#thank u for prompting me to research him... any excuse to go digging into a new guy!!!

[puckpocketed]

new babygirl unlocked!! and he has HAIR!!!!!!

[ID: Photo of Los Angeles Kings prospect Aatu Jämsen in his Pelicans uniform. His hair is backlit to almost seem white, and streams out from under his helmet. /. End ID]

oh my GOD!!! new babygirl indeed... its giving barbie its giving goldilocks its giving hair on a my little pony toy... !

Quick notes on Aatu Jämsen. i am quite endeared. he is exactly my type of hockey guy <3

Plays RW! Drafted 2020, round 7, 190th overall. Before signing with the Kings, was playing for the Lahti Pelicans. Bit of a late bloomer, but he's tearing it up lately!! Probably why he got the nod from LA.

Per EP Rinkside, "Players with Jämsen's creativity are a rarity in Liiga. In a league where systems and team-wide strategy are at the forefront, Jämsen stands out with his puck skills and a flair for the dramatic. He's a legitimate dual-threat weapon in the offensive zone, and has also made some slight improvements to his physical game; a necessity if he wants to try to conquer North America next season."

So he's known for being very flashy. Quick, soft hands. Creative. Highlight reel stuff. GOATED on the shootout, apparently always trying crazy dangles in game... I'm SURE this type of prospect will be fine in the LA Kings system (<- lying but hopeful!! aslkdaskjl)

Here he is bullying the shit out of NHL24 champ/youtuber/ex-goalie Eki in the shootout. he yells "KUCHEROV" in triumph at one point after scoring on this guy who (checks notes) laced up skates to play goalie 2 times in the last 4 years - and i think that's so fucking lame and deeply charming.

and I am not surprised at all; he is VERY popular in the Finnish league.

Last month he got into a fight with Tampereen Tappara's Otto Rauhala. VERY unexpected, he's not a fighter at all. Rough google translate from this article, cleaned up a little by me:

Interviewer: What happened there? Jämsen: I don't know. Interviewer: So would you say Rauhala started it? Jämsen: You could say. I didn't appreciate his check in the first period of the game. Nothing more than that."

This is whole exchange is SO funny to me. what happened? he doesn't know. but if he had to say? then that guy fucking started it!!! but that's all <3 LMAO

HE MOONLIGHTS AS A RAP MUSICIAN. HELLO. His stage name is KIDJAM$EN kjlasdkljadlak HELP..,, here is one of his songs set to a short looping montage of Pelicans hockey players.. i think its a playoffs hype song??? I cannot understand a word of it. it DOES bang though!!! He plans to pursue music as a career if hockey doesn't work out. jumping from one risky career to another with no fear honestly go off!!! faith trust and pixie dust <3

everything about him i can dig up is like He's SOO flashy. eccentric. strange creachture. He bleaches his hair to get it that light. he did it to imitate Otto Salin, per this article. The picture is worth a thousand words tbh:

the fucking. LV sweater. the sunglasses. the coy look up at the camera. okay!!! cunt !!! <3

In the same article: he got very serious about nutrition and exercise last season after coming back from a break and getting BLASTED by his coaches for being out of shape. from the sounds of it, this dressing-down triggered his current meteoric rise? He was nawwwt taking his conditioning seriously before this. Since then, he's gained weight and become stronger, and has dedicated himself fully to going pro!

same article again: he's the scion of a hockey family - and god isnt that always the story?? His dad played for the Pelicans. his brothers Juuso and Vili also play hockey. The three have distinct play styles like a cute little set <3 Juuso the goal scorer, Aatu the playmaker, and Vili the GOON!!!

ough MIDDLE CHILD ALERT!!! it all makes SO much sense now....

Due to his flashiness on-ice AND off-ice, he naturally is a lightning rod for criticism. ice hockey is notoriously conservative as a culture and everything about him goes against this. Jams... Jammie... Jammer... idk what to call you BUT. your swag too different your slay too cunty, they're trying to kill you but you wont let them!!!!!

it seems instead of pivoting and making himself more palatable, he's only doubled down. i love and support him for this. if anyone has been on my blog they know i enjoy my guys with big personalities just as much as i love the quiet/underrated ones.

in conclusion, WELCOME TO LA. YOU ARE PERFECT FOR THIS TOWN, GORGEOUS <3

[katreal-fic]

Day 5 — for #fictober 10/05/19

Prompt: “I might just kiss you.”

Fandom: Homestuck

Warnings: Cursing, 2nd Person POV

Part of a series. Please start from the beginning!

Characters: Dirk Strider & Roxy Lalonde 

First | Previous | Next

x-x-x

Dirk > Get Over It

You don’t get over it. But, you’ve had years of the intrusions to learn to live with it. You pick yourself after time and the sea breeze allow the most persistent of the whispers to fade back into your brain. You don’t know how to stop it. You don’t think you can. Maybe it’s just in the universes’ cards that you’ll never be able to escape the insufferable and unignorable presence of your selves. Splintered, doomed, it’s a big old party full of the one person you hate the most. 

You’re on the computer this time, digging into some of the less physical aspects of your work for CrockerCorp. Coding wasn’t your favorite thing, but aside from Roxy and ARq, you were probably one of the better around, and as far as you know, neither of them were helping Jane out on a consulting basis. You ignore the humming in the back of your mind, the phantom disconnect bubbling out from some deep inner core that leaves you watching your hands performing their tasks and yet--not under your control at all. An observer. Weightless, formless, trapped in a world of numbers and words with only a single view to the world beyond.

Only that isn’t right, you could take the stairs to the roof and go wherever the fuck you wanted to. Maybe you’re trapped, but it’s your own damn choice.

That’s the most unnerving of the loose threads, you think, because you know exactly who is leaking through there and at least he has more of a right to inflict this shit on you than any of the others. 

