#then all that's left is reiterating the same points that we already know and have talked over

[rotisseries]

it's a little funny when some of you say you're gonna leave the fandom if it takes too long to get new content because you can't just keep talking about the same thing forever, and I'm not judging, I don't completely blame you, my fixation on byler is burning out and I'll probably be lost to you all forever once I have the new zelda game in my hands, but it DOES make me wonder what you guys plan on doing when season 5 is over

[lime-bloods]

Homestuck's Gnosticism: The World / The Wheel

Everyone knows Homestuck is "a Gnostic story".

Wait, why does it feel like we've had this exact conversation before...?

AH. SO NICE OF YOU TO JOIN ME.

If you followed along with the first post in this series, you'll be familiar already with the Gnostic nature of Homestuck's central conflict between the spirit world and the flesh. And even if I say so myself, I think that post is pretty definitive; if you're ever unsure what a particular character's motivations or end goal are, the Conflict will tell you. But what's conspicuously absent from the post is any explanation of what actually happens in Homestuck. We've covered the why, but very little of the how.

I left us off on the "synonymous goals" that spring naturally from this conflict between flesh and spirit; attaining ultimate knowledge, and escaping the confines of Homestuck itself. Eagle-eyed readers probably spotted what was lying between the lines, there: the comic is called Homestuck because it's about being stuck in a house, so the ending is about escaping the house. But what does that really look like? And how did they get in that house in the first place?

Let's return very briefly to a quote I used in the previous post. "[Y]our ultimate self [...] unlike god tiers or bubble ghosts or whatever, it really IS immortal". Two assumptions naturally grow out of this fact. First, and probably most obvious: when John dies, he's not really gone. The idea of him still exists out there, somewhere, and in our minds, so he still exists. Second, though: if the idea of him is eternal, John obviously didn't start existing when he was born. So again we ask, where did he come from?

How did John get here? Where does he go? The answers to these questions are like the four sides of one hypercoin, in that Homestuck is a time loop... of a sort.

To begin to understand this, we need to reiterate what was basically "the point" of the first post: Homestuck operates on two distinct levels, a spiritual plane consisting purely of ideas, and a "literal" physical dimension. What happens on these two planes often mirrors each other, and because Homestuck itself is a work of fiction which operates in the realm of ideas, they can even intersect. But ultimately, what "literally" happens to the characters in Homestuck is not the same as the ideas the comic is expressing in its spiritual metanarrative.

The fact that a physical time loop is impossible is something Homestuck inherits from real-life physics: to put it simply, John being born can't be the physical John from the end of his timeline, because that John would be way too old to be a baby! But ideological time loops are not only something sanctioned by Paradox Space, but essential to its very being; they are where it gets its name, after all! To repeat another lynchpin quote from the comic: there is essentially nothing new in paradox space. Any idea that seems new necessarily must have just come from somewhere else.

"SbaHJ has the distinction of being the symbolic language of [Dave's] subconscious." (Homestuck: Book 3: Act 4, p. 282)

Frequently we see this expressed in the rooms representing characters' dreams, which, as discussed, sort of transcend the character's physical form and represent the broad ideas that characters are made of. Dave's dreams (pictured above) are covered with drawings of Sweet Bro and Hella Jeff, characters he seemingly invented as a child after being inspired by a drawing Terezi sent to him. But Terezi's drawing was based on Dave's own illustrations she saw later on in his timeline; so which of them truly "invented" Sweet Bro and Hella Jeff? Neither of them did; SBaHJ exists as pure subconscious ideological matter floating through Paradox Space, only sometimes being picked up by a character's conscious mind. Similarly, Gamzee tries to manipulate this subconscious realm when he uses his psychic powers to place a terrifying effigy of Jack Noir in John's dreams, as punishment for the destruction of the trolls' session. But as we know, Jack Noir only took that form because of the nightmares this doll caused! So again; neither John or Gamzee thought up the demonic clown "first". It existed in the realm of ideas before either of them ever had the chance to invent it.

These kinds of ideological loops are the bread-and-butter of jujus. We're told their origins are untraceable and that they can't be destroyed, but neither of these things is really true; these superstitions exist only to obfuscate the true rule that jujus "emerge spontaneoUsly from the void." Rather than be erased from existence, a juju can only be banished to that same void of nonexistence where disembodied ideas live, and then pulled back into the world of dreams by a prospective psychic.

With these rules established, now we can really delve into with appreciation the ideological time loop that underpins all of Homestuck. And like all good time loops, the best place to start is at the end.

ACT 7 (Are you tired of seeing it yet?)

Let's not insult anyone's intelligences here: you know and I know that Caliborn's little house juju looks like the Homestuck logo because it is Homestuck; when he wins it from Yaldabaoth, he takes control of it, and when he sucks the heroes inside, he's trapping them in the confines of his material world.

What's essential to keep in mind here, though, is that the power of a juju is the power of the idea itself. It's easiest for us to think of the word juju in Homestuck as a concrete noun, referring simply to a magical object. But the word's real-life origins, referring more abstractly to magic or enchantment, are still relevant in this fictional framework. Lil Cal isn't just "a juju", but is "FILLED WITH BAD JUJU." Magic in Homestuck has always really been about the idea that believing in something can make it real, and the purpose of all Homestuck's dealings with chucklevoodoos and jujus is to evoke the anthropological concept of the "fetish"; an item whose power comes from human beings ascribing supernatural qualities to it. Jujus are all part of the "game" the cherubs play, with all its rules and quirks; breaking an enchantment is like breaking a rule, in that it changes nothing about the real world: you've just infringed upon an idea. The juju isn't the object; the juju is the power, good or bad, ascribed to the object.

All of this is really just to say one thing: Caliborn's home juju can't trap the flesh versions of John and his friends; as we established, you can't send old John back in time to become young John. But what a juju can trap is something far more important; the ideas of John and his friends. This is why it doesn't matter if the heroes who travel back to the beginning of everything to beat Lord English while he's still a kid are the "main" timeline versions of those heroes from some point in the future, or if the Epilogues' version of events is truth and they're some "irrelevant" offshoots: because all of those characters are represented by the same idea, and that's what Caliborn puts in the box. No matter what timeline John is from, he's from Homestuck, to Homestuck he must return, and as such Homestuck is what he must be forced to escape. Refer again back to the previous post: Caliborn can't create or destroy, only take pure ideas and alchemise them down into a form he can control.

And that's why Act 7 so enigmatically features two different white home-doors (above), seemingly so interconnected yet effectually unrelated. Because Act 7 takes up the hefty role of concluding two storylines simultaneously: allowing the "real", flesh-world versions of John and his friends to escape Lord English's reality through one door, while also concluding Homestuck's metanarrative by setting the ideas of John and his friends free of their prison through another door.

So far, most of this is probably stuff you'd have either figured out on your own or at least heard from someone else already. And if we set aside such distractions as run-ins with radioactive imps and omnipotent dog-gods, the "whats" and "hows" of the heroes' story are probably the easier parts of Homestuck to figure out. What's more difficult to fully comprehend on a first pass is how Lord English himself fits into all of this.

If you've been following me for any stretch of time, you'll notice in my analysis of Homestuck I've returned to the topic of black holes frequently. I've lost track of how many versions I've published of what I call "Black Hole Theory". And I won't link to any of them here, because ultimately Black Hole Theory was a corkboard to which I could pin the evidence that would eventually, piece by piece, lead us to where we are right now:

If the home juju is a white "hole" leading out of the confines of Homestuck as a story, then black holes are the doors that lead back in. An early clue to this comes in the form of Calliope's stage in the heart of a spiral: these spirals are Calliope's visions of black holes, which she uses as "dark pocket[s]" from which "no information can escape" - a literal description of a black hole - and that stage is the very same one Caliborn stages his story on when he takes full control of Homestuck's narrative. The meaning here should be clear: Calliope creates black holes, and it's the center of these black holes where stories can take place.

But for all the evidence we need to suggest that Lord English's fall into a black hole leads to something more complex than just his destruction, we need not look further than conventional science:

In the quantum world [...] information cannot be created nor destroyed.

Lisa Zyga, on the conservation of quantum information.

This rule that "ideas" are truly immortal, and that any time an idea seems to be destroyed it must have merely been transported somewhere else, holds true even in the scientific world of black hole physics. This has been played with in MS Paint Adventures before; theoretical physicist Stephen Hawking's take on black holes was that some stuff could in fact escape a black hole, contrary to Calliope's assertions, in the form of Hawking radiation. But Hussie's own version of the story was always a lot more to the point: something gets sucked into the center of a black hole, it gets shot out somewhere else. In hypothetical physics this is called a white hole - no doubt you can see where this is going.

So Lord English's final moments in Homestuck see him not destroyed, or killed, or defeated in combat in any traditional way, but sucked right back into Homestuck. What exactly does that mean?

Homestuck, p. 8105

As long as we're talking the power of ideas and symbols, possibly the most blatant a symbol can get is in the form of a gesture; and the thumbs-down is possibly one of the most ancient gestures there is. Dave gets one, Tavros gets one, and, so they say, even the Roman gladiators got them. This precedent makes the meaning of the gesture clear: "you're going down." And it makes sense, too, that Hussie, the "good author", would signal the "evil author's" demise in such a way. But some might question the effectiveness of the power of gesture at such a pivotal point in the comic. Are we really to believe that English's defeat was, even in part, the result of another author merely willing him away like a tyrant doing away with an entertainer who has fallen out of favour? Or did the Hussie-character actually have some kind of plan to deal with his Hulk-like alter ego?

Of course he did.

...now Caliborn has hijacked the property of his experiential continuum which he has reason to believe is called "the narrative". Little does he know you recently made the shrewd decision to purchase(?) the ACT 6 ACT 6 SUPERCARTRIDGE EXPANSION PACK! Just plug it into any in-universe console port to unlock a variety of exciting new gameplay features and proceed through remaining canon unfettered, while Caliborn muddles through six new sub-sub-acts of infantile "subversive parody" targeting the very tale he inhabits, none the wiser!

To allow our heroes the chance escape their narrative prison, English isn't just to be trapped in their old cell; it's to be trapped within an infinitely-recursing cell, not just reliving one story over and over again but forced to live out infinitely many different stories. Not just a narrative loop; a narrative spiral. That's what being sucked into the black hole means for Lord English.

When Roxy - the Hero of Void whose very symbol is that of the black hole - banishes Caliborn-as-Cal into the void, he becomes one of the very wandering ideas with which English plays like dolls. "Instances of [Doc Scratch] have spawned in countless universes", and they have "never once failed to complete [their] objective": whether he wants to or not, Lord English will always be born again. In a new universe, perhaps, maybe even in a different shape, but his role always the same. Caliborn thinks that by filling the supercartridge with special stardust and corrupting the story, he's won, but looking at the bigger picture the truth is clear: he's only playing by somebody else's rules.

Just as Skaia uses lotus "seeds" to store items away for later use, and employs meteors as "Seeds" to send important elements back in time to set up the beginnings of new stories, so too are English's cue ball "seeds" only a means of transporting his essence from one place to the other; the black hole and the Rapture are, after all, only Skaia and the Reckoning sized up to a truly macrocosmic scale. The cue ball is able to be a font of endless knowledge because it is the "white hole" at the other end of the black hole! No information can escape a black hole, and therefore there is no information that escapes Scratch's attention -- he is limited only by his "pockets of void", which exist only to, in time, be filled, as more and more falls into these black holes like a multiversal game of billiards. Not only is this a transparent allusion to one of the most fundamental representations of the paradoxical time loop as a concept, but it is also the ultimate insult to injury: despite having lived an infinite number of lives, and being cursed to live out an infinite number more, Lord English cannot know what his fate will be until he literally falls into it. This is what forces him to lose, over and over again for eternity, while our heroes triumphantly escape Homestuck onto greener pastures.

[luvhughes43]

tornado warning | nico hischier x reader

summary: every summer nico comes back home to Switzerland and resumes his fling with yn even though she knows it’s not good for her.

lyrics: "don't understand how quickly we get right back in our rhythm without missing a step, and logically the last thing i should have on my mind but i want you there sometimes"

"i guess maybe thats why im lying to my therapist, i keep saying things like "i never saw him and we never kissed"

word count: 1.1k

you and nico were kind of a thing before he moved to the us for hockey. it was the average high school relationship, hand holding and late night talks on the phone. it was never supposed to be how it is now. you weren’t together, but every time off-season hit, Nico was back in Switzerland and you were suddenly calling out for him and he was there, every single time. 

Don't understand how quickly we get

Right back in our rhythm without missing a step

And logically, the last thing I should have on my mind

But I want you there sometimes

he had just gotten back in the country less than 24 hours ago, and your mind was already reeling with how quick everything was already going. he was in your bed shirtless, arms slung around your waist as soft music played in the background. you could feel the rise and fall of his chest against your side, and you could feel his soft hair against your fingertips as you let them brush across his scalp.

“Ni?” you whispered, unsure if he had already fallen asleep.

“Yes?” he replied groggily, not bothering to move so he could look up at you.

you debated on asking him what the two of you were, what you were even doing. you knew that when he inevitably left you again at the end of the summer you would be a wreck, and despite yours, your friends, and your therapists advice, you couldn’t quit Nico. 

I guess maybe that's why 

I'm lying to my therapist

I keep saying things like 

"I never saw him and we never kissed"

your lovely therapist knew all about your relationship with Nico. It was a topic that came up regularly during your hour-long sessions. 

“I just don’t know what i’m going to do about this, like… we always fall back into how things were, and i just don’t know if i can do it anymore,” you went over your dilemma for what seemed like the hundredth time. your therapist nodded her head slowly as she listened to you once again reiterate your issues. 

she set her pen down against her notepad before looking into your eyes, “be honest, have you seen him since he came back?” she questioned and you tried to still your fidgeting. 

“No, i never saw him. I’ve just heard from friends who’ve seen him around,” you lied smoothly, shifting a little on the couch you were sitting on. If your therapist knew you had kissed him too… multiple times… you knew what she’d say. she wants you to move on but how can you when Nicos at your doorstep and is asking for you? you just can’t seem able to get over him.

I think he's onto me every time I say

"I'm over that son of a bitch"

“I am so over him,” you slur to your friends who all give each other side glances. you’ve been telling them the same thing for years, and it seemed like Nico had a sixth sense when it came to you trying to get over him. Every time you declared you were over him, he was calling or doing something to pull you right back in.

“yn honey, why don’t you-” your friend started but you eagerly cut her off.

“no like seriously this time, how dare he come back to me! like he thinks he can just come back into my life every damn time!” you practically shouted, getting up off the couch to really make your point clear. You pointed in the directions of each of your friends and continued, “next time he calls, guys i swear just take my phone and block him because i am never, and i mean never! talking to him again!” you slurred your words and your friends just nodded at your new attempt to rid yourself of Nico.

not even a minute later he was calling your phone, your ringtone blaring through the material of your jeans as you urgently fished it out. “yn who is it?” one of your friends asked as she moved to stand next to you. 

a goofy smile took over your face once you saw Nicos contact. The rest of your friends didn't even need to peek at your phone to know who was calling. “i’m just going to answer it,” you giggled a bit, pulling away from your small group of friends.

“yn no! you just said you were never going to talk to him again!” your friend jumped off the couch and rushed over to you, trying to grab your phone out of your hand before you accepted the call. 

she was too late. you shielded your phone from her and quickly accepted, smiling into the phone once you heard Nicos voice on the other end of the call.

“Ni!” you giggled into the call, all of your previous sentiments ignored the second you heard his voice asking for you to come over. all of your friends watched you walk out the door and into his car, all of them groaning when you two drove off.

I'll drive you home

You drive me crazy

But that's not gonna stop me

I'll call you out

You call me "baby"

it was nico’s last night in switzerland before he was catching a flight back to jersey. you were driving him home after a late night at your apartment, not having the urge to turn him away when he called saying he wanted to properly tell you goodbye.

“you drive me crazy, Ni” you sighed, watching him unbuckle himself out of your passenger side. 

“what are you talking about baby?” he asked, seemingly unaware of the effect his words had on you. 

“I’m not your baby” you admitted softly, turning around so you can face him full on. his brow furrowed at your words. you desperately wanted to say something to him, bring up your feelings or how conflicted you were about this whole relationship-that-wasn’t. but you guys were never the ones to sit and chat about all your feelings, so you let it all go. 

“I’m sorry, i think i’m just tired” you tried laughing it off but it sounded a little strained. 

“well we had a busy night,” Nico laughed as you felt your face heat up, turning around so he could face you properly too.

you smiled at him, painfully aware that this was the last time you’d be seeing him in months. you felt the lump grow in your throat, and you painfully swallowed it back as Nico reached for the door handle. 

Nico opened the door. he halfway outside before he seemingly realized something and leaned back inside, kissing you softly on the lips over the middle of your console. 

he pulled away too soon, and then you sat watching him walk away. The lump in your throat getting more painful with every step he took. you had no idea how you were going to get him out of your mind this time.

[myokk]

before it felt like a sin, ch. 3

ch.1, ch.2

pairing: Sebastian Sallow x f!MC

word count: 2300

summary: Eloise never wanted to be different.

And yet, her differences are what have defined her life up until this point: growing up as a squib in one of the most prominent wizarding families, being exiled to muggle society, and then attending Hogwarts at the age of sixteen.

She finds herself thrust into the life she should have been prepared for from birth but was denied. As she navigates this new life and her new precarious position in her family, she must come to terms with the fact that maybe what she dreamed of her whole life isn't turning out how she ever expected it would.

a/n: this is how I wish the duel could have gone in the game...😇🙏

I also want to reiterate that this fic is REALLY CANON DIVERGENT!!!!! I will NOT be following the game’s plot at all really with this (it really starts to diverge around chapter 6/7 maybe I don’t remember), and I don’t see Eloise as the game’s MC either.

