "Coming?"

He heard a sigh accompanied by her characteristic almost silent footsteps. Knowing she was following him, Soran turned his attention back to the passage way It was pretty dark, since the only light came from the torches outside, but he could still see well enough. Not that there was much to see. The floors, walls, and ceiling were made of smooth, grey stone. If you turned it on its side, or even upside down, you wouldn't be able to tell the difference.

Before long the passage opened up into a large, dark room. Three of the four walls were covered in shelves all of them crammed with stuff. Some of the objects were familiar, such as books, helmets, and jewelery, but others were strange, alien. He saw an egg shaped sphere on a pedestal, it's surface hard and opalescent as big as his head; there was another peculiar thing made up of three levels connected be reflective, spiral wound supports, and that was only a few of the weird artifacts.

The fourth wall, the one opposite of the door way, was covered in pictures, weapons, and mirrors. Of the pictures: there were terrifying beasts, dark fortresses, and strangely dressed men and women. Of the weapons: there were males, spears, and staffs, but most of all, there were ornate, jeweled swords and daggers of varying size. As for the mirrors... Soran caught a glimpse of his reflection in one. It was somehow both him and yet not him at the same time. He shivered and moved to a spot where none of the mirrors could reach him.

Suddenly, a flare of light momentarily blinded him as his eyes adjusted from the dark to light. Blinking, he managed to focus on the source of the light: Shadow holding a flaming torch.

"Why'd you light that thing? It wasn't that dark in here," Soran said, then paused as a thought occured to him, "wait a sec... how did you light it? Do you carry around matches or something?"

Ignoring the second and third questions, Shadow said, "I don't know what your mean, it was almost pitch black in here. I had to feel around to find this."

"Hmmm... well anyways, let's look around. There has to be something cool in here," he said, grabbing a twisted sword with a black leather hilt off the wall and swinging it around. Before he could do anything else with it, Shadow took it from him, gave it a practised twirl, then returned it to the wall, leaving Soran staring at her.

"Where'd you learn to do that!?" he said, trying to mimic her move with a large, tightly wound scroll. She watched him with a faintly amused expression.

"I had a life before coming here, and I I think you should put that down. Pretty sure no one's ever cut themselves waving around a scroll but... nothing's impossible," she said.

Distracted by her tease, Soran said, "Very funny. I'm sure plenty of people have gotten paper cuts from this thing. It's ancient."

Shadow chuckled "Usually you talk like a stuck up bully, but every now and then you say something pretty good."

He gave her a blank look. Still laughing, she picked up a scroll of her own, and attacked him with it. Startled, he got hit twice before he raised his scroll in defense, but it wasn't long before his laughter joined hers, even though he was hopelessly out matched. Shadows skill with a sword, er, scroll was so good, she managed to school him at the same time. Soran lost track of time as they continued to spar with the rolls of paper, and it came surprisingly easy to him. He went for a sudden sneak attack, yet she quickly blocked it, and disarmed him.

"Hey! You broke it!" he said as it flew out of his hand, unrolling when it hit the wall.

"It's a scroll windbag, it's supposed to do that, "Shadow replied.

"Oh, uh- right," he muttered, and went to go pick it up. Curiously, he unrolled it the rest of the way to see what was on it. A wide smile came over his face when he saw its contents.

"Hey Shadow, check this out," he said. She walked over and looked over his shoulder.

"Its a map of Ninternia. Why should I care about that?" she asked.

"Because" Soran said, running his hands. across the ancient parchment, over mountains, forests, and rivers, holding all of Ninternia under his hand before he stopped over a strange symbol not far from AVA," it's a treasure map, and with your help, the treasure will be mine."

[jammyness]

This got long, sorry, but I’ve been having this conversation a lot lately and I have a lot to say.

I was incredibly lucky to join that 2010s wave of comics… and it was just dumb luck. Right place, right time. Webcomics back then was a small but supportive community of scrappy DIY-ers. Putting out a comic every week (let alone 3x a week, or daily) was NO small feat on its own and success was never guaranteed. It was hard!! JUST making a comic is hard. We had to rely on each other to navigate setting up our own websites, learning how to make and sell merch, learning how to table at conventions. We had to take our own preorders and update a stupid little thermometer jpg on our website. We linked to each other and helped each other, and (some drama aside) we had each other’s backs.

And it worked! For a time. Nobody was living large then, but some of us could make enough that way to get by. Our communities of readers were (and still are) amazing. Even for a smaller comic like mine, I could get enough reader support to print gorgeous high-quality books and get them in people’s hands. That’s something I’m still incredibly proud of.

When social media came, reader habits changed dramatically. Very few readers would leave their feed. Most readers stopped clicking through to the url (so ad sales imploded), and sometimes the ones that did would just screenshot the punchline and repost it to their own social page without credit. As time went on, fewer and fewer people would share a comic, let alone follow…now most just (maybe) click like and scroll along.

As the barrier to getting your comic on the web got lower, the quality of art got higher - and readers started demanding a much higher standard for an indie webcomic. In addition to this, some artists who gained traction at this time were subject to high levels of writer scrutiny, and that was tough to navigate.

In recent years the costs of shipping merch has gone through the roof (especially outside the US) and even if we could convince someone to buy, they started expecting rock-bottom next-day shipping like you’d get with Amazon. Every single micro service you need to keep a modern webcomic machine running demands its piece of flesh (hosting/domains, shop/payments, newsletters, post scheduling, premium accounts or plugins or whatever blablabla), and there’s less and less flesh to go around these days. You basically need to give it full time hours for the chance of it maybe becoming a part time money. A few new webcomics have found their feet and thrived in the modern era, but no, it’s not the same scene as it was back then. And every service that pops up to help you out has its own rules… rules that are subject to change without notice.

Google Reader was killed in 2013. Then non-chronological algorithms stopped showing us each other’s posts, even if we were following, circa 2015-2016. Then the various social sites stopped being viable at all. These days the mantra is “pivot (to video) or perish”. Or sometimes… just perish.

I’m not blaming the readers for these changes. These behaviours were designed. Webcomics was just one victim, but it’s also happened to a lot of other scenes (music, journalism, blogging...). I’m still learning how to fit into this new paradigm.

***

Yes, in light of these conditions many webcomickers are pushed to quit. But not all. Many of my contemporaries are putting out the best comics of their careers today.

There’s tons of incredible new work that even I’m struggling to keep up with because there are so many amazing comics now.

Some OG webcomickers pivoted into the publishing market which comes with its own challenges: a gruelling schedule, limitations on the stories you can tell, paltry advances and then you still have to do all your own marketing. But they’re still putting out incredible comics, or writing them, or helping them get made. Or hell, printing them. I’m so proud to be part of a community where creatives like these got their start.

Some went into Animation where you live under NDA and big studios can cancel your project on a whim, but they’re still making amazing art.

A couple went to Indie Games, which has to be at least 10x as difficult as webcomics, and they’re making their mark. Others went to a “merch-first” kind of creative practice, and others still got art-related corporate jobs.

And to those of us who have had to tap out or step back, or if you haven’t been able to make it click for whatever combination of reasons… you’re still a part of the community and I’m honoured to have shared a time on the internet with you. There is NO shame in quitting something that no longer resonates with your creative goals, or needing to take different measures to meet your human needs or build the kind of life you want. Stopping under those conditions is not failure. Every single page you put down is a victory.

***

Webcomics is far from a dead scene, it’s just a bit more underground again. You like webcomics? Welcome to the Resistance to the attention-economy. It’s a bit punk to do webcomics again.

We have lots of reasons to be optimistic about the scene:

All the technology we used to make that happen in the 2010s still exists today. RSS still exists. You can still type in a url, or keep a comic links folder on your browser, or use comic rocket to hold your place.

If you wanna make a comic, ComicFury is free. Neocities is free and rarebit is free. Or just put it on social for now! Who cares, just draw comics. Worry about the rest later.

If you really want to you can still get a domain and fairly cheap hosting (though it’s a bit dicier now, and idk who is doing the best WP comics plugin now) but then FileZilla is free, VsCode is free. All in it's probably ~$300 to self-host, unless you got a friend who can hook you up.

Software for making comics has never been more powerful or accessible than it is today. Tablets and scanners are cheaper than ever. Clip’s affordable, Krita is free.

Information on how to set this all up is easier to access than it ever has been

It’s never been easier to access vendors for low-minimum-quantity but high-quality custom products.

Shop services aren’t perfect, but the barrier to entry of selling something to someone online has never been lower, except for maybe when people were willing to use a Paypal html Buy Now button

And I can’t emphasize this enough – there are so so many diverse and unique creatives making their most incredible work RIGHT NOW.

If you want to make comics… if you have a song still in you… don’t give up! Do what you must to stay safe and well. Do what you can to make your best work and share it. You don't "have" to do anything that doesn't feel right to you.

Go make a zine and give it to your friends. Go to a convention and meet a local artist. Go join a local collective, or start one. Print a sticker at home and sell it for a few bucks. Join the cooperative, or a webring or two, or hell just tell another artist you think their work is neat.

Dear reader, if you want to see more webcomics that get to their conclusion? The only thing missing is YOUR. CHOICE. Choose to read webcomics. Most of us put them up for free, we're just delighted for you to read them. Go click around a few links and find something weird and cool. Choose to use RSS, and share the comics you like with your friends, and teach them RSS. Choose to kick us a few bucks when you can, buy our books and give them to your local libraries if you can. Choose to let comics be challenging and weird, choose to let artists be messy humans who are growing and learning just like you are.

The attention-economy game is boring, but this one is still here for those who want to play :)

In your view/experience. is the rate of "incompleteness" among webcomics more or less the nature of online personal projects as a whole? Or is there something specific to webcomics like laboriousness, audience expectations, relative medium infancy or whatnot?

well for one thing webcomics has changed significantly in the last ten years. it used to have a much lower barrier for entry, just get a smackjeeves account or set up a website with a wordpress plugin. starting a webcomic when i started my webcomic vs starting a webcomic now are totally different experiences.

so i can only speak to people who started their webcomics roughly ten years ago. and roughly ten years ago a lot of us were a whole lot younger with a lot more time and energy to spend on a comic for free. this part is probably still somewhat true for new artists.

but then you get older. your ideas change. your skill develops and the old stuff isn't as good. or you don't have as much time, you got a day job. unless you're one of like five people on earth your webcomic is not paying your rent. you need to make money. your shoulder hurts. you're 30 now. you're struggling to make updates on time between whatever else makes you happy and what else you need to do to live. you wrote this story when you were 21, you don't relate to it anymore, you have different ideas, you've grown up, your audience has noticeably dropped off from the peak, social media managing is hard, you have to go to work, you're so tired, all the time.

it's a lot of things.

[helliontherapscallion]

Going Mining (Adrenaline Junkie Part 2)

Part 1     Part 3     Part 4     Part 5     Part 6     Part 7     Part 8     Part 9     Part 10     Part 11     Part 12     Part 13     Part 14     Part 15     Part 16     Part 17

Spotify Playlist (collaborative)

Warnings: swearing, OOC sbi

Word count: 2,582

It had been about a year since you told your family about your tendencies. Since then, you quickly became efficient in the art of redstone wiring. The precious dust became your saving grace in a way, it was because of it that you stopped skydiving. Of course, you missed the feeling you got when you got close to the ground going at mach speed, but they were just intrusive thoughts at this point; you didn’t make any move to fulfill your desire. Redstone wiring took your mind off from it.

Lately, you spent most of your time in the basement where you set up your workshop to craft most of your supplies and write out blueprints. You were working on finding out a way to somehow launch TNT to make igniting it safer. You figured out that you could use a dispenser to plant the TNT, repeaters to prolong the time the TNT gets placed, a button to press to initiate the whole process, and use redstone dust to connect everything together. Now you have a working TNT launcher, but you have to find a block to use as a wall to protect the user from the shockwave of the explosion. You found out the hard way that the shockwave is enough to knock you back a few feet and give you small burns.

You reached over for more iron to make another repeater, but your hand came up empty. You furrowed your brows as your hand patted around the chest before finally looking over to look more closely. The chest was completely empty. You groaned in frustration, you could’ve sworn that you had more iron to work with. Looks like you had to go mining again. Sighing as you checked your redstone dust supplies, you supposed that you could look for more of that too.

Prying your goggles off from your eyes and placing them on your crafting table, you checked the time. It was almost sunset, which means it’s close to dinner time. You walked up the stairs and to the kitchen, where Philza was cooking dinner.

Sitting down at the dinner table, you greeted him. “Hey Dad, what’s for dinner tonight?”

“Steak and baked potatoes. How’s the TNT launcher coming up?”

“It’s coming along. At this point, I just need to figure out what block I could use as a wall to block the shockwave and how many repeaters I need.”

You remembered earlier today when you got the unexpected knockback in your backyard where you were building the launcher. Philza got used to the constant explosions, so he wasn’t phased when the explosion was louder than usual. He just thought you were using more TNT than usual, so he just resumed chopping wood. Soon after the explosion, he heard a thud and a groan coming from you. When he glanced in your direction, he saw you laying in the grass a few feet from the launcher. He chided you for not being careful with how much TNT you used, but he was proud of you for being so innovative. After giving you a health potion for your burns you got, he told you that you were done building for the day.

He hummed thoughtfully as he flipped a steak. “Have you thought about using obsidian? It’s pretty durable and it could withstand quite a bit of damage.”

You slapped a hand to your forehead. Why didn’t you think about using obsidian? Most TNT technicians used obsidian to shield them.

“...No, no I haven’t. You don’t suppose that we have any laying around?”

“I’m sorry hun, but we don’t. I could go mining for some though.”

“No that’s fine, I was actually going to find a cave tomorrow to restock on iron and redstone. I’m running low.”

“If that’s the case, I’ll lend you my diamond pickaxe. The iron pickaxe you have won’t mine through obsidian. Dinner’s almost done, can you go get your brothers?”

“On it!”

You ran up the stairs, hearing the strumming of a guitar growing louder as you approached Wilbur’s room. Knocking loud enough for him to hear over the guitar, the strumming stopped and he called out a “come in”.

Opening the door, you smiled at him. “Hey Wil. Dad wanted me to tell you dinner’s almost ready. That new song sounds great by the way.”

He put his precious guitar back into its case on his bed as he turned around and returned your smile.

“Thanks (y/n). Tell him that I’ll be down in a moment.”

Nodding, you closed his door and went across the hall to Techno’s room. Before you could knock, the door swung open to reveal your oldest brother. 

“I heard you tell Wilbur dinner’s ready. I’ll see you there.”

You stepped aside to let him into the hall and started to walk to Tommy’s room. You swung open his door and chuckled lightly as he jumped.

“Hey gremlin. Dinner’s ready.”

“How come you knock on Wilbur’s and The Blade’s door but not mine? I could’ve been naked!”

“You do the same thing to me. Techno and Wil knock on my door, so I knock on theirs. Now, get down to the dining room before your food gets cold.”

He stood up to his full height and casually walked over to you. In the past year he has grown to be almost 8 inches taller than you and he didn’t show any signs of stopping any time soon. To your surprise, he shoved you to the side and sprinted out of his room.

“LAST ONE TO THE DINING ROOM HAS TO DO THE DISHES TONIGHT!”

“NOT FAIR, YOU GOT A HEAD START.”

You sprinted after him, but he was ahead of you by time you passed your other brother’s rooms. By the time you got to the top of the stairs, he was halfway down them. There was only one way you’d win. You hauled yourself over the railing of the stairs and jumped, extending your wings to slow your descent. You swiftly regained your footing and sprinted towards the kitchen with desperation. You weren’t going to do the dishes when it was Tommy’s turn; it was your night last night. You laughed in an early celebration when you neared the door to the dining room. There was no way Tommy could possibly-

You yelped as you felt your body being pulled back and a slight pain in your wings. Tommy must’ve grabbed your wings. Falling on your ass, you quickly reached to grab Tommy’s ankle to bring him down on the ground with you. He landed on his stomach with a thud as you pulled him back as hard as you could. You crawled towards the dining room door, only to feel Tommy grabbing your wings again to pull you back. Wincing as you felt some feathers being yanked out, you cursed your wings for growing to be almost larger than your body and easy to grab. You slid across the ground as Tommy pulled you back and tried to crawl into the dining room. You reached out with your other wing and started battering his head to disorient him. It worked as he stopped and you felt him trying to swat your wing away so he could see. Making haste, you crawled into the dining room.

“OI THAT’S NOT FAIR. YOU STARTED HITTING ME.”

“All’s fair in love and war, gremlin. Besides, you pulled my wings first, so you technically started it. I wasn’t about to do the dishes for you.”

“I don’t know why you are the one calling me gremlin, you’re short as hell.”

“Oi, 5’2 is average height! You all are just way too tall!”

Despite you and Tommy arguing, you both were giggling and smiling at each other. The rest of your family watched you two in amusement for a couple of minutes before Philza spoke up.

“Alright you two, dinner’s gonna get cold if you keep it up. Tommy, (y/n) won fair and square. You will also pick up the feathers you plucked out after dinner. (Y/n), don’t jump over the railing again. I understand that you can fly but still that’s dangerous.”

You both murmured “yes, Dad” before taking your seats at the table. As the dinner progressed, everyone had small side conversations about how their days were. Dinner went by faster than usual, probably because everyone was tired. 

Tommy grumbled to himself as he picked up the feathers on the ground. Taking pity on him, you picked up everyone’s dishes and took them to the kitchen sink and filled it up with soapy water for Tommy. You washed and dried them by time he got done picking up your feathers. He was an annoying little gremlin, but he was your little annoying gremlin. You loved your little brother.

“...Thanks for helping me. You didn’t have to do the dishes.”

“It’s not a problem, Tommy. You already had to pick up my feathers. Er, sorry for hitting you with my wings, that probably hurt.”

He chuckled, rubbing his head. “It kinda hurt, but I deserved it for pulling out your feathers.”

You moved your wing in front of you to examine it. Only a few secondary feathers were missing, it was probably mostly your semiplume feathers he pulled out. 

“You didn’t do too much damage, no worries. I’m going mining tomorrow, is there anything you need me to pick up?”

His eyes lit up. “If you find a diamond, give it to me. My jukebox broke today.”

“I gotchu. It’s getting pretty late, T. We should go to bed.”

You gestured for Tommy to follow as you started to walk back into the dining room and into the kitchen. You two made comfortable small talk as you walked back to your rooms for the night. After changing into your pajamas, you plopped onto your bed and buried yourself in your sheets. You struggled to cover your wings before giving up and leaving them to droop off the side of your bed. You really needed to ask Philza how he covered his wings, they were larger than yours so he probably had a little technique he uses. 

Having wings kinda sucked sometimes. Besides not being able to cover them with a blanket easily, they didn’t fit on your bed if you wanted to stretch them out to their full length. When you were younger, your wings always fit on your bed and you would always keep them covered. But now with your wingspan being longer than your height, they were a pain to manage, especially at night. You always had to either sleep on your stomach or side and you couldn’t roll over without pulling a muscle in your wing. Because of this, it usually took you a little longer than most to fall asleep.

Your blissful slumber was interrupted by the light peeking in through your curtains. Sitting up, you stretched out your wings, smiling in satisfaction when you heard them crack. You stood up and grabbed your clothes for the day. Since you usually woke up a little earlier than your brothers, you always got first dibs on the shower after Philza. You yawned tiredly as you flicked on the water faucet and stepped into the shower. Now slightly more awake, you stepped out and started to preen your wings. Another downside to having wings is how high maintenance they are. 

After taking care of the rest of your morning routine, you went down to the kitchen where Philza was sitting at the table drinking some coffee looking as dead inside as ever. 

“Mornin’ Dad.”

He grunted in response. He was never a morning person, even after adopting four kids. You walked over to the chest where the food is kept and pulled out some eggs, bread, and beef. Usually, you made breakfast while Philza made dinner. You hummed a small tune as you flipped the eggs and turned over the beef sausages. One by one, your brothers joined Philza at the table and waited while you cooked. 

You grabbed four plates and sets of silverware from the cabinets and put on an appropriate amount of food on each, placing them in front of your siblings and dad. You grabbed your own before joining them at the table. 

“So, I’m going mining today. Is there anything you guys want me to get?”

They all chimed in with their needs. Philza wanted you to grab more iron and diamonds, Techno wanted some gold, Wilbur didn’t ask for anything, and you already knew what Tommy wanted. It sounded easy enough.

While the boys wrapped up breakfast, you excused yourself from the table and went back to your room to grab your satchel, pocket watch, iron pickaxe, and iron sword. Walking back downstairs, Philza gave you the supplies you would need today: a diamond pickaxe and a plethora of torches. “No staying out past sunset. Don’t mine down. Stay aware of your surroundings. If you see a mob, do not try to fight it, just try to run. If you get hurt, come straight home. If you get lost, follow the torches.”

“You worry about us too much.”

He sighed as he pulled you into a hug. “I just want you to be safe, hun.”

You smiled as you hugged him back and wrapped your wings around him. “I know, Dad. I’ll be safe, promise.” 

“You better, or else you’re grounded,” he joked.

You chuckled as you pulled away and said goodbye to your brothers for the day. Heading out into the brisk morning, you took in a deep breath and smiled to yourself. You had a feeling that this mining trip was going to be bountiful. You spread your wings and took off into the sky. 

Flying for a while, you spotted an opening in the ground. Grinning, you gradually landed before walking into the cave.

You spent hours mining precious ores, working your way deeper and deeper into the cave. You still had at least five hours before you had to start heading back to the house, so you thought going deeper wasn’t going to hurt anybody. 

You hummed to yourself as you passed multiple stalagmites. This cave was seemingly never ending, you’d have to mark it on your map so you could come back to it. The mouth of the cave kept getting larger and larger until it melded into a huge, winding cavern. You’ve never been this deep before, so you were excited to explore. Being mindful of placing down torches, you explored the cavern before you came across a strange looking block you’ve never seen before.

It glowed a luminescent green as weird looking projections (tentacles maybe? Was this thing alive?) flailed about before they fell into a relaxed movement and stopped glowing. Reaching out to poke it, you cringed as it felt weirdly moist and it made a slight squelching noise. It flailed about again as it glowed. You saw movement in the corner of your eye and turned to see another one of the blocks doing the same thing. How weird. 

Suddenly, the nearby lights started to flicker on and off, even your torches, as you heard a rhythmic thudding sound bounce off the walls of the cave. The thudding got louder and louder gradually as you frantically looked around for whatever it was and pulled out your sword. Hearing movement from behind you, you turned around only to freeze in fear. 

What the fuck was that?

[sorryjustafangirl]

what home is

a/n: this is my submission for @antoineroussel 's summer fic exchange 2k21! thank you for organizing this all demi. i recieved @timstuetzle and i am so excited to finally share this! im sorry it's so late but i had a lot of fun writing for Tim and i hope i did him justice! i made this a gender neutral reader again, so please enjoy my take on some friends to enemies to lovers :)

pairing: tim stützle x reader

word count: 18k+ (holey moley)

warnings: some angst, set in no covid-universe, a few swears, an odd timeline

disclaimer: this is a work of fiction and real person fiction if you don’t like that, please don’t read! the banner is made by me, with photos found from pinterest and the transparent made by @art-and-the-hockeys (thank you!!!)

The start of the season was your favourite. The chill of the rink, the sound of skate edges on the ice, the smell of skate sharpening- it was all so familiar. As an analyst, the start was the best. There were new lineups, new plays, and a chance to try new things. Considering this was your first year as a real analyst, not just checking over others' work, you were excited. You got to actually help to build a Stanley Cup winning team.

What you didn’t love was how everyone seemed to lose their heads and decide to run around the arena. You’d been looking for the coach of the Ottawa Senators for the past twenty minutes. You’d think the man would be in his office the first day back, but no. He decides to take a stroll to who-knows-where and leaves you to follow invisible breadcrumbs.

Eventually, you found yourself on one of the lower levels. You continued down the hallway, entering an open space with concrete floors. The bustle of the new season was in full swing as you swerved between various people working like gears in a machine. You tried to do your best to stay out of other people’s way but you still ended up walking into a hard surface.

“Oof!” Shit. Hard surfaces don’t usually talk. You looked up at what you ran into and saw two men staring at you. Both were wearing Senators hoodies but one was a taller blond and the other a slightly shorter brunet. The brunet has a backwards snapback on but that wasn't what made you stop in your tracks. It was his eyes. They were soft and welcoming, something like a home cooked meal, but they had a glint of adventure in them.

“Oh my gosh, I am so sorry! I wasn’t really looking where I was going. I am so sorry.” You apologized to the blond you ran into.

“Hey, all good. I’m-”

“Number 7.” You turned toward the brunet. “And...number 18, right?” When they both gave you a weird look, you shrugged. “I’m an analyst here so, uh, you’re just numbers to me.”

“Okay, ouch but you are the reason we’re going to be winning more games this season, so I'll give it to you. I’m Brady, and this is Jimmy.” The blond gestured to himself first, before gesturing beside him.

“It’s Tim, actually.”

You introduced yourself to the two players, before looking around the hallways. “Um, would either of you happen to know where the coach is? I can’t find him,” You held up the file folders in your hands. “I’ve got new numbers for him.”

“Oh yeah he’s probably close to the ice, we’ll show you.” Brady started down a hallway, both you and Tim falling in stride behind him. “So Numbers-”

“-Y/n-” You glared at Brady for the nickname, rolling your eyes as he continued on. From your peripheral vision, you saw the corners of Tim's mouth turn up.

“-If you don’t mind me saying….either you look really good for your age, or you aren’t old enough to be working here,” He continued, giving a glance your way.