It keeps leaking. Mixing. You wonder if one day you’ll stop noticing and cataloging and just accept it all as your lot in life. Maybe even use it.

You send off the finished product--even with clumsy as hell organic interfacing tools, you work more efficiently at this sort of task when your auto-responder rises to the surface--and scroll through your inbox for another one. 

One stands out from amongst the mixture of spam emails that somehow keep getting around your ever more sophisticated filter (you suspect ARquiusprite to be behind it, but have no proof) and the more mundane business communication you maintain with CrockerCorp’s research division. You used to go straight through Jane but...as the company expanded it became more efficient to just work directly with the developers since Jane wasn’t very plugged in to that particular aspect for the business. It unnerves you a little, thinking of the small bakery she opened to take back her family name from the Batterwitch, only for the business to balloon into such a multi-industry giant, filling many vital services in this world and only rivaled in scale by Jake’s revival of SkaiaNet. 

But you suppose that’s the responsibility of a god, taking the world in hand and guiding it. Benevolent patrons, looking down from on high, shaping the course of history and society into the best form it could be. Someone’s got to recreate the internet (the world’d better thank you and Roxy and ARquiusprite for that) and you weren’t willing to wait around for it to happen organically. Shit needed to get done, and sometimes, the eight of you were the ones who needed to do it. 

The rogue email stands out with it’s bright pink text and typo filled subject line. Why would Roxy send you an email? Why didn’t she just hit you up on Pesterchum or--

A thought and you have the window open in the corner of your display, fighting, and failing to resist the urge to press your palms into your face when you notice the little red dot next to Do Not Disturb. A little further digging and you turn up some unread notifications that never got sent due to the privacy settings.

Of fucking course. Of course you’d automatically flip it to DND when in one of your spirals and not even realize it. You remedy that mistake, but instead of scrolling back through Roxy’s messages--there’s also a meme sent your way from Dave, accompanied by an ironic selfie of him and Karkat from, Jesus Christ that was a month ago--you turn back to the email in your inbox. This would be the newest one, given the time stamp, which was only an hour ago.

There’s a picture attached, a night shot of New City, near where Roxy and Calliope set up. Roxy’s got the whole selfie thing going, smiling and radiant for the camera, pink eyes sparkling with mischief as she framed the background shot just perfectly.

There’s an orange and green streak across the cityscape, the tall buildings in the distant background, their lit windows shining like a million stars from across the bay. Calliope has her green-suited arms wrapped tightly around their neck, highlighted by feathered wings obviously hitting the end of their orange end of the gradient and starting down the green path. Despite the obvious speed (you can tell from the way Davepeta’s currently green coat is caught mid-whip behind them) the picture is perfectly clear and focused, as if you are looking through a window into an image frozen in time. 

Damn she’s good.

wishin’ u were here di-stri. i heard u got out a little. maybe u shuld do it again. liek maybe come out my way next tiem?? ;) we have fun.

You chew on the inside of your lip, studying the picture. The frozen mixture of delight and mild terror on Calliope’s face. The mischief on Roxy’s. You can’t see Davepeta’s even if you zoom in, what with the ever present glow beneath their skin and the glasses currently matching the same orange of their wings. You bet they are having a blast though. How did they manage to talk Calliope into that? You didn’t talk to the cherub much on your own, but you were under the impression she was a skittish thing.

Your hand moves on its own, triggering the sylladex withdrawal on reflex. The feather hums quietly in your hand. It’s fading. The colors duller. Moving slower. But it’s there and it’s a comfort and…

Maybe you should.

You open Pesterchum back up.

TT begins pestering TG

TT: Sorry Ro-Lal, I was buried in work. TT: If you’re free I could probably head out your way tomorrow. I’m at a lull in my projects.

You aren’t, really, but as you’ve been so clearly reminded by the peanut gallery, none of this shit actually matters. And…

You miss Roxy. If you turn down this invitation…

Well, they already stopped coming once, and you let them. 

You don’t expect an answer immediately; the carapacian kingdom was a few timezones ahead of your ocean bound kingdom. It’s well into dinner time and you bet she’s a little busy with her guests and being the most kickass hostess of all time. 

You barely pull up another project and start studying the design specifications before the window on your shades spring open, searing excited bright pink across your eyeballs.

TG: omg dirk really??? this is going to be awesome!!! Callie and i promised to take ARq and peta out for more shenanignss but oh my gawd thisll be soo much fun! Itll be liek old times! Ull have to keep me updatedf on ur ETA TG: gawd i havent seen you in so long i might just kiss u TG: plonk a big one rite smack dab on each cheek TT: Don’t make me reconsider now, Rox. TT: You know how I feel about smooches, advanced warning or not these cheeks are off limits without applying for a permit. It’s private real estate. TG: nu’uh buster no take backsies!!! U accepted the invitation u gotta put up with the potential of that ill be so overcome with joy at seeing ur face that there’ll be a shower of friendly smooches TG: see u tomorrow <3 TT: Tomorrow, it is Roxy.

You talk a bit more, but Roxy soon excuses herself to do the hosting thing, and you’re left wondering what you’d gotten yourself into.

You’d forgotten Davepeta was traveling with ARquius.

Trapped. Trapped and it’s your own damn fault.

There’s no way you’ll let Roxy down after all that though.

You’ll just have to deal with it when you get there.

First | Previous | Next

[thebibliomancer]

Essential Avengers: Avengers #192: Steel City Nightmare!

February, 1980

Weirdly my first thought was that this could be a Superman cover. Because Wonder Man is very red and blue and I somehow overlooked Iron Man at first. And punching a big glowy guy full of kirby krackle is just the kind of nonsense Superman would get up to.

And later in this issue, Wonder Man ends up in a situation that reminds him of “an old Max Fleisher cartoon” and takes a page from the unnamed hero thereof.