Eloise was being woken up altogether too soon for her tastes. Something soft was hit her face, and she sat up groggily, pushing it away. She blinked as she looked around, not recognizing her surroundings. It was disorienting not knowing where she was, although, as she rubbed her eyes, it was slowly starting to come back to her…Something happened yesterday, she thought. I…

“Come on, sleepyhead!” exclaimed Imelda, throwing more clothes on top of Eloise. “The house elves left these last night at the foot of your bed while we were sleeping. If you don’t hurry up, there won’t be any more food left for breakfast. And, you know that the first day of classes is the most important…”

As she continued rambling on, Eloise got up and started putting on her school robes. A dark grey tartan skirt with dark green and silver stripes, a cream button-up with puffy sleeves that she tucked into the skirt, a black ribbon to tie around her neck, and her Slytherin robes on top. She didn’t know how to feel about the day that was ahead of her; she felt a strange mixture of elation and apprehension.

“…you’re taking too long. I’ll wait for you in the common room,” Imelda concluded, giving Eloise one last look before striding out of their dormitory. All of the other girls had already gotten ready and left for the morning, which wasn’t really a surprise to Eloise. As soon as her head hit the pillow the second time, she had fallen into a deep sleep and hadn’t heard the bustle of the girls preparing themselves for the day.

She finished lacing up her boots, and after one last glance in the mirror to make sure nothing was out of place, headed out to find Imelda.

When Eloise walked into the atrium, she was struck by how different it felt in the morning. It was truly as beautiful now as it had been eerily peaceful the night before. Once again, light piano music playing in the background - Eloise smiled to herself, recognizing the Gymnopédies by Satie. Her piano lessons had been the only bearable classes at the muggle school, and she had excelled at the instrument, often practicing during her free time.

The piano music blended in with the murmurs of students standing or sitting in small groups around various tables filled with breakfast foods and scrolls of parchment. The greens and blues coming through the windows felt refreshing, and the whole room was glimmering under the reflections of the water playing across various surfaces. She could see plants swaying under the water, with schools of fish weaving between them. It felt…magical.

Eloise’s eyes were drawn to Ominis and she started walking to him, standing by the same window where they had been sitting earlier. Instead of being in shadow, however, he was now illuminated by the rays of sun shining through the water. He was smirking to himself as he listened to the two first-years next to him. As she got closer to them, Eloise heard them speculating about the possibility that they would get to see a mermaid.

“Oh! I think I just saw one!” one shouted at his friend, pointing out the window. “Oh, wait…it was just algae.”

Eloise walked up to Ominis, smiling despite herself. 

“Is this your idea of a good time?” she asked him, while he was simultaneously asking her how she had slept. They both paused as soon as they heard the other start talking, and then both started speaking at the same time after an awkward pause.

“Oh…I’m sorry. I…I slept well,” Eloise said, blushing. “And you?”

“As well as I ever do,” he replied. She noticed that the dark circles under his eyes were still very prominent, although they didn’t look eerie in the morning light. He indicated the first-years with a jerk of his head, changing the topic. “I doubt mermaids find us that interesting. I rather think they purposefully avoid our common room so as to not be treated like creatures in an aquarium.”

Eloise laughed at that and tilted her head playfully. “And just where did those two even get the idea that they might see a mermaid?”

“That, my dear, is a mystery. I surely have never seen one before,” Ominis said, standing up straight and taking his wand out. “I have been hearing a lot of chatter about you this morning, you know. It seems like reality has been mixed with fantasy in the tales of your journey here, and nobody knows the full truth.”

“Except for you,” Eloise pointed out, stepping into place next to him as they walked through the common room. She spotted Imelda, supervising some students playing chess and instructing them on the moves they should be doing. Imelda looked up and saw Eloise, and interrupted her own advice mid sentence.

“Eloise!!” Imelda bellowed as she practically ran across the room. Was this girl ever not purposeful in everything she did? The students around them looked up from what they were doing to watch her, and maybe get the chance to hear a first-hand account of what actually happened to Eloise. “Why didn’t you tell me that you were attacked by a dragon last night?”

“Oh, er…” Eloise couldn’t figure out how to respond to the other girl. Imelda didn’t seem worried or scared about what Eloise had gone through the previous day; rather, she seemed indignant that she hadn’t been told about the attack. Beside them, Ominis was laughing.

“It must have been terribly exciting,” Imelda went on, ignoring any response Eloise may have started giving. “A real dragon and all. I wish I was with you guys, I’ve actually prepared for what I would do in that very situation. I would definitely have diverted its attention away from you on my broomstick, and actually the best strategy would have been to…”

“I doubt you really would have been able to do anything,” Eloise interrupted. “It was terribly frightening, but at the same time the whole thing was over so quickly that I haven’t had time to process it yet.”

“Well, you can tell me about it on the way to breakfast. Maybe once you learn how to ride a broom, we can practice what to do together. You have first-hand experience, after all!” Imelda looped her arm through Eloise’s. She shot a look to Ominis. “I hope you don’t mind, but I’m taking her now. We have a long day ahead of us, lots to do you know. The usual. Anyway, Sebastian’s coming over so it’s not like I’m leaving you completely alone.”

Before Eloise could even react, she was being marched up the spiral staircase that led out of the Slytherin common room and they were off to breakfast.

“Duelists, take your mark,” Professor Hecat said to the two students standing on top of the platform in the middle of the room. The duelists in question looked at each other warily, steadying their wands. Eloise was exhilarated. This was the type of class she had been daydreaming about while she sat wasting her time embroidering landscapes.

Professor Hecat hadn’t wasted any time putting the students to work. Although at first, many of them had scoffed at the thought of Leviosa being a useful spell in combat, Eloise listened attentively and focused on the correct wand movements. Maybe it didn’t actually matter, but she was determined to make sure that nobody would think that she didn’t deserve to be there. She had a lot of catching up to do, but between the books Professor Fig had given her and the knowledge she retained from reading from her family’s library as a child, she already knew a lot. She was quite pleased when the feather levitated as soon as she said the incantation, as there were other students who struggled to get theirs to even twitch in an upward direction.

Now, Eloise gripped her wand tightly in her hand, shifting a bit as she stared Sebastian in the eyes. He had said that she would get ‘a proper Hogwarts welcome’ and she was looking forward to it.

If the rumors she had heard before class were true, Sebastian was the best duelist in their year, and quite possibly at Hogwarts. Although she felt a little apprehensive at the thought of facing him, she hoped that he wouldn’t hold back on her just because she was new. Even if she had fought the guardians yesterday in Gringotts, she wanted to prove to herself that she could keep her wits about her in the heat of battle. 

Maybe her stance was a little too stiff, her movements too by the book. But that could only be changed with experience.

Sebastian smirked slightly to himself, no doubt thinking that this would be an easy victory. In the background, Eloise heard Professor Hecat say they could begin, but she was more focused on her opponent’s face. As soon as she saw him raise his wand and begin to open his mouth, she shouted “Protego!” and the shield blocked the spell he attempted to send shooting her way. His eyebrows raised in surprise - apparently he hadn’t been expecting her fast reflexes.

Quick as a whip, she shouted out “Levioso” and Sebastian was in the air. She hit him with a few more curses before he fell to the ground, breathing heavily. He pushed himself up quickly and went back into position. Wand out, now more wary of her capabilities. He blocked her next attack and went in for one of his own, which hit her shoulder. Eloise hissed in pain and immediately shot out a volley of quick jabs in his direction, a few hitting their mark before he put up a shield.

Sebastian was grinning as they circled each other, looking for an opening. The rest of the class surrounded the platform they were on, cheering them on. Both continued to attack and put up shields, without any clear winner in sight. It was obvious that they were very evenly matched.

“I’m pleasantly surprised,” he said as they were catching their breath between attacks. “I haven’t had a fight this good in a long time.”

Eloise just grinned in response, before shooting off another spell in his direction. It was expertly blocked with a flick of Sebastian’s wrist; in response he volleyed off a jinx towards her.

Eloise crumpled to the ground, yelping as she grabbed her ankle. Sebastian was immediately at her side, crouching down and looking at her with concern.

“Eloise? Are you okay?” He looked down at her ankle and then abruptly looked up and back at her face, a faint pink redness dusting his cheeks. He may have been dueling her, but it was distinctly different to be so close to her like this.

In response, Eloise grinned mischievously and quickly levitated him off the ground, getting to her feet at the same time. With a few quick curses sent his way, soon Sebastian was lying sprawled on the ground outside of the little arena Professor Hecat had erected.

“Not fair,” Sebastian exclaimed, rushing to his feet. He looked at Professor Hecat, who was looking between the two with a pleased smile.

Eloise smirked at him, only responding with, “Slytherin.”

Sebastian laughed and ran his fingers through his hair, making his brown curls even unrulier than they had become in their duel. He held his hand out to her and she shook it formally. “Good duel. You can definitely hold your own and I won’t underestimate you again.”

Professor Hecat clapped her hands together to get the attention of the class. “I hope you all paid attention to these two. Ten points to Slytherin for an excellent demonstration of what we learned today. On Wednesday, we will continue with practical application of the techniques learned during this class. I expect to see flawless wand work and concentration. I demand excellence from my students as I know you are all capable of achieving it. Class dismissed.”

As Eloise was gathering up her things, Sebastian sidled up to her. “Really, that was quite impressive. You seemed stiff at first, but it would seem you have fought before. You definitely give as good as you get.”

Eloise blushed and tucked some strands of hair that had come undone behind her ear. “Well, really, I had only read about the techniques before. Haven’t really had much time to put all of that theory to use yet.” She smiled shyly ad Sebastian, who was looking at her with his jaw open. “You fight really well, too. I had to use all of my focus. It’s kind of exhausting, actually.”

“But exhilarating, right?” Sebastian asked eagerly. The two of them started to head out of the classroom together, dwindling behind the rest of the students. Entirely absorbed by their conversation. “Everything else goes out of focus and the only thing in the world is you and your opponent.”

“Yes! Exactly that,” exclaimed Eloise. “I’ve never experienced anything like it.”

“Well,” Sebastian said slowly, dragging the word out as he thought. “You know, there might be a way. To continue. I normally would never do this, but…you know…”

“Know what?” Eloise prompted as Sebastian trailed off.

“You’re a really good duelist. Intuitive. There’s a certain exclusive club of sorts, one that may or may not be unsanctioned, where you can continue to hone your dueling abilities.”

“Exclusive and unsanctioned?” Eloise asked with a smirk. “You can count me in.”

“Excellent,” Sebastian replied, smiling broadly. “Sometimes, to make the most out of your experience at Hogwarts, you need to bend certain rules. They’re more like guidelines, anyway.”

“Merlin, Sebastian,” said Imelda, walking up to them and crossing her arms. “Don’t let yourself fall into any of his schemes. That boy is in detention practically every other day.”

“Or maybe,” Eloise said, “he’s just not good enough at avoiding getting caught. I, on the other hand… Come on, Imelda. Let’s go to lunch.”

She laughed as they walked away, leaving behind a dumbstruck Sebastian. He shook his head in disbelief and headed off to his next class.

next chapter

[aliusfrater]

almost all s8 opinions regarding sam make me want to tear my hair out but what do you make of the takes that we can't really blame sam for s8, mainly not looking for dean/quitting hunting because it was "out of character"?

not just the you know who shippers who say this either btw I've seen so-called sam stans say the same

the evidence to this claim always seems to be that jared supposedly didn't like it either (which may very well be true idk the source) but I have to wonder if jared only said that or something similar because fan reactions to s8 sam began affecting him too

quite simply, i just don't agree with or enjoy interpretations that genuinely and earnestly refer to it as sam 'not looking for dean' in any context that's intended to be from sam's point of view because that's very much what dean considers it to be because he knows that he wasn't dead in the soul-had-left-his-body sense and he considers sam's adherence to his own perceived death as abandonment which is the major culprit of his own, sam's as well as the narrative's perpetuation of the idea that sam 'didn't look for him'. like this exact idea from sam's own pov is touched on in the first episode of season eight when sam is at his most confident in his independence away from his and dean's relationship:

then based on bobby's reaction to sam's own recount of dean's death to bobby in 8.19, it does seem evident to me that sam neglects to retell his own pov and he tells bobby that dean was in the same purgatory they were currently in, which is why bobby reacts with disbelief (because if you knew where he was, why didn't you attempt to save him?) and why sam's response is to bring up the previous 'agreement' he and dean had about death.

i have my own qualms about bobby's disillusionment re: the agreement as a 'non-agreement' and that he 'taught [sam] that' based on the actual events of 6.01 and the fact that bobby does indeed leave dean out of hunting at sam's will and the only plausible point at which it could have become a non-agreement is during the 6.11 and 6.12 conflict that is regaining sam's soul (without sam's consent, twice fold, but i consider soulless!sam to be more of a direct victim of being resouled than i do sam because of his active agency against it. sam's agency was preceded in his dying wishes and are therefore passive). bobby's reaction does, however, add to the already narratively skewed perspective of sam's decision where there is already that prioritisation of dean's 'didn't look for me' on account of the fact that bobby's own role as patriarch does narratively match dean's, along with bobby's position as a character who is narratively third to sam and dean's relationship (which then then bleeds into both sam's and the fandom's own interpretation of it, i think; sam also begins to doubt his decisions more which is also related to how the trials turn into his own suicidal ideation).

the conflict regarding which brother takes on the trials is very much foundational within sam's own view of a light at the end of the tunnel and his desire to leave the life and dean, at multiple points, within conversation about why he should be the one to do the trials, reiterates sam's own desire for normalcy away from hunting, within what dean himself desires for sam's life, which bring us back to the root of the issue that is dean's fear of abandonment (8.03, 8.14).

sam's own desire or attempt to leave the life seems to be fundamentally Wrong or is at least disproved of until dean approves of it/whenever it's part of dean's ideal for sam. 8.01, "so… free will, that's only for you?" the greatest sin is to disobey your patriarch; i think the culprit here re: sam's own person, just like it was with season four and the beginnings of soulless!sam, seems to be sam's rejection of the dynamics of his and dean's codependency in favour of his own attempt at independence. there's also the idea that dean would rather complete the trials that have a possibility of death than have sam go through the trials, die, then 'leave' dean to face the idea of living a life without sam—and he attempts to make this decision by on his own, without sam's input.

generally, i don't believe sam needs any excuse(s) to live a life outside of dean but the narrative's own facilitation of sam back into the non-role (the struggle to fit into the role) of his and dean's relationship, the dichotomy of monstrosity, the cycle of abuse, the patriarchal structure etc. etc. after his attempts at independence are endlessly interesting to me and although this isn't yelled at you through explicit exploration, i do consider aspects of sam's history with mental health to be relevant within several aspects of season eight, but mostly being related to sam's decision to leave hunting specifically within the context of the year between seasons seven and eight (especially after all that is seasons three to seven) as it's explored in 8.08. ultimately though, i think the major aspects of sam's decision to leave revolve around 1) grief and sam's avoidance of his grief, which is pretty well represented by his initial reluctance to name riot and explored through sam and amelia as mirroring characters (how blatant it is pisses me off a little),

and 2) the very basic building block regarding sam as a character that is his desire to leave the life. quite generally, i think the fact that through dean's own conflation of family and hunting (on account of john's own pov that through choosing college over hunting, sam had also chosen college over family) as well as dean's own pov prioritised through his and sam's relationship along with the previously mentioned structures, the idea that sam, too, is therefore unable to leave the life or subvert any of these structures without it being perceived as leaving dean or forsaking family is pretty neglected within a lot of interpretations of sam as a character. i think dean very much keeps sam tethered to the life either through sam's own ability to choose dean and their conflated lifestyle over something/someone else (later season one, season two, three, later nine to fifteen) (there's also the guilt tripping) or as a result of being preoccupied in a way that inhibits his idea of normalcy (his monstrosity in seasons four and five), but on account of the dynamics and his and dean's relationship, sam is unable to reject their codependency which perpetuates hunting and SamAndDean as existing synonymously. i mean, even when sam was hunting without dean as soulless!sam, on account of the agency and autonomy sam was able to achieve due to the differences between s!sam and sam's priorities due to the difference between then (the soul lol), s!sam's rejection of his and dean's relationship did become evidence for his monstrosity. which is, of course, punishable by (possible) death should dean decide that the dichotomy will not stretch to accommodate said monstrosity.

season eight, to me, is when these characters first start feeling a bit like cardboard, especially due to how wittled down to its core sam and dean's dynamic is represented. this is the most boring and basic version of How They Work at this point in the show and even then people explain their simple and cardboard-ish behaviours away with explanations like saying they're 'ooc'. sam's state of mind is pretty straight forward if you know where to look; sam taking his entire family's death as his sign that he's able to leave the life is not out of character to me at all. kill the supernatural appointed patriarch in your head.

[batsplat]

wait, is there a dovi/jorge feud???? i didn't know this!! also thank you so much for all you do for this community ❤️

not the only ask I've gotten about this and... look, rather than doing a proper write up that would take forever, I'm just gonna give my top ten fun... facts? bits of trivia. tidbits related to the two of them. quite long tidbits, on second glance. the highlight reel, if you will

(1) that time andrea dovizioso made 14 year old jorge lorenzo cry

the two of them already raced each other before the start of their grand prix careers, competing for the first time in 2001 in the cev when dovi was around 15 and jorge around 14. in riveras tobia's biography, here's jorge talking about their first fight:

I led the way at the start and Dovizioso and I escaped. It was our first head-to-head encounter, the first time we raced each other. My dad had heard that Dovi was a really clever rider and he warned me before the race. But just like in 1998 at Jerez, with Olive, I acted like a dummy and pushed for the whole race. I kept looking behind me to see the bastard still there! It was impossible to shake him off, he was watching me the whole race until the last lap. Three comers from the end I could hear his engine getting closer and I saw his shadow to my left, but he didn't come past. I thought to myself "This guy is going to try something in a second!" I decided I had to on a tighter line and close the door. Sure enough, Dovi went wider through that comer and then dived up the inside. I didn't close the door in time and tried to get in his slipstream, desperately hoping I could get him the next corner, but I ran wide and he won. I came back in tears, I didn't even want to go to the podium, I felt so cheated. I'd been on the limit for the whole race and I felt like I deserved the win more than he did.

so that's a nice and positive start! there's something charming about how even fifteen year old dovi was an absolute menace on last laps

also about that race:

'Jorge beat Dovi in Braga but in the previous race at Most, what a tantrum!' recalls Juanito, laughing. 'He didn't even want to go to the podium, he was crying like a baby! I can still see Dani (Antatriain) talking to him, trying to convince him. In the end he went but he didn't want to look at anybody.'

