#the bay area is fucked up that time of year honestly like its got such sad vibes. in my hometown fall and winter are orange and white and

[thessalian]

Thess vs MCM Comic Con, Day 3

So before I start with the rundown of today, I will say this:

It was worth it.

I may not entirely believe that now, when everything fucking hurts and the stress and frustration of that level of people and noise and exertion and pain is still pretty much flattening me? But I know it was. The memory of how worth it this was will stay fresh long, long after the pain of the actual doing of it is gone.

So. Anyway. Day 3. Starting from after I made sandwiches and prepped to get an exchange on my d20-less gold sparkly dice.

We managed to get there in good time for the Critical Role panel. Now, obviously not in good time to get a seat in the main stage area where they were actually doing the panel, but giving it some thought, we didn't really want to be there anyway. We'd already been up close and personal with the Critical Role crew; we didn't need more than that. Plus the noise would have been way, way too much. So instead, we went over to one of the stages that was streaming the panel on their big screen. Which was better because the camera crew zoomed in when a question was directed at a particular person so we actually got to see them. And the panel was really good. It was so endearing when an audience member asked how they managed the whole thing with being business partners and friends and they talked about how Matt insists that they all hang out just as friends outside of the game space and the business space, and how Travis is this really supportive protective Big Poppa Bear of a CEO, and how it's easier with a group of friends than it is with a two-person partnership or trio because you've got people who can step in and mediate when tempers run a bit high ... and most of all when Ashley said she literally didn't know what she'd do without them (and then had to hand off the mic because she was about to start crying) and Sam said how he really just wanted them to be doing this - being the friends and family they'd become - for the rest of their lives ... and to wear a T-shirt with Matt's face on it at Matt's funeral. I honestly have zero worries about Critical Role LLC and its potential effects on their friendship. Seems like they're doing just fine.

There were no problems with taking my dice back. Thankfully, I got the same guy who sold them to me in the first place, though given the ambient noise and low light levels in the area, it was a bit of a struggle to get him to understand the problem. When he finally understood, he did go the extra mile finding me a replacement set. I repaid that kindness by stopping him when he went to put the dice set I was returning back into the box of merchandise for display / sale. Didn't want him to go through that again, y'know?

(Side note: turns out that the little golden shinies in my Alisaie-themed dice set are, in fact, small golden capital As. That's serendipity on a ridiculous level, right there.)

After that ... I admit it all caught up to me and on top of the body aches, spasms, and migraine, I remembered just how difficult it is to wander a convention hall with someone whose interests in terms of art and entertainment kind of vary from yours. So I suggested to Marion that we split up for an hour and a half, and meet up somewhere to devour lunch and see where we were going from there. I browsed a bit, but mostly I just found a place to sit down and watch the cosplay go by. I mean, I did make an attempt to go outside, partly for a smoke but mostly for someplace where I could be more than two feet away from any human being ... but it had started to rain and so I still ended up crammed under the awnings with my fellows who also wanted fresh air and/or nicotine.

By the time I met up with Marion again, I was getting to that "I am struggling to form coherent sentences" level of migraine, holding it at bay with some co-codamol that I took with the first can of A&W root beer I've had in years, and it was just what I needed, thank you. So we scarfed down lunch. I was honestly ready to leave right then, but Marion wanted one last turn-around to look for a couple of things she hadn't spotted in her first trip. I couldn't really deny her that no matter how much I wanted to go home, so we agreed to meet up in about an hour at the "Reset Room" (they had a room especially designed for people who just needed to decompress; probably the most useful thing they actually did in terms of accommodations, I have to say).

In that time, I caved and bought a copy of Flavours of the Multiverse - a D&D themed cookbook. It wasn't my only purchase of the day, mind you. I also got three pin-badges - one "That's How I Roll" one, one "Shiny Math Rocks" one ... and one that just reads "They/She". That and a "They/Them" nonbinary flag-coloured lanyard. At least there, I could wear those things without being too afraid. Anyway, after my few purchases and another trip outside (where, thankfully, it had stopped raining), I read my new cookbook until Marion rejoined me and we headed home. Unfortunately, on top of all the stairs at London Bridge and Elephant and Castle stations, there were a surprising number of people cramming themselves on the 363 at 5pm on a Sunday. So my Time of Squishening unfortunately got a little bit extended. Still, I am now home and have had coffee and more painkillers and I feel a bit better.

That was probably my last MCM Comic Con. It's definitely the last one I go to for all three days. The accommodations were insufficient (though in all fairness, that's entirely down to the organisers - the stewards were so nice and tried so hard to make things work when it was clear that the original organisational scheme was a shit-show), and the attendees ... well, most of them were really nice but I cannot count how many people I had to nearly throw myself at a wall to avoid because they were walking through a crowded convention hall while looking at their phones. Or just anywhere but straight in front of themselves. And public transport ... well, some of that "step-free access" is only on a technicality, put it that way, and it's actually easier to just struggle with the stairs if you can. I think the worst part of this has been that it's basically opened a window on another part of how hard my life is going to be now.

But never mind. I'm going to decompress a bit. I am going to make breakfast-for-dinner in the form of French toast and bacon, I am going to sit Marion down through the rest of Arcane, and I am going to enjoy my last evening with my houseguest. And at some point I am going to look into the work of the Hire A Bard guy I saw at the convention, who will set your character and/or campaign to music for a fee. This might be worth considering as a Christmas gift (however delayed) for the Cupcake Coterie.

Anyway. Yeah. I hurt. I am very much not at my best. But it was worth it.

[apsychicrage]

life update tiny brag played a show with Rubella Ballet, got to thank the guitarist (former drummer of Flux of Pink Indians) for being part of a project that changed my life (and buy a signed remaster of the album lol) and they were so so so sweet 😭 the new song i was nervous about performing fucking Went Off i honestly think it was the best song we did that night .

i have a full time job im considering whether i get credentials to continue full time next year and im thinking yes? i actually weirdly thrive on routine and i hate being broke lol

next paycheck im buying a ticket to CDMX so i can leave the american christmas stupidity to the american christians, ive never been i realized the tickets were fairly cheap (cheaper than some domestic flights) my spanish is getting good(ish) (i have a little gaggle of kids who dont speak english and hang off me making jokes in spanish ill call it a win) and i know people who live in cdmx (who come to the bay frequently) . I was gonna go like very early december but X is playing in Berkley and its truly likely one of their last shows ...

the election blows honestly more than i expected... this is the first election (i could vote in) where im not near trump country. I gotta get way outta the bay area to see how they feel ,, but trust and believe the bay is under some techie fascist shit. Oaklands new mayor undecided but theres a right wing recall of mayor that passed so we r gonna have a pro cop nutjob im sure. my neighborhood already crawls with corrupt police (exploiting street girlies) and its gonna b worse lol :(

election night itself made much better by punk music my friends (in the band above) made such a farce such a spectacle of the election it was perfect. I looked at results early and was like ah its a trump win and then didnt touch my phone the rest of the night. extremely bruised from the pit. I wore a sheisty during the set and ppl told me they recognized me from my dancing.

thinking about amping up cybersecurity (for me) and doing more mutual aid, amongst other shit i wont mention. Nervous that trump will try to expose sex workers (i have no doubt he will) as retaliation and as a former swer (who has some shit floating around the internet) im gonna join one of the sw activist groups here for sure. this is not a time to be still...

[automatismoateo]

A guy started scream-reading bible verses on BART (the Bay Area CA's public train) and then the funniest thing happened I've ever seen. via /r/atheism

A guy started scream-reading bible verses on BART (the Bay Area CA's public train), and then the funniest thing happened I've ever seen. This literally, actually happened years ago, I thought I'd just tell you the story. So a weirdo-looking guy gets on our car on Bay Area Rapid Transit (BART). We're mostly all on our way home from work in SF back to the East Bay. He stands in the middle of the car, pulls out his bible, holds it out in front of him, and starts yelling scripture at all of us. Lots of fire and brimstone-sounding shit. Of course most of us are scared and/or uncomfortable, a few people started grumbling, etc., I assume a lot of us were worried some kind of extremist religious terrorist attack was about to happen (America). After like a full two minutes of him yelling bible verses at us and everyone being scared/pissed off, this nerdy D&D-looking ponytail dude with a wallet chain reaches into his backpack and pulls out a book. Motherfucker stands up, holds out Lord of the Rings in front of him, and begins scream-reading Tolkien at the same volume as the dude reading bible shit. Jesus and Frodo were getting yelled at all of us neck and neck like dueling banjos. The whole car burst out laughing and cheering and the bible guy immediately got embarrassed and got off at the next stop. Fucking nerd chad saved the whole car. Several of us thanked him "that was awesome dude" etc. It was honestly one of the best things I've ever seen. This isn't exactly "r/atheist," but I thought it was on brand and you guys would get a kick out of it. It was so perfectly timed and the nerdy guy saving the car from the weirdo by out-weirding him was majestic (and poignant in its own way). Submitted August 02, 2024 at 10:26AM by GGAllinsMicroPenis (From Reddit https://ift.tt/8WAyYmQ)

[ghost-of-kurdt-haunts-my-room]

okay, i don't know if you guys know this, but billie joe armstrong grew up and got his start in the bay area

a few hours from where i grew up, and the same town AND time frame that my mother was in the scene

i know this is a bit more personal information than im usually one to share, but i think it's funny to mention because i love this photo.

you notice how nobody's dancing? or smiling? or headbanging? or doing fucking anything? that's because green day is opening this show. as they did CONSTANTLY. if you're a fan of punk, or 90s music, or music in GENERAL, check out bay area punk. they were wAY ahead of the curve and produced some of the best bands of their respective subgenres by far (jawbreaker's roaring and yet vulnerable take on skater punk, crimpshrine's brutal punk rock with elements of ska, surf, and skater, fifteen's quite honestly clairvoyant activist message layered under blistering bay punk, and of course, the gods of ska, operation ivy). this pushed green day, who were inexperience, young, hungry, and talented, to the fucking sidelines. the scene was bonkers. it was ahead of its time. it created what would become pop punk from the ground up.

so you might be asking yourself, why did green day become one of the most famous and enduring rock bands in the past 30 years? well, here's where the story takes a turn.

i love green day. they were the first rock band i ever listened to. but they're fucking sellouts.

the worst thing you can be.

all of these people got their start and based their careers on 924 Gilman St., an old cannery that got turned into one of the most revolutionary punk clubs of all time. it was the scene. and it had rules

Rule #1. No record labels.

That means no reach, no sellouts, no traitors. everything was under the table, in the club, the scene was exclusive to those who were really there and really cared. almost every single band was signed to an indie label called lookout records, which was owned by one of the guys who played at gilman all the time (Larry Livermore of the Lookouts) and worked with Tim Yo all the time, the guy who opened the club. They agreed. and everyone went along with them. if you wanted to play, you're not getting paid.

Because that's just not fucking punk. This seems harsh, but Larry and Tim were protecting the scene from big execs, big business, big record labels like geffen and motherfucking mtv because no matter WHAT happened, they were for the fucking people. for the downtrodden. for the have-nots and the ne'er-do-wells, the rejects, the others. They once rioted against a gang of 3 dozen or more Nazi Punks because Fuck You, That's Not Punk. and they fucking did it. Gilman is still kicking

and one. band. broke that rule.

green day.

billie knew he wasn't gonna make it past 1995.

he knew he didn't have what Tim Timebomb or Jeff Ott had, and im sorry to be so blunt, but he knew wasn't that talented.

so he sent a record to Reprise.

and they picked him up.

and i say all this because i want the world to know that at Gilman Street, the openers get famous and the headliners go down in the punk hall of fame. i want you, dear reader, to know the names like Larry Livermore, Jeff Ott, Tim Timebomb, Tim Yo, Jesse Michaels, Matt Freeman (one of the greatest bassists alive), Dave Mello, Anna Joy Springer, Rob Eggplant, Annie Laliana, Allison Wolfe, Molly Neuman, Erin Smith, Aaron Cometbus, Jack Curran, Lucky Dog, Mikey Mischief, Doc Frank, Jon Von Zelowitz and so many more. i know that's a lot of names. but those are all lives. those are the bricks of pop punk music. those are the foundation of the sound of bands you know. bands like simple plan, green day, blink-182, sum-41.

these are your architects.

Billie Joe Armstrong

[canolaaoil]

I remember childhood in yellow and blue

1. Who Can Sleep? Sally Davies // 2. @dakotajohnsongf // 3.Let Magic Surround You, Carmine Belluci // 4. @electraheart2012​ // 5. Kitchen, Larry Bracegirdle // 6. Hum Hallelujah, Fall Out Boy // 7. INTERIOR AT NIGHT, Ryan Kapp // 8. Letter for home, Felix Lee // 9. Monet’s House in Giverny // 10. @girlfromenglishclass​ // 11. @kernjosh​ // 12. On Turning Ten, Billy Collins

Description Follows

Post Description: 

1. [ ID: A photograph of a city at night. There is a skyline in the upper quarter in dark, navy blue, while the lower 3/4 of the image portrays an apartment building. Several windows in the building are lit with golden light in a random assortment around the building. In a few of the windows, sillouettes of people can be seen in black. End ID]

2. [ ID: an exerpt of a tumblr post, reading; let me tell you — sometimes i think this might be all a bad dream. every now and then, when the world is quiet enough, when the yellow light hits the ceiling just right, i feel like a child again. sometimes i wish i could find the spot where time is the weakest, touch it, tear it apart, and wake up on the sofa, behind my parents’ backs where i’ve crawled after some nightmare. from the tv, a laugh track. i’m pretending to sleep. its summer. see, the balcony door is ajar. see, there’s a mosquito trying to get in. see, my heart isn’t aching. see? End ID]

3. [ID: a painting in a stylized fashion of a cat sitting on a table from inside a house looking out a window at snowfall. there are papers on the table, a wooden chair, red and purple curtains around the window, a yellow patterned table cloth, and cups of coffee sitting nearby the cat. The cat is black. The walls of the room are golden yellow. End ID]

4. [ID: a tumblr post by user electraheart2012, reading; being alive is like: you want to go home. you don’t know where home is. you want to go home. you don’t know where home is. you want to go home. you don’t know where home is. you want to go home. you haven’t known for a long time. you want to go home but you don’t know where you’d go. you want to go home  you want to go home  you want to go home. End ID]

5. [ID: A painting in a semi-realistic, oil style, of a corner of a home. The colors are mostly warm yellows, oranges, and browns. From left to right there is a calendar, a doorway, a console table, and a couch. There are mirrors, and shelves with books lining the walls. On the table there is a lamp, which casts most of the light in the painting. The walls have wood paneling on the lower half and paint on the upper half, likely white or off white, but appearing soft yellow due to the lighting. End ID]

6. [ID: a screenshot of a lyric page, reading; And one day we’ll get nostalgic for disaster. End ID]

7. [ID: an oil painting,  portraying a rectangular set of windows, looking inside a home at night. curtains cover the left and right panels of the windows, and the center one portrays a wall in the distance with several pictures on a fireplace mantle. The painting is in mostly golden yellow and orange, with the window frame in dark navy blue. End ID]

8. [ID: a handwritten note on a blue, lined sticky note, written in blue pen. The handwriting is cursive. The note reads; Dear Mum, / Once you’ve cleaned this room and house, I won’t forget the sweet, strange and unforgetful memories. This box will contain most of my belongings and I hope for you to take care of it. End ID]

9.[ID: A photograph of a room in a house through a doorway. The visable room is a dining room, with a table with six visable white wicker chairs surrounding it, a white fireplace/mantle with blue vases and pottery decorating the top, and several paintings lining the wall.  The walls are painted bright yellow, and the triming of the doorways are painted light blue and white. The lighting in the dining room makes the entire room look golden, while the room the photographer is in is in regular daylight. End ID]

10. [ID: a tumblr post by user girlfromenglishclass, reading; Childhood made everything feel like it lingered. The time it took for hot chocolate to cool down was eternal. Christmas day took weeks. The two-hour drive to my grandparents’ house took us to a new world. It’s all too fast now. End ID]

11. [ID: a photograph of two people on a bed. Both lay on their backs. One is wrapped in a puffy duvet cover, laughing with their whole face, looking in the direction of the photographer. The other looks up at the photographer, with their shirt pulled up, with most of their chest exposed, just wearing a pair of checkered boxers. The colors of the environment are light blue; the duvet and the sheets of the bed. The walls are white-ish blue.  The people are warm colors; pink and brown. End ID]

12. [ID: an poem exerpt, reading; But now I am mostly at the window / watching the late afternoon light. Back then it never fell so solemnly / against the side of my tree house, / and my bicycle never leaned against the garage / as it does today, / all the dark blue speed drained out of it. End ID]

paragraph break

[ID: two lines of writing, underlined in yellow, reading “one day i was seven years old, / after that all i ever was was lonely.” end ID]

end post description.

[creekfiend]

I never heard of bluetick dogs before I started watching Moishe grow up on your blog! May I ask what some of his breed-specific mannerisms are? Is he a kind of working dog that needs a bunch of jobs? Or more of a chilling out dog?

Honestly I only have personal experience with our weird neighbor's dogs. Because they keep fucking showing up at our farm 😂 but his have really nice temperaments. A couple of his older dogs turned up here like a year or two ago and just vibed around the place like goofuses. We closed them in our shed/pen area to keep them safe while we tries to contact the breeder and they were here for over 24 hours and just... chill. Very sweet. Very smelly. Very dog neutral and people friendly

In general the impression I get about coonhounds is they should be like that -- although I hear some lines or breeds can produce aggression problems, like a friend of mine with a redbone says she hears about aggression popping up sometimes with those but idk

They're pretty much only used by old school hunting guys who are pretty offline compared to a lot of other dog breed communities and who tend to have pretty different priorities as well. But I will say that the local blueticks have all been exuberant at times but easygoing, not hyper or anything. And hounds should always be dogs that 'pack up' easily which is nice in multidog households

Its always a toss-up how a dog from lines mostly bred to live in kennels will adjust to living in a house but all the coonhounds I know of who are pets have adjusted just fine and tend to be lazy in the house

Moses has been an easy-ass puppy. He self regulates astoundingly well and I'm honestly jealous because he will do stuff like PUT HIMSELF DOWN FOR NAPS when he gets tired, which... **looks at Lambchop** lol

My mom has been really sick recently and not as able to get him out and was expressing guilt about it to me the other day because Moses has been just FINE about napping with her in bed all day apart from a couple like, 30min bouts of puppy silliness/zoomies etc. Like he just doesn't care.

Definitely not the same vibe as, like, breeds that you hear "they need a job" about, lol, I think those tend to be herding type breeds and they adjust less well to being pets than scenthounds, when you take one from a working farm sitution and make it a house pet, but that might be an overly broad generalization

With coonhounds they're not going to be super like, handler sensitive (or sensitive at all lol) and that's where the "stubborn" thing comes in I think. Although since Moses showed up SO early, and we have been raising him carefully and with lots of puppy culture foundations, his handler focus is honestly much stronger than I expected but I don't know how much of that is due to his innate temperament etc as I don't know any of his immediate relatives. In general the adult coonhounds that I've met seem to have a "yes I love you so so much let's kiss okay I'm going to go do hound stuff now bye :)" approach to people, lol

In general they'll follow their noses!!!!!!! They'll run off and they'll bay. That's what they were bred to do. Moses' baying is really weird sounding and yelpy right now like a goofy teenage boy 😂 we started really strong with his recall and check-in training to try and balance any "running off" tendencies he might develop in adulthood but right now he's amazing and gets lots of cheese for coming to find us when he has off leash time around the farm. Unlike some other dogs that might have "run off and tree an animal" urges, coonhounds don't seem to be fence testers in my limited experience

BUT YEAH I have a data set of like, 4 dogs?? In terms of personal experience. Anyone else who has more please feel free to weigh in. If you got this far, here is my mom's little buddy for ya :)

[fragilecapric0rnn]

It’s Fanfic Writer Appreciation Day and there happen to be some writers that I appreciate and want to show my love to them for sharing their talents with us! 

(Steddie Edition bc they are on the mind 24/7)

The Steddie brainrot has led me to reading a TON of fic. So, I am finally making a rec list of all of the fics that have not been able to leave my brain since they walked into my life. 