So I wonder (ha!) if its a coincidence or if I’m picking up on an intentional homage.

Anyway.

Last time: the Avengers won their freedom from Agent Gyrich’s restrictions by ditching their senatorial hearing to go fight Grey Gargoyle. There’s more to it then that but basically the very short time when Gyrich had much sway on the Avengers is over.

This time: A steel city nightmare.

We actually start with Wonder Man and Tony Stark touring a steel factory.

And the narration reminds us of the easily forgotten fact that Wonder Man aka Simon Williams and Tony Stark were once competitors. Until Simon Williams got in huge amounts of trouble for embezzling money and then agreed to let a Nazi scientist experiment on him and then died.

But this steel factory belonged to Wonder Man back before all of that and Tony Stark asked him to come on the inspection to help him decide whether or not to add the factory to the holdings of Stark International.

I might be a kind of insensitive gesture if Wonder Man gave a crap about his life as a businessman, which he doesn’t. He just seems kind of amused by the blast from his past.

Meanwhile nearby, some of the workers ooh and ahh over getting to see a real superhero like Wonder Man from so close.

The foreman, Joseph Conroy, brags about seeing Thor use this very factory to repair Mjolnir a couple years back. Conroy even found a chip of Uru afterward and made a good luck charm/keychain out of it.

One of the other workers says something weirdly threatening though.

One of the other workers: “Maybe you’d better switch to rabbit’s feet, Conroy. That lucky charm don’t seem to be workin’ too good lately... does it?”

Conroy nervously excuses himself to get Wonder Man’s autograph for his daughter.

Aww, Wonder Man actually has fans. Children fans.

But later as Conroy returns from getting said autograph, another worker jumps out of concealment and smacks him with an ore spoon.

Knocking him over the railing and sending him falling right into the furnace.

Where he just. Vaporizes. Eesh.

Alas Conroy. You cameo from a Thor comic, you.

Unfortunately, in addition to the tragedy of a man being murdered, him falling into the vat of molten metal also spilled some molten metal on the cauldron operator.

Who obviously runs off screaming, suffering terrifying injuries.

But the cauldron continues on its automated way, operating on a pre-set rate of flow which pours molten metal all over the manufactory floor.

Less than good.

There’s no time to get all the workers to safety so the crucible has to be stopped.

Tony tries to slip away to become Iron Man but Wonder Man grabs his briefcase from him and throws it across the factory to hit the control panel.

Leaving Tony Stark just sadly watching and thinking “Aw, geez. My armor...!”

Its like a brief but effective example of how secret identities can backfire. I love it.

And the gambit works. The crucible stops pouring.

But the already spilled metal is still flowing towards workers so Wonder Man jumps off the catwalk to go save the day.

Wonder Man: “Somebody’s got to stop that molten steel! And since I’m the only Avenger around, it looks like I’m elected!”

I do like Wonder Man sometimes. Despite his insecurity and self-doubt, when the moment comes he almost always steps up.

Anyway, this is the moment where Wonder Man takes some inspiration from not-named-but-totally-Superman cartoons, grabs some I-beams, bends them into U-beams, and dams up the molten flow.

And it works! You’re two for two on good ideas, Wonder Man!

Then he hears someone calling for help and he rushes in.

One of the workers tripped and someone got his fool ankle stuck in the stamp press.

He begs Wonder Man to turn off the press but Wonder Man doesn’t know how to do that.

Despite once being an inventor businessman, he thinks best with his muscles. So he decides to muscle this problem.

So he jumps under the press and holds it up, gloating that he once fought Thor to a standstill!

A steelworker: “But no one can hold a stamp press back! It’s set for fifty thousand tons!”

Wonder Man: “Don’t worry, friend -- I’m Wonder Man! I once fought Thor to a standstill! And if I can *ung* do that... s-surely I can *ghk* ... can *urf* f-fifty thousand, huh? HHEELLPP!”

Thankfully Tony Stark shows up, a sentiment some would say they never thought would be expressed.

He pulls the worker free and tells Wonder Man to jump clear.

Buuuuuuuuut.... Wonder Man accidentally.... stripped the threads on the thing.

If he jumps out head first, he’ll get a flattened bottom. If he jumps out feet first, a flattened head.

Tony Stark thinks of a third option though.

Grabbing Wonder Man by the belt and pulling him out in all one go so he clears the press.

Good job, Tony Stark.

Yet another sentiment that blah blah et cetera.

So here is part of why I find Wonder Man so endearing I guess. He sure does goof up a lot, often related directly to him bragging about how strong and cool he is. He’s a very human character for a character that’s no longer strictly human.

Wonder Man: “*Whew* That’s what I get for being cocky. Guess I still haven’t had enough experience as a super hero to anticipate all the angles. Thanks, Tony.”

MEANWHILE, AT THE MANSION OF AVENGE

A man approaches Avengers Mansion and tries to gain access with a card.

REJECTED

The security tentacles grab him and then a net is dropped on him, and then laser cannons activate.

So I guess the security system is working.

Agent Gyrich bursts out of the mansion and demands to know who this guy is and why he’s skulking about.

Sid Bloat: “I-I’m Sid Bloat, sir. I-I live down the street an’ I got this neighbor who’s been playin’ his stereo real loud, y’know? My landlord won’t do nothin’ about it, but since the Avengers are good-guys, I thought, well...”

Henry Peter Gyrich: “You mean you’ve attempted to breach a top security installation to solicit some of the most powerful beings on this continent... for a noise complaint?!”

Also the card he tried to use to gain access when prompted for a clearance card was a credit card.

I’m just flabbergasted by that.

I don’t know whether the line of thought was trying to unlock the high tech front door lock like you could with a less advanced lock using a credit card. Or whether he was trying to pay an entry fee. Good lord.