(2) the photo finish

in 2004, they were rivals in 125cc - a year in which dovi claimed the title and jorge was p4 in the standings. in the very first grand prix ever at the lusail circuit (pretty eventful weekend, you have to say), jorge and dovi crossed the line at the exact same moment

(3) dovi's top three favourite career win

dovi and jorge progressed through the categories at the exact same rate, and after their 125cc rivalry they continued fighting in 250cc. they were title rivals in both 2006 and 2007, with jorge's aprilia winning out both times against dovi's underpowered honda. (the general pattern was that dovi clawed back a bunch of points from jorge in the wet - jorge, with perhaps the exception of a few years in the premier class until around 2013, has never been much of a wet weather racers, while it's always been one of dovi's strongest traits.) for dovi's 300th career start in 2019, he was asked what his top three wins were - and one of his picks was from way back when in 2007

I'd recommend the race! which... well, I did in the race rec post - and I can only reiterate that these two kids do not acknowledge each other, not good vibes at all

(4) jorge's thoughts on young dovi from 2008

Jorge has a lot of respect for Andrea Dovizioso and feels that his two 250cc world titles have even more prestige because he had to beat the Italian to win them. 'You wouldn't label Dovizioso as fast, particularly, but he's much faster than he looks. He doesn't set many pole positions but he is always up front in a race, fighting to win. He is very intelligent and you can't trust him an inch on the last lap. He has been faithful to Honda, he has great belief in them. His negative side is that he tends to play the victim too much. He'll say that if his bike had a better engine or if it was a bit faster he would win. He's even said that if he was on the same bike as me he'd give me a hiding. I think he looks for excuses too often sometimes, but as a rider and a person I don't have a bad word to say about him.'

some dovi traits read as very familiar, from how he's a better racer than qualifier to the intelligence to the last lap prowess. as for jorge saying dovi plays victim too much? well

also this:

ER: Don't you think that Dovizioso wanted to be World Champion too in 2006 and 2007? Don't you think he gave everything to achieve it? JL: He will think he gave his maximum but he will be lying to himself because nobody does that. Nobody gets close to their maximum, not even me. He will think that he didn't win because he was riding a Honda. There are very few sportsmen who will say, I deserve what happened to me and there are no excuses. I didn't know how to do any better and I've done things wrong.' That is the only way to be the best, the only way. People who make excuses don't get to the top. I know riders who haven't made it for just that reason.

plus ça change

(5) jorge's thoughts on young dovi from 2018

when they were doing their thing as ducati teammates (bickering), here is one of the things jorge said about dovi:

dovi's been trying to undermine jorge's morale his WHOLE career... even when they were but teenagers... love it when you can really tell someone's been sitting on something for over a decade

(6) "also lorenzo is not my friend"

both of them moved up to motogp in 2008, jorge with factory yamaha and dovi with satellite honda. dovi had a very strong rookie season and finished in p5, only sixteen points behind jorge in p4 (who after a promising first few races had spent a lot of time that season crashing). after that, their fortunes diverged. dovi did not have a particularly happy time in the factory honda team and needed to do some shrewd negotiating to be retained by them for 2011 in that three-man squad, while jorge of course won the championship in 2010

here's a deep cut from 2011, a season where much of the excitement and drama was caused by marco simoncelli alone. jorge had exchanged tense words with sic in estoril, one race before simoncelli was responsible for a crash where dani broke his collarbone. the crash and sic's subsequent penalty meant that the three-way fight between jorge, dovi and valentino became one for the podium, with dovi and valentino eventually grabbing the two remaining spots behind casey. but during the race, jorge had executed a... questionable manoeuvre on dovi, one that did have some similarities to the sic/dani incident. given jorge's strong previous comments on racing standards, unsurprisingly the journalists pounced on this incident in the post-race presser and ask the podium sitters about it. here is the clip:

in this clip, dovi essentially says it was a dangerous move from jorge, but he wasn't sure what jorge's intent had been and he needs to watch the footage again. valentino (who had been the most outspokenly critical of sic of the three of them earlier in the presser) takes the opportunity presented to him to have a bit of a potshot at jorge. he says that dovi doesn't have the best relationship with sic but jorge had done something pretty similar in the race... at which point dovi goes "also lorenzo is not my friend"

which, you know. not exactly a major incident, but I find it very charming dovi felt the need to clarify that, actually, he doesn't like either of them. valentino also adds that by jorge's own standards, surely he too should have gotten a penalty. not exactly a meeting of jorge's biggest fans hm

(7) mapping eight-gate

well I can't leave it out, can I

so in 2017 jorge switches from yamaha to ducati and does not have a great time of it. a lot of weekends, he's just too slow, other times he shoots to the front of a race at the start (typically not great news for the rest of the field in his yamaha days) and then chews up his tyres before gradually dropping like a stone back through the field. at some point that year it became a bit of a running gag - especially when you saw he was the only big name to be picking a soft tyre and just went... buddy we ALL know how this is gonna end....

while this was happening, his teammate dovi was for the first time in his premier class career in championship contention. an extremely close title fight throughout the year with five protagonists until pretty late in the season, it eventually went to a title decider in valencia between dovi and marc. you know, the kind of year where every point counts. the race where marc put a bit of daylight between himself and dovi was phillip island, with marc winning a great dogfight out front while dovi had a bit of a horror show of a weekend. this meant that a lot would have to go right for dovi to have a chance of still winning the title... and sepang was already a match point race for marc

ducati had not won a championship since their 2007 title, courtesy of one casey stoner. after that year, their bike became steadily less competitive every season, reaching a nadir around the 2011-13-ish period. so by the time 2017 rolled around, they wanted this so so badly - even if they wouldn't have expected dovi to lead the charge. dovi had only narrowly beaten out iannone in the 'who's going to be fired for our shiny new lorenzo hire' contest of 2016, and really it was supposed to be jorge who was carrying ducati's dreams on his shoulders. but, never mind, they were throwing everything behind dovi now... no stone left unturned

which brings us, of course, to the subject of team orders. this discourse really took off at the penultimate race of the season at sepang, but was already brewing before that - and in phillip island, satellite ducati rider redding had been told early in the race to let dovi past

here from marc at sepang:

dovi had been in great form all weekend at sepang - and with his wet weather prowess being what it was, really there shouldn't have been any need for team orders at all. but he got a sluggish start, and the race unfolded from there... until eventually jorge was in first, dovi was in second and marc in fourth. in those positions, marc would have clinched the title there

and then, jorge got a message on his dashboard. suggested mapping: mapping 8. pit boards and dashboards and all sorts of boards will feature various codes during races, most of them completely innocuous - but of course they are a healthy source of all sorts of conspiracies. the timing of this one was certainly... notable, and speculation immediately started about how it might be a way of telling jorge that he should swap positions with dovi

jorge didn't end up letting dovi pass - it is questionable whether he really would have done so with what would have been his first ducati win on the line. in the end, he made a mistake that let dovi through so that dovi claimed the win anyway, keeping himself in mathematical contention in valencia. and jorge did say afterwards he was keeping dovi's title hopes in mind, kind of

jorge also said he hadn't gotten any message indicating team orders, and of course nobody at ducati confirmed that mapping eight did have anything to do with team orders

for what it's worth, this is what dovi said about their relationship at this stage:

lovely! let's see what the vibes are like a few months later

anyway, onto valencia. this race was pretty boring despite being a title decider, but the jorge/dovi bits were just unequivocally the weekend's most enjoyable aspect and rather nicely spiced up the whole thing. dovi's chances were always slim going in, given he'd have to win the race and marc would have to barely get any points at all... but still, you never know, right? marc could always crash (narrator: he did almost crash). jorge plays coy early in the weekend about the whole 'helping dovi out thing', and basically just started putting in place...? ... very specific conditions...? under which he'd help:

so during the actual race, dovi got stuck behind jorge in p5, with marc ahead of both of them. valencia is traditionally not a fantastic track to overtake at... so even if dovi had been faster, it's not like he'd have an easy time clearing jorge and cracking on. but they were beginning to drift further away from dani in p3 as ducati watched on, increasingly unamused by what was happening - and the tv cameras were of course kind enough to repeatedly show the ducati box looking deeply unamused. again, they went for the good old mapping eight message, which, hey, that could mean anything! they sure did keep showing it to jorge though, almost like he wasn't paying attention to it

eventually, they abandon all subtlety and go for a pit board message that does just straight-up tell jorge to swap positions. jorge kept ignoring the messages, lap after lap, and he never ended up letting dovi past. eventually they both crashed and marc claimed the title with a p3 finish, so it wouldn't have mattered anyway, but... still. the feeling was that this might things rather awkward inside of ducati

publicly, ducati was extremely keen to smooth over the whole controversy, saying they totally weren't mad at jorge blatantly ignoring team orders. jorge had, after all, explained to them (and the media, repeatedly) that he had totally been intending to help dovi by dragging him closer to dani

Giving his take on events, Lorenzo acknowledged that he ignored Ducati’s instruction because he felt Dovizioso’s chances would be boosted by having him directly ahead. “Even looking at this [dashboard] suggestion, I keep pushing until the end, because I knew it was the best thing for me, for Ducati and for Dovi,” said Lorenzo. “I helped him to improve his pace by one or two tenths, to be as close as possible to the first group. My intention was, and it was the case, that we arrive at the first group. If he had the option to win, I would have gone wide and let him pass. But unfortunately it was not like that. Maybe in some corners Dovi was close and I slow down a little bit his pace, but in general terms, having my wheel in front of him made him improve slightly his pace. I helped him stayed closer to the front group. “I knew Dovi was struggling, I knew his pace during all the weekend, and I knew he was making the best pace of the weekend just in the race. It was [because of the] help from my wheel. I’m happy because I was not wrong. If I was wrong and slowing him, I would be very sorry. But it’s not like that, my feeling was true.”

which, you know. is it really that easy to tell how much faster you are than someone who's sitting on your rear tyre? who's to say. dovi did certainly seem rather keen to get past

anyhow, of course there were plenty of fun dramatics post-race:

'our rider ignored team suggestions not team orders' is a great line, fairs. there's plenty more of this from ducati, some excellent spin doctoring - and dovi was extremely magnanimous about what had happened:

the whole thing was pretty undignified from all non-dovi parties, but it was also very funny so who's to say if it was bad or not

(8) runner-up-gate

let's check in on them in 2018, the second and ultimately last year in which they were teammates. remember that 'undermining morale' quote from above? those are from early 2018, after dovi says he wouldn't be surprised to see jorge elsewhere the following season. so, once jorge has complained that dovi had been trying to put him down his entire career, comes this:

so that's something. jorge, dovi and dani have a three-in-one crash in jerez, after which some fingers are pointed but it all remains fairly civil, and a bit later dovi says that jorge's approach doesn't work at ducati:

by the summer break, jorge's results had gotten better, but it was already too late to save the relationship with ducati and they parted ways. anyway, here's dovi and jorge having another go at it:

And while a rough patch for Dovizioso coupled with breakthrough back-to-back wins for Lorenzo in Mugello and Barcelona have now left the pair just three points apart in the standings, Dovizioso refused to back down from his claim when speaking to Spanish sports daily Marca ahead of the upcoming Brno race. “He’s won two races,” Dovizioso said. “Winning two races does not solve the problem of a year and a half. Lorenzo was not signed to win two races. Therefore I do not change my mind.” When the comments were put to Lorenzo, the three-time champion offered an ardent retort, stating that Dovizioso's rhetoric was proof of the claim he'd made back in April. “I'm a bit fed up with this situation, mainly because when I had trouble and he was winning, I was down there applauding,” Lorenzo told Spanish broadcaster Movistar. “What I said in Argentina - and the comments caused a big surprise - you can see that I was right. “He tried to undermine me, or downplay what I achieve or just attack me. As you can see, I wasn't lying. He's still doing it and now he says my method is not good, according to him.” Lorenzo intimated that Dovizioso was in no position to criticise him, as the Italian could do no better than runner-up to Marc Marquez in a 'perfect' 2017 season. He said: “I think my method has not worked too bad in my career. I've won three MotoGP titles and have 46 wins.” “In my second year in Ducati I'm usually faster than him, but maybe I should look at his method closer if in his best season, with everything going perfectly, he was second. Otherwise he's fourth or seventh usually. I'd tell him to leave me to go my way and to focus on his own and everything will be better, because when you have an angry Lorenzo it's usually worse for you.” 

fair to say that by this point the pretence at civility has mostly been dropped. I'm rather fond of the "lorenzo was not signed to win two races" line, though "when you have an angry lorenzo it's usually worse for you" is also really strong stuff. dovi tries to restore a little bit of peace:

Responding in turn to Lorenzo's tirade, Dovizioso sought to play down the conflict. “Jorge has his ideas and I think they are based on particular things. I don't think like him, but it's not a problem,” he told Movistar. “Everybody creates their own ideas based on what they see and how they live. “I don't think he has everything clear in his head about what's happened, but we continue the relationship that we started last year with respect, there's no particular problem. If he thinks this way, that's his problem."

so basically the classic 'idk what he's on about but it's not my problem' approach to attempting to defuse feuds

(9) twitter-gate

there's a few more on-track battles where it's nicely obvious how badly they want to beat each other, with jorge beating marc just ahead of dovi in austria and then dovi beating jorge in brno. jorge's season is increasingly derailed by injuries, which sets the stage for their next big spat:

The row was sparked by Dovizioso's comments to Sky Italia after qualifying at Sepang on Saturday, as he was asked what he thought of Lorenzo having to pull out of the Malaysian GP weekend with injury. "I don't know the details, I don't want to get into this, it's a bit of a strange situation," said Dovizioso."It happens often in Ducati or to certain riders, but I don't understand the details and I don't want to get into it and give my opinion." When it was put to him he was offering 'cryptic words', he added: "I leave things there, it's not my problem."

pretty vague, yeah. but anyway, I'm sure jorge had a proportionate response to this

Dovizioso's comments prompted a series of irate posts from Lorenzo on Twitter, with his first reaction being "Thank you very much @AndreaDovizioso! You are a real gentleman!". In his next post, he went on to call Dovizioso "an exemplary teammate", adding: "You applaud him under the podium when he wins and then... (That's right, he does not give his opinion, it's not his problem)." After that, Lorenzo labelled Dovizioso "envious" and described him as "a world champion... in 125cc."

the podium thing really bothered him, don't you think. their ducati in-fighting follows that general pattern where dovi says something... a little shady, a little ambiguous, where his intentions aren't entirely obvious... at which point jorge goes all in at fighting back and has a go at dovi - often not as much for what dovi is actually saying, but what jorge thinks dovi is implying. which is based on his understanding of dovi, the image of dovi he's built up in his head over the years, so that he is... predisposed to think ill of the intentions of the 'intelligent' dovi who always knows exactly what he's saying

again, dovi tried to downplay the argument, while simultaneously not exhibiting much patience for jorge's stance:

After the Malaysian GP, Dovizioso was asked about Lorenzo's responses to his comments, and the Italian accused his teammate of reading too much into headlines. He said: “Why should I talk to Lorenzo? I do not waste time on these things. He makes the usual mistake of giving too much importance to what is written, even without the context. "I have not pointed my finger at anyone and I have no problem with Jorge."

if I were ducati, I probably would've let the whole thing blow over given jorge was off soon anyway. but they decided the whole thing was so bad they had to organise a peace summit

Asked about the situation, Ducati sporting director Paolo Ciabatti admitted to Motorsport.com that the Bologna marque has already planned to sit its two riders on Tuesday in Milan to make it clear what its priorities are. Ciabatti said: “It is clear that the interests of Ducati come before personal problems between riders. On Tuesday we will be together in Milan, for the EICMA [motorcycle show] and we have in mind to spend half an hour to sit and talk to Jorge and Andrea. "We want to avoid similar things to what happened last weekend. "I understand that these kinds of situations can happen. Sometimes riders get nervous during a Grand Prix weekend and on a rainy day, with tricky conditions, sometimes they say things they shouldn’t have said."

god knows how that turned out

(10) wow, you guys aren't gonna let this go, huh

late 2020 and jorge's career is already over, while dovi's looks like it will be... paused, at the very least. which is always a good time to check in with riders on how they feel about their rivals - if they're still being nasty you know that shit was personal. from december:

some quality petty material here. "I can't understand his somewhat peculiar mind" vs "he was envious of me since 250cc, but I wanted to give our relationship a chance". note too jorge talking again about how generous he had been in the face of dovi's 2017 successes, and how he feels like this was not reciprocated at all. jorge's complaints don't stop there:

merry christmas!

not the only rider jorge has beefed with post-retirement, but compare and contrast with how he really hasn't been doing any of that with some of his biggest career rivals. valentino, marc, dani - sure, he still talks about the controversies he's had with them pretty regularly (to put it lightly), and he's hardly free of complaints... but mostly it's a distinctly nostalgic tone he's adopting with these guys. admittedly, it helps that none of those three have gone out of their way to say anything particularly inflammatory about jorge. still, the absolute lack of any sort of rapprochement with dovi of all people is pretty funny

bonus: that time when jorge skittled all of marc's rivals

you know how in catalunya 2019, jorge took out like? all of marc's major rivals in that era including himself in one go? with half a decade of hindsight, this was kind of hilarious, and it did also feature jorge having to eat a hell of a lot of humble pie and go to the three other blokes to apologise. anyway I have a lovingly assembled set of screenshots of all three of them emoting in their boxes after the incident, all suffering some form of an existential crisis. here is dovi contemplating the bleak realities of our brief lives on this planet:

truly one of the world's least enthusiastic waves

bonus 2: another one for old time's sake

already posted this elsewhere, but this from late 2023 made me laugh

"jorge came to ducati and thought he was going to beat everything, but in the end he didn't" uh huh

[woodchipp]

Thank you for spelling out your character development, Aubrey! You really needed to because you didn't actually have it in the first place, but the game needs to pretend as if you did!

"I felt like everyone abandoned me... and abandoned MARI too..."

I'd like to note the way Aubrey phrases this line. Mari is tacked on at the end of the sentence as if she's an afterthought.

Considering how self-centered Aubrey has shown herself to be over the course of the game, it reads more as "Everyone abandoned me, goddammit! oh and there's that dead girl too ig"

It's very subtle and intricate writing when your characters rant about their foibles to the audience as if they're standing in a confessional.