As I was compiling this list I noticed a running theme and that is that these are all future fics and what can I say? I’m just a simple girl who’s a sucker for Steve/Eddie in the 90s/early 2000s. I think it has something to do with my love for romcoms from this era and thinking of them as older just makes me want to fall to the floor. 

So here they are, in no particular order: 

1. the most remarkable thing about you standing in the doorway is that it’s you by @greatunironic; 

Sixteen years after the world didn't end for the last time, Max Mayfield showed up on Steve’s doorstep and said, “You gonna walk me down the aisle in May or what?” 

Or, it’s 2002 and Steve Harrington attends a wedding, a funeral, and a birth. (Word Count: 34,990)

The way that this fic bore into my soul, I seriously can’t think about it for too long without getting emotional. This one feels like a given considering the fact that I am now getting TikToks my fyp of people out of context referring to this fic, which is how I stumbled upon a recommendation of it. If you haven’t read it yet, PLEASE DO. It’s a national treasure at this point. 

2. Let us Dwell in Fair Ithilien and There Make a Garden series by @sparklyslug and @greenlikethesea (Word Count: 61,151) (Description from Three Weddings and a Funeral) 

Steve Harrington falls in love and gets married. Not in that order. Some other stuff happens along the way too. But those are the two big things. That first one especially.

(Or: celebrations of life)

This series, much like aforementioned most remarkable thing, is set mostly in the future with the gang as adults, and Steve and Eddie dancing around their feelings for each other for nearly 15 years. That is a gross oversimplification in my opinion because it is honestly so much more than that! Like, it’s set in the future, but there is time jumping, and references to previous parts of the series, its just it’s own universe within the ST universe! Ugh, I got flustered trying to put coherent thoughts to how much I fucking love this series and the way that these two have crafted am entirely new canon for me to latch onto. Go read this. Like right now. I also suggest reading it in the writers’ suggested hard mode! 

3. Keep It for Me by @stereobone; 

It's 1993, and Steve is attending Lucas and Max's wedding. It's 1993, and no one has seen Eddie Munson in seven years. (Word Count: 9,741)

For one thing, the little NorCal girl in me was foaming at the mouth at the thought of a chunk of the party living in The Bay Area as adults. This one has the meeting again years later element, which is just so good! This also has writer!Eddie which made my heart burst, and the pining and reunification of it all. Again, I have a hard time putting words to how much this fic has nestled its way into my heart! Repeat: GO READ IT!!!

4. alone again, or by @pizzaqueen; 

It’s 1991 and Steve is still in Hawkins, still living with his mother, still single, and still working at Family Video. At least he’s the manager now, for whatever that’s worth. But he’s stuck here while Robin and Dustin and everyone else have moved away. Moved on.

Well, everyone except for Eddie.

They're best friends, spend most of their time together, and it's nice to have a friend like that. But Steve is still looking for love with a capital "L". At least, he thinks he is. (Word Count: 20,765)

This one is definitely different than the ones I talked about above. But, this one is still fucking fantastic! More of a coming-of-age vibe in a we’re twenty somethings and life looks a lot different than we thought it would and I think thats okay kind of way. Which spoke to me in a way that I also kind of need right now as a twenty something who feels just like that :’) Also love the character of Steve’s mom, which is something we don’t see a lot of, Steve having a supportive parent, and it is very sweetly written. This fic felt like a popsicle on a warm day. READ! IT!

Again, happy Fanfic Writer Appreciation Day! Let’s keep showing our favorite writers love every day of the year! 

[windandwater]

twice now at the beach I've cornered professionals working there to yell at them about marine animals and the ocean and find out more about what lives there so here's what happened both times.

The first was at Assateague, one of my favorite places in Maryland, I highly recommend going there if you are ever in the area. It's part of a long barrier island and you get both bay/marshes & ocean beaches and both are full of amazing wildlife.

On the way in/out of the beach there was a little "nature corner" booth with a guy with stuff like egg casings, replica seal skulls, seal skin, etc. Of course I quizzed him on every single thing on the table and started asking more questions (you get seals here? what time of year? how far north do they go? what about whales?) which led to my favorite thing of all which is animal people telling me about their favorite animal and his is whelks:

Whelks have two ways of killing their prey, which is usually bivalves. One is to get the edge of their shells between the seal of their shells and pry them open and suck them out.

The other is to clamp down on top of them and release a mucus that drills down through the shell of the bivalve and dissolves it and suck them out that way.

Me, absolutely delighted: "wow it's a bad day for that bivalve" Him: "oh yeah it's all over for them"

He also had a fish that looked like a pufferfish but wasn't quite, though it was related to them, which got me started talking about the love of my life boxfish. I mentioned I'm really annoying in aquariums and he said "Yeah just going up to random people and telling them all about the fish they're looking at..."

Me: "Actually YEAH I just got back from London where they had a boxfish and I was staring at it for a really long time so when this couple came up and I told them all about it..." (true story I had never seen one in person before!! and I was staring at this random tiny yellow fish and felt I needed to explain myself and also couldn't help it) Him: "That's gonna be me with whelks someday." Me: "Well I loved it!!! I love learning stuff like this, thank you."

We also saw a couple probably-dead horseshoe crabs and a definitely-dead ray in Ocean City (that we pushed back into the water after some random family started picking them up and posing for photos with them; guys nature is not a toy, respect it and don't fucking play with dead animals, what the hell). And in "there's something wrong with me" news, some girl told me she saw a fin while we were swimming and she thought it was a shark and I was horribly disappointed when it turned out to be dolphins. But we saw dolphins!

A guy caught a fish right as I walked past his line in Assateague, which was not as cool as the time someone caught a shark there when I was a kid, or the ray someone else caught before I got there, but it was really exciting and he called me his good luck charm.

So that was Assateague. I love it there. There are also wild horses, btw, and we saw a couple of those as well! I've been so many times that I'm pretty immune to them by now but I hopefully got some good pics.

Anyway THIS weekend I decided it was high time I went to the Rockaways and oh man. New favorite New York beach. I almost got pinched by a crab! I felt its claw close around my toe and yanked my foot away in time but I honestly got so excited. ... I know, I'm broken inside. But it's really because to me that says it's a healthy/clean area.

...And because it gave me an excuse to pump the lifeguard for information about the wildlife on that beach, which I immediately did. He confirmed that crabs do live there and if they really get you it hurts like a motherfucker. But mostly I wanted to know if there are ever whales there because I know they do come into the East River, and apparently they do not but tons of dolphins do in the early morning. They get some sharks but not a lot (boo) but have had Great Whites and sea turtles wash up nearby, which is sad but you have to hope they died of natural causes :(. I learned at the NY aquarium that actually there is a TON of wildlife that lives/migrates just a few miles off the coast of New York City; it's actually crazy that maybe two or three miles out there are sea turtles and whales and sharks. He confirmed hearing that and I'm like yo I learned that at the aquarium you should go.

Mostly I learned that lifeguards are extremely bored on duty, I kept being like oh I probably shouldn't bother this dude and he kept talking, it was great.

Anyway I know I just talked a lot about basically nothing but it's exciting to me. Since I don't have to live close to the office (where I lived for 10 years, I’ve been in NYC for 11 years, for reference/anyone new) anymore I am seriously considering a move to be closer to the city's beaches and to live somewhere where I can have an outdoor area and possibly a small back garden so part of this is scouting out what I want to be closest to when I finally save up to move. I think the Rockaways is the beach I want the easiest access to. I never even considered the possiblity of growing outdoor plants in this part of my life so when I think about it it's a little hard to imagine but also feels so good and right. I adore my apartment and my neighborhood but it's been 10 years and it's time to think about what I want for the next 10 years; and when I visualize it, it's a little house with a garden close to a beach and some new parks.

So there you go. That's a life and weird fish update for you, all in one.

[lillian-nator]

Ranch AU

Or, as we all call it, The Cowboy AU 

Essentially, this was something that I created, and it’s gonna be purely fluffy, with a small bit of angst here and there. Any of the angst will be hurt/comfort. It’s meant to make us all feel better after those fucking harsh lore streams. I started it, based off of some shit in the Dad!Schlatt AU, and after that I honestly didn’t write most of it. It had really been a project in the discord, because we were all sad and shit, so if you have some fluff to offer, please do! I am happy to make almost anything canon - and we could always use more ideas. :)

I hope you enjoy some mindless farm boi fluff!

BASIC INFO: 

It's SBI's Ranch (Phil is Dadza, Tommy, Techno, and Wilbur are his sons)

Phil, sells to the local stores, and manages the crops. He doesn't do too much labor anymore. He hired his boys for that.

Dream, SapNap, Purpled, Tubbo, Callahan, and Punz are all hired farm hands

George, Niki, Ranboo, and Fundy work at the shop where they sell their products; Niki makes all of the dairy products, Fundy and Ranboo stock, label prices, and keeps track of sales, and George works customer service with his Gogy magic.

Wilbur works with the sheep, the goats, and he trains the dogs (Collies - they herd sheep), he also works with the crops a lot

Schlatt isn't hired but he might as well be. He can be found wherever Wilbur is, and is probably drinking a beer he stole from Phil. He doesn't get paid, but he eats all of their food.

Tommy works with the cows, the pigs, the chickens, the horses (sometimes), his goose, and the dogs / cats that they own

Tubbo works with Tommy. Essentially. But he also works on the crops, and the bee farm that they have set up.

Techno works with the horses, and is currently training to be a veterinarian.

Dream works on horses with Techno - they race the horses competitively - but otherwise, is where ever he is needed (usually crops)

Purpled works with Tommy and Tubbo. He mostly works with Tubbo on crops and his bee farm.

Punz and SapNap haul things. As your resident Chads, they are in-charge of moving heavy things and doing manual labor.

Callahan is their repair man. He fixes tractors, and machines on a daily basis.

SOME HEADCANNONS: 

HENRY, a saga:

that henry has a matching bandana to the one Tommy has so that everyone knows thats henry. Tommy doesn't like it when people touch henry so henry gets a bandana - Shark -

when Phil first started raising Tommy, he would've never guessed that he would turn out the way he did.

He was loud, and brash, and hit his brothers, and made fun of the neighbor's kids,  but then Tubbo became Tommy's best friend, and then Phil introduced Tommy to the cows.

The cows are Tommy's everything.

When a Bred Heifer is due, he sits with them everyday past their due date - he sat with Betty for 5 days when she wouldn't birth a calf. He was so fucking worried.

When one of his cows are sick, he sleeps in the barn until they get better. His last days with Harvey fucked him up.

Tubbo, Tommy, Purpled, and Ranboo spend long nights at the farm, and Tommy always leans against Henry as he stares up at the stars.

Henry who his best girl (all cows are girls and Tommy doesn't give a shit about gendered names). Henry who wears a matching bandana. Henry who is fluffy, and warm, and Tommy's everything. -

Sometimes when Tommy had a bad day, whether it’s stress, or school, or just whatever, Tommy sleeps in the Henry’s stall with her. Phil has so many pictures of Tommy curled up with Henry. From when she was first born to now. - Eye

Tommy hates winter because that’s the one time of year Phil won’t let him sleep in the barn. Even with the layers and heat lamps it’s too unsafe. Tommy always gets up extra early in the winter. Both because he has to check and break ice in the water troughs but also because he misses his girl - Eye -

Henry's mother, Betty, was the first Cow Tommy had helped during birth. He sat with her for 5 days when she hadn't gone into labor past her due date. It took 9 hours for Henry to be born, and Tommy was there through the entire thing -

Well, almost the entire thing. He was at school for the first hour of labor, and was so pissed at Phil when Phil knew and didn't immediately come get Tommy from School.

It always felt like Tommy and Henry had a special bond because Tommy literally raised Henry from birth. -

They didn't think Henry was gonna make it when she was first born, but Tommy was fucking determined, and bottle fed that cow every single day and night. When she was slowly weened off milk, Tommy got unironically sad that he didn't have to bottle feed her anymore.

He still visited her every morning, and milked her mother at dawn, right after he got eggs from his hens. -

Henry waits for Tommy at the end of their long ass drive way when he gets home from school. She knows that when the bus pulls up that her boy is back and so she’s always there waiting lazily for pets and a nice walk together back to the house. Even when it’s cold and someone is waiting for the kids to get home in an ATV or something Tommy always walks back to the house with Henry - Eye

Thinking about how long these fucking country roads are. And how Tommy and Tubbo have the same bus stop even though Tubbo and Tommy's houses are a couple of miles away. Tommy has to walk a mile to get to the beginning of his driveway, and seeing his favorite girl there is like a reward at the end of a journey. Tommy probably keeps a bag of feed in his backpack, which is just a mixture of grain, hay and corn, and gives Henry a handful to thank her for waiting for him.

Clementine, The Goose: 

Tommy has a goose, and names it Clementine. 

He found her in the woods one day, when she was very young, and he decided he was going to keep Clementine. 

Clementine is only ever nice to Schlatt and Tommy. No one knows why. 

Clementine follows Tommy around. Very endearing. 

Phil doesn’t question it at this point 

NEW MILO, the sequel:

OG Milo is a kitten that Wilbur found on the side of the road, in the rain, and he took the kitten in, trying to save him. Wilbur immediately got attached.

Techno pulled an all nighter, half spent  trying to save OG Milo and the other half comforting Wilbur. "You couldn't have helped, he was too starved and out in the rain for too long." Phil adds that if Techno can't save something, it can't be saved. - Ethan

Wilbur's next cat was named New Milo in honor - Ethan

Anyway, New Milo has three kittens. Blood God, Boots (given to Fundy), and Bumbles (given to Tubbo). They're called the Bees and they were born Christmas Eve - Ethan

BLOOD GOD, the pussy:

Blood God is Techno's cat. Its just a ferall little molly that loves techno too much. - M -

After Techno helped New Milo have her litter, he wasn't originally gonna keep any of the kittens, but he saw this tiny thing with the orange muzzle and just: stole her.

He is also nicknamed Blood God, for both his skill in hunting and healing

He originally named her Piglet because the orange spot looked like a pig snout [the main reason he chose her and not her stronger littermates] but called her Blood God teasingly when he first adopted her

Wilbur didn't realize he meant it as a nickname and told everyone her name was Blood God

Techno still calls her Piglet, but everyone else calls her Blood God because that's the name on her collar.

Most of their cats aren't collared, but Phil made her a custom collar because he was worried she'd get lost hunting with Techno and Dream - Ethan -

Blood God is such a batshit cat. She's a runt, really, oddly small compared to her siblings, and she's their best mouser

She's the cat that everyone leaves scraps for, but never tries to pet out of fear

Often she'll climb up people's legs and sit on their shoulders, and it's the only time you can pet her.

She is very, very affectionate with Techno and he loves her very much. He has her very well trained, and she comes with him and Dream when they go hunting sometimes alongside a terrier.

She's a little itty bitty calico molly and she has an orange patch right over her muzzle - Ethan

TOMMY'S HENS, the chicks:

He gets real defensive of his hens. They lay eggs for him. They deserve to be treated well. -

Tommy does in fact have an egg incubator; Sometimes it's just better. Tommy prefers letting his hens care for their own eggs, but he does still use the incubator - Ethan -

Some chickens enjoy being thrown so they can flap and shit. A few days after passing ownership of the hens to Tommy, Phil is going down to the crops and just sees Tommy chucking his hens and watching them rush back to be thrown again

he feels a hint of "what the hell" but he notes the gentleness tommy does it with and how the chickens seem to be enjoying it and he shrugs and keeps walking - Ethan -

Once Wilbur was helping Tommy with the chickens and he dropped an egg

Unfertilized, of course, but Tommy looked like you'd just punted a toddler

Three years later, Wilbur isn't allowed to touch the eggs anymore

Tommy's paranoid he'll hurt a live one

"Get out." "What - Tommy it was an accident, it was just one egg." "If you aren't gonna treat Phoebe's eggs with care; You can get the fuck out." "Tommy -" "Out." -

the quality chicken eggs depends usually on how the chicken feels. While under his care, the eggs the chickens produced were really good.

Under Tommy's care? Phil's eggs tasted like horseshit in comparison - Ethan -

They have their like, main barn and to the side of it is a little pond. The chicken coops are a little beside it, with the singular duck coop (he only has four ducks) closest. He calls the area the Business Bay

AGES: 

Tommy - 16 Tubbo - 16 Purpled - 17 Ranboo - 17

Techno - 19 Wilbur - 21 Schlatt - 19 Phil - idk like 45 or some dad shit

Fundy - 18 Niki - 19

SapNap - 18 Dream - 19 George - 20 Punz - 19 Callahan - 20

RANDOM HC’S: 

Tubbo, Niki, Ranboo, and Fundy are siblings. -

Whenever they eat meat they talk about who they're eating. 

They tell stories about their day and such but they always start dinner, when its meat, saying "rip lmao" and telling stories about them

...they don’t do it when they eat beef

Everyone sitting down with their plates of ham Wilbur: so who was it? Phil: Fern Tommy, already eating: rest in peace fern Techno: he shat on my boots once -

Each of the boys get a few animals that aren't allowed to be butchered.

Wilbur has Friend, Enemy, and Skit the Bull. (Wilbur wanted to name a Bull "Shit", but Phil said no because Tommy was 11 and already swearing too much for his liking)

Techno has none of the livestock. He only cares about Blood God, and his horses.

Tommy has a pig [currently unnamed], his Hens (6 or 7 of them, that lay eggs), and his dairy cows -

Phil is ALWAYS chewing on straw. -

Tommy, Techno, and Wilbur all call Phil "Pops" or "Pop". They all used to call him "Papa" though. It's like a coming of age thing for the three of them, when they stop calling him "Papa" and start calling him "Pop".

Phil may or may not have cried when Tommy started calling him "Pop" at the age of 12.

ALTHOUGH, all 3 boys know that if you want anything, you call Phil "Papa". Phil can't resist it. -

Techno and Tommy with starry eyes: pops Phil: no Wilbur: Papa Phil, with slightly less confidence: n-no   - Ethan -

Tommy holding a baby calf in his hands that he walls to bring inside for the night because hes in love with her: papa please!! Phil, practically in tears: fine.   - M

[cinnaminsvga]

Taming of the Bridezilla | Seokjin

→ summary: Picture this: You had been (not-so) cordially invited to the wedding of your least favorite cousin—a woman who had been hellbent on making your childhood a living hell. Now older and wiser, you would think that you would put aside your differences and attend your cousin’s special day without any hard feelings, right? You wouldn’t seek revenge, now would you?

→ genre: fake dating!au, i2l, humor/crack, fluff  → warnings: seokjin and oc paradoxically have big yet small brains, fake proposals, not-so fake mutual pining, thinly veiled baby-making jokes, terrible family members, ass slapping (no worries it’s consensual) → words: 6.3K → a/n: first of all, no this is not a horror fic; i just thought the title was funny. unless you consider the stupidity of the characters to be mildly horrifying, then sure you can count this as a horror fic. this insanely ridiculous fic was commissioned by @breadoffoxy!! anyone who loves chaotic jin is an angel in my book. yes, this comm is a bit longer than expected but what can i say... i love me some jin. anyway i hope you guys enjoy!

“You got the ring, right?”

Seokjin pats his left breast pocket and gives you a quick smirk. The bump where the ring should be is fortuitously hidden by his large and garish boutonniere, looking to all the world like he had pinned a whole head of cabbage to his suit. Even then, he still somehow manages to make it work. “Of course I did. This entire plan would be useless if I didn’t have it,” he says.

“What flavor did you get? I quite like the watermelon one,” you muse, smacking your lips in anticipation. “Though it’s hard to remember since I haven’t had a ring pop in years.”

Seokjin laughs loudly, startling a group of aunties gossiping in the corner. They all shoot glares at him, though the effect has lost its novelty as they’ve already been glaring at you from the moment you arrived. You suppose that they have a good reason to, considering that you both arrived at the reception an entire 30 minutes late. You can imagine them cursing you under their breath, saying something like, “You’ve brought dishonor to us all!” or whatever it is that aunties like to say these days.

“I could have gotten you all the flavors available at the convenience store if you wanted, but then we’d be 40 minutes late instead,” Seokjin sighs, pretending to be anguished at the thought.