You looked down at your shoes and gave a sigh. “I get that a lot, and I am young-er than my colleagues but I assure you, I am qualified to work for this organization.”

“Wasn’t doubting that, just seeing how much I get to tease ya. Jimmy’s the rookie,” He elbowed him and Tim tried to swerve around it, only to bump into a stack of pylons. Brady and you shared a grin at his expense. “So he gets all the teasing. Same for the numbers people. You’re the rookie.” He shrugged

“Well, I’m not actually a rookie anymore. This is my second year here,” You mentioned, looking towards the two guys. Brady looked impressed whereas Tim’s eyes went large and his jaw slack a little.

“How?” He asked, and you laughed. The three of you turned a corner, and you walked slightly faster to talk.

“I graduated high school pretty early. And then took my statistics undergrad at the University of Ottawa. I minored in sports studies and I met your GM at a conference for the department. When he found out I was in Ottawa alone, he kinda took me under his wing, checked in every now and again. When I graduated two years ago, he offered me an analyst position and I was lucky enough to land it. I love working here, even if I’m way younger than everyone else. Last year, I stayed in my office a lot, double checking people’s work but this year, they gave me more responsibility. I’m excited for the challenge.”

“You are going to be great.” Tim said, meeting your eyes, his gaze showing that his comment was genuine. You ducked away from his gaze but muttered a ‘thanks’. The three of you rounded another corner, Brady ducking out to talk to a reporter, but Tim said he’d help you find the coach.

You settled into a comfortable silence as you walked beside each other through the chilled hallways. He abruptly took a left turn, cutting you off and causing you to bump into him. You immediately apologized, this being the second time today you’d run into a hockey player.

“‘S my fault, I’m still getting used to the new arena,” He said, a sheepish smile appearing on his face. He nodded his head down the hallway, as a silent ‘after you’ and you started walking. As you got further down, you realized Tim walked you out to the bench. The light became brighter, the air a little crisper, and the floor turned from a concrete grey to a bright red. Your eyes wandered up, admiring the view from down here. You’d be truthful earlier, you’d only ever visited your office. But from down here, you could see everything- the thousands of seats, the banners hanging from the ceiling, the crystal white ice. You stood close to the wall, as if to try to intimidate a fly on a wall, seeing everything as if you weren’t there. You could feel Tim could up from behind you, letting you take it all in for the first time.

“That’s Coach,” He leaned closer to you as he pointed across the ice towards someone in a tracksuit. You nodded and although Tim dropped his hand, he stayed close to you. The coach eventually noticed the two of you and started to skate over to the bench. Tim cleared his throat and you looked at him.

“I got to- I have to go now, but, um, I’ll see you around?” You nodded to his question, a soft smile on your lips. He rocked back and forth on his heels, as if he knew he had to leave but he kept getting pulled towards you. “Good luck with the season.”

“Good luck with yours too.” At that he turned away from you, and you turned to the coach, pulling out your file folder to talk with him.

***

A week or two later and the start of the season was upon the Canadian Tire Centre. The home opener was in a few days and your week had been hectic, trying to get notes from practices and implement what you saw into your analysis. After a morning full of spreadsheets, you decided to take your lunch break in your sanctuary. Last year, the arena felt too big to stick around in on your lunch break. So you had headed outside, where you discovered a small hiking trail about a ten minute drive from work. It quickly became a place where you went whenever you needed to clear your head. And after the morning you had, it was the perfect place to go, so you hopped in your car and started towards it.

At the top of the hill, you put the car in park, grabbed your lunch bag and started towards your spot. It was past the picnic tables that had a nice view of the suburbs, but it wasn't secluded. Your spot was off the beaten path, but there was a small ledge with a perfect view of the arena, highway, and surrounding green spaces. You turn the corner, ducking under a tree branch, ready to exhale the heck of the morning you had.

But there was already someone sitting in your spot. Their head was down, but you recognized the logo and number 18 on their hoodie. Cautiously, you approached him.

“18...Is it okay if I sit here?” You asked, and his head shot up. He shot you a small smile and quick nod. You sat down, placing your bag in front of you, taking out a granola bar.

“You can call me Tim, you know. That is my name,” You gave him a shy smile and you could feel your cheeks heat up at his comment.

“I didn’t think anyone knew about this place, Tim,” You mentioned quietly. It felt weird, to be honest, to be sharing your spot with someone, but it didn’t feel like he was intruding.

“My city in Germany has a lot of parks. There’s a forest near my house where I’d go when I needed a break. This is the closest I could find near the rink. I hope you don’t mind?”

“Just don’t go telling the whole team about our place,” you winked at him and took a bite of your snack.

“I can keep a secret, don’t worry.” He laughed lightly and sent you a smile.

“I don’t know if you remember me but-”

“You’re the analyst, you graduated super early right? Y/n, yeah?”

“Yeah, that’s me,” You smiled at him. “So, how are you liking Ottawa?”

“It’s alright, I haven’t seen very much of it. The ice is very good. My house is nice.” He shrugged and you gaped at him.

“That’s all you’ve seen? So you haven’t been to Parliament Hill or ByWard market or…?” you trailed off when you saw him biting his bottom lip and slowly shaking his head. “Well, you are missing out, you should go see the city sometime.”

“Do you think you could show me around? You seem to know all the best places,” He offered. You met his eyes and nodded. He dug his phone out of his pocket, passing it over to you. You raised your eyebrows at the gesture but he just pushed his phone closer to you. Silently, you imputed your number, placing a small graph emoji beside your contact name. You handed it back to him and a small smirk graced his face when he saw the emoji, before he pursed his lips at the device. You furrowed your eyebrows.

“Sorry, it’s all good. Thank you. It’s- I have to go back now, but I’ll text you, yeah?” You nodded as he handed back your phone. He walked towards the parking lot, but turned around to wave at you before he disappeared around the bend.

Later that day as you sat in the stands, a clipboard and pen in your hands, you got a text from an unknown number.

Hi

It's 18 :)

You chuckled at his use of his number and texted him back.

i thought you said i could call you tim? :(

also it’s practice?? how are you on your phone?

It starts in a couple minutes

your teammates are already on the ice

Spying on me already??

it’s literally my job to watch you practice

Guess I'll see you in the stands then :)

Oh and I'm free this weekend for that showing of the city, team bonding’s on friday

i’ll check my schedule and get back to you

now get out on the ice or you’re going to be late :)

***

You had checked your schedule, and agreed to meet that Saturday. You said you’d pick him up since you knew more of the city. You didn't want to be late so you arrived five minutes early in front of Tim's place. He walked out in his signature backwards snapback, some curls poking out the front, and a monochromatic beige outfit. Waving animatedly at you, he jogged to the car, his ever present smile on his face.

The twenty minutes ride into the city was quiet yet comfortable. A few words were exchanged about how each other’s day was so far but nothing groundbreaking. The low hum of the engine filled the silence as you drove into the city.

After parking in a Superstore (‘Free parking in downtown Ottawa is hard to come by, Tim. We’re parking in the grocery store parking lot’) and walking a few blocks, you come to the far end of the market. Lined with local businesses and brick streets, it felt homey. Tim smiled as it reminded him of back home.

“So, what are we going to see first? Your school?” He asked as the two of you walked along the streets. You laughed and shook your head.

“Pfft no. It isn’t all that interesting. I figured we’d see some of my favourite places, if that’s okay?” He assured you it was and the two of you continued through the streets, Tim with his head down as you passed people. He wasn't famous just yet, but in Canada you find hockey fans at every corner. Soon, you arrived in a small plaza with coloured picnic tables and muskoka chairs.

“Ta-da!” You gestured to the large block letters that spelled ‘Ottawa’ in the middle of the space. “It’s not much, but you’ve got to be a tourist in your own city at least once right?” He laughed along with you and you got out your phone, ready to take a picture of him so he could send it to his parents. You thought he would want a picture of him but he was quick to insist you had to be in the picture as well.

“I’m sorry, but would you mind taking a picture of us?” You asked one of the girls who were taking turns with the Ottawa sign.

“Oh sure!” You stood beside him, between the two ‘T’s in Ottawa, his arm slung over your shoulders. You smiled and looked up at Tim to see him smiling as well- and not one of those classic boy coy half smiles, a genuine one. She took a few landscape and a few portrait ones before handing your phone back. “You two are such a cute couple!”

Before you could correct the girl, Tim answered for you. “We’re just friends actually.” She apologized profusely before rejoining her group. You shuffled your feet as an awkward silence overcame you for the first time since you’d met. Your body shivered and you promptly changed the subject.

“Hey, you hungry?” He shrugged and nodded. You nodded and led him away from the sign, through a few back alleys lined with a few merchants, home artists and such. You entered a building, bustling with people. It was long and narrow, with brick flooring and merchants on either side of the middle. There were lots of people, ranging from people doing their weekly grocery shopping to tourists looking for souvenirs. You weaved between strollers and friend groups, Tim grabbing your hand to avoid getting lost. He kept his head low, hoping it would disguise him enough. This day was about you and him, not you, him and the hockey world. Eventually, the two of you exited the indoor market and came to a small opening. Instead of staying in the opening, you turned left, tugging Tim across the street to two small shacks, one red and one blue. The red one had a classic fairytale vibe to it, with beige wainscotting, red painted window frames, and topped with a white and light brown canopy over the window. Underneath the canopy, there was a string of small Canadian flags.

“Do you trust me?” He arched one of his eyebrows but nodded. “I’ll be right back.” Confused, Tim stood there as you walked up the window, spending no time looking at the menu as you ordered. He looked above the shack to see in fancy lettering the word BeaverTails. When you came back, you were holding two paper containers and had a smile on your face. He looked at the sign and then back to the bags in your hands.

“A beaver’s… tail?” You laughed at him and handed him his BeaverTail.

“It’s not actually a beaver’s tail. It’s just a fried pastry that looks like one. They come in lots of flavours but I got you the best one, cinnamon sugar.” You could tell he was hesitant but bit into his and you took a bite of your own.

Almost instantly, he groaned. “Do you take every guy here? Wow. Oh my god,” He got cinnamon smeared over his chin and you laughed as he tried to wipe it off while holding his pastry.

“Hilarious Tim, but I’ll have you know you’re like my only friend here. So… no I don’t take anyone here.” He scoffed and you raised your eyebrows.

“You’re joking. How do you not have other friends? You’re great,”

“I started university as a 16 year math major. It’s not a surprise people didn’t want to talk to me. But it’s okay. I’m used to it by now.”

“Don’t you have people from home come and visit?”

You scoffed. “I don’t really get along with my mum. We moved around a lot when I was younger and I always sorta resented her for not seeing how it affected me. And then, when I got accepted to school out here, she sold the house and started travelling. Last I talked to her, she was in Tahiti.” He raised his eyebrows.

“What about your dad? Or brothers or sisters?” You swallowed your piece of BeaverTail before answering him.

“I have an older sister, Dani. But she’s eight years older than me, so we're not the closest. She checks in every week or so because she knows my mum doesn't. She’s never come out to visit though, she runs her own business back in Seattle.”

“It must be nice to have someone though. Especially when you were growing up. What about your dad?”

“I don’t- I don’t talk about my dad.” You picked at the pastry before changing the topic. “C’mon, you have to see this place.” You gestured to a side street and the two of you made your way towards your favourite destination. You exited beside a taller building and you pressed the button to allow the two of you to cross the street. As you were waiting for the light to turn, you turned to Tim.

“So, I’m guessing you don’t have any siblings then?”

“No, but the guys at the rink were like my brothers so it wasn’t bad.” The light turned red, and the ‘walk’ light turned on. You made your way across, staying close to each other as people walked both ways.

“Hockey tends to do that,”

“Is that why you picked to work in hockey?”

You glared at him as you made it across the street. “That’s personal.”

“We’re friends, aren’t we? Friends share personal stuff.”

“That’s… it’s just different.” You shook your head and lowered the volume of your voice. “Besides, we’re here.” The two of you had stopped in front of some shallow steps that led to a tall archway, with black statues underneath and on top of the arch. It had some engravings on it, both small and large letters. From where they were standing, Tim could make out some numbers, but not well enough to understand the significance. Behind the monument and slightly to the right was the green tipped roof and gothic architecture of the Parliament building.

“What is this place?” He tilted his head as he looked at the arch in the middle of the square. To him, it wasn’t anything special, perhaps another statue of one of the colonizers of the country.

“It’s Canada’s war memorial.” You whispered, and he nodded, clasping his hands in front of his body and lowering his head. “When I was going to school, I’d come here at least once a week.”

His head stayed where it was but he raised his eyes to meet yours. “Why?”

“I know it’s not exactly everyone’s favourite place...because I know so many people died for the country, but for me, it’s a place of silence. Of reflection. It reminds me to be grateful for everything I have. Some days school would be really bad, so this place was perfect to sit and remember that life isn’t bad at all. Not when I was in a safe country, not when I had an education, not when I had a warm house to go back to.”

He nodded. “That seems...perfect. Some days are too loud, there’s too many people saying stuff. I get that.” His voice was quiet as well, as he lifted his head to focus on the stonework and engravings. The two of you stood in silence in front of the memorial for a few minutes more before you tugged on his arm.

“See that building?” You leaned in close to him, your finger extending to point at a building in the distance, a little taller than the ones around it. “That’s the university’s mathematics and physics department. I had most of my classes in that building.” He nodded, leaning in closer to you, your heads almost touching. You lowered your hand and nodded with your head towards the way you came.

“C’mon, we’re not done yet. You’ve got to see the Parliament building.” He shoved his hands in his pockets and headed left towards it. You quickly grabbed his hand and pulled him right. “I’m the tour guide, remember? Trust me, there’s a better view.” You dropped his hand as he started to walk in time with you but you had to shove it in your pocket to replace the heat his hands gave you.

A quick ten minutes walk later and you stood atop a hill overlooking the river. It was a large park with benches and an eccentric art installation in the corner. You walked close to the peak of the hill and stopped, breathing in the fresh air.

“There is Canada’s capital building. It’s nicer to see it from here than from the front where there’s a bunch of tourists. Besides, from here, you get to see more of the architecture.” The building was across the river, its massiveness more pronounced from your viewpoint. There was a dome nearest the river that was covered in flying buttresses, each support beam having intricate details that stood out. The clock tower and green tinted roof completed the gothic look.

“This view is better. Quieter. It reminds me more of home,” You bump your shoulder against his lightly.

“Glad you like it.” The two of you stood in silence until Tim shivered, at which case you decided you should start heading back. If the hockey player was cold, it was cold enough for you too.

The walk and drive back was uneventful, aside from the two of you passing jokes back and forth. When it came to drop him off, he unbuckled his seatbelt but didn’t make an effort to leave the vehicle.

“How much for our snack? I’ll pay you back,”

You waved him off. “It was my treat, don’t worry about it.” He pursed his lips, then shook it. He pulled out his phone from his pocket. A few seconds later, your phone dinged. You glared at him as you opened the text to see an e-transfer. Before you could protest, he cut you off.

“You never said I couldn’t pay for your gas," He laughed, and despite your annoyance at the loophole, you found yourself laughing along with him. He had that effect on you; he seemed to be able to ease any tension you held. “I had a good time today. Maybe we could meet again sometime?”

“I’d like that. I’ll see you at the rink?” He nodded before getting out of your car, waving like he did that morning as you drove off to your place. When you arrived home, you saw a new text from him.

Can you send those pictures you took today?

You tried to suppress a smile, sending them over to which he responded with a ‘Thank youuuu’. You set your phone on your nightstand and turned off the light. Despite your efforts, you fell asleep with a smile on your face from a perfect day with a great person.

***

“Hey, Numbers!” You stopped in your tracks and turned around to see Brady sticking his head out of the dressing room. He had taken a liking to calling you that, especially as you had started hanging around the house more. It was nice, movie nights and sometimes you’d take a pre-game nap with Tim, you had even stayed for lunch at Tim’s request. At this point, it wasn’t anything out of the ordinary for Brady to shout the nickname from anywhere. Practice had ended and you had given your notes to the coach about what to focus on for the Toronto game. “You didn’t happen to see Jimmy, did you?” When you shook your head, his face scrunched into a small frown.

“Where’d he go? Didn’t media like just end?”

He shrugged. “He didn’t even bother to change from media, he just stalked out. He didn’t say anything to any of the guys, so I thought you might’ve seen him.”

“I’ll keep a lookout for him,” You told Brady before he returned to finish dressing and you returned to your office. But even after you’d settled back into your work, there was a feeling in your stomach you couldn’t quite place. Sending a quick text off to Tim, asking where he was, you dove back into work. But it only took five minutes before you were checking your phone, seeing if he’d read the text or responded. When neither happened, you gave him a call. It sent you straight to voicemail and you hung up before you could leave a message. The feeling in your stomach grew and you packed up your bag, knowing no more work would get done tonight. It wasn’t like Tim to sulk or get in his head; he was a generally happy guy. Something must have set him off for him to be acting this way -- even with you. And if it was something this big, there was only one spot he would’ve gone.

“Brady said you stalked out of media. Figured I’d find you here.” He turned around at the sound of your voice, his shoulders dropping a little. He shrugged, which you took as your cue to take a seat beside him at your lookout space. The sun was setting, the golden hour light reflecting on his stress lines, and the sky was littered with wispy clouds.

Your hands were in the pockets of your hoodie, your legs tucked together. Despite being here for close to six years, the Canadian chill always surprised you. You sat with your shoulder pressed to his, a silent symbol of you being there for him. With his head down, he mumbled something too quiet for you to hear, so you leaned your head down to hear him better. At your movement, he huffed and lifted his head.

“I’m supposed… They wanted me to come and make a difference and to help win games. But I’m not helping! I’m supposed to be putting up points and helping win games, but we’re still losing! Like, why do I suck?”

Your chest got tight at his words. “Tim…”

“You can’t deny it, the numbers say we’re losing.”

“Losing doesn’t mean you aren’t producing. This is your first year in the NHL, you wouldn’t be here if they didn’t think you were worth it. Hockey is a team sport, it isn’t just your job to win the game.”

“But they wouldn’t have gotten me right out of the World Juniors if they didn’t need me to start making an impact right away! They were counting on me. And I’m not living up to it….”

“You are nineteen years old. Nineteen. The five other rookies ahead of you in points are all at least two years older than you. Let that sink in. You have so many years ahead of you. And secondly, no one here is expecting you to turn this team around. McDavid’s first year he didn’t turn the team around. And sure, yeah, the next year, the Oilers had more success but guess what? They missed the playoffs the next three years. Hockey is a team sport, one person, not even McDavid, can completely turn a team around. No one is expecting you to turn this team around in one season. This isn’t on you.”

“But the numbers…”

“Are you going to trust the analyst on the numbers or the assholes on Twitter?” He glared at you but let you continue on. “If you really want to talk numbers, we aren’t last in the league anymore. We’ve beat the top team in the division a couple times now. You’re putting up points, you’re helping us win. Cut yourself some slack. You’re nineteen and living in a new country. This team isn’t expecting you to be Ottawa’s saviour, okay?”

“There’s pressure to be better though! Everywhere I go, I just see how I should be doing more, how if I don’t produce more, I’m going to be a draft bust. I’m the young guy, I’m supposed to be the new blood and be able to make a difference. I feel like I’m letting everyone down.” His words lingered in the sunset glow, a contrast to the darkness he was feeling. You fell silent at his outburst, the air feeling too quiet, even with his heavy breathing. “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to take it out on you.”

You ignored his apology, knowing he would never intentionally hurt you. “I graduated with a 3.8 GPA. I didn’t have enough job experience but my grades were one of the only reasons I was able to get hired so young. My first year, all I did was double check other people’s stats and predictions, and it was okay. No one expected much out of me because I was young and they didn’t really give me any responsibilities. But this year… they’re looking to me more. Teams with more than two analysts are more likely to produce teams that make the playoffs. I’m number three; I should be helping make a better team. But I’m not. I’m not getting the numbers we need or the stats we need. I know more updated methods and technologies but...it’s just not working. I’m not finding solutions to problems that this team has had for years. And the board and my colleagues see that. I know I shouldn’t worry about them firing me, but I still do. I mean, I’m not producing, why would they keep me around? This wasn’t what they wanted when they gave me the job.”

“They won’t fire you, you’re doing your best. And you’re young, you graduated early. They have to give you a chance to prove yourself in the workplace before they fire you.”

“You wanna take your own advice?” He flushed at your words, but you smiled. “Thanks, though.” He nodded and looked out over the suburbs surrounding the arena.

“The pressure in this league sucks.” He said and you leaned your head on his shoulder.

“Yeah. It does. But we’ll get through it right?”

“We’ll figure something out. Together.” He placed his hand on your thigh and the two of you looked out at the sunset, his touch lingering on your body until the sun disappeared behind the horizon. Silently, he helped you to your feet, and walked you to your car, making sure you got in okay, before he got into his car. On the drive home, your chest felt lighter from the conversation.

***

The final buzzer rang, signalling a 4-2 win for the Senators. You smiled at the scoreboard and gathered your papers. The game was nothing spectacular, but for you, it was a career defining game. Some of the lines you'd suggested were risky, but you had the numbers to back it up, and it worked. It worked. The conversation with Tim earlier last week helped with your confidence to take risks in terms of your analytic advice.

You went back to your office after the game, wanting to type up a report of how you impacted tonight's outcome. If it worked this time, who's to say it couldn't work again? But in a higher stakes game? You felt like you were finally contributing to the team, and damn, it felt good.

Your office was barely even that. It was small, but you had a desk, a window, and your name on the door. It was enough for your first major gig. You'd made it a little homey-er with a small succulent and some motivational quotes. You opened up your laptop and began to type up a document report. The words flowed from your fingers and you used the numbers you counted from the box to back up your findings. Time seemed to stand still as you typed, the document becoming longer and longer.

A knock broke your train of thought and you looked up to see Tim poking his head through your office door. He had a shy smile on your face and you shook the writing haze out of your eyes.

"Hey! Come on in," He nodded, closing the door behind him before leaning against the wall. "You played a good game." His cheeks flushed and he lifted his hat, running his fingers through his hair.

"Thanks, thank you. Anyway, did you eat yet?"

"I mean, I had an iced coffee before the game and a granola bar during the second period. So yeah?" Immediately he started shaking his head and he pushed himself away from the wall. You open your hands as if to say 'what’?" and he outstretched his hand to you.

"Coffee and a granola bar isn't a meal. Let's go get some real food, I'm hungry." He made a grabby hand with his outstretched hand and you sighed.

"I have to finish my report, I can't." He sighed, pushed your laptop shut, and grabbed your hand.

"That can wait. Besides, the boys went out and I need a ride home." He flashed you a shy smile and you rolled your eyes, before picking up your bag and leaving your office with him. You tried not to notice how Tim was still holding onto your hand, but as he tugged you along to a quiet area of the concourse, it was difficult to do. He stopped at a small table with two bar stools. He let go of your hand, cold enveloping you, and you hung your bag on the back of the chair. As you hopped onto the chair, he stayed standing, tapping his fingers on the tabletop.

“What do you want to eat?" When you shook your head again, he pulled out his puppy dog eyes. "Tim, seriously, I'm fine."

"I'm getting some fries and you will eat some of them. Deal?" Your face pulled into a frown and he repeated himself. "Deal?"

"Yes, Mom, deal."

He gave himself a self assured smile. "Great. I'll be right back."

A few minutes later he came back with a container of fries and two small containers. He set them down in front of you before he got seated. A closer look at the container showed one was ketchup and the other was…

"Is this mayo?" He picked up a fry, dipped it in the white substance, and popped it into his mouth. With his mouth full, he nodded. "You eat your fries with mayonnaise?"

"You don't?"

"No!" You shook your head. He took another fry, dipped it again, and ate it.

"You have to try it, it's good!"

“No, no thank you. You can keep your weird German eating habits to yourself." You laughed, dipping a fry in ketchup before eating it.

"Nope, you've got to try one. Please?" You scrunched up your nose, and he held out a white coated french fry. You gave in, taking it from his hands and shoving it in your mouth. You chewed it slowly, contemplating the taste.

"It's...not horrible." He raised his eyebrows at you. "Fine, it's alright." He gave you another look, a small smile forming on his face despite his efforts to hide it. "Okay, okay, I like it. Happy?" He let out a loud laugh.

"Yes! I knew you'd like it!" You laughed a little with him, before dipping another fry in the mayo and popped it in your mouth. The two of you ate in silence, the sounds of the zamboni in the background.

"Why didn't you go out with the guys? You had a good game,"

He shrugged. "I wanted something quieter. Besides, I was hungry and the guys wanted to go out to a bar. Bar food isn't exactly a meal."

"Neither is french fries,"

"Well, maybe, you're just better company than the guys."

"Damn right, I am." You smiled, tapped his fry with yours in a makeshift sort of 'cheers' way. When the two of you had finished your snack, you picked up the container and threw it in the compost bin near the table. You grabbed your bag off the chair, holding up your car keys. He got up off the table, joining you in a slow walk towards the parking lot.

You wished the custodians a good night as the two of you left the arena, the street lights in the parking lot illuminating the way to your car. Silently, you unlocked the car and you both got in. You gave him your phone, telling him to pick any playlist he wanted while you started the car. He picked one of your favourite playlists, a mix of relaxing beats and soft music, which was perfect for late night drives.

"You should have some lo-fi on here, it's a lot like this. I think you'd like it," he said, after you had merged onto the highway.

"Yeah?" He only nodded, allowing a comfortable silence to come back to the car. The rest of the drive was easy, the road being mostly empty and the music filling the car. He gave you quiet directions to the house, more points and here's than actual directions but you were able to find it.

"Thank you for the ride," He said, once you’d put the car in park.

