#which seems counterproductive in the long run

[vanishingmoments]

Didn't realize till recently that mean-girl feminism is still alive in 2023.

[lucyandthepen]

last young renegade | jjh

summary: your valentine’s day plans with jaehyun may have gone down the drain just a little. (okay — a lot.)

pairing: jaehyun x reader verse: canon, idol!verse rating: t warnings&tags: reader & jaehyun are in an established relationship, quite frankly there is nothing too out of the ordinary in this fic which is a shocker, it’s a rewritten fic so pls excuse any errors I may not have caught! word count: 5.02k

a/n: happy 2024 friends and family !!!!!! and advanced happy birthday to the man who created valentine’s day, he who is perhaps my first love in nct, jaehyun! this is actually just a fic I’ve been hoping to re-write a bit from before, and since it’s valentine’s themed, what better time to post it!! Enjoy enjoy, and may this year bring more fun, laughs, love (and debauchery) to this blog!

Yᴏᴜ sᴀɪᴅ ʏᴏᴜ'ʀᴇ sɪᴄᴋ ᴀɴᴅ ᴛɪʀᴇᴅ ᴏғ ɪᴛ, ʙᴜᴛ ɪ ɴᴇᴇᴅ ʏᴏᴜ ᴍᴏʀɴɪɴɢ, ɴɪɢʜᴛ, ᴀɴᴅ ᴅᴀʏ.

♡ jaehyunnie ♡ I know I said birthday dinner but practice is running so late ㅠㅠ ♡ jaehyunnie ♡ Can we meet after? I’m sorry ㅠㅠㅠㅠㅠㅠ How about I call you when we’re done? Maybe 11:30?

At times like this, you often wonder if it’s all worth it.  

You know thinking that way is counterproductive, not to mention a little unfair. You knew exactly what to expect, getting into an under-wraps relationship with an idol, and so far, it’s lived up to most of your assumptions, and then some. It doesn’t help that Jaehyun, even just by name, tends to attract an unbelievable amount of attention. You know you can’t blame him; it’s not like he wants to be high on the radar every time, either. For some reason, though, you seem to be looking for something or someone to blame, which you also know is a dead end. You have no one to pin the blame onto apart from yourself by frequently generating doubts that keep your mind running around in circles.  

It’s not even the sneaking around that gets tiring; it’s the waiting — waiting on calls, waiting on free time, waiting on a good opportunity to do something that doesn’t involve him suddenly getting pulled out to attend to one of many of his celebrity responsibilities. Over the last few years that you’ve dated, NCT has only ever gotten more popular; with that popularity came the fact that the public eye was trained on them, focusing on every microscopic detail of their lives. Jaehyun hates that more than anything, which is why he’s given up on trying to avoid it by practically escaping it altogether, locking himself up in the dorm with you when he has his precious few days off. 

While it’s true that you definitely don’t miss having to play espionage when going out for a cup of coffee with him, you’ve also managed to memorize every single inch of Jaehyun’s room, which isn’t good for your mentality, you’re pretty sure. You have to keep reminding him to open the window whenever the both of you are in there, because all you do is stay in and watch English movies without subtitles to see who can understand the most without asking questions (obviously, he always wins) while eating food he runs up and down the stairs to get every other hour. And while him trying to imitate the British accents on these shows is genuinely funny, you’re starting to suspect even he’s starting to get tired of watching Harry Potter over and over again. Twenty hours sounds like a long time unless you spend every twenty-hour period you have together marathoning the exact same films. Much to both of your disappointment, your suggestion to watch it totally out of order did not make it cooler.

Still, you suppose it’s not all bad. Jaehyun also taught you how to play Fortnite on a couple of his days off back to back, and while you hadn’t been as good a player as you both had hoped, he’d still patiently waited for you every time you got lost on the map. He’d even given you his account’s password with the sentiment that this was him ‘taking things to the next level with you,’ and you get to log into his account and play whenever you want; he doesn’t even get mad when you’ve wasted all the stuff he’s farmed on your subpar gaming skills. And, well, the bigger picture was that you loved him. Based on how much effort he put into the relationship, plus the bonus of his trust in you when it came to his Fortnite account, you could at least be confident in that he returned the sentiment.  

Except, sometimes, you still wonder if it would be easier for the both of you if he flew solo and didn’t have a girlfriend that tanked all of his player’s ammo and health kits and generally made a fool out of his cute little avatar while he was out breaking his back onstage.  

You aren’t sure if Jaehyun’s been noticing the turmoil in you; you’re not that good at hiding how you feel, anyway, but if he has, he hasn’t said anything thus far. You do observe how much more he texts you when he has free time, which makes you feel doubly bad, because you know that he’s spending precious minutes he could be resting with on talking to you instead, which isn’t the best trade-off for someone who’s constantly busy — and thereby constantly tired — like him.  

♡ jaehyunnie♡ ___________ I’m going to practice again, okay? Wait for my call ㅠㅠ You I’ll wait for your call ♡ ♡ jaehyunnie♡ I love you ㅠㅠㅠㅠ ♡ jaehyunnie♡ You love me too — a lot, right? I’ll keep my phone now, but I’ll make sure to check that you said so. ㅋㅋㅋ You Right! ㅎ I love you a lot! ♡

When the clock hits 12:01, and your phone is silent, your mind starts working on overtime again. It’s only when the special ringtone you’ve set for him comes to life at half-past midnight that you break your train of thought and put on your socks so you can meet Jaehyun at your front door.  

You’ve made a rule — sort of like a deal — between the two of you that apologies aren’t necessary when work holds you up. You’ve cashed in on that deal a couple of times, but you’re both aware that it’s more for Jaehyun’s sake than anything else, and he keeps to his word on that much when you open the door and duck into his car. All he does is smile at you, and you smile back, and for the rest of the car ride, everything seems okay.  

He always asks you about your day — unfailingly, at any chance he can. It’s never an off-handed question, either; Jaehyun takes great pride in his memory, and the sweetest thing about him is that he’s dedicated a good deal of it to knowing almost everything about you. Right now is no different. He asks you about your team manager, what you had for lunch; he grills you on if you took your vitamins today and if you got to break in the new shoes you bought online — the ones you’d been pining over for the last three months. He even asks you about the guy from the neighboring department who keeps asking you out for after-work drinks.  

“He wanted to go to Hongdae tonight,” you tell him as he slows for a red light. “There’s some new pub of his friend’s doing a soft opening there tonight.”  

“You could have gone.” He keeps his eyes on the road. “I wouldn’t have minded.”  

“I didn’t want to.”

“Good.” He glances at you, a grin slowly spreading on his lips. “Because I lied. I might have minded a little. Or, you know, a lot.”  

“Don’t tell me after all these years, you’ve turned into the kind of boyfriend that doesn’t let his girlfriend go out without him.”

“That’s impossible for me, and you know that,” he chuckles. “You can do whatever you want, whenever you want. Just not with that guy from the other department.”

“Don’t worry.” You tinker with the little charm dangling on your phone — half of a flat, metal heart dangling from a gold chain that Jaehyun had given you two years back on your birthday. He keeps the other half, but since he can’t freely attach it to any of his belongings, he keeps it wedged between the back of his phone and its case. You like watching him change the backing because he does it so carefully, like he’s worried the other half of the heart is going to break if he rips off the case willy nilly. “I told him my boyfriend and I were going out on a date tonight, so he backed off. Although he did wonder why I keep talking about a boyfriend he’s never seen.”

“And? What did you say?”

“I said it was none of his damn business.”  

Jaehyun laughs loudly, and you go along with him, but you don’t miss how tired he looks when he sobers down, the green light illuminating all the shadows on his face as he steps on the gas again.

Nothing good is open this late at night — that is, nothing you haven’t seen before. You hadn’t even expected to go out at all, but since it was the day before Valentine’s Day as well as his birthday (or it would have been, if you hadn’t waited until midnight), Jaehyun had wanted to do something special without having to run into a huge crowd of couples on the day itself. Your only option is this from-out-of-town carnival that’s set up in tents and even has a medium-sized ferris wheel by the edge of the metal barricade. The parking lot is practically empty when Jaehyun pulls into a slot; you joke that he should break one rule and park in two slots, which he smugly replies to by saying he couldn’t park badly even if he tried.  

He tucks your hair back behind your ears as he loops the strings of a face mask around them, using another one for himself. Between that and the brim of his cap, you can barely see his eyes. The only knowledge that you have that you’re walking next to the man you love is that he takes your hand in his, slender fingers finding their way between yours.  

The carnival is half-closed when you get to the middle of it; there are still a few stragglers, but half the kiosks have their lights off already. There’s a woman dressed in flashy clothes standing on a patch of dead grass a few feet away, and she’s holding a hoop that a ginger cat is jumping through. Jaehyun steers you to them, and you stand there for a good five minute watching the cat roll on the ground and stand on its hind legs, but you can tell it’s been going it at for most of the day because at one point, it just ignores the lady, opting to weave its way between Jaehyun’s and your legs instead. You do have a pretty good time when he picks it up and cradles it in his arms so you can pet it for a second, but it just hisses when its owner approaches and jumps out of his hold, disappearing behind a row of trash bins.  

Jaehyun doesn’t have anything in his wallet apart from his credit cards and 50,000 won, and the coin machine operator says he only has enough coins left to break down 5,000 won for the games, so you end up having to jog back to his car so you can fish out some coins from inside his glove compartment. You come up with a grand total of 1,500 won, and you have to sheepishly go back to the coin machine operator to change four 100 coins and a couple of 50s just to get the last 500. Jaehyun tells you to hold onto the three coins so he doesn’t run off with them entirely and leave you destitute.  

You learn you can only do three things at most — you dedicate 500 won for the Ferris wheel entry tickets, which leaves you with 500 won each. The both of you agree on choosing one kiosk to play in, and with only about five left that are open, you don’t really have that many options. You end up dragging Jaehyun over to a stall with a pond filled with those magnetic toy fish, but 500 won only gets you one fishing rod. Since it’s your choice, Jaehyun lets you play, but you feel kind of stupid doing it on your own with him just watching you. In the end, he decides to stand behind you, his arms around your waist like he thinks closer contact isn’t even more distracting. You do manage to fish out 10 fish and win a small bear on a keychain. It doesn’t even pass through your hands as Jaehyun takes it from the stall operator immediately. 

“That’s mine!” You whine, reaching out in vain to take it from him; he just holds it high over his head. His eyes are twinkling under the shadow his cap casts over his face. “I worked hard for that.”  