You snort in the most unladylike manner that you can, grinning wildly when you hear one of the aunties gasp in horrified disbelief. From the way they’re reacting, you might have thought that you just flashed them your Borat-inspired neon green thong.

“I do love a man who can treat me well,” you giggle, earning a soft pinch from him.

“Oh, hush. I know you love it. You nearly burst into tears the other day when I bought you a McFlurry because your broke ass was a dollar short,” Seokjin teases. You squawk indignantly, unable to come up with a retort.

“Whatever! Just because you’re a trust fund baby doesn’t mean you get to bully my impoverished state. Just you fucking wait ‘til I get hit by a wealthy 77 year old’s BMW and then I’ll be made for life,” you huff, your illusion of annoyance quickly shattered by the large, dumb grin on your face. “Hey, would you still love me if I broke all my limbs but had a massive bank account?”

“I’d rather buy you McDonald’s for the rest of your life than see you in pain,” he answers simply, patting you gently on the head. “Though I suppose helping you inject thousands of calories into your bloodstream would also cause you pain later on in life, but hey, at least you’d go down doing what you love.”

“Oh, yes. Keep talking dirty to me. I love it when you talk about the ways you’d kill me by association.” You laugh, casually looping your arms together as you walk past the slowly growing crowd of aunties and entering the reception hall to find your seats. Almost everyone is already in their seats, with a few guests milling about and greeting one another with tight-lipped smiles and hollow laughter. The sight brings goosebumps up your arm, bringing back terrible memories of having to make niceties with these people despite knowing that they despised you and your less affluent family.

Remember, you’re only here as a representative for your parents, you tell yourself. You’d rather bear the brunt of the thinly-veiled insults than to have your parents have to experience this hell. Besides, you have big plans for today, and they would only be brought to an end if your mother ever found out what you wanted to do in the first place.

“As they say… We’re here for a good time, not a long time, which I suppose is our philosophy for tonight as well,” he quips back. He taps you lightly on the hand, wrenching your gaze away from the magnificent chocolate fountain on the dessert table and back to his somewhat less magnificent face. A straight-up lie, but it is the only defense mechanism you have in your arsenal that can keep you from staring at how gorgeous he looks in his suit and tie like a braindead idiot. Denial, after all, hasn’t failed you during the last five years that you’ve been in love with your own best friend.

“What is it?” you ask, curious when he furtively points out one of your cousins near the front of the hall. “That’s Namjoon. Do you know him?”

“Know is a strong word,” Seokjin hums, winking at your cousin when he happens to turn towards the two of you. Namjoon’s eyes light up when he sees him, but his excitement immediately vanishes when he notices who Seokjin has beside him on his right arm. You could see the mental cogs going on inside Namjoon’s head as he stares at the two of you, but you don’t get to see him reach a conclusion before Seokjin is pulling you away, walking in the opposite direction.

“Seokjin? What was that all about?” you ask, though you have to admit you’re kind of afraid to know the answer to your own question. As much as everything about tonight’s scheme had been your idea, you can’t help but think that Seokjin’s intense enthusiasm to help you isn’t merely out of his own desire to help you as a friend, but rather due to his innate calling to cause chaos wherever he goes.

“I have a secret bonus surprise for the bride and groom once we get kicked out from this joint after we do our thing,” he says. “And, dare I say, it’ll be quite a treat for all the guests here.” The smirk on his lips is downright heinous, only exacerbating the frantic racing of your heart. There must be something wrong with you, not with how badly you want to do unspeakable atrocities to him and his evil-looking ass. Or perhaps he was simply put down on Earth to test your slowly fraying sanity.

He snaps you out of your dumbfounded, horny stupor when he continues, “If everything goes according to plan, then we’ll truly end this night with a bang, no pun intended.”

“What was even the pun there?” You raise a brow, slightly disconcerted by the way Seokjin was struggling to keep his laughter (at his own joke) at bay. “You know what? Don’t even answer. I guess I’ll just have to find out later tonight.”

After some pointless meandering while the two of you locate your seats, you are finally able to locate your table, unsurprisingly situated near the farthest corner of the hall where no one would have to see you. You’re honestly more surprised that your newly-wedded cousin had even remembered to give you a seat, though you suppose that it must have been at the behest of your uncle. While your devil of a cousin has always been rude and cruel to you, you have to admit that at least her father knew some manners, though that only begs the question as to what happened to his daughter along the way. Genetics and expensive etiquette classes can only help so much, you suppose.

“Thank you again for doing this with me. You really didn’t need to,” you say when you take a seat, nearly elbowing him in the process. Your chairs are wedged right beside the emergency exit and a grotesque ice sculpture of the bride and groom, forcing the two of you to sit so close that you could feel Seokjin breathe directly into your ear. If you shifted just slightly to the right, you’d basically be sitting on his lap (which is a prospect that intrigues you greatly, but you refrain from voicing it in fear of creeping him out… for now).

“How could I ever resist the offer to ruin your cousin’s wedding? This has been on my bucket list for years,” he winks cheekily at you. “Besides, you’re my dearest friend, Y/N. You could ask me to fight a bear naked, and I’d gladly let it eat my dick in one chomp!”

“I wouldn’t let a bear eat your dick,” you say kindly, patting him gently on the back. “You can’t afford to lose an inch when you only have two to offer.”

Before you could laugh hysterically at Seokjin’s howls of betrayal, your attention is pulled away when the soft violin music stops playing abruptly. From far away, it’s hard to tell what’s going on until you notice a bright light reflecting off of the sea of attendees, the balding head of the reception’s host bobbing up and down as he makes his way to the front of the hall.

“Attention esteemed guests! We will now begin serving dinner shortly. Please remain in your seats as our waiters attend to you.” The host speaks into a crackly microphone just as a few scraggly-looking underpaid teenagers in black dress shirts come out with the first course of the night.

Seokjin cranes his neck, trying to see what the food is. “What the hell is that? Why does it look like green shit in a bowl?” he murmurs, loud enough so that only you can hear. “I didn’t know your cousin was a Dr. Seuss fan. Are we being served green eggs and ham?” Before you can guess, you watch as his nose crinkles in disgust, a vile stench making its way to your area even though none of the waiters were even close to your table. “Oh my goodness, is that stench what we’re supposed to eat?”

“Smells like a barnyard,” you comment, though you aren’t as surprised as he is by the revolting smell. “Well, my cousin always did like making atrocious vegan recipes on her shitty WordPress blog, so I wouldn’t put it past her if she made up the menu for her own wedding.”

“She’s a vegan and a bully? What are the odds,” he says drily, cringing when he watches one of the guests begin to dry heave the moment a spoonful of the green stuff enters their mouth. “Christ. I didn’t know I was signing up for a life or death mission.”

“At this rate, I don’t think we’re getting served until the end of the night anyway,” you say, observing as the understaffed employees tried their best to get to every table while insufferable aunts did their worst to hinder their progress by nagging and complaining. Why were they so adamant about eating the food anyway? Were they itching to get diarrhea on a Saturday night? You do admit that it would probably be better, so then at least you’d have an excuse to leave earlier. “Though I suppose... Do you think eating the mystery goo while it’s cold would be better or worse?”

“It’s okay, I’ll treat you to McDonald’s when we finish up here,” he says, smiling sweetly at you. Never in your life has the mention of greasy fries and chicken nuggies made your heart race faster than it did at that moment, but then again, it could also be your high-blood pressure kicking up. Either way, you can’t ignore the way your face heats up at his offer, now more excited than ever for the reception to be over.

You and Seokjin chat as you wait for everyone around you to finish eating, not even bothered when the waiters forget to bring your food. You’re in the middle of debating the pros and cons of cock and ball torture when large dark shadows loom over both your heads, much like a solar eclipse. A cold shiver runs up your spine when you look up to find the reptilian faces of your aunts, the fumes of their designer perfume creating a cloud so noxious that you could feel your lungs shrivel into prunes.

“Hello, Y/N. It’s nice to see you after such a long time,” your Aunt Sohee greets, her tone indicating that there was nothing pleasant about seeing you at all. Your aunt, who had gotten so much botox done that she was reminiscent of a plastic balloon ready to pop, has her entourage of fellow aunties behind her, all of whom looked ridiculous in their fake designer dresses. You swear you can see that one of them had forgotten to snip off the Made in China tag before wearing it to the wedding.

“Aunt Sohee, you’re looking… young,” you say after a moment, deciding to settle on lying for now. Even though your main plan for this evening is to create chaos at your cousin’s wedding, your one condition is that you wouldn’t cause a scene with your aunts. While you are hardly in the running for favorite niece, there is still a 1% chance that you could get some inheritance from them once they hit the grave, so you’ll have to grit your teeth and bear the incoming barrage of personal questions coming your way lest you lose out in the long run.

“Why, thank you. I can’t say the same for you,” she huffs, shamelessly grabbing my cheeks and squishing them like stress balls. She peers sourly at your disfigured face, trying to squint judgmentally at you but failing due to her horrendous plastic surgery. “How old are you? Why do you have so many wrinkles?”

You feel your eyebrow twitch involuntarily, unable to respond even if you wanted due to the gorilla-hold she has on your face. You side-eye Seokjin, who is looking back at you with a blank and calm expression. You had already told him beforehand that you wouldn’t be arguing with your aunts, but that doesn’t mean he’s not allowed to be an asshole.

Being an asshole, after all, is Seokjin’s favorite pastime.

“Hello, Aunties. My name is Kim Seokjin, and I’m Y/N’s long-term boyfriend. She’s told me many good things about you,” he says with a polite smile, his hamster cheeks puffing up in that adorably boyish way. The surrounding aunties all begin to coo at his handsome face (unfair!), but they’re quickly silenced by a sharp glare from your Aunt Sohee. She appraises him, giving him a once over with a pursed lip.

“Long-term boyfriend, huh? Are you sure you aren’t paying her or something? Y/N hasn’t had a boyfriend in years. Her cousins have told me that she’s been too busy with other… extracurricular activities to bother sticking around,” your aunt says snidely, her sneer deepening. She lets go of your face, crossing her arms when she spies the expensive watch on his wrist. “Ah, I see that you’re well-off. I just can’t possibly see why else you’d be staying with her if not for other reasons.”

You can feel your blood pressure rising, the veins on your forehead undoubtedly bulging as you try to suppress your rage. Screw your cousin for spreading a rumor that you’re a whore! It’s as if you were the one sucking guys off in the locker rooms when the two of you were in the second year of high school and not her. You haven’t even had your first proper kiss, for heaven’s sake!

Instead of getting angry, Seokjin’s expression hardly changes at all. His serene smile is still plastered on his face, but only you can tell that he’s even remotely bothered by their rude remarks. You can feel the air around him turn frosty, but your oblivious aunties are still too busy tittering amongst themselves, exchanging insults at your expense.

“Oh, are we that obvious?” Seokjin tilts his head, feigning innocence. Your head jerks towards him, your eyes bugging out of their sockets. What the fuck? “You are so right, Auntie Sohee. I’m sure Y/N must have informed you about our predicament. You see, we’ve—”

“Your predicament?” Aunt Sohee scoffs, interrupting Seokjin mid-speech. “I can’t believe the nerve of this girl, bringing her little boy-toy to the holy matrimony of her cousin—”

“—been trying to produce an heir to the Kim Line for months now,” Seokjin sighs heavily, looking off into the distance with glazed, dreamy eyes. You nearly cough out a lung at his sudden proclamation, about to interject and ask him what on earth he was talking about. Your words die on your tongue, however, when he grips your hand tightly underneath the table. He taps three times on the back of your hand: an old sign that you both made back in high school whenever he was busy bullshitting his way out of trouble.

Luckily, none of your aunts notice your blunder, all of them too occupied trying to wrap their heads around what Seokjin had said. Multiple mouths drop open in surprise and disbelief, including your Aunt Sohee. Her penciled eyebrows arch comically high, her smoothened forehead wrinkling infinitesimally (a feat in itself, for you were sure she had long since lost any ability to move the skin on her face.)

“I beg your pardon?” she whispers, staring daggers at Seokjin.

Then beg, you think to yourself. Judging by the way the corners of Seokjin’s lips lift slightly, you have a strong feeling that he was thinking the same thing to himself. Instead, he says, “Yes, Aunt Sohee. You see, I come from a long line of businessmen. Ever heard of Kim Enterprises.”

Her face turns pale. “You mean… the Kim Enterprises? The one that owns—”

“South Korea’s largest chain of department stores? I’m flattered that you’re familiar,” he winks. He leans forward, gesturing for your aunts to come closer, like he’s imparting state secrets to them. “My older brother, who has been married for quite some time, has chosen to remain childless at the behest of his wife. For that reason, my father put me up to the task of producing an heir for the company.”

“An heir?” your aunt repeats, dumbfounded.

Seokjin nods, tapping his chin thoughtfully. “Yes, it’s quite unfortunate, but it’s a responsibility I’m willing to take. My family is notorious for planning our lives, even for the next 50 years, so I am forever grateful to have Y/N who is willing to bring me multiple potential heirs to my family.”

“Multiple heirs?” Your aunts shriek in unison, causing a few nearby guests to look over at your table in curiosity. You wave at them awkwardly in apology, hoping to get them to ignore the absolute clusterfuck happening right in front of you.

You feel Seokjin kick you gently in the shin, urging you to say something as well. You clear your throat, channeling all the pent-up Seokjin energy that you had indirectly absorbed over the years of being his friend. “That’s right… My Jinnie has always been so lonely, living in his gigantic mansion with his piles of money. He may have never felt the loving touch of his father, but I’m certain that we’ll be great parents to our children. Why, we’re almost like a pair of rabbits when it comes to—”

Aunt Sohee clears her throat abruptly, a deep flush coloring her cheeks as she glares daggers at you. She looks absolutely peeved, and it takes all your mental fortitude to restrain yourself from jumping up in triumph. Take that, wench!

“I have to admit that this is somewhat… unexpected,” your aunt says carefully, pointing a tight smile at Seokjin. He beams back, positively delighted.

“Y/N is quite the catch. I’m grateful to have her in my life,” he says, his tone growing soft by the end. He looks at you then, and you find a mysterious emotion floating in his eyes that you can’t quite name. When you blink and try to get a closer look, his careful façade is back in place.

Eventually, your aunts lose interest in you once they realize they can no longer bully you, not when you had an incredibly rich boyfriend to back you up. “Must be nice being a rich boy, huh?” you snicker, teasing the blushing boy beside you. Thanks to his hair growing longer than usual, the tips of his ears are miraculously hidden away. When you brush his hair back, they are as red as a baboon’s ass.

“Oh, shut up. You know I hate flaunting my dad’s money,” he whines, pouting cutely. He fingers the watch on his wrist, staring at it uncomfortably. “This isn’t even my watch. I had to borrow one from my brother.”

“Well, you did it for me, so I suppose it’s not all bad,” you laugh, pinching his cheek lightly. “Plus, it was funny watching my aunts shut up for once. They’re just mad that you’re richer than the groom.”

“Really? What does he do?”

“He’s an entrepreneur.” You snort, emphasizing the word with air quotations. “Honestly, he just calls himself that while he waits for his self-made business to pop off or whatever. No such luck so far, if what I heard was right.”

“Lucky for you, you’re stuck with my devastatingly handsome face and stinkin’ rich bank account,” he jokes, contorting his face into a funny expression until you’re left snorting at his antics. Little does he know, you still would’ve l***d him even if he wasn’t any of those things, but that’d be too cringey to say. What are you, some sort of romantic lead protagonist?

It takes a little bit over an hour for dessert to start getting served, by which point the bride and groom decide to make their rounds to greet the guests. “Don’t you think this is the perfect time to put our plan into motion? The dance floor is open and we should be able to make it to the center without anyone noticing,” he whispers, his breath tickling your neck.

“Yeah, let’s go,” you say, but just as you’re about to get up from your seat, a flurry of white blocks your path in an instant. You startle slightly, falling back to your chair and hitting Seokjin in the chest with a soft grunt. “Shit, sorry about that Seokjin—”

“Well, well, well. If it isn’t my dear cousin,” a voice cuts you off, the disdain in their voice dripping like acid down your ear canals. Your blood freezes instinctively, years of past trauma crashing down on you as your childhood bully stands just inches away from you, her blood-red lips stretched into a broad smirk.

“Kairi,” you greet.

“Y/N,” she responds.

“Seokjin!” Seokjin adds helpfully.

Your cousin turns to him slowly. “Quite right,” she hisses, eyebrows pinched together in thinly-veiled annoyance. “I’ve heard through some whispers that my baby cousin finally managed to snag a rich kid for a boyfriend and I just couldn’t help but let my curiosity drag me over here.” She looks you up and down, snorting at what she sees. “You would think that having a chaebol as a boyfriend would mean you could at least afford a proper dress.”

You glance down at your dress: a hand-me-down from your mother because you couldn’t be bothered to buy a new one, not when you’d rather choke on Satan’s hot fiery balls for all eternity than spend any amount of money just to attend your cousin’s wedding. Despite this, you can’t help your cheeks from heating in embarrassment, an automatic response after years of bullying and torment from that spoiled bitch.

When you don’t reply, Kairi’s smirk widens. “Oh? Cat got your tongue? Sugar daddy couldn’t even be bothered to buy you a dress? While you’re at it, maybe you should ask for a new car too. I’m surprised you even made it here alive in that old metal deathtrap of yours. You’re lucky you were just late to the reception instead of dead on the street.”

You can sense Seokjin staring at you from your right. Your fists are clenched tightly on your skirt, your nails nearly tearing the fabric in your searing rage. Slowly, carefully, Seokjin slips his hands underneath yours—he pries your death grip open until he can lace his fingers in between yours. At once, your anger melts at his tender gesture, your focus pulled away from your cousin and back to him. He thumbs the back of your hand, as if assuring you that he’d handle this himself.

He smiles at Kairi, not a single ounce of kindness in his eyes. “Yes, indeed. It is my mistake entirely for not ordering a dress much sooner. Y/N is so incredibly humble; she’d rather wear a vintage outfit than wear one of those paper-thin dresses from YesStyle that you and your bridesmaids seem to favor,” he sighs, pretending to be pained.

“Paper-thin? YESSTYLE?” Kairi screeches, her voice breaking the sound barrier. You watch in fascination as her skin turns an unflattering ruddy shade.

Unperturbed by her murderous aura, Seokjin prattles on. “Quite right,” he mocks her with her own words, smirking ever so slightly. “Though, I must apologize for being late to the reception. That was my fault as well. My father had a general meeting this morning for all the employees at the company, as he had wanted to announce that I would be the Vice President starting next Monday. We tried to leave sooner, but everyone had been too busy congratulating us,” he apologizes, though not apologetic in the slightest.

Your cousin could cosplay as a walking crack pipe with how much steam was puffing out of her ears. She’s livid, so much so that her fury was preventing her from formulating any sort of comeback. “You—how dare you—I swear on my—” she stutters incomprehensibly, her vulture-like nails tearing her dainty paper-thin skirt into shreds.

Just as she looks about ready to blow, her father comes around to your table. He places a hand delicately on his daughter’s shoulder, immediately understanding the situation when he sees you. “Kairi, I think it’s time for you to greet the rest of the guests. Uncle Iverson said he has a gift for you that simply cannot wait,” he says, doing his best to appease you. He gives you a genuinely regretful look; you shake your head, waving off his concern.

“It was nice seeing you, Kairi. I hope you and your husband will have a wonderful year together,” you say. You gasp exaggeratedly, holding a hand to your heart. “Oh, sorry. I meant to say I hope you have wonderful years together. Pardon my mistake.”

Before the scant amount of brain cells in your cousin’s brain could process your words, her father pulls her away, dragging her to the next table over. Once they’re out of earshot, you heave a sigh of relief. Beside you, Seokjin lets out a laugh that he had been undoubtedly holding in the past few minutes, sounding like a fish gasping for air with how much he is shaking with mirth.

“Fuck, that was hilarious. Did you see how angry she got? Beautiful,” he says, wiping away a stray tear. “Love that for us!”

“Damn. I knew you were good at bullshitting, but even your acting skills almost convinced me,” you whistle lowly, impressed. “You sure you’re not a con-artist in disguise?”