"Thanks for sharing your food with me,” He shook his head and smiled at you, the corners of his eyes crinkling.

“I’ll always share with you.” You caught his gaze, his brown eyes filled with sincerity. You could feel your cheeks flush and you waved him out of your car.

“I gotta get home too, you know.” You joked and he got out, popping his head back into the doorway for a second.

“Text me when you get home, yeah?” You murmured an ‘of course’ and he nodded, closing the car door and making his way to his front door. You waited until he entered the house before you drove away, turning on a lo-fi playlist from Spotify.

***

“Your turn to pick the movie, but no subtitles please, I’m too lazy to read today.” You handed Tim the remote for his TV while you pulled the blanket closer to your chin. The October chill had settled in his apartment and you hadn’t dressed for his room to feel like the arena.

“Jimmy!” Someone called from the kitchen and a loud clang dissolved any annoyance Tim had from his roommate interrupting his time with you. He rushed to the kitchen and you followed behind shyly. There were platters across the kitchen island, each with a different coloured dish. It looked like there was a salad, a couple casserole dishes, and some plates of desserts. A taller brunette was standing in the kitchen, frantically gesturing between Tim and a pot on the stove. There was a lid on the ground, a splatter of pinkish red liquid surrounding it. You entered the kitchen, picked up the lid before placing it in the sink. The other guy was still explaining to Tim what exactly he wanted to do, even though his head was tilted like a confused puppy. You brushing him aside llightly, grabbing the spoon Tim was holding to stir the pinkish red liquid on the stove. You sent him a small smile back over your shoulder and all you could see in his eyes was relief.

“Thank you!” The oven beeped and you noticed an embroidered #9 on the roommate's Senator sweats. You moved to the side to allow him to get another baking dish from the oven. He placed it on the stovetop and took off his oven mitts. “Thank you for doing that. I didn’t think he’d be that helpless in the kitchen.”

“I’m surprised anyone in this house can actually cook,” You laughed. The liquid that smelled of oranges and cranberries started to boil, so you reduced the heat and continued to stir it. You look at the baking dish that he brought out of the oven. “Are those brussel sprouts?”

“Yeah! My mom’s recipe; they’re delicious! Do you like them?”

“They’re one of my favourites! My recipe uses bacon though.”

“Oh nice! You’ll have to share it with me, I’d love to try it. And, sorry, I didn’t introduce myself. I’m Josh,”

“I know.” He shot you a look and you backtracked. “I-Sorry, it’s just-I actually work with you? I’m in the analytics department, so I know your jersey number and I saw it on your sweats and put two and two together. I’m not being a creep, I’m sorry.” The sound of laughter behind you made you blush.

“Not being a creep my ass. They did the same thing when me and Jimmy ran into them for the first time!” Brady commented, walking into the kitchen. He was wearing a nice pair of dress pants and a button up shirt. You shook your head before nodding towards his attire.

“Going somewhere nice?” He looked down at his outfit and shook his head.

“It’s Thanksgiving? It’s why they gave us the day off?” That...that would explain the amount of food in the kitchen. No matter how many years you lived here, you’d always forgotten that Canadian Thanksgiving was a whole month earlier. You placed the stir spoon on a plate next to the pot and wiped your hands on your pants.

“Oh! Um, right, well, uh in that case, I should be, I should get going. You guys must have plans. Nice to meet you Josh.” You made your way out of the kitchen to the foyer where your coat and shoes were without so much as a goodbye to the guys. You could hear Tim coming after you, his steps lighter and more graceful than Brady or Josh’s. But, he didn’t make a move to do anything except stare at you as you got ready to leave. It wasn’t until you were getting ready to put on your shoes that he spoke.

“You should just stay. We’ve got lots of food.”

“Oh, I don’t want to intrude…”

“Brady’s bringing his girlfriend and a couple other of the guys are coming over. You wouldn’t be intruding.”

“I really shouldn’t…”

“You should. Why won’t you stay?”

“I don’t know if you have this holiday in Germany, but Thanksgiving is a family thing, Tim.” You sighed. “Besides, shouldn’t I have brought something? Am I even dressed okay?” You looked down at your outfit - a simple pair of jeans and one of your comfiest graphic tees. He shrugged.

“Don’t worry about that. You look great, just enjoy the night with me. Stay? Please? C’mon schatz, you’re like my family to me.” The two of you maintained eye contact until you broke it and took off your coat. You could see Tim’s smile widen and when it came to walking back into the kitchen, he extended his arm. You took it and the two of you made your way back towards what would end up being a wonderful evening full of laughs and smiles shared between friends.

***

You had come over for a trashy reality TV binge after a particularly hard day at work. None of the numbers were adding up the way you needed them to and your laptop was having a hissy-fit all day. Soon enough, you called it a day and texted Tim, telling him you’d be over in twenty minutes. He greeted you at the door with your favourite chocolate treat, a box of Timbits, and “there’s popcorn in the microwave right now, it’s almost done”. You could’ve melted right on the spot. Instead, you made your way over to the couch where you collapsed and pulled the blanket he had already set out for you up to your chin. You breathed in the smells of pine and sock tape and felt your body relax. HGTV played in the background while you waited for him to bring the popcorn out when his phone dinged.

“Tim, your phone!” You yelled to him from across the living room.

“Who is it?” You sighed and moved from your comfortable spot on the couch to check his messages. You turned on the phone to see a message from Josh, saying he’s five minutes away. You went to lock the phone, seeing the unimportance of the message but something caught your eye. You swiped to clear the notification and his background came into focus. It was the two of you standing in front of the Ottawa sign at ByWard market, his arm around your shoulders and a grin on both your faces.

“Who was it?” He entered the room as he repeated his question.

“Just Josh,” you whispered, turning around to face him holding up his phone. “Am I your lock screen?” He blushes, opening his mouth stammering for words. “I am! I knew I was important to you.” You poked him a couple times for an extra tease when his face settled into a small pout and he retaliated by tickling you. You shrieked and hopped up from the couch, laughing as he chased you around the house.

“Stop doing that!” He laughed as you escaped his clutches once more. Your laugh echoed through the house as he tried again to try to tickle you, but you grabbed Josh and used him as a human shield.

“No fair schatz,” He relented his tickling and sat on the couch. You took a seat beside him, but kept your distance in case he decided to start his torture again.

“You know, you’ve never told me what that means,” You look over to him and he’s already scratching the back of his neck.

“What what means?”

“That thing you keep calling me. Like shats?”

Josh laughed and spoke up. “It means swe-”

“Friend! It means friend!” Tim interrupted loudly, his cheeks rosy. “It means friend.” You raised your eyebrows at his outburst and his explanation.

“You call your friends, ‘friend’?”

He scratched at his jaw and slowly nodded. “In my city, it’s common for friends to just call each other ‘friend’. It’s normal,” You managed out a ‘okay’ between breathy laughs, wondering why he was being so strange about it. It was just a nickname. But the blush in his cheeks didn’t diminish until well after Josh left the room, muttering under his breath about ‘idiots’, and you couldn’t help but think that maybe it meant more than Tim was letting on.

***

“Are you going to be at the gala on Saturday?” Tim asked you as the two of you ate (lunch for you, pre-practice snack for him) on the concourse. It was your first concourse snack since the All-Star break and you had missed him. WhatsApp messages and Instagram messages just weren’t the same as being in his presence. You finished your bite, and shook your head.

“It’s only for players isn’t it?”

“Would you want to come with me?”

“Like...as a date?” You looked up at him, your eyes wide. Maybe this was the clue you were waiting for.

“As friends?” Your eyes darted down onto the counter and Tim took that as a sign you didn’t want to go with him. “There’ll be puppies there.”

“Well,” you swallowed the lump in your throat, “If there’s going to be puppies, I need no more convincing.” You forced a smile onto your face and he returned the sentiment, before finishing up the food. You wished him good luck before the game, and left to go the the box.

Soon enough, it was Saturday night and you found yourself in front of the Fairmont Château. You gazed up at the stone walls and admired how the orange glow from the lights gave it such a warm feeling, compared to the shivers that were going up and down your back. You had found time to go and get a fancy outfit for the night, its gold fabric being a perfect fit on your body. Tim had told you he’d meet you inside, so walked upt the steps alone, avoiding the other guests in fancy attire. They looked like they belonged here. You couldn't relate. The front entrance of the hotel was exactly as you expected -- it had marble floors, crown moldings, and a domed ceiling. You followed the chatter to one of the conference rooms, someone offering to check your coat. With just your clutch, you entered the ballroom with the sound of your shoes following you.

You looked around to try to find Tim among the executives, easily spotting him when you heard Brady’s booming laugh in the corner. You made your way over to the group, including Brady, Josh, Drake, Tim and some respective dates. Josh waved at you and Tim turned around to see you walking towards him.

Tim stood there, memorized by the way the Senators gold fabric hugged your figure and the way your eyes had lit up when you saw one of the puppies. You came over to him, brushing his arm before joining the group. Hellos were thrown your way and it wasn’t long before everyone went back to their conversations and you were able to speak with Tim.

“You look handsome." You handed him your clutch, which he held unashamedly, as you adjusted his gold bowtie, letting your hands linger on the front of his chest. You gulped before snapping out of your trance and took your clutch back from him.

“Um, uh, thanks. You look...good too,” His voice was breathy and his cheeks had flushed a little. You smiled at him, before noticing another golden retriever stumbling around next to its trainer and darting off to pet it. Tim watched you go and he stood back, blown away by the way his heart was beating faster and how he couldn’t seem to get enough air into his lungs.

“You finally figured it out, huh?” He turned around at Drake’s voice. He had recognized the look on Tim’s face, it was the same one he had when he looked at his partner. Tim furrowed his eyebrows.

“Figured what out?”

Drake scoffed and took a gulp of his drink. “God, you already know and you’re denying it. You’re in love with them.” Tim shook his head, waving off the thought. You were his best friend, nothing more. “C’mon man, you can keep lying to yourself but it’s obvious to everyone else.” He was then swept away by a reporter, leaving Tim to his thoughts.

He wasn’t in love with you. He was sure of it. You were his best friend, his safe spot. It’s not like when he sees you his heart beats faster or he notices how your eyes crinkle when you laugh or when the sun hits your skin just right, you look like an angel. It’s not like the more he looks at your lips the more he wants to know if they taste like your sweet honey lip chap. It’s not like your smile could cure his darkest days or that he could see himself introducing you to his family as his partner.

Except it was like that.

Tim saw all of that with you. He saw more galas, more late night drives, lazy Sunday mornings. He wanted to see you after his games, not in your office, but in the tunnel where you’d be wearing his jersey and a special jean jacket. He wanted to take you home to meet his family, his hometown friends. He wanted to show you all the places that were special to him, just as you showed his places special to you. He wanted to meet Dani and see if she thought he was good enough to be your partner. As he stared at you petting the small golden pup, he realized Drake was right. He was in love with you.

He was in love with his best friend.

Fuck, what was he supposed to do now?

You didn’t give him too much time to think about that as you came up behind him, telling him everything about the golden retriever you just met. He smiled at you, and motioned with his head to find your seats as dinner was going to be served soon. You sat next to him, your leg brushing against his under the table. Even from that, he got shocks-- tiny lightning bolts trailing up his body. It was like every sense was heightened after he came to the realization that he loved you. How am I supposed to even act around them? He thought.

The meal passed without issue and while Tim went about schmoozing all the executives and donors, you stick with the other halves. You had already met Emma, Brady’s partner, and she introduced you to Dakota, Briar, and Marissa (she had also told you who they came with but that information had not stuck with you).

“Sooo… Emma, how’s the wedding planning going?” Briar asked. She had gotten engaged over the holiday break. She laughed and waved off the question.

“Oh, not at all! We’re just enjoying being engaged, it’s like the honeymoon phase all over again,”

“Just like you and Tim,” Dakota nudged you and wiggled her eyebrows. You coughed on your drink at her statement.

“What?” You managed to sputter. Emma looked uncomfortable but didn’t say anything. “What do you mean, like me and Tim?”

“Oh come on, it’s so obvious the two of you are in your honeymoon phase! Don’t be ashamed of it, you’re such a cute couple!”

“Ooh yes!! How his bowtie matched your outfit is like goals, I wish my boyfriend did that with me,” Marissa mentioned. Your voice felt caught in your throat and you were instantly aware of the breeze in the room and the sweat on the back of your neck.

“We’re just friends,” Your voice was small.

“I’ll believe that when pigs fly, babe. Oh, look, here comes your man.” Dakota winked at you before turning into her own date. You turn around quickly to see him walking over to you, laughing with Brady and Josh. Normally, the sight of him would calm you down. He was such a genuine person and you appreciated how you never had to shrink yourself to fit in with him. But with the girls’ comments, you suddenly couldn’t be around him. When his hand met the small of your back, you flinched before relaxing into his touch. It was just Tim, your Tim. It’s not a big deal unless you make it a big deal.

“Timmy, I was just telling Y/n what a cute couple you two are!”

“Well, what do they say? Oh right, they complete me,” He sent you a wink and pulled you closer to his side. You went stiff in his hold, and he noticed, instantly letting you out of his grip. You muttered out an excuse about work and said quick goodbyes to the group before you were out of the gala as fast as your shoes could allow. Your cheeks were hot with...embarrassment? No, that wasn’t quite it. But they were hot, and the room felt small with Dakota’s teasing so just needed to escape. You needed to have fresh air in your lungs, needed to feel the cool Ottawa air on your arms. Needed to be somewhere other than beside him and his light teasing that left your stomach in knots.

But you hadn't even reached the front door and grabbed your coat from the coat check when Tim caught up to you. He watched you try to put on your coat, as he rocked back and forth on his heels like that first day you met.

“Do you… do you actually have work in the morning or were you just saying that?” You looked up and met his eyes, the orbs holding a certain vulnerability you hadn’t seen before.

“I got called at the last minute. I forgot to tell you, Jody’s kid got sick so I’m covering the game on Sunday but I haven’t prepared my notes or anything and you know me, I’ve got to be prepared or I won’t make a coherent analysis and then I’m really in trouble-” Tim cut your rambling off with a murmur of your name and you slowed your frantic movements to look at him.

“We’re okay, right?”

You smiled at him before you walked out the glass door. “Yeah, we’re alright.”

***

Last night was confusing to say the least. You could still feel the heat in your cheeks from...embarrassment? No, it wasn’t that. It was more like you couldn’t stand around to see what he meant by his comment. You couldn’t stand around why everyone else say you as a couple when you knew you weren’t. But you were okay with not being a couple weren’t you?

It’s like not you liked him that way. Yeah, a simple smile from him could turn your day around and your concourse snacks were the highlight of your week. But that’s because he was your best friend. It’s not like you wanted to spend every morning waking up to him or spend your afternoons running your fingers through his hair. It’s not like you wanted to take him back to Seattle to meet Dani or how you wanted to wear his jersey to call him yours. It’s not like you daydreamed about him gently holding your hand as you walked through ByWard market or how soft his lips would be as he leaned in to kiss you or what his abs felt like without a shirt separating your fingers from his skin.

Except it was like that.

And then came the comment at the gala. Did that mean he liked you too? But he said you were just going as friends. Did he mean it platonically? What if you read things wrong? Fuck, why were feelings so complicated?

Dani, you needed to call Dani. She’d know what to make of all this. She picked up on the fourth ring. “Thanks for calling Books By The Ocean, may you please hold?”

“Dani, it’s me.” Hold music filled your ear and you rolled your eyes. A few minutes later, there was almost certainly a hole in your rug from your pacing and she finally picked up.

“Why’d you resort to calling the store? I would’ve answered my phone eventually,”

“Yeah, eventually. I just really need to talk to you now,”

“Okay, so what’s up?”

“There’s this guy…”

“Is it Tim? Please tell me it’s Tim.” When you didn’t answer, she rejoined before reeling it in and telling you to continue.

“Anyways...we’re pretty good friends, I've known him since like the start of the season, and I don’t know, like I think he likes me? And I mean, I like him, he’s really great but, like, I just-”

“Can you get to the point please?”

“I want to take the next step with him. I want to be more than friends with him. I want all those things but… I just seem frozen. Like when I think about telling him, my body feels like it won’t move. It feels like I’m underwater. But I want to do more with him. I want that. Why won’t my brain get that and let me… I don’t know, let me act on my feelings?”

“You’re protecting yourself. You’ve never got hurt before,” You scoffed at her statement.

“What do you mean, of course I have,”

“Okay, sure, when you scraped your knee or when Nancy Peters called you dumb in second grade but you haven’t got hurt before. You haven’t opened yourself up to someone and let someone into your heart and let them see you for who you are.”

“Well, yeah, okay, but that’s because they might not like what they see,”

She sighed. “You can’t go through life with your walls up, kiddo. It’s hard, but you have to trust yourself. You have to let yourself feel. You have to let people in. When we were little and moved around a lot, maybe it was a survival tactic. But you’ve been in Ottawa for close to five years now and have unpacked all your boxes? Have you had any friends over? You’ve put down roots there but you’re still holding onto a survival tactic when you need to be living, not just surviving.

“I let people in--”

“No. You don’t. Has Tim ever been in your apartment? Has he seen that even though you resent Mom, you still have family photos of the four of us in your living room? Does he know about Dad? You might have told him stuff but you’re still living behind walls.” She sighed.

“Look, I don’t mean to be hard on you, but I want to see you thrive kiddo. I want you to experience life, and yeah, hurt is a part of life. You aren’t doing life right if you come out unscathed. And sure, maybe he’s a great friend. But in some instances, that romantic partner can fill a more emotionally secure place. People usually place more trust in their partner than just a friend. You’ve got to open up to him more than you already have if you want more from him.”

“How do I do that?”

“You’ve got to figure that out on your own kiddo, but it probably wouldn’t hurt to talk to him. Honestly; no hiding behind your friendship.” You nodded to her advice, before realizing she couldn’t see you, and thanked her for her help. She hung up with the promise to chat again on Wednesday like you normally did. You threw your phone beside the sink and leaned your head against the cool counter.

Be honest with him

Okay, you could do that. Easy enough right? You just had to make a plan to tell him. You could do that.

***

You were walking through the halls close to the bench to deliver your latest stats to the coach. It was your job after the other analysts determined you “had the youngest feet” and could go scouring around to find the coach. You didn’t mind. Besides… if you just happened to bump into Tim while you were down here, well then that was a completely unplanned coincidence. Since the gala and your chat with Dani afterwards, you were feeling good about where you stood with Tim. And you’d made your plan. After the game, you’d meet up for after-game snacks like most home games and you had told yourself you’d talk to him then.

You had given the latest report to the coach on the bench, walking past the locker room towards the box when you heard Tim's voice.

“...I don’t know man, I just need a break from Y/n.” You stopped in your tracks. It wasn’t that you meant to be nosy, but at the mention of your name… you wanted to see what else he had to say. You hadn’t meant to smother him but you guess he saw it differently. Your shoulders dropped and you bit your lip.

“I only have a problem around them!” You could feel the breakfast in your stomach start to turn, the feeling of bile starting to rise up. A ringing started to fill your ears, the white static noise only being pieced by his once comforting voice.

“It’s just… We work together, you know? It’s awkward,” Where was this attitude when you were hanging out at the start of the season? Last week? If this is how he felt, why didn’t… what did he mean by his comment to Dakota?

His voice shook you out of your trance. “Like at the end of the day, I’m me… they pay me a lot to play my game and they’re...them.” At that, you rushed away from earshot. If that was how he really felt, then screw him. If he was the hockey star and you were just the analyst, then that’s what role you’d play. Nothing more, nothing less. And he wasn’t brave enough to say that to your face, you’d say it first.

This is why you didn’t open yourself up. If you were going to get hurt either way, it might as well be the least damaging option.

Over the next few games and practices, you kept your distance from the players. You avoided the bench, sending Jody to give reports to the coach. You kept your office door closed, the blinds closed, and you made sure to time your exits of the arena to avoid Tim. If avoiding him meant you avoided the inevitable conversation where he would tell you your flaws and point out every way you misread things, then you would do that.

After you heard that, you stopped going out of your way to pass by the boys in the arena. You went into your office, closed the door, and didn’t leave until you went home. When you had to sit in the stands for practices, you sat higher than you used to and ignored the waves and stared you got from the team. He sent the occasional text but you replied with an im busy too many times that he stopped trying. It was odd to you how he kept reaching out when he was the one who said he needed a break but you ignored that voice in your head.

It was a Friday when he finally confronted you. You had been so close to leaving the arena, just one more hallway, and you would’ve been out the door and into the parking lot. He had called your name and you tried to turn the corner without him but he caught up easily, grabbing your wrist to get you to stay.

“What’s up? It feels like I haven’t seen you in forever,” He let go of your wrist as you turned to face him.

“Well that’s what happens when you’re a bigshot NHL player and I’m a lowly analyst.” He squinted his eyes and furrowed his eyebrows at your statement.

“What?”

“Look, I don’t-- I don’t think we should be friends anymore,”

He slowly nodded, thinking your words over in his head. “Okay. Um...I think… yeah, that could be good. I don’t think we should be just friends either.” He shot you a shy smile with a spark of hope in his eyes but you frowned.

“Good. It’s settled then.” You turned on your heel and walked away from him, only wiping your teary eye once you had rounded the corner, refusing to let him see you cry. You missed the way he frowned as you retreated.

The weekend was spent in bed, repeat episodes of Loki playing in the background. Loki never hurt you the way Tim had, the way his words dug into your insecurities of being alone creating a wound like no other. You had turned your phone off earlier as it kept buzzing with messages from him. You didn’t want to hear his excuses of why and you didn’t want to explain that you’d overheard his conversation. But the season wasn’t over yet so you gave yourself two days to grieve. When Monday morning came, it was like nothing had ever happened.

Tim caught you in the main entrance way at the rink. It was close to 8am and you knew he didn’t have practice until 11, so it was obvious he was waiting for you. You walk right past him until he softly calls your name and you stop walking, but don’t turn around. “Why are you ignoring me?”

“You know why.” You whipped around and scoffed at him. “And you know what else? If you had a problem with me, you could’ve just said something. You didn’t have to keep hanging out with me.”

“What?”

“I think we should just keep this professional, 18. I’m nothing more than a background analyst to your hockey superstar, so let’s just stick to our jobs, yeah?”

“What are you talking about?”

“We work together, we shouldn’t be friends, you said it yourself. It’ll be better this way. Now, please, just leave me alone.” You brushed by him, bumping your shoulder with his, and you missed the way his jaw fell open at how quickly your relationship seemed to change.

He seemed to leave you alone after that. He didn’t check in and he didn’t send funny memes he found. He didn’t text you to tell you he landed safely on road trips and you didn’t congratulate him on a game well played. You could tell Brady and Josh thought it was weird but didn’t say anything, just gave you pitying looks when you passed by or caught their eye in the halls.

The Senators failed to clinch a playoff spot, thanks to an overtime loss to Winnipeg. The end of the season for you was nice. It meant a shift in your work to more prospects, and thankfully, a more flexible work schedule. You didn’t have to go into the arena and most of the players went back to their hometowns to visit. It was supposed to be a reprieve for you, knowing Tim wasn’t even in the country. It was supposed to be relaxing, going to all the places that had helped you in the past to regroup your thoughts.

But instead, it felt suffocating, strolling through the market. You’d been here thousands of times to clear your head, but this time the deeper you walked, the more the thoughts in your head swirled into a hurricane.

You’d never know what home felt like. You’d had friends tell you it’s having like extended family over around the holidays or it’s the peacefulness they felt at their lake house. You thought you had found it in Ottawa, its quaintness and history bringing you a sense of calm you hadn’t had before. But only with Tim did you feel that inner peace that home felt like. Only with Tim did you feel like you could take on the world. Only with Tim did you feel whole.

And that was scary.

Feeling like one person could complete you, like they had a piece of your heart you didn’t know you gave them, was scary. You were used to being on your own. You’d done it throughout your levels of schooling and throughout the beginnings of your career. And all it took for that strength to come crashing down was a bashfully confident German hockey player.

He couldn’t even tell you why. It would’ve hurt more to hear the exact reasons why you weren’t good enough for him, but it would have quelled your mind from picking on every single insecurity your mind could come up with.

Before you knew it, you were staring at the Ottawa sign. You glanced around to see couples waiting for their turn at the sign. Some of the guys had their arms around the shoulders’ of their girlfriends. Some of the girls had their hands clasped in their girlfriends’. Some people had their arms around the waist of their partner. But they all had a smile on their face, a fondness that was reserved for the love of their life.

Your eye caught the sight of a backwards Senators cap and your head whipped around. The person was tall and was wearing a grey hoodie. The man turned to the side and you caught a glance of the brown tufts of hair that stuck out of the cap. He threw his head back and the corners of your mouth turned up. Tim’s laugh was always infectious, even if you were upset with him.

But it wasn’t him.

He hadn’t reached out since the day in the hallway. As much as you knew you didn’t want to hear him say things more hurtful than what you overheard, you couldn’t help but wonder where you went wrong. The what-ifs tumbled around in your head, the possibilities of why suddenly your friendship was too much for him.

As you stood there in the market, the memories racing through your mind mixed with images of happy couples all around you, you knew you had to get out. You don’t really remember the rush of leaving, all you know is that the city that felt big for so many years now felt too small. You can’t go anywhere without being reminded of him, his smile, his laugh. How his eyes glimmer from the light of a movie. You drove yourself to the airport, knowing there wasn’t going to be a cab this early in the morning.