“Let me keep this one,” he mimics the pleading lilt in your voice. “I’ll put it on my bag.”

“You know you can’t! Give it back.”

“I’ll win you a bigger one,” he promises. “Let me keep this one. It’s cute. It reminds me of you. I’ll kiss it goodnight before I sleep.” He starts to laugh softly. “And then you’ll feel this weird spirit kissing you at like two in the morning, and you’ll know it’s me.”  

Your arms aren’t long enough to retrieve it, and you don’t really want to, so you settle with twisting his ear. He takes it in stride even if he over-acts, making pained noises while leading you to the kiosk he wants to go to. It’s a shooting range stall, and he pays his own precious 500 won for a dart gun. He’s barely paying attention when the guy starts explaining how many points are assigned to each balloon color, more concerned with talking to the bear keychain in his hand and pretending like he’s cooing at you. You have to hit him across the shoulder to get him to focus.  

“You need to start picking out what prize you want,” he tells you — the actual you, not the animal keychain version — as he lifts the dart gun.  

“I’ll wait for you to finish first.”  

“No way.” He tilts his head, closing one eye to steady his line of sight. “Pick already. Or just go for the biggest one.”

“You know that Fortnite and dart guns aren’t the same thing, right?”  

“Yeah, but I’m well-motivated.” He grins at you, one eye still shut. He looks like a baby pirate. “Go ahead. Pick the biggest one.”

“Why don’t you just shoot, and we’ll see.”  

“Pick it,” he insists. “Tell me you have faith in me. Tell me you love me.”

“Okay, I love you,” you agree. “But I have no faith in you when it comes to this.”  

“One out of two is fine,” he concedes, taking aim.  

All three of you, including the stall operator, let out a disappointed groan when he misses his first shot. His comes with a sheepish laugh as he reloads, suddenly telling you to pick the second biggest prize instead. You can’t even watch him miss over and over, so you pretend to be interested in a bunch of teenage boys playing a game of cups one stall over, trying not to giggle when you hear him get increasingly more frustrated at himself. When you turn back around, you notice he’s holding two small pieces of gummy candy, offering one to you like a kindergartener. He helps you tug your face mask down so you can eat it.  

There’s a food stall nearby that, thankfully, accepts credit and debit; Jaehyun fishes out his card to get you a corndog — only one because he’s watching his weight for the upcoming concert, apparently. This is information you hate hearing but have no say in, and he knows this; you know he does because he says ‘don’t worry about me’ totally out of the blue, like five minutes after the conversation ceases to be relevant.  

His phone starts ringing when the food comes out, and he takes a tiny bite of it — more bread than hotdog — before he answers. You know it’s Taeyong by the way he answers.  

“Hyung, sorry — can we talk later? I’m out with ____________.”  

Taeyong says something loud but indiscernible on the other end. You piece together that it’s about tomorrow’s schedule when Jaehyun speaks again.

“I know. I’ll be home in a bit; don’t worry about it. I haven’t forgotten.”  

There’s more garbled speech on the other line; Jaehyun gestures for you to keep eating, and you do, but you more concerned with the morphing expressions on his face than you are with the act of chewing. He’s making noncommittal noises in response to what seem to be commands and reminders. You’re pretty much done with the corndog by the time he says ‘Okay, hyung. Hyung — I’ll see you later, okay?’

“Taeyong hyung says hi,” he tells you once he’s hung up the phone. “He says you still need to give back that book you borrowed from him last year.”  

“Oh yeah,” you finish off the last of the food. “I’ll drop it off within the week.”  

“Don’t worry about it. He doesn’t actually mean it.”  

Jaehyun watches you snap the stick in half and toss it in the trash bag.  

“We can go home,” you say finally. His eyebrows shoot up. “You’re busy tomorrow. I forgot.”

“I didn’t forget, and it’s fine.”  

“It’s almost two in the morning.” You check your phone to verify. “You probably have to be up in a few hours. You need to sleep, or you’ll die, Jaehyun. I’m too young to be a grieving widow.”

“Let’s at least ride the Ferris wheel,” he suggests. Before you can protest, he tugs you towards the rickety contraption, digging the 500 won out of your pocket and handing it to the bemused operator. He lets you choose what carriage you want because literally no one is on it anymore, and Jaehyun asks for the best carriage. You’re not sure how it differs from the rest, but he makes a show out of guiding you into it, and you don’t miss the corny ‘my lady,’ he mutters under his breath.   

It’s small, clearly meant for either a tiny group of children or couples who want to be as close together as possible. It’s also not air-conditioned, and only one of the windows is open, so you end up sticking to Jaehyun’s arm on the way up. The view is still great, though, and you feel his hand settle on your knee as the carriage makes it slow ascent.  

The ride up is quiet, and you press your face as close to the glass of the carriage as you dare, but Jaehyun doesn’t move an inch. His hand is still heavy on your thigh, but it doesn’t do anything but lay there. When you’re close to the top, you’re hit with the urge to do something romantic — kiss, maybe, tell him happy birthday, or say ‘I love you’ to him in the most sickening way possible — but when you turn to look at him, you have to hold your tongue.

Jaehyun is asleep, leaning against the corner of the carriage, head tilted down a little. His shoulders are rising and falling slowly, and he’s pulled down his face mask a little so he can breathe better; his lips are slightly parted by the slackening of his jaw. His left hand is shoved in his pocket, like he’d passed out halfway through reaching for something in there.  

He doesn’t wake even when you move slightly so you can lean back next to him, rocking the carriage a little — not even when you reach up and adjust his head so he can rest on your shoulder. He breathes deeply, evenly, and you wonder if his ear against your shoulder allows him to hear your heart plummet unfairly to the bottom of your stomach.  

You have to shake him to rouse him when the ride comes to an end; when he opens his eyes and realizes what happened, he looks mortified. Instinctively, he opens his mouth, but you fling the carriage door open and step out before he can apologize.

You have a deal, and he knows what he shouldn’t be doing.

His grip on your hand is much tighter as you walk back to the parking lot, and he doesn’t let go, even on the road. The trip back is quieter, maybe because it’s late, or maybe because there are a ton of things the both of you want to say but can’t.  

He slows down when he gets to your street, but when he stops in front of your building, he doesn’t immediately unlock the doors to let you out. Instead, he turns to you, licking his lips a little nervously.

“Can you…” he clears his throat because his voice cracks a little on the first attempt. “Can you come back with me? To the dorm?”  

“I have work tomorrow, Jaehyun.”  

“It’s still at eleven, isn’t it? I can bring you home before that. You still have some stuff in my room. You can get ready there.”

“Won’t you be too busy?”  

“Just—” he sighs softly. “Can you? Please?”  

You don’t know how to say no to Jaehyun, and tonight isn’t a night you’re willing to try. It’s why fifteen minutes later, you’re walking through the front door of his dorm. Donghyuck, sitting at his computer in his room with the door ajar, greets you sleepily as you pass by.  

Jaehyun steps in the shower with you; you don’t talk, maybe because you’re worried you might wake the others up if you start a full-blown conversation in a bathroom surrounded by other bedrooms. He just passes you what you need, and you do the same for him, and somewhere in between, he kisses you under the spray of the water.  

Later, he falls asleep with a face mask on, and you have to peel it off for him and toss it into the trash. The tip of his nose is shiny, and you want to kiss it, but you know it’ll wake him, and you noticed he’d set his alarm to go off two hours from now. He’s set out a couple of earplugs for you so that you don’t hear it, but you don’t put them in. You want to see him before he leaves, even if it’s in the deadest hours of morning, so you just crawl into bed with him. A minute before you doze off, you feel his damp skin press against your neck, his form curled up against your back.  

The alarm never wakes you; the sun is out when you open your eyes, and when you check your phone, you see that it’s already half-past nine. You also notice that there’s nothing from Jaehyun on your screen, but you try not to dwell on that, considering that you’d been expecting to wake up to an empty bed. His side of the mattress is cold, which means that he’s been gone for some time.  

You don’t know if it’s just because you’re groggy, but your insides still feel like lead when you sit up. The part of you that nags about this relationship is back at full force when you start thinking about Jaehyun going to a pre-recording two hours after spending the last of his energy on you. You start wondering if you’re doing the right thing if it feels like you’re just dragging him down. Your heart clenches tightly when the worst thought hits — maybe, just maybe, he’s tired of you, too.

But you won’t let him go. More to the point — you can’t. He’s the best part of your life; it’d be a cold day in hell if you decided to leave him.

Even the thought of it makes you feel like dying.  

Then again, this isn’t all up to you.  

You’re rubbing the sleep out of your eyes — and maybe a couple of frustrated tears — when the door creaks open. You see two mugs and his hands before you see the rest of him come through the doorway. Jaehyun whispers a careful good morning as he sets the coffee down on his table, making sure to push his keyboard away to avoid accidents, before sitting down next to you. You notice that there’s an envelope next to one of the mugs; the flap is slightly open, and from under it, a flash of red peeks out.  

His hand finds its way back to your knee — it’s his favorite resting place, he’s told you once. Your lap feels like home, he’d joked. Maybe he touches it every so often because it’s like a reset button for him.  

He doesn’t ask if you slept well, or if you want to get ready before having your coffee, or if you’re okay. He just squeezes your knee a little tighter. It’s you that has to start the conversation this time.

“How did it go?”

“It went great. You’ll see it on TV later tonight,” he starts rubbing your thigh idly. “You’ll watch it later, right?”  

“Of course. I’ll call you and tell you how cool you look.”  

He smiles, but it doesn’t reach his eyes. When you lapse into silence again, it’s because you’re expecting him to say something, but he doesn’t come out with it directly. You try not to let it show that you’re worried, that you’re skeptical, that you’re wondering if he thinks he’s too tired, too busy for this, too.  

You’re expecting him to start how most break-ups start. You know I love you, right? And then the telltale but… would come, and you would have to hold back your tears and smile for him, and tell him you know, and that you understand it isn’t the right time, but maybe one day, someday, when he isn’t everyone’s Jung Jaehyun anymore — only yours.  

“You love me, right?”  

It’s not what you’d been expecting. Nor is it the playful little text he’d sent — no laughs, no jokes. His expression is somber, mouth pressed into a thin line.  

“You know I do.”

“A lot, right?”

“A lot,” you confirm softly.  

“Then whatever it is that you’re thinking about us,” he says quietly. “Don’t. Don’t think it. Don’t do it.”  