"After SUNNY stopped coming to school..."

Which he did on a whim, apparently. Nowhere in the game is it stated or implied he was homeschooled or granted some special exemption.

Also... the writer... totally... isn't... overusing... ellipses...

"I just wanted to go through the photos, because... well... I guess I just wanted to see everyone happy again."

It always circles back to Aubrey and what she wants. It didn't occur to her to leave Basil's things alone since going through the album might bring up some painful memories for him. No, all that mattered is that she wanted to "see everyone happy again," even if that makes those same people miserable now.

Aubrey is an asshole.

"All of our memories together..."

Because the giant "BASIL'S MEMORIES" on the album's cover wasn't convincing enough for her, apparently.

I have already touched on this in other posts, but for the purposes of this one, I have to reiterate.

1) Aubrey's immediate reaction to a perceived slight was to basically disown her close friend of God knows how many years (even though she had no reason to blame him, nor did she let him explain himself) and make a conscious choice to start harassing him. Because that's what strong friendship is, isn't it?

2) She conveniently doesn't specify other "things like that" she called Basil, which implies she might have called him something way worse than "creep"

As you should.

You won't get to do anything about that, though, because the story is going to shift its focus to Sunny in a few minutes anyway.

Peak writing!

And now she's turned on the waterworks because the game's running short on time allotted to her "character arc", so we need to pity her as fast as possible.

I find it funny how the fact Aubrey nearly killed Basil back at their old hangout spot the day prior is not directly brought up or addressed by her at any point of her rant. Her sudden breakdown would have made more sense if it came after her admitting how guilty she actually feels about the accident because she crossed a line or something like that. Nothing of the sort happens, and all we ever get is a vague "What I've been doing is worse than what BASIL did"

BULLYING PEOPLE IS NOT A "MISTAKE". IT IS A DELIBERATE DECISION YOU MAKE.

FUCK YOU.

(also, Sunny taking a few steps back instead of trying to comfort his friend like Hero and Kel speaks more of his character than the game ever could)

"I'm going to acknowledge I'm a shitty friend, but you're not going to see me develop! What do you take me for? An important character?"

"sorry I didn't put my life on hold to keep you all from turning on each other because I'm this group's singular braincell, apparently :<"

Yes, they don't deserve an asshole like you as a friend.

Sunny and Aubrey are both friends no one deserves, actually. One is so unreliable he walked out on his bestie when said bestie was at his most vulnerable and the other harassed her friend for four years just because she assumed he wronged her

Hero's argument to convince Aubrey she does care about her friends after all omits the fact she stole one of her friends' property and then bullied said friend because of it.

Love that no one gives a shit about Basil in this game.

And you couldn't say this while you were talking to her in the church on Three Days Left because...?

>>"We should all be here for each other!" >>Sunny is due to move town the next day

fucking lmao

And that's it! Aubrey's redemption is official!

Except it literally took a single poorly-written rant. And a hug.

Because that's peak writing.

143/10 once-in-a-lifetime masterpiece would absolutely kill my sister because I couldn't watch the TV for as long as I want again

[werewolf-cl4ws]

Sonsally Week 2024: Day 1 - Age

I'm sure it's the 31st still somewhere in the world, so I'm not late.

I'm still kinda struggling on the creative side of things, but I already missed out on last year's Sonsally week and I wanted to at least give some prompts a go on their days. Plus I miss thinking about my blorbos.

Once again taking place in my AU, fast forwarding to the Timeskip era.

It was an all hands on deck sort of day in New Knothole for the Freedom Fighters. The night before Antoine – who had been on guard duty – had spotted a group of mobians running through border of the Great Meadow, heading out towards its distant lands with a pack of SWATbots on their tails.

Once the alert was raised the Freedom Fighters had made short work of the SWATbots and had taken the group of five in. Though because of how late it was the best they could do at that moment was give the group a place to settle in and collect themselves, as they were understandably rattled by their close escape and were unsure of their rescuers.

Everyone in the Freedom Fighters were doing their part to accommodate as they were more than familiar with how to work with refugees, so it was a well versed process for them.

Which meant that Sally should have remembered that Sonic probably wasn’t the best mobian to be left alone with the unofficial “leader” of the group, as she was swiftly reminded of when she happened to walk by the two “discussing” a matter quite loudly between them.

“You can’t order us around, these mobians are my responsibility!” the unofficial leader – a male boar – snapped at Sonic.

“I ain’t orderin’ you around, I’m just tellin’ ya wha’ your options are here,” Sonic clarified, and Sally had to give him some credit here, he did look like he was actually trying to be polite. She wondered how long it was going to last.

“We’re fine, we don’t need you telling us what to do,” the boar growled, flashing his teeth at Sonic, and Sally couldn’t help the wince when she spotted Sonic’s own jaws flex to do the same. Amazingly he didn’t, but she could see him clicking his teeth subtly instead, recognising his frustrated quirks.

“You didn’t look fine while those ‘bots were chasin’ ya down. If it weren’t for us you wouldn’t be standin’ here bein’ a pain in my tail,” Sonic pointed out. “All I’m tellin’ ya is one o’ your crew needed medical attention ‘nd I was helpin’ her get some.”

“She’s fine, we’re fine. Just mind your own business!” the boar snapped.

“Oh boy,” Sally muttered to herself as she started speed-walking towards the two, knowing what was coming next.

“Mindin’ my own business woulda meant you bein’ caught by those ‘bots ‘nd me gettin’ a full night’s sleep not even knowin’ you existed, pal!” Sonic snarled before Sally could even get a warning shout out, making her wince harder and move faster towards the two. “But too bad for you you’re in our village now ‘nd we actually want to help your ungrateful ass.”

“Okay, everyone relax!” Sally called before the boar could retaliate, pushing herself between the two mobians and forcing them to take a step back from one another. “Sir, we’re just tryin’ to make sure everyone is all right.”

“And I’m telling both of you everyone’s fine, we don’t need any help,” the boar reiterated.

“That girl has a massive cut right across her forehead, that’s not fine,” Sonic explained, giving Sally a somewhat pledging look.

That would explain why Sonic was getting so riled up about the argument. But why the boar was being so stubborn about it Sally didn’t know, and she doubted that she would as with every argument Sonic presented, the boar just seemed to dig his heels deeper into the ground over it.

“You don’t know what you’re talking about, it’s just a scratch,” the boar stated. “Just leave us alone.”

Sonic made to snap something back, but barely stopped when Sally raised her hand and gave him a stern look. A small growl still bubbled through him, which made the boar jump slightly at the sound.

“How about you go back to your team and check in on her yourself?” Sally offered. “Go make sure everyone is all right, and take some time to settle in some more. I’ll give you an hour before I come check in on you.”

“We don’t need to settle in and we don’t need anyone checking in on us. Just leave us alone already,” the boar fumed, before turning sharply on his heel and walking away.

“Yeah see if we help ya again, pal!” Sonic snarled after him, earning a back-handed smack to his chest from Sally.

“What happened?” Sally demanded.

“How should I know?” Sonic shrugged, shooting another dirty look after the boar. “When I dropped off some supplies to ‘em I saw one o’ the girls had a nasty gash ‘nd offered to walk her to Booker’s. But then Loud-Mouth McGee over there swooped in ‘nd told her to go back to their hut so he could start arguin’ wit’ me.”

“That’s all?” Sally asked.

“I swear that’s it. He was actin’ like I was tellin’ her to jump off a cliff,” Sonic huffed. “Why are adults always so stupid about listenin’ to us?”

Sally blinked at his last statement, before she turned to look at the still retreating boar just as he disappeared into their temporary hut. The boar did look a little older than them, but not by much as far as she could tell. Probably a couple of years older at best. But she also remembered what their earlier years in Knothole was like – back when it was just the Freedom Fighters and Rosie living in the village, every time any refugees were brought in they would instantly try to take over the village, not realising that the children had been living there for quite some time and had established a structured way of living there. The adults would only listen to Rosie, not realising that she was acting on the children’s systems that she had helped refine.

It wasn’t that they wanted to be in charge per se, but Sally had to admit that whenever older mobians did try to take charge of the village they didn’t seem to have any idea of how to do it. They only worked off the belief that just because they were older, they should be in charge. It had to take an embarrassingly long amount of time and being one upped by a child to humble the adults into listening, and as the children grew older and became Freedom Fighters the adults of the village realised how the pecking order actually worked.

Sonic was usually the one that had to do most of the one upping, and was stubborn enough to fight the adults until they submitted, despite Rosie’s own protests. Sally had long known that Sonic never had any faith in any of the adults, save for his own uncle, and Rosie, though even with Rosie it took a long time for him to warm up to her despite her being their nanny before the coup. It was almost comical how much Sonic mistrusted adults and anyone that tried to boast themselves as a true authority when they were anything but capable of being one.

But hearing Sonic still voicing such an opinion now, she had to look up to him and just give him a blank stare. One that took the hedgehog a while to notice because he was still death glaring after the boar.

“Wha’?” Sonic asked.

Sally blinked again, wanting to give Sonic a moment to try to realise what he had just said. But when a few moments passed with him just frowning at her while he tapped his foot impatiently, Sally pressed her lips into a fine line, hoping her next set of words wasn’t going to cause another fight.

“Sonic... you’re also the adult here,” Sally pointed out.

Sonic’s expression didn’t change, making Sally wonder if he had heard her. She was about to repeat herself when Sonic’s foot stilled and his frown deepened suddenly.

“Why are you tryin’ to ruin my day, Sal?” Sonic asked.

“I’m not,” Sally said, but her lips quirked with mirth that she could just barely contain. “I’m just pointing out that you are an adult now.”

“That is the most insultin’ thin’ anyone can call me,” Sonic huffed, crossing his arms over his chest. “Take that back.”

“I can’t if it’s fact.”

“Look, just ‘cause we were forced to grow up way faster doesn’t mean I’m an adult,” Sonic waved off, and Sally sighed.

“Do you actually know how old you are? Really?” Sally asked.

“My sense o’ time is messed up, you know that,” Sonic said, his ears twisting back stubbornly. “So I don’t need exact numbers here.”

“I think you do,” Sally argued. “Look, you were 17 when you went missing--"

“Don’t use that tone o’ maths at me,” Sonic cut in.

“--and you were gone for four years--" Sally continued.

“The forest is right there I will just go,” Sonic threatened.

“--and you’ve been back for nearly a year. So that makes you twenty--"

“Bye.”

Sonic had only taken a few steps before Sally intercepted him, though he attempted to side-step her as he loudly protested about not wanting to hear any more maths from her, which earned a few confused glances from the other villagers as they passed the two.

“It’s not a bad thing to be older!” Sally protested back as she matched Sonic’s side-step.

“Yeah but I don’t wanna hear about it! Just lemme live my life here, Sal!” Sonic explained, giving a short growl when Sally got in his way again.

“We’re the same age though, it’s no big deal,” Sally added.

“You’re welcome to be old. ‘nd let’s face it; you’ve been an adult since you were five so it doesn’t really count for you,” Sonic pointed out. He attempted another side-step only to have Sally block his path once more, and he clicked his teeth at her. “I will run you over.”

“No you won’t, you actually like me,” Sally stated.

“I’m startin’ to question that.”

“Uh-huh.”

The last intercepted side-step had Sonic throwing his hands up in the air with a frustrated sigh that ended in a growl, which made some of the nearby villagers scatter. He rolled his eyes at the display, before he looked down at Sally, his foot tapping rapidly again.

“Can I go now? I ain’t dealin’ wit’ that jerk no more ‘nd I ain’t gonna stand here bein’ insulted either. I got better things to do,” Sonic asked.

“I just want to make sure you actually know you’re older here. I mean I know you won’t act your age anyway because that’s never going to happen, but I just need to know you understand the concept here,” Sally explained.

“I don’t wanna think about that! Who wants to think about that?” Sonic exclaimed. “You already ruined my day by tellin’ me it starts wit’ a two, I don’t have time for an existential crisis today.”

“You say that like you haven’t had one already today,” Sally sighed.

“Which is why I don’t have time for it,” Sonic said. “Look, I get it. We ain’t kids no more. But I don’t want to think about it in exacts, y’know?”

“Even if it means we actually reached adulthood despite everything we’ve been through?” Sally asked.

Sonic paused, his lips pressing into a thin line as his next protest died in his mouth. He still tried to think of something, anything really that would steer the conversation anywhere else, but his mind still stalled at that reality.

The coup had happened when they were five, and for a few years it was only them and Rosie fighting against every odd to survive in their own pocket of Mobius that Robotnik hadn’t been able to take over, despite how far and wide his reach was on the rest of the planet. When they had decided to start fighting back they were around twelve, though Sonic himself had been doing his own improv missions since he was ten, which that in itself was a miracle he had survived. As resilient as they were, they were inexperienced kids that had no one guiding them on how to fight, create strategies or even just live day to day in their new world.

The fact that they had survived this long against so many odds was something that should be celebrated, Sonic agreed. But it still made his brain turn itself inside out at how many years it has been.

“Can we agree to disagree on this one?” Sonic chanced eventually. “I ain’t sayin’ it’s a bad thin’ ‘cause we really nailed th’ whole stayin’ alive thin’. I just--"

“Don’t like feeling old, even though you aren’t really,” Sally sighed, rolling her eyes teasingly. “Fine. It’s not like I could ever get you to act your age anyway.”

“You say that like it ain’t part o’ my charm,” Sonic teased, grinning as Sally rolled her eyes again at him.

“Whatever.”

“Excuse me?”

Both mobians blinked as a young female badger approached them, and as Sally looked her over she spotted a gash on her forehead that she couldn’t help but wince at mentally. This must have been the girl Sonic was talking about before, and Sally kicked herself for not knowing about the injury sooner as it did look quite nasty.

“My friend went for a walk, but I wanted to go with you to the doctor before he got back,” the badger explained. “I’m sorry he’s being so weird, I don’t know what’s gotten into him.”

“Well, sometimes people just want to figure stuff out on their own, y’know?” Sonic shrugged. “He’ll get there, maybe.”

“How very mature and grown up of you to say, Sonic,” Sally cheered, smirking as Sonic stuck his tongue out at her. “We’ll walk you to Bookshire together.”

[heyidkyay]

Just wondering if you would ever consider writing a Matty fic where he falls in love with a fan in the audience of a show? Maybe he writes songs about it all? It’s very cliche but man does it pull on my heart strings, the Cinderella of it all. Getting swept up into his life like that would be so romantic.

Tag along |

Part one

Strayed a little but it’s still very much fluff filled, maybe not what you’d first expect? Idk, that sounds strange but I hope you enjoy it anyway! Thank you for the prompt!<3

Part Two

--

It was official. 

After days of relentless pleading and having been so blatantly coerced into it by my mum and younger sister, I’d finally relented and given in to attending the concert. And I sort of hated myself for it. Strange, I know, but now I had no choice but to see some fuck-off band- I’d never even heard of- with my teenage sister and her best mate, who were practically mad about them. 

I mean, I love the girls, I truly do. With all my heart. But having to spend an entire evening with them, surrounded by a thousand other screaming fans, just wasn’t something I was looking too forward to.

And who could honestly blame me? 

You see, it had all begun earlier that same week. I’d been on my lunch break, grateful to have just a minute to myself, when my mum had called. We’d gone through the motions, happy to catch up; she told me the gossip whirling round back home (next door were back to rowing again and Tracey in the post office had fallen pregnant for the seventh time); she’d asked after me, like she always did, questioned if I was eating enough, sleeping alright, if I’d met anyone new…

My mum and I had always been pretty close. She’d had me young, I was her first baby- something she never failed to remind me of- and we’d sort of grown up together. Seeing as how my father (nickname: The Sperm-Doner- yes, the caps were necessary) had gone and fallen into all kinds of shit and ultimately decided to fuck off when things had gotten too real. She was my rock, the one person I could count on to defend my corner, and always believed in everything I ever set my mind to.

It had been hard on the both of us when I’d left home, especially seeing as I was now a couple dozen cities away. But life continued on and we adapted, I went back to visit as much as I possibly could, and called whenever I had the time. Even though in moments when all I really needed was a good hug from her, it was easy to remember what I was doing this all for, and that my family was only a train journey away. They were a constant, even if they lived a couple hundred miles from me.

So she had phoned, I’d immediately noticed the stress which underlined her tone and I’d asked what was up. She’d danced around the topic as much as she could- she hated asking for things, ‘that’s my job,’ she liked to reiterate whenever something occurred and I tried to help out. But I’d dragged it out of her in the end. And oh how I now wished that I’d just left it.

Because here I was, stood in the freezing cold, outside of the O2 arena, in a line full of a couple hundred other excited fans who were all waiting eagerly for the gates to open. 

The two girls were squirming beside me, so ecstatic you’d have thought that I’d gone and laced their drinks with something other than sugar, jumping all about the place whilst they squealed to one another in such a high pitched tone that anyone else would’ve believed that they were conversing in another language all together. 

It was amusing to a point, because I could honestly recall the same euphoric high I’d felt when I’d finally gotten tickets to an Arctic Monkeys gig almost a decade ago now. 

Internally I winced as the memory drifted to the forefront of my mind, feeling far too old for my twenty-three years.

But I could also admit that I was honestly in a tad bit of a mood, had been for the last half hour or so, because I truly fucking hated the cold. And right now? It was baltic and I was freezing my tits off. 

I’d already buried my face into the opening of the leather jacket I’d thrown on that morning and wrapped my arms around my torso to enclose some of my remaining heat, but it was of little use. I was still shivering away with a frown.

I’d gotten a couple of lingering looks whilst here, something I’d noticed but could’ve cared less about. It was far too cold to be stood about waiting in any sort of line, so they could all excuse me for not being overly delighted with the whole ordeal.

I sighed and peered down at my phone screen, glancing at the time, then double checked my pockets for the tickets I’d been handed on arrival and told to guard with my life. 

It was probably the twentieth time I’d done so, because who in their right mind would give me, of all people, something important to look after? I was the least irresponsible person I knew when it came to being organised. 

Because listen, I could get anywhere on time, I was insanely good at that- a job interview, an airport, a school play… But nine times out of ten, I’d almost always forget the one thing I’d needed most. My resume, everybody’s passports, the wig I’d worn one halloween and promised to my younger brother so that he could complete his costume in time for his class assembly…

Yeah, so I was a bit of a mess. But who wasn’t?