Before you knew it, you were standing outside of the familiar blue painted bookstore with your duffle bag in your hands. It was raining and overcast in Seattle, which wasn’t unusual, but even the fat teardrops felt melancholic. The sign in the window said closed, but you knew Dani would be in the back, organizing new stock. You knocked on the window, the sound rattling through the worn building. A few seconds later, her head of light pink hair came to the door, opening it. Before she could question your presence, you spoke.

“He didn’t want me,” you cried. “He didn’t even see all of me and he didn’t want me.” You dropped your bag as she pulled you into a hug. One hand cradled the back of your head as she pulled you out of the rain and into the store. You inhaled her scent, a mix of sea salt and the old bookstore, and squeezed her tightly. When she released you from the hug, she tucked a piece of hair behind your ear, her fingers grazing down your jaw. She gave you a soft smile, before walking to the back of the store, where her apartment was. Your shoes squeaked against the old hardwood floors as you followed her towards the kitchen, where you could smell a pot of tea brewing.

She was silent as she poured you a cup, kissed your head, before whispering everything was going to work out. She slipped out of the room, giving you your space.

You didn’t even have to ask. Dani let you stay with her for the summer, as long as you helped out around the store when you weren’t doing your own work. She didn’t push you for details about Tim, she just let you be. You tried your best to be cheery around the customers but that facade only lasted so long. When you were alone, you didn’t try to hide the emptiness you felt there.

***

Too soon did the days start to get shorter, the nights colder, the pitter-patter of raindrops became more constant which meant fall was coming. The season was starting up again, and you had to head back to Ottawa. This summer at home was a nice break but you knew that running away wasn’t going to solve all your problems. You were packing when a text from Josh came in.

So when are you getting in?

i land at 9pm on the 20th. Why?

Can’t I wonder when my friend gets into the city?

we’re friends?

Of course we are Numbers! I don’t share family recipes with just anyone :)

good to know thanks :)

You continued packing, thinking about what he said. You knew the two of you were friends, but he was Tim’s teammate. His roommate. To hear him say, regardless of where you and Tim stand, that you two were still good was a relief. As much as you’ve enjoyed your time away from the city, you missed work. You missed sitting in the arena, a brisk chill over your shoulder, the sounds of scraping ice and whistles. You missed the quaintness of Ottawa and, as much as he’d never let you forget it, you missed Josh’s cooking. Nights with Dani didn’t compare to nights with Brady (and sometimes Emma) and Josh.

Dani parked in the loading zone of the airport. She got out of the car to help with your bag, even though you had only brought one.

“Hey, listen, um. I know you don’t want to talk about what happened with Tim but… I think you need to talk to him.”

“Dani...”

“No, listen. I think you need some closure. You ran away from a city you haven’t left in five years, a city you so obviously love, because it hurt to think about him. Maybe closure means you talk to him. Maybe it doesn’t. But you’ve spent this whole summer looking lost, like you’re waiting for something to magically appear and make everything better. You look like you’ve lost a piece of yourself and you don’t know how to get it back. And that’s not you, kiddo. It’s never been you; you’ve always been so straightforward and sure of yourself. I want you to feel like yourself again, that’s all.”

“What if…” You swallowed the lump in your throat. “What if the piece of me that I lost isn’t something I can get back?”

“Then you fill it. It might not be perfect and maybe you need lots of tape, and maybe you accept that there will be small cracks in it, but those holes make your souls yours. It’s a part of life, and you can’t avoid it no matter how hard you try.” You pulled her in for a hug, some of the tears in your eyes dropping onto her shoulder.

“Thank you Dani. For everything.” She pulled back to wipe the tears from your face, a smile on her face.

“You know I’m always here for you, kiddo. Take care of yourself, okay?” You nodded, knowing if you spoke again, more tears would bubble over. You walked towards the departures gate, walking towards the reality you ran from.

Several hours later, you were happy to be back in Ottawa. You had missed it, as much as it pained you when you were here. Tim Hortons, bilingual signs, friendly smiles, and oh god you could have real poutine again. Yeah, it was nice to be back.

Dani’s words mulled over in your head throughout the flight, and continued to as you made your way through the airport. She was right, maybe you needed closure. Accept what happened and move on. You’d lost friends when you graduated early, you’d lost friends when you moved away. You’d lost friends before and this was no different.

Except you knew deep down it was different. It was Tim; it was always going to be different with him.

You shook your head, as if to physically rid yourself of the thought. If Tim didn’t want to be around you, then you weren’t going to waste your time waiting for him to show up. You’d suck it up everything you had to look at a stat, but other than that you’d focus on work, focus on proving yourself in the company. You started to walk towards where you’d parked your car (without wondering how much the parking was), ignoring the happy reunions of students and families. You had been perfectly fine being in Ottawa on your own until you realized how much better it could be when you had someone.

A hand grasped your wrist and instantly, you turned around and ripped your arm from the stranger. You looked up, first to see a bouquet of flowers made up of peach roses, white tulips, and hydrangeas. Behind the colours of the flowers, you see a familiar face, eyes full of sorrow and hope. Even when you were ignoring him, he was still so easy to read.

“Number 18.” You struggled to keep your voice even, but you lifted your head to appear as if he had no effect on him.

“Hi Y/n,” He met your eyes, which you quickly darted away. “These are for you.” He tried to hand the bouquet to you, but you shook your head.

“How did you know when I got in?” The coldness in your voice surprised Tim, but he didn’t show it, swallowing slowly before answering you.

“Josh told me." You folded your arms, your hands gripping your bag in case you needed to get away from this conversation.

“Josh mentioned it or you asked Josh?” When he didn’t answer, you knew it was the latter and scoffed at his sneaky actions. You quickly turned away from him and moved faster towards the exit. You heard him sigh from behind you and before you could make a sly comment about it beneath your breath, he was ahead of you, blocking your way. You tried to side-step him, but hockey reflexes prevailed. You glared his way and tried again, silently begging him to move.

“C’mon, you have to talk to me sometime, we work together,” He commented.

“That’s exactly it. We work together. You’re the high and mighty NHL superstar and I’m the nerdy analyst. We have our places. They don’t mix, so really I don’t have to work with you at all. So, please, if you could just move, I have nothing else to say to you.” You tried once more to step around him, but he lightly grabbed your forearm to stop you.

“But I have stuff to say to you.”

“You had months to say it, so I’ll say it again, please let me by.” Suddenly, he was on his knees in the airport, the flowers still outstretched in his hands.

“Y/n,”

“What are you doing?” You hiss to him, your face darting around to see people starting to stare at Tim’s grand gesture.

“I need you to talk to me, and you won’t, so I’ll beg until you agree to hear me out,” You could feel more people staring, the shutter of camera phones, the eyes of everyone in the Ottawa airport (or what felt like it) easily making up your mind. There was a reason you were an analyst, away from the spotlight, doing your work behind the scenes.

“Get up,” you started to pull on his arm, but he just stayed anchored to the ground.

“You’ll talk to me?”

“18, I will do anything as long as you stop making a scene,” At this point, your cheeks felt as if you’d stood under the beating sun for an hour. He got up from his knees, the flowers still outstretched in his hands, and you let go of his arm. You grabbed the flowers from his arms, dropping them in a garbage bin as you stalked out of the airport. Tim caught up to you and walked by your side.

You said nothing as you reached your car, unlocking the doors. You didn’t even wait for him to have his seatbelt on before you were backing out of the stall and driving away. Thoughts were running wild in your head; you were angry and embarrassed at the stunt he pulled at the airport, appalled at the audacity he had to show up after what he said, and last of all you were reluctantly happy to be back in his presence again. So you went to the one place you knew you could think.

You put the car in park overlooking the suburbs. You turned it off and rested your arms on the steering wheel. You couldn’t make the effort to get out and walk to the lookout spot, the car creating a safe bubble for your thoughts.

“Why won’t you talk to me?” His soft voice broke the tense silence in the car and you scoffed.

“We’re not friends anymore. You’re the Senators star player and I’m just the nerdy analyst. There’s no reason for me to need to talk to you.”

“See, you keep saying that but I-I don’t get it! What does that even mean?” You furrow your eyebrows as you turn to face him, his own face scrunched up and his eyes hard.

“What do you mean you don’t get it? You said that! The last game against Montréal? I was walking past the locker room and… I overheard you talking with the guys.” You looked down to your lap, findling with your hands. You briefly saw Tim’s hand start to move towards you, but you shook your head and it stayed in his lap. “You said you needed a break from me. You said that ‘at the end of the day they pay me a lot to play my game and they’re.. them’. You said you had a problem with me. What was I supposed to take from that except that you didn’t want me to be in your life?”

He stammered for words but you cut him off. “No, I don’t think you understand how much it hurt. Hurt to have the one person who I thought understood me to talk behind my back about how I wasn’t enough for them. It hurt to know that the one person who I always wanted to talk to, didn’t want to talk to me. Hurt to think that you’ve only ever seen me as just some nerdy analyst who has no place in your life. I had been fine before, without you in my life, but then you came in and knocked down every barrier I ever had. And then left as if you didn’t just break my life into pieces!

“I left Ottawa because it hurt too much to go to all my favourite places, because I went there with you. I let you into my safe spaces, and when you left, you shattered that security. You tainted all the good I had there. I thought that Ottawa was home before I met you,” you scoffed. “Not even close. You feel like home to me. And for you to say that I was a problem in your life?” You shook your head at him and looked down at your hands. “I tried to get over it, believe me I did. But every single place I went I was reminded of you… and how everything we had didn’t feel like a big deal to you.”

“I never meant for that to happen.” His voice was quiet and strained, as if he was trying to keep his emotions within him.

“You know the hardest part? I didn’t just have to get over losing my best friend. I had to get over someone I fell in love with! I lost the single most important relationship with one tiny little passing conversation. And you acted like nothing happened! Like we were still friends, like you still cared for me-”

“Ich liebe dich du trottel!” His outburst caught you off guard and you gulped. His heavy breathing was the only sound in the car as you whispered.

“You know I don’t speak German…”

“You don’t need to know German to know what I said,” His eyes were hard, a look you had only seen during games.

“Oh.” You shook your head and looked at him. “Wait what?”

“I didn’t say those things you think I did! You didn’t listen to the whole thing! Brady was teasing me about me saying I don’t have a problem talking to people I like and I don’t normally but you’re the exception! I needed a break from you because everytime I see you, my heart starts beating faster and my hands get sweaty and I don’t know how to act! And the guys said that sounds like I’m in love with you-- and I am! I am! But when I finally started to do something about it, you ran away from me! I didn’t know what to do. Besides, if I fell in love with you...it could mess with our jobs. Because if for any reason, something happens, they’d fire you before they’d ever trade me. And you’ve worked too hard to have an opportunity like this be taken away from you because of me. So... I didn’t know what to do. And then you just kept ignoring me and saying those things about how you’re just a nerdy analyst…. It felt like we weren’t on the same page anymore and I didn’t know where it came from or what to do either so I tried to give you space. But then you shut me out. And you said we shouldn’t be friends. So I thought that meant.... you wanted to be more than friends? And the boys were saying that you being mean to me was just you having a hard time having feelings for me but then you… uh, yelled at me so I left you alone. But that doesn’t mean I stopped thinking about you.” He placed one of his hands on top of your tentatively, giving you the option to shoo his hand away. When you didn’t, he rubbed the skin on top of your hand. “It never meant I stopped caring about you.”

He sighed. “I guess I see now that I should not have given you space. I should’ve been better for you because that’s what you deserve.”

“I could’ve been better too, this isn’t all your fault. I said some mean things.”

“I promise you, that when we’re together I’m not a NHL player. I’m just me… just Tim from Germany who likes hockey. You have always seen me for who I am, and that’s...that’s something I love about you.”

Your breath got caught in your throat. Love… was a big word. Love was for confident people. Love was for those who didn’t understand the weight of that four letter word. Love wasn’t a word you threw around. Love was scary. It asked you to place your bandaged heart in someone else’s hands and hope they didn’t drop it, shattering the pieces into smithereens. Love meant letting down those walls that time and time again had proved that needed to stay up. To protect you. To avoid the heartache of broken trust.

And here he was, throwing that word around as if the implications didn’t matter. As if he didn’t leave. As if he didn’t call you a problem. As if he didn’t know the months you spent trying to forget him and the fragments he left behind.

As if he still wasn’t understanding.

“I… I can’t do this.” You go to open the car door only for it to lock. You gasp, and you whip your head around, your eyes sharp. “This is my car, you can’t do that!” His eyes went wide and you tried again, only for it to be locked again. You gritted your teeth and he spoke before you could reprimand him again.

“Don’t shut me out again! You say you can’t do this, okay, but tell me why. We’re supposed to-to talk to each other! We would’ve had no mess if you had just talked to me after you heard what I said! So.. talk to me,” You met his soft eyes, your resolve breaking with just one look. “Please, schatz.”

You slowly pulled your hand off the handle, letting it fall into your lap. You picked at your fingernails while trying to compose your thoughts, Tim’s concerned eyes never leaving you. He murmured your name and you took a deep breath, steadying yourself.

“I’m sorry I just- I don’t know if I can jump back into where we were. I know that… it’s different than I thought but I can’t-” you cut yourself off before you said something you regret and a cold chill ran through you. “It still hurts. I can’t just unhear those things you said. Especially when they came from you. So, I’m going to need time to process everything.”

He placed one of his hands over your fidgeting fingers and you lifted your head to meet his soft eyes. “I’ll give you some space. Just let me know when you know, yeah?” Before you could nod your head, he had opened his door and got out of your vehicle. You quickly got out to question him.

“What are you doing?” He turns around at the sound of your voice.

“I’m… I’m giving you space?”

“How are you planning to get home? Uber?” He shrugged before nodding, with his hands stuffed in his pockets. “Uh, no. No. Get in.” He raised his eyebrows and you sighed. “It’s almost 11pm, we’re in a dark forestry area, and you are the least threatening person I know. I’m not going to let you get stabbed by some murder psycho; you still mean something to me, you know.”

At that he came over to the car, and the two of you got settled back into your seats. After you buckled up and started the engine, Tim broke his silence.

“Did you mean that? That I still mean something to you?”

You swallowed slowly and took a while to answer his question, your hand resting on the gear shift. You put the car in reverse, and looked over at him. “You’re always going to mean something to me. Just what exactly you are changes.” You backed out of the parking lot and started the drive to his place. He was quiet for a few minutes, pondering your answer, but when he spoke his voice had the quiet confidence he always carried around with him.

“Can I ask what I am right now?” Streetlights illuminated his face and out of the corner of your eye you see him slightly turned towards you, his face unsure.

“No. I’ll keep you updated?”

“Good enough.”

The rest of the drive back to his house was quiet, aside from the lo-fi beats you had playing in the background. Despite the tension, the drive felt comfortable. When you parked in front of his house, he cleared his throat.

“Um, thank you for the ride. I’ll see you around I guess,” He unbuckled his seat belt and placed his hand on the handle.

“Goodnight Tim.” Despite your smile, Tim really hoped your goodnight didn’t also mean goodbye. He got out of your car, walked up the steps to his door, unlocked it and gave you a small wave before he went inside.

Tim was true to his word. He gave you space. He didn’t go back to the lookout spot or the war memorial, knowing those were your sanctuaries before they were his. He didn’t ask for updates, he didn’t stop by your office, he didn’t ask Josh how you were doing.

And you appreciated it. The time and space left you alone with your thoughts and you often visited the lookout spot or the war memorial, trying to find some peace, but those spots were now shared with Tim. So, for the first time in a long time, you spent time in your apartment.

When you moved in, you hadn’t done anything to the place. Spaces were temporary in your experience. It was more hassle than it was worth to try to make the space your own if, in a year everything was a clean slate. But Dani was right. It had been close to six years now since you moved in. Six years. You had a stable job, you had friends here, it was time to accept that maybe this was more than temporary.

You started by unpacking the last few boxes that were stacked in the hallway. You replaced the command hooks hanging your picture frames with nails. You got new paint to liven up the living room from the basic beige it was before. You put the work into making your apartment really yours. You had to stop living behind walls and this was a first step.

The next step was to really open up.

***

You were waiting outside the dressing room for Tim to get out. You came down as soon as practice finished so you knew you wouldn’t miss him. You leaned against the cool concrete, trying to control your bouncing leg. He was one of the last out of the dressing room and you shyly smiled at the other players who left. When he came out, you popped off from the wall and stood in front of him.

“Do you still want to know why I picked hockey?” You could tell your question caught him off guard but he nodded nonetheless. “You had asked and I brushed it off...because it hurt to think about. Because it was my dad...He loved hockey. Everywhere we went, there was a team he could cheer for, but he always wished that his hometown team would win, no matter how bad they were. He took me to a game once. I had asked why he liked it so much, it was cold and loud and people were drunk and I’m pretty sure our team was losing. We were down in the crowd and he said to me, ‘Hockey is this great sport. It connects people. It creates families right before your eyes. Enemies can become teammates. This...this sport can be a family for you, anywhere you go. I hope one day you can find something that does the same thing for you.’ Two weeks later, he had a heart attack. So, I held onto the one thing that he found belonging in. I liked my math, it made sense, and I’m good at it. But when it came to doing something with my life, I just- I wanted something to make my dad proud of me, you know? I wanted to feel connected to him.”

Tim was silent but he pulled you into a hug, your head going into the crook of his neck. His arms went around your waist and he held you for a minute. “Your dad would be proud of you. I know he would. Why’d you tell me now though?”

“Well, friends share personal stuff, right?” You pulled away from the hug just enough to catch his eyes. You looked up at him hopefully, and he smiled.

“Yeah, they do.” He broke the hug, but kept an arm slung over your shoulder. “C’mon, friends also eat brussel sprouts for each other.” You laughed at his distaste for them and the two of you walked out the parking lot together, his arm still slung around your shoulders.

***

You looked up at the ceiling, your bedsheets twisted beside you. It had been about two weeks since you told Tim about your dad, and since then, the two of you had been exchanging texts daily. It felt familiar, even though both of you knew it was different. Not a bad different, just… different. You’d been over to his place a couple times and he came over for your place for a ‘welcome back’ dinner.

You were nervous to show him your apartment, but you knew you had grown into the space. It was no longer generic beige walls and command strips. The living room had an accent wall and you put nails in the wall to hang your family photos in the hallway. Tim took his time looking around your space, spending extra time in the hallway. He stopped in front of the picture of your family, all four of you, and smiled.

“My parents are coming into town when we play the Caps in December, if you want to meet them?” He had said when you sat down to eat. You sputtered your drink a little and set down the glass.

“Only if...you meet Dani when we go to Seattle in January?” His face broke into a grin and he nodded.

“I’d love that.” The rest of the dinner had no issues, just two friends catching up and getting familiar with each other again.

But he wanted you to meet his parents. He wanted you to meet the people who raised him, his family. And you didn’t have any hesitations. You wanted to meet the people who made Tim who he is.

This past week solidified that you knew what you wanted. You wanted to meet Tim’s family, you wanted to show him around Seattle, you wanted to be with him. If he still wanted to be with you.

If.

He had been pretty clear where he stood on his feelings, but the voice in the back of your mind taunted you with that one tiny two letter word. He might have seen how you reacted, how unstable you were, and how you weren’t ready to jump into things as a sign you didn’t want this. He could’ve taken your steps to being friends again as being just friends again. He could’ve-

You weren’t going to wait around to let what-if’s and might of’s and could’ve’s waft around in your head. You needed to talk to him, needed to see him. So in your pajama pants and a hoodie, you braved the Canadian night and drive to his house. You parked the car, rather haphazardly, but it could wait. You skipped a step walking up to his door and quickly phoned him.

You paced back and forth on the small porch as the phone rang three times before he picked up.

“Hallo?” His accent was thicker in his native language, the harsh constants sounding so soft from his lips.

“Can you come open the door?”

“What?”

“I’m outside. Can you open the door?”

“What? It’s like...early,”

A sigh escapes you. “Tim. I know. I know now.”

“Well if you looked at a clock before you left your place, you would’ve known earlier. That would’ve-”

“Tim.” You gulped and your voice trembled slightly. “I’m ready. I know what I want.” The tone of your voice dropped its lightheartedness and that alone was enough to shake the sleep from his mind. But your words? More than enough to get him out of bed and racing (as quietly as he could in the dark) towards you.

He opened the front door in his sleep joggers to see you pacing and shaking your arms. You hadn’t noticed him yet, so he took the opportunity to admire you. The way your hair fell, your Senator pajama pants that Brady gave you as a gag gift, the way you bit your lip between your teeth.

“Hey.” His voice broke you out of your trance, your head whipping around to see him standing in the doorframe.

“Hi.” Your voice was quiet, the nerves getting the best of you. You stood there for a while, just looking at each other. His hair was a mess and he was wearing the grey hoodie you knew for a fact was his favourite. “Oh, right, I have to go first. Um...Are- are you still sure about your feelings for me?” He nodded. “And-and they’re for sure, good feelings?”

“… They’re such good feelings.” You nodded and gave your body another shake through, as if to dissipate the nerves racing throughout your veins.

“I know it’s taken me a while to kinda sort everything out but… I like you too. That’s why hearing those things hurt so much. That’s why I had to take some time. I've been alone for most of my life and it was scary to let someone in so easily, unknowingly. You just waltzed in and made yourself at home in my heart and it felt like you belonged so I… I didn’t even realize you could hurt me. And when I heard those things, it hurt more. It just solidified that I should’ve stayed alone. You can’t get hurt if there’s no one to hurt you right? But every talk, every late night drive, everything we had...it was worth all the hurt. So I’m ready. I want to do this with you, even if it hurts. I don’t know if I can do life without you.” He pushed himself off of the doorframe and came to stand in front of you, his hand cupping your cheeks, soothing the skin under your eyes.

“I didn’t mean to hurt you and I don’t plan on doing it ever again, Y/n, you have to know that.” You nodded against his hands and you could feel some of his tension fade from his body. “Does this mean… we could be more than friends?”

“I want to be much more than friends with you, Tim.” You bit your lip to try to stop your smile from growing so wide, but it broke through when you saw how wide his smile was and how his eyes crinkled with joy.

“Does this mean I can kiss you now?” He asked softly, already leaning in. He left space between the two of you so you could decide but you easily leaned into him, your lips meeting. It was gentle but it was loving. You moved in sync, Tim’s hand moving to the back of your head to push you closer to him. Eventually, you pulled away for air.

“Schatz…” He breathed and you laughed lightly.

“You know, I don't think you've told me what that really means,” You said with a cheeky smile.

“Would you like me to say it in English, sweetheart?” He brushed his nose with yours.

“Hmm, German is fine,” You tilted your head upwards, almost brushing your lips with his. With your teasing, he let out a groan, bringing you in for another kiss. This time he broke for air, his eyes still slightly closed.

“You know, you cured my homesickness. I never felt like I missed home because I found home in you,” He whispered. Your heart melted and you brought your lips together with a passion he hadn’t seen from you before. Your hands tangled in his hair and he chased your lips as if it was a breakaway. When you broke for air, the two of you were breathless.

“As much as I want to keep doing that, it’s also very early and I am tired. Can we go back to bed please?” His arms were still around your waist, but he leaned back enough that you could see his face, puppy dog eyes and all. You nodded to his request with a soft smile, and went to remove yourself from his arms and go back to your car, but he tightened his grip.

“I got you now, so I’m not letting you go.” You buried your head in the crook of his neck and slowly the two of you made your way into the warm house. He led you through the dark hallways to his bedroom, giggling and sneaking kisses where you could.

You fell asleep so easily, the quickest you have the entire time you had lived in Ottawa. And it wasn’t only Tim’s warmth, or the way his sheets smell like hockey tape and his peppermint shampoo. You had finally opened yourself up. You had found that belonging your dad always wanted you to. And you found that in Tim; whether he knew it or not, he was home.

let me know what you think! thanks for reading!

join my taglist

taglist: @heatherawoowoo

[kathy89]

A (not so) normal day at the office

Now I know this is awful it’s my first attempt so lol

Shang-Chi x Y/N reader

Slight spoilers I guess

Synopsis:My usual 9-5 job is always full of interesting people, however this one guy catches my eye especially when he saves me

[Slight swearing, mention of death]

-

-

-

-

Monday morning was unusually bleak for San Francisco but I didn’t mind today: it just meant i could finally wear the new jacket ( a thrift store bargain I might add!). grabbing my keys, phone & headphones and off i went to my job, temporarily working for Dr Mickelson as a receptionist at his secret lab, as a favour for a friend. Dr M saw shady people, who seeked power and would take anything the Doc gave them to feel it. It unsettled me at first not really knowing what was happening behind the doors of his lab but it was good money and i needed it if i didn’t want to move back in with the parents!

Since the bus incident several months ago i opted to walk to work, crazy shit seems to be the norm over the past few years with the Avengers and the Thanos snap but I’d like to make it to work in one piece at least!

As I turned the corner onto the street of the lab/ office I could see a man pacing back and forth by the entrance; it wasn’t unusual to have this sort of behaviour as Dr M has a range of people come to see him and a few walk out promising he’ll regret this and that but it’s usually a bad review on Yelp or something. I slowed my pace a little and held the keys in between my fingers in case I had to think fast on the stranger.

Walking up past me however was a man I recognised immediately but where have a seen that face. Wearing headphones to he lifted his head bopping into in time to his music i presumed, he locked eye contact with me and (cliche as it seems) it felt for a moment time slowed in those few seconds, we both smiled huge grins at one another and time carried on. Feeling his eyes on the back of my head, I’d almost forgotten about the ominous stranger waiting outside the office and I felt my shoulders tense up again as the stranger raised his voice at me…“About time, I was about to kick the door open myself. Where’s the son of a bitch!”