“Jaehyun—”

“I know it’s hard,” his fingers dig into your skin a little. “I know I put you through a lot. I know you think that I’m suffering because of this relationship too. I know everything. But whatever you think I’m going to do, I won’t do it — not ever. So if you’re thinking of it too, I’m begging you. Don’t. Please.”  

Maybe he had noticed all this time. A wave of guilt washes over you when you see the pained look on his face; perhaps you were even more transparent than you’d originally thought. You nod slowly to show your understanding, and he continues.  

“I know yesterday wasn’t the best you could have hoped for,” he carefully avoids apologizing, although it’s written all over his features. “For me, too. I… I wanted something different. It’ll be better next time. Do you believe me?”  

You hear him swallow — his nails are biting into your thigh a little, so you have to gently peel his hand off. Your fingers replace it, tightening around his palm as you nod.

“I believe you.”  

“And you trust me, right?”

“With my life.”  

“Then can you put your faith in me right now?” He asks. “Don’t panic. Just — just say yes.”

He pats around his pants, finally deciding to slip his hand into his left-hand pocket. Unlike on the Ferris wheel, he manages to extract something, but he keeps it closed in his fist. It’s shaking a little as he takes your hand in his other one, pressing something small and hard into your palm before he curls your fingers over it. His hold keeps your fist closed as he starts talking.

“It’s not immediate. We’ll figure it out. We’ll tell the right people, and they’ll help us tell everyone else — the public, the press. It doesn’t have to happen right now, or any time soon either— not if you don’t want it to. We can take it slow, or whatever. Anything you want — just as long as it’s with me.”  

“Jaehyun,” you shake your head, a little dizzy. “What are you talking about?”  

He slowly loosens his hold on your fingers, his hand dropping to the same spot on your knee. You’re free to open your fist, and when you do, you can’t help but feel a little stumped.

“I don’t mean now,” he repeats, now sounding doubly worried. “It’s not — It’s just…”  

“You’ll get in trouble. We can’t.”

“I won’t. Not if we do this right. Like I said, we can do it slowly. Months — years, however long it takes to do it well. What it is — it’s just… a promise.”  

“A promise,” you echo. It does have a nice ring to it.  

“That I’m not leaving you. Not ever. And… if you say yes, that you won’t either.”  

Your coffee has probably turned cold. Jaehyun is watching you carefully, looking like he’s trying hard not to bite his lip. You look back down at your hand, and he speaks up again.  

“You know I love you, right?”  

You smile slightly. “No but?”  

“No but,” he agrees.  

The ring fits nicely on your finger; maybe it’s well-measured from the amount of times he’s held your hand tightly in his.  

“Okay, Jaehyun,” you whisper. “I promise.”  

When you place your hand on his, he twists his palm, slender fingers gently twirling the ring around the base of your finger.  

Minutes later, he hands you your coffee. It’s sweet and milky, the way he knows you like it best. When he settles back down on the bed, you notice his eyes travel to your finger again, a small smile playing on his lips.  

Perhaps, in this moment, you finally learn to ask the right questions — not about if it’s worth it, but if he is.  

And in this moment, where he sits in silence with you, the sunlight pouring in from his window hitting the tips of his hair and the end of his nose, with the knowledge that his heart is as full as yours, you come to realize that there can — and never will be — any doubt of that.  

[helloalycia]

𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐅𝐈𝐑𝐒𝐓 𝐌𝐎𝐕𝐄 [𝐎𝐍𝐄] — 𝐉𝐀𝐂𝐊𝐈𝐄 𝐓𝐀𝐘𝐋𝐎𝐑

two / masterlist / wattpad

summary: when you break your arm in the plane crash, Jackie seems to be helping you out more than usual and you're left wondering why.

warning/s: mentions of a plane crash, amputation, broken bones.. the usual warnings that come with Yellowjackets lol.

author's note: this has been ready for a while now, as have a few other things whilst i work on some old requests. sorry for the delay with everything - i’ve been very busy, but i hope you like this two part jackie imagine :)

I could hear screaming and shouting, there was smoke everywhere and, despite my confusion, I knew I needed to get out of here before the smoke suffocated me.

Clipping off my seatbelt, I scrambled out of the aisle and briefly looked around, unable to make sense of anything, and then my head was spinning and I couldn't stay here any longer. Fresh air. I needed to breathe and then I could work out what was what.

Following the sound of screaming seemed counterproductive, but that was the way out, so I dragged my body – which felt like it had been thrown around in a blender – out the back of the plane and to... the middle of the forest?

The team. Some of them were running around, doing all sorts I couldn't seem to focus on, whilst others were bent over, catching their breath, appearing dazed and confused like me. I didn't get long to think about how I'd ended up here when, suddenly, someone shoved into me from behind and I fell forward, landing right on my outstretched arm.

A scream escaped my lips at the pain that struck, it breaking through the fog of confusion. I squeezed my eyes shut, tears pricking them instinctively, and tried to breathe through the pain. Pushing myself up with my other hand, I grimaced at the slight movement of my left arm, which had to be broken considering I couldn't do anything with it.

It wasn't until after all the chaos, after everybody had stopped screaming and vomiting and crying, that the realisation that our plane had crashed hit us. And by then, I was too preoccupied with my broken arm. Imagine coming out of a plane crash unscathed, only to get pushed down and left with a broken arm. Very stupid, indeed.

Surprisingly, Misty was the only one who could work under pressure, barely fazed by everything happening and instead tending to everyone's injuries as quickly as she could. Upon realising I'd broken my arm, she immediately made me her best attempt at a splint using some sticks and an old ripped shirt, as well as helping me into a makeshift sling using the same ripped shirt. Given the circumstances, it was as good as a cast, but she didn't know the extent of the damage and I couldn't do anything more.

The first two days were a struggle, mainly because nobody knew what to do nor where to go. That was when the horrible acceptance of losing several members of our team, including one of our coaches, hit everyone hard. We all pitched in to bury them, though I wasn't able to do much with my arm, and held a funeral for them.

After the funeral ended, everybody stuck together in the vicinity of the crash. A few lingered away, probably trying to figure out where the hell we were, but I just wanted a sense of familiarity and stayed to open my suitcase which I'd luckily found. Unfortunately for me, the zipper required two hands, and only one of mine seemed to be available right now.

"Hey."

I sighed, looking up to see Jackie Taylor, the soccer team captain, standing there with her arms hugging herself. I hadn't spoken to her properly since before we set off, she'd mostly just stuck with Shauna, her best friend.

"Hey," I greeted, unsure what she wanted.

She nodded to my terrible sling. "How's your arm?"

"Very painful," I admitted, "but coach literally lost his leg, so I can't complain."

She frowned at my words, but it wasn't exactly an exaggeration. Misty had quite literally chopped Coach Scott's leg off when he got it trapped under the wing of the plane, and it wasn't an easy thing to deal with physically or mentally. A broken arm was nothing compared to an amputation.

"How are you?" I asked. She didn't look hurt, just tired and scared like the rest of us.

She shrugged helplessly, and I didn't need any elaboration. I nodded, acknowledging her, and then she said, "Do you need help with whatever you're doing?"

I looked down, remembering the dumb suitcase I couldn't open. "That would be great actually, yes. Can you hold it whilst I unzip it?"

She nodded and kneeled down, acting as my other hand whilst I unzipped my suitcase. It was a relief to finally open it, seeing everything was as I'd left it before we boarded the plane. That felt like a lifetime ago now.

"If you need help with anything else, just ask," Jackie said, making me look up to see her watching me.

Grateful, I offered her a small smile. "Thanks, Jackie."

She returned the smile, though it didn't reach her eyes. She'd been the first to offer her help in the first place, since everyone was preoccupied by their own trauma, so I appreciated it. Truthfully, the last person I expected to offer help was Jackie, since she usually thought of herself first.

"You should get some medication off Misty," she added. "It'll help with the pain."

I swallowed hard, smile fading. "Right. Thanks."

She nodded and left, glancing at me once more as she did. I didn't really question it as I looked back at my suitcase, distracting myself from the pain.

Later that day, Misty found me instead, immediately pouring out the medication she'd collated from everyone's suitcases in front of me.

"Misty, what are you–?"

"I've got some pills for you," she said nonchalantly.

"Oh, my arm doesn't hurt that much," I lied. "Coach needs–"

"There's enough for Ben, silly," she said with a laugh, making me quirk a brow. "Besides, it's not for your pain, though it will help with that, it's for the inflammation. Without surgery, that's gonna take a while to heal and anything we have can help."

I sighed, nodding. "Alright. Thanks."

"I'll give you them every dose," she said, before holding out two pills. "Here you go."

I silently accepted them, knowing they'd help but feeling bad that I'd be taking them when Coach Scott needed them more.

—

Finding the lake and the cabin was a lifesaver, literally. We needed water and somewhere to sleep that wasn't so out in the open, and I was already struggling to sleep as it was so at least being inside made it a little easier.

Oddly enough, over the next few days since moving into the cabin, I'd noticed Jackie staring at me. If I ever caught her eye, she'd look the other way or flash me a smile before awkwardly doing something else. I wasn't sure what was up, and it only became more questionable when she'd help me out if I needed it.

There was one time when I was trying to pull my shoes on, but struggling to tie the laces with my one good arm.

"Here, I got it," she said, coming out of nowhere to lean down in front of me and take over.

I watched her with curiosity, letting her tie my laces. She must've caught me staring as she looked up, eyes bright as they met mine.

"What?" she asked, standing back up.

I shook my head. "Nothing... thanks."

She nodded, smiling a little before leaving me be. And that wasn't it. Other times I'd be trying to carry something and she'd take it from me without a word, or I'd be pulling on a shirt and she'd quite literally help me into it. It was odd, because she'd never paid me any mind before, and wasn't very helpful to others. The other girls aided me when they occasionally saw me struggling, but not as much as Jackie.

Another time, I was struggling to sleep in my makeshift bed on the floor of the cabin. Everybody had fallen asleep hours ago, but my movement was restricted because of my arm and the shuffling I was doing was only bothering me more.

"You move a lot," a voice said in the firelight, startling me.

I looked over the room, past my sleeping team members, and saw it was Jackie laying on her side next to Shauna but facing me.

"Sorry," I mumbled guiltily. "Did I wake you?"

She shrugged, not answering my question, before saying, "Try elevating your arm."

"What?"

"That's why you can't sleep, right?" she asked.