Albeit saying that, I had ultimately been the one to score these tickets. My mum and step-dad had gifted them to my younger sister as an early Christmas present after she’d literally begged for months on end during the lead up to the drop of the presale.

It had just been the three of us, all sat down in the family living room, back home up north, earlier this year. We’d counted down the minutes, a dozen devices in hand and at the ready, and it had been something short of a miracle, in all truth. 

The website had crashed a couple times, my step-dad’s phone had died, and then my laptop had quickly followed. The dog had knocked over a freshly made brew and almost pissed itself. And then the postman had scared the absolute life out of us when he’d knocked on the front door. 

So to say that we had all breathed in sudden relief when I’d loudly announced that I’d managed it, was a MASSIVE understatement.

Note. The worst part to seeing your favourite band live; Ticketmaster.

Even the thought of doing it again had me riddled with anxiety. I shivered involuntary, whether it was from the mere idea of it, or the cold, I’d never know.

But being stood here now, I was cursing myself for having been the one to officially bag the stupid things. I sighed inwardly, if only I wasn’t such a brilliant, caring and amazing older sister. But it was a hard life, I supposed. 

“I’m so excited!” My sister, Rosie, squealed, drawing me from my thoughts. She’d gripped onto Tea’s arm in her sudden bout of elation, and the two shared a maddening grin. The other girl didn’t seem to mind the tight grip her best friend held, and so I figured it was probably down to the anticipation of it all- or the fact that it was still so bloody cold.

The thing about Rosie and Tea was, they had been as thick as thieves for as long as I could remember. There’d never been one without the other, and so it was sweet to see the pair looking so forward to something like this, something which they both shared such an obvious love for. 

“I know!” Tea breathed dramatically, looking a little flushed, “I want to meet them so bad, it actually hurts.”

I fought the urge to roll my eyes at the pair, in good fun of course, because they were both so adorably obsessed. 

Oh, to be a teen again. 

“You two are really looking forward to this,” I commented with a light chuckle, watching on as the two girls danced around happily in the small section we’d claimed. “I just don’t get it.”

Once those words had left my lips, I instantly regretted it. Having been met with the deathly glare of two teenage girls was not something I’d offer up to just anyone. 

“Are you serious?” My sister outrightly demanded, staring up at me with a face of utter bewilderment. Scarily, she looked a lot like our mum in that moment. “They’re The 1975, Y/n. They’re- incredible! You must have heard at least one of their songs!”

Tea nodded her head alongside Rosie, bobbing up and down in agreement.

I simply shrugged at the pair of them, finding amusement in their infatuation. “Can’t say that I have, Ro.”

“But, Y/n/n, you love bands! Music in general- I’d bet my whole vinyl collection that you’ll love them too!” Rosie stressed, she then smiled brightly up at me when I merely quirked a brow in retort. I dug my hands deeper into my pockets.

“I like bands, yeah. Band’s like The Stone Roses, The Kooks, Joy Division… The type that make music for music’s sake, you know? Not the kind that strive to get on the top ten, babe.”

I shook my head fondly at the two. 

This band they were so enamoured by were probably just as decent as they claimed, and I could admit that simply because, well, they’d have to be to have all these crazy fans gathered in one place. But they just weren’t my cup of tea.

Ooh, talking of tea, I was proper gagging for one. I’d yet to have my daily fix, and after having been rudely rushed out of my flat early this morning, I’d been unable to stop off at any sort of coffee shop on the way over in fear of losing a spot in line.

The two teens rolled their eyes at me, and my forehead pinched when my sister pulled out a pair of headphones and all but shoved them into my ears. “Look, just listen, okay?”

I reeled back in alarm, having not expected the sudden ambush. “Christ, Ro!” I exclaimed, but the girl only huffed at me before turning to press play on her phone. She gave me a stern look. I relented.

At first, I couldn’t hear anything but the slow intro to an unfamiliar song- even with the swarm of fans gathered around me. But I continued to listen, honing in on the tempo and its melody. And as the song went on, I begun to understand why so many people enjoyed it. The lyrics, although a bit out there and entertainingly vulgar at parts, were smart and witty, they fell with the instrumental perfectly and the singer’s voice was pretty different to what I’d first expected. It made me want to really listen, to follow along, to understand the backstory.

Honestly, they weren’t half as terrible as I’d first believed. And once the outro had faded out, I actually felt a little conflicted. The song obviously had a much deeper meaning to it, but its instrumental made it so lively and energetic that I’d found myself bobbing along almost subconsciously. It was something I could see myself getting lost in, and I wondered whether or not they’d made anything more raw, or emotional.

The songwriter was definitely talented, I couldn’t deny that, they’d had gone through some shit, and I found myself longing to read deeper into their words.

“They’re sick, right?” 

The headphones being ripped out of my ears brought me back to the present and I blinked slowly at my sister’s question.

“Yeah.” I shrugged a shoulder, handing over the wire. “Yeah, they’re alright. Can sort of see why you two like them so much.”

I laughed to myself when the girls faces lit up. 

“They’re amazing! And you’ll so enjoy this show- as well as the boys! They’re proper nice deep down, like really care about us as fans and all that.” Tea encouraged, seemingly quite happy that I hadn’t just gone and shit all over her favourite band. 

“Yeah, they’re so lovely, Y/n!” Rosie added, eyes alive as she barrelled on to explain further, “There’s four of them, right? First, we have Adam, he plays the guitar mainly- blonde, tall, only one who’s started his own little family. And then there’s Ross and George-”

“Ross is on bass, long haired with a beard, whilst George plays the drums.” Tea weighed in, before Rosie was back to chattering away again.

I was honestly beginning to feel as though I was watching an extreme game of tennis with the way my attention kept batting back and forth between them.

“Tea’s obsessed with him.” Rosie felt the need to inform me, before her face immediately brightened, “Oh, and then there’s Matty of course!”

My sister was wearing one of the biggest grins I’d ever witnessed on any singular person and I snorted when Tea rolled her eyes and made a slight dig, “You can see who Ro’s claimed.”

“Hardy har.” Rosie deadpanned, jutting a light elbow into her friend’s side before she gave me a serious look, “I haven’t ‘claimed’ him. I just…”

“You just want to have his children. Yeah, I know, Rose. You never fail to not mention it.”

Rosie stuck her tongue out in retort whilst I tried to bite back my rising amusement when they continued to bicker. The two made a right pair.

“So, what’s this Matty like then?” I questioned, wanting to know a little bit more about the guy who’d caught my sister’s eye, but mainly just eager to poke a bit more fun at her. “Come on, what’s so great about him that you’ve gone and dubbed yourself a tribute to birth his prodigy spawn?”

The girls wrinkled their noses at me, Rosie’s upper lip curled in faint disgust. “Why’ve you gotta word it like that?” She scoffed, shaking her head at me.

I chuckled, shrugging a singular shoulder. “Because I live to annoy you. So, are you gonna tell me or do I have to ask about?”

I made the effort then to pretend as though I was about to disrupt the group behind us’s conversation, but the girls were quick to waylay me, jumping hastily to grab at my outstretched hand. I smirked.

“Stop it!” Rosie all but hissed, her worried eyes flicking back over towards the people beside us before falling on me again, this time they were slitted. “God, you’re so embarrassing.”

Me, embarrassing? Hah. She should be thankful that I knew when to stop. I could still vividly recall the days when my mum had attempted the same shit with me, except she’s the type to actually follow through, leaving her daughter to stand sheepishly behind her, internally cursing the day her mother had decided to forgo an abortion. Dark, yes, but I’d also been a hormonal fifteen year old girl, so sue me.

I rolled my eyes instead of voicing this though, knowing it would only go in one ear and out the other. And ultimately, my sister sighed allowing me to prompt her on further with the rise of my brows.

“Matty, he’s the frontman basically.” She said, back to talking with her hands, forgetting about the whole ordeal.

That made sense, I thought to myself, although I’d always been a drummer sort of girl. Helders, Taylor, Fleetwood, Bonham, Moretti… I could go on.

No honestly, I could, so I was just glad that Rosie chose that moment to stop me.

“He’s a proper performer, you know? Like he just belongs up there, on stage.” My sister breathed, and she wore the sweetest look of admiration on her face. “He’s got this mop of messy black curls and he’s covered in tattoos. Wears all this cool shit and he’s-”

“-also a bit of an arsehole.” Tea summarised for her, before Rosie could get too carried away. 

I blinked at my sister’s best friend in surprise, before a loud laugh bubbled out of me. 

In all the years I’d known this girl, this deceivingly sweet girl, not once- once, I stress!- had I ever heard something so shameless spill from out her mouth, and with the exasperated look she had paired with it, I couldn’t hold in my delight.

“Tea!” I exclaimed, and was so tickled to see the younger girl’s cheeks redden when she turned to give me a sheepish sort of smile. “How crass! I always thought it was Rosie who’d been the bad influence between the pair of you, but now I see quite a few secrets are coming to light tonight.”

Rosie snorted in reply, “She’s done worse. Trust me.”

Tea swatted at my sister’s arm upon hearing that, widening her eyes in a silent warning.

“Oh, come off it.” Rosie waved away with a roll of her eyes. “It’s just Y/n.”

I decided to leave off of the teasing, feeling a bit bad for embarrassing the younger girl. “Yeah, I’m just messing, lovie.” I told Tea with a soft smile as I draped an arm over her shoulders to draw her in for a hug. “You can relax, nothing that happens tonight will be getting back to your mum, alright?”

“Yeah, ‘cause we all know what she’s like.” Rosie tittered under her breath and I slapped lightly at her bicep to scold her. “What?” The girl exaggerated with a high-pitched drawl, rubbing at her arm with a narrowed eyed glare that was directed towards both Tea and I. “I was just saying! And what’s with you two and smacking me about today?”

Tea giggled and I squeezed her lightly before letting go.

“Don’t talk about things that have nothing to do with you.” I told my sister simply, “Freya’s a perfectly lovely woman, just a tad…”

“Insane?” Rosie offered, at the same time Tea said, “Extreme.”

“Eccentric- was what I was going to say.” I shook my head at the duo. “Honestly, the two of you.”

The girls only laughed. 

The line started to move a little while later, slowly mind, but it was a progress I was grateful to see. 

Anything to get out of this chilly wind in truth. 

And as we waddled along, the two teens I was with continued to speak of the band, trying to catch me up on anything and everything I’d missed before the show officially started.

Not that it helped at all. I was beyond crap when it came to things like that- recalling anything trivial- I could hardly even remember the band’s actual name and it was plastered practically everywhere around me. As well as this big box thing. 

I breathed out a loud sigh of relief when I realised that we were up next, and when we were signalled over towards the gates by one of the arenas guards I could see just how nervous Rosie and Tea had grown, giddy but mostly eager to just get inside. I couldn’t help the fond smile which limned my lips then, happy to see them so excited.

“You three.” A large man, branded in a security uniform, called, jerking his head over at us. I heard the girls take a deep breath as we approached and I quietly chuckled at them. “Tickets?” He stated. 

Oh shit, yeah. The tickets.

“Tickets…” I murmured quietly to myself, patting down my pockets to find them, “Tickets, tickets, tickets…”

I could feel the apprehension radiating off of my younger sister as I continued to riffle around for the poxy things, and so I flashed the bloke a wry smile before I started to unload the contents of my jacket pockets into both Rosie and Tea’s hands...

Gum, house keys, a stray tampon. Pack of haribo (because you never knew when you’d need those), ID, bank card, phone, charger. A few spare pound coins-

Oh God, that was where my Argos receipt had got to! I could finally return that shitty Nespresso machine my cousin and her fiancé had talked me into buying now.

I grinned in quiet victory whilst tucking the slip into the back pocket of my trousers.

“Y/n.” My sister stressed out in a hushed whisper, I just simply waved her off.

“They’re here somewhere. I felt them like, twenty minutes ago.” I assured her and- “Aha, told you! Three tickets, all here!”

I wore a triumphant grin when I held out the wrinkled papers towards the guard, who appeared to have been throughly amused by my prolonged charade. He took them from me to scan with a toothy smile.

“Oh cheer up, we’ll be in there in a sec.” I huffed at the girls, tucking all of my belongings back into their rightful place. Rosie didn’t look too cheerful though, but I could see that Tea’s lips had started to twitch, so I have her a conspiratorial wink in turn. Then glanced back towards the bloke, “We all good here?”

“Yeah, all good, love.” He exhaled on a faint chuckle, waving us in through the barrier without further issue. “You girls enjoy your night.”

“We will!” I promised, gifting him a gleeful smile, “You too- hope you don’t have to spend too much longer out in that cold!”

He just nodded at me, still looking rather entertained by all our antics.

“So embarrassing.” My sister felt the need to reiterate as we wondered further into the arena, practically growling.

“Oh, loosen up, would you? He was proper nice about it all. Fit too, don’t you think?” I said, glancing back over my shoulder.

But Rosie just rolled her eyes at me. Fed up, I was about to bite back at her when Tea’s unexpected gasp broke us from our little quarrel.

“Oh my god. They have the limited edition LP!”

Rosie’s eyes widened dramatically and before I knew it the two were scurrying away from me and over towards the merch stand. I sighed to myself and glanced about, hoping to see a sign that would lead me to where the bar might be.

—

We were here. In the middle of a fucking mass of people, but we’d actually done it. We’d finally managed to swindle our way near the front of standing, practically touching the barriers, even after having loaded up on snacks and drinks- mine mostly alcoholic.

The girls were buzzing. Looking all cute and excited in the outfits they’d planned months in advance, singing along to the set that was playing through the speakers to keep the crowd entertained before things begun.

And me? I was getting swept up in the atmosphere. Unable to believe that I’d almost forgotten how good it all felt. Because live music was truly unmatched.

There was just something about the heavy thud you felt in your veins, how being this close to the amps could make your chest ache in the very best way, and how’d you’d have to scream just to be heard over all the noise whilst you got lost in an avalanche of happy people. 

It really had been too long.

I was already a fair few drinks in by the time the opening act came out, and was chatting away to the couple crowded beside us. They were both a year older than me and studying down in Bournemouth. They’d bought their tickets off of a mate, who hadn’t been able to make it, on a whim when they’d had the cash to spare, and had decided to make a weekend out of it. 

We’d actually only gotten to talking when they’d almost sloshed a canned cocktail all down my back. 

I’d been startled at first, rightfully so, as this giant of a man had all but stumbled right into me, eyes as wide as saucers. His boyfriend had come to his rescue though, offered me up one in apology, and who would I have been to deny? 

So I’d cracked it open, found myself pleasantly surprised by the taste, and one thing had quickly led to another and they’d ended up letting me share the bagged vodka they’d also managed to smuggle into the stadium in the bands of their socks.

To say that I’d been impressed wouldn’t have been a lie, I sort of felt like I’d found my people in truth. Because the price of alcohol at these kind of events was always extortionate. Practically daylight robbery, there was no other way about it.

And my bank account had taken quite the hit from the first trip to the stands alone. And with two teenage girls, who could care less about money unless it was their own, I’d almost wanted to shed a tear when I’d handed over my card to the boy behind the till- he’d sympathised with me, I’d seen it in his eyes as he wished us a good time.

So here I now was, pissing it up in the pit with a bunch of strangers, a medical bag full of spirits clutched tightly in one hand. 

“Oh, God! Y/n, Y/n! It’s starting!”

I turned away from one of the boys to glance back towards my sister, who was staring up at the stage with this starry eyed expression, Tea was right beside her wearing the exact same face. I chuckled beneath my breath.

“You girls ever been to a show before?” Lewis, one half of the couple I’d met earlier, asked Rosie.

My sister shook her head at his question whilst the screens above us begun to distort and screams overwhelmed the arena. Lewis merely chuckled at Rosie's nonverbal reply, she only had eyes for the stage it seemed. 

“It’s her first gig ever. She’s been dying to see these lot for years.” I answered for her, leaning in close so that he could hear.

I saw his eyebrows lift at the information before he was grinning against my ear. “She’ll never want to see anyone else after this!”

My forehead pinched, silently questioning his statement, but just laughed it off when a row of boxes flashed brightly above us.

Lewis and I separated on cue, just as the world around us hushed for a split second and the sudden intro of a loud guitar pierced the veil.

“Please welcome, my favourite band, The 1975!” A voice then announced and I looked up, right into the eyes of a man who’d seemingly taken claim of the stage.

His smile was wide, unmatched, as he pranced up and down the front, his hair a mess of curls as a set of drums picked up the pace of the opening beat. I had to be reminded to close my gawping mouth.

Who the fuck’s that?

And I must’ve said it out loud, because I heard Lewis snort obnoxiously from right beside me, continuing to sing away whilst the girls immediately turned towards me to shout, “Matty!”

Shockingly, their loud exclamation also managed to garner the attention of the man himself when he danced by, and I watched on as the dark-haired frontman smiled down at Rosie and Tea. Waving hello. 

I was caught by utter surprise when I then found myself trapped in his heady gaze, still giggling away at the girls' hysterical reactions. 

Okay. Before I continue on, I truly am putting this all down to the alcohol that was streaming through my system, because it was then that Matty appeared to pause before me for the briefest of moments. 

And I didn’t dare look away. I couldn’t. 

He smirked down at me, eyes so observant, and I found myself shaking my head at him with a smile of my own. But sadly he only left me with a sly wink as he traipsed away to sing out into the rest of the audience.

Rosie and Tea had squealed beside me, excited to have captured the singer's focus, whilst I tried to catch my breath.

The show continued on after that and I allowed myself to relax and get lost in the people, their heat, the music. I danced, the girls and I swayed, twirling about, Lewis and I laughed, and I even managed to sing along to a couple of songs I sort of recognised. 

The current one came to an end though soon enough, and Rosie informed me with a glossy eyed smile and smudged liner that the last song was fast approaching, whilst Tea just pulled out her phone to record again. 

I nodded at my sister, squeezing her close before she pivoted away back towards her best mate, leaving me to sip at the drink I’d been trying not to spill all down myself due to the constant shoving and pushing.