“All good businessmen are con-artists, my young padawan,” he snickers, winking at you. He shrugs. “You get used to dealing with assholes like her when you attend enough rich people parties. Besides, all good lies are rooted in the truth, after all. That’s what my father taught me when I was seven.”

“You must have been a terrible child, then.” You laugh, before realizing what he had just said. “Wait. Rooted in the truth? What does that mean?”

“Oh. Well,” he clears his throat, giggling nervously. He rubs his neck, embarrassed. “I am the vice president of dad’s company now. I just lied about the meeting being this morning. He announced it a day ago or something. Not that it’s a big deal or anything…”

You gawk at him, speechless. Not for the first time in your life, you are once again stunned by the absurdity of the man before you. How did men like him exist outside of cheesy k-dramas? He’s handsome, rich, funny, AND well-mannered? It’s almost like some love-crazed author had penned him into existence for their entertainment.

Seokjin breaks you from your reverie, tapping you thrice on your shoulder. “Shall we go? The dance floor is still empty. It’s now or never.”

You nod excitedly, standing up to head towards the center of the hall. This time, there is no one stopping you as the two of you make your way towards your destination. The lights near the dancefloor are still dimly lit, as most of the lighting is currently focused on the guests as the bride and groom make their rounds to greet everyone. Even if Seokjin got onto his knees right now, only a few people nearby would notice, so you’d have to do something to catch people’s attention.

“This is going to be moderately to highly embarrassing for a few moments, but I think that’s the atmosphere we’re going for, isn’t it?” Seokjin whispers, his mouth embarrassingly close to yours as he holds you gently by the waist. There isn’t a need for him to stand so close to you, but you have to admit his presence is mostly calming—minus the fact that he’s been your crush for five years and he’s going to be fulfilling one of your deepest fantasies in front of your entire extended family. No biggie.

“I suppose so. What are you gonna do to get their attention?” you ask, palms beginning to sweat. Despite this, Seokjin still takes your hands into his own, a small smile on his lips.

“Just watch,” he whispers, before slowly getting down on one knee.

Ba-dump. Here we fucking go.

“My dearest Y/N… The apple of my eye, the straw to my berry, the con to my dom,” Seokjin says, projecting his voice so that it can be heard even above the music. One of the violin players is even startled long enough to stop playing, further causing more heads to turn in their direction. You hear a gasp coming from your left, but you force yourself not to look. Instead, you stare right back into Seokjin’s sweet brown eyes, your heart beating a mile a minute.

This isn’t real… This is just a prank, bro. Get over yourself, you hiss internally, but your heart refuses to listen.

“You’ve been in my life for almost half a decade, and not a day goes by wherein I don’t wonder what it would be like to live the rest of my days with you. In many ways, I wouldn’t be the person I am if it hadn’t been for your presence in my life,” he says. If you look deeper into his eyes, you can almost trick yourself into thinking that they looked wetter than they had just a moment ago.

“Y/N, you are the person I’ve loved for years now. I used to think you didn’t like me as much as I liked you, so I was always scared to pop the question. I had many opportunities to ask, but I suppose tonight just felt like the right moment. I was afraid that if I didn’t do it now, I might never get the chance to ask again, and I wouldn’t be able to live with myself if I let you slip away out of cowardice.”

For some reason, his words seem almost too real, like he was speaking the truth. You have never doubted his acting skills, but would you be willing to wonder if there was even a small possibility that there was some truth to his tale? You swallow thickly, the need to ask just dangling on the tip of your tongue.

He rifles through his jacket pocket, procuring a small velvet box. He thumbs it almost reverently, his hands shaking slightly, but you can blame that on the nerves from hundreds of people watching you. He takes a deep breath, opening the box with a soft click. “My dearest Y/N… Would you give me the honor of spending the rest of my days with you?”

You feel your breath get knocked out of you in an instant, the genuine adoration in his eyes too much for you to handle. You stammer slightly, too busy staring at him to properly register the loud claps, screams, and hollers all around you. “I… Seokjin… This is…”

“MAKE THEM STOP! SOMEONE KICK THEM OUT RIGHT NOW!” You dimly hear your cousin screaming obscenities somewhere, but you are still too caught up in the moment to care. The world only consists of you and Seokjin—nothing else matters right now.

When you look down at the box in his hands, fully expecting to see a comically large ring pop nestled in its cushions, but instead you find—

You gasp, nearly doubling over in surprise. “Oh my god, Seokjin. Is that a real fucking diamond ring?!”

He shrugs, smiling wryly. “Only the best rocks for the girl who rocks my socks off every night,” he jokes, but his nervousness is palpable. He’s sweating, a drop trailing down the side of his face despite the strong air conditioning.

Oh shit. It hits you right then that his proposal is real. The damned idiot is fucking proposing to you in front of your most hated family members, and he’s proposing to you for real.

“Kim Seokjin, please fucking explain yourself—”

But before he can have the chance to open his mouth, you feel rough hands grab you by the shoulders, pulling you away from him. “I’m sorry I have to do this, ma’am. Bride’s orders,” one of the waiters says, awkwardly escorting you to the exit. When you turn back, you see another waiter pulling Seokjin away as well, the box with the ring still clutched tightly in his hand.

The two waiters deposit you outside the hall, bowing stiffly before heading back into the room. You’re still breathing heavily, the adrenaline coursing through your veins. Seokjin isn’t any better, bent over with his hands on his knees. From your vantage point, you can see how red his entire neck is, his blush reaching even past the collar of his shirt.

“Seokjin…” you trail off, unable to say another word. You’re completely flabbergasted, elated, annoyed, and mostly just mind-fucked because when on earth did Kim Seokjin ever have a crush on you?!

“I’m sorry. That must have been quite a shock,” he coughs out a laugh. He rubs his face, embarrassment rolling off of him in waves. “I just… It was sort of a last-minute decision I made. I’ve been into you for years now, and I know I’m kinda putting you on the spot by proposing like that, but I knew if I didn’t do anything soon, you might just slip away before I can say anything.”

“Wait. So are you really… proposing to me?” You squeak out the last bit, your face mirroring his reddened state.

“No!” He shouts suddenly, before covering his mouth with his palm. “S-sorry, what I mean to say is, it wasn’t really a marriage proposal. It was more like… just a general proposal? I do want to live with you forever, but I know that thought must be daunting and—oh god, I don’t even know if you like me like that, so this must be incredibly weird and out of line. Please excuse me while I shove a cactus up my ass—”

“Seokjin,” you interrupt, silencing his rambling. He clamps his mouth shut. “Are you… asking me out?”

He nods his head. “Yeah…”

“And what you said is true? You actually like me?”

“No, you don’t understand. I love you,” he says, before getting shy again. He looks down at the ring box. “Fuck. This isn’t a real engagement ring, by the way. It’s more like a promise ring, so you don’t have to feel bad for rejecting me.”

“Oh my god, I’m in love with an idiot,” you groan, pulling him into a hug. You nestle into his chest, giggling hysterically into his shirt. “I fucking hate you.”

“Wait, I’m getting mixed signals over here,” Seokjin says, gasping when he feels how tightly you embrace him. He doesn’t complain, however. He returns the gesture in kind, nuzzling deep into your neck. “So, does that mean the feeling is mutual?”

“Yes, you idiot. Now give me my ring.”

“My pleasure, princess.” He laughs, drawing away slightly so that he can slip the ring on your finger. The diamond shines brightly under the fluorescent lights, but nothing brings you more joy than having the boy you love in your arms.

As the two of you are sharing a sweet moment, it takes a second for you to realize that the commotion from inside the venue still hasn’t stopped. When you crane your heads, you spot one of the doors had been left ajar, allowing you to slip your heads through the crack just in time to see Seokjin’s beautiful bare ass being projected onto a large screen.

The musical notes of Rick Astley’s most popular song play loudly on the speakers, drowning out the sounds of the bride screaming bloody murder as the IT people tried their best to sort out the mess. The Seokjin on the screen slaps his ass in time with the tune, his glorious moon-shaped globes shaking mesmerizingly for all to see.

When you look to Seokjin for an explanation, he merely shrugs his shoulders. “They really should do background checks on the people they hire for these things. Taking that one video editing course in university really does pay off, huh?”

“Sure does,” you grin, linking your arms together. “Now let’s get some fucking McDonalds.”

And so, you lived happily ever after—the end.

[just-call-me-the-intrusive-thot]

Soulmate September - Day 6

Day 6 - When your soulmate is injured you will experience pain in that area

Pairing(s): Analoceitmus [ambiguous, can be read romantic or platonic, or a mix], QPR Royality 

TWs: Injury mention, swearing, Remus being Remus near the end 

–

“I’m going to sue him.”, Logan hissed, attempting to sit up in his hospital bed, “Soulmate or not, how can one man possibly be so irresponsible?! I’m definitely going to sue him.”

He winced as he tried to get comfy, but the tough mattress and uncomfortable bunching of the sheets said suffer. 

And boy, was he. 

Logan Sanders was an immaculate, careful man. Had been since he was a child. A neat and tidy lad who - upon learning of the rules of fate - made it his utmost mission to spare his soulmate any pain or anguish for as long as he could manage. 

His soulmate, however, didn’t seem to share that sentiment.

From childhood, Logan found himself with sudden knee pains from scrapes he never fell for, abrasions he had caused no friction to gain, and the occasional shoulder or back pain as if he’d been pushed over when he was standing perfectly upright. At least the universe had decided to spare humanity the anguish of leaving soulmates with the physical injuries that came with the pain, but it was only a minor comfort.

Logan couldn’t say he hadn’t expected a lot of rough and tumble from his soulmate after his elementary school years, but really; a broken leg, facial burns, and a splintered forearm? “This is absolute bullshit.”, he bitterly muttered, “Barely hours apart! How is that even possible?!”

His ranting went ignored by the nurse who came to administer his medication; thankfully science had worked out a wonderful little clear pill that could banish the pain from particularly debilitating soulmate pains. The little bastards were expensive - the true pain is always capitalism within the medical world -  but Logan’s job paid handsomely. Say what you will about computer nerds and whatnot, but programming for the right people lets you make some seriously high end bread. None of that homemade farmer’s market shit.

Unfortunately, he’d have to wait about a week for his pains to ebb gently into nothingness until the klutz of a man fate paired him with got into MORE trouble. Thus Logan couldn’t get back to his work. His leg was, for all intents and purposes, broken so the staff couldn’t let him go home. He couldn’t simply drive home himself either, his splintered forearm saw to that. And Logan couldn’t even ask his roommate Emile to bring him his work laptop to try and keep his workload at bay, his left eye was too cloudy and painful to concentrate on a screen. 

Yes; his soulmate BETTER be paying his hospital bills.

Realisation struck Logan; his soulmate is obviously just as injured, ergo it’s a high probability that he could be somewhere within the hospital too. Using his good hand to reach for a pen, and absolutely dreading adding to his pain, Logan poked the tip into his good arm, wincing as he first attempted to contact them with simple morse code, “My/ Name/ Is/ Logan. Who/ Are/ You?”

He waited for a response, fearing he would have to start scratching his name onto his arm when he felt the little jabs in response,  “Janus.” Great. He FINALLY had a name to put on the lawsuit. Logan, already wincing at the bee-sting pain from the pen, he jabbed out another message,

“Are/ You/ Currently/ Staying/ At/ Stokes/ General/ Hospital?”

The reply came cryptically,

“Yes / I / -”

Logan wasn’t sure why his soulmate had suddenly stopped replying. Had a nurse confiscated whatever his soulmate was using to poke himself? Either way, Logan would have to be content with the knowledge his soulmate was at least close by. He truly had no idea how close until two very disgruntled voices were within earshot of his room door,

“Brilliant, I just adore being ousted from my comfortable bed so I could spend even longer looking at your delightful face.”

“Oh, like you’re the victim here, asshole! You’re the one stabbing yourself and fucking up my unbroken arm!”

Logan watched them both argue outside of his room door. Both men were sporting similar injuries to his own; the first one that had spoken, refined looking gentleman with sharp features and neat blonde hair, had the left side of his face bandaged heavily. Meanwhile the other man, sporting raven hair and eye bags that could carry a month’s worth of groceries, was fitted with a cast on his left forearm. Both of them were on crutches, though Logan couldn’t see if either had a genuine cast.

“Ahem. Gentlemen?”

Logan called to them, watching as both turned to meet his gaze. He lifted the pen in his hand and asked, “I take it one of you is Janus?”

The man with the bandages over his eye, Janus, nodded, “That would be me.”

The man with the broken arm looked confused, “Wait, so, you’re the one who was ramming a pen into their arm? Damn.”, he turned, begrudgingly to the first man, “I guess I owe you an apology then.”

“Really you needn’t-”

“Then I shan’t.”

Janus glared at the other man’s snark, but Logan found it rather delightful. Clearing his throat once more, he breached the topic, “I take it that means we three are soulmates?”

“Four.”

Logan and Janus looked to the third man as he explained, “Your leg doesn’t have a proper cast on it, this asshole doesn’t have one either,”, Janus gifted the man a half glare and a middle finger before he continued, “And since I don’t have one, it’s pretty obvious there’s a fourth musketeer.”

Fair to say, Logan was impressed, even Janus was hiding the tiniest hint of admiration as he retorted, “And are we to call you Sherlock or D’artagnan?”

The man rolled his eyes, “Ha ha, fuck you. My name’s-”

“VIRGIL!!”

The man, Virgil, nearly lept out of his skin, jerking his arm and giving the three of them a jolt of pain. Logan felt relieved he’d only have to put up with it for a few more days once the medicine took effect. 

In the doorway stood a man who could only be described as unnecessarily handsome, clad in a burgundy bomber jacket and a Nightmare Before Christmas shirt that seemed out of place on someone who stood poised like the protagonist of a romance anime. Logan noted he and Janus both checked to see if his leg was broken; good to know they had similar tastes even if the man’s lack of a cast dashed their hopes. Said handsome man made a beeline for Virgil, only to receive a swat and a motion to back off, 

“Jesus fucking Christ, Princey, you nearly gave me a heart attack!!!”, Virgil hissed and took a deep breath. ‘Princey’ let out a fond huff, “You should be so lucky, Bring Me The Depression, do you know how worried Pat and I were when we couldn’t find you!? This, dearest Emo Nightmare, is karma at its finest-!”

“Yeah, yeah, shut up, Roman. Where’s Pat? He’s gonna wanna meet my soulmates.”

Roman blinked, finally registering Logan and Janus just watching the two of them reunite. Clearing his throat, Logan made the introductions, “I’m Logan Sanders, this gentleman is-”

“Janus Delgado. Charmed I’m sure.”, Janus butt in, “Really, Logan, I can introduce myself. Unlike some people.”

Virgil flipped him off just in time for Roman to frown in confusion, “And…. you’re all sure you’re soulmates? I mean, no offense but you don’t...”, he picked his words carefully, his face contorting at the effort, “....act like soulmates?”

The three of them looked between one another and shrugged, “To be perfectly fair - Roman, yes? - we have all literally just met today under…. Less than optimal circumstances. I doubt you and your soulmate, assuming you’ve found them, hit it off instantly.”

Roman blinked, “Kind of, we didn’t have any problems like this, quite honestly...”, he almost sounded guilty at that notion, “The worst we have to deal with is his cat allergies-”

Out in the hallway, a couple of nurses hurriedly walked past and allowed another man into the room who immediately lit up at the sight of Roman and Virgil, “There you both are!!! I got held up at the vending machine, but when I came back you were both gone!”

“Patton! How glad I am to see you once more!”, Roman beamed, pulling the taller man into a hug and planting a dramatic kiss upon his cheek, to which Logan, Janus, and Virgil simultaneously met with an ‘ugh’. Perhaps they were more alike than they first assumed. 

Patton turned to meet Janus and Logan’s gaze, looking back to Virgil who explained, “They’re two of my soulmates, Pat.”

For a moment, the tall excitable ball of sunshine looked like he was about to pop with joy when Roman held up a hand to interject, “Pardon me, but ‘two of’?”, and cast his confusion towards Virgil who explained, “Our last soulmate has a broken leg, it’s the only injury we can’t account for.”

Patton and Roman shared a momentary look, drawing Logan’s attention, “Roman? Patton? Are you both alright?”. The two seemed to play eye contact rock-paper-scissors to decide who would answer, with Roman losing apparently.

“When exactly did you feel the pain in your leg?”

“Couple hours ago” “Around three?” “Precisely 3:27 pm.”

Came the chorus of answers. Janus and Virgil both shot Logan a look, to which he quietly murmured, “It never hurts to provide a little extra clarity.”

“Apparently so,”, Janus began, before shifting his partial gaze to the couple, “So, are you lovebirds-”

“Qpp’s.”, Patton corrected quietly, to which, Janus did apologise, “Pardon me. So, are you queer platonic saps going to clue us in to why exactly you asked us such a specific question?”

Roman sighed, “I ask because my brother, Remus, broke his leg at that exact same time today. Pat and I were going to visit him right after we’d checked in with Virgil.”

The three soulmates shared a collective look, but the first one to pipe up was Virgil, “You have a brother?! Why am I only finding this out now, I’ve known you for 12 fucking years, Roman! What the fuck!?”

Logan exasperatedly ran a hand down his face as he tried to maneuver himself out of his bed and into one of the hospital’s wheelchairs, Janus offering a hand to him, “Virgil, as much as I would love to listen to you and Roman bicker back and forth, could we possibly save such trivialities for after we meet our fourth soulmate?”

This time Patton piped up, “Oh, um, you may not want to do that just yet-”

As if on cue, roughly six or seven medical staff rushed by, causing Patton and Roman to quickly look around the doorway, only to turn back to the others, “Well, no time like the present. Patton, if you help Virgil, I’ll help Janus once Logan can shimmy into that wheelchair.”, Roman assigned as he offered an arm for Logan to hold onto while he got himself in the chair. Noting the context clues, Logan was rightfully worried, especially as he felt a new pain in his hand, only to note that while Roman and Patton helped them move, Virgil and Janus seemed to be experiencing more pain in their legs than before. In the moment, Logan did feel a little bad that the pill he’d taken hours earlier was saving him from too much additional pain. Approaching the hospital room the medical staff had gathered within, the group were greeted with a wild scene.

A scruffy man strikingly similar in looks to Roman - albeit sporting a thin moustache and silver hair streak - wearing a leg cast was holding a crutch in one hand and an honest to god butterfly knife in the other, standing atop his hospital bed, raving like a lunatic and gesturing frantically to an empty space in the room,

“NOW WILL SOMEBODY FINALLY LET ME OUT OF HERE?! ME AND THIS BEAR WANNA GO CATCH HORNY FISH AND SHIT IN THE WOODS!!” 

Charming. 

Logan glanced over at Patton and Roman, the question clear on his face just like their answer. That was Remus alright. He watched Roman talk with a nurse trying to calm Remus, “We gave him some painkillers to ease his leg pains, but it shouldn’t be affecting him this much!”

“Oh, Remus has always been like this with medication, I should’ve warned the nursing staff.”, he groaned, “But that doesn’t explain-”

“He must’ve pushed the blue button behind his bed,”, Logan sighed, already anticipating Roman’s question, “The medical staff likely assumed Remus was coding and thus went into action. That’s why they’re here right now.”

Roman’s expression confirmed that was indeed going to be his question. As Roman went to help the nurses tranquilise Remus’ wild flailing, and while his other two soulmates stood by to watch the chaos - in varying degrees of worry and strange admiration bordering on attraction for his disregard for social norms - Logan tried to come to terms with the facts.

He had three very different soulmates, and by the looks of it? He’d have to get used to frequent hospital stays….

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

This one’s probably on the weirder side, but uh, yeah, I hope it’s still a good read! [Also sorry these have been a little late lately TTvTT] @tsshipmonth2020 Taglist: @somehow-i-got-an-account @cateye-glasses

[twstwonderlandstuff]

Jamil with a doting and loving little sister

why the fuck does this exist- i dont fucking know

Spoilers for Scary Halloween Event ahead!

“Karin!” A young girl with long, dark hair yelled. “Please don’t run!”

“Eh? But aren’t you excited to see your big brother, Aniq?” Karin shot back, her loose, white hair flitting through the air. “I can’t wait to see what Scarabia’s doing for Halloween this year~!”