The Avengers all come out to see what the fuss is and Captain America tells the guy that the Avengers are a specialized organization and don’t reeeeeeeeally handle problems like noise complaints.

Gyrich tells the guy to go to the police.

Vision floats out through the wall and says he’s heard that the huu-man method in this situation is hitting a broomstick against one’s ceiling “can be an effective mode of communication in cases such as yours.”

Sid Bloat leaves to maybe take some of these suggestions into consideration but really is thinking he should have gone to the Fantastic Four.

I’m not going to look it up because I don’t want to be disappointed but if the concurrent Fantastic Four comic this month or the following month didn’t have Sid Bloat show up with his noise complaint then comics are a failed medium.

With that little nonsense over, Gyrich is satisfied that the security on the Avengers Mansion is adequate and that some random asshole off the street can’t just walk into the place like he did that one time.

He doesn’t like their newly won autonomy but orders are orders and he’ll be checking up on them from time to time. But for now, GOOD BYE.

And the instant he’s gone, the Avengers go ‘welp time to expand our roster just because we can.’

To be fair, they’re only going to ask Hawkeye and Yellowjacket. Two additional people plus I think Ms Marvel is sticking around because Scarlet Witch is still planning to take some ‘me time.’

Falcon actually suggests Hawkeye because he thinks it might ease the bad blood between Hawkeye and himself which-

Look, Falcon. I appreciate that you’re a nice guy who would think of Hawkeye when this opportunity came up. But the ‘bad blood’ is entirely on Hawkeye’s shoulders.

He’s blaming you for a thing you didn’t want to do but were emotionally blackmailed into by Cap to fulfill restrictions set up by Agent Gyrich. But Hawkeye took the brunt of his anger out on you, the Falcon.

Fuck ‘im is what I say.

Not that it matters. The contact number that Hawkeye left with the Avengers is out of service now that Hawkeye has a better gig and better digs working at Cross Technological Enterprises.

Meanwhile, Janet calls Hank “Giant Ant-Man Yellowjacket” Pym and lets him know that he can rejoin the team as a full-time Avenger but he’s enjoying having time to do pure research.

Also some chemicals are boiling over and he doesn’t want to be the jackass that spills chemicals on himself and gains superpowers. Nope, he’s the jackass that tested chemicals on himself on purpose without doing any kind of other testing on living matter first.

But me calling back to Grey Gargoyle and also throwing my hands up in defeat at the lack of safety protocols in comic book science aside, Hank hangs up on Jan to go deal with some chemicals that are boiling over.

Janet van Dyne, aka the Wasp: “Hank! What do you -- Hank? Hello? Ooo, Henry Pym, you’re infuriating! Just wait’ll I get home! I’ll show you! Or worse, I won’t show you!

Given what I know is coming, her trying to get him to rejoin the team has a foreboding feel to it. Geez.

Its true what they say. Not all of wisdom brings joy.

Later, after Wasp has gotten out of her superhero outfit to put on a nightgown to make a phone call to Hank and then gotten back into her superhero outfit to have a house meeting, uh, there’s a kind of house meeting.

Captain America: “Terrific. When we can’t add Avengers, they’re running out of our ears. But when we can add Avengers, everyone’s busy. Makes sense.”

Hah. A common problem to many in different permutations.

Beast suggests re-inducting Wonder Man. And I’m surprised it took so long for someone to make the suggestion. He was very recently with the team and verbally regretting that he’d have to leave it soon.

I guess they didn’t want to add too many people all at once and they wanted to soothe Hawkeye’s crybaby feelings and also wanted to let Jan hang out with her husband during superhero stuff.

But after that fell through, I’m surprised someone didn’t go ‘oh hey Wonder Man’ before Beast did.

But then, they’re besties. And I hope the X-Men never takes Beast back. Only bad things happen to him there. Or happened by him. I don’t think Beast would have broken the space-time continuum just to be a petty dick if he stuck with the Avengers.

Anyway, as we’ve seen, Wonder Man is in Pittsburgh with Tony Stark so why not bop over and surprise him with the offer?

But Vision notes that not all of them would be able to make the trip, seeing that Scarlet Wanda has her bags packed for her vacation time.

Vision: “Are you certain you must leave, Wanda?”

Scarlet Witch: “Yes, Vision. There are things I have to sort out. Things I’ve got to settle... on my own. Please try to understand.”

Vision: “Your decision is perplexing, my wife, and very human. I do not understand -- but I do accept.”

Vison + Scarlet Witch: “I love you.” -kiss-

Aww.

Geez. I’m really angry at John Byrne all of a sudden for no reason. Huh. Weird.

MEANWHILE, Pittsburgh.

The steelworkers set up a memorial for Joseph Conroy.

Since there’s nothing left of anyone who falls into molten slag, its tradition that the last ingot poured from the steel someone died in is set up on the grounds as a kind of tombstone. Tombsteel. Non-grave marker.

But the steel mill owner Vince Paretta is quick to reassure prospective buyer Tony Stark that this doesn’t happen often, swearsies! This plant has an A-1 safety rating! He then drags Tony off to finalize negotiations.

As the workers and executives leave the yard, the sky fills with dark roiling clouds. The recently placed ingot begins to quake and smoke and finally

OH YEAH

A giant naked flame man bursts out from within it.

Obviously, this kind of pyrotechnic makes some noise and inside the office, Stark, Paretta, and Wonder Man have heard it and see the fire man heading towards them.

Wonder Man tells Paretta to get his security team scrambled while Wonder Man goes to slow the thing down. But he tells Tony to stay right where he is, in the soon to be abandoned office.

Which conveniently gives Tony the opening to change into his armor.

Outside, this monster gets named in the most logical way possible. Some random thing that someone shouts at it, yelling "H-holy Hannah! That thing looks like a living inferno!” and thus we will call this creature Inferno. As the caption box lampshades “The description fits.”