“I’m sorry Sir, we open at 9! You’re welcome to wait outside but unless you have an appointment Dr Mickelson won’t be able to see you today” I calmly said unlocking the door making sure to keep an eye on the ragged man.

“He’ll see me if he knows what’s best for him and you’ll let me inside if you knows what’s best for you gorgeous” with this I saw he was hiding a weapon within the pocket of hoodie.

Slowly opening the door, wondering if I could get in safely to lock the door and get Dr M to help. But before I could the man lunged towards me with the knife pointed towards me. Shit this is it, I’d at least imagined I’d go from an alien invasion or typical villain seeking revenge from one of the avengers but I was about to die right outside my workplace, from a man who only imagined to have that sort of power.

Dropping to the floor and closing my eyes, picturing my mama and papa as the last memory. I felt a gust of wind which slightly knocked me over, forcing my eyes open. The man his back and the knife lying on the floor beside him, I look up to see the man I locked eyes with only moments ago, palms out, one foot in front of the other and incredible posture. Unsure on what happened the ragged man looked at me and then up to the man grabbing the knife and jumping to his feet ready to fight.

With a swift move of his arms the thug was back on the floor this time unconscious.

“Hi, I’m Shang-Chi but you can call me Shaun if you’d prefer”

“Er- I..I’m Y/N. What was that? Some sort of martial arts or something?”

“Yeah or something…ugh are the okay? I saw you looked uncomfortable and heard him shout” out stretching his arm out to me I realised he was offering his hand to help me up

“Thank you, I’m okay now…wow I really thought I was about to go then…” finally clicking where I’d seen him I arose almost exclaiming” Wait you’re the guy from the bus video everyone’s been sharing!”

“Ha! Yep that’s me! Listen I don’t know how long he’ll be out for we need to get you inside and safe. Go inside and lock the door, I’ll take care of him” pointing to the hooded stranger still on the floor!

Once again I looked Shang- Chi in the eyes, a slight smirk landed on his face “don’t worry I’ll make sure I’m okay for our date tomorrow night”

Coming out of the trance I stuttered “da…date?”

“ well unless you don’t want to; but I kind of just saved your life and feel like you now owe me. Haha I’m playing, nice meeting you Y/N”

With a sudden urge I heard myself saying “Shang-Chi, meet me here tomorrow at 8. I hope you like Karaoke”

Shang Chi chuckled and with a wink said “I’ll see you then Y/N, I look forward to it!”

[stillness-in-green]

MVA In Memoriam (2/5)

The Comprehensive Account of the Butchering of My Villain Academia

(Introduction and Part One, Episode 108: My Villain Academia)

Part Two, Episode 109: Revival Party

Chapter 224 – Revival Party

• Mr. Compress’s side comment about how the distance Re-Destro wants them to travel means he must know they have warp capabilities. Also shortens his subsequent line, removing the bit about how their position has been locked onto, leaving only the marveling about the dude on the phone being the kind of person who has access to a satellite camera. Not a major cut, but it did strip out a bit of reiteration on how very Seen the League is. The warp line is another nod to how the MLA’s been doing their research—in particular, it ties in nicely with RD’s observations about the Noumu. He talks, there, about something Dabi said after the High End fight, which means he must also know that Dabi was warped out by an “Ujiko-san.”

• Also Mr. C’s observation that they haven’t broken Machia yet, and his posed question about what to do. Mr. Compress, I’m so sorry that you’re so wordy and lose so many quips and asides because the anime was set on brutally scything out every line of non-essential dialogue it could find.

• Ujiko’s extremely hilarious, “Listening to Villain Radio is my new favorite hobby,” line. Why would you cut this; this line is hysterical.

• The bit where Mr. Compress has the bright idea to use a High End Noumu like the one Dabi used, Ujiko rejects the suggestion out of hand, citing production woes, and Shigaraki says that he wasn’t going to ask for one of them anyway. Aside from being more cut Compress content (or “Comptent,” for short), it helps center the timeline somewhat at a point where the manga is jerking it around all over; it also shows that the League has been keeping up with news from the outside world. It also shows that at least one of them thought about using the Noumu—and since we know Re-Destro did some rationalizing on that scenario too, it’s good to see that it is at least briefly on the table.           Further, Ujiko provides a few rare details about the Noumu creation process. Firstly, that AFO is normally involved, so his absence makes the procedure much more difficult (though not, apparently, impossible). Secondly, that Hood-chan was the only Noumu who’d actually reached the testing stage. This will be important later, for Ujiko’s agonizing about unleashing them early/Mirko having to fight four of them at once.           Also, I just miss Mr. C’s funny little head wilt when Ujiko immediately turns down his “use some Noumu” idea. Ditto Shigaraki’s blasé shrug and little grin. Again, not to harp on the art too much, but man I wish the anime had kept all the fierce little grins and tight, incensed smirks Shigaraki has through the majority of this and the phone call sequence.

• Spinner’s line, “Without knowing squat about what we’re up against?!” A minor cut, as these things go, but it reiterates that there’s a chance RD is bluffing and the League has no way to know one way or the other, and demonstrates that the League can give Shigaraki some pushback on his decisions without having to worry about getting dusted for the temerity.[1]

• Takes one of Spinner’s lines—“Wait. I get it. Wherever you go, Shigaraki, he’ll sniff you out and hunt you down.”—and gives it to Shigaraki instead. Because fuck Spinner’s growing understanding of Shigaraki and the way his mind works, I guess! It’s especially notable that Spinner figures this out when Mr. C had completely the wrong idea about Shigaraki’s intentions—it demonstrates the way Spinner is gradually aligning himself with Shigaraki’s way of thinking, which we’ll see even more clearly during the War Arc. Also, again, it’s good to see the moments where the League weighs in on Shigaraki’s plans.

• The visual of Twice lashing out at Dabi with his razor-edged tape measure over Dabi’s dismissal of Giran, though all the relevant dialogue was there. Possibly this is because, having cut the CRC bit, the audience has no way of knowing that Twice’s tape measure is razor-edged, so why bother raising the question, “Why is Twice trying to attack Dabi with a tape measure..?” Possibly it’s because showing that attack would require animating movement, and MAN ALIVE, did Episode 109 ever want to do everything it could to avoid animating movement.

• Slidin’ Go’s line about how Deika isn’t usually his turf, but today is a big exception. This makes the hearty affirmative with which Trumpet announces himself a response to Shigaraki’s half-phrased observation about the reason behind the city’s emptiness, rather than a response to Slidin’ Go. It works, more or less, and probably even flows more clearly, all things considered. I’m always sad to lose lines from the vanishingly few named/characterized MLA members we have, though. I like, too, that it hints at the machinations that have to have been involved with setting things up for the Revival Party, and the way those plans were carried out with confidence that Re-Destro’s “bait the League into coming for their broker” plan would work despite the total absence of a response from the League in any of the time Giran was missing/his fingers were cropping up on the nightly news reports.

• A few shots of cameras in the city, which foreshadow Skeptic’s watchful eyes and ability to track the League through the city. In retrospect, this isn’t surprising, since the anime went on to cut basically any indication of Skeptic’s entire plan re: the footage of the League attacking, so why bother keeping the cameras? (Oh, right. Skeptic’s whole thing is cameras and information/disinformation. Skeptic for second-most screwed-by-the-anime MLA member.)

Additions

• Showed Toga having stood back up somewhere during Shigaraki’s explanation of their throw-Machia-against-the-MLA plan. A simply appalling choice. In the manga, she stays crouched down by Twice the entire time Shigaraki has his mask pulled off, because Toga cares about reassuring Jin-kun when he’s in a bad way.

• Rephrased Compress’s dialogue somewhat, also giving him a new line about the MLA’s forces in Deika when the League was still in the hills looking down at the city: “The so-called Meta Liberation Army has a force of 110,000 here.” I assume it was because the scene falls in a different episode than the tactical discussion did (in the manga, they’re the same chapter), so the anime was reminding the viewer of the stakes, but it’s potentially awkward because, er, no, the MLA categorically did not bring their entire army to Deika. We’ll find out as much for sure later, with the note that the regiment advisors weren’t in attendance because they were occupied at the bases they command, but even with only the knowledge we have here, Re-Destro’s statement about his numbers is that they’re scattered all over the country—hence the shot of Japan with a bunch of lights scattered across it to represent said numbers.           That said, to be (briefly) charitable, there’s no particular reason for the League to assume that, and they did discuss the possibility that there were going to have to fight 110,000 people. So it makes sense that Mr. C might state as much when recapping for the audience.

Chapter 225 – Interview with a Vampire

• Re-Destro talking about Deika’s geography and why they chose it strategically. The anime dropped so much about the MLA’s planning and information-gathering beforehand; it really made the MLA look ludicrously overconfident. And while they don’t lack for that trait, certainly,[2] this is also an organization that has meticulously grown its membership for generations right under Hero Society’s collective nose; you don’t get to where they are by being unduly foolhardy. Erasing so many scenes demonstrating their caution and forward-planning undercuts the threat they represent to both the League and society at large.           Also too, the descriptor of Deika as a nice, quiet, isolated little town in the mountains gives us some hints about how the MLA has avoided notice for so long, when you consider how the Hero business works: because so many people who get into heroism want to make it big, like celebrities, they don’t want to stick around small-town beats, and so the rural areas are understaffed.[3] That’s presumably why groups like the CRC and the MLA grow their numbers out in the boonies: much less attention from the Powers That Be. You can guess at some of that from how Spinner describes the place—“not too small, not too big”—and what Trumpet says about the percentage of the population that’s MLA, but RD adds that key “isolated” descriptor, and says that it’s a place where they “lay low.” That gives us some potential insight into how many—likely the majority—of the MLA came to their beliefs: by being raised to them, because their hometown was infiltrated by the MLA generations ago and they have literally never known anything else.

• RD’s phrasing, “Counter to point one,” when he makes his second point about the Noumu. He acknowledges that it’s counter-intuitive to his first argument, that he knows it would normally be an argument against that opening point, not in support. It’s just conversational padding, really, but “conversational padding” like that does a lot to distinguish character voice, so that not everyone talks the same way.

• A panel showing a trio of unnamed MLA warriors strategizing about how to divide their forces now that the League has split up. It’s the little cuts like this that gradually remove the agency of unnamed characters, such that they’re left looking like unthinking puppets instead of real people with the ability to register and respond to their circumstances. It also points towards the truth of what the MLA warriors are and one reason they’re so dangerous (for all that the manga itself will neglect this most egregiously later on): they’re trained in regiment tactics and accustomed to working in groups. This contrasts them both with villains, who might group together, but certainly don’t usually fight that way, and heroes, who are so unaccustomed to working in groups that it’s cited as part of the reason to have named super moves.

• Curious’s little pageboy-cut middle school kid line telling Toga to back off when Miss Curious is on the job. This is an early example of how defensive the MLA are of people above them in the hierarchy, an important thing Spinner will pick up on and attempt to use against Trumpet. Again, it’s little moments like this that both add some welcome notes of individuality to the MLA warriors (if only by virtue of Horikoshi and his assistants’ traditional talent for distinctive character design) while also fleshing out who the MLA are as a group, and contrasting them with the League.

• Deleted Toga’s line IDing her “on-the-go suck-suck mask,” but did insert a nice little bit of her expression shifting when she whipped it out. It lost a bit of the self-conscious silliness of her support item name in exchange for a cool little animation beat. I don’t dislike it, particularly, but I am, as previously stated, very leery of edits that make the League more polished in their villainy at the cost of their human foibles.

• Curious’s line about having come prepared to counter Toga’s moves, which was supposed to further reiterate that the MLA has done their research on the League; they didn’t just decide out of the blue to target the most notorious Villains in the country without studying up on them first and planning accordingly!

• Curious’s line about how she’s going to get started with some background info while her people use their meta-abilities to keep Toga and her buddies on the ropes. A marvelously characterful line! It speaks especially to that edge of formality the MLA brass observe that even as she’s ringleading this attack, Miss Curious is still set on going through her interview process step by established step.

Framing Shifts

• Made some of Curious’s lines spoken dialogue instead of internal monologue. That’s probably fine for when she’s waxing enthusiastic about Toga’s lack of hesitation in committing murder or how she’ll use Toga’s story to further the MLA’s agenda. It’s less fine when she’s rattling out the entire name, brand and patent status of her support item for no particular reason when Toga is already halfway through trying to knife her (that’ll be next chapter).

• The anime implied pretty firmly that Curious’s bombers died. And like, yeah, that’s always made more sense than the idea that anyone could survive something like that, but I hate it anyway. For one thing, it makes it even harder to credit the idea that Toga’s still on her feet afterward if Curious’s supposedly not-very-lethal explosions merk all her own people. People in this series survive ludicrous amounts of damage, and these random MLA devotees are no exception! For another, it leans into the narrative that the MLA higher-ups throw away the lives of their minions without the slightest care. It’s a lot harder to make that case when it’s explicit in the manga that Curious’s people survive the blood explosions—the blonde in the tracksuit is unharmed enough to snicker about it, and the noodle chef is even doing well enough to continue attacking! I’ve always been of the opinion that the MLA are, yes, willing to spend the lives of their underlings on attaining goals, if that’s what they think is necessary, but that is not at all the same as gleefully throwing them onto the pyre to watch them burn.

Additions

• Some individual shots of Mr. Compress, Dabi and Twice fending off or fleeing from various MLA types. A nice try on getting the group split up, but it feels kind of budget save-y, when we could have gotten actual animation of those fights instead.

• Inserted a quick shot of a headline about Toga’s first attack as Curious was rambling on about why she’s interested in Toga but not the League in general. Actually a fairly reasonable insertion, given how much text is crammed into her talk bubble in the manga while the dude standing next to her is already getting a knife in the neck.

Chapter 226 – Bloody Love

• A panel of interviewees talking about Toga’s first victim being sociable and popular. It gives a bit of context on what he was like, what people thought of him, but given that we know enough about Toga at this point to know that his popularity was entirely incidental to what she liked about him, it’s not a huge loss.

• The detail of the broadcasted interviews censoring Toga’s name. Considering how Japanese media normally treats minors accused of crimes, this is an eyebrow-raising change—the manga censors it because Japanese media outlets would have done the same. No idea why the anime didn’t, unless it’s another of those places where it would feel too “real,” to have something that so closely mirrors real life treatment of criminals?

• Everything about quirk counseling, and whoo boy, that is a loaded cut. There is exactly one other mention of quirk counseling anywhere in the manga, and, curiously enough, it also comes up in relation to a villain: in the U.A. faculty meeting after the USJ attack, Midnight muses that maybe Shigaraki never received quirk counseling in elementary school. It’s a weird little non sequitur there—exactly what sort of program did she expect could single-handedly make the difference between a well-adjusted adult and a gleefully murderous manchild with aims on killing Japan’s Number 1 Hero? Just over two hundred chapters later, we get a hint: a program designed to fit people “neatly into society’s little boxes.”           Quirk counseling, then, is not about helping children find healthy ways to process their quirks, but rather, about teaching children what is and is not acceptable in terms of quirk use—and as Curious says, Toga’s admiration of blood was never going to be acceptable.[4] This explanation doesn’t just tell us a lot about Toga—that she wasn’t only failed by the hysterical condemnation of her parents, but also by a society that had no interest in helping her if it didn’t see a use for her—but also provides some insight on the viewpoint of the Meta Liberation Army vis-à-vis mandatory state-funded programs that dictate what “normalcy” looks like to impressionable children.           Curious is, of course, not a particularly trustworthy narrator in this, as one might expect of someone who uses language like “society’s little boxes,” but it does track with Midnight’s earlier musing of, “Maybe the anti-social dude never took the program intended to make sure he was a functioning member of society.” That kind of statement—“State-sponsored educational programs are there to program children into becoming unthinking cogs of society, actually.”—is one that it’s all too easy to imagine the people with an eye on broadcast standards taking issue with, even coming as it does from the mouth of a villain.

• Curious’s line, “Let’s turn your death into a legendary tragedy, shall we?” and its accompanying visual of two different papers with imagined headlines. The dialogue doesn’t strike me as crucial—Curious’s fervent belief in Toga’s story is amply demonstrated elsewhere and her intent to turn that story into a legend reiterated in the line immediately following—but it is a shame to lose the headlines. They tell us, in Curious’s own words, exactly the tack she was planning to take in telling Toga’s story to the general public, without the constant namedropping of the Liberation Army that she does when talking about it in person. One headline in particular—The Price of Suppression: A String of Bloody Murders—is an especially useful reference for discussing whether the MLA actually wants, as is popularly claimed, completely unhindered quirk use, even for people like e.g. Muscular who want nothing more than to murder people with their quirks.[5]

• Curious’s initial wait what response to getting Floated, and her people’s focus shifting away from Toga and onto Curious instead. On a surface level, that focus shift helps explain why Toga’s able to zip around the ground and touch nearly twenty people before they even react: because they’re afraid for Curious. It also hurts the ongoing characterization of the MLA rank and file as being fanatically devoted to their higher-ups which, again, is something Spinner is supposed to notice later. It’s the worst kind of plot device if that devotion is completely told to us rather than consistently shown!

• Toga’s internal reflection that she’s seen Ochaco use her quirk, and knows how to use it. It’s obvious from the panel that she knows how to use it, but the manga implies that Toga transforming doesn’t automatically grant her an understanding of peoples’ quirks; it’s only in observation (and possibly love) that she can reach this particular unlock. Leaving out that information leaves open the possibility that she can just do this all the time now, with anybody she transforms into.

• The reaction from the surviving crowd to Curious’s death. See above re: STOP FUCKING ERASING HOW MUCH THE MLA CARES FOR EACH OTHER.

Framing Shifts

• When Toga bolts, Curious in the anime sounded serious, her expression alarmed, like she was actually worried that Toga might escape, even though her dialogue said just the opposite. Maybe you could say that she was afraid Toga would die before she got her statement, but given that she tried to kill the girl herself moments later, I’m skeptical of that claim. Regardless, in the manga, she never loses her smile, and she flashes a Liberation salute as she stands up to give chase. It’s a characterization note, that she’s so wildly confident about this that she never stops being completely enthralled with whatever Toga has to show her.

Chapter 227 – Sleepy

• The last of Toga’s conscious dialogue, about how she’s lost a lot of blood, is fading out, can’t move—but more notably, the way that this state of things makes her feel closer to “them,” that it’s “the same sensation.” And who is “they” here—her victims? The people she loves? More alarmingly, why does the line sound like she’s been this beat-up before, and remembers the sensation? Does that tie into e.g. her comment during the training camp that she doesn’t want to fight too many hero students at once because she doesn’t want to die? Has she actually been subject to this kind of violence before in the past? Does that tie into her still-unexplained ability to erase her presence? It’s an interestingly loaded little line, for being so vague, and illustrative of Toga’s mentality on becoming the people she loves. Which also lets the scene segue nicely into Re-Destro’s observation that, in Toga Himiko’s world, there’s no such thing as “other people.”           On which note, guess what else the anime cut?

• The entire fucking scene where Re-Destro actually reacts to Curious’ death, the motherfuckers. This lost:           1. RD’s talk about the way Toga sees the world and how that led to society casting her out, which he points to as evidence of said society clinging to old ideals even though the nature of humanity itself has changed. It calls back to his methodology with Detnerat, marrying his lines from the commercial to his overarching ideals; it also shows that he understood very well what Curious saw in Toga, and demonstrates that he can express that understanding and empathy even in the face of losing one of his closest allies.           2. Skeptic’s reaction to Curious’s death, which is pretty sparse, but at least present. He says she never should have been on the front lines—an excellent reminder to the people who’re always going on about how the MLA brass thinks themselves so above their followers: Curious was on the front lines, against the wishes of some of her peers!—and calls her a valuable resource.[6] You can theorize about Skeptic not caring for her beyond her usefulness to the cause, or just that Skeptic is a huge autist who processes his emotions differently than most, and isn’t going to stop to do that when there’s still a battle going on, but either way, you need this scene to do it accurately.           3. Speaking of people who process their emotions in unusual ways, as I said above, this scene also shows Re-Destro openly crying over the deaths of Curious and each and every warrior diving into battle with their hopes for the future. They’re not crocodile tears, either. As was the case with Miyashita, there’s no one in this room that Re-Destro would need to perform grief for: Skeptic clearly doesn’t see a use for tears right now, so I don’t see him expecting them from Re-Destro, and the only other person in the room is Giran, a hostage who the MLA—very probably Re-Destro himself—maimed! It’s not like RD’s tears are going to change Giran’s mind about him (indeed, Giran gets a comedic reaction beat at the absurdity of the dude who started all this up here crying about it)! But RD says life is precious and he cries anyway, briefly, before he ruthlessly turns it off.           RD’s valuing of human life—especially his own peoples’ lives—crops up in roundabout ways twice more, both leading the fight with Shigaraki (“It angers me.”) and ending it (“Any more would bring about meaningless death.”). This, though, is when he’s most open about it, to the degree that—as with Machia’s grief—it’s kind of off-putting and strange. Cutting it makes it that much easier for people to get entirely the wrong impression of RD as a character.           4. The delightful scene where Skeptic berates Giran about asking brainless questions and then answers his question anyway. Fuckin’ hell, why cut this?? So much of Skeptic’s character is in this scene! You get moments of his neuroticism later on, but never in so concentrated a burst as this (there’s one other sequence that could compete, but—spoilers—the anime cut that one, too). The exchange also explains the cameras placed throughout the city—which are visually referenced early on—and what the MLA is planning to do with their footage. Without that explanation, the audience has no idea how, exactly, the MLA was planning to use wiping out the League as a springboard for their grand return to the spotlight. That footage is the crucial part of how the rest of the country reacts to Deika in the Endeavor Agency Arc, and the anime never even mentioned it! The audience was just left to assume that all the media came in afterward, not that there was the slightest whiff of footage from the battle itself.           5. Once again brings up Re-Destro’s belief in the power of the heart to move other hearts. We get a bit of that in Curious’s flashback, but here he says it in his own words—as he will also bring it up to Shigaraki. Once again, Shigaraki is going to be challenged about his conviction, which ties back into what Spinner and Ujiko demanded from him earlier in the arc. With so

many people set to be grilling Shigaraki on this front, it tells us again what the arc is for: Shigaraki’s conviction, and him demonstrating it to the people who think he lacks it.

• The panel of Spinner asking how long they’ve been at it and Mr. Compress responding. This line helps manage the pacing, giving the audience an idea how much time is passing as we cut around to different places. It’s also, you know, more cut Spinner dialogue, and shows the beginnings of Shigaraki and Spinner getting split off from the rest by Shigaraki’s sleep-drunk staggering angling him off in a different direction. The rest of the scene is moved to after Toga’s fight with Curious, but not otherwise tampered with.

• The other big reaction to Curious’s death, which is Trumpet using it to rile up the crowd. The group that attacks Shigaraki isn’t just some free-roaming mob—they’re coming at him in a grief-stricken frenzy, which they’ve been goaded into by one of their leaders.           This sequence also introduces the campaign van—a vehicle that will have several more appearances—to events, and hints at Trumpet’s meta-ability. Further, it’s one of the scenes that outright states that the MLA is less an army than a religion, in Mr. Compress’s line about how Trumpet is like a preacher rallying his flock. That understanding—that the MLA may style themselves as an army, but what they really are is a cult—is key to the way the MLA members act, from the very bottom to the very top.

• Trimmed Shigaraki’s flashback down, cutting—among other things—the very first lines Hana speaks, and her namedrop. This moment is the first one Tomura gets back, and the very first thing we find out is that he was doing something he wasn’t supposed to be doing. The anime also failed to identify Shimura Nana’s relation to Tenko/Tomura and Hana—helpful to remind the audience of a plot thread they haven’t heard about since Kamino. It also cut out the silhouette of chubby baby Tenko and Tenko’s first line, asking why Hana’s showing him this, a line which clues us in that Hana was the impetus here, not Shigaraki as he was back then. Still not satisfied, it also cut the phrase, “Daddy said all that stuff,” which is a clear and ominous warning that there was some conflict going on between young Shigaraki and the Father whose dismembered hand he now wears on his face.

• Left the dialogue but cut the silhouette of an airborne Geten with his enormous ice fists coming in hot behind Dabi when he was smarming about it not being his style to take the pacifist route. It’s not crucial, since we see the fists again shortly (it’s the end of the chapter page, whereas the anime rolls right on into the continuation of the scene), but it’s a shame, since framing Dabi from below with this sudden presence behind him is a much more fun, dynamic angle than the dead-boring medium shot the anime used. Also too, it’s good foreshadowing for the fact that Geten can fly, since he certainly didn’t get that kind of air by jumping off the roof of the mini-mart across the street.

Framing Shifts

• The crowd attacking Tomura came at him from the back of the shot, whereas in the manga, they’re surging forth from the front; that is, the anime had Shigaraki between the crowd and the POV of the viewer, whereas the manga has the crowd interposing between the viewer and Shigaraki. It makes a huge difference in the impact! Running up from a nebulous background distance, the crowd looked small and futile. Crossing directly in front of the viewer as they attack Shigaraki makes them look like the crashing human wave that they are. But, you know, coming in from the front would mean they’d have to be animated with more detail, and again, Episode 109, more than any other episode in the arc, clearly didn’t have the budget to spare on such things.