“I am too, but...” Aniq forcefully pulled Karin back, leaving Aniq to pout. “I can’t have you ruining the Asim family name looking like that.”

“Eh? But I’m the 12th, it’s not that important.” Karin dragged out, dramatically walking back towards her right-hand (wo)man/best friend. Pouting, she reluctantly let Aniq tidy her appearance- carefully tying the whit turban back in place, tugging the aqua-blue sleeveless top so it covers her decently, making sure the matching colored parachute pants reach her bottoms and shining the golden jewel that rests on her sandals it’s Jasmine.

“There, much better.” Aniq gave her a once over, satisfied at the appearance. “Wait, let me do yours too!” Karin insisted, roughly cleaning Aniq’s image. 

“Ah, don’t-” Aniq gave up, letting the girl do as she pleased- well, it’s not like anyone can see them, right? Just in case, Aniq gave the room they were in (Karin’s room) a onceover, glad that nothing was amiss.

In contrast to Karin, Aniq wore a very simple black cloak that draped gracefully over her shoulders and a collared, midi-length, grey dress that has buttons running its entire length. For a pop of color, orange, curly-toed shoes line her feet (it’s a witch)

“There~ you look better, see?” Karin grinned. “Now we can both look good!”

“Well, I guess... thanks.” Aniq replied, twirling around. “Well then, my lady, shall we go?” She teasingly asked, offering Karin an arm.

“But of course. We can’t have our brother’s anxiously wait for our arrival, can’t we?” Karin answered in kind, looping her arm in hers. 

“They don’t even know we’re coming, how are they supposed to wait?” Aniq sighed. “I wonder if this is really ok...”

“It’s fine, chill. My dad already said ok, and I forced your parents to take you with me!” Karin casually replied, stepping out of the room. A glare from Aniq made her soften her voice.

"You and your abuse of power...” Aniq sighed. “If my parents knew I told you to...”

“Hihihi... ahh, just relax already! We’re going to have fun, and you are prohibited from being anxious, do you understand?! This is a command straight from the master herself, okay?!” Karin commanded, booping Aniq’s nose.

“Hai hai~” The two of them laughed good-naturedly, chatting light-heartedly about other things.

*

"Woah!” Karin exclaimed. “Is this what NRC looks like when it’s Halloween?! It looks so cool...!”

“I know right?!” Aniq noticed a man with what seems like bandages, but made into clothes on him. “Oh, there’s a guy sitting there- let’s ask him for the directions of the Scarabia dorms- oh wait, isn’t that the dorm leader of Octavinelle?”

“Hmm, maybe? I think I remember someone looking like that when we came here last year.” Karin hummed, walking placentally towards the guy. “Excuse me, do you know where the Scarabia venues are?”

"Oh, welcome and happy Halloween. Yes, they are located in the Mystery shop.” Azul explained. “Do you have anything else to add?”

“No, that’s all. Thank you, and happy Halloween!” Aniq replied, flashing him a quick thank you smile before leaving with Karin. 

“Eh, you remember the way?”

“Duh~ I mean, do I not have good memory?” Aniq flexed lightly, grinning.

“Oh yeah, you helped me cheat on that test one time-”

“Ahhh shaddup don’t talk about that!” 

“Eh- but you’re the that brought up the topic!” Karin argued back.

“No, you did! I didn’t say a word about tests!”

“Oh yeah.. ahaha...”

“Ah, what am I going to do with you?” Aniq sighed, shaking her head and smiling. 

*

“There they are- oh...” Aniq’s spirit dissipated after seeing to long, long line that stood in front of the Mystery Shop. “H...how are we supposed to find big bro and Kalim-san now...?”

“Ahh, I don’t know...” Karin echoed, sighing sadly. “But I’m so lazy to wait in line...”

“I’ll wait for you, you go do something else.” Aniq suggested. “I think we passed a haunted house or something. You love those things, right?”

“Yup, thanks Aniq! Karin playfully teased, pressing her lips on Aniq’s cheek. “See ya!”

Aniq blushed deeply, but managed to wave her off. “Honestly, that girl...!” She grunted under her breath, a little bothered. “She’s way too affectionate...”

Aniq aligned herself in the queue, looking around. It certainly is more crowded then last year. I wonder why- oh, right, because of that picture of the ghosts and the cat. Ahh, I kind of want to see the cat... it looks so cute! She thought, smiling at the thought. And the cute girl too... I wonder why there’s a girl in NRC? Ah well, I can ask big bro, can’t I?

She grinned happily at the thought and accidentally overheard the chatter of a few people.

“Ahh, I wonder what angles I should take for the waffle?” Girl A pondered, asking her friend.

“I think from up high is good because the lighting is better. That way, the post will definitely get more likes.” Girl B answered, concluding Girl A’s response.

“Hey, are we going to actually eat the waffle? No, right? It’s so annoying to walk around holding this around...” Girl A sighed, hesitantly looking at the waffle store.

“But it says not to throw it here...eh, I’m sure its fine since everyone is doing it too!”

“Right, right!” The two continued chattering, but Aniq’s eyes went straight for the trash can.

She glanced at the pile of waffles and containers surrounding the trash can. Ahh, I don’t think big bro is going to enjoy that... She spotted several caterpillars and slugs on the trash can and sighed. Most definitely not.

Silently, quietly, she muttered a spell: Spread your wings, and turn the ugly to good.

After a few seconds, the pile of trash became a flight of butterflies, which quickly dissapeared and flitted into the air, along with the caterpillars and slugs.

“Woah, the trash just dissapeared! Is that the way they clean the trash?” Girl A gasped, shaking Girl B by the shoulders.

“So pretty! Let’s throw some more trash so we can see it again! Maybe if we put it on Magicam it’ll become viral!” Girl B added. 

That’s not what I meant to do! “Don’t-” The word slipped out before Aniq could stop herself. The two strangers in front of her glared at her. 

“Have you been eavesdropping on us? That’s rude.”

“Ah- I’m sorry, but I couldn’t help it when you said that you’d continue littering.” She countered calmly.

“Why not? It doesn’t hurt anyone, right?”

“Well, there is a sign clearly indicating that you shouldn’t throw trash, but if you ignore that, then yes, the actions you did obviously have no impact at all.” She chastised sarcastically, pointing towards the sign. 

“Ahh, so annoying! Let’s just wait for the waffles another time. I’m tired of waiting in line anyway.” Girl A said, shooting a dirty glance at Aniq, which she subtly ignored. 

“Yeah.. oh, let’s go to Savanaclaw! Maybe the rumor that...” The 2 customers walked away, letting Aniq take their place. 

**

2 people away from my order... come on, hurry up! Aniq thought impatiently. Ah, shit, where’s Karin?

She hurriedly pulled out her phone and called. After precisely 3 rings, Karin’s cheery voice rang from the other side. 

Hello?

Is everything okay on your end?

Ehh, are you worried~?

When am I never worried? Aniq deadpanned.

That’s true, yeah. I’m okay! I took a picture with THE Malleus Draconia, can you believe it?! I mean, there were these people who tried touching him, but I got a brain, so I didn’t do that. 

Heh?! Really? Woah, they have some guts! Aniq replied in surprise. 

“Next.” She stepped forward one step, noticing that the server had some wolf ears attached to them. Hmm, I don’t remember Scarabia students having animal ears... it’s probably for the costume.

Oh, and I found the cute girl in the picture you were talking about! 

Eh, did you find the cat and the ghosts too?! Send me the pictures ya! Aniq reminded her.

Yup, will do~ Karin replied fleetingly. They were swarmed with people haha! I pitied them, so I just... watched as the throng of people overwhelmed them. The people were saying something about the Malleus Draconia challenge, or something.

Eh, really? What’s it about?

Like, they have to film them touching him. Isn’t that crazy?

Well, more like moronic but yeah, I guess. I heard a few people talk about Magicam here too. ‘Let’s upload the waffle pictures! It’ll definitely get a lot of likes!’ then they throw it away! So stupid, right? Karin snorted.

...Are there people in the area-

Oh shit-

Oh my god you dumbass- Aniq could hear her friend laugh. Well, order some waffles for me, okay? I’m headed over there right now.

Aight then, bye!

Bai bai~

Click.

“Next, please!” The Scarabia student called, prompting Aniq to eagerly step forward, happy to see her big brother-

“Oh, is that you, Aniq?” Kalim cheerfully asked, prompting Aniq to quickly bow. 

“Ah, Kalim-sama!” Kalim laughed. 

“Raise your head up, jeez! I told you over and over you don’t need to do that, ya know~” Kalim lectured playfully, resulting in a quiet giggle from Aniq.

“Yes, master!” She inclined, using her left hand as a salute. “Can I take a picture- after I order, of course!”

“Sure!” Kalim agreed. “So, what do you want?”

“2 NRC waffles, please.” Kalim cringed at the word. “You’re going to actually eat it, right~?”

“Of course! What’s the point of buying food you’re not going to eat?” She casually answered back. 

“Don’t be so casual, Aniq.” Jamil’s voice floated through the booth. She grinned once she saw him. 

“Big bro!” Jamil was quick to give her a head pat, which she radiated from. “Aha, sorry... it slips out sometimes.”

“Hmm.” Jamil replied. “Kalim, the residents of Scarabia are asking for your help. Can you handle it by yourself?”

Kalim nodded, putting a thumbs up. “Leave it to me!” He then left to help with whatever needed to be done.

Aniq eyed her big brother. “Oh, you’re donned in a costume too, big bro.”

“All vice-dorm leaders and leaders are required to wear the costumes.” 

“Oh, did you make it, big bro?” Jamil shook his head. 

“No, Vil did- Pomefiore dorm leader.”

“Ahhh, you mean the pretty guy in charge of the mirror of chambers?” Jamil nodded. “I saw it on one of the flyers plastered on the walls.” 

"Ah, that makes sense. Ah, Aniq.”

“Mhmm?”

“Can you guess the theme of our dorm venue? I’ll add in a special treat if you guess it right.” Jamil teased, watching his sister’s eyes light up. 

“Really?! Well, um...” Her eyes quickly darted to take in the surroundings. The ragged carpet draped across the trees and roofs, with lanterns hanging from the trees. “Well, it’s very LHS (Land of Hot Sands)… oh!” She gasped, clicking her fingers. “Is it recyclable material? The carpets are made out of rags, and the lanterns out of reusable plastic.”

Jamil hummed, genuinely pleased. “You’re right.” Aniq beamed at the praise. ““I assume you’re with Karin?” He questioned.

“Mhmm, but she’s in the haunted house, or wherever Malleus Draconia is in. ”Oh, by the way, bro, what’s with the trash piling in front of the station? Are people really just buying the waffles to take pictures on Magicam?” Aniq asked, watching his eyebrows furrow.

"Unfortunately.” Jamil sighed. handing her the cones. "We tried telling them off, but they wouldn’t listen. They also bugged with Kalim’s tail.” Jamil smiled smugly, giving her the scones back. “Oh, and thank you for the trash.” 

“Ah, you saw, big bro?” She asked happily. Jamil shook his head. “You shouldn’t be using your UM so casually.”

“I know, I know, but it did help, right?” She grinned, but before she could continue, someone behind her whispered: “Oh my god she’s taking so long!”

“Oh, right!” Aniq quickly realized. “Um, chocolate for me and Mint choc-chip for Karin.”

“Of course.” Jamil got right to it, taking the wrappers from their containers. 

“How’s everything going, big bro?” Jamil raised an eyebrow at the question. “You know what I mean, with Kalim-sama... and everything.” Aniq asked, staring straight at her brother, who sighed deeply. 

"Don’t say that out in public.”

“But I’m worried! You’re doing okay, right?” Aniq frowned.

“It’s been... decent. He still treats me like a friend, no matter how many times I shrug him off. It’s annoying.” Jamil hissed, putting more force then usual when putting the waffles. “I’m just thankful nobody- except you- knows about this back home.”

“Ahaha... Kalim-sama is always like tha-” Her phone rang, interrupting her talk.

Hell-

ANIQ SOMETHING HAPPENED!

Jamil, well understanding the circumstances, quickly handed her the waffles, mouthing ‘For free.’ Aniq grinned in thanks and waved goodbye, walking away. 

What happened?!

I found this cute guy, and- Aniq wanted to slap her.

Oh my god, I thought you were in ACTUAL trouble you dumbass!

Hehe- anyways I found this really cute guy and he’s got ears and- OH MY GOD HE’S COMING MY WAY- oh nevermind he’s walking away...

Aniq couldn’t help but laugh at her friend’s simping level. I’ll be there right away. Maybe we can get you to score a date with him.

so basically lads

Aniq (which means classy in Arabic haha see what I did there): Jamil’s younger sister

Karin (a play on the Kalim’s name): Kalim’s younger sister

also they cute Karin’s just rlly affectionate 

[monstersandmaw]

Well, surprise! Here's the full story, available for all patrons ($1+). I previewed it earlier for the Pixies and Goblins, and folks seemed fairly keen. It's 4k words of fluff and smut, with no pronouns mentioned, though the ghost is able to penetrate our reader... Whether that's shapeshifting ectoplasm or something else, I'll leave up to you. And yes, we do make use of that big mirror...

I hope you like my take on a friendly, slightly horny, spirit!

Chunky preview:

“I still don’t see why the place is so cheap,” you muttered to the estate agent as she showed you around.

Hardwood flooring, slightly weathered and a beautiful dark brown; immaculately painted walls that were a nice unobtrusive creamy colour; a huge bay window in the open-plan living and kitchen area, with more windows on either side to let the clear light of this part of town flood in; a bathroom that was almost wastefully spacious; two bedrooms - two! - and a tiny little nook of a room that was probably supposed to be either a cupboard or a study: the whole apartment was breathtaking, and should have been stratospherically beyond your budget, especially in the historic part of town.

“Seriously,” you pressed, coming to a halt in the middle of the master bedroom a moment later, “What’s the catch?”

The estate agent looked a little uncomfortable for a moment and said, “Well… It’s nothing anyone can really put their finger on, but… the person who lived here before said they felt… like the place was…”

You bit your lips. “It’s haunted, isn't it?” you said, trying not to laugh. That was ridiculous. Places didn’t go for under half the expected rent just because someone said it was haunted. Did they?

She looked up at the ceiling and then over at the huge mirror that was sitting on the floor in the master bedroom, resting against the wall and facing the only spot where you could put a bed. Interesting… The thing was so big that it apparently came with the apartment, but you didn’t mind. It made the room feel even bigger, for one thing.

The woman shrugged. “It’s true that that much has been said, but honestly, I’m not sure. There’s no record of anything grizzly happening in the building - no murders or anything -” she said with a slightly spooked laugh. “So I’m not really sure. People just don’t seem to stay, so the owner dropped the price.”

“This close to the university, and in this part of town, I’ll take it,” you said. “Extra roommate or not.”

“Wonderful,” she smiled, shoulders dropping fractionally. Apparently she’d been genuinely worried about you refusing it. As if you’d turn down that acreage of hardwood flooring!

The day you moved in was probably the hottest day of the entire year. It was disgusting. By the third trip back to your battered old car for another groaning cardboard box, perilously held together with peeling selotape, you were dripping with sweat and more than a bit dizzy.

“Fuck, I’m so thirsty already,” you wheezed as the box slithered from your palms onto the floor and you slouched against the wall for a moment, panting.

A minute or so later and marginally less winded, you turned, puffing your cheeks out and sighing, and staggered back down the higgledy-piggledy old path to grab another load of boxes and bags. Dumping them behind the others, you straightened and blinked in surprise as your eyes fell on something across the kitchen. The kitchen tap was dripping ever so slowly, but beside the sink on the counter sat a glass full of water. Warily, you looked around. Had someone entered the house while you’d been ferrying belongings back and forth?

“Hello?”

Nothing happened. Of course. Maybe you’d poured it yourself before you got started and had somehow just forgotten? Unlikely. Shrugging, you navigated your self-made labyrinth of bulging bags and disintegrating cardboard boxes, and downed the glass in one, refilling it and sipping the second one more slowly.

“Thanks,” you smiled. “If there really is a ghost here, at least you’re thoughtful. No peeking on me in the shower though, ok? That’s rude.”

The house groaned softly, like the wooden framework was expanding in the heat, but the timing of it was too much to be coincidental. You fell still and listened, but nothing else happened.

“Is that you?” you asked, and the sash window thunked softly in its casement, as if the wind had rattled it, but the day outside was as airless as the Devil’s armpit. “Alright,” you said, folding your arms. “If you’re there, shut the front door for me…” But it wasn’t as if you actually expected anything to happen.

A sudden tension filled the room, as if the air had crystallised, and, even as you stared at it, the front door very slowly closed itself and the latch clicked shut. Even if a breeze had nudged it, the latch wouldn’t have gone. You swallowed.

“Wow,” you hissed under your breath. “Are you the reason that no one stuck around then?”

A single knock, as of a rapped knuckle on a tabletop, rang out through the apartment.

You swallowed again, throat feeling thick and dry, heart thundering. Distracting yourself, you ran another glass of cold water and sipped it. Then, leaning your bodyweight against the counter, you turned and said slowly, “Ok, I’ve got questions for you. Knock once for yes, and twice for no. Alright?”

After a tiny pause and a slight tingle in the atmosphere, a single knock answered you. Yes.

Read the whole thing right now, as well as the Mermay 2020 posts (five in total, including this Friday’s leopard seal selkie story), plus everything that’s been posted already on Patreon!

[palimpsessed]

The Welsh Red Dragon, Kurt Vonnegut, and Social Activism

The inspiration behind Shepard’s pins

(original post with full artwork here.)

So, I spent A LOT of time thinking about the kind of pins our good friend Shepard (from Omaha, NE) would have on his denim jacket. Like a lot. Like an obsessive amount of time. I made a list, which seemed appropriate for this fandom. And because I’m a nerd and this sort of thing really interests me, and I’m proud of what I came up with, and because I think some of these items open up the possibility for some good, good literary analysis, I decided to make a whole post dedicated to Shepard’s pins. You’re welcome.

First, a little bit about my thought process. How did I decide what kind of pins to give Shepard? Well, he’s a guy full of stories. Stories that he can’t wait to tell anyone and everyone. And stories that others (mostly Maybes) have told him, once he’s earned their confidence. So, I wanted his pins to tell a story, his story in particular. What is the story that Shepard wants to tell about himself? More precisely, what is the story he wants to tell his new magickal friends on a disastrous summer holiday? The story is that of his own magickal credibility. His journey to magic (his come to Crowley moment, perhaps?) (I’d apologize, but I’m not sorry…) and his trustworthiness as evidenced by all of the Maybes he’s met along the way. He’s gotten drunk off dandelion wine with a creek dryad, given a toothbrush to a Sasquatch. spilled the tea with a jackalope, midwifed a centaur foal. Shep’s journey is just as impressive as Simon’s, and while Simon has been collecting notches on his dead dark creature bedpost (that’s a weird fucking metaphor…) (and now I’m thinking about dark creatures and Simon’s bedposts…so, you’re welcome, Basilton), Shep’s been collecting notches of the friendly variety. (Shoutout to @adamarks who did some super lovely analysis on Simon and Shep as mirrors here: https://adamarks.tumblr.com/post/188046272067/ok-so-when-shepard-said-he-was-cursed-the-first). So, I decided that I wanted to use Shep’s pins as a way to show the notches on his bedpost, so to speak. (Okay, I’m really losing this metaphor, but I think you’re still with me.)

Let’s dive in!

(I’m working my way down one side of his jacket at a time, for those following along at home.)