Wonder Man rushes forward to fight the shambling mass of man-shaped slag. He just runs right up and puts all his strength behind one mighty THRAM of a punch.

“But Inferno takes that punch, and -- almost politely -- returns it!”

FWOBOMM and also a SKABASH as Wonder Man smashes through a wall, headfirst.

Iron Man flies up from behind the creature and attempts to take it down with a blast of repulsor. But the creature shoots some of its own molten slag substance at the armored Avenger.

He’s protected from the heat by the refractory coating on the armor but the extra weight from the cooling slag throws off his balance and he SPUTCHs to the ground.

And now that both he and Iron Man have been made fools, Wonder Man concludes that this Inferno is big trouble. He decides to activate the emergency beacon he was given when he became a backup Avenger.

But as he does, Inferno ominously looms over him.

IN THE RECENT PAST AT AVENGERS MANSION.

Jarvis is happy that the loosened restrictions on the Avengers means that he is allowed to perform monitor duty now. That way the Avengers are free to do the Avengersy stuff.

Makes sense.

You don’t have CEOs personally manning call centers. You probably don’t need a superhero to watch a bunch of monitors.

But maybe we should and do.

Anyway.

Just as Jarvis has said all of that, the emergency beacon goes off. Shortly, Ms. Marvel reports to Captain America that Wonder Man has activated his top priority emergency beacon.

Captain America: “But what could possibly be in Pittsburgh that could threaten Wonder Man?”

He was knocked out by a stone man once. Hell, he was knocked out by Beast once. Lets not act like Wonder Man’s durability isn’t highly arbitrary.

But here’s an additional thing. The beacon was designed to keep pleeping until shut off at the mansion OR if the beacon itself is totally destroyed.

And Wonder Man’s signal just stopped.

DUN DUN DUN!

Next issue: Battleground: Pittsburgh!

This is a two-parter and we’re only half done so I’ll have more to say when we finish that other parter.

One thing though: if the Avengers were going to end up going to Pittsburgh because of Wonder Man’s emergency beacon then why set up the plot point that they were considering visiting him to offer him membership on the team?

One or the other would have sufficed, comic!

Either they go visit and coincidentally end up there just when he needs help with a living inferno or they decide to offer him membership when he gets back from his trip.

I don’t know why this bothered me enough to comment on but that’s the world we live in now.

Hey, follow @essential-avengers. Not only for great content like this but older. BUT ALSO: I just remembered that I’d promised to cover some alternate Avengers if I hit 20 followers and we’re at 13. Which is more than half of 20 by at least three. If we hit 20 followers you can ask that I look at one of these significant alternate Avengerses. You could even ask me to take a peep at the Mangaverse Avengers or United They Stand Avengers, you bastards.

[thatishogwash]

The Shoujo Manga Experience

Bokuro Week Prompt 6 April 6th: Transportation

AO3

The train was crowded.  Well it was a Saturday afternoon and Bokuto had purposely choose that time to get his perfect moment after all, and his perfect moment called for a crowded train.  Bokuto only felt a little disappointed at having to leave the arcade early to make it in time for the most crowded train, he had done three weekends worth of research making sure the train was crushed with people as it could be.

It was his perfect moment.

Honestly it was Washio’s idea at first, he’s the one who reads all the shoujo manga and replays each one scene by scene while they are changing for afternoon practice.  Konoha had nodded along with each scene, he and Bokuto were the only ones in a relationship on the team.  Konoha and his girlfriend had done a lot of the same things done in shoujo stories.  Konoha had held his coat over them when it began to rain suddenly, keeping them close and both dry.  His girlfriend had rode on the front of his bike, they had gone out for a picnic, it just went on and on.

Bokuto was in a relationship too but he hadn’t done any of that stuff.  He had admitted that to the team and they had instantly gone into making fun of him, saying how of course he couldn’t do those things, they were romantic and Bokuto was anything but romantic.

Bokuto was out to set them wrong but so far everything had gone not according to plan.

It didn’t help that his boyfriend happened to be Kuroo, who was taller than Bokuto and even less romantic than him.  Plus they didn’t even go to the same school so that cancelled out so many things.

The day had been a disaster from the start.  Well not a complete disaster, Bokuto got to spend it with Kuroo which always meant it was a good day no matter what happened but Kuroo refused to be romanced.

But Bokuto was going to romance, shoujo manga the crap out of Kuroo whether he liked it or not!

Well, maybe not that aggressive, of course he would stop if Kuroo didn’t like something.  It would probably be easier if Bokuto explained what was happening too but none of the main characters in the manga he read explained anything, things just happened and he wanted it to be organic even if he had to plan everything step by step.

Except they were in the wrong positions and manga didn’t mention how stifling hot trains got in the middle of summer with a full crowd of people on them.  Kuroo was wiping sweat off his brow while Bokuto tried to ignore the briefcase digging into his thigh.  Also Bokuto had to hold onto Kuroo as Kuroo held onto the overhead rail.  This wasn’t wrong, Bokuto was suppose to be holding onto the rail and then someone would knock into Kuroo and Bokuto would save him by wrapping his arms around him.  It would go all soft and sparkly and both their hearts would beat a little quicker as they leaned forward-

“Bo, did you fart?”  Kuroo asked, a little too loudly.  A couple people twittered at them, moving away as Kuroo gave Bokuto a satisfied smirk at having given them a little more breathing room.

Kuroo was the least romantic person Bokuto knew, but he was still appreciative of the extra room.

“Explain to me again why we couldn’t wait an extra hour for the trains to be emptier?”  Kuroo asked as Bokuto tightened his hold on the middle blockers black tank top.  Bokuto definitely appreciated the view of Kuroo’s curled bicep reaching up to grab the overhead bar, but he could do without the up close and personal of Kuroo’s armpit.