I blinked, surprised she'd even noticed. "Yeah."

She sat up slowly, stretching, before crossing the room to grab what looked like a jacket. My eyes followed her as she moved, then she rolled it up before kneeling down beside me and placing it underneath my bad arm. I winced as she did so carefully, glancing at me apologetically, but then I relaxed my arm on top of the jacket and breathed out slowly.

"Is that better?" she asked quietly. "Won't be touching the ground now."

I nodded. "Yeah. Thanks, Jackie."

"No problem," she said, before returning to her bed. "Goodnight."

"Goodnight," I replied, very tired and very confused.

That was when I knew I needed to ask her why she was being so considerate, so out of character, at least to me anyway. The next morning, after I'd done the one thing I could do with my arm which was collecting water from the lake when we needed it, I was bringing it to Akilah who was boiling it over the fire. Unfortunately, I tripped over a stone on the way, almost dropping the bucket. Jackie came out of nowhere, taking it from my hand and leaving it with Akilah before returning to me.

"You okay?" she asked with a raised brow, hand wavering over my arm.

I tilted my head curiously. "I– yeah. I just..."

She smiled with confusion, shaking her head. "What is it?"

I stared at her like she'd grown a second head. "Why do you keep helping me? Checking on me?"

She scoffed playfully, looking away before saying, "I'm still your captain. Gotta make sure the team's okay, right?"

I narrowed my eyes suspiciously, but I didn't have anything else to believe, so I gave in with a nod. "Yeah..."

"Take it easy," she said, eyes flickering to my arm before she left me.

—

Since we'd been stranded here, I'd only rinsed off in the lake once. That was a week ago when we found it, but I knew I needed to bathe properly and, after taking my shower gel, shampoo and conditioner, I headed for the lake. Washing my body was a struggle because of my arm, which had swollen so much to the point that even accidentally grazing my body with it sent a shot of pain in me.

I managed to wash my body the best I could, getting my tee-shirt sling wet but unable to do much else, then struggled to wash my hair. It was stupid, the fact that I couldn't even open a bottle of shampoo with one hand and squeeze it out. So much that I got overwhelmed with how useless I'd been feeling lately and threw it behind me onto the shore. Sulking, I stayed sitting in the water, submerged up to my legs in my bra and underwear.

I missed home. I missed my mum and my dad and my sister. I missed playing soccer. I even missed school. But most importantly, I missed having two working arms and not constantly being in pain. The longer we stayed out here, the more we established a routine, the less likely it felt we would be rescued. It was all piling on top of me, my uselessness being the cherry on top.

Staring out into the horizon, I frowned. Ten more minutes must have passed with me giving up on washing my hair when I heard footsteps not far behind me. I didn't bother turning around, but then whoever it was called me.

"Hey!"

Sighing deeply, I glanced over my shoulder, so fed up with everything that even my usual surprise at Jackie's presence didn't affect me.

"You not coming out?" she asked, stood at the edge of the water, hands on her hips.

I resisted the urge to roll my eyes and ignored her, looking forward again. Maybe she'd get the hint and leave me alone. Of course, she didn't.

"What's wrong?" she asked, and I pulled my knees up to my chest, hugging them.

"Nothing," I said, voice muffled.

I heard her sigh from behind me before her footsteps approached me, her feet splashing in the water.

"I'm bathing," I told her knowingly. "A little privacy would be nice."

She snorted with amusement before I heard her shuffling. Confused, I turned around and saw her pulling off her shorts before throwing them onto the rocky shore with her slippers, leaving her in her underwear and tee shirt.

"What are you doing?" I asked, puzzled.

She ignored me, instead grabbing the shampoo bottle I'd thrown back. Glancing at it and to me, she quirked a brow sarcastically. "This yours?"

I rolled my eyes and faced forward again, not bothering to acknowledge her presence as she seemed to be approaching me again. Only when she stood in front of me, blocking my view, and kneeled down to look at me was I forced to meet her gaze.

"D'you need help?" she asked softly, considerately.

Embarrassed, I looked down to my knees. Was it that obvious that I was struggling? Why was she the only one to check on me? The only one to notice? Why did she even care?

"Will you let me help you?" she asked when I didn't speak, and I finally looked up.

"Why?" I asked helplessly. "What's the point?"

She sat down cross-legged, unbothered by the water that was lapping against the bottom of her shirt. "For one, the smell in the cabin would go down significantly."

Realising she was joking, humour sparkling in her earth-coloured eyes, I scoffed and looked the other way. She began to laugh before patting my knee.

"Come on," she pleaded, laughter fading into a hopeful smile. "Please."

I didn't want anybody's help, especially not hers. But I needed it, and if she was being so kind as to come out here just to make sure I was okay, maybe it wasn't all so bad.

With a reluctant nod, I let her wash my hair for me, glad I wouldn't have to cause an ache in my other arm trying to do it. It was quiet as she did it, other than when she instructed me to dip my head in the water to wash out the shampoo and conditioner. Her fingers were delicate when she worked, massaging my head and putting me at ease instantly. I was still surprised at her aid, considering she'd always been preoccupied by herself or Shauna.

After I was done, she moved back in front of me, about to speak, but then her eyes caught sight of my swollen arm in my cast and widened.

"Woah, that looks painful," she noticed.

"Thanks," I said sarcastically.

"Are you taking the medicine Misty is giving you?" she asked with concern.

I tried not to hesitate as I nodded, lying. Truthfully, I hadn't been taking the medicine since a few days ago, as I knew Coach Scott's leg was at risk of infection if he didn't have enough. Besides, I'd taken some and the swelling had been going down. This was a bad day is all. Kind of.

"Okay, well...," she started, eyes lingering on my arm with an unreadable expression, before she stood up and held out her hand. "You're done. Come on."

I accepted her hand and she led me back to the shore, kindly helping me back into my clothes. After pulling her shorts and shoes on, I instantly hugged her with my good arm, certainly surprising her.

"Thanks, Jackie," I said sincerely, pulling back and seeing her raised eyebrows. "You don't know how good you're being."

She smiled, preoccupied. "Don't. I'm just helping."

I begged to differ, but she wasn't in the mood to hear it and I wasn't going to fight her on it. Instead, I just offered her a small smile before we both headed back to the cabin together.

Later that day, I was sat in the woods for some alone time, perched on a log and reading my book, when suddenly something was thrown right at me, startling me.

"What the hell?!" Jackie shouted, and I looked up to see she'd found me and was furious.

Confused, I looked to see what she'd thrown at me, only to realise it was the medication I hadn't been taking. Oh, no.

"You aren't taking it!" she shouted with exasperation.

I looked up to her, still baffled. "How did you even–”

"I'm not stupid," she snapped, before taking a deep breath to contain herself.

"It doesn't matter," I said calmly. "Coach needs them more. He's literally lost his leg and–"

"Why do you keep belittling your injury?!" she asked in a broken voice. "Nobody needs a hero, Y/N, just take the damn meds!"

The patronising tone she was using was it for me, and I suddenly stood up, unable to let her make me feel bad anymore.

"Why the hell do you even care, Jackie?" I retorted.

Taken aback, she raised her eyebrows before crossing her arms and avoiding my eyes. "I'm the cap–"

"Nobody gives a shit about that anymore!" I cut her off, before glaring at her. "You never paid me any mind before, so what gives now, huh? Did Jackie fucking Taylor suddenly grow a heart?"

She scoffed, rolling her eyes.

"Seriously, why the hell do you care all of a sudden?" I continued. "Why do you–?"

"Because it's my damn fault!" she said, and my anger was momentarily replaced by further confusion. She continued to ramble, "I didn't mean to, but the plane was on fire and Shauna was going to get hurt and I just rushed out of there without thinking and I didn't mean to push you and then you broke your arm and I feel guilty, okay?!"

Furrowing my brows, I studied her as she took a deep breath. Though she was stressed by her admission of guilt, I was oddly calm.

"That was just an accident," I said, unsure why it mattered to her so much. "If that's why you've been helping me, why you've been keeping an eye on me... you can stop. I'm not dying."

"Yeah, now," she said knowingly, guilt-laden eyes meeting mine, "but when a fucking bear comes out of nowhere and tries to eat you, what are you gonna do with one arm?"

It took me a second to realise she was dead serious, and I tried very hard not to smile.

"If a bear tried to eat me and I had my arm, I'd still get eaten," I said matter-of-factly. "You think I can take on a bear?"

She groaned with discontent. "You don't get it!"

I covered my mouth, struggling not to smile in front of her and piss her off more. She only fixed me with a classic Jackie glare.

"Just take the fucking meds," she said threateningly, in a way that was reminiscent of a cute dog barking, before storming off.

Admittedly, I had to pause and think about what the hell just happened, still a little lost. All this time, she'd been helping me out of guilt? She blamed herself for my broken arm? It was an accident and she couldn't have known what would happen. Tensions were high, it was chaos! I couldn't blame her even if I tried. It was almost laughable how she'd reacted, though at least it explained her sudden interest in my welfare.

When I returned to the cabin after her outburst, she glanced at me once but didn't bother speaking to me. And when I thought it would be a temporary thing, she began to ignore me over the next few days, actively avoiding me. If it weren't to share the cabin to sleep, she'd either completely leave the space I was in or go as far away from me as she possibly could. Could've been guilt, anger or embarrassment, I wasn't sure, but I knew it was extremely childish.

I was filling up a bottle of water from our basin when she rounded the corner and saw me, clearly wanting to do the same judging from her own bottle in hand. One glance my way and she was ready to leave, but I decided to make the first move after a week of not speaking.

"I'm not gonna bite," I pointed out.

She clenched her jaw with indifference. "I know."

A smile ghosted my lips as I focused on filling my bottle, and she surprisingly approached the basin and did the same. It was silent, the sound of our movement filling the air, but she was still tense beside me. It felt all wrong, especially after how supportive she'd been since we got here.

"I'm taking my medicine by the way," I said casually, but I wanted her to know that she hadn't wasted her breath. I'd listened.

"That's good," she spoke after a moment, trying not to sound too bothered.

"Yeah, I wasn't going to, but then this angry soccer player who was crushing under the immense guilt from foreshadowing my improbable yet supposedly imminent death by bear made me feel bad," I continued calmly.

She paused her action, glancing at me with a look of disbelief, and I couldn't hold in my laughter any longer. Her expression was priceless.

"Asshole," she muttered, but she was clearly trying not to smile.