RIGHT SIDE

Welsh Dragon: I made this one very large, and easy to spot on his right shoulder. Of all of his accoutrements, this one felt like the most important. Mainly, because of Simon. Simon is, after all, half-Welsh. (The Mage, may he rest in pain, came to Watford from Wales.) And, of course, Simon, just like the Welsh Dragon, is a red dragon. (Or in the process of becoming one? Or a half-dragon? Or a dragon kitten?…) And the dragon that Simon and Baz fought on the Watford lawn, when they first worked together, and first shared magic, was a red dragon. Of course, the actual dragon in question here is Margaret. Shepard would absolutely have a pin to commemorate his friendship with her. And since I was going to give him a pin with a dragon, I knew I was going to have to use the Welsh Dragon because it would perfectly capture his burgeoning friendship with Simon, as well. Now, I want to go on a slight detour here (this blog post will be its own Odyssey) and talk more about the Welsh Red Dragon. I took the design for the pin from the Welsh flag, which is the thing that first made me think more about Simon’s Welsh connection. I’m not really making a point here, I just think it’s fascinating! There’s a lot of Welsh lore about the Red Dragon (and Margaret herself calls Simon “Great Red” - that ‘R’ is capitalized, by the way, so this seems to be a proper name for the kind of dragon that she thinks Simon is). Full disclosure, I am not Welsh and I am not a scholar on any of this by any means. That being said, a cursory, and super academic, perusal of the Wikipedia article on the Welsh Dragon led me to a few different history websites that linked the symbol of the red dragon with Merlin and King Arthur (son of Uther Pendragon, literally dragon head). Merlin, one of the most well-known magical figures and Arthur, one of the most well-known Chosen One figures in literary tradition. I know very little about Arthurian legend, and Welsh history, and dragon lore, though, so I’m going to just say, do a little research on your own when you’re bored and feeling nerdy!

Resist!: Shep is a young black man (and reasonable human being) living in the U.S. during the [redacted] Administration. I should hope this one is self-explanatory.

Hoover Dam: At some point in his visits to see Blue, I’m sure Shepard stopped off at the gift shop and bought himself a souvenir pin to mark the incredible experience he had making friends with an actual river. (This pin design is based on an actual souvenir pin of the Hoover Dam I found on Google Images—along with most of the other pin designs. I think it’s vintage, which just felt even more like Shepard to me, because he’s the kind of guy who would appreciate stuff that’s got a past.)

Deathly Hallows: I mean, IF the Harry Potter books/movies exist in the Simon Snow universe (which hasn’t been confirmed, as far as I know, by our Queen) I’m sure Shepard would have been totally into it as a kid, and probably would have found greater significance in its magical lore once he discovered that ACTUAL MAGIC EXISTS! So, he would have a pin to show his belief in the magickal world, and maybe also as a nostalgic reminder of when magic was still just something fictional he could turn to for escapism (and not something that would result in being cursed by a demon…).

The Truth is Out There: So, I know virtually nothing about The X-Files (my sister was obsessed with it to the point that she wanted to become a FBI agent for a few years, but I never watched it), but I’m sure Shepard is a fan. If nothing else, the sentiment is awfully apropos.

So It Goes: This one is very hard to see. It sort of looks like a black teardrop with a bar on top of it (it’s supposed to look like a bomb). The pin I based this off of reads “So It Goes”, which from my very superficial research, is a line repeated in Vonnegut’s anti-war novel Slaughterhouse-Five every time someone dies. I don’t know anything more about it, other than that it is a Kurt Vonnegut-inspired pin available for purchase on Etsy, and Shep mentions that he wanted to get a Vonnegut quote tattoo, even though “everybody has those.”

Green Alien Head: You will never be able to convince me that Shepard does not 10,000% believe in the existence of aliens. If he were still in the U.S. during the Area 51 Raid, I’m sure he would have stopped by, just, you know, for science…(I’m thinking he was probably still in the UK, but I guess we’ll see in AWTWB.)

Centaur: This one is also hard to see, but I took the design from a pin I found of one of the centaurs (the blue-haired, blue-bodied one, if that rings a bell for you) from Disney’s Fantasia. (Fun fact: I was super into Fantasia as a littlun, and I attribute my lifelong love for classical music in large part to the centaur sequence and my latent lesbianism—I mean, it was ludicrously erotic. Watch it sometime and tell me it would not make an impression on a sapphic three-year-old.) Midwifing a centaur foal was probably a very emotional and formative experience for Shepard. Buying this pin would be his way of remembering that experience, and the excitement and gratitude he likely felt to have been entrusted with that kind of acceptance from the centaur(s).

Jackalope: It doesn’t help that this pin is almost the same color as Shepard’s jacket, but it’s based off a design of a jackalope’s head that, again, I found on Google Image search (honestly, I don’t know how I ever made art without it). We know that Shepard once got some gossip from a jackalope, who vented to him about magicians calling “themselves ‘magicians’”, like “they’re the only ones with magic”. (This is totally irrelevant, but I always think of Americans when I read this. I am an American, by the way. America is a continent, but those of us living in the U.S. calls ourselves Americans, like everyone else living in America doesn’t matter.) Anyway, the jackalope offered Shepard some valuable insight into the political workings of the magickal world, so it gets its own pin.

LEFT SIDE

Pansexual Pride Flag Pin: I mean, technically, canonically, we don’t know what Shepard’s sexuality (or asexuality) is, but I just get some vibes from him. Plus, if we take him as a mirror for Simon (who is somewhere on the bi-plus spectrum), it’s not a far cry to imagine he also identifies somewhere on that spectrum.

Pentagram: This is another symbol that I chose based on my interpretation of Shepard’s character, and not so much on a Maybe or a story that he mentioned. The pentagram, or pentacle, is typically associated with the occult and witchcraft, which is something that could potentially also be said of Shep.

Sasquatch: You don’t go backpacking—or not backpacking—and introduce a Sasquatch to the benefits of dental hygiene without getting yourself a souvenir of the hike.

I [heart] Mystery Spot: The Mystery Spot is a weird sort of phenomenon in California (my home state). It’s a place outside the beach town of Santa Cruz that boasts of a “gravitational anomaly” on its website. I went once, years ago, and while you’re there, it can feel pretty convincing. (Also, I was probably like 10, so…) People outside of California will likely never have heard of this place, but driving around here (at least in the Bay Area, where I am, which isn’t that far from Santa Cruz) you’ll see yellow Mystery Spot bumper stickers on cars everywhere. I’m not really sure what the thing is with the bumper stickers. Like, I’m sure not that many people actually think it’s legit, and maybe it’s like one of those things that Californians just do (like freak out and forget how to drive when we feel water falling from the sky). But yeah, these bumper stickers are everywhere. Anyway, Shepard drives around a lot. He knows about the Vampires of Las Vegas (how is that not an indie rock band?) and the Katherine Hotel, and the Next Blood. So, he’s probably made it past Nevada and into California before. And while he was there, it’s not a great stretch of the imagination that someone who chases after magic wouldn’t wind up at a place called the Mystery Spot and get himself a pin while he was there. (And maybe even a bumper sticker.)

Black Power Fist: Unfortunately, this one is also hard to see, because the fist is black and I didn’t have anything to go over the outlines of the fingers with, which I sort of didn’t think about when I colored it. This one also feels self-explanatory. Shepard is black. Blackness has long been treated in itself as a crime by non-black members of law enforcement, and just the general racist population of the U.S. Young black men are especially vulnerable to racially motivated violence. I’m sure Shep, who drives all over the country by himself and gets into high speed chases at night in the middle of nowhere Nebraska while hunting super shifty rando Maybes has had a run-in or two. Stay safe, Shep!

Every Pronoun Belongs Here [Trans Pride Flag background]: Also, super hard to see because the letters are too small to read. I found this exact pin in a basket by the register at my local bookshop. (Support local bookshops, people!) They were being sold as a fundraiser for a LGBTQ club at one of the high schools, and I loved the idea that I could help them raise money and add this pin to my own growing collection to show off my support for trans rights. (Support trans rights and trans people, people!) I decided to give Shepard this same pin, because I could imagine him having an almost identical book buying experience in a dozen other towns that he’s probably visited. And I love the simplicity of the message, because it’s one of belonging, which EVERYONE is desperately seeking, no matter who they are or how they identify, and Shepard, and every character in this picture, is no exception. (Plus, it seemed like a cool way to connect my pin collection with Shep’s. Maybe I should have mentioned the fact that I’m also a pin person at the beginning? I walk to work and on my lunch breaks, so I carry all of my stuff in a backpack. And I proudly display my random pin collection on my backpack. Including several Simon Snow-related pins.)

Don’t Panic: This was based off a Hitchhiker’s Guide to the Galaxy pin. I don’t really know anything about the Hitchhiker’s Guide to the Galaxy (including if it’s okay to abbreviate it as HGG? THGTTG? whatever), even though I did watch the movie years back when it was on TV and I still lived with my parents who had a TV. But the sentiment felt appropriate, and Shepard is a sort of magickal hitchhiker. Apart from managing to hold down a job at Dick Blick, he appears to lead a somewhat nomadic lifestyle. He tells Penny, “the road is my teacher”, and if that’s not a hitchhiker slogan, I don’t know what is. (Ass, gas, or grass?)

Black Lives Matter: They do. Just sayin’.

Magic Troll Doll: When I was growing up, the Troll doll was all the (nightmare-inducing) rage. Trolls are one of those magickal creatures that are continually mentioned in the series. Shepard talks about lonely trolls under bridges. Simon talks about killing trolls. Agatha would rather kiss a troll. And Baz was kidnapped by numpties, who are sort of like trolls. I couldn’t not include a troll. And the Troll doll specifically felt perfect, because the full name was Magic Troll Doll. You can bet if Shepard had to pick a troll-related pin, it would be a magic(k)al one.

[Asshole]: This is another Kurt Vonnegut pin. It looks like a messily drawn asterisk (*), but it’s actually meant to be an asshole (taken from the preface of Vonnegut’s novel Breakfast of Champions, and drawn by Vonnegut himself). I just thought, why the fuck not? So, here. Have an asshole pin. (I should have put it on a buttonhole…)

HONOURABLE MENTION

Shepard’s Phone Case: Remember that line I quoted earlier, about Shep wanting to get a Vonnegut quote tattoo? Well, when I was trying to figure out what to put on his phone case, I thought that seemed like a reasonable place to start. So, I googled Vonnegut quotes, to see if I could find one that I thought Shepard would like. Here’s the quote: “a purpose of human life, no matter who is controlling it, is to love whoever is around to be loved.” I just loved that for Shepard.

[calumcest]

i took a walk with my fame down memory lane (i never did find my way back) - chapter eight

[ao3]

this is the latest i’ve ever posted a chapter...but technically it still counts. as long as i havent slept its still monday and you dont know whether i live in california or not 

@tirednotflirting​ thank u for entertaining my insane little ideas and improving them this fic is truly nothing without you and @kaleidoscopeminds​ thank you for making my entire fucking week with that helpful little encouragement although i have to say its only monday so don’t get too gassed about that compliment. 

i said on ao3 that half of this was written to a specific song so here i’m going to reveal the other half was written to just be good to green by professor green which honestly? fucking slaps i can’t be lying to you on this fine monday evening/tuesday morning 

They have a few dates in the UK at the end of December, and Calum finds that his week or so away from his band has actually been a week too long. It almost made him forget the warmth that fizzles through his veins with the laughter that comes from Noel making contemptuous comments about Liam and Bonehead and Liam and Tony and Liam again, from Bonehead cheering loudly as Calum and the brothers groan and wince when they hear -and City have conceded yet another goal, this really is poor form- on the radio, from Liam slinging an arm around Calum in a bar in Glasgow and grinning madly at him, eyes lit up from the high of the show and the booze and the drugs, and shouting I fucking love you, Cal, over the sound of the shitty music. It makes Calum grin back, makes him press a sloppy kiss to Liam’s cheek, makes him giddy with the thoughts of how could I ever give this up? that rattle around what little of his mind the coke in his veins has left him. 

It’s good, though, because the week-and-a-half apart is all the breathing space they needed, so once they’ve all recovered from their frankly alarming post-New-Year’s hangovers, the first few weeks of January, which are precious weeks off, are spent cooped up in a rehearsal space, or down the pub, or lying on the floor of Noel’s flat, stoned out of his mind, or wrapped up in a bunch of sky-blue scarves screaming abuse at the away stand at Maine Road. 

Or, looking at houses in London. 

Calum had mentioned it to Liam in a carefully-casual way, biting the inside of his cheek to contain a smile as Liam’s bright blue eyes had lit up and he’d said, a little too enthusiastically, eeyar, y’know Kentish Town’s a right nice area? Bet you could find a place there, too.

“Have you got a place, then?” Calum had asked, and Liam had shaken his head. 

“Not yet,” he’d said. “Got some more viewings next week, though, if you fancy tagging along.” Calum had hummed, and nodded. 

“Might do,” he’d said. “What’re you looking at?” 

“Houses,” Liam had said immediately. “Big fuck-off houses. Mansions." Calum had snorted, and rolled his eyes. Typical. 

“Give us the number of your estate agent,” he’d said. “I’ll ring and see if they’ve got anything for me.” 

So Liam had called Noel and asked for the estate agent’s number, because he’d lost his address book again, and then Calum had rung the estate agent and told them vaguely what he was looking for - a place somewhere around Kentish Town, not too far from a pub if possible - asked to be put on the books, and been posted a few particulars. There had been a few places he’d been interested in, two houses and one flat, and with a little bit of wrangling he’d managed to get himself viewings on the same day that Liam had said he’d be going down, which is how they’ve ended up here.

They’ve seen both the houses that Calum had been considering, neither of which were quite right - one had a deceptively large garden, which Calum simply can’t be bothered to deal with, and the kitchen of the other one needed far too much work doing - and they’re in the second of Liam’s now, ambling around an airy, spacious living room. It’s a nice house, Calum thinks as he runs a finger over the mantelpiece above the fireplace, if a little big for his own taste. Liam, though, seems to be fucking loving it, craning his neck to look at the high ceilings and the sash windows, whatever the fuck those are. Calum had tuned out of whatever the fuck the estate agent’s droning on about approximately ten minutes ago, electing to simply wander around on the other side of the room, lost in his own thoughts. 

It’s going to be fucking weird, he thinks, living in London. Manchester’s home. It’s where he’s been for almost six years, where his life had gone from bland and mundane to the fucking rollercoaster it is now, where he'd settled in and grown into himself. It’s going to be fucking weird being away from it, not going to Maine Road on a Saturday afternoon or a Tuesday evening, not heading down to the pub round the corner from his house for a pint with Liam, not hopping on a bus to cross town to Noel’s flat. Somehow it feels even stranger than when he’d first found out he’d be going on tour, leaving Manchester and sleeping in a different city every night, because he’d still always known where his home was. Sydney hadn’t ever really felt like home, not in the way Manchester does, and it makes Calum’s skin prickle with a tiny bit of fear to think that he’s choosing to uproot himself again, choosing to displace himself entirely this time, on a strange leap of faith chasing his best friends down to London. 

Well, he thinks, glancing over at Liam again, and a warm wave of comfort washes over the prickling under his skin. At least he’ll have a little bit of home here with him. 

Almost like he knows he’s being watched, Liam turns on his heel and catches Calum’s eye.

“What d’you think?” he says, like they’re a couple, or something. Calum shrugs. He likes it well enough, but it’s not his money, is it?

“‘S your money,” he says. 

“Yeah, but what d’you think?” Calum shrugs again, casting his eyes back up at the huge bay windows opening out onto the street. He can imagine Liam here, sprawled out across a big sofa with ten empty bottles in front of him, TV blaring in the background, phone hanging off the hook. He’d probably have those NME covers of himself blown up and hung on the wall over there, maybe above the fireplace, might even get a vinyl of their album and stick that up on the wall behind the sofa- yeah, Calum can imagine Liam here. 

“I like it,” he says. “Think it suits you.” Liam beams at him. 

“Yeah?” he says, and turns back to the estate agent, who’s been hovering a little nervously in the doorway as Liam prodded around the brilliant white living room. “How much was this one, again?” 

“Five hundred and forty six thousand,” the estate agent says politely, and Liam nods thoughtfully, like that isn’t the most enormous sum of money Calum’s ever heard of. 

“D’you want to ring our accountant, maybe?” Calum says pointedly, and Liam shakes his head. 

“Seeing Noel tomorrow,” he says, and Calum hums. Fair enough. Noel’ll probably know the state of Liam’s finances better than their accountant, anyway. "Right, let's have a look at your little bedsit, then, eh?" Calum rolls his eyes, and shoots Liam a playful glare. 

"Get to fuck," he says, and Liam grins, following the estate agent out of the house. 

The flat Calum had liked the look of is literally around the corner from the house Liam’s keen on, and there’s a pub halfway between the two of them that Liam points out and stops outside of, peering in and asking the estate agent how much a pint costs there. 

“Two pound fifty?” he echoes in shock, when the estate agent informs him. “Who the fuck do they think they are?”

“You’re literally a fucking millionaire,” Calum reminds him, and Liam tears his gaze away from the window to glower at him. 

“It’s the fucking principle,” he says, but he slouches away from the pub, albeit not without throwing it one final glare. 

The flat’s on the ground floor of a huge house, one that looks like something Calum might expect Brett Anderson to live in, and he has half a mind to ask whether any other potential rival band members are living in the area before letting Liam loose in it, but decides he’s not going to play the role of Liam’s minder if he doesn’t have to. He, at least, isn’t bound to him by blood and double-helixes like some people, and he’s going to take full advantage of that. 

The estate agent’s saying something about excellent schools in the area as they walk in, and Calum just stares at her back, thinking do I fucking look like I’m about to have kids? I don’t even know how to boil an egg or change a lightbulb - or anything beyond playing bass and taking drugs, really. Liam doesn’t hold back his snort, and Calum throws him a glare over his shoulder but can’t hide the amused smile playing at his lips, which just encourages Liam, makes him say eeyar, Cal, could tuck your little kids Mary and Jane into bed right here, couldn't you? when they get into the smaller bedroom.

The flat’s not too big, but it’s definitely not small, either - two bedrooms, a living room, a bathroom and a toilet, and a kitchen, with a little patio at the back over the shared garden which, the estate agent assures him, is taken care of by the building managers. It’s exactly the right size, really - big enough that Calum feels like he’d have breathing space, even with the four noisy Mancunians that are inevitably going to be spreading themselves out across his new place like they’d been the ones to spend a few hundred thousand on it, but small enough that it wouldn’t feel empty, wouldn’t make him feel lonely if he were there on his own, and, more importantly, wouldn’t be a fucking ballache to clean. 

He looks down at the particulars he’d had the foresight to bring with him - or rather, that his mum had shoved in his hand before he’d left the house - and scans it for the price again. A hundred and ten thousand, alright. That’s still fucking extortionate, but after hearing the price of the place Liam’s thinking of it feels like a bargain, and he’s already got his mortgage in place thanks to the chivvying from his parents, so he turns to the estate agent when they get to the kitchen and says: “I’d like to make an offer at the asking price.” She brightens, and nods. 

“We have one more viewing on this property this afternoon, but I’ll get in touch with the seller as soon as I get back to the office and let him know,” she says, and Calum smiles politely at her, feeling incredibly out of his depth. Fucking hell, maybe he’s not ready for this. Maybe it’s too early to be living on his own; maybe he should have a transition period, move in with Liam, or something, rent something in Manchester. 

But, like he can sense it, Liam turns to him, and nods decisively. 

"This is your fucking place," he says, like it's obvious. "And I'll be right 'round the corner." 

So it's decided.

Buying a flat, it turns out, though, is a right fucking hassle.

It involves lawyers, which Calum hadn’t expected, and it involves a surveyor, which he’d never even heard of, and it involves his parents insisting on coming down to London to look at the property he’s chosen, like they can’t trust him to make an adult decision. 

(Well, Calum thinks, when Liam casually offers him a bump of coke in the pub the evening before they're due to go down to London. Maybe they’re right.) 

His mum thinks the kitchen is too small for entertaining, and Calum doesn’t have the heart to tell her that the kitchen probably won’t be used for anything other than storing alcohol for a good few years, and his dad thinks the shower could do with replacing, which Calum just nods at - he’s not sure how he’d go about doing that; call a plumber? A builder? He’ll figure something out - but they both nod, satisfied, when Calum’s finished the full tour and turns back to them expectantly. 

“How close did you say Liam would be, again?” his mum asks, too casually, and Calum can’t help but laugh as he leads them out. 

There’s no way it’ll all be done before they have to head back out on tour again, so Calum has to sign a bunch of documents authorising his parents to be informed about what stage of the buying process he's in, but the lawyer Noel had found for him assures him that everything will be done by the end of January when they’re back for a few days for the NME awards and Calum’s birthday. 