“Because-” Bokuto dragged his eyes away from Kuroo’s arm to meet the dark hazel eyes of his boyfriend.  Maybe the problem was Bokuto kept trying to force Kuroo into the girls role.  Strangely none of the characters he read were tall, muscular, snarky provokers.  Maybe Bokuto would fit better if he was the girl?  Then again there weren’t any main characters like Bokuto either.

“Because?”  Kuroo grunted as someone knocked into him on the way out of the train.  He pressed forward, right against Bokuto who held on a little tighter.

“They set me up!”  Bokuto yelled once it clicked.  His team had been messing with him!  They had waited until Akaashi had walked out to start talking about it.

“What’s going on?”  Kuroo looked amused, leaning down to nudge Bokuto’s temple with his nose.  It wasn’t really romantic but Bokuto liked it, liked that Kuroo was a little rough, that he joked more than he was serious.

“Are you wiping your sweat on me?”  Bokuto asked when Kuroo had leaned down to rub his forehead against Bokuto’s blue tank top.

“I’m too hot!”  Kuroo groaned against him and Bokuto felt a bit guilty for forcing them on this mission with no winners in sight.

“Hot damn.”  Bokuto mumbled automatically.  Kuroo cackled against him, standing back up straight to start singing the song, in bad English, and to much of the annoyance of the rest of the passengers.

Kuroo’s eyes kept glancing left though, something a little darker entering his gaze.  Bokuto followed his line of sight, it was easy since they were taller than most people.  At first all Bokuto saw was a middle aged man in a suit, which wasn’t much, there was at least a dozen who looked just like him, beer gut, bald head and all but then he shifted to the left.  Bokuto almost started shoving his way over as he noticed the small girl curled up away from the man, trying to keep her bag between the two of them.

Bokuto was ashamed to know that he probably wouldn’t notice, despite his little sisters and his own mother complaining all the time about the trouble they have on public transport.  Bokuto just wasn’t that aware of the world around him, especially when his team had just betrayed him and his tall and attractive boyfriend was pressed up against his front.

Kuroo noticed these things, Kuroo noticed everything.  Kuroo was the one who noticed Bokuto started developing more than friendship feelings towards the Nekoma captain last year, before Bokuto had even come to terms with it.  Bokuto had worried that he’d ruin their friendship but Kuroo had put those worries to rest quickly.

It didn’t take much for Kuroo and Bokuto to make their way over to the girl and old man.  They were large and broad, intimidating to people who didn’t know them.  Bokuto worked hard on appearing friendly at all times but Kuroo liked to use his less than savory looks to his advantage.

“Oh ho ho?  What do we have here?”  Kuroo’s voice was like smooth velvet, but it cut like glass.  He was so tall he could lean right over the top of the girls head, pressing right into the older man's personal space.

“E-excuse me!”  The man stuttered out, pulling away from Kuroo’s leering face.

“What’s this?  Don’t like having your space invaded?  Don’t like being touched without permission?  How strange.”  Kuroo effectively wiggled himself right between the girl and older man, using his exceptional height to tower over the man.  Mostly Kuroo had terrible posture, unless he was playing volleyball, but he stood almost like a question mark but not right then.

“Hey hey hey, are you okay?”  Bokuto asked the girl in his softest voice, the one he usually reserved for when his sisters had a really bad day.  The girl nodded, glancing warily over at the man who was still being pushed back by Kuroo.  “Do you have someone who can meet you at your stop?”

“U-um yes!  Y-yes, I do, I-I’m meeting m-m-my friends.”  The girl's face turned red, shame making her drip her head.

“That’s great!  That’s a really cute charm, do you want to see a picture of my cats?”  The charm was a cartoon cat and the girl nodded hesitantly.  Bokuto pulled out his phone, pulling up a picture of his dad’s most favorite thing in the world, despite the fact that he had a son and two twin daughters and had been happily married for 30 years.

“She’s so pretty!”  The girl gushed, leaning closer and Bokuto curled down a little more to flip through the pictures he had.  Their cat was beautiful, pure white with huge blue eyes and long fur.  “Oh!”  The girl laughed, covering her mouth as the next picture was Konoha stuck in a trashcan, folded up and scowling deeply.  Ah, now Bokuto remembered why Konoha might have played the manga trick on Bokuto.  The trashcan incident of last month.

“That’s my teammate, he said I should throw my book report in the trash where it belonged so I threw him in the trash where he belonged but he got stuck.”  Bokuto happily distracted the girl with talk of his teammates, not really sure what Kuroo was doing any longer but knowing his boyfriend could take care of himself.

“Thank you.”  The girl whispered before getting off, no longer looking like she was holding back tears or ashamed for something she couldn’t control.  Bokuto watched her through the doors run up to two friends, one who towered over them both, and hug them tightly.  Bokuto waved when she turned back before turning around to look for his boyfriend.

“She got off,” The train was slightly less crowded so he could find Kuroo easily.  He had been making sure the man didn’t get off when the girl did.

“Good, you have a good day sir.”  Kuroo patted the man's shoulder, probably a little too aggressively, before they both made their way towards the doors so they could get off at the next stop.

“I wanted to have a shoujo manga experience.”  Bokuto admitted a little glumly.  Even if it had been a joke by his teammates, he still wanted it to happen.

“Oh?”  Kuroo asked, head tilted.  “So what was suppose to happen?”  Bokuto explained the crowded train plan he had, and Kuroo tossed his head back and cackled.

“Kuroo!”  Bokuto tried to sound offended but ended up laughing, his bad mood forgotten.

“Okay but all those are about before the relationship right?  They need excuses to touch each other, but you could just grab onto me if you wanted to.”  Kuroo reached above him, taking hold of the overhead bar and giving Bokuto a challenging little smirk.  Bokuto was never one to back down from a challenge so he made a move as if he was tripping, grabbing onto Kuroo’s tank top and pulling himself close to Kuroo.