I capped my bottle before saying, "This is awkward. Stop avoiding me, please. I don't hate you or anything. And you don't need to keep checking on me out of guilt. We can just... go back to normal, whatever that was."

She gave me a disapproving glance. "It wasn't just out of guilt."

I raised an eyebrow. "No?"

"Believe it or not, Y/N, I do care about you," she said, surprising me. And then she added quickly, "I care about everyone here."

Heart warming at her words, I began to feel bad for what I'd said to her when we argued. "Thanks," I said quietly. "And I'm sorry for what I said, about you suddenly growing a heart. Wasn't nice at all. Or true."

She shrugged awkwardly, looking down. "It's okay. I've been a bit selfish lately. I know the girls say it. Even Shauna thinks it.”

I looked over at her, noticing the conflicted expression she wore. Underneath her confident, cool girl demeanour was just a normal teenager like everyone else, and right now, she looked more and more like that.

"Not always," I reminded her, hoping she knew that I was still grateful for what she'd done for me since the crash, guilt or no guilt.

She exhaled softly, an appreciative smile on her lips, and I was beginning to question if breaking my arm was worth giving me a reason to get to know Jackie Taylor in a different way.

—

When there wasn't the threat of survival creeping up on us, or the fear of being stranded away from our lives back home forever, there was complete and utter boredom. There was only so many times you could play the same card games or read the same books without wanting to smack your head against a wall.

I realised soon enough that I missed playing soccer and one  day when I was having a wander near the cabin, I began to subconsciously kick around an acorn. That was where acorn soccer began. Now, whenever I was fed up doing the same thing all the time, I'd go into a little clearing near the cabin and start kicking around an acorn to have a sense of normalcy.

This time, as I was dribbling the acorn around some sticks, I heard someone approaching and glanced up to see it was Jackie.

"What are you doing?" she asked with both amusement and curiosity.

"Playing soccer," I said like it was obvious, before kicking the acorn in the air towards her. Instinctively, she caught it with her foot, stabilising it and letting it hit the ground gently. I cracked a smile, saying, "Someone's not lost their touch."

She rolled her eyes, a smile threatening to break out on her lips. "So this is where you disappear to?"

I quirked a brow. "Why? You keeping tabs?"

"You wish you were that interesting," she retorted, kicking around the acorn.

"Interesting enough for you to track down, clearly," I teased.

She glanced at me with a glint of humour in her eyes. "Maybe I just needed to make sure the bear didn't get you."

I grinned. "Aw, you do care! Nice to know you have my back."

At this, she finally let out a laugh, teeth showing and eyes sparkling and in such a way that I couldn't help but admire how pretty she looked right now.

"Okay, where's the goal?" she asked after a moment, pausing from kicking around the acorn.

"What?"

She gave me a look. "I'm bored too, now c'mon."

I chuckled and began to explain to her the unimpressive yet fulfilling setup I had, which consisted of me kicking the acorn between two trees as a 'net'. Once she was caught up, we found a bigger acorn together and began to play.

It was almost like we were back at soccer practice, playing and having fun and not having to worry about any impending doom. I'd forgotten how good it could feel to just be, and I'd especially forgotten how good Jackie was at soccer, making for the perfect opponent.

She scored for the third time and raised her hands in the air as she cheered for herself. "Hell yeah!"

"You see, this is why we got to nationals," I reminded her, making her laugh.

"God, I forgot how fun soccer was," she said with a sigh. "Clever idea with the acorn."

I shrugged. "Boredom struck. Creativity thrived."

She snickered, hands on her hips, before nodding at my arm. "Should you even be playing with your arm like that?"

I quirked a brow. "What you gonna do? Rat me out to Misty?"

She snorted with amusement. "She's too busy with Coach Scott to care."

I tried not to laugh, knowing Misty had been enjoying herself a little too much with looking after Coach Scott and his leg. It was clear she liked him, and though he was aware of how inappropriate it was, he had no choice but to accept her help. Yeah, the last thing on Misty's mind was if I was playing acorn soccer or not.

"Okay, you ready for the next one?" Jackie asked, already kicking the acorn into the centre to start again. "I might just take it easy on you this time. Y'know, because you're at a disadvantage."

I glared at her playfully, ignoring the way her cocky grin made me feel. "Game on, Taylor."

—

Since that point, I'd found myself looking out for Jackie a little more than usual. I guess you could say she'd piqued my interest more than she ever had. Back home, she was my team captain and that was it. We never really hung out outside of practice or soccer parties because our circles never crossed over. Now though, with her looking out for me and hanging out with me more, I was beginning to develop a little crush on her.

I would've been insane not to. She was funny, flirty, smart and she always knew what she wanted. And it was probably silly of me to crush on the one girl I could never get, but it certainly made my current situation a bit more manageable. Nothing like a teenage crush to get your mind off reality.

I liked to think I was subtle with it, the whole checking out Jackie every now and then. It was only when she was a fair distance away and there was no chance she would spot me. But one morning, as I was helping Akilah boil some more water from the lake, I spotted Jackie walking out of the cabin with Shauna. It was nothing different, but for some reason, she just looked extra stunning this morning. I wasn't sure what it was – possibly my own delusion – but I couldn't stop stealing looks at her.

And then she glanced my way, catching my eye, and before I could even react, embarrassed I'd been caught out, a knowing smile appeared on her lips and she winked playfully before paying her attention back to Shauna. I swallowed, flustered, and didn't look at her again for the rest of the day. Stupid crush.

[youcouldmakealife]

KS Fill: Bryce/Jared; quick learner

For the prompt: I would really like to see someone (coach or media) realize Bryce is not actually an idiot (at least about hockey)

SO: How is it, having Bryce Marcus back in the roster for this final run before the playoffs? Is it a relief to have him back? BF: We have faith in all our guys, but I mean, of course we’re glad to have Bryce back. LR: I wouldn’t use the word relief, though. That’s not the feeling I get. It’s a treat to have him back with us. BF: Yes. LR: And I don’t just mean on the ice. The guy’s a sponge, truly. Everything I teach him, he either picks it right up, or he knows it already. I’ve coached some of the best players in the world, here and internationally, and I’d like to think I’m pretty accustomed to bright hockey minds. But it’s a treat. It’s a treat. SO: High praise. LR: My guys know — I never give a compliment unless I mean it. BF: Is that why you never give me compliments? (Laughter) LR: The only thing I don’t like about that guy is that I won’t get to coach him in the Olympics. SO: You don’t see a defection to Team USA in his future? LR: Nah, pretty sure the guy’s heart is right here in Vancouver. BF: If there’s a place for a heart to be… LR: It’s a pretty good one. BF: Great one.

-After Hours, feat. Vancouver Canucks Coach Landon Rutger and General Manager Brian Foster

*

Jared’s honestly a little surprised it takes as long as it does for the coaching staff to realise just how bright Bryce is. Or more, to pick up on just how broad that intelligence is, because it doesn’t take long for them to figure out how quickly Bryce picks up strategy, almost no time at all before he’s quarterbacking the power play, stage-directing before face offs. But Jared doesn’t know if it’s Bryce’s reputation preceding him or what, but the way they seriously pay attention to what Stevie has to say, to Gabe, Bryce doesn’t get that.

Thankfully that doesn’t extend to the team: they start listening to Bryce almost straight away, on the ice and off it. Jared thinks Gabe had something to do with that, letting everyone know Bullet has a good eye, that he’s worth listening to, but it probably would have happened even if Gabe hadn’t said a thing. This isn’t Calgary, nobody’s tuning him out, assuming the only things he knows about are scoring goals, picking up women, and taking bad penalties.

Bryce’s linemates are the first ones to notice, unsurprisingly. Usually where the first line goes, so too goes the team, and the Canucks are no exception. It’s only a handful of practices before Bryce is sticking around after the coaches leave, staying on the ice to give dudes pointers, give them a little extra practice on the things they need to work on.

It means Jared has to stick around a little longer, and Gabe too, if they’re carpooling, but Gabe claims not to mind, and whenever Jared gets impatient, he just has to think about how Bryce ran him through almost every single exercise before the combine, rented private ice time when Jared was getting too into his own head.

It’d be selfish, not wanting his teammates to get that too. And, far more importantly, it'd be completely counterproductive. It makes Bryce happy too, and Jared’s always going to be a sucker for that, though, thankfully, Bryce never seems to realise quite how big a sucker he is.

But in the final regular season stretch, Jared swears he can see it click, all at once, and suddenly Bryce is getting pulled aside by Coach, waved over to serious conversations with the team vets, Rutger leaning down to intently listen whenever Bryce turns to tell him something mid-game.

“Coach told me I should consider a career behind the bench after I retire,” Bryce says when they get home after one particularly long post-practice conversation.

He sounds a little stunned, like it’s something he never considered before, which is kind of funny, considering he was technically supposed to be one when he met Jared.

Jared would have laughed his ass off at the idea of Bryce coaching back then — and he did — but now?

Well, maybe he wouldn't be the best head coach, because Jared can see Bryce getting his ass thrown out of the game after losing it on the refs — he’s almost done it a few times as a player. He can see him being loved by his players, the kind of coach they’d run through walls for, but he can’t so much see him handling the disciplinary side of things, or delivering the bad news of roster re-assignments, scratches, which goalie’s in, which is out.

Not that he couldn't do it — Jared’s sure he could — but he’s equally sure that shit would stick with him at the end of the night, get in his head, follow him home. He’s too nice to be a head coach.

Jared’s not saying head coaches have to be assholes, except — maybe he is, a little. All of Jared’s best coaches were dudes he’d never be friends with, and that’s probably part of it. Better to be feared than loved, right? That’s Machiavelli, Jared thinks. Dude had some solid points, reputation aside.

But assistant coach, well — Jared can see that. Bryce running the power play, maybe, or special teams in general — he may not play on the PK, but that doesn’t mean he wouldn’t run a good kill. Or maybe be the coach that takes the lead on player development, the friendly one checking in how the rookies are doing and if anyone’s dealing with shit off the ice, helping them grow as players.

“Huh,” Jared says.

Bryce gives him a curious look.

“You would, you know,” Jared says.

“You think so?” Bryce says.

“I really do,” Jared says. He doesn’t know why Bryce lights up at that, when he’s just been told the same thing by someone who knows a hell of a lot more than Jared does, but he accepts the grateful kiss that comes his way. He hasn’t earned it or anything, but he’ll take it anyway. He always will.