Minutes went by and Matty engaged with the burly bloke on bass- whose hair I found I’d rather like to touch (because honestly, how did he get it so glossy?). Before he continued on, pointing out signs here and there, and sparking up another massive round of cheers by vocalising the inner workings of his mind, which was something he supposedly did quite often. Enough for the rest of the band to begin playing again only to shut him up. That had made me giggle. 

Dozens of faces passed over the main screen, most of them beaming, or crying, there wasn’t much of an inbetween. And Matty interacted with them all, grinning and joking in such a way that only screamed sincerity.

The shouts around us only started to double then when he made his way over to our section, and even my own heartbeat sped up as I watched his eyes drag over the absurdly large crowd. He was unfairly attractive, okay? I could easily see why my sister had taken such a shine to him.

He was smiling and my pulse stuttered then stopped altogether when Matty paused right by us, to look me directly in the eye, his eyebrows drawn tightly together.

“Alright, darling? Having a good night?” He quizzed me, the sudden weight of his attention making me jump even though the surrounding screams had yet to cease. “What’s in the bag?”

I glanced down at the liquid filled bag I was still holding, gaze drifting to Lewis for a split second before it darted back up towards the singer. “Vodka.” I told him before I could think better of it.

The sound Matty produced then was almost inhuman and I was actually quite proud of myself for having been the cause of it.

“Definitely snuck that in.” He accused, quieter this time around and with a growing smile. The audience laughed.

Rosie and Tea spun around to face me, huge smiles threatening to split their faces in half, as my brows pinched.

“Way to out me to an entire arena!” I instantly called back, ducking slightly to avoid the eyes of the hefty security man stood on the other side of the barricade. Matty’s cackle echoed out around me, coming from all directions.

“Oi, mate! Escort her out, will you?” Matty ordered, nodding down at the same man I’d previously noticed. “Ruining it for everyone.”

I gaped, eyes widening in sudden alarm whilst he just shook his head at me, feigning disappointment.

Thankfully though the singer was quick to go back on his word, waving the guard (who had actually begun to MOVE) off with a sway of his hand and a thoroughly amused grin.

Fuck, this man was really going to be the death of me, I thought. 

I willed my racing heart to slow.

“I’m just joking, love.” Matty reassured me, eyes twinkling under the array of lights. “Spotted you a couple times tonight, actually. Like to stand out, don’t you?”

It didn’t sound like much of a question.

“Might do.”

I could physically feel my brain struggling to make my mouth cooperate, and I figured I might’ve drunk a tad too much, because I usually wasn’t this tactless. Which was how I managed to surprise even myself with the next sentence I fired back.

“Or maybe it’s just you.”

“Just me?” Matty queried with a tilt of his head, and he squatted down then, bouncing on the balls of his feet for a moment before he took perch on the side of the stage. “What do you mean?”

“You’re the one who spotted me.” I retorted with a smug smile, raising my voice to be heard. “I’m just one face in a thousand. Nothing I did.”

He hummed, mouth quirked to one side. “So this is all on me then?”

I shrugged casually, but my mind was reeling.

Matty laughed before he motioned me closer. “Here’re.” He prompted, jutting his chin out and willing the crowd to woefully part. “Come on, let her through. Let her through.”

I frowned but did as I was told, slipping my way past the few who had actually managed to claim the metal fence before us, quirking a confused brow up at him.

He towered above me, even from where he was seated on the stage, and I willed back my shock when he proceeded to jump down from off his perch and approach me. My heart hammered and a lump formed in my throat.

“Have you got a favourite song of ours?” He asked and I actually felt how embarrassed I must have looked in that moment, gifting the singer a sheepish smile before I quietly informed him that I didn't have one.

His head jerked back, “What do you mean, you don’t have one?”

The sudden crow of Rosie's voice sounded above the rest of the buzzing noise then and I was unsure on whether or not to be grateful for it.

“She’d never heard any of them before tonight!”

I grimaced slightly from behind the hand that had come up to hide my face, silently hoping for the ground to just open up and swallow me whole. I could feel the heat radiating in my cheeks and the tips of my ears, knowing full well that Tea was definitely recording every inch of this mortifying moment.

“Oh, so we have a fake fan within our midsts?” Matty voiced and it was full of mirth, he found pleasure in his teasing. 

A soft brush touched my skin and before I even knew what was occurring my hand was being pried away from my flushed cheeks by the singer himself, who looked me dead in the eye and had the utter nerve to wear the most devastating grin.

“Is this all part of your plan? Lure me in and then break my heart. How’re you at my gig, after never having heard a single one of our songs?”

“I’ve heard a few!”

But my attempt to defend myself was waylaid, it seemed Matty had other ideas.

The frontman nodded over towards Rosie, who blanched under his gaze. “Go on. Tell me more. What’s her motive here?”

I watched on as Tea nudged my younger sister into talking, Rosie too shellshocked to remember that she had the biggest gob I’d known to man.

“Um,” My sister startled, blinking away before she took a deep breath, “I dragged her along tonight. Me and my friend, we’re huge fans!”

“Lovely to meet you. Glad you could make it- only wish you’d made a listener out of this one beforehand!”

“We’ve tried!” Rosie exclaimed with an exasperated sigh that had me rolling my eyes. It appeared as though she'd reverted back to her usual self, despite being under the gaze of her favourite person in the entire world. Yes, you could be assured that that was an actual quote.

“Oh it’s like that is it?” Matty asked, peering down at me. I couldn’t tear my gaze away, his brown eyes smudged with kohl making them that much more enticing.

His attention differed then, flitting back towards my sister.

“She seemed to be enjoying the set whenever I looked over though, so what happened?”

“She’s stubborn!” Rosie shouted back, and I could hear her muffled laughter through the crowd, probably upon seeing me so put out.

“Stubborn, are we?” Matty smirked, and his lips were by my ear before I knew any better, his mic long forgotten. “I like a challenge.”

And then he was gone, back to wooing the crowd and making the most of having all this attention.

I let myself slip back into the seams, breathing heavily as my sister and Tea joggled me about, Lewis and his boyfriend beaming madly from ear to ear. I tried to focus.

What had just happened?

Part Two>

[nehswritesstuffs]

ghosts speak in whispers and lies; can't know what's real 'til you're the one who's died - Part One

Okay, so I wasn't going to post this until it was all complete, but at the same time Law's birthday came up and it's too perfect not to start now lol.

3878 words to start, with at least 20k more to come; while definitely not trying to copy these fics by any means, I do have to shout out AO3 peeps DamianFinch for doing something along these lines for Sanji in the fic Obelisk and HyperbolicReverie for Losing Time (You Can’t Go Home Again), two other excellent fics; if you’re in the One Piece fandom and can guess where I took the general premise from then you get one (1) internet cookie; lots of weird shit is on the way you have been warned lol

The Polar Tang makes a stop at an island between Wano and Winner and runs into an unconventional trap. His crew knows it's a long-shot, but there's only one group they can trust to help them get their captain back before it's too late: his girlfriend's crew.

-_-_-_-_-_-_-

Sleep was something that often eluded Law. He long-knew why: the moment soldiers began to descend upon Flevance was when he stopped being able to sleep well. Sometimes it manifested in being unable to sleep for days, other times he could sleep but only for an hour or two at a time, and sometimes… when things were really bad… there were nightmares. Full-body shakes and screams only led to his navigator bringing him herbal tea and…

“Maybe you should see a doctor,” Shachi shrugged one day. They were docked in a small port on their way to their next island, Wano not far behind them and the Pose still pointing out to sea. Law looked at his crewmate, deadpan. It was not the first time it had been suggested and it still ruffled him like it was the first time.

“Sach, I am a doctor.”

“Well, yeah, but can’t you—I dunno—get a second opinion? From someone very much not yourself?”

“He’s right,” Penguin chimed in traitorously. Almost like bloodhounds, the pair had hunted Law down in the marketplace, nagging him more like a pair of aunties than men barely older than him.“The only part of you that should look like death is your knuckles.”

“Ha, ha; very funny,” Law scowled. He glanced over his shoulder to look across the market as he felt outwards with his Haki; nothing nor no one was tracking them. Good. “I’m fine; always have been.”

“You’re not,” Shachi noted. “We’ve known you long enough to be able to tell that much.”

“I’m fine,” he reiterated. Penguin and Shachi both looked at one another and shrugged. “That’s mutiny.”

“It’s not and you know it,” Penguin scoffed. He looked at his captain and a thought came to mind. “Listen—let’s give each other about half an hour. This port’s quiet, so we meet back here in thirty minutes and then Sach and I get to bring you back to the Polar Tang and you can figure out how to sleep while everyone else is out. How does that sound?”

Law grunted in response; he didn’t need to be babied. It was a good thing that Penguin and Shachi had both been looking out for him for over a decade at that point, or else they would already be Shambled into pieces across the market for even the thought. The pair took that for as close as they were going to get to a positive reaction and left him alone for the time being, promising to find him once the half hour was complete.

He didn’t need their pity, Law thought as he wandered through the market. It was a good place to wander in, to get momentarily lost, to forget for a while. There weren’t many places he could do that; not many places he wanted to do that. He was only walking about aimlessly for a short while when he felt something bump into his legs—a child?

“Oh, sorry mister!” the kid said quickly. He looked at her blankly, though the little girl mistook his regular face for being irritated. “I didn’t mean to run into you!”

“You’re fine,” he grunted. It was only superficial, but the girl looked too much Lami for him to really be angry. “Just be careful, okay?”

“O-okay…?” the girl seemed to be frozen in place, that was, until a young boy appeared from the crowd and ran up to her, putting himself between the girl and Law. After a careful few seconds, he pulled the girl away, leaving Law alone in the market.

“Law-nii, why are you so sad?”

It was a question that Lami had asked him not too long before everything went to shit; a question that had been replaying in his dreams since leaving Wano. How in the hell had he supposed to answer that back then? All he could have asked for was some way for Lami to recover and leave Flevance with him and he couldn’t even manage that. Those last days in Wano, watching Momonosuke and Hiyori interact, seeing the kids running through the Flower Capitol having been rescued from danger… there was a reason he had chosen mostly to retreat to the shipyard in Tokage instead of wander around the city—around Wano—and it was a bit more personal than he wanted to let on. It was fucking embarrassing, what it was, and all he needed to do was wait it out. He had before and he could do it again.

Not that he necessarily wanted to do it alone, mind. He knew that Penguin and Shachi meant well, and that Bepo was easily one of the top stress-reducing members of his crew with how fluffy he was, but at the same time, he wondered what sort of effect Strawhat-ya’s archaeologist would have on him. Part of Law wanted Robin there so that she could wander around with him, holding hands as they enjoyed getting lost together, while another part of him imagined his sleep deprivation could be solved by using her ample chest as a pillow as she played with his hair…

“Son, what’s the matter?” Law looked and saw a middle-aged woman sitting next to a booth that seemed to specialize in odd-looking trinkets. If he thought about it for long enough, she could have even been around his mother’s age…

“None of your business,” he said. Which was the truth; what did he owe a random woman on a random island? Not necessarily any of his attention, and certainly not an answer.

“If you don’t get some sleep soon, you’re likely to fall over and die,” the woman said, “and that’s not going to do those demons of yours any good.”

“You know nothing about my demons.”

“I know enough to see you’re not well, Flevench child.” He tried not to react, yet she could hear the way he sharply inhaled. “Surprised someone knows that accent all the way out here? It’s been a bit, but it’s unmistakable.”

“So you know where I’m from—it’s not that difficult if you know a few key facts,” he scoffed, trying to play it off as no big deal. Except it was a big deal. In fact, he would even call it a huge deal. “Maybe I should kill you to keep you quiet.”

“Hmm, I doubt that.”

“…and why not…?”

“…because I have something that can finally let you have a good rest. You’re worth three billion beri; a man like that can’t be tired and weigh down his crew. Are they able to protect you should a three billion beri threat come knocking on your door?”

Law did not answer, instead keeping eye contact while reaching out with his Haki. Nothing seemed dangerous, she wasn’t concealing a weapon, and no one was ready to ambush him or snipe him from the other side of the market. What was her game…?

“If you want to calm your mind and be able to get some sleep, then look inside that jar on the end; the blue one. You do that and all your worries will melt away.”

It seemed too good to be true. Law stared at the jar at the end of the cart, deep blue with golden circles and swirls for a pattern. He stepped towards it, feeling almost a pull, something in the back of his mind telling him it was alright…

…before he could come to his senses, his hand was resting atop the lid of the jar. He opened it up and looked in; something was in there, clicking angrily at being disturbed.

“Hey, what the hell is thi—!”

Suddenly, the world went black and Trafalgar D. Water Law went to sleep.

-_-_-_-_-_-_-

“Fuck, I can’t believe we lost the captain,” Shachi groaned as he and Penguin searched the market for Law. It was well past the half hour mark and they were beginning to get worried. “Do you think he went back to the Tang without us?”

“Unlikely,” Penguin frowned. “At least we know he can’t go too far. Island’s not big enough for him to run away.”

“Yeah, as though he’d run away and leave Bepo to cry. That bear sniffles once and it’s like the world is ending.”

“He’s protective of us to a fault, I’ll give you that.” Penguin stopped in the middle of the street and put his hands on his hips as he tried to think. “Now if I were the captain, then where would I go?”

“Comic book store? Coin shop? Get his sword professionally cleaned?”

“I’m serious.”

“So am I.” Shachi looked around the market, though with no one even remotely matching the description of their cranky baby of a captain, he decided that it was time to break out the big guns: asshole needed to be perceived. “Oi! Captain! Where in the hell are you?!”

“That’s not gonna work,” Penguin groaned.

“You’re just jealous because you didn’t shout first.”

“That is literally the last thing anyone should be jealous about.”

“You’ve always been jealous of me since we were kids: admit it.”

“Jealous of what? The way babes avoid you? Not a chance.”

Shachi rolled his eyes behind his sunglasses and pouted—this was truly getting them nowhere. He kept looking around the market, his eyes catching something crumpled on the ground a ways away. “Hey, doesn’t that look like the Captain’s coat?” Penguin turned and looked where he was pointing, only to hiss.

“Fuck! It’s not just his coat! It’s the Captain!”

The pair rushed over to where their captain was laid out on the ground near an empty stall. No one was around or seemed to be paying attention to them, which was more unsettling than they would have liked to admit. Penguin knelt down and began to shake Law by the shoulder, his captain refusing to respond.

“Hey, come on Cap, we gotta go,” he said. No response. “Listen, I know we all agreed that you needed to get more sleep, but I don’t think you should really be doing it in the street.”

“His sword’s still here, so at least we know it’s not a robbery,” Shachi noticed. Penguin looked and yeah, he was right: Kikoku was laying in the dirt next to Law. He took the chance and felt the pants pocket where he knew Law kept his wallet and sure as shit that was still there as well.

“Law, this isn’t funny anymore,” Penguin said. He took his captain and friend and rolled him over so that he could take a good look at him and see if he had hit his head or anything, only to jerk back at what met him.

There, right where Law’s face should have been, sat some sort of gross, slimy blob. It was a pinkish-grey and pulsing and had tentacles that wrapped around his face in order to keep it in place over his eyes, nose, and mouth. Whatever the fuck it was, it was keeping Law from answering him, as though the captain was trapped in a deep sleep.

“Fucking seas!” Shachi gasped. He and Penguin looked at one another, then at Law, and they knew that they were in deep, deep shit.

-_-_-_-_-_-_-

Law woke up with a gasp and a shudder, realizing that he was soaked in sweat. Fuck… it was just a dream. A nightmare. Not real. He looked around his room and felt himself grow calmer. It was the bedroom he had been inhabiting since he was a child, not a… submarine…? Shit, his imagination was getting wild lately.

“Wake up, Weenis,” Lami demanded as she pounded her fist on the door. Law went to the door and opened it, seeing his younger sister standing there still in her pajamas. “You promised to let my class watch you in the theater today and I’m not letting you skip out.”

“Aren’t you bossy this morning?” he fired back. “Moer and Vaor get back from work yet?”

“No—they had some senior staff meetings called last-minute and won’t be back until lunch.” Lami then began to walk away. “You better hurry up if you’re going to do the surgery in more than your underwear. Plus you stink.”

Law grabbed the nearest thing he could—a stuffed seagull toy from Sora, Warrior of the Sea—and threw it at her.

“Ack! Pick on somebody your own size!” Lami threw the stuffed toy back, with Law ducking out of the way easily.

“You’re not even three centimeters shorter than me; shut up,” he laughed. “Be ready in fifteen, okay?”

“Yeah, yeah,” Lami said, brushing it off as she went down the stairs. Law rolled his eyes and shut the door to his bedroom before pausing.

Huh… that was kind of an intense nightmare he’d just woken up from, if he thought about it for long enough. He dreamt of a jumbled-up world that was completely different than this one, where he was alone in the world and a pirate, of all things. Although he unfortunately knew his favorite comic was mostly just government propaganda, he’d never really go as far as to turn pirate? To be in league with a notorious pirate crew from the North Blue? Start his own crew? Take down bigger and bigger threats to his existence? Defeating Yonkou in the Grand Line?! He never met one of the Pirate Emperors, let alone wanted to provoke one, and yet he had helped to take down two. All because in the dream, the epidemic had instead been a slaughter and his Devil Fruit had been how he lived.

Law was neither a psychologist nor psychiatrist by any means, but he sure as hell knew something was wrong when he woke up sweaty after dreaming that he carried the charred memories of Flevance on his back. He looked at himself in the mirror—no tattoos, no scars from a reattached arm and varied bullet wounds, just him.

Dreams weren’t real, thank fuck.

-_-_-_-_-_-_-

“What the fuck are we going to do?!” Ikkaku snapped. She gestured at their captain’s prone body laying on a table in the mess hall while Penguin and Shachi looked like they were little kids who just got caught playing with a stray cat. “How in the hell did he even end up like this?!”

“We were just walking around in the market and we literally turned away for two minutes before he was on the ground!” Penguin fired back. “Neither of us saw where this thing came from!”

“What is it…?” Clione wondered. He poked at the thing covering the captain’s face carefully and it clicked in irritation. “Is it alive?”

“I think so,” Shachi replied. “It seems to shift its position every once and a while.”

“What is it doing?” Uni asked. Hakugan just shrugged.

“Shit like this is why I wear a mask.”