“Oh no I tripped and the only thing to keep me upright was your pecs.”  Bokuto joked in a high falsetto voice.  Kuroo laughed, flexing the muscles which caused Bokuto to join in.  “This is much better than a shoujo manga.”  Bokuto pressed a quick kiss to the tip of Kuroo’s nose, watching as the other boys cheeks turned red.

“You’re so embarrassing.”  Kuroo laughed, hiding his face in Bokuto’s shoulder.

“Stop wiping your sweat off on me!”

“I’m too hot!”

“Hot damn.”

[redinkofshame]

FOR U HAVE TO FIX WAT U DID: “Stop asking me to put out the inferno that you lit inside of me.”

Alright, so, some context on this for everyone: last night, as I’m in bed, @tel-abelas-mofo here messages me to ask if I’m going to bed soon. I ignore the fact that I’m already in bed, because I’m having a hard time sleeping anyway, though I do tell her she should be in bed. She says she wants someone to be irresponsible with, though.Well, I’m glad to oblige! I share the story I was just telling myself in my head as I tried to sleep, because I have so many AUs I know I can’t possibly write them all, so who cares about spoilers, right?

Edit: This is a 1950s AU.But, normally, I’m a happy ending girl. This fic? It’s an exception. A painful, painful exception. And it takes me until 3am to freaking tell it, bc mobile, so we’re both just crying in the middle of the gd night when we could have been sleeping and happy instead.. So this prompt is a fix-it fic for the fic that hurt us. The one that doesn’t exist outside my head and only two people know about. A fix-it fic for my own damn unwritten fic.Enjoy. @dadrunkwriting

He clung to her in thedoorway, desperate, pleading. His hands framed her face, an inch in front ofhis own. Her eyes were bright, shining with tears that feel freely in a facelined with exhaustion and grief; he knew he looked just the same. Her handsgripped his wrists, holding on but holding back. He swears he can feel herwedding band digging into him. The matching band is worn by another.

“Please,” he wasbegging her. “There must be something I can say, some promise I can make, tohave you choose me over him. I will do anything for you, ma vhenan, I swear it.”

But she shakes herhead, again and again. Her voice is thick, raspy, broken. “I chose him before Iever met you, my love. You were thechoice I should never have made.”

It is unfair. He neverhad a chance; if he had known her back then…

“Please, don’t do this, if only—” he begins, but she denies himagain.

“I can’t. I’m sorry.In another world—”

“Why not this one?” heinsists.

Her only answer was tokiss him. It is their final kiss, and it is an awful thing, sloppy and shakyand breathless and wet with tears.

“I’ll never forgetyou,” she promises.

He can’t let her go,he won’t, but she pulls his hands slowlyoff of her and darts out the door. He watches, numb, as she pulls her collar upagainst the chill for the walk home, as she sobs into a handkerchief, and soonshe is around the bend, out of sight, out of his life. He imagines he can stillhear the click of her heels over the sound of the rain, the sound of his worldbeing lost, of his heart being ripped away from him.

“Allergies, again, Mr. Solas?”

Wynne’s kind voice broke him out of his memories, and henodded to the librarian working under him.

“It hardly seems to matter what time of year it is,” he liedeasily. He sniffed as he pulled out his handkerchief, and it is only half forshow. He dabbed at his running eyes by rote, and old familiar habit by now.

Everything he does is by rote, it seems. The last severalyears he has lived only out of habit. He goes through the paces, vaguelypursuing ambitions he could recall having when he was a younger man. When hehad heart. Now, he couldn’t seem to bring himself to care where his life ledhim.

“Oh, is that the latest ‘In Another World’?” Wynne asked.

A proud smile tugged at the corner of his mouth, despitehimself. “Yes,” he answered, running a thumb over her name on the cover: JANEA. LAVELLAN

She’d done it, had finally pursued publication on her own.Soon after they’d parted, it seemed. She’d been prolific ever since, publishingtwo or more novels a year, and gaining a very large readership.

He couldn’t help but notice that she published under hermaiden name.

“Did you read the acknowledgments at the end?” Wynne asked.

His brows knit together. “No, I’ve only just finished thefinal chapter.” It was what set off his remembrance. “Why?”

Not that he needed reason to read the notes that Jane leftat the end of her novels—her About the Author section was sacrosanct, holdingshared glimpses of her life, stories of her twins entering high school or her family’sstruggles with their new dog. Teasing hints of what it would be like to stillknow her.

“I haven’t read it yet, I’m still several book behind in theseries” Wynne was explaining, “but I hear it’s quite scandalous in this one.”

Distracted, Solas made some automatic response, a nod, maybea smile. He disappeared into the back room of the library, his office, to readin private.

ACKNOWLEDGEMENTS

As many of you know, Ilike to express my gratitude for those who help me turn my silly ideas intopaper and ink. From my editor at Tethras Publishers, to the research librarianswho spend hours explaining why I’m wrong, to my readers who make it allworthwhile: Thank you. Your dedication makes this happen.

But there is onereader in particular whom I’ve neglected. At least, I dearly hope he is one ofmy readers.

Because, you see,every book I finished has been for him. He is my Muse; every love story I’ve writtenhas been with the hope that someday he might read the words, and he would knowhow I wished our story had ended.

The memory of himfuels me, as though adding logs to an endless bonfire. I write, hoping eachsentence will help to douse the flames, that I might get some rest andreprieve. I am tired, yet I write, breathing the emotions his memory still fansinto me into my characters in turn.

I think that,somewhere out there, he must wish for my happiness. His memory haunts me, tellsme to accept the bed that I have made, to move on.

To his ghost, I say:Stop asking me to put out the inferno that you lit inside me. This is no bed inwhich I lay, but a pyre, and it will surely consume me.