*

SO: So I think it’s safe to say you’re both big fans of Bryce Marcus. BF: I know we’ve spent most of this interview singing his praises, but he deserves it. We’re lucky to have him. Delighted to have him back. LR: I think most people respect his hands, and his shot, but I don’t think very many people have realised what a keen mind for strategy he has. I’ll be the first to admit that I didn’t realise until he was playing for me. BF: In hindsight, it might have been a better idea to let them stay in the dark on that one. (Laughter) LR: Maybe. But I think anyone paying enough attention will figure it out sooner rather than later. I think he’s going to make a lot of people eat their words. BF: I'm looking forward to that moment. LR: Me too. -After Hours, feat. Vancouver Canucks Coach Landon Rutger and General Manager Brian Foster

[nalyra-dreaming]

I think that a lot from the DM fans’ disappointment comes from the fact that they’ve kind of… set themselves up for disappointment, in a way? Don’t get me wrong, I’m including myself here and I definitely want it to happen more than anything in the show, but a lot of these theories (like DM having happened in the 70’s/80’s, Alice = Armand, etc.), haven’t even been confirmed by the show, the actors or the producers, it’s just the fans taking these so called “clues” and interpreting them in ways that fit their preferred headcanons. So many fans were convinced that there would be a past DM reveal in the finale full of flashbacks or at least a very explicit clue re: it having happened in the past 100%. So when the show goes in a completely different direction no one could’ve ever have predicted, they’re either angry or feel gaslighted when in fact, the show never promised them anything. Not Rolin, who seems kinda lukewarm on them atm, not even Eric or Assad who seem very into the idea and are looking forward to exploring it but are also clear about not actually knowing. And there’s Jacob whose comment about Louis leaving Armand for periods of time in America is interesting but it’s really just a headcanon for now and doesn’t actually confirm anything. Hope I’m not sounding too harsh, but if people are putting all of their eggs in the “70’s/80’s Devil’s Minion is real” basket in order for them to actually like their story in the show and the changes they’ve made… I feel like it might be counterproductive in the long run. I’ve been in other fandoms and whenever these theories gain so much weight in fan communities to the point they’ve become accepted as “canon” and then the show ends up not doing it… the backlash is brutal. And I feel like this is be the direction DM fans might be headed to, with some people acting like they definitely had an affair in the past which not only confirms DM in the show but also explains their motivations going forward. Like, no. Idek I’m scared!!! I just want everyone to stay positive yet realistic and work with what we’ve got you know?

We should definitely try to enjoy what we’re given, true.

Personally I think there were plenty of hints in the show already, and I do get the disappointment, because the way it was done was definitely not expected. Which is probably the point. 😅

[nqueso-emergency]

Buddie seems to think we have a problem to them shipping or rooting or believing for their ship. But it’s not, have as many couch and color theory as you want. Hell, everyone has different approach and conclusion to the character and/or their relationship from watching the show, I get that. Fandom is for having theories discussing them, making head canon and creating works around them.

What people have problem is them being the absolute vile human being to the real life people be it a fan, crews, and even the actors themselves. We have problem with them because their counterproductive has always been at the expense of others. One of which treating their own fanon or ideas as canon and/or true fact. I discovered 911 universe thru LS first. And from the beginning they’ve always say that Tarlos was the replacement for Buddie. That Tim was going to green lit them before he left but the exces was not having it. When asked the buddies never provided actual interview or press and as long if seen they just replied with tweet that comes from another buddies with different variation of wording. And listen I don’t have a problem if they believe that, but they keep running it as a fact, then dismissing Tarlos as a legit relationship because they started too soon (which I seem to remember the most paying ship from that show doing this too, but I guess if it’s a queer relationship it has to have the fanfiction plot 🤷🏾‍♂️) or they started from hookup instead of years of slow burn (which surprise most relationship goes from casual then taking the leap of faith to pursue it seriously or not). Then the other day they come again saying that the Rafael or Ronen have beef with each other. Which I don’t care about the RL actors but also what a fucking weirdo you have to be to micro-analyze two actors especially from the show you say you didn’t like. Oh they definitely had been bothering the LS actors too asking about their opinion on Buddie (bc of course that’s just regular behavior for them) and being mad when the actors answered in neutral and the other answered he only has eyes for his own show and relationship, because I guess even they knew how obsessive these fans can get

Before 2024, the buddies weren’t this massive and “openly” hateful and it was mostly Tarlos because from their own mind that they choose to believe as real factual information, Tarlos was the one thing preventing Buddie to “happen”. Now while I don’t closely join the 911, due to algorithm I have witnessed how nasty they have been to the idea of BuckTommy/ just Tommy in general. Because now this new guy is also the one preventing my two preferred men to kiss.

I think wishing you guys well and for Buddies to enjoy their ship without bothering others seems like a big imagination because it’s either being mad at the exces for making other couples instead of their preferred one or being mad at themselves for getting too worked and baited up by their own theories that was made by their own mind and choose to believe it as canon. I guess that’s why a lot of them seem to be mad if they’re not going to have buddies this season. Because what a waste of 7 years being baited by your own brain 🤣

This

[hopeswriting]

@kiralushia replied to your post “A question about your Luce post. I thought the...”:

I'm not sure Sephira was an arcobaleno, unless she turned into an arco way later. In that panel, Check Face says that the Arco are human sacrifices, but it goes against the fact that Sephira is not a human nor a sacrifice, since she's alive for centuries and we had different arco generations already before the creations of the rings (Giotto met Bermuda who was already a former arcobaleno, and he already was wearing the ring that he got from Sephira herself).

​fair points! and i agree that panel is ambiguous and leaves room to different interpretations. but i think it's, like, 99% safe to say sepira was an arco at some point. here's a clearer version of that panel i zoomed in on:

[ID copied from alt-text: Screenshot of a panel from the manga Katekyo Hitman Reborn. It's zoomed in on Sepira, showing her wearing the Giglio Nero hat and cape, as well as holding onto the round-shaped necklace around her neck. /End ID]

like, you still can't make out the pacifier 100%, but this is obviously a pacifier she's wearing. like, from context, you know? and it might or might not be the sky pacifier, but again, knowing all else that we know for a fact, it very likely is.

that said, that in itself still raises questions too, for sure. and i agree it seems counterproductive and/or illogical for sepira to have been an arco too, but i explained here how and why i could see it happen. as for the fact there were multiple generations of arco between the creation of the pacifiers and the rings, you're right and i had never actually realized it before!!! but i don't think that her long lifespan as an earthling necessarily goes against her having been the sky arco?

like, we already know thanks to luce, aria and uni, that the same generation of arco can and has to have different sky arco because of the short lifespan of the sky arco. so i don't think it's a stretch to assume the reverse can just as easily happen, the same sky arco for different generations of arco. on the other hand, we know that sepira, as an earthling, had naturally a long lifespan. and they were still five of them left when they created the pacifiers, but only two of them left (sepira and kawahira) by the time they created the rings too (which they had to because they were only the two of them left anymore by that point).

looking at those facts together, i can personally explain and make sense of sepira having been the sky arco in two different ways: 1) she's an earthling, a species with a long lifespan who are meant and are naturally suited to look after the trinisette. so to me it isn't a stretch to think the short lifespan curse of the sky pacifier wouldn't have affected her, which means she could have been the sky arco of all generations of arco from when they first created the pacifiers and until her long lifespan naturally ran out and she died.

or 2) she wasn't the first sky arco nor was she an arco at all at first, but then the five of them remaining kept dying one by one too until only the two of them were left, and before they resolved to create the rings too, the weight of the pacifiers became too much for humans to bear it alone, and so they added earthlings flames to the mix to sustain them a generation more until they created the rings. and then she does go on to die because of the short lifespan curse or it's coincidentally by the time her long lifespan will run out soon, but either way she had the time to first give the vongola rings to giotto and create the giglio nero to look after the mare rings. (and then the sky pacifier may or not have been passed down strictly through sepira's bloodine depending on your headcanons.)

was that clear? i hope so rsgdfgdfg.

[sweet-self-indulgence]

I got insomnia on the wheel, could you do it for Damien?

Yes! I had a lot of fun making Damien my kind of insomniac!

Damien's Insomnia

Ever have too many thoughts running through your head to sleep? Imagine how a mind-reader feels.

Damien sighs. It had been a long day. His mind reading had decided to be extra sensitive today, which means he spent most of it laying in the spot in the yard that was furthest from most other people.

Matthew had brought out breakfast, and James lunch. Sam had even tried to chase away the squirrels, which was sweet, if counterproductive given his method of yelling as loudly as he could. Mika sat quietly with him for a while, thinking through episodes of her favorite TV show to distract him while letting him slowly sip energy from their intertwined hands. Eventually she found Erik, and they wheedled him until he agreed to let Erik place a low barrier in his mind.

With the spell in place, Damien had been able to function most of the afternoon, but now he’s exhausted. Emotionally, physically, and demonically drained.

He heaves another sigh and tears his gaze away from the reflection of the bags under his eyes. It’s only 9:30pm, but he’s too depleted to care about his sleep schedule.

Damien trudges to bed and collapses onto it. He drapes an arm over his eyes and wills peaceful unconsciousness to take him.

Thoughts stampede through his head, demanding his attention. Damien can feel his irritation ticking up as he fails to ignore them. Instead, each passing observation made by the other residents of the mansion requires acknowledgement. Only adding to the clutter in his mind.

“… we can up it in the fourth quarter…”, James is reading some financial reports.

“… almost out of butter…”, Matthew must be meal planning.

“… One and two and three and..”, Erik does that when he plays piano.

“…shoulders down, elbows in…”, Sam is working on his tai chi form.

“… He went up the bed so early…”, Mika’s worried about him.

Suddenly,  a dial in his brain is cranked all the way up. He can’t move, he can’t speak, can’t think. The world is only the static of a thousand overlapping thoughts all at once.

All Damien can do is lay there as his senses are assaulted. Images, perceptions and imaginings strobe in his mind’s eye. Too fast and too jumbled to interpret. Sound is too loud; any coherent words are drowned out by the sheer volume of everything else. The old mansion creaks as it settles, the noise is magnified by each individual perception of it. Damien gasps as the echo seems to stab him directly in the temples. The sharp feeling returns again and again.

Eventually, the static begins to fade. The piercing sensations dull to pins and needles. Damien is able to notice that his skin feels clammy. After a time, the pins and needles fade into a vibration. His face feels cold after his arm flops down to the bed beside him.