“Thanks for the input, but does this mean you know what this is?” Ikkaku sniped, pointing at the… thing. “If you do, I’d love if you’d say something useful for once.”

The entire mess hall was about to erupt into argument when Jean Bart finally came back with his share of the shopping, dropping the crate of potatoes with a gasp. Everyone looked to see an expression that their newest member had never displayed before then.

Jean Bart was terrified.

“Where did this come from?!” he gasped. He ignored the potatoes and instead went to Law’s side, inspecting the creature latched onto his face. “Penguin? Shachi? You were the ones who went with him!”

“We don’t know!” Penguin insisted. “One moment he was normal and the next he was laid out on the street like that. Neither of us saw anything.” Dread settled in his stomach as he realized that Jean Bart was truly and completely unnerved by this. “What is it?”

“This is something that Celestial Dragons use to punish and torture slaves,” the large man replied gravely. “It latches onto the face and injects a powerful hallucinogen into the bloodstream that causes the victim to dream of their dream world. When it gets taken off, the victim is weak from lack of food and the lasting effects of the poison… not to mention the trauma from how they’ve been ripped from their freedom.”

“What is it though?” Shachi asked. “How do we get it off?”

“I’ve seen it done three ways,” Jean Bart said. He poked the creature and it chittered again. “The first way is that there is a device that the Celestial Dragons use to remove it. We can’t consider that an option because there’s only a few of them in existence and they are all in Mary Geoise. Same goes for the second, because it involves the woman whose Devil Fruit ability makes these things.”

“…and the third…?” Ikkaku asked. Jean Bart shook his head.

“There was one person I saw that must have done something to kill the creature from inside of the dream, but I don’t know what exactly.”

“…why not…?”

“He was shot to death soon after waking up, since it was before schedule.” A chill settled over the mess hall—this was not looking good. “We need help; I doubt this is something we have more information on than what I just told you.”

“Get help from who?” Uni scoffed. “I don’t think there’s a lot of people that the captain would trust with something like this, let alone someone who knows about Celestial Dragon torture devices.”

“Then maybe…” Penguin mused aloud, “…we should start with someone who he trusts in general and work from there.”

“Not exactly a lot of those wandering around, and even fewer who are doctors,” Clione reminded them. “Who in the hell would you recruit who wouldn’t get us all murdered when the captain wakes up?”

There was little argument that the list was extremely short, and that the only doctor on it was… well… presented his own problems, or at least his captain did. Not like they had any choice in the matter, did they?

-_-_-_-_-_-_-

After tidying himself up and getting dressed, Law went with Lami over to the hospital. There was always an odd sense of nostalgia as he walked into the building—he’d spent so much time there between it being where his parents worked and the time that Amber Lead poisoning nearly killed Lami… if there was any other place that felt like home, it was this place.

Once he was sure that Lami was off towards her class in the teaching portion of the hospital, it was time to get caught up on what had happened overnight. Law took a look at the charts that were sitting in his tray and scowled.

“Glaring at them won’t change the fact they’re there,” Bepo said. Law glanced over at the polar bear sitting at the nurse’s desk—how dare he. “You need to at least do some evals to make sure that surgery is the answer before you take them on.”

“With this kind of schedule you’re going to ruin my weekend by making me work straight through it.”

“Sorry, but it can’t be helped.” Law tried to glare at the Mink, but Bepo went on the offensive with the cutest teddy bear look he could muster—he’d been doomed from the start. “You could be a fucking mascot character.”

“I could be in Pedes, and then who would help you?” Ah, yes, he had a very good point.

“Oh, there you are,” said a voice. Both Law and Bepo looked to see Law’s mother coming down the corridor, looking absolutely exhausted. “Lami get here okay?”

“I still don’t know if medicine is really the right field for her if I need to keep making sure she gets to class,” Law replied as he gave his mother a one-armed hug full of awkwardness and regret for working in the same hospital as her. “Maybe she really should just take general courses and see what sticks.”

“Nonsense,” she replied. “Both of you have been interested in medicine since you were little, and look at you! Best in your class! Several years ahead!”

“Moer… I was interested in medicine. Lami was interested in how she was staying alive. Those are different.”

“It’s the same thing and you know it. She should just be glad we’re not judging her on your scales.” She then turned towards Bepo and gave him a sweet, tired smile. “Bepo, be a dear and make sure my son eats something at lunch today.”

“Moer…!”

“Yes, ma’am, Dr. Mrs. Trafalgar, ma’am!” the bear said with a salute. Law’s mother laughed.

“Bepo, you’re my son’s friend. I’ve told you that you can call me Angela.”

“Your name is Dr. Mrs. Trafalgar, ma’am.” Law’s mother shook her head before pulling her son down to kiss his forehead.

“See you at dinner,” she said, “and don’t be late this time. I don’t want it to dry out in the oven waiting for you again.”

“Yes, Moer,” he whined. His mother smiled as she walked away and waved, seemingly all too pleased with herself. “She does realize it’s not very professional to have one’s mother pop in at work and talk about family dinner, right?”

“I don’t think she cares, nor does anyone else.” Bepo watched as Law tried to ignore him. “You wouldn’t be so upset if it was Miss Robin.”

“Spouses and significant others show up at workplaces all the time,” Law argued. “I don’t want people to think I’m only here because my moetje checks in on me.” He emphasized the Flevench children’s word for mom with derision, making his lack of approval clear.

“You were the one who chose to work here,” Bepo reminded him. “You could run the entire hospital in Whiteland if you wanted.”

“That would involve being in Whiteland—thanks but no thanks.”

“Who knows? Maybe Miss Robin would like to go?”

“Why she stays here is a mystery.” Except, he knew why she stayed—she had already re-upped her contract with the university and there were few reasons as to why someone from a warm part of the West Blue would voluntarily stay in a place that snowed. “Do you at least have anything that doesn’t involve a pre-existing condition? I at least want to exercise my brain a little bit here.”

Bepo shook his head and chuckled, handing over a specific chart. “You still thinking about having her meet your parents next week?”

“She should have met them ages ago; I can’t back out now.” Law let his vision slip out of focus as he thought about the very terrifying concept of Robin meeting his parents. All sorts of terrifying prospects crossed his mind—it was bad enough that Lami had hunted her down on campus, but his parents…? He didn’t want to go down that train of thought because then he’d never get any work done.

Giving his head a small shake, he came back to his senses and focused on the chart in front of him. He tried to pretend to not notice Bepo’s smirk—at least his friends were as mutinous as pirates. Maybe that’s where his brain was getting it from.

‘Not the time, Law; there’s patients to care for.’

[hathorneheiress]

Grayson Hawthorne sickfics pt3

Grayson's POV

I had no idea how long I was out for, but when I regained consciousness Nash and Jameson were standing over my bedside.

I realized that I was almost naked, aside from my undergarments, but was thankfully covered by a thin sheet. My whole body felt on fire yet cold at the same time.

Slightly embarrassed by my state of undress and position I was in, I asked the only sensible question that came to mind. "What in the world happened?" I croaked out.

"You fainted." Nash explained. "I found you in your office. You have a very high fever and we have called the doctor. He should be here any minute."

I didn't like the thought of that but was smart enough to know that I shouldn't argue with Nash. I was so tired and all I wanted to do was sleep, even though I had just passed out for a few minutes. Well, I hope I did.

"How long was out?"

"About an hour." Nash replied.

I could feel my eyes widen at the shocking news. "What?" I exclaimed.

"You were out for about an hour." He reiterated.

I could feel myself rising from the bed, but Nash gently yet firmly pushed me back down. "You are going nowhere for the rest of the day."

Just then the doctor came and I was evaluated. As I had thought, it was over exhaustion. I was working myself to hard, and I need to take it easy for the next few days. The fever should pass by morning. Drink plenty of fluids and stay in bed. That was the doctor's orders.

I tried not to sulk after the doctor left. This was everything I already knew and I did not want to stay in bed. Unfortunately, I didn't have a choice.

I was forced by Jameson to drink a rather large glass of water. I did, and then began to feel myself drifting off to sleep.

By this point Nash had left and Jameson was beginning to leave as well. There was no doubt in my mind I would be checked on every hour.

My eyelids drooped lower and I could feel sleep washing over me like a tide. Before I went into La-la land, I thought of how relieved I was that I was fine.

Boy was I wrong.

Tagging @lovelylima

[platonically-loving-alastor]

Screenshot Overanalysis Time!

I've actually spent so much time thinking about this image because no one else talks about it, and it's led to headcanons that range in realism from 'this is possible ig' to 'this definitely isn't true but it's still fun to think about'. So being sure to keep that in mind, I'm gonna describe said headcanons.

So, based on google searches for archangels, there are multiple ideas for how many there are, and one of those ideas is 7 (disregarding Lucifer ofc). Those 7 are Michael, Raphael, Gabriel, Uriel, Camael (also spelled Chamuel), Jophiel, and Zadkiel. This is the idea that I'm going to run with to say that the 6 figures in the screenshot are the other archangels. "Oh but how would they be the 7 archangels if there's only 6 of them-?" Well that's what I thought at first, but I'm also persistent. So I started thinking that maybe one of the archangels didn't exist until after Lucifer fell, possibly replacing him (I'll be using Zadkiel to fill this role throughout the post). Of course I don't know much about the system in this universe's Heaven, along with if they'd even feel the need to replace him to begin with, so it was originally just a random fun idea to me more than a genuine possibility.

However, something has since been brought to my attention that makes my idea make more sense. The 7 Heavenly Virtues. Though lesser acknowledged, there is one for each of the Deadly Sins, who we already know exist in the Hazbin Universe, including Lucifer representing Pride; Which is exactly what interested me about it. If the Virtues do exist in Hazbin Hotel's Heaven, that could mean that Lucifer used to be the Virtue of Humility, before unintentionally creating and becoming Hell's parallel to that, the Sin of Pride. With this idea in mind, I think this would make it much more likely for Heaven to actively need a replacement after he fell, they would've needed a new Virtue of Humility. So when Lucifer fell, there would have only been 6 archangels left, the same number we see in this scene, before they had the chance to create Zadkiel.

Also, just to cover my bases and mention the possible argument of Lucifer being a seraphim, I don't think that's technically been confirmed (or if it has, hey it's not like I thought this idea would turn out fully canon anyway lol). Yes, he has 3 sets of wings, which traditionally indicates a Seraphim (from what I've heard in this fandom at least, I have not studied the Bible myself). But we also know that Vivienne doesn't necessarily adhere to biblical accuracy, so this may just be how she's chosen to depict archangels. The main reason I would believe that were the case is the fact that all 6 figures behind him also have 3 sets of wings. These technically could also be Seraphim, but I feel like story-wise it would make more sense to me for them to have been archangels than more seraphim. this is partially because none of the halos look like the one we see on Sera, and I think it would be safe to assume if they were Seraphim in that moment, Sera would have been there with them.

Before I post this, I'm just gonna reiterate in case people wanna take this too seriously; This is mostly a fun and interesting idea that I know won't be true. Just let me do a bit of theorizing without the pressure of realism in this show that isn't exactly the perfect model of realism itself.

In conclusion, I wanna see archangels in the show so bad you don't understand- I've made picrew designs for them at this point, maybe I should post them, for the fun of it 👀

[mrs-gauche]

Ok, I'm pretty sure no one actually cares about this and I'm probably *really* overthinking the plot of a very simple comic here, but hey, wild speculations are fun and since there's still a bit of time left until the final volume of The Missing releases at the end of this month, why not write it down just in case there could actually be more to this (or you all get a reason to laugh at me in about two weeks)! 😂

Because for some reason, I just can't stop thinking about the "true identity" of the mysterious "Venatori assassin" that had been stalking Varric and Harding since volume 1...

(...Assuming the person we see here was actually one and the same throughout all these scenes. 👀) But before I go on, just beware of spoilers for the whole comic obviously, but also some stuff about the DA4 reddit leaks from a few weeks ago under the cut! 😁

So, to reiterate real quick, by the end of volume 3, Varric seemed to think that, whatever happened the moment he was almost killed by a Leopard and then heroically saved by a "Venatori assassin", was somehow instigated by none other than Solas himself. First of all, let me start by saying that there's a good chance that none of this actually matters, the guy was simply a cheap plot device to keep readers guessing and we'll never see them again, there won't be any grand revelation about them nor will they play any significant role whatsoever, given that the poor guy, whoever it was, appears to have basically disintegrated because of the strange time-altering magic in the Arlathan Forest after saving Varric from that Leopard and is therefore presumably.. pretty dead now, I guess. lol

Yet, in any case, the way this mystery person had been presented to us throughout all this, almost made it feel like they were setting this person up for something big or some grand unmasking by the end of this comic? 🤔 At least, that's what I thought until the end of volume 3... Which leads me to believe that there’s still a small chance for some sort of surprise in the final volume despite the unceremonious disintegration. lol (Or that’s just wishful thinking...) I kinda already did this in my post on volume 3, but after giving it some more thought, here are all the potential "identities" I consider possible now: 1) What I have come to realize now and what seems to make the most sense actually - and thank you again @thebookworm0001​ for pointing it out to me 😁 -  that it could've simply been one of Solas' agents who was ordered to keep an eye on them throughout this whole journey and to save them in case they got in any dangerous situations. Which would also explain what happened at the end of volume 1, when Varric and Harding found that deepstalker lying dead in front of Solas' hideout, suggesting that this agent had killed it to prevent it from attacking Varric and Harding, saving their life yet again. lol

This could also fit in with some comments I’ve seen, assuming that this pouch thing that the assassin carried in that scene in volume 3 showed the same “Dread Wolf” symbol that was also seen on that wax seal on Solas’ letter.

Though I still think it would be kinda weird for a spy to openly carry a symbol of identification like that? lol But if that’s the case, might I add that Solas’ agents would therefore quite literally be wearing a badge of Pride. (*ba dum tsss*)

2) The guy was actually a real Venatori assassin, but somehow manipulated by Solas to save Varric. 3) The Venatori was Solas himself in disguise. Now, while that IS the most fun scenario to think about, it still just doesn't make much sense to me tbh, because of basically all the reasons I talked about in this post, so I won't bother to elaborate again. 😂 I'll just say that, again, ever since "the Orlesian Bard", anything is possible, so I can't fully outrule it either, I guess. lol (Though in addition to this, I also don't know why Solas wouldn't just kill that Leopard (or the deepstalker in volume 1 for that matter) with a simple spell or something, instead of jumping in and "sacrificing" himself. lol Actually, now that I think about it, it seems a bit suspect now that he also wouldn't interfere when Varric and Harding were being attacked by that Tevinter mage in volume 2?) 4) Varric was simply wrong. lol Solas wasn't involved in this at all, the Venatori was the real deal and this is all actually part of some grand plan by the Venatori to get Varric and Harding to lead them to Solas/the ancient artifacts like the Crucious Stone. Which is why they saved Varric to ensure they made it out of the Arlathan Forest alive to continue their pursuit and use those ancient artifacts for... something not good. lol With the way Varric and Harding were seemingly lead to follow all those (purposefully laid out?) clues, only to end up at this letter telling Varric not to interfere, makes me actually hope that this was all part of the Venatori's schemes, just because I still don't fully understand what the whole purpose of this was then, if Solas was the one behind all this. (Unless his intention was to simply keep the Inquisition distracted or something.) And looking at the blurb for the final volume again, which seems to have Varric and Harding going back to Minrathous because Solas "has been spotted" there, maybe this will all culminate in the Venatori trying to get the Crucious Stone back from him/Solas trying to stop the Venatori from doing something really stupid with yet another ancient artifact (much like what he did with this one Tevinter mage and the red lyrium idol in Tevinter Nights). 5) The person was someone else entirely, neither associated with the Venatori OR Solas! Which brings us to the last and probably my favorite theory (and actually the main reason I even wanted to talk about this again)... What if this mysterious person... is actually the next protagonist? 😂 Hear me out! This comic was marketed to lead directly into DA4 somehow, right? So this should be taken almost like a little (yet ultimately irrelevant) prologue to the main story, right?

It also seems pretty clear by now that the overall purpose of this whole comic is to introduce us to/highlight the four factions (Grey Wardens/Antivan Crows/Veil Jumpers/Tevinter... something) that are probably going to play an important part in DA4's story in some way, or rather the four factions that are likely going to be options to choose for our next protagonist, if we're looking at how those four factions were already presented in concept art/short stories, but also the 2020 teaser, along with Varric's narration talking about how "It's time for a new hero" and "Someone they'll never see coming".

And with this, I'm also looking at the reddit leaks again from a few weeks ago and how "Rook" will apparently be the name/title of our next protagonist. A name that might suggest a spy background (along with everything we know about the first version of DA4 "Joplin" and the ominous "red book" with a rook on its cover), someone who goes by an alias rather than their actual name to operate, like many of the spies we know from DAI. So... when Varric's talking about "a new hero" and "someone they'll never see coming", wouldn't it be so hilarious to have that one mystery person disguised as a Venatori assassin, turn out to be literally the one spy no one saw coming? 😂 Obviously, I have no idea how they would even be involved in all this.. Like, why would they stalk Varric and Harding and why would they even want to save Varric? But who knows, maybe at the end of this comic this person will pop up again in Minrathous, which will segue directly into the start of DA4 when the protagonist will bump into Varric saying "Oh wow, I don't know who you are but you've done an amazing job at spying on me, would you be interested to work for us?" 😂 "Rook, it is? Oh don't worry, you can keep your silly spy name." Or what if Varric will be the one to assign this name to the next protagonist then when he’s recruiting them? After all, Varric IS still a spymaster, right? lol

What kinda speaks against all this though is, for one, that the Venatori assassin was already shown to be of human or elven like stature, which would therefore already "canonize" the next protagonist to be of a certain race, and while BioWare has used their own canon default Hawke/human Inquisitor for promotional stuff before, I don't know if they would do it like this... Also, I can't see BioWare actually have the next protagonist be introduced in a comic/additional media that most people aren't going to read anyway. lol But still, I think it's a lot of fun to think about. 😁

So that's where I'm at. Again, I'm about 99.9% sure that none of this will actually be addressed or matter at all in the final volume and we'll just be left to forever speculate who the mysterious no name was who saved Varric's life. lol

If anything, thank you mystery person for saving our favorite dwarf (unless it was actually you Solas, in which case, shame on you for even getting Varric in a situation like this in the first place. 😂)

[jackie-shitposts]

do u think theres actually gonna be a sequel for carmen sandiego or r they just teasing due to the popularity of summer of sandiego

also i wish there was a miniseries with like 3 episodes of like the main ships (carulia/red crackle/carmivy) like idk i feel like that way all fans wud be happy LMAO but broo them not showing carmens mommy reuniting w her made me want to hit my head on the wall

like did her mom accept her and recognize her at first? did her mom slowly accept her and treated her like a stranger for the first weeks before warming up to here?? did her mom not accept her as her daughter due to the trauma of what happened that night?? like i need answers before i go boom.