That ours was not ahappy end was my doing. I alone made the choice to break both our hearts.

But oh, my Muse, I waswrong. I allowed my head to make a choice that belonged to my heart.

I know not whetherthis plea will ever reach you, or only ashes. Are you out there? Have youforgiven me?

Most likely I willhear nothing in response to this call. Perhaps you will reply with a kindletter, and a photograph of your happy family. Would I be strong enough to behappy for you, I wonder?

I’ve looked for youand found only cinders, and I cannot bear it a moment more, because if there iseven the smallest flicker of a chance that I would not have to wait for anotherworld to see you again…  I would tell younow what I should have told you so many years before:

Youare my choice.

~~~~~

Solas was beside himself, frantic, terrified of the painfulhope the burned in his chest until he choked. It couldn’t be real, not afterall this time. Is it possible she meant another, one who came after him?

His fears tormented him as he called the switchboard operator,the publisher, and every second on hold was a torture.

Finally his call connected, and he explained inelegantly thathe was calling about the note in Lavellan’s latest novel, that he needed tocontact her. The man, Varric, asked for his name to make sure it was actuallyhim and not a hoax. Solas gave it feely, but he was scared of the man’sresponse. What if that somehow wasn’t the name they were looking for?

“You’re Solas? No shit?” Solas winced as the man laughedloudly into the receiver. “You’ve made me a wealthy man, Solas! I have a lot ofbets to call in; I knew it was a long shot, but I just couldn’t bet against ourgirl Jane.

“Now, some day you’ll have to tell me how you got anadvanced copy of that book—it’s not set to hit the shelves for a few days yet—butfirst answer me this: What are you intentions with Jane?”

“I… Excuse me?”

Varric’s voice became serious, almost threatening. “Look,the woman has been through a lot. I told her that I’d help you contact her nomatter what, but—well, that was a lie. You see, I consider the woman to be afriend of mine, and she doesn’t need any more hardship. So if you’re alreadymarried, or planning to hurt her, or looking for a woman to mooch off of—”

“No! I assure you, I…”

“You what?”

What could he say? This was unexpected, sudden, he had noway of knowing what Jane truly wanted from him.

“I chose her long ago. I would give her only what she wouldhave of me.”

Varric chuckled.  “Ican work with that. Are you ready? Grab a pen. I can’t give you her address–security reasons you understand–but I can tell you what her phone number is.”He told Solas the information to reach Jane’s phone, but then added, “Though,you won’t be able to reach her this time of day.”

“Oh, alright. Do you know what time—”

“Yep, this time of day she’s busy working. She has a dayjob, after all.”

“Right, I—”

“She’s a librarian. In fact, I think you know the place, don’tyou? I believe you used to work there. Together. At the library. And, since youcan’t call…”

A breath escaped Solas, a small, broken laugh. “Yes, I thinkI understand you, Mr. Tethras. It’s a long drive… Will you tell her?”

“Now, where’s the fun in that? It’s a much better story thisway. Good luck, Chuckles.”

“I thank you, Mr. Tethras.”

~~~~~

Solas had been right—it was a long drive. Plenty long enoughto think and re-think, to worry, to wonder. This was foolish, he should havecalled. This all seemed so surreal; he’d gone mad, surely, this couldn’t betrue. Oh, but to see her again was worth the risk…

It had been early morning when he left his own library in arush, but he managed to get to hers before closing, every mile closer to hertown, to familiar sights, weighing heavy and anxious in his gut. The parkinglot was empty. He got out of his car, and only then thought to worry about howhe must look.

Hopefully not haggard, after spending the day speeding downthe highway. Older than when she’d seen him last, of course. His suit was in some disrepair; he’d let many things go unheeded in his time alone.

None of that mattered. He entered Skyhold Library. Herlibrary, once his, once where they worked together.

His eyes were drawn to her shape immediately. She wastowards the back, picking up a stack of books.

She looked up, saw him standing, but he couldn’t tell if sheknew him. He slowly removed his hat, out of habit.

She set the books back down.

“Solas?” Her voice was timid, but the library was empty,silent, and he heard her perfectly. His feet suddenly remembered their purpose,rushing forward with large steps as she said, “Oh damn that Varric, he couldhave warned me. I…”

Her voice choked up as tears formed in her eyes, herbeautiful eyes, and she took a few tentative steps towards him, but he wasalready to her. He was uncertain where to stop, but she reached for him, restingher hand along his face as if to check that he was really there.

He tried to say her name, but no noise came from him. Hecovered her hand with his, gripping her tight, and she felt real, so real.Their faces only a tense breath apart, he ran his thumb over her knuckles, andcouldn’t help but notice that she wore no ring. They stared at each other, eachquestioning silently, as his other hand skimmed her wet cheek. He wondered, onlyvaguely, when he had dropped his hat.

To the Void with words.

His hand wrapped behind her neck as he kissed her, hisheart, his lost love. She melted into him instantly, wrapping her arm aroundhim as he tried not to devour her, but he couldn’t help but be intense, ragged,as she easily bent backwards over his arm.

When, breathless, he allowed them space to breath, tried toremember that he was a gentlemen, her hands still pulled him to her. “Oh, mymuse… You saw it, then. My letter. Do you forgive me? You would allow me tochange my mind?”

“Ma vhenan… My heart made its choice long ago. It has beenyou, always you, every day that we were together, every day that we’ve beenapart.” He smiled, shakily. “I have had no choice in the matter. It is not asubject for debate.”

She laughed, and he wipes away the tears that spilled fromher eyes. “I’m yours, Solas. I’m sorry I didn’t realize it much, much sooner.”

“That would have been preferable, I admit.”

She laughed, pushing against him playfully. He made up forthe jest by kissing her again, softly this time, treasuring the feel of her.

When her eyes flickered open again, she said, “We have a lotof catching up to do.”