About a week and a half before the NME awards, Michael calls. 

“A little birdy tells me you’re buying a place in London,” is how he greets Calum when Calum picks up the phone after hearing the Calum, it’s Michael yelled up at him from the kitchen, and Calum can’t help but huff out a surprised laugh. 

“How the fuck d'you know that?” he says. 

“I’ve got my sources,” Michael says, and Calum can hear that he’s grinning. 

“You’re not spying on me, are you?” Calum says, a little suspiciously. 

"'Course not," Michael says breezily. "Can't speak for Damon, though. Y'know, this whole Blur-Oasis thing is really stepping up a notch with the NME awards around the corner." Calum can’t help but smile himself, grinning down at his lap. 

“Fuck off,” he says, and he feels comfortable saying it, and Michael laughs, and it all makes a strange warmth curl up and make a home for itself in the pit of his stomach. 

“Dave’s looking to move to Kentish Town,” Michael explains. “Went to an estate agent, who said it was surprising to see three members of Oasis and one member of Blur there in the space of a week.” 

“Those bastards,” Calum says evenly. “Thought we were paying for exclusive rights to their services. Pretty sure Liam would've made sure we had a verbal contract, or something; none of those Blur cunts allowed." Michael laughs again, and the sound goes straight to something deep in Calum, something that he reckons might be either his heart or soul but chooses to ignore because he can feel the threat of panic rising in his chest at the very thought of entertaining that idea. 

“What made you decide to move down, then?” Michael says, and Calum shrugs, even though Michael can’t see him. 

“Thought it was about time I moved out,” he says. “And- y’know. London’s sort of the place to be, if you’re in the music scene.” Michael hums. 

“Y’know Kentish Town’s right around the corner from Camden?” he says, a little too nonchalantly. “‘S where that fish and chip shop I took you to was.” Calum swallows. 

“Yeah, I know,” he says. He hesitates, and then adds, in an equally too-casual voice: “You’ll have to show me around the area.” 

“Might do,” Michael says lightly. “For a fee.” 

“I’m going to be skint after buying this place,” Calum tells him. "It'd be an act of charity." 

“Who said the fee was monetary?” Michael says, and Calum’s heart skips a beat. He clears his throat, and goes to say something, but can't. It doesn't matter, though, because Michael’s carrying on, a little hastily, like he’s picked up on Calum’s silence. “You could nick me a few of Noel’s songs. Damon’s really struggling for lyrics. Came into the rehearsal room yesterday after being stuck in traffic with a song that goes who maddest one on the M1?” He pauses, and then says: “It’s pretty good, though.” Calum can’t help but snort at that, heart beating a little too fast, even though Michael’s glossed over the awkward moment. Or maybe papered over it; Calum's never been great at telling the difference.

“I’m not looking to get murdered,” he says, and Michael sighs dramatically. “Plus, it’s not like Noel’s lyrics are any better.” 

“True,” Michael muses. “What’s that one about, fucking, Mr Soft?” Calum huffs out a laugh at that, leaning back on his bed. 

“Don’t remember a song about fucking Mr Soft,” he says, and Michael tuts, but Calum can hear the note of amusement in it. 

“Should’ve been that instead,” Michael says flippantly. “I reckon it would’ve been an improvement.” 

“Bit rich, coming from someone who’s got a song that half-consists of the word ‘parklife’,” Calum retorts, and Michael makes a noise of indignance. 

“That’s a fucking brilliant tune,” he says, and Calum can hear the smile in his voice. 

“Damon barely even sings on it,” Calum says. 

“Shouldn’t do, either, for what we had to pay Phil Daniels,” Michael remarks. “Damon’s obsessed with getting these fucking features on. D’you know we’ve got Ken Livingstone lined up for our next album?” Calum can’t help but laugh out loud at that, bright and surprised. 

“Ken Livingstone?” he echoes. “Like, Ken Livingstone?” 

“Yeah,” Michael says, and he sounds exasperated, but fond. “I don’t know what the fuck is going through Damon’s head most of the time, but it’s easier to just give him a pat on the head and go aww, Damon, that's a lovely idea, what a clever boy you are than to try and understand him. Don’t have the energy for that. And I’m still making money, aren’t I?” 

“If your house is anything to go by,” Calum says. 

“Hey,” Michael says, mock-serious. “Let’s not talk about my house. Nice flat you’re buying.” Calum has to concede there, with a grin. He’s got a point. 

“Does Damon call all the shots, then?” he asks, a little curious. He doesn’t actually know much about Blur’s dynamic - they’re nowhere near as transparent as Oasis are, and all he really knows is what he’s heard from Michael, which seems to be that they’re decent blokes and good friends, and what he’s picked up from the Oasis camp, which seems to be that they’re all Tories and that the jury’s still out on whether they’re the antichrist or whether that’s Liam. 

“What’s this, trying to infiltrate us?” Michael asks, but Calum can hear that he’s smiling. “He tries, but Graham won’t let him. We sort of step back and let their do their thing most of the time. Alex gets involved, sometimes, but I think Graham and Damon like the fighting.” Calum hums, not really sure what to say to that, besides sounds like Noel and Liam.

“You’d like Damon, I think,” Michael says, after a moment of silence. 

“Yeah?” 

“Yeah. Well, y’know. If your insane bandmates would let you.” 

“Yeah, well.” Calum shrugs, a little awkwardly, and casts his eyes back down at his lap, picking at his pyjama bottoms. Michael doesn’t say anything to that for a minute, just breathes down the phone line and lets the two of them simmer in a slightly-uncomfortable silence, and then he sighs. 

“I should go,” he says. Don’t, Calum wants to say, but he doesn’t have a good enough reason to keep Michael on the line. Michael pauses, like maybe he’d been waiting for Calum to ask him not to go, and then sighs again. “Alright, well. I’ll see you at the NME awards, I guess.” Calum’s stomach twists. Shit. He’d forgotten Blur were going to be there. 

“Yeah,” Calum says. “Yeah, we’ll be there. Don’t think you’ll be able to miss us, the number of awards we’ve been nominated for.” Michael laughs at that, and it’s soft, but it’s a little wistful. Maybe Calum should have asked him to stay. Maybe he didn’t need a good enough reason. Maybe just wanting him to would have been reason enough. It’s too late now, though, because Michael’s saying I don’t think anyone within a six mile radius of Liam can miss him, and Calum huffs out another laugh, but the smile accompanying it doesn’t quite reach his eyes. 

“I’ll see you then,” he says, and then hesitates, and adds: “I mean-”

“I know,” Michael says quickly, and Calum’s grateful for it. “I promise not to even look in your direction all night.” Calum snorts. 

“What’re you going to do when we’re up on stage collecting all the awards we’ve beaten you to?" 

“Go to the loo,” Michael says immediately, and this time, the smile does reach Calum’s eyes. 

“You’ll be up and down like a fucking yo-yo,” Calum says. 

“I wouldn’t be so sure, given the number of awards we’re up for,” Michael says, and it’s smooth and cocky, confident without being arrogant, and it sends something electric charging through Calum, knocking the breath out of his lungs and making his vision blur a little around the edges for a moment. What the fuck is that? 

“Guess we’ll have to wait and see,” Calum manages to get out, proud of and relieved at how light and even his voice sounds. 

“Guess we will.” Michael’s voice is light and amused, but that searing edge of confidence is still there, and Calum has to swallow, mouth suddenly dry. “I’ll see you there.” 

“You will.” He hears Michael breathing for a moment longer, and then there’s a click, and he’s gone, leaving Calum sitting in bed, staring at the wall opposite him, mind finally kicking into gear and helpfully offering him an explanation for the way his heart’s racing in his chest and his breath coming out a little shorter and shallower than before. 

Arousal. 

 -------

 They have a show in Hollywood on the twenty-second, which means Noel ramps up rehearsals for the week before they go, probably mostly because he just loves to wield power over them all. Calum doesn’t really mind, though, enjoys the way that Liam and Noel snipe at each other, the way Bonehead grumbles about needing to re-tune his guitar again because he can’t be bothered to restring it, the way that they all roll their eyes at Tony when he fucks up the rhythm for Supersonic again in the first few bars. 

Well, actually, he’s not enjoying that so much. 

See, he knows Tony’s not the best drummer, the same way he knows that Noel’s far from the best guitarist and he’s not the best bassist. They’re all getting there, though - Calum can hear how much better he sounds than even half a year ago - except for Tony. Tony’s not got any better, doesn’t even seem to care enough to try, content to get by with what he’s got away with doing so far and then go down to the pub for a pint or two and ring his missus when he gets back to the hotel, but it’s not good enough anymore. It might have worked when they were fighting tooth and nail to get on a bill, but now, when they’re selling out bigger and bigger venues, when they’re on a six-album contract and they’re in the running to be the biggest fucking band in Britain, it’s not enough. 

The tension’s been mounting for a while, the exasperated looks Noel throws in Tony’s direction turning to scornful, to ugly, twisted lips and dark, furrowed brows, but so far, no one’s said anything. Liam might snipe at him a little more, might seek him out to get out his pent-up anger when Noel’s tired of fighting with him, and Noel might snap at him faster, might say Jesus, you’re fucking incompetent with absolutely no shred of fond exasperation, but no one’s said anything. It’s only a matter of time, though, Calum thinks, as he watches Tony falter on the beat again and Noel turn around, fingers stilling on the strings, shoot him a furious look and say d’you feel up to doing your fucking job today, or what? Should I do it myself? They’re going to have to address it at some point. 

Not now, though. Now, they’re flying to America again, and Calum’s trying to get Liam to go to sleep on the flight instead of demanding peanuts from the poor air hostesses every two minutes, and Noel’s turning around in his seat and saying stop kicking me, you dick to Bonehead, who just shrugs and kicks harder, and Tony’s pretending to nap across the aisle. Everything’s in its strange, fragile balance, and none of them want to be the first to upset it. 

The show in Hollywood goes well enough - which is measured by the fact that Noel only had ten minutes of criticisms to hand out, rather than the usual twenty - and then they’re flying back to the UK, drugged-up and exhausted from jumping back and forth across timezones, being ushered into a hotel in London and told you’ve got a day off, and the NME awards in the evening. That’s a human evening, Bonehead, not fucking midnight. Calum’s sharing with Liam that day - or is it night, he can’t fucking tell anymore - and they just fall right into bed and sleep for sixteen hours, only waking up at five in the afternoon when someone hammers on their door and shouts Noel says to wake you up, and to tell you that you’re lazy cunts. Liam rolls over, and blinks blearily at Calum. 

“Time’s it?” he mumbles, and Calum squints at the bright red numbers on the alarm clock balanced precariously on the edge of his bedside table. 

“Five,” he says. Liam groans, and rolls onto his back, staring at the ceiling. 

“Fucking Noel,” he says. “Don’t even have to leave for another hour. Prick just wants to torture me.” 

“Probably,” Calum agrees, because that sounds like Noel. Liam groans again, rubs at his eyes, and then pushes himself up on his elbows, looking back over at Calum. 

“Did we raid the minibar last night?” he asks, and Calum thinks for a moment, and then shakes his head. Liam smiles, satisfied, and swings his legs out of bed, stretching and yawning as he gets to his feet. 

“Perfect,” he says, heading straight for the little fridge under the desk. “Noel can pay for these, then.” Calum just rolls his eyes, but he’s grinning when Liam winks at him over his shoulder and tosses him a little bottle of vodka. 

They drink the entire minibar between them, and by the time they’re heading out for the car that’s waiting to pick them up, Calum’s laughing at everything Liam’s saying, skin pleasantly warm and tingling, which is just encouraging Liam to say stupider and stupider things and gesticulate more and more wildly. Usually, Noel would nip that right in the bud, but he’s a little pink-cheeked himself, just laughs along at Liam’s antics and the weird little stories he tells on the journey to the venue. 

It’s fucking packed when they get there, and Calum’s almost blinded when a few cameras go off in his face, and he barely has time to think brilliant, bet I look fucking great in those before someone’s tugging on his sleeve and pulling him up the steps and inside. He’s still blinking away the blue-green-purple behind his eyes as he stumbles into the room, gets ushered to a table with the rest of them, and twists around in his chair, trying to drink in the rest of the room. 

It’s fucking packed, and it’s full of people Calum recognises from festivals and from magazines and newspapers - Elastica, Radiohead, Suede, Pulp - but he’s only really looking for one band. He’s trying to do it as subtly as possible, though, knows he doesn’t have a lot of time to look before Noel notices and gets shirty about it, but can’t find them anywhere in the crowd of people as people get up and sit down and lean around their table to talk to someone at another table. He turns back to his own band, tuning into the conversation that’s going on about whether or not they’d actually been nominated for Best Single; he'll just look for Michael the next time the Gallaghers have gone to take whatever it is they're on tonight.

There’s drink on the table, and there’s drugs in Noel and Liam’s pockets, and by the time the ceremony’s begun they’re all looking very fucking merry and pleased with themselves. The brothers actually manage to behave themselves, though, sitting back quietly as the first award - Best LP - is introduced. 

Of fucking course, it’s Blur. 

They watch as Blur traipse to the stage to a round of polite applause, looking very relaxed and pleased with themselves, coming from somewhere against the wall to the far left of the Oasis table, and Calum feels his heart start to speed up as he spots Michael at the back of the group, saying something to Graham with a smile on his face that makes Graham laugh too as they follow in Damon, Dave and Alex’s wake. 

Damon leans into the microphone, saying something about thank you to the fans, blah blah blah, but Calum’s just staring at Michael, willing him to catch his eye. Michael’s scanning the crowd in a way that Calum could mistake for idle if he didn’t see the slight narrowing of his eyes, the slight downturn of his lips. He’s looking at the back, then at the left, then somewhere around the middle, and then finally his eyes fall on Calum’s table, and his lips curve upwards ever-so-slightly. 

And then, like Noel and Liam aren’t sat right fucking there, he winks. 

Calum knows what he’s saying. First award goes to me, eh? Fucking cocky little shit, he thinks, through the haze of alcohol, but it makes his next intake of breath a little sharper all the same. 

“Pricks,” Liam says derisively, reaching for another beer. Calum hums his agreement, but his eyes don’t leave Michael, who’s now trying to suppress a fully-fledged smile. Calum shakes his head, almost imperceptibly, and reaches for his own beer, just for something to put between himself and Michael. 

Damon finishes his speech, thank you to their management, blah blah blah, and then they’re heading back off the stage, and Michael breaks his eye contact with Calum easily, like it’s nothing, tossing another nonchalant comment that Calum can’t make out in Damon’s direction. It sort of stings, seeing how easily Michael can act like it's nothing, but it’s also an odd relief, because Calum’s all too aware of the two fuckers he’s sat between. 

He’s downed another beer by the time the next award’s being announced - Best Single - and it looks like they have indeed been nominated for it, because they win it. 

“Fucking get in,” Liam crows, getting to his feet, and Noel doesn’t even have it in him to do anything but cuff him upside the head fondly as they head for the stage. 

“None of you cunts deserve this,” he says, as they jog up the steps. “Least of all you.” He directs the last part at Tony, but unlike the first half of his sentence, it’s got an edge of venom to it, a bit of Noel’s cruel streak leaking through. Calum shoots Noel a sharp look as they head for the podium, because tonight is not the fucking night, and shakes his head. 

“Don’t be a cunt,” he says, and Noel just shrugs, turning away from him to accept their award and then stepping over to lean into the microphone. Liam’s there too, quick as a fucking flash, not willing to let Noel have any more than about forty percent of the limelight, and Calum just rolls his eyes and steps back, deciding to just let the fucking shitshow happen. He’s got other things to think about, anyway - Blur had come from his left when he’d been sat down, so they should be sat somewhere on what’s now his right, and he frowns as he scans the room, squinting into the bright stage lights as he tries to make out the all-too familiar shape of Michael sat at a table.

He actually spots Damon before he spots Michael, and he feels an odd stab of excited anticipation make his heart lurch as his eyes slide around the table, like he’s a fucking fifteen year old with a crush again. There’s Graham, Dave, some woman he doesn’t know, Alex- 

Luke.

Fucking hell. 

He’d completely forgotten, somehow, that Luke - and Ashton, who’s sat right next to him - were going to be here. It makes his stomach tighten, seeing the two of them again in this unfamiliar context, makes him blink like they’re going to fucking disappear if he tries hard enough. Luke’s hair is long, now, curly like it always used to be after they’d been swimming at Bondi Beach, and he’s broad as fuck, fills out the shirt he’s wearing in a way that would probably make Calum’s mouth water if it were anyone other than Luke. Ashton looks older, too, has his sleeves rolled up far enough to expose very muscled arms, hair dyed black and one slightly-curled strand falling into his eyes. He’s got his hands in front of him, clasped together and elbows on the table, and Luke’s leaning back in his seat, one arm around the back of Ashton’s chair, leaning into him a little. They look the same, and they look so different.

Calum doesn’t even realise Liam and Noel are done with their antics until Bonehead shoves at him with his shoulder and inclines his head with a frown, signalling get off the fucking stage, you prat. It only just occurs to his alcohol-addled mind to flick a quick glance over at Michael, who’s grinning up at him easily, even looking a little proud, and it makes Calum’s already-leaden stomach flip somehow, in a way that he thinks might be pleasant but isn’t entirely sure about. 

He follows the rest of his band off the stage in a daze, almost trips over his own feet at least four times on his way back to the table, drawing enough attention to himself that Liam throws him a frown as they sit down, concern for Calum cutting through all the drink and drugs in his veins. 

“What’s up with you?” he asks, managing to make it sound hostile somehow. Calum blinks at him. 

He can say it, can’t he? It’s not like they’ve got any shit with Luke and Ashton. Well, Noel probably will on principle, but anyone who isn’t the most vindictive person on the planet shouldn’t have. 

“I, uh,” he says, and clears his throat as he realises Noel’s tuned into the conversation too, even though he’s still facing the stage, sitting far too still as he listens to what Calum has to say. “I saw the Blur table. Michael’s brought two of my best mates from Sydney.” 

“Oh,” Liam says, sounding a little disappointed, like he’d been expecting something juicier than that. “D’you wanna go and say hi?” That gets Noel to turn around, to shoot Liam a furious glare. 

“Are you insane?” he demands. 

“What?” Liam says defensively. “They’re his mates.” 

“They’re with Michael.”

“So? They’re still Calum’s mates.” 

“They’re with Blur.” Liam scoffs. 

“Don’t be so fucking unreasonable,” he says, raising his voice a little to be heard over the applause as the next award is announced - Calum has no idea what it is, but Blur are receiving it again. Noel laughs incredulously, and his eyes are narrowed and cold, and Calum thinks for fuck’s sake, not again. 

“I’m being fucking unreasonable?” Noel says. 

“Yeah, you fucking are,” Liam says stubbornly. “What the fuck have they done? They’re not in Blur, are they?” 

“They’re-” Noel cuts himself off, throwing his hands up in the air, like the fact that Liam’s not on his side on this is beyond him. Liam throws him one last look, and then turns back to Calum. 

“D’you want to say hi?” he asks again, and Calum hesitates. He’s not really sure. 

“Jesus, why don’t you ask him if he wants to fuck Mike again too, while he’s at it?” Noel says scornfully, which makes Liam’s eyes flash with anger for a moment, and he rounds on Noel again. 

“Shut the fuck up,” he says. “Just fucking leave it.” 

“Leave it?” Noel echoes. “Leave-” 

“Stop it," Liam says, something uncharacteristically firm and serious to his tone. "You’re making yourself too obvious.” That makes Noel’s mouth snap shut, but his jaw muscles continue to work furiously as he glowers at Liam, something so irate in his expression that Calum can’t even read it. He doesn’t want to, anyway, not when he sees the defiant set of Liam’s jaw and realises they’re having one of those brotherly we know something you don’t know moments, sees the silent conversation occurring between the two of them and just waits it out, waits for one of them to snap. It’s Noel this time, folding his arms and sitting back in his chair, still glaring at Liam, but Liam seems to know what he means by that, because he throws Noel one final look that looks almost like those I’m disappointed in you looks that Noel so often sends Liam, and turns back to Calum again. 

“Let’s go over,” he says. 

“Not now,” Noel says sternly. Nothing to do with Blur, though; this is Noel’s business voice. “We’re in the middle of a fucking awards ceremony.” 