The only thing said about a potential spinoff or sequel is that it was in the “earliest stages” back in september 2021. We’ve had basically zero update since then, and in addition they said the same about a live action carmen sandiego in 2017, and reiterated that again in 2021.

Summer of Sandiego and similar events being popular does have the ability to affect whether or not a TV show gets more content or not, although it doesnt have as much power as ratings/watch time do.

I think something that might point in favor of CS getting more content is the fact that the CS social media accounts have not gone dormant. Most social media accounts for movies and TV stop posting entirely after some amount of time, but its been years and CS socials are still active. Plus, some time ago they launched a merch store, which signifies that executives still think CS could be worth investing in (although it would be more profitable if they sold actually good looking merch).

All this to say, I have no idea what the fate of future carmen content is, but it doesnt mean we cant hope.

as for your shipping miniseries, I wouldnt want that for many reasons, the a big one being that i think rather than satisfy shippers, it would just make most of them fight with each other more than they already do. because nobody realizes that polyamory solves all your problems. sobs. and besides, theres always fanfic

I actually dont really feel the need to know who carmen’s mom is. While I have issues with how the show ended in regards to NOT elaborating on Carmen’s found family life after she was saved from VILE, I do agree that getting to know her mother is a story Carmen should undergo alone, at least to start. And from an audience’s perspective, why do we need to see her mother? She isnt going to have a face we recognize. And the show didn’t have the time to allow us to get to know her or care about her. All it wouldve been is a few seconds longer to see the hug we already know happened, and then jump cut 2 years ahead anyway. I think in regards to Carmen’s mother, they left it in a good spot that allows for further exploration in fanfic or the mystery spinoff.

[prompt-master]

The Answer Was Within The Contradiction

A short fic: After the events of sdr2, Hinata finds himself attempting to recode Nanami. He and Kamakura talk about it

Before it all would have seemed like sci-fi nonsense to Hajime. A world made of zeroes and ones, a contagious disease made from the human psyche, an animalistic human slaughter game for outside entertainment. A synthetic girl.

There was a time before Hajime lived and indulged with this fictional world. And there was a time where he forced himself to be so interwoven with the fiction that a permanent reminder stared back at him in the mirror and whispered into his mind. All he had left was hindsight and painfully distinct memories.

"You are a paradox," Izuru told him often, "Your very existence is a word of defiance."

And once Hajime got a taste of defiance, he found himself craving it at all possible avenues.

"Haven't you already defied enough? Look around you."

Hajime knew he asked for too much every time he saw the bittersweet expression of a grieving man on Makoto's face, stark even behind a video screen. Hajime knew he was already quite possibly the luckiest unlucky guy next to Komaeda Nagito himself. He was here. He was alive. He was real. With most of his friends alive, when no one should be.

But it was that one lost friend that haunted him, that left Hajime hungry to defy the odds once again.

"There are things even we can't do."

Hajime suddenly inhaled sharply. He shoved away from his desk, allowing the office chair he was sitting in to roll back with the force. Count to ten. He reminded himself, head leaning over the backrest. He let the numbers roll over him, resisting the urge to start pulling out his hair.

It wasn’t about possibility anymore, this was about necessity. Hajime’s new life was defined by impossibilities lining themselves up into a confusing labarynth, but he would be damned if he couldn’t navigate it one way or another.

He wiped his brow, then muttered under his breath “Shut up.”

“I am free to speak my mind just as you are.”

“Yeah, well…” Hajime dragged himself back over to his desk, leaning over the computer. He was greeted not for the first or last time by complex codes weaving themselves in ways he would never properly understand. Yet, at the same time. He understood them perfectly. The breakets and loops and command lines built an unfinished art piece in his mind, one he craved to finish crafting. He began typing again, letting unknown knowledge blanket him once more. “You can at least keep it to yourself.”

“Why should I keep it from you, when we are so close to one another?”

Hajime resisted the urge to roll his eyes, Izuru really could act like a child at times. “Because it’s unhelpful. I only want to hear something helpful right now.”

“Then allow me to provide you with some advice.”

Hajime’s fingers jittered over the computer keys, stumbling to a halt. He tsked, wishing Izuru had a body outside his own so that he could kick him out of the room.

“You can not achieve your goal in the way you wish it to be achieved.”

“I didn’t ask for advice, especially not that nonsense.” Hajime glared at himself through the screen.

“It goes against basic logistics.”

“Well then, it’s a good thing that those basics mean nothing to me.”

"Allow me to provide meaning, then."

"I didn't sign up for Siri to be in my head…" Hajime mumbled under his breath. Izuru pretended he didn't hear the words.

"Coding is unique to the coder and without the original files or notes it is nearly impossible to replicate a project as complex as the one you chose."

Hajime felt a headache beginning to brew, attempting to tune out the points Izuru reiterated to him

Over

And over

And over and over.

Hajime bit his tongue, grinded his teeth, and held his breath. He tried to focus on his typing. Or the screen. But each "furthermore" and "lest we forget" caused a sizzling burn deep in Hajime's soul that made the characters blur.

"-You simply don't know what you're doing-"

With a snap and a pop the frustration built up enough that the world set itself on fire. Hajime slammed his hands down onto the desk. He was ready to strangle the man in his brain.

"Then why-" Hajime asked through gritted teeth, "Are you helping me?"

There was a great long pause. A pause where silence was his only answer. for a moment Hajime couldn't even feel the ever looming presence of Kamukura lingering over him. A few months ago, Hajime would have nearly collapsed from relief. He would have savored this sliver of peace in his hands. Instead, Silence felt synonymous with Emptiness.

Hajime roughly exhaled through his nose.

And perhaps, synonymous to Loneliness as well.

When Hajime felt the spark return to his fingers and mind, he hardly hesitated to return to frantically typing out line after line after line of code. He couldn't let the opportunity pass him. No matter how misplaced it felt.

It was odd really, getting to be so intimate with a man designed to be his replacement. But in the end as Hajime grew closer and closer by force he also realized there was an unnerving but comforting truth in their relationship. Hajime and Izuru were two parallel lines, similar in so many aspects that they nearly held the same formula, the same meaning. There was an inherit understanding of one another, and where they were heading. Despite the fact that Izuru was meant to be perfect where Hajime was flawed, Hajime couldn't help but be reminded of his younger self when he finally got to see Izuru in action.

But despite the parallelism that binded them together, there was a truth that could not be ignored. There would always be a distance between the two. No matter how close they became, they were asymptotic curves, they were parallel lines, they were never going to cross.

“... Do not ignore these valid critiques. I do encourage you to attempt such a feat, but you should be aware of what will never be.”

Hajime shook his head. He could feel the heartbeat pulsing within, he could feel the cold hand holding his on a summer morning, he could see the sweetest smile that sent sparks down his spine. She lay dormant under his fingertips, pressed between the little crevices of the keys. All he had to do was piece her back together, and then he would get to hear her say his name again.

He was pulled away from that image, as the cold bitter points reiterated themselves once again.

“AI by design is something difficult to replicate as it is ever changing and ever learning.”

“I know that.”

“As it learns, it changes how it will react to the information given to it in the future, which further shapes the AI. If this is true, it is nearly as difficult to recreate as a human consciousness, where each individual factor greatly shaped one's personality.”

“Ok. Cool.”

“And you do not have the original files that Nanami Chiaki-san was trained on.”

"I know."

“Even if you were to show this fabrication of a fabrication the killing game files, that would only offer the AI to train on it from a perspective outside of what the original Nanami-san experienced.”

“I know.”

“Then you must know that this could never be her.”

Hajime attempted to hide the burn of his tears from the

only

one

he couldn't hide them from.

In that moment, Izuru felt like a hand awkwardly hovering over his shoulder. Asymptotic. Parallel. Why oh why did they leave their Ultimate Hope so emotionally empty? What purpose did that serve? Why did they take that from IzuruHajime?

"I… simply cannot comprehend why you would willingly put yourself in the shoes of Sisyphus."

Hajime saw sparks in his vision with how roughly he kneaded his fists against his eyes. "I don't know what that means."

"This is a task that is clearly emotionally taxing for you. You have not slept or eaten properly since attempting it. I have been the one taking care of our body in your stead. One could consider this some form of self-inflicted torture. And yet you continue to push through it, while being fully aware of the impossibility of the task. All to bring her back."

"You said it yourself," Hajime mumbled, forcing himself back into those shoes. He continued typing, with a pain in his heart that felt akin to working with blistering burns on his fingertips. "I have hope. Or whatever."

"I feel as though I still don't fully understand hope."

"Did you even understand despair?" Hajime spat.

And loneliness answered.

"You can't understand what we had, either. You weren't there."

Hajime could feel the subtle rustle of Izuru's trademark annoyance, something only noticeable to someone sharing the same brain. Even Izuru lacked the emotional foresight to recognize the bristling emotion, no matter how muddled.

"I understand plenty. As the Ultimate Analyst-"

"It wasn't a statistic, it was a relationship. You couldn't understand. The only person you ever bonded with was Enoshima fucking Junko."

Count to ten. Count to ten.

Hajime didn't realize how shaky his breath had become, how furious his typing seemed. For all the bonding he and Izuru did after the Neo World Program there was still a part of Hajime that feared and resented him.

"... I believe that I did quite like the Nanami AI program."

But Hajime also pitied him.

"Did you even know her?"

"It wasn't long. We met for just one small conversation before I plugged the Enoshima Junko AI into the Neo World Program."

"So she knew…?"

"No. I temporarily shut her off before uploading it."

"Kamukura…" Hajime floundered to understand the point of all this. He just wanted to work. To create. To craft. To rebuild. He wanted her back. A part of him wondered if he was playing god but another part of him didn't care at all. He was willing to break all the rules if it meant there was a chance they could meet again.

Everyone else got a chance.

Izuru's voice was as bland as ever, but lined with softness that called his attention, "I understand why you want to rebuild her."

Hajime pursed his lips, "You're not going to tell me you want her rebuilt cuz she's some. Savant tech or something, right?"

"When I brought Enoshima Junko into the Neo Word Program, it was a test."

Hajime did roll his eyes this time. "You've told me this before."

Izuru had no clue on the proper standings of Hope vs Despair. He only knew the nonsense both Hope's Peak Academy and Enoshima Junko threw his way. With two extreme ends of the spectrum lining his vision, he found himself with a scenario he could not predict. He knew, but did not understand why, that Hajime would be placed into the game in his stead. And, he also knew that by placing Enoshima within his path he'd be creating the Ultimate Trial By Fire.

Hajime was proof Enoshima was wrong. Hajime was proof that hope could be just as powerful. Hajime was proof of the impossible. Hajime was the contradiction.

"You have a penchant for proving me wrong." Izuru said. "Perhaps you can do it again."

Maybe Izuru did understand Hajime's desperate desire, just a little bit.

After all, Izuru's photographic memory left him with an unexplainable moment to look back on. A moment he did not understand, yet could not stop reviewing.

Because of course, he remembered talking to the Neo World Program’s AI very briefly.

And even more unfathomable, he remembered quickly deciding to temporarily shut her off before uploading the Enoshima Junko AI. For what purpose? It's easy to find reasons after the fact: in case she had any safety protocols, so that she did not alert anyone of the unwanted addition, so she did not attempt to remove the file.

Izuru was the only one who knew he did it as an odd, questionable act of mercy.

He didn't think he would ever truly be able to pick apart the why's of his decision, none of it made a lick of sense. What mercy would Chiaki have truly been granted? She still would have been within the program, knowing something was wrong. She still ended up deleted, after watching multiple people she was entrusted to protect die. She left this world believing she had intrinsically failed at what she was supposed to do.

So what mercy had Izuru fooled himself into believing for that fraction of a second? So she wouldn't blame herself for the upload? So there was nothing she could have done?

Why had he even done anything in the first place? Why her?

Was it because they were both man-made creatures of hope? Nothing more than a programmable personality, the most useful tool available to their creators yet easily replaceable. Was it because neither of them were real people? Was it because, despite everything he had allowed to happen, she was happy to see him?

Or was it because the very circumstances of their births led them down a long, cursed, unlucky life?

Izuru was supposed to be a man made God. Izuru was intrinsically programmed to be able to do anything. To be even meaningless things like lucky. And yet, he wasn't. Even know, he finds himself with one of his first foggy thoughts of desire and he could not act on them. He was a God that couldn't create a miracle.

Hajime though? He was more than just lucky. He was sci-fi. He was fiction. He was the labyrinth. He was the impossible. The unknowable. The unpredictable. He was living proof that Nanami Chiaki could be reborn. His consciousness was tossed away like an outdated file, scraped and deleted without a single care. He was erased, destroyed, burned, mutilated. Murdered by his own design.

But here he stood.

He should have never been able to come back. Yet here he was, existing in a way that even Kamukura Izuru couldn’t fully understand. It was knowable, but not explainable. Why then, if this state of rebirth could exist for Hajime, could it not be extended to others? She at one point existed in this world in similar contradictory limbo, both alive and dead. Both sentient and programmed. Both human and fake. The question then was, if Hajime could survive through that same limbo, why can't she? If Hajime, a man who lived a majority of his life lacking any special traits, can be worthy of a second chance, then why can’t she?

He was proof of her existence.

“Hinata-kun?”

And she was proof of his.

[sentenceme-leni]

Day 63. Sunday. Minimum 7 sentences.

---

"Rumpelstiltskin!"

Belle gathered her skirts and sprinted across the hall toward the stairs that would take her to the laboratory.

"Rumpelstiltskin!"

She was about to shout his name for a third time when her body collided against an unexpected obstacle. Arms held onto her before she rolled back down the stairs, and once she realized Rumpelstiltskin had come meet her midway, she grabbed onto him with a sigh of relief.

"Belle!" Golden eyes peered over her with frantic concern. "Are you all right?"

"I'm fine," she reassured him quickly. "But Jefferson's neighbors are here." Her hand was already pulling at his arm, tugging him back the way she had come. "They have brought Grace. Or, Grace has brought them. Anyway! They say Jefferson has been missing for weeks!"

Eager to bring Rumpelstiltskin downstairs and solve matter as soon as possible, she missed the flash of hesitation that crossed his face.

She only noticed he wasn't following her plan when he brought the two of them to a halt long before they reached the main hall.

"Belle, sweetheart," he started soothingly, "This is the Hatter. He's probably just exploring some new world."

Belle shook her head. "Not for this long. Not without telling Gracie."

"He's never been the most responsible of men..."

"About silly stuff, sure."

"Are we even talking about the same man?" Rumpelstiltskin hissed. "He left you behind on a haunted island!"

"For the last time, I asked him to leave." Both knew she was lying, but Rumpelstiltskin didn't have proof and Belle refused to judge another father whose priority was to return to their kid. "I was perfectly fine!"

He glared at her.

Belle glared back. This was an emergency, and here they were, wasting time instead of searching for their friend! "Rumpelstiltskin, if you're trying to tell me that Jefferson wouldn't move heaven and earth to be with his child, don't waste your breath."

He caught her elbow when she would have continued their way downstairs. "Wait. Belle, please wait!" She turned around and gave him an impatient look. He licked his lips before speaking. "What if he's been... detained?"

Belle's blue eyes widened. Even though there were still a few flights of stairs before their destination, she lowered her voice. "What do you know?"

"I don't know anything," he started, and sighed when Belle tightened her jaw at the deflection. "Not for certain, I swear."

"What don't you know, then?"

"Regina has her father back with her."

Belle made the connection instantly. "You think your star student left my friend with the Queen of Hearts?"

"I'm not certain!" Rumpelstiltskin reiterated, always flustered at any mention of Regina's mother. Tough. "There are several ways to rescue an old man from Wonderland."

"And Regina would pick the easiest," Belle shot back. It would be so simple for Jefferson to point the portal to Henry. After securing her father, Regina wouldn't hesitate to put him in Jefferson's place through the portal back home. The hat was powerful, but it only registered the number of people allowed through, not their identity. "Wonderland, Rumple! We cannot leave him there."

Rumpelstiltskin grabbed her shoulders. "No, Belle. Whatever you're thinking, we are not putting a foot in that damned place."

Belle wasn't a fool. The Queen of Hearts was as cruel as she was powerful. The whole of her realm answered to her whim, and even the Dark One would be forced into the games and riddles that plagued that land.

She shuddered to think of Jefferson, devoid of any power, stuck in that hellish place.

"We may not go," she conceded despite her fervent wish to spite Regina's mother. She would only be a distraction, or worse, a hostage again. "But you are bringing him back."

"We are not even sure..."

"I'll research first. I figure I'll ask Regina and she'll gloat over the whole thing." Belle said confidently. "A bit of blood from Grace should be enough guidance, even if you land in a labyrinth."

"Is there a reason you want him back so badly?"

"Don't be stupid," she snapped. Of all the times to poke about her love life! "This is on you anyway." That made him blink in confusion. Belle explained, "If you didn't want me to care about your friend, you shouldn't have introduced us."

"But, Belle..."

"Rumpelstiltskin, there is a child in your castle who loves her papa very much." She watched him close his mouth and straighten, something like determination coming into his eyes. Belle pressed his hand between hers, gentling her voice as she continued, "You of all people will do your utmost to recover that father. Won't you?"

His mouth twisted into a scowl, but he didn't yank his hand away from her grasp. "You don't play fair, milady."

Belle stepped closer and held his gaze. Then she sank into a perfect curtsey. "I thank you for the compliment."

Rumpelstiltskin chuckled. "I'm a bad influence."

Starting her way downstairs, she tugged him along. "Yes. Going to the rescue of our friend. You're such a nightmare."

The End

02/06/24