Then, finally, a moment of quiet. Mice notice scents in the garbage, and cicadas hear each other’s calls. These are distant sensations, almost too far away to make out entirely. Damien lets himself ponder the smell of maple syrup and the sound of beating wings for a few minutes, before gathering his will power to ignore them.

His brain feels hollow. His own thoughts materialize into complete sentences and bounce around inside his skull.

“Ow my head”

“Was that the worst that’s ever been?”

“No, surely it was when father…”

“Did Matthew put the jar of syrup in the trash without rinsing it out? I told him the mice will get in…”

“I hate to make everyone worry”

“They must be asleep”

Streams of consciousness overflow into each other and a dull ache settles between Damien’s eyes.

“I have to put all my effort into a single thought. As long as I think about one thing it won’t hurt. Ugh, I feel really sweaty. Should I change clothes? What time is it?”

He glances at the digital clock on the nightstand, “1:30am. No wonder I feel like shit. I’m too tired to change, I’ll be fine until the morning.”

Damien continues to consciously think as he tries to unwind enough to fall asleep. He considers his comfort as he tries getting under the covers and rearranging the pillows. He thinks about what could have triggered his episode, but he tries not to think about  how it felt.

He keeps glancing at the clock. Hours slip by too quickly yet agonizingly slowly: 1:52, 2:23, 3:01.

“Fuck it! I guess I need to do something so I can reset my stupid dumb brain!”

Damien throws the covers off with a huff. He undresses and wanders to the bathroom by the light of the moon drifting through the windows.  He sits in the tub and turns on the shower, letting water fall onto his face until his thoughts return to quiet perceptions.

He towels off and wanders back to his room to put on fresh pajamas. The red light emanating from the clock reads 3:49. Damien fights to keep from turning his frustration into words to echo in is mind. He lays down and focuses on breathing slowly and evenly.

Eventually he cracks an eye open. 4:31. He groans into his pillow and rolls over, studiously thinking of nothing.

“Beep beep beep!” James’ perception of his 5am alarm startles Damien. He has a meeting with a client overseas that he’s anxious about being on time for.  After the initial shock, his brother’s grumpy morning routine is calming. Tired muscles relax a fraction as Damien contentedly drifts along with James’ thoughts.

Just as his mind fades into the distance, Matthew wakes up. His thoughts are less orderly, and Damien feels a smile pulling at his lips. Matthew’s internally debating over whether he has enough time to make a pastry for breakfast. “He’s going to be disappointed when he realizes there isn’t enough butter left.”

Damien frowns, trying not to let Matthew’s energy pull him into wakefulness. He almost succeeds, but then Sam is up. He glances at the clock, 6:42. Sam should be out the door by 7 for his run.

After Sam leaves, Erik gets up to take a shower. His routine is the calmest. Damien lets his brother’s steady rhythm occupy his mind.

He dutifully ignores James’ anxiety during his conference call, Matthew’s frantic flipping through recipe books, and whatever song is stuck in Erik’s head. They’re downstairs so the thoughts are quiet, if not peaceful. But then Sam comes back from his run and jogs up the stairs and Mika stirs awake.

Damien shoves a pillow over his head, for all the good it will do him, and tries not to get annoyed by how focused Sam is on his stretches.

Mika wanders downstairs eventually and starts chatting with Erik. His name draws his attention, “Damien’s still asleep? It’s almost 9:30, he’s going to miss breakfast.”

An audible groan escapes him as he finally admits defeat. He slides out of bed and trudges downstairs.

[cinnamonest]

Im here to spread the r*pist ayat0 agenda...imagine Ayaka bringing home a pretty young thing she befriended

She's so shy and innocent ayato can't help but be attracted to her...he just wants to have her all to himself

(I didn't expand very far with this, sorry i was in a rush)

I know I used it in that teacher post recently but I want to note again that it is objectively the case that Ayato would utilize Ayaka as a tool to get closer to a darling, especially if she's already friends with you.

He really pressures and psychologically manipulates her into being around you, too, speaking positively of you. You seem so much happier when you two are together. I think this friendship is good for you. Things like that, little comments to steer her in the direction of getting closer to you, and thereby bringing you over to the estate more often.

He doesn't get many chances to see you otherwise, being as busy as he is. It would be unusual if he left the estate to go take care of trivial matters, and people would notice wherever he went, so he can't just go out in public and try to "coincidentally" run into you or anything. No, he has to rely on her as an outside means of bringing you to him instead.

He can still make some coincidences occur, though. It just so happens that someone else has come to see his sister and needs to speak with her. He had no idea they were coming today, apologies for the inconvenience, but he interrupts the two of you and asks if she wouldn't mind talking to the other guest for a moment... leaving the two of you alone, just to talk for a minute or so.

Or another time, you received a letter from her asking you to come over at a certain time on a certain day, and when you arrived you found she was nowhere to be found. Ah... she's absent-minded sometimes, you know. That's what Ayato says at least, gesturing for you to come in nonetheless. She must have gotten the dates confused when she wrote it down. Which makes sense -- she did scratch out the first number of the date and had written it again above it, so she probably got confused, and the original date she wrote actually was the correct one.

But you've come all this way, it would be a waste of your trip not to stay, and of course it would be so rude to turn you away! Here, he was just about to take a break for tea, you could stay a while if you'd like. And of course, you too want to be polite, so you agree, end up coversing a short while. He has a charismatic personality and way of speaking, so it's easy to feel comfortable. Besides, he mostly just asks questions about you anyway. You end up staying quite a while, and when you do leave, he even walks you home, smiling at you as you two part ways once you reach home.

...But he's careful not to overstep a thin line. He's perceptive, cunning, and careful to keep his eagerness in check to avoid blunder. That is, he ensures these coincidences don't happen too often, that he never speaks with you for too long. He takes every precaution to ensure it stays just within the limits of what's believable enough to not strike you as unnerving or strange, or to raise suspicions. You having any reason to feel uneasy about him would be... counterproductive.

Not that it really matters all that much. He hates losing potential time with you, but after he wins you over, you'll be spending all your time with him voluntarily anyway.

[bookishtheaterlover7]

Hii Hiiii Modyyy💜 I know we mostly call out anon hate, but there are some blogs that are just as bad as these anons. Like why are you calling CE names?! There is one blog in particular that does it all the time in every post and rant about the situation. The name calling and over-the-top soapbox posts is just…. Unhinged😬

If you think he's a dumb f… and have that much vitriol for him then why follow us and comment on almost every post??🙃🙃 I think it’s so weird and just wrong. I don't get it at all honestly, you think he’s so horrible and what he’s doing is so bad but continue to stick around calling him names? Wouldn’t you much rather spend that time on something better or someone more pleasing? 🫠Seems counterproductive to me. I hate to see it and it sucks too, because you block those blogs, but if they reblog something by a blog you follow you still unfortunately see their comments/posts which is irritating! 🙄😡

You can call someone out on their actions and disagree with what they do without calling him all of these names, bullying him and blogs that don't think it's real. Yeah he was wrong to sign the contract and all of that but it doesn't make him the worst person in the world or some criminal. Makes me wonder how some of these blogs and anons treat people in their actual lives if they’re going to behave this way online over someone they don’t know. 🤔

Sorry this is so long but thanks for letting me vent. 🥹💜

It's okay, N🫶nnie.

I've always said, that my blog is a safe space where you can vent out your frustrations about anything. And I meant it.

As for that blog, I think they're just angry at Chris, and calling him names and sticking around helps her.

And honestly, at this point, things like this that come out when they post something, it's more for the catharsis that comes after. And maybe she does it a lot, because her disappointment, runs deep. And it's actually more sad than anything.

Because you believe in something, or someone. And then they do something absolutely the opposite of what you'd expect them to do. It's heartbreaking.

Also, YES! I know that feeling... Blocks are kind of redundant if the Blocked, pop up randomly 😆 but it's a comfort to know, they can't bypass your block, so they can't attack you.

And besides, ignoring them works just as well ❤️

And know, that every thought and feeling is valid, An🫶n. So, don't worry 🤗

I'll be here should you need to vent again. Don't worry 😊

[missmyloko]

Is it true that the Ookini Zaidan is against social media and is discouraging (banning) the geiko and okiya from having social media accounts. Is this only for Gion Kobu or does it affect the other kagai as well? Does the whole idea of no social media presence seem counterproductive to you? How can they recruit new maiko if they're against social media? Do you think something big happened that caused such a drastic reaction?

They're not against social media per se, but rather the sharing of photos from private events onto social media, such as ozashiki or even group photo shoots. This seems to be across all kagai and not just Gion Kobu. I agree with the no sharing of images of ozashiki publicly as that's something that took a lot of connections and trust to build to (and money) and shouldn't just be shared with everyone. However, I don't agree with wanting to discourage the posting of all images of geimaiko onto social media as it's just going to make people go to extremes to get a shot, which will only make things worse in the long run. I have no idea what's suddenly happened to prompt these new rules, but it seems like another targeted jab at Japan's issues with xenophobia.

[sims-half-crazy]

Cornelius stepped into the house, a scowl already etched across his face. How did no one hear me come in? Not even the damn maid was there to take my jacket. He muttered under his breath, tossing his coat over a chair in the hallway. As he moved toward the drawing room, he paused at the doorway, his gaze narrowing at the scene before him.

There, at the small table by the window, sat his darling, enceinte wife, Imogen, playing cards with his brother, Elias. They seemed so at ease, so perfectly content in each other’s company. Cornelius loathed the ease with which they conversed, the unspoken bond they seemed to share—a bond he could never penetrate, no matter how hard he tried. Why should she choose to spend time with that wastrel? he thought bitterly. All he cares about is that stupid shack of wine. He hasn’t the sense to do anything useful with it. So why does she waste her time with him? Cornelius watched them for a few moments more, his fury simmering just beneath the surface.

The game was beginning, and an easy repartee flowed between the pair, punctuated by soft laughter and the occasional teasing remark. As Cornelius watched, his face grew hot with anger. How dare they act as if I’m not even here! He strode towards the table, his footsteps heavy, ready to confront his brother.

Gritting his teeth, Cornelius barked, “What’s this? Playing cards while there’s work to be done?” Imogen and Elias looked up, startled by his sudden presence. Imogen opened her mouth to speak, but Cornelius shot her a glare, cutting her off. “Not a word from you, Imogen. This is between me and my brother.”