“So?” Liam says, with a carefree shrug. 

“No.” Liam looks like he wants to argue for a moment, but Noel holds his gaze, and eventually Liam sighs and slumps back in his seat. 

“Fine,” he says sullenly, but before Noel has time to say something cutting in response, everyone around them is jumping to their feet and cheering. 

“What?” Calum says to Bonehead, who throws him a funny look. 

“Best new band,” he says, and Calum’s heart clenches, but in a way that he definitely likes. 

Fucking hell, he thinks, as he gets to his feet and grins broadly at Noel, who grins back, the previous conversation completely forgotten. Well, that makes him two-for-two with Michael, doesn't it?

 -------

 Oasis end up winning three awards, eclipsed only by Blur, who take home five. Liam claims that they win four, though, because Alan wins the Godlike Genius award, and he’s basically Oasis, innit? Oh, fuck off, Noel, you’re not Oasis. If anything, right, I’m Oasis, ‘cause- and then Calum tunes out. 

Someone mentions something about an afterparty, because of course they do, and everyone agrees enthusiastically. They’re all getting to their feet when Liam turns to Calum with a look of surprise on his face, like he’s just remembered something. 

“Your mates,” he says, and Calum swallows. His mates. 

“Yeah,” he says. “Uh- yeah. I might-” he cuts himself off, but Liam gets it, and nods. 

“Want me to come over with you?” he says, and Calum hesitates. No, because I’m not sure I can handle the guilt of being around you and Michael at the same time is thrown up at him by his mind, but his heart says yes, please. I’m scared. I need you there. 

“Can you refrain from calling them all cunts for five minutes?” Calum says, because he can’t say please, and Liam grins, a sparkle in his eyes. 

“Guess we’ll find out,” he says cheerily, and skirts around the edge of the table, making a beeline for the table Blur are gathered around on the other side of the room, lingering and laughing at something Michael’s saying with big, grand hand gestures. He can feel Noel’s eyes on the two of them as he jogs to catch up with Liam, who strides like a fucking maniac despite the fact Calum’s got a good three or four inches on him, but he doesn’t say or do anything. That’s almost more dangerous, though, Calum thinks, because Noel never forgets, just files the information away to act upon later. He doesn’t have time to worry about it, though, because the speed with which Liam’s powering towards the table means they’re there before Calum’s really realised they’ve crossed the room, the band and the other assorted people that Calum doesn’t know blinking at them curiously. Well, blinking at Liam curiously, Calum thinks, stomach bottoming out. They all know about him and Michael talking again, don’t they? Do they know that Liam doesn’t know? Do Calum’s fucking rivals know how Calum’s betraying his own best friend? 

“Who’re you?” Liam says to Luke and Ashton, ever the fucking diplomat. “Cal says you’re his mates from Sydney.” The two of them blink at Liam, clearly not entirely sure what to make of him or the situation, until Ashton clears his throat. 

“Uh, yeah,” he says, and Calum’s next exhale comes out a little shaky at the sound of his voice. It’s so fucking familiar, has the same intonation and confidence it’s always had, and the same thick Australian accent that both he and Michael have lost along the way.  

“I’m Liam,” Liam says, completely oblivious to the entire group of people staring at him like he’s absolutely insane. Well, Calum supposes, he must be used to that. Pretty much everyone stares at Liam like he’s insane, most of the time. 

“Oh,” Ashton says, and shoots Michael a look, like he’s not sure what to do. “I mean. We know.” He hesitates, and then adds: “We really like your album.” Liam grins. 

“‘Course you do,” he says breezily. “It’s fucking brilliant.” 

“We’ll see you at the party, Mike, yeah?” Damon says, and throws Michael a pointed look. Michael just shrugs, and Damon looks at the rest of the table, who all kick themselves into gear and start slowly ambling away from the table as they shrug their coats on, mumbling to each other too quietly for Calum to hear. Damon’s the last to go, tossing Liam an easy smile, a glint in his eyes.

“Nice to see you again,” he says. 

“Fuck off,” Liam says, not even bothering to look away from Ashton, and Damon’s lips just twitch in an amused smile as he catches Michael’s eye, who rolls his eyes at him and shoos him away. He goes, though, turns on his heel and jogs to catch up with Graham, who’s been loitering a few tables away, seemingly waiting for him, and Liam leans forwards, rests his elbows on the vacant seat in front of him and puts his chin in his hands. 

“Who’re you, then?” he asks again. 

“I’m Ashton,” Ashton says. 

“I’m Luke,” Luke says, and his voice is deeper than Calum remembers. 

“Right,” Liam says, and then glances at Michael. “Are you gonna fuck off, or what?” 

“Me?” Michael says. “No, I’m alright.” Liam narrows his eyes at him, and Calum watches a flash of amusement cross Michael’s face before he schools his features into something convincingly solemn again. 

“Hey, Cal,” Ashton says, before Liam has the chance to tell Michael to get to fuck, or whatever, and Calum tears his gaze away from Michael to meet Ashton’s eyes. 

“Hi,” Calum says, throat suddenly dry. He clears his throat, and tries again. “How’re you?” Ashton blinks at him. 

“Good,” he says, “we’re good, yeah.” He glances at Luke, as if to anchor himself, and it makes Calum’s heart ache, makes memories of Luke doing the same to Ashton five, six, seven years ago bubble up in his mind. 

“Michael says you’re a teacher now,” Calum says, just for something to say, wanting to cry at the awkwardness of the atmosphere. It seems to be the right thing to say, though, because it makes Ashton’s lips hitch up in a smile, something warm reaching his eyes. 

“Yeah,” Ashton says. “Yeah, I teach RE.” Calum smiles at that, and he can’t help but glance over at Michael, thinking about their conversation a few weeks ago. Michael’s looking at him too, and their eyes lock for a split second, held together by a private memory, before Calum breaks it to look over at Ashton again. 

“Could’ve guessed that,” he says, and Ashton’s smile turns into a grin, something like relief tingeing it, like he hadn’t been quite sure how Calum was going to react to him. It emboldens Calum to add: “You and your fucking philosophy.” 

“Hey,” Ashton protests, but he’s still smiling. “Not all of us are cut out to be rockstars.” 

“Don’t sell yourself short,” Michael says, and Calum remembers. 

“Oh, hey, d’you still play drums?” he asks, and Ashton wrinkles his nose. 

“‘Course he does,” Michael says. 

“Well, y’know-” Ashton starts cagily, but Michael interrupts him with a scoff.

“Oh, shut up,” he says in exasperation, rolling his eyes, but it’s utterly fond. “He’s the fucking man of the scene in Sydney.” 

“You’re in a band?” Trust Liam to be suddenly interested. 

“I- well, I’m in a few-” 

“You’re in a few?” Liam frowns, and pauses, before asking: “Are you really fucking good, or really fucking shite?” 

“Really fucking good,” Michael puts in, and Liam shoots him a glare. 

“Did I ask you?” He doesn’t bother waiting for a response, though, just rounds on Luke, and asks, blunt as fucking anything: “D’you talk?” Luke’s eyes widen, and he looks so much like that seventeen-year-old that Calum had left behind that it makes Calum’s head spin for a moment. 

“Don’t be a cunt,” Calum tells Liam sharply, who turns enough to throw Calum a look over his shoulder. 

“Just asking a fucking question,” he says, but it’s grumpy, which means he’s going to relent. 

“Michael says you’re a pilot,” Calum says, to try and ease the tension, and Luke’s eyes flit to him. 

“Yeah,” he says. 

“That’s pretty cool,” Calum says, and Luke hesitates, and then smiles. 

“Coming from you,” he says, and Calum grins back. 

“International rockstar’s a pretty good job,” he agrees, and Luke’s smile turns into a full-blown grin too. 

“Is that what you write down on visas?” he says, and Calum snorts. 

“I don’t, but this prick does,” he says, nodding at Liam, who just smiles inanely. 

“Not gonna lie to the authorities, am I?” he says, and Luke, Ashton and Michael all laugh, and it’s real. It’s not forced, it’s not polite, it’s real and amused and warm, and Calum thinks he might have ascended to another fucking plane of existence, seeing his two best friends from Sydney, his best friend now, and his- well, whatever the fuck Michael is, all getting on, if only for a moment. 

It hurts, though, because he thinks this is what it could be. This is what I could have, if Noel and Liam weren’t such fucking cunts. 

“Right, are you done?” Liam says, straightening up again. “We’ve got drugs to take.” Michael rolls his eyes, and Luke and Ashton look a little startled, and Calum thinks oh, fucking hell, but he sighs, and steps back. 

“We’re in the UK ‘til Saturday,” Ashton says. “We, uh. It’d be nice to see you. If you have time?” Calum blinks at him. Fucking hell, he doesn’t know his own schedule; he just jumps when Noel tells him to. 

“I, uh,” he says, but Liam speaks for him. 

“Could do Friday,” he says. “If you can come to Manchester.” Ashton glances at Luke, who shrugs. 

“I mean- yeah, sure,” he says, and Liam nods, satisfied. 

“Seven at the Vic on Burnage Road,” he says. 

“Is this an open invitation?” Michael asks mildly, and Liam glares at him. 

“Not to you,” he snaps, and puts his hands in his pockets. “Right, well. Nice to meet you. Me and Calum’ve got toilet lids to be getting to know. See you Friday.” Calum just blinks, not entirely sure what’s just happened, watching as Liam slopes away. 

“Uh,” he says intelligently. “Sorry about him.” 

“He’s…” Luke trails off, and Calum can’t help but huff out a laugh. 

“Yeah, he is,” he says, but he can’t hide the fondness and pride in his voice. “I- sorry, I really should- Noel’s-” 

“No, no, don’t worry,” Ashton says. “We’ll see you on Friday.” Luke’s still watching Liam, who’s now hovering in the door and throwing Calum an impatient glance, apprehension etched on his features.

“Will he be there?” he asks.

“I- uh. Seems like it.” Which is fucking insane. 

“Right.” Luke doesn’t sound too happy about that, but Ashton throws him a stern look, and he just sighs and then smiles at Calum. “See you on Friday, then.” 

“See you,” Calum echoes, and then throws Michael a glance. “I’ll-” 

“Yeah,” Michael says quickly, so Calum won’t have to say it. “Don’t worry. I know.” He smiles, and he means it, and Calum wants to cry. He doesn’t deserve Michael. 

He turns on his heel and jogs to the door, still trying to process what the fuck’s just happened. It must be written all over his face, because Liam frowns at him when he gets to the door, and then squares himself, looking a little hostile.

“What?” Liam says defensively,. “They’re your mates, aren’t they?” 

“Well, yeah, but-” 

“And they’re not in Blur.” Calum hesitates. 

“You don’t have to,” he says, and Liam shrugs. 

“Yeah, I know,” he says easily, pushing open the door to the venue. There are no photographers outside, now, just a few wannabe groupies hanging around and a couple of cars still waiting to ferry people from the venue to their hotels or the afterparty. It’s one of those that Liam opens the door to, clambers into without holding the door open, meaning it almost shuts on Calum as he follows, just about managing to get his leg in without the door slamming on it. “But they were important to you, weren’t they?” 

“Well- I mean, yeah, but-”

“That’s that, then.” He blinks steadfastly out of the window as Calum stares at him for a moment, drunk brain trying to understand what’s going on, what Liam's doing for him, and why he's doing it.

God, he thinks, as the familiar guilt settles deep in his veins again. He doesn’t deserve Michael, and he doesn’t deserve Liam, and neither of them deserve what Calum's doing to them.

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[summoner-kentauris]

The United Fódlan-Magvel Post-Time Skip Map, Type 1

Previous Post | Next Post 

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FIGURE ONE

Figure One is simple enough, it’s just the important places in Fódlan with names on it.

FIGURE TWO

This is where it gets juicy. We’re going to go through each of these places more or less individually, so this is going to be a long post, be forewarned. Now, all of these are located roughly where they ought to be in relation to one another. Which means, in many cases there isn’t much choice behind the decision. Still, there was at least a little bit!

[Keep Reading Link Below]

North Magvel

The Black Temple

The Black Temple was placed directly on top of the ruins of Garreg Mach Monastery, as detailed in Post One. This is the site of the Holy Mausoleum, and makes a perfect one-to-one translation to the place where the Demon King Fomortiss’ body will be sealed. Likewise, Garreg Mach is located right next to the Sealed Forest, the one place in Fódlan known for, well... sealing and darkness. From the Sealed Forest will come Darkling Woods. This leads us nicely to...

Caer Pelyn

As some of you may yet be tired of hearing from me, Morva makes a wonderful Seteth. Caer Pelyn has to be near the Black Temple anyway, but there’s something terrifically poetically sad about the last Nabateans hovering around whats left of Garreg Mach.

Neleras Peak

Let’s go ahead and say that whatever disaster laid waste to Faerghus and the Alliance, it involved the javelins of light. One was sent to Garreg Mach, but, as we know, it is protected. Instead, Neleras was detonated, and left in a state of lava-y Ailell hell.

This, again, is is the only site whose location will be completely disregarded. I feel like putting it here again so you don’t have to click all around: in the lore, Mt. Neleras is supposed to be within the Darkling Woods. The Darkling Woods is centered around Caer Pelyn and the Black Temple. Now, the way I see it, you could have that forest cover all that land and still reach across the continent across two countries to where Mt. Neleras is supposed to be. You could also not do that very unpleasant thing. Just- just move it. It’s easy. Look, I’ve done it myself right here.

Melkaen Coast

It’s a coast. It’s located on a coast. Nothing special going on here.

Hamill Canyon

We’ve moved this quite a far bit. For one, a large offshoot of mountain range is no longer here in places. For two, remember that chasm Byleth fell into? Yeah, me too.

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Midwest Magvel

Renais

Renais grew from what was left of Remire Village. Much like on the original map, it is protected on the east by mountains, which also render Caer Pelyn inaccessible from Renais.

Za’ha Woods

Now, if I were to remake this map, I’d stick the Za’ha Woods in the Sealed Forest, because Zahras is too linguistically close for me to not want to line them up.

Borgo Ridge

There is actually a small ridge on the Fódlan map right in the vicinity of where Borgo RIdge needs to go. So that was a no-brainer.

Teraz Plateau

It’s a plateau. Near vaguely altitude-y places. Not much else to say here.

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West Magvel

Frelia

Frelia is located within range of the Brionac Plateau. You have no idea of deeply desperately I wanted to put it ON the Brionac Plateau. A pegasus-culture located on a giant fantasy plateau? SIgn me the fuck up. Anyway, Frelia is SUPPOSED to be on the coast, though. So, on the coast it goes. Why are there so many plateaus on this map anyhow?

Fort Rigwald

This isn’t located near anything important on the Fódlan map. The Magvel country borders are quite different, so it makes sense that new forts would have to be constructed. I’m still sad about it, though.

Border Mulan

On the Fódlan map, this location is listed as the Western Church. We will assume for this map that whatever they built was strong, and exists in some for or another in Magvel time. At any rate, this location is now Border Mulan.

Ide

North of Borgo Ridge. End of statement.

The Tower Of Valini

This is located on Lake Teutates. There already is the ruins of a tower there already so. Why the fuck not?

(Answer: because Lake Teutates sucks and I wish I could wipe it off the map with my bare hands. Indech do not interact.)

Visual aid for those of you who haven’t been forced to look at Lake Teutates for fifty thousand years and also never used the zoom in mode:

Some other interesting information about Valni/Teutates here:

Valni is Russian for waves (волны). Interestingly enough, the singular form волна is the name of a specific submarine launched ballistic missile.

The Tower of Valni is, of course, notable for having those terrifically obnoxious light beam weapons. Three House is, of course, notable for dropping actual fucking missiles on you. Missiles called javelins of light.

I’m bolding all of that because I’m very excited about it.

Port Kiris

Port Kiris is located in Magvel near the coast of the Northern Sea. I made a minor error in this map, and didn’t place Kiris far enough west. Anyway, in this map Kiris is also located at the end of a river that connects it both to Border Mulan and Frelia, which gives this town more trade power. It is a sea port and also, a river port. Hurray!

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The Bay

Serafew

Serafew could be in a range of places. We’ve placed it in the central north of the bay. It is fed by a whole lot of rivers, which would help maintain the city from a logistics point of view. I’m guessing they have a lot of fertile land from the Adlas Plains, as well.

Adlas Plains

Adlas remains at the north mouth of the bay. There is a notable lack of Adlas’s forests in Fódlan’s map; on the other hand, there aren’t really any forests displayed on the map.

Bethroen

Bethroen’s path on the Sacred Stone’s map curves oddly; here, that is replicated and also reinforced by the mountains that back Bethroen. Presumably, here the path is curved because it is a path through the mountains.

.

South Magvel

Renvall

I really wanted to put Renvall on the ruins/same place as Fort Merceus. Renvall is also located, though, at the base of a river. There is one of those slightly to the left of Merceus. Plus, as we’ll get to in a second, Grado has a pretty set location. All of that means Renvall can’t really go on Merceus. It’s honestly the most reasonable choice, given what happens to Merceus in some of the routes.

At any rate, this is generally where Renvall goes. South east of Adlas, north of the Empire. Both Grado and Adrestian.

Taizel

Taizel is probably the one I’m least happy with. That area on both to Fódlan and Magvel map is occupied. However, in Magvel, that spot is just some town, whereas in Fódlan, its the whole capital of the empire. 800 years is a long time, but to completely wipe the importance of such a well established city? I just don’t know.

Either way, the location lines up wonderfully. As an additional note, both Enbarr and Taizel have rivers to the east of them, and this is continued here.

Za’abul Marsh

It’s a marsh. It goes both near a river, and directly between Taizel and Grado. Not much interesting happening here as far as all that goes. Fódlan provides that excellent river mentioned above.

Grado

Ah, the big one of the region. Grado is near the peninsula. It’s not directly below Renval, or Jehanna Hall, but rests somewhat inbetween the two as far as longitude goes. This area on the Fódlan map has something called the Morgaine Ravine. Now, I’ve finally finished all four routes and as far as I can tell, this fucker has come up exactly zero times. Still, it’s a place notable enough to get a name on the map, and more than that, it’s got earth-splitting connotations with that ravine name. Sounds like a perfect place to stick Grado’s capital if you ask me.

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East Magvel

Jehanna Hall

I am so tired. Okay. Three left. So, Jehanna. I don’t know about you, but when I see a gigantic tasty fields-and-plains region, I think, what if desertification? Anyway the point is, Gronder et al. can’t stay delicious and green forever. Especially with everyone and their brother dedicated to fighting on it, or burning it down, or stepping all over it, etc. On this map, this area becomes the desert that Jehanna Hall sits itself right down in.

Now, if only I could figure out who Metis is...

Narube River

Now, strictly speaking, the Narube is located to the east of Jehanna Hall. Why be strict, though, when the Airmid is right there. I mean, its right. there.

Rausten Court

“Hey, wait!” you cry. “Where the hell did Neleras go?”

“Now hang on,” I say. “I feel like I ranted about this. I mean though I can definitely go again, here let me just get my-”

Okay, now Rausten Court

Rausten lies across the River, to the east of Darkling, and occupies its own space away from everything else, really. Of note here is that it’s right behind the Great Bridge. I think that’s pretty neat.

Lagdou Ruins

FINALLY! I‘VE BEEN WAITING FOR THIS ONE.

Shambhala. End statement.

Alright, not actually the end of statements. But let me just say: Shambhala got hit by missiles, not destroyed. If people can make it out of there, bits of that place are still intact. And that’s setting aside the fact that, if you look in the zoom in map, that place is a hell of a lot bigger than just the field of combat. Anyway. All that I’m saying: Shambhala real.

AND, lest we forget. The ninth floor of Lagdou is in fact lava-burn-y. Which could jsut mean lava... or the predictable and regularly desribed aftermath of the lances of light that Shambhala gets hit with in canon.

Anyway. All that I’m saying: Shambhala real.

Because of this, Lagdou has experienced a bit of a shift. It is still located next to all the proper geographical feature, it is just that the removal of Neleras means that part of the continent is a bit stretched.

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Aaannnd that’s the end of this post! Stay tuned for the next post, which is just the nice final fancy map.