• The moment Shigaraki first uses the spreading Decay is horrifically clear in the manga. It’s full of speed lines, Shigaraki moving so fast he decays a dude mid-word, but the impact itself is spread over two pages. We watch his hand literally cleaving through the leading attacker’s face, and then are encouraged to linger on the oversized panel below, the intricately drawn crowd, full of individual faces, still intact on the left, scattering to dust on the right, all fully lit, with Shigaraki—still drawn with speedlines to emphasize his movement—the focal figure in black at the center.           The anime rendered this moment in two stills—Shigaraki’s hand about to hit the lead attacker’s face, and then the crowd already decaying. There was virtually no movement to it, the crowd was so heavily silhouetted against a glare of daylight that it was difficult to tell what was going on, and the moment stayed on screen for only two seconds before Shigaraki landed and threw up, both actions favored with more animation than one of the signature moments of the entire arc. Hell, it even left the walls on either side of the alley intact, when the manga shows them dissolving into ash as well, decay traveling through the ground in a deadly, destructive radius around Shigaraki’s attack.           The anime ever-so-graciously allowed Spinner his line to explain to the audience what just happened, but I think that’s mostly because it would be genuinely difficult to parse if he didn’t. It also gave him a flashback to what we had literally just seen, except this time it wasn’t silhouetted for some reason, so at least the audience got another chance to look at it, I guess?           “Am I seeing things? Just now, his decay effect spread to people he wasn’t even touching!” Well, I guess we’ll have to take your word for it, Spinner.

Additions

• A quick shot of a camera, there and gone almost too fast to register. I want to compliment the anime for adding a camera back in, since it removed the shot of the cameras earlier, but honestly, given that it cut all the scenes about how and why the MLA was gathering footage, I really don’t know why it even bothered. Also too, the camera was gone so fast it felt more like a marker for a scene change—which it also was, segueing the scene from Toga collapsing (only to cut back to her later staggering down an alley) to Spinner and the rest still trying to hold their own—than it did something the audience was supposed to really notice.

Chapter 228 – Wounded Soul

• Twice in the opening pages left out scattered members of the MLA that were around for the start of the Dabi/Geten fight. Leaving them out raises the question of where all the people attacking went, but it’s also the first demonstration that Geten is a danger to his own allies. We don’t see any of them dying on-panel or anything, but we do see them having to dive frantically out of the way because Geten demonstrates no care to the collateral damage of his attacks.

• Cut a small flashback, presumably from Twice’s perspective, of finding the site where Toga and Curious’s fight concluded. You can see the ground covered in blood, and a body that looks a bit like Curious if you squint (distinguishable by the sleeves of her jacket), as well as a small group of people kneeling on the ground in various poses suggesting mourning and a paying of respects. Yet another shot demonstrating the depths of care these people have for their leaders, that they’ve completely let the battle fall by the wayside in favor of their grief.

• Drops the “those zealots” phrase from Twice’s, “I’ll rip those zealots limb from limb for this!” line. Damn, the anime really was determined to erase everything that even hints at the Liberation Army being something much creepier and more damaging than just an underground militia, huh?

Framing Shifts

• For all my complaints about the material, I generally like the voice acting quite a bit. I don’t love the first exchange between Dabi and Geten, though. It’s not a fault of the voice actors themselves, but rather the delivery. Geten was very cool and level-headed throughout, which is all right to a point, but he’s a gremlin under that troll parka, and this fight is where we hear him as close as we ever will to how he is before the multi-layered humbling he’s subject to over the course of this fight. It’s a bit of a shame to play him totally straight, without any of the snark he’s so clearly capable of—and without the tick upwards in vehemence his talk bubbles indicate in his last lines.           Meanwhile, it’s fine for Dabi to get more heated as the scene goes along, and indeed he does, but he also plays it pretty cool at first. You can tell in the shape of his talk bubbles that he’s completely unruffled during his delivery of that, “Consider this a freebie, just for you: ice melts,” line. The anime had him raising his voice for it, and it just loses a lot of the humor of Dabi’s own snark to have him yelling it instead of just laughingly stating it, voice barely raising enough to give his talk bubbles some straighter lines instead of being all undisturbed curves. (For comparison’s sake, it’s about the same level of angular as Geten’s, “You’d best not think your little campfire can melt my ice!” line, but the anime had Dabi shout his line, while Geten continued at the same unperturbed volume he’d maintained since the beginning.)

• As with Shigaraki’s first mass decay, the shot of Geten’s ice dragon did not make the impact on me in the anime that the manga did. I think it’s mostly the way the ice was colored? The claw’s pretty good, but the head looks blobby and indistinct, more like blue soft-serve than the shifting, sharp-edged, brilliantly bright sculpture-in-motion of the manga.

• Twice’s voice actor did his best to sell the scene of him finding Toga, but I wish they’d kept that tight close-up on his mouth when he says, “Give it up. The girl’s dead.” They animated him leaning closer to the camera, but that doesn’t have the sharpness of that sudden cut to being right there on his lips, like some malevolent thing is using them to speak words so terrible that they can’t even be associated with the rest of his face.

                                                          ---

Come back next time (and hopefully in less time) for Part Three, Episode 110: Sad Man's Parade.

FOOTNOTES

[1] We would, of course, have an even clearer idea of that had the anime not cut the scene of Spinner shouting in Shigaraki’s face.

[2] It seems particularly strange to me that Curious and RD both mention quirk evolution as a thing they know can happen in extreme circumstances, but didn’t predict that backing the League into a life-or-death corner might provoke one or two members to undergo exactly that evolution.

[3] Mount Lady is the obvious example, but you can look to places like the island in Heroes Rising, too: one hero, and when they retired, a group of high school kids had to go sub in for a while until a replacement could be arranged. It’s not like retirements just happen overnight; the Commission had to have known it was coming. Still, they had to scramble to find someone. It doesn’t suggest they had anybody just champing at the bit to take the post, you know?

[4] In Chapter 140, we see a young Tamaki Amajiki in a class called “quirk training.” It’s uncertain how connected this P.E.-like class is to quirk counseling, but Toga wouldn’t have been getting much help there, either, seeing as it’s all about figuring out how to use one’s quirk in a way that’s “useful to society.” I can think of some ways, but nothing that I expect would be very popular or liable to be explained to a grade schooler in a country with as long a history with ritual cleanliness as Japan. To a Shinto mindset, Transformation isn’t just off-putting or unhygienic; it’s spiritually unclean.

[5] The answer there being, no, obviously not, or Curious wouldn’t, in all apparent sincerity, be trying to characterize Toga using her quirk to murder people as an undesirable outcome, a cost society is paying for its current stance on quirk use. Yes, you can gather that much from her calling Toga a tragic girl, and Re-Destro concurring later, but listen, I will take every line I can get that I can use to push back against the wretchedly widespread idea that the kid whose name means Apocrypha is the be-all-end-all source on MLA ideology, somehow more reliable and trustworthy than every other MLA character combined, including Destro himself. I would very much like it if the anime had not deleted a bunch of my talking points while making good and sure to leave all Geten’s most damning lines intact.

[6] Not that an anime-only person would fully understand why some random reporter was all that valuable a resource, since the anime cut the explanation of what Curious actually does for a living.

[yennie-fer]

1st miscarriage: https://www.deviantart.com/faithwalkers/art/Miscarriage-865213383 2nd miscarriage: https://www.deviantart.com/faithwalkers/art/Miscarriage-The-Lost-Rainbow-888137225 Sharing our whole experience with this 3rd miscarriage. Be warned, compared to other times I have shared this, I have become a very bitter person. I’m very broken so yeah. Be warned. Didn't think I'd make another artwork in regards to this. But here we are. WARNING: There is TMI talk, trigger warnings For those who don’t know, we have lost two babies before this one. These losses are our only offspring. Today, we’re talking about our recent loss: Chily. Reason for that name was the most cravings I had was chilli and tomato stuff. We unfortunately don’t know the gender and I’ll get to that later on. I’m so devastated with this whole thing of not knowing!! 11 weeks!! I should know, right?! Don’t mention surrogate, adoption, ect. I don’t wanna hear it. It’s very inappropriate. If your relative had died, would I tell you to adopt a new one? Get outta here. Surrogate is very triggering for me. All I’d feel is jealousy that I can’t have the bond with a baby that way. I will not be answering those types of comments or messages because I will blow up. So please delete or unsend anything like that. There are other types of treatments, but I rather not think about it right now as seriously, THIS HAPPENED LAST WEEK. Don’t say try again. I really don’t want to think about it this time after having such a horrible experience. AND PLEASE, FOR THE LOVE OF GOD, refrain from saying “I’m sorry” “God needed them.” stuff. It’s so draining at this point. Please don’t come at me about my anger towards God with it all especially if you don’t understand. You have no right to say anything. My reasons are valid. I’m suffering from a lot of trauma. My whole life has been full of it so I can’t even get a break. I am not in the place to have anyone sympathize with me. This is raw feelings of anger and depression. This post is informative for people who may need it or come to understand the depth of it. Anyway… I will share you our experience. Before anything started with the bleeding, I was noticing my pregnancy symptoms were disappearing. Although, it was hard to tell as this was the furthest I’ve been along. There was a 50/50 chance of it being normal and not normal. In my case, it wasn’t normal. I always had it in the back of my mind that this would happen again. Even though I filled the colored boxes per week that “I can do this” I prepared myself for the worst so I could hurt less. I wish that were true as our experience with the ER wasn’t the greatest. I’ll get to that. So the symptoms I’ve noticed disappearing was the sensitivity in my breasts, the morning sickness, and loss of appetite. As a reminder, I have been very anal on taking my baby aspirin and prenatals every day. We don’t know what happened. One day, I told my husband, “This pregnancy is weird. I hardly crave anything.” Before, I had more food aversions but that also had disappeared a little bit too. And there was another incident where I had painful pregnancy diarrhea. I heard that was ok too, but just never know. But after being on the toilet, I touched my belly. The uterus part was sunken in. I don’t remember when that had occurred, but maybe that’s when Chily was dying. So come New Year’s Eve. I was in the mood and it was around 11ish pm. Sorry for the TMI, but we made love. Immediately afterwards, I started bleeding pink blood. So I was like oh, this happened faster. Because last time, I had it. It was normal. I had the ultrasound after the fact. Baby had a strong heartbeat. So before anyone says anything, no, sex didn’t cause this. I had so much blaming on myself with this. I thought it was the cause. I’ll get to that later. Anyway.. so I went to bed… but I woke up at 4AM. Something was off this time compared to last. I had a thick, red clottish thing. It wasn’t a clot, but it was thick blood. So I started panicking. Now, this was when I was starting to figure something was happening. I’ve prayed to God daily to not have me go through it again because I wouldn’t handle it. I prayed for protection of the baby and to have things normally. I guess my prayers were in vain. They always are when it comes to desperately wanting a life to be saved. I’ve learned that when I was 13 years old and lost my sister to cancer. It’s still the same old thing these days. Hard for me to see a miracle… But even then, I was trying to relax. I did my anxiety reducing exercises and it REALLY helped. My cat, Mew, she was acting strange. The strange feeling where she acted like every time a baby was dying. She knew the time I was pregnant to the time baby was dying. So I go to bed, trying to not think about anything. I think both my husband and I were in denial in our own ways. Both our emotions were tense. For the right reasons anyway… I fell asleep and had many nightmares. even before this incident, I’ve dreamt of losing this baby too. I try not to think about my dreams, but sadly, they come true when it comes to miscarriages. I’ve dreamt I was bleeding. I dreamt I was saying it’s happening again. The most vivid dream I’ve had, I was shouting out the window towards the heavens. There was an orange cat there. Not sure if it means anything, but, I screamed to God, “God, Don’t take this one too!!” Then I woke up to mild cramping. It was front to back. The cramps radiated down my legs. I shoulda put myself on bed rest that day (Saturday now), but I saw the blood was turning brown and lighter. Thought it was fine, but it wasn’t. 5PM: I was spotting a bit more brown right onto the pantyliner. I want to tell you, MOST cases brown is normal. HOWEVER, don’t let brown on a pantyliner think things are ok. And then Sunday morning came… Why didn’t I call anyone? Well, the gyno’s closed. Every time this friggin happens, it’s on a weekend!! I can’t believe it… So Sunday morning was when things were turning south and I had no clue. It was still brown, but I wiped and saw mini clots and tissue. I was starting to believe something was wrong, but again, denial. Then it turned bright red. I wanted to not believe it. Then, January 3rd came. January 3rd, the day the miscarriage was starting to commence. I’ve called the gyno first thing in the morning. My anxiety was peaking. They made a note and said to still keep my appointment on the 7th. Come 12PM, I was bleeding thicker with more thick tissue. I was cramping front and back more. Some of the cramps became somewhat severe. I called the gyno. My heart sunk as they told me to go to the ER… This ER experience had been nothing but awful. The wait time was torturous. My pains kept coming and going. It was packed because of COVID cases and other stuff. The beds were filled. It wasn’t like our other times we were there. Last two times, I had priority and went in. An hour later, they did bloodwork and a urine test. The lady came for the urine an HOUR later. So now it was about 3ish. Two more hours of waiting and I’ve started to have contractions. They weren’t as bad as they were with our last miscarriage daughter’s, but it was pretty bad. I went to the bathroom, but nothing there. I thought it was strange how the bleeding was stopping and I was in so much pain… Finally, I heard my last name called in the bathroom. I didn’t bother washing my hands. (I sanitized them as soon as I got into the room) But I couldn’t walk. It was too painful. They grabbed a wheelchair and I was off. In the room, I was able to get into the bed to finally lie back. The waiting room chairs were SO uncomfortable to sit in for hours. And yes, I did take my prenatals and baby aspirin. It didn’t matter at this point. So the doctor came into the room to check it my cervix was dilated. I was in too much pain at this point and said I couldn’t do it. Sadly, my ER doctor had to leave the room and go help a trauma patient. I was already crying a lot because I heard my hCG was at 6000. Now if you look at the charts online for 11 weeks, the hCG is no where near that. Our baby’s levels were going down. I was devastated. </3 So, my husband and I were hopelessly in the room. I groaned and had a heavy need for some painkillers. The contractions sucked. Just like with our last angel baby, I felt a pop. It hurt. Last pregnancy, I had that with our daughter too when going into early labor. I would feel a hot gush of what I thought to be blood coming out of me. “It’s happening…!” I cried out, remembering the awful feeling of losing our two other babies. Our first one, Jellybean, the water didn’t break. I just massively soaked a pad in seconds. I thought that happened with our daughter and this one. But I finally figured it out it was indeed my water breaking… I was confused, at first, to see no massive blood. Like I was with Rosalina (our daughter)… so I went to touch down there to see. Clear, watery liquid. It soaked my panties. “I think..my..water broke…” i stammered to my husband. More denial. I can’t remember when but they gave me throw away underwear to put on a new pad. Practically useless for later on. And then, I felt like I hadda pee pretty badly. He helped me to the bathroom and I locked the door. I wished I didn’t go alone because I didn’t think this would happen. I tried to pee, but I’ve felt pressure. A lot. It actually stopped my urine stream. This was a first for me. But I had that familiar feeling when I passed our daughter at home. I hated to do this in the hospital bathroom!! I took the toilet paper as a futile attempt to catch what I thought was the sac. (It was the placenta WITHOUT the baby but I found out later on.) So My hands were soiled in blood. Blood was all over the floor. I felt helpless as i cried, seeing what was in my hand. I saw something else in the toilet and wanted to see if that was our baby. I kept calling for my husband like an idiot. The door was locked and I was tempted to press emergency. But I motioned myself slowly to the door. Using my elbow to open it. Thankfully, the bathroom was right next to my room. I was panicking as I needed someone to salvage whatever was in the toilet. I was given a glove to dig in the toilet. All I saw was a clot… But I feel like I should have look more thoroughly. I dunno if I had flushed the baby down the toilet. It’s still friggin haunting me because I really wanted to see the baby somehow. this was one of the parts where I thought I might have passed Chily. And so, I was taken back to the room. The throw away underwear was getting soaked. I was getting so much pain. Took forever for them to bring me the pain medication. At this point, I’ve had no food nor water for awhile now. They didn’t even put fluid IV in me. Which would have been friggin nice. I was severely dehydrated. The last two hospital visits for our previous losses, they had given me IV. Anyway, so the nurse came in and she discovered I had no IV for my medication. You can see how very chaotic and disorganized the ER was. It was a nightmare so I can kinda not fully blame them for some stuff with the chaos. But the IV was put in my upper arm. I was kinda scared since I never had it up THAT high before. It hurt, but it wasn’t so bad. What freaked me out was my arm was turning friggin purple from the band. I was freaking out to have it removed. So she did. My dang hand was looking a little shriveled up. They gave me three meds. One for nausea. One for inflammation. And friggin morphine. Look, I have never taken morphine in my life and I hated it. I felt very confused and hot. It made my anxiety rose. It was a rush. I hated it. Wouldn’t do it again. We were told the ultrasound was going to be brought to us, but it wasn’t… So the door was kinda creaked opened and I saw the bathroom across our room wasn’t cleaned. Felt bad for this guy who walked into it to see my blood massacre in there. Just to hear him say, “Omg…” I had a clot trying to come out, but it was stuck. They put a bowl underneath me for me to pee and push it out. I couldn’t. I couldn’t pee at all as there was like a blockage. i was finally wheeled to the ultrasound room and I was pushing. Just nothing. Morphine made my pain go away, but I still would never do it again. So I went into the ultrasound room. Got onto the bed and something came out of me. The lady wouldn’t lemme look to see if it was baby or not. I dunno why the frig she didn’t. Like what would hurt if I were to evaluate it myself?? So she phoned the doctor to come look. She was the good doctor who was always honest and kind. I wished she was around to do the whole thing honestly. She told me it was a clot and that’s all. So she left me with the ultratech lady. Did topical ultrasound and she said there was huge clots inside me. She had me use the bathroom to push it out. This was where she was helpful. She had taught me how to breathe and stuff to release the clots. SO MUCH came outta me. Now, I dunno if baby was among it all… she set up a toilet bowl thingy to catch everything. I had large clots that were size of a lemon and other sizes. She reassured (lied) to me that she would have the doctor come in to evaluate to see if baby was in there. She had no containers in the room to move it to the next room. I hated it because she was nice and I friggin fell for it. I did a pelvic ultrasound and pain wasn’t so bad with it. She had to see if there’s anything leftover. Return to the room with my husband in it… a couple hours later, the doctor came to get me discharged. I’m like wait… what about the stuff in the room? What about the baby?! A look of confusion washed over her face. Wow. Guess what? Ultratech person didn’t tell her anything. The doctor didn’t evaluate it, the ultratech lady DID. Why did she when she needed the doctor to look at the big clot yet she thought to look herself?! Even when I told my gyno on the phone, they seemed surprised they didn’t gather anything over there. So I gave myself a lot of self-blame from that. I wished I could have looked more thoroughly or even myself in the ultrasound room. I’ve talked to my therapist so she made me feel better about that. When going through something traumatic, it’s understandable. We finally got discharged around 11PM after being there for 10 hours. Went without food and water for 5 hours. So recovery from Tuesday-Thursday had been rough. Not many know how someone is able to recover after a miscarriage. You still bleed, have pain and very weak. I’ve had peeing issues because of being severely dehydrated. My blood sugar was low. Everything with that is ok now. January 6 was the worst day. I was having so much pain. I’ve passed more clots and tissue. We’d like to believe the tissue is the baby because it looked similar. So maybe it was or not. I’m going with was because it helped give us more closure. Anyway, recovering sucked. I could hardly move. Using the bathroom hurts like someone stabbing my butt. I can’t do dishes, laundry and other simple things. My husband and I get overwhelmed with it. He has work to do and I understand that. Our friend has been great. He had vacuumed our house and did the dishes. So very thankful for him. A lot of people who hadn’t been through it doesn’t think about that stuff. Well, now I’m telling you. It’s easy to say you’re here to talk to us, but when it comes to needing help with things, the harsh reality is you’re alone. I don’t like asking for help. Not at all. Maybe it’s the fact I wanted people to awful as I’m sinking into postpartum depression and feel ashamed. But yeah, don’t feel guilted into helping just because I have addressed it. Again, this is a informative post. If you ever have a friend who goes through a MC, I can’t stress it enough they would need help in a physical way. Anyway… so my update for January 7th So they're doing bloodwork on my husband and I to see if there's any problems between us... they want me to go back on birth control after my first period were to come. And then they will do 3D ultrasound on my uterus to also see it there's a uterus issue. They brought up adoption if there's actually no hope so I dunno. I don't have to do weekly bloodwork. I'd have to do a pregnancy test hCG is done to see if it's negative then start birth control pill when period starts. The bloodwork they’re doing is chromosome (for both of us) and lupus (me). The 3D ultrasound will be done after my first period. It will see if my uterus is abnormally shaped… or if there’s any other issues causing it. They will check for blood issues. I dunno. I am feeling sad even though they're trying to get to the bottom of this and I feel like my body's so broken...and just mentioning adoption I dunno anymore. They figured since the last baby had genetic issues, this one did too. And the first one didn't form properly. And the gyno asked me if I still have the pregnancy tissue and she said she could take it but they're already at the funeral home so that made me cry too. We don’t have answers yet. But we will… in time. Sigh. So I hope whoever reads this is more informed. This isn’t fun and I already feel the postpartum depression hitting me. I’m trying to fight my mind and it’s rough. And if anyone is insensitive, I will block you. Not sorry. In conclusion… Even though we never found out Chily’s gender, we still love them whether they were a girl or boy. :( I really felt they were a she. But we don’t know. Sorry, there’s a lot of emotional conflict in this whole post. And please help me to know what to do with postpartum depression. It’s already hitting me. Thanks for reading. Here's the brutal part of the story. IF YOU WANT THE RAW DETAILS OF THE STORY. IT IS GRAPHIC SO BE WARNED: https://community.whattoexpect.com/forums/ttc-pregnancy-after-a-loss/topic/not-sure-if-this-is-the-end-for-our-ttc-journey-heres-our-miscarriage-story-127285325.html

Video: https://www.tiktok.com/@yenniefer/video/7052444082894867759

[2manyfandoms2count]

Dearest Family

So, the title of episode 21, huh? My mind went straight to angst, even if I'm doing my best to rationalise it.

Non angsty theory: It's around New Year's (because of this Insta post's caption), the family comes to visit, you've got Gina, Rolland and Wang Cheng visiting together, tensions arise, perfect fodder for Shadowmoth's akumas.

Angstier theory: mini fic under the cut

“Tom, come quickly!”

Sabine’s panicked voice had her husband run up the stairs to Marinette’s room. She turned towards him with dewy eyes as he emerged through the trap door, and simply handed him a sheet of paper.

Sabine hadn’t meant to read the letter. She obviously hadn’t been meant to, either. She’d inadvertently knocked over Marinette’s paper basket when she’d wanted to empty it, and caught sight of a little doodle of her family at the bottom of one of the paper balls: Tom, Marinette and her, all smiling, surrounded by little hearts.

She should have resisted her curiosity, but her daughter’s art had always been her weakness. She couldn’t help it: even if Marinette deemed it wasn’t good enough, Sabine's motherly instinct told her to gather all the scraps of creativity she could find. She knew her (not so) little girl would appreciate it someday. She’d been so happy when she’d found her knitting fairy sketches again.

Tom held the drafted letter low enough that she could read it again.

"Maman chérie, mon Papa adoré, Chère Famille,

If you're reading this, then it’s already too late. then I must already be gone. then I'm sorry. I'm sorry I lied to you for so long, and I'm sorry to have let you down. I'm sorry I couldn't tell you what I was preparing I had no other choice. I really wish I could’ve stayed

I love you.”

She finished taking in the contents of the crumpled, tear-stained sheet of paper just as it fell out of Tom's hands, and she felt her legs buckle under her. Tom caught her in his strong arms, but when she looked up, she saw the tears in his eyes.

She looked around her, and noticed that all of Marinette’s pictures of her friends, of Adrien, were gone. That everything was neatly tidied up, with no trace of her usual bustling activity. Sabine felt her heart tighten in her chest as she saw a single envelope stick out of one of the books on her shelf.

Her gaze lingered on it, attracting Tom’s attention to it as well. He reached over to pull it out, keeping a secure hand on her back.

♡ Maman & Papa ♡, they both read. The envelope was sealed with a heart-shaped sticker. Neither dared open it.

“Where’s Marinette?” Tom’s voice was hoarse as he voiced the question she didn’t know if she wanted the answer to.

“She said she was going to spend the afternoon at Alya’s, before dinner with the family,” she replied with a flat voice.

“I’m sure there’s nothing to worry about, then.” Tom stood straighter and wiped his eyes. “It must all be a misunderstanding.”

“Yes, there must be some kind of explanation,” she said quietly, her mind racing. Marinette often had creative writing assignments; surely this must have been one of them. “I’ll just call her to make sure she made it safely. There have been quite a few Akuma attacks lately, you never know.”

“Thank you.” Tom let out a relieved sigh as she pulled out from his embrace and dialled their daughter’s number, putting the call on speaker.

“You’ve reached Marinette! Leave a message. BEEP!”

Sabine shook her head and looked up to Tom.

“She’s probably just having fun. She doesn’t spend a lot of time on her phone.” He rubbed her back soothingly, although worry still filled his eyes.

“Should we try calling Alya?”

“Well, it can’t hurt…” He scratched the back of his head.

She scrolled through her contacts until she found the relevant number, which she'd had since Marinette's surprise birthday party. She'd been so happy, then.

“Hello?�� Alya’s voice sounded after three excruciating tones.

“Hello Alya? It’s Sabine, Marinette’s mother.”

“Mrs Cheng! What a nice surprise, how are you?” The young girl’s voice was warm and joyful as always, making her friend’s parents relax a little.

“Good, thank you! I was just wondering if I could speak to Marinette, about, um, her grandparents coming over.” Sabine tried to keep her voice as level as possible.

“Oh, er, I’d love to help you with that, but she’s not with me.”

“Weren’t you two spending time together today?” Sabine insisted.

“Oh no, we’re hanging out tomorrow! She said she had a family thing today. Are you sure everything’s alright?”

Sabine’s phone slipped out of her hand and she felt a single tear roll down her cheek.

She knew Marinette had her secrets, and she respected them. She’d been a teenager before her, she could understand.

I really wish I could have stayed. The words in her letter came back in full strength, knocking the wind out of her.

She fell to her knees, bringing Tom down with her.

Then the world went dark, but for a purple butterfly.

--

Meanwhile, I imagine Marinette skipping around the Tuileries, organising a surprise picnic for her family (who is also visiting in the angstier version). That letter was a draft for the Fu-like letter she wants to leave out for her parents, but it was too painful and she abandoned her project to write it. The envelope holds a letter with a handmade voucher for, like, a game of UMS with her parents.

[l-egionaire]

Owl House Fanfic - Can't Hurt Her

"Ha-ha! Not fast enough Luz-er!"

"Give it back!" 

Luz's cries fell on deaf ears as the large jock she'd been running at  tossed her Azura novel over her head and into the waiting arms of the cheerleader standing at the other end of the hall. Around them, a crowd of students laughed as Luz turned around and raced towards the cheerleader.

The whole mess had started just a few minutes ago. Luz had been walking through the halls,  her face deep in the latest Good Witch Azura book. She'd saved up for a month to get the special edition with the maps of Azura's home and exclusive wraparound cover art. Unfortunately, Luz had been so wrapped up in reading that she hadn't been paying attention to where she was walking and accidentally bumped into someone, causing her to fall to the ground. She looked up and, to her horror, saw that the person she’d walked into was Allison Greer.  Head cheerleader, most popular girl in school, and person who delighted in picking on her at every opportunity. Behind her was her usual entourage of jocks, cheerleaders, and other assorted cool kids.

Allison gave Luz her usual “your existence is bothering me” glare. “Watch where you’re going, Noceda.”

Hoping to avoid yet  another humiliating encounter with the girl, Luz muttered out an apology and quickly scrambled to pick up her things that had fallen to the floor. But before she could pick up her new Azura book, Allison snatched it up.

"Hey!"

Allison flipped open the book and rifled through the pages. "Jeeze, is this the kind of nerdy junk you’re always looking at?” In an overly dramatic and sarcastic tone she recited “Azura swept Hecate into her arms, her trembling fingers sweeping the hair out of Hecate’s face so that she could see her deep blue eyes. 'Oh Hecate! I’m so glad that you’re alright! I couldn’t bear to imagine life without you!' Allison and her friends all laughed. “Really riveting.”

Luz sighed, used to this kind of thing by now. “Can I just have it back please?”

Unfortunately for Luz, Allison’s face got the smirk she always had when she was about to do something mean. 

“Aw but I’m not done reading it. Although, it might be easier without this lame cover.” Allison used her manicured nails to begin scratching the cover off the book.

Luz panicked. “Stop!” She ran at Allison to try and take her book back but Allison noticed and threw the book over to one of the jocks near her causing Luz to turn around and go towards him instead.

This led to the humiliating game of back and forth Luz was currently engaged in. The crowd had gathered after a few minutes to indulge in her embarrassment.

After  charging the jock once more, only for him to chuck the book to Allison, Luz finally stopped in the middle area between them and cried to the cheerleader. “Please! Just give me my book back.”

Allison looked at her for a moment before sighing. “Fine.”

Luz’s chest filled with glee. She ignored the sound of the crowd groaning in disappointment and walked straight to Allison, her hands outstretched. “Thank you!”

But, rather than return the book to Luz, Allison once again gave her her signature evil smirk. Her eyes then locked on to something behind her.

“You know Noceda, I’ve got to admit. After only reading a few pages of this lame book, it seems like garbage. So...I’d say it belongs in the trash!”

With one last strong throw, Allison hurled the book into an arc in the air until it landed into an open garbage can.

Luz cried out in shock, “No!” She bolted to the trashcan and hurled herself halfway into it,  clawing through the trash to find her lost novel. After a few seconds, her hand found the books spine. But before she could pull herself out, she felt someone grab hold of her legs, lift them up, and stuffing her fully into the trash can before putting the lid on top of the can, leaving Luz surrounded by stink and trash.

Even from inside the can Luz could hear the rest of the students laughing at her.

"Well, that's two pieces of garbage that got thrown away." She heard Allison say.

                                                                 __

Luz trudged down the street, garbage juice soaked into her clothes and tears running down her face.

After managing to pull herself out of the garbage, Luz had unfortunately run into the school principal. She'd tried to explain what had happened with Allison but, as usual, he didn't believe her and assumed Luz had gone dumpster diving to look for elves or something else strange she usually did.  So he'd sent her home to change out of her dirty, smelly clothes. And worst of all, her brand new Azura book was ruined!

Beneath the sadness, humiliation, and pain Luz had stored up from today, one other emotion bubbled to the top.

Rage.

She couldn't do this anymore. She'd tried hard to ignore the bullying and just make the best of her school days but this was the last straw. She was going to call her mom, tell her what happened and she'd…..do something. Tell the principal to believe her? Pull her out of school? She didn't know. All Luz knew was that she couldn't keep pretending things were okay at school. She had to come clean.

Soon, Luz arrived at her house. She unlocked and opened the door only for her eyes to widen in shock at the sight of her mom sitting asleep upright on the couch, her head laid back and drool leaking from her mouth.

Luz walked over and gently shook her mother's arm. "Mamá?

Camila immediately shot awake and blinked tiredly around her before noticing Luz. "Whah!? Oh, ugh, I'm sorry Mija."

"Are you okay? What are you doing home so early?"

"Oh, I'm just tired. I've been working so much this week that I've barely gotten any sleep. " Camila stood up from the couch and yawned before slouching over. "And after I accidentally brought a doctor a baked potatoe instead if the replacement spleen he needed he may have suggested I go home and get some rest.

Luz let out a small chuckle but then actually noticed how worn out her mother was. There were heavy bags under her eyes, her whole body sagged with exhaustion. Even her voice sounded haggard and weary.

"Mamá, are you sure you're okay?" Luz asked worriedly.

"Si, Si, I'm fine. But, what are you doing home so early?" Camila rubbed her eyes then looked at Luz again. She then seemed to notice the stains on her clothes. "What happened?" She then sniffed the air, cringed and held her nose. "And why do you smell so bad?"

Luz suddenly remembered what had happened and clenched her fists. This was perfect. She'd been planning to just call her mom at work but now she could tell her to her face-

And make her have to deal with even more. 

That took the wind out of Luz's sails. She once again looked at her mother and took in her still lingering signs of exhaustion.

Her mamá had already been pushing herself so hard at work to bring home money and keep a roof over their heads. And now Luz was going to make her have to deal with her problems too?

Luz sighed internally and plastered a sheepish smile onto her face. 

"Oh that. I, uh, dropped my new Azura book into the trash so I went into the trashcan to get it back."

Camila groaned. "Luz, I've told you before. You can't go rummaging through the garbage! Now look at you. You got your school clothes ruined. "

Luz laughed weakly, struggling to keep her false grin. "Heh, heh, sorry mom. I just...couldn't help myself. You know how I am."

[katytheinspiredworkaholic]

one night stand au for the ask game! (if ur still playing lols)

Yes I most definitely am! (Sorry this took us a sec, I had to consult with my better half 💕 )

This one has been unintentionally underwraps for months, but we work on it pretty much every night. This is a HotchReid roleplay fic, set in an AU where Reid doesn't join the BAU until season 3. And ends up meeting/sleeping with Hotch literally the night before his first day. But they don't know they will be working together when they do, not until Reid is walking into Hotch's office the next morning. And as hard as they try to have that be the end of it -- Hotch is his boss after all, they just can't be doing this -- they find themselves breaking the rules they set down for themselves. Again, and again, and again.

There's so much sex in this, we've already written at least 250k words and we're still going. It's so good. But it is... a lot of sex.

The lovely @spencehotchner writes for Hotch, and I'm writing for Spencer.

With +250k in my docs I feel like I kind of have to include a snippet, so it's below the cut. It's safe for work, sorry folks, just super long. Because I ramble like a mofo so my entries are so, so long. We still need to edit/beta everything but we do plan to post it at some point. Some day. It's too good to keep to ourselves.

--

Aaron smiles up at him goofily as Spencer tugs him up. "Mm, I'm coming, I'm coming." He scrambles up and follows him.

He would make breakfast if he could. He would make it so good, and kiss Spencer over coffee, and get to know him all day. He’d ask all the questions he wants to ask-- what makes him tick. What puts that beautiful smile on his face. What makes his brain whir, and his heart spin, and his body go electric. He wants to know all of the things that turn Spencer on, even outside of sex. He wants to know what he wakes up for in the morning. What he tastes like after a good cup of coffee.

Fuck work.

"What time do you get off work?" he asks.

Spencer turns to him, eyes wide and... hopeful. Fuck. Aaron is watching him, with this content and appraising look, like he's thinking of things they don't have time for -- not just the sexy things, but other things. He'd said something about coffee the night before, and for the first time since Spencer got word he'd been offered the position at the BAU, he really wished he didn't have to start today. He'd been looking forward to it for weeks.

But all he wants right now is to drink coffee with Aaron in his kitchen.

"Um, well -- first day and all. New team, new boss. Usually I'm nine to five, normal hours, but I don't know how late I'll be there or... if I'll be off early," he glances at Aaron from beneath his lashes, fingers still tangled together, shower beating against the tile behind them and steaming up the room. He pulls the man with him beneath the spray, straight into a kiss that's wet and slick as the shower warms them and sluices down their skin. 

He tries to pretend he isn't still shaking a little, aftershock tremors of their morning sex, and nerves about what Aaron is going to ask him. If he's going to ask him. 

"Did you have something in mind?" he dares to ask, and it's quiet and barely heard over the shower, but Spencer does ask it. He's proud of himself for that. The affect Aaron is already having on him is palpable, and Spencer likes it -- likes the way Aaron makes him feel. In general, and about himself.

Aaron hums, placing a small kiss on his lips, hiding a smile. "Yeah, well. There's this thing called dinner that people often do at night. I was planning on having it. Was wondering if you'd maybe join me."

It’s not subtle, not in the slightest, but Aaron is through with subtle for the moment. He’s ready to lay it out on the line, here. I want you, I know you want me.

Spencer's heart is about to beat out of his throat, and he smiles so wide he's all teeth and upturned lips and a deluge of pecks to Aaron's own smile that he tries to hide from him. They're basically the same height, the man can't hide a thing from Spencer when they are pressed this close.

"I'd love to," he beams, kissing him again a little deeper, a little more playful, and he's going to make them both late at this rate. But God, does Spencer love kissing Aaron. "I'd love nothing more."

Aaron smiles, pinching his side playfully. "Yeah? Well, I guess that means I'll have to get your number."

Aaron can imagine it now-- being on a case, seeing Spencer’s number on the device in his hand as he texts him good night. Them talking throughout the day today, in the future, little check ins on each other, because Aaron is sure he’s not going to be able to get this boy off his mind. It’ll be a struggle to do anything but text him all day.

He runs a hand through Spencer’s wet curls, playing with the ends of the strands, trying to memorize the way the shower’s steam paints a blush on Spencer’s cheekbones. Watercolor. Aaron could see him as a work of art.

God, he had to be crazy. But going home at night with a random stranger was crazy for him. Standing in his shower the next morning was crazy for him. Asking for his number was crazy for him.

Crazy felt good.

"Play your cards right, you might even get my last name," Spencer says cheekily, giggling and dodging out of the way as Aaron tries to pinch his side again. 

But he's... so happy, so delirious with it, that nothing could ruin his day now. Because he was going to have dinner with Aaron after his first day at work for the BAU, which he'd been dreaming about since Jason Gideon used it a lure to recruit him into the FBI just after his second Ph.D. 

For the first time, in a long time, his life felt pretty perfect.

Aaron grins and steals another long, slow kiss from him, feeling light and airy and good.

Fucking hell, does he feel good.

They get out of the shower and Aaron dresses as quickly as he can, because he really does need to go. As soon as he's dressed, though, he's pulling a half dressed Spencer into his arms to kiss him again.

Spencer manages to get into briefs and slacks and is trying to color coordinate some kind of dress shirt and sweater combination with a tie (literally everything is clean, this shouldn't be this hard) when Aaron is there pulling him into a searing kiss. Still damp from the shower, dressed in his clothes from last night, smiling against his mouth and Spencer can't help how he huffs out a laugh and kisses back with just as much enthusiasm. 

He really didn't want the man to go. But it was quickly approaching 7:00a.m. and D.C. traffic had to be hell, even with a cab. Spencer had always taken the train when he was at MIT, the East coast had a well established system. So he'd decided the week prior he would just do the same here and save himself the daily morning anxiety attack of trying to make it to work on time on his own. That's what public transportation was for. Regulated, mass transit. Set arrival and departure times. A soothing balm if there ever was one.

"Give me your phone," he says with a smile, still so close he basically speaks against Aaron's mouth. He takes the offered iPhone and puts his number in under his name, just his first name. Ready to make the man earn the rest of his personal information.

Maybe, if dinner went well, they'd have... all night to get to know each other. Was it too much to hope Aaron would stay the night again? Probably, but Spencer was in a dreaming mood. Reach for the stars, might as well. With everything going so well, it was only a matter of time before something happened to interfere.

God, he hoped they didn't catch a case on his first day.

Aaron smiles down at the name on his screen. Spencer. He pulls him into one more final kiss, his head spinning pleasantly. There will be more where that came from, he reminds himself. Prays hard in that moment to whoever is listening that he’ll be able to make it to... 

"Tonight," he promises. "I'll see you then."

--

The BAU Section Chief, SES Erin Strauss, is the one to greet Spencer when he arrives at the FBI building in Quantico. She's a stern woman, but friendly enough for someone in such a position of authority, and she seems very pleased that Spencer is there to join the team. Calls him 'Dr. Reid' often enough he knows either Gideon or his former team leader had mentioned it was something he was particular about -- or she was more concerned about his appeal politically than what he can do for the team.

He didn't let it sour his mood, though, because the morning had just been... too good to be ruined by something as trivial as that. Spencer had gotten the job, he was there in the building, had just received his badge and his gun and his ID card for the key-padded doors and a whole slew of other orientation day milestones.

And now he was on the seventh floor, about to walk into the Behavior Analysis Unit, where he can see people milling about busy as worker bees and his chest swells with nervousness and excitement and too many emotions to name. 

If not for Aaron, and their amazing night and morning together, Spencer would be all nerves and worry -- but the morning sex alone was enough to knock a lot of that tension out of his spine and shoulders. He was ready for today, more ready than he'd ever thought he'd be.

Chief Strauss leads him into the 'bullpen', as she calls it, a lower level agent holding the door open for both of them, and then she's leading him to a cluster of desks that must be part of the new team he's joining.

"Good morning," she says, startling a trio that was talking animatedly over coffee -- and then all eyes are on Spencer. "This is Dr. Spencer Reid, I'm sure you were expecting him. Is Agent Hotchner in, yet?"

The three standing there very obviously fight rolling their eyes, and Spencer gets the feeling it's not about him or his title as 'Dr. Reid' -- or he hopes not anyway. His hopes are confirmed when a pretty, petite blonde smiles sweetly and sincerely at him and introduces herself as "Jennifer Jareau, but call me JJ", the communication liaison for the unit. A position Spencer wasn't aware existed, but he could definitely see the merits of it. Then, she addressed Chief Strauss.

"Hotch is always here by 8:00 a.m." she says, in a way that was somehow not condescending, but probably should have been. "He'll be up in his office waiting for you, ma'am."

"Thank you. Agent Morgan. Agent Prentiss." She nods to the others, and Spencer merely waves and grimaces a smile, wanting to actually introduce himself and hoping the others understand at least a little bit. He isn't sure he can actually say no to the woman who was his boss's boss. 

"Erin, are you going to let him meet anyone?" says a voice from above them, just a half a level above the bullpen where offices line the walls -- and it's fucking David Rossi. Standing there, in the flesh, and Spencer is actually a little starstruck. Since when had David Rossi come out of retirement? He knows he's gaping a little bit, mouth parted on a million and one questions to ask the man, but at Chief Strauss's huff of indignation, he lets his jaw snap shut. 

Later. He can ask later. 

"Is Agent Hotcher ready for Dr. Reid? I'm sure you all have a case to go over," she says in a drone, and Spencer's stomach drops at that. Fuck, he hopes they don't have a case. He... has a date. That would probably be a bad excuse.

"I don't know," David Rossi says in a teasing lilt, then merely turns to the side and speaks into an open office door. "Hotch, you ready for Dr. Reid." 

Spencer is blushing down to his roots, and Rossi merely winks at him to show he's joking. Apparently, Chief Strauss was being over the top and not just like this all the time. That kind of makes the situation worse, in his opinion.

Strauss doesn't wait for an answer, and starts up the stairs with Spencer following and trying to get used to the team dynamic. David Rossi actually pats him on the shoulder as he tries to slip by. "Don't worry, he's all bark and only a little bite. And I'm pretty sure he still hasn't read your file yet." 

Well, that's not exactly promising.

Aaron still manages to show up about 15 minutes earlier than he had planned on. He had an extra suit at the locker in the office, and just went straight there to get dressed.

Which, of course, meant he had to run into David.

"So," David says, a shit-eating grin on his face. "Someone didn't need a ride home last night."

Aaron keeps his face stoic as he adjusts his tie, sitting down at his desk. "Do you need something, Dave?"

"Who was she?" David just barrels on, raising an eyebrow. "I wasn't under the impression that you were on the prowl last night, but I was apparently wrong."

Aaron stares him down.

"That good, huh?" Dave just grins, and grins and grins, and Aaron doesn't let the fact that he's had the most amazing morning in years show through on his face. Nothing can take away the fact that, on his phone, there's a number with the name Spencer beside it.

"I'm an adult," Aaron says, simple as that. "Now, can you leave? I still have to go over the--"

"Oh, he's here!" Dave says, looking out the door. Aaron's blinds are closed, and he raises an eyebrow. "Oh, he's young. Erin are you going to let him meet anyone?" David says as he steps out of the door.

Aaron laughs to himself, straightens his tie again, prepares himself to meet the newest team member. He hopes whoever this is will be good for him-- good for the team. He's nervous. He loves his team, thinks they have a great dynamic. Change is... different. After Elle had left, things had been rocky. No one could replace her, but this new kid was supposed to be something special.

Aaron would just have to see about that.

"Come in," he says, busying himself with some files to look like he isn't anticipating the worst, when a knock rasps at his door.

Chief Strauss knocks at the Unit Chief's door, the team leader that Spencer would be directly under for the foreseeable future, and just walks on in -- in fact, the knock seems a little last second. Like she doesn't usually announce herself when she comes in, and is on her best behavior in front of Spencer.

He's not sure why, it's not like he wouldn't find out how everything works around here eventually. He isn't going anywhere.

"Aar- ahem, Agent Hotchner," again, with the hesitation, acting formal. Spencer looks around the dark wooded office lined with books on Law and sadism and serial killers alike, until he turns to the desk against the wall. "This is Dr. Spencer Reid, your newest team member."

Sitting there is a man in a dark suit, broad shouldered, black hair, bent over some files spread on his desk and seemingly very intent on his work. Finishing whatever he was making note of before looking up at them.

Dark eyes. Darker lashes. Tunnel vision stare that pierces through Spencer, and all the breath escapes his lungs.

No.

Strauss turns back to him with a tight, friendly smile; unaware of the bomb that has just gone off inside Spencer's head.

"Dr. Reid, meet your new Unit Chief: Supervisory Special Agent, Aaron Hotchner."

[remmushound]

Beyond the Bay chapter 14, Seeing Ghosts (part 2)

Part 1 - https://remmushound.tumblr.com/post/659856430715764736/chapter-14-seeing-ghosts-part-1-part-2

Summary: The rest of the return home and they meet someone new

Tags: @ilo-artistry @brightlotusmoon @selfindulgenz @digitl-art-monstr

Content warning: Swears

“I heard it!” Mikey said, waving his hands around in a wide motion, “It was like BANG. Er. Hm…” Just mouthing the sound effects did not do the point justice, so Mikey stood up and wobbled over to the closest thing that looked metal, banging on it a few times to show the resounding CLANK! “Like this!”

Raph’s eyes furrowed, and then shot wide. A breath hissed through his teeth and he shook his head back and forth with a slow pace. The reaction didn't go unnoticed.

“What’s up, Big Red? You seeing ghosts too?” Leonardo asked.

Raph gave another hiss, hands coming up to scratch at his head. He bit his toothpick in half and spat both halves separately onto the floor.

Donatello followed Raph’s spit and split toothpick all the way to the floor. “I just mopped in here.”

“Yeah. I might’ve.” Raph swiped his tongue over his lips.

“This is news to me.” Leo put his hands on his hips.

Raph eyed his brother with an ‘are you serious’ look. “No the fuck it ain’t. I told you an’ dad both that sommat weird was happenin’ right before Don and Mike came home. That something was in the bathroom with me!”

Michelangelo gasped softly. “It’s a pervert ghost.”

“I knew that chastity belt would come in handy!” Donatello exclaimed. “Ain’t no pervert ghost taking my turtle-hood. Not without a fight!”

“Donnie, please stop talking.” Leonardo said quickly, and in the same breath addressed Mikey and Raph. “If he saw something, and he saw something, then… they saw something.”

“Yes, that’s how seeing things tend to work.” Donnie agreed.

“What I’m saying is that Mikey, apparently, wasn’t there when Raph had his prevent ghost encounter, and Raph wasn’t here when Mikey had his. Raph, did you tell Mikey about what you saw?”

“Nah.” Raph shook his head. “He was all… you know… seizing.”

“Then how could Mikey know about it and give the exact same account? And it’s not even in the same place! Something is here, and something is following you guys.”

“Seems like a stretch to me.” Leo crossed his arms, and though he tried to show nothing but confidence, his voice wavered as uncertainty latched upon him. 

“Your voice says otherwise.” Leonardo waved a finger.

“With all do respect, Leo, you are in our world.” Raphael said, “It doesn’t work the same as yours. Something could have gone through or…”

“I would have noticed it.” Leo flashed his teeth, “I would have senses something-- Donatello’s alarms would have picked it up!”

“Mystic stuff isn’t always so easy to detect, you know.” Donatello said, “It’s possible his tech wasn’t advanced enough to pick up on mystic traces.”

“Okay, now I’m offended.” Donnie crossed his arms.

“I speak only the truth.” Donatello stuck up his large nose.

“Guys, stop fighting!” Mikey whined.

“Who’s fighting?” Leo asked, “We’re not fighting!”

“You’re fighting with me right now!”

“No I’m not!”

“Can we not do this?” Michelangelo frowned, starting to shrink into his shell.

“I know what I saw.” Raph snarled.

“I thought it was what you didn't see.” Leo retorted.

“Heard, then!” Raph got in Leo’s face, “And Mike heard it too!”

All the arguing and shouting and pleading mixed into one near-unintelligible screaming match where just enough of each argument got through for the opposing party to make a new comeback. Through the cacophony of voices, there came a soft voice that couldn’t placed to anyone. 

“Please stop fighting…”

The barely audible words were heard even past the screaming, and it put an immediate end to all arguments. Some of the turtles were left with their mouths still hanging open, mouthing the words they were about to say except without volume. Eyes widened and one by one turned to seek the source of the voice that had spoken.

The small origin of the small voice couldn’t have stood more than three feet in height. His body was a sleek one with rounded edges and an oversized head; if there was a single pointed edge on his entire body, none of the turtles could see it. His eyes were wide, owl-like screens with white pupils rimmed in green sliding around, impossibly expressive for something clearly inorganic.

Everyone stepped back, and it came naturally to all of them that the smaller brothers were pressed back deeper into fold while the bigger brothers stood in front, eyes locked on the robot. A whirl joined every fluid motion he made looking between all of them, from Raph to Donnie to Leo to Raphael to Mikey. No one could find the breath to respond, and when the stranger took a step forward, everyone else took a step back.

“I’m terribly sorry.” The voice was the most polite voice one could imagine; he folded his hands together as he kept looking between the turtles. “I did not intend to make you fight. Or to startle you just now. I only wanted to stop the yelling.”

Still no words could be said, for they were all speechless.

“I am speaking the right language…” The robot said slowly, “I heard you all speaking it just a second ago. OH! Is my accent weird…?”

Donatello was the first one to break out of his silence, the stunned look on his face quickly shifting back to his normal, uncaring expression as he turned to look at his brothers.

“Wait, why are we stunned again? We’ve seen way weirder.”

Michelangelo let his shock fade away. “Oh yeah.”

“What’s your name?” Raphael asked politely.

The robot seemed overjoyed, giving a bounce of pure happiness. “Hello! My name is Professor Zayton Honeycutt and I am a man of science! Both literally and metaphorically.”

“I… you…” Donnie stumbled over his words as they all fought to get out at once. Though the stunned shine in his eyes remained, astonishment and excitement slowly grew to join. “You’re a robot!”

“Yes!” Said Honeycutt.

“You’re… tiny.” Raph scrutinized.

“Yes!” Said Honeycutt.

“You’re the ghost?” Leo gawked.

“Yes!” Said Honeycutt.

“You’re so cuuuuute!” Mikey ran forward to get a closer look, falling to the ground to ever so tenderly shift Honeycutt around.

“Yes!” Honeycutt said, “I am Professor Zayton Honeycutt, and I am a man of science! Both literally and metaphorically!”

“You eh… said that already.” Raphael pointed out.

“Ah. Apologies. As a robot, I do tend to make a habit of redundancy.” 

“Right…” Leo said slowly, then cleared his throat, “Well, I suppose you need our names…”

“Nope!” Said Honeycutt, “You’re Leonardo, you’re Donatello, you’re Raphael, and you’re Michelangelo!” He seemed very proud of himself, turning next to the Hamato brothers, “And you’re Leonardo, you’re Donatello, you’re Raphael, and You’re Michelangelo. Easy pattern to follow!” 

“Exactly how long have you been following us…?” Raph’s words were slow as he lumbered forward to join Mikey in looking over the robot, though without touching him.

“Oh, not that long!” Honeycutt beeped, “Only a week…”

Leo’s eyes went wide. “A WEEK?!”

“Yes!” Honeycutt said, “Seven days! Eight if you count today!”

“I…” Leo was lost for words and when they finally escaped his lips, there was very little force behind them, “How did I not know…?”

“Do not feel sad, Leonardo, I was in hiding! Not even the Triceraton Prime Leader himself could have found me!”

Raph blinked. “The what?”

“The Prime Leader!” Honeycutt repeated.

“Yeah… w-what is that?” Leo asked. He kneeled down to try and get more level with Honeycutt, but even then was two heads too big.

“That’s the name for the triceraton leader.” The answer came from Mikey, not from Honeycutt. Mikey was proud as first, beaming so wide his eyes were squinted shut. Then his smile faded and he blinked as joy was replaced with utter confusion.

“That’s correct!” Honeycutt praised.

“Mike…?” Donnie asked in his soft voice, “How’d you know that?”

“I… I dunno…” Mikey shrugged. His panicked eyes confirmed his words true. He turned to his brothers as the fear took seed in every aspect of his being. “It— it just slipped out!”

“Oh, what joy!” Honeycutt declared with a clap of his hands.

“No, no, not joy!” Mikey’s voice had grown into a higher pitch.

Honeycut tilted his head and his face panel shifted to one of confusion. “Why not joy? Knowledge is such a wondrous thing to achieve! Wouldn’t you agree, Donatello and Donatello?”

Neither of the purple ninja seemed particularly interested to respond to the robot’s query. Like a stubborn child who couldn’t take a hint that he was unwanted in the situation, Honeycutt remained patiently waiting on the tips of his feet, screen bright. To put an end to the awkward staring contest that they had unwillingly entered, Donnie cleared his throat.

“Yeah. I… I guess so…” He was extremely uncomfortable, shoulders bunched and head drawn deeper into his shell.

Honeycutt, seeming satisfied with the answer, beeped his agreement, “Yes! There is no guessing required! It is an unchanging fact of life on all planets, especially earth!”

“Wait…” Leonardo said, taking a step forward to point at Honeycutt, “You’re the andoroido, aren’t you? The android that bought all of Monroe’s rifts. Are you the one who took Don’s stuff too?”

From bright excitement to somber shyness, Honeycutt’s face screen shifted dark. “Yes. I apologize, but the Splinterson’s may not return home…”

Raph huffed hot air out of his nostrils. “Who you think you are, a free elf?”

Leonardo sputtered, and then broke down into laughter. Raph’s smile widened as his joke was acknowledged, but he was quick to clear his throat and straighten his posture to save face. Leo had enough of Leonardo’s laughter quickly, and before he could stop himself, he reacted the same way he would have if it had been Mikey laughing.

“This is a serious matter,” Leo said, “Not a laughing one.”

Leonardo made a point to laugh directly in Leo’s face, crossing his arms as he leaned so close his beak almost touched Leo’s. “Sounds like a job for mister serious then. Go on.”

“Don’t think I won’t.” Leo snorted, then turned to Honeycutt, “Zayton, I demand you give Donatello his stuff back now and give us those rifts you bought.”

“No.” Came Honeycutt’s simple answer.

“Uh.” Leo didn't know how to react at first. He cleared his throat. “I’m gonna give you until the count of three to return that stuff!”

“Oh! Okay!” Said Honeycutt chipperly.

Leo, all confidence now down the drain, began to count down. “One…”

Honeycutt’s face was still just as happy and joyful, fingers intertwined as he listened.

“T-two…” Leo’s voice stuttered.

“Oh boy, I can’t wait to find out what comes after two!” Honeycutt was excited.

“T… two and a half. Two and three quarters…”

Honeycutt still had yet to react.

“Three…”

“Yay! Good job!” Honeycutt clapped an applause, “You made it all the way to three!”

Leo’s shoulders slumped. Even without turning around, he could hear the snickers and snorts of his brothers trying their damndest not to laugh, except for Mikey and Leonardo, who were practically falling over with the force of his guffaws. Raphael cleared his throat and laid an oversized hand on Leo’s shoulder. Leo turned around to look at him.

“Why not let us have a go at him, eh?”

Leo, with no other option, agreed.

[hops-hunny]

Distance Makes the Heart Grow

CHAPTER 7

Series Masterlist

Pairing: Mafia Boss!Neville Longbottom x Reader

Pronouns: She/Her

Word Count: 2.2k

Summary: (Y/n) lives a normal life. But that’s the issue, it’s normal, it’s plain, and it’s growing boring. Everyday she wishes for something, anything to spice up her life. But, when her old school friend (and crush) shows up at her bakery with a new look (and what looks like a new life), what will it bring for her? Will their puppy love grow? Will his big secret lead to the end of them or will it spark a new beginning?

Warnings: mentions of insecurity

A/N: I love and hate this chapter so much

Although this trip wasn’t for leisure, Neville was doing everything to treat it like it was. No matter how busy he was with planning the current mission or even seeing what else Italy had to offer money wise, he made sure to make time for (Y/n). Everyday had been a dream come true, from softer moments down to more...intimate moments.

He hadn’t taken her all the way yet nor had he asked her to return the favor but he didn’t need her to. Spending hours upon hours between her legs was more than enough for him. The small whimpers and whiny moans that would erupt from her plagued his thoughts during all times of the day. Most of the time he’d step away to take care of himself when he did but other times when that option wasn’t available he’d pray to Merlin that his obvious hard on would just disappear. It was 50/50 with whether that’d actually work and when it didn’t? The guys would never let him forget.

Today was different though. Instead of having to split his time between preparing for the big day or spending time with his beloved he got to do both. Today was the day before they’d put their plan in action, making it the safest day to bring her to the museum considering there was no risk. Because the museum received many visitors on the daily, no one ever questioned their consistent visit. Plus, their attire often made them look like the kind of people who admired art, which wasn’t an incorrect assumption. They did appreciate art, just even more so when it was in their home or being sold to some rich idiot.

(Y/n) looked around in awe at everything around her. Everything about the museum screamed class and money. There wasn’t just art on the walls, but the ceilings had been hand painted as well. However, her eyes fixated on the glass display in the center of the room. Inside was an array of jewels of all sorts, in crowns, in rings, in earrings, but also in the most beautiful necklace she had ever seen. It had the biggest diamonds she had ever seen, connected by a white gold chain. Reading the sign she saw it belonged to a queen of a country that no longer existed and it had clearly been kept in immaculate condition over the years. A matching set of earrings set on the other side of it.

“See something you like, petal?” she jumped at the sound of the voice, turning her head slightly to smile at the man. Neville smiled back, wrapping his arms around her waist as he came behind her. His eyes lingered on the way her reflection made it seem like she was wearing the necklace. He couldn’t help but think of how beautiful she would look in it.

“No, just looking.” she responded, turning around to wrap her arms around the man’s neck. However, she couldn’t help but feel as though someone was staring at her. Looking out the corner of her eye, she saw a womanly figure facing her direction. She went to look but her attention was turned to the warm cheek on her hand. Neville leaned down, pressing his lips to hers not even trying to fight the smile growing on his lips. She kissed him back, standing on the tip of her shoes before pulling him down to her height as she giggled. He went to say something but muffled voices started to come from his ear piece.

“Sorry, it appears our time has been cut short for now. But don’t worry angel, I’ll be back as soon as I can be.” he said, placing a kiss on her lips before pulling her into a hug. Over his shoulder, (Y/n) watched as the woman from before quickly turned back to the painting in front of her, as if she wasn’t just staring at her. Perhaps it had been her imagination? Giving him one last smile she waved as the tall man began to walk away. 

Curiosity began to get the best of her, leading her to walk across the room to the woman. Looking at the painting she saw that it was indeed a beautiful painting! It showcased many people inside some sort of marble lookout point, gazing upon the sea. A gasp left her lips at the attention to detail, the wet appearance of the water, the reflection of the sun. Despite it not moving like the ones she was used to, she found that it didn’t need to be. The woman standing next to her gave her a side glance, a look on her face that she didn’t notice.

“Ti piace il dipinto?(“Do you like the painting?”)” the woman asked her, a mischievous look on her face. Gisele knew that the girl was sheltered just from her appearance. She wasn’t nearly as traveled as herself so there was no way for her to know even an inkling of what she had just asked her.

(Y/n) blinked at her, pondering what the woman had asked her before nodding. “È bellissimo. L'attenzione ai dettagli è incredibile! Non ho mai visto niente del genere.(“It's beautiful. The attention to detail is incredible! I've never seen anything like it!”)” she looked at the woman as she choked slightly, a concerned look on her face.

“You speak italian?” she asked in an offended tone, an unreadable look on her face. (Y/n) shrugged some, continuing to look at the painting.

“Not quite. I’ve only been learning for a few days. My boy- er, friend taught me but he says I’m a quick learner! I’m sorry if my translation was a bit off.” she said, offering the woman a kind smile. The woman’s eye twitched at the information, growling slightly. But, she remembered she had some “information” of her own.

“You mean Neville?” the strange woman asked, causing her to look up. She nodded slowly, offering her another kind smile.

“Do you know him?” she asked.

“Know him? Ha!” she sighed dramatically, putting a freshly manicured hand over her ample chest. “We were practically married! He and I were seeing each other for such a long time. I’m assuming you’re dating then?” she smirked to herself, watching as the girl shook her head no. “No? Well I guess that isn’t too shocking. I mean, why date a knock off when the real thing is still available. Oh! Where are my manners? I’m Gisele Bardot, Europe’s one and only top model.” (Y/n) felt her throat grow tight as she swallowed harshly. Neville had never once brought up Gisele to her. In fact, he had even gone as far as to say he hadn’t dated anyone, saving his heart for her. 

“Knock off? What do you mean?” she asked her innocently, blinking back the tears that were threatening to form. Perhaps it was a simple misunderstanding. However, Gisele’s cackle of a laugh told her otherwise.

“Oh honey, are you really that naive? Look at you, you’re a lesser version of myself. Do you really think that’s a coincidence?” she stated as if it was a face. She took the time to look at Gisele and realized she was right. Gisele had all the same features of her, but better. Higher cheekbones, fuller lips, her hair was healthier. And when it came to her body? (Y/n) could only dream of a chest as nice as hers with a stomach so flat, so toned. Was it a coincidence or was Neville really using her as a replacement for what he couldn’t have. “Poor thing, anyone with eyes could see-”

“Could see what?” Twyla seethed, placing an arm around her shoulder as she walked up to the two. (Y/n) felt relieved from the familiar face, wiping the tears that had fallen from her eyes, much to her efforts of trying to get them to not do so. “What business do you have with my friend?”

“We were just chatting! Right..” her eyes widened at the fact she didn’t know the girl’s name. Twyla smirked, giving her an expectant look.

“Go on, what’s her name?” Twyla asked in a fake concerned tone. As the model stood there gaping, mouth opening and closing like a fish, the blonde scoffed, grabbing (Y/n) as she dragged her off.

“Come on (Y/n), we don’t associate with trash. Especially not trash wearing grandma’s pearls and perfume.” she turned around once more, looking her up and down. “It’s a good thing you’re a model because you sure don’t know how to dress.” and with that they were off, walking out to the garden of the museum. When they got there, the taller girl looked at the (e/c) eyed girl, a concerned look present on her face. “What was that? I don’t like her, she gives me bad vibes. Not like, sinister, just...petty. I’ve seen her in those magazines and stuff. What’s her name? Gizette?”

“Gisele. Apparently she was Neville’s....Neville’s ex girlfriend.” tears began to fall from her eyes as she sobbed softly, falling forward into her friend’s chest. Without hesitation, the blonde wrapped her arms around her, hugging her close. “She essentially said that I’m just a replacement for the real thing which is her and, it must be true! I mean just look at her, she’s gorgeous Twyla! Runway gorgeous. She’s an international model and I’m..I’m just me.”

“Oh honey, I hate to ruin this heart to heart, actually this is an awful heart to heart, but she’s definitely lying! I’ve seen the way Neville looks at you and so has everyone else. I’ve got this feeling that he’s lying and you know me with my feelings, they’re always right.” (Y/n) looked up at her, sniffling some as Twyla wiped at her runny makeup with her tissue. “Plus, that easily could be the other way around. How do you know she wasn’t just a replacement for you?” she froze at her words. She was right, it very well could be the other way around. How would she know unless she asked? As if she read her mind, the next words aligned with her thoughts perfectly. “You know, there’s only one thing to do.”

“Ask him about it?” she gulped at the thought. Neville had been nothing but kind to her since they reconnected. She had nothing to be scared about. Whether it was learning the truth or Neville himself she feared she didn’t know. Or, at least she didn’t wanna admit which one it was.

“Oh..I was gonna say find this bitch and replace her shampoo with nair. You know, maybe even give her some of that tea my aunt gave to her husband.” Twyla shrugged, leaning back some with a sigh. “Buut, that’s good too.”

(Y/n) gave the girl a questionable look. “Twy….didn’t your aunt use that tea to kill her husband?” the girl nodded, sitting up as she dusted herself off.

“Yeah. Your point?” Before she could respond, Neville came running up to the two of them with a smile. As he placed a peck on her lips, she gave him a weak smile.

“Hi, love. I missed you.” he said, a dopey lovesick smile on his face. He cleared his throat, ears tinted cheeks. “I-I was wonderin’ if uh, you’d like to go on a date with me tomorrow. You know, after the mission.” her eyes widened as she felt her face grow fuzzy. A date? She was sure he had something worse to say, especially after the fiasco from earlier. ‘Gisele must’ve not been able to find him.’

“I’d love to! I’ve never been on a date before.” she answered honestly, giving him a smile. “I can’t wait.” he looked surprised as she accepted, picking her up as he spun her around before setting her back down gently. Placing a peck on her lips, he stroked her cheek.

“Fantastic. Oh I can’t wait. I’m going to spoil you on our date tomorrow,” he leaned near her ear, resting his hands on her rear, “And tonight too. How’s bout you sit on my face again, yeah?” she nodded shyly, looking down at their shoes. Neville chuckled some, walking away before another pair of men’s dress shoes stopped in front of her. Looking up she saw Seamus who gave her a small smile.

“Don’t worry mini boss, I kept that stupid woman away from him.” her eyes widened as she went to speak. “How’d I know? I could tell something was up and plus I saw her enter as we were leaving. Thought she’d try something. Whatever she said wasn’t true.” He patted her back (a bit too roughly..) as he offered her a thumbs up. “But, I know you’d still probably rather hear that from him.”

“You know Finnigan, for someone who acts so stupid you’re kinda smart sometimes.” Twyla said, giggling as she intertwined her hands with Draco. Draco offered her a nod to which she returned before beginning to walk off with the rest of them. She smiled when she saw Neville waiting for her by the door, hand outstretched with the same look he’d always give her. As they got in the car, she watched as the beautiful buildings passed them in the distance. It was then she decided.

She’d ask him, no matter how scared she was of the answer. Neville was sure to give her an honest one, but was it the one she wanted to hear?

PREVIOUS||NEXT

TAGSLIST: @vayeya11 @pink-hufflepuff @clancyscookies @elemental-of-magic @beewitchedlou @simpforremuslupin @mottergirl99 @princesslaiahg @nevillelongbottomsgirlfriend @redpanda-poetry @vibingaesthetically

[karama9]

Mini Fic time

Or "not so much a theory as something I find entertaining to think about, in prose". Follows Rocketear so spoilers ahead! Hurt Comfort fic, but before you get any idea, in a strictly emotional sense.

Long post, so story under the read more.

Despite Plagg's attempt at soothing him, Adrien could not shake off the day's events.

It was bad enough that he'd found out who Rena Rouge and Carapace were from someone else than Ladybug, even if it was from Carapace himself.

It was bad enough that he'd found out THEY were allowed to know each other's identities. Nino associated it with the fact they shared everything... was he right? Was it because they were close that Ladybug had been ok with that? Weren't he and Ladybug close enough for that too? Sure they weren't a couple, as much as he wished they were, but there are other kinds of closeness.

But when he paired it with Nino's assessment that Ladybug found Cat Noir annoying... when he thought about the fact Nino's assessment was from time Carapace spent with the two of them and probably also reflected his own feelings...

It hurt.

He was not new to pain... a lot of things that happened in his civilian life hurt, in fact heartache was pretty much the norm since his mother had gone, broken only by bright moments with friends, which were few and far between as Adrien but had been more recently mercifully combined with outright glee when he was Cat Noir. Cat Noir was freedom and fun, but he was also one of an indestrutible pair and sometimes, one of a fantastic team. And above all that, Cat Noir was Ladybug's partner, and being Cat Noir meant being with her. For as long as he could remember, that had been the best part of being Cat Noir.

Knowing she found him annoying, as apparently was obvious to anyone but himself, was heartbreaking. He knew she didn't always enjoy his jokes, but it was usually the timing she didn't like. She'd tell him to be serious because she needed him to be at that moment, not because she generally disliked him. Or so he had thought until today.

Even with Rena Rouge being called upon more often and sometimes appearing to know more than he did, sometimes DEFINITELY knowing more than he did to the point that the two girls would make action plans that didn't include him at all... he had been annoyed, angry even, but he had still convinced himself that Ladybug valued him and that times where he couldn't help were isolated incidents that couldn't be avoided. He still didn't like it, and he had intended to have a talk with Ladybug about it because it was starting to feel like back when Master Fu only communicated with her and he couldn't stand the thought of his Lady distancing herself from him that much. But that was what that issue had been in his head... something to talk over with Ladybug so it could be fixed.

After today, he saw it all in a new light. His relationship with Ladybug wasn't going to be fixed by complaining to her because what he saw now was simply the result of Ladybug having the luxury of relying on others more now. The annoying Cat Noir didn't have to always be the one by her side now, the team could be bigger and well, not everyone on a big team is needed all the time, right? So he could be sidelined and she could get a break now and again, she didn't have to put up with him all the time.

His throat tightened and he felt tears flooding his eyes at the thought. He had tried to move on from Ladybug. He had even loved Kagami, but it hadn't worked out because he had to lie to her all the time. Except maybe he hadn't HAD to? Alya and Nino had been excused from that. Either way, it hadn't worked out and to his surprise, what had upset him the most had been that Kagami was hurt, not the fact he was losing her. He'd quickly realized that he was still in love with Ladybug, regardless of any feeling he'd had for Kagami as well.

That love being unrequited at the moment was not great, but at least he'd had Ladybug's friendship. She still loved him, cared for him... and that was good enough. Romance would have been nice, but what was there was still wonderful.

And it hadn't been there at all. He'd been deluding himself. They were partners, yes. But Ladybug was just dealing with an annoying partner very professionally. He was just a nuisance that made being a super hero that much less fun for her, something she just had to put up with.

He started sobbing, staying as silent as possible not to be heard by anyone, and ignored all of Plagg's attempts at comforting him with cheese nonsense. He eventually fell into an uneasy sleep and when he woke up, he wanted nothing more than a friendly face.

Nino was out. Adrien realized that Nino had been speaking out of anger and was a genuine friend, but right now Adrien couldn't even look at him without hearing that Ladybug found him annoying again. He stayed outside of the class, avoiding his best friend and everyone else in there he didn't want to see, from Lila to Chloe and even Alya. Alya was Rena Rouge, she was the one allowing Ladybug to take breaks from having to deal with her nuisance of a partner Cat Noir... he supposed he should be grateful on his Lady's behalf but he couldn't quite manage it.

Marinette came running down the hall towards class, last one here as usual, and Adrien's eyes widened even as his mouth automatically lost its pout to form a smile. At this moment, Marinette was nothing short of a lifeline. He waved at her, trying to think of an excuse, when she tripped and fell flat on her face.

He rushed towards her but she was already jumping back to her feet, stammering that she was fine. Reassuring as it was, Adrien wasn't about to lose such a great opportunity to spend a few more minutes with her and away from class.

"I don't know, Marinette, that really looked like a bad fall. Let me walk you to the nurse's office. Please?"

Marinette turned bright red but mercifully nodded. Adrien grabbed her arm and 'accidentally' turned the wrong way. The building was a square, but the nurse's office was much closer if you went in the direction opposite the one he had taken.

"Er..." Marinette said.

"I actually really need to talk to you," Adrien admitted.

Marinette stopped walking. He turned and was faced with a worried expression on Marinette's face.

"You do? What's wrong? Are you ok?"

He automatically started to say yes but his voice caught and nothing came out but an undefined strangled sound.

Marinette's eyes widened. "You're not!" she said, a note of panic in her voice. She had a quick look around and her features morphed into a determined expression that was so much like Ladybug's it was downright eerie. "Forget the nurse's office, come with me!"

And suddenly, she was dragging him along. They ended up in the deserted art room. She closed the door and turned to him, her expression once more nothing but concern.

"What's wrong?" she asked.

For a second, he thought he wouldn't be able to say anything for not knowing where to start and how to not give away his secret identity, and then everything came flooding out in a blur. By the time he was fully aware again, his cheeks were wet, his chest was aching and he was in Marinette's arms.

His eyes widened and he tried to push himself away, embarassed and horrified at having dumped everything on her, along with hysterical crying by the feels of it, and had he told her he was Cat Noir? He wasn't even sure.

She tightened her grip and he noticed it had already been rather tight. He managed to pull his head away to look at her face and mentally kicked himself: he'd made her cry too.

"Marinette... I... I'm sorry, I didn't mean to... I don't even know what I said but..."

She swallowed and when she answered, her voice was far calmer than he would have expected.

"You said you were only ever happy when you're Cat Noir because even though you wish she was more, you're still happy to be with Ladybug as a friend and partner, but now you think she hates you because you keep being left out and you found out Rena Rouge and Carapace can share their identities with each other even though she won't share hers with you, and now you think she finds you annoying so you're heartbroken and you think it may be best for everyone for you to give up your miraculous."

Adrien's eyes widened. He'd broken the secret, he'd told her everything, even about Nino and her best friend Alya. He groaned. "At least now Ladybug has a good reason to hate me."

Marinette tensed again. She took a deep breath and then pulled away just enough to look him in the eyes.

"No," she said firmly. She finished pulling away and opened her purse. She nodded at the content and before Adrien could even begin to guess what that was about, Tikki peeked out, not looking either of them in the eye.

"This was MY fault," Marinette whispered, "not yours. I can't believe I hurt you t his much, and I never even would have known if..." she shook her head. "You said my name, Marinette that is, a few times, so it's best I don't transform. You should, though: nothing you said identified you as Adrien so your identity will still be safe if someone comes in or sees us leave. Thankfully you didn't blurt out anyone's civilian names, not even Rena or Carapace's, you were much more careful about talking in tongues whenever you were talking about them. You're a great friend even when you don't know what you're saying."

Adrien barely registered the words, staring at Tikki. He tore his eyes away from the kwami to look at Marinette. More than anything else, she looked sad. She started talking again as soon as she had his attention.

"We'll talk more later but this can't wait," she said, still whispering, "I do NOT find you annoying. Your friend was angry, and he was wrong. Adrien... Cat Noir... I love and appreciate you SO much. I'm sorry I so completely failed to show that lately, and I'm sorry I left you out. I didn't mean to. I'm so sorry, I didn't even notice and it happened more than once. I'm sorry. You're my friend, not just my partner, and I never, EVER want to lose you. That's never changed and it never will."

Adrien was reeling. Ladybug. Marinette was Ladybug. He'd been crying in Ladybug's arms. And she didn't hate him at all, and she was sorry.

"Why did you let them know each other?" he said, clinging madly to something that hadn't dramatically changed in his head in the past two minutes. "Why was it okay for them but not for us?"

"I'm worried about being interrupted," she whispered, her tone business-like. "There's a really good chance some people heard you, they need to think it was Cat Noir talking to me. I'll deal with people wondering why he would, but you need to transform."

"Wait," he said, an important fact suddenly dawning on him. "You had a crush on me at one point!"

"Kitty..."

"Right. Plagg," he whispered, "claws out."

Marinette sighed in relief. The timing was spot on, they heard voices coming down the hall, with Alya's ringing over the others trying to steer them away by saying that Cat Noir deserved some privacy if he wanted it. It was to no avail, the door burst open to several students staring at Cat Noir and Marinette.

He hurriedly got up.

"Oops, looks like my rehearsal was overheard! Sorry about the disruption, everyone! What did you think, Miss Dupain-Cheng? Was I convincing?" He waggled his eyebrows at her.

She giggled. "Not bad," she teased. "Kind of too hammy, as you might have guessed from how I was crying laughing, but I think you'll be alright if we practice tonight. "I will await you on my balcony, Sir Cat!"

Cat Noir chuckled and nodded, understanding the rendez-vous as real even if the reason was a lie. He bowed to the gaping students and jumped out the window, bounding away.

He still needed a long talk with Ladybug, but the pain of the last 24 hours felt like a dim memory. He knew for a fact that they'd work it out, because that's what friends and partners did, and above all else, he knew one thing beyond all doubt: Marinette was his friend.