Elias calmly laid his cards face down and leaned back in his chair, meeting Cornelius’s glare with his own steady gaze. He responded, “We’ve been at it all day, Cornelius. The harvest is done, and the grapes are processing. Sometimes a break is needed. There’s only so much one can do before it becomes counterproductive.”

“A break? Do you think this estate thrives on leisure, Elias? The grapes are processed, and the wine needs to be sold. We have buyers waiting, contracts to fulfill. Yet here you are, delaying everything with your so-called expertise.” The sneer in his voice was as sharp as the crack of a whip.

Unbothered, Elias replied, “The wine needs time to develop, Cornelius. It’s not ready for sale. Rushing the process now, just to meet your deadlines, will ruin the quality. We’ve worked too hard to let impatience dictate our actions.”

“Don’t lecture me on how to run this estate! You’ve always acted like you know better than everyone else. I’m tired of your arrogance.” Cornelius's voice had taken on a thunderous rage.

“It’s not arrogance, it’s understanding. I’ve been managing the vineyard long enough to know that quality wine takes time. If we compromise on that, we compromise our reputation. And I thought you of all people would understand the value of our name.” Elias’s composure was starting to crack, his voice taking on a low, icy edge.

Cornelius clenched his fists, his face reddening with anger. The room felt charged with tension, a silent battle of wills between the brothers. “You’re so high and mighty, aren’t you, Elias? Always thinking you’re the savior of this estate. Well, let me remind you that this estate belongs to both of us. And I’ll not have my investments jeopardized by your so-called expertise.”

As the brothers clashed, Imogen’s heart pounded in her chest, each harsh word from Cornelius twisting her stomach into tighter knots. She longed to speak up but knew her words would only fuel the fire. She remained silent, her eyes darting between the two men, hoping Elias would stay calm.

Elias stood up slowly, his chair scraping against the floor as he pushed it back. His unwavering eyes never left Cornelius’s. “Then maybe it’s time you start respecting the craft, Cornelius. We inherited this estate together, but it seems you’ve forgotten what it stands for. The wine needs time, and if you can’t see that, then you’re the one jeopardizing everything we’ve built.”

Without another word, Elias turned and walked out of the room, leaving Cornelius seething with rage. Imogen sat quietly, her hands folded in her lap, her eyes downcast. Cornelius turned his burning gaze to her. “And you, Imogen. Sitting here, indulging him, encouraging his insolence. Are you that naïve, or do you just enjoy undermining me?”

Imogen took a deep breath, keeping her voice steady despite the tension. “I wasn’t undermining you, Cornelius. Elias is right about the wine. You know how important it is to preserve the quality of our estate’s product. He’s only looking out for the vineyard’s reputation.”

Cornelius’s face twisted into a sneer, his temper flaring once more. “Don’t presume to tell me what’s right for this estate. I don’t need your counsel, and I certainly don’t need you siding with Elias. Remember your place, Imogen, or I’ll remind you.”

Imogen met his gaze, her expression calm but resolute. “My place is here, supporting the family, ensuring our future. I’m not siding with anyone—I’m simply stating what I believe is best for us all.”

Cornelius’s sneer deepened, his voice low and threatening. “You’re walking a fine line, wife. See that you don’t cross it.”

With that, he stormed out of the room, leaving Imogen alone. She waited until Cornelius’s footsteps faded before allowing herself to exhale, her composure crumbling as her shoulders sagged with the weight of her unspoken fears. She released a shuddering breath, her mind racing with what had just transpired. I can do this, she told herself, I have to.

[verycharismaticdragon]

25

[ common fandom complaint that you’re sick of hearing ]

You didn't pick a fandom so I've decided that the perfectly hinged option is to talk about fandoms in general; so here goes.

I'm deeply tired of complaints about abundances. "Why is there so much of ship X", "Why are there so many fics about Y"... And I get the frustration, I really do - it's so often I wish some concept that looks so interesting in my head was more explored, instead of everyone just repeating the popular fanon. But!

This specific way of complaining about it is just... THE most counterproductive. Because there's an obvious answer to that "why?" and it's "because people find it interesting". And saying that something a person is interested in is bad and annoying is, unsurprisingly, NOT going to make them abandon something they like and switch to whatever the complainer wants to see. At best, they'll just think the complainer is kind of an ass and keep on doing whatever they were doing; at worst, it can over time chip at their willingness to engage with that particular fandom at all. And then there's just less fancontent overall, and still no things the complainer wanted in the first place.

(As an aside, there's a similar phenomenon I see when people engage with queer media, where basically a silly indie game with queer rep will be picked the fuck apart for what it does not have, instead of, you know, being celebrated for what it did portray well. Because tearing into every queer game that comes out absolutely does not lead to more queer games with other types of rep! It's ridiculous that ppl do not seem to see that!)

And the thing is, it's very easy to take the sentiment behind such complaint, and then do positive things with it - things which, I dare say, will benefit the fandom as a whole. And it all starts with rewording that complaint. Instead of saying "there's too much of concept A", say "I would love to see concept B explored", or, "I love it when people explore concept B". Someone who had not thought of B before might consider it and become interested. Someone who thought of it but was worried it wouldn't be well-received will feel validated. Someone who did explore it will be happy - and might even pop into comments with a rec! Seriously: just channeling that frustration into a call for more content, instead of saying there's too much content, makes it more pleasant to see and more likely to actually net the reaction the complainer wants.

(It's like... reverse 'two cakes' almost. Instead of complaining you hate chocolate cake, say you wish there was a vanilla one too. Maybe someone who was afraid their vanilla cake wouldn't be well received will be running to you with it.)

After that, there's of course the option of uplifting the fanworks that do [whatever it is] right - hyping them up, spreading the word, writing the author a long-ass comment. And one can always cook their own meals too! Yes, even if one isn't a creative; sometimes a screenshot of canon material with a short comment is all it takes to make the gears in someone else's head turn. (Spoken as someone who definitely did get ideas from exactly such posts.)

Anyway, tl;dr: I wish ppl would stop complaining there's too much of [some fandom content], and started to channel that energy into hyping up the content they would like to see. This would be more productive, and just plain more pleasant for everyone involved.

[congregamus]

Gotta go somewhere

So my mental health has been very poor for most of this year, and it is starting to take a worrying toll on me. There's a lot to talk about, obviously, and whatever it is probably lives here, at least in part, so I will refrain from review and go directly into whatever is next

My contemplation game is strong again, so that's something to be glad of, but it has been of necessity and not purely of love of "God" and the inner temple. I have had to be contemplative to keep myself together, and it burdens me that my spirituality could be rightly accused of transactionality lately. To which end: Psalm 31.

You see, I am panic attack-adjacent at all times these days. The buzzy language about this is to say that my nervous system is severely dysregulated. Fight-Flight-Freeze seems like a zipcode to me these days. And I require some things for this to resolve itself, none of which I have access to right now, and none of which might I be able to afford, even when granted limited access by becoming re-insured.

Please know that I know my privilege that I'm not dodging bombs right now, but my body/nervous system is absolutely convinced otherwise, and I am on the verge of system collapse. Like everything else, right? Letztlich ist alles metaphorisch.

It has become clearer to me lately that much of what I have been afraid of happening is queued up next, or has already happened to some degree. The US has been unmasked as a nation that is not a democracy in any sense that is important to it. The powers of the global "West" are sliding quickly into ultra right-wing ideologies. There is an actual genocide happening in which the US is involved, the atrocities of which are being mightily suppressed, while what we see — when we can bear to look — is already so monstrous as to be traumatizing simply to witness. Never mind what it is to undergo or survive.

I am not equipped to handle it, neither am I free to ignore it. It feels like it's tearing me apart. I understand that this is not about me. But I have no direct access to other perspectives or experiences, so I may only report these things.

I am studying again using books by Ms. Bourgeault, after a long season of lectures with her mentor, the late Fr. Thomas Keating, so I am bearing these things mystically as best I am able, which, at the moment, is not so well. My self-judgement is unnecessary because, spiritually speaking at least, this is a crucifixion moment, and one doesn't "succeed" or "fail" at that. One just dies.

This is distressing to me not only because it fucking sucks, but because one of metaphors insisted on by my consciousness is "performance." This means that what "spiritual" people call my "egoic self" wants a positive review of my inner torment. ("Did it move anyone? What did The Kansas City Sun say about the effectiveness of my writhing?") I do understand how counterproductive this is, but I verbalize it because to do otherwise is to resist it, and that is an act in which I have no interest, and frankly for which I have no energy left. The world is on fire, and I apparently want someone to notice my pain, for fuck's sake. It's not a great look, but it's what I look like right now, at least in some contexts.

I had another one of those 13-hour days yesterday, so I'm not doing anything important today. I don't have to take an "official" mental health day, because I don't report to anyone on Fridays, but I really need to allow myself to breathe into whatever refuge I can find for myself.

The class yesterday was hard. I'm still prone to COVID-fatigue on top of this hyper vigilance machine I apparently carry around with me, which itself takes a lot of fuel to run.

Thank you if you read any of this. I'm going to go and do the best I can by myself, which starts with taking my medicine, which I can do right off today. Thank Goddess I don't have to "raw dog" this whole day with only the brain chemistry I was born with, or have since developed.

[severeprincesheep]

Truth be told, I've never been that keen on exercise. Yes, I do resistance training at home most mornings and enjoy more unstructured activities such as swimming in the sea and walking in the woods, but I don't think it's necessary — or appealing — to go running or sign up for the gym.

So I was delighted to read the results of a recent trial in Finland which concluded that the benefits of exercise, at least as far as longevity is concerned, appear to be overstated, and doing lots of exercise might even be counterproductive.

Yes, exercise will help in other ways, but it won't help you live longer. This is the latest addition to a list I've compiled down the years of the common myths about exercise...

MYTH 1: IT WILL MAKE YOU LIVE LONGER

Let's start with the new research. I've no doubt that if you go from being a couch potato to being more active, this will be good for your heart and life expectancy.

But the claims that it will add many years are mainly based on studies where you ask people to fill in questionnaires, then track them to see how long they live. The problem with this approach is there could be genetic factors which extend life, and make you more willing to exercise.

To get round this, in the latest study, researchers at the University of Jyvaskyla, in Finland, decided to look at the long-term impact of exercise in twins (because twins share many of the same genes).

Their results showed that being active led, at best, to a 7 per cent lower chance of dying than being sedentary.

They also tested biological age using DNA methylation, which measures changes to your DNA and is more accurate at assessing how old you are than what it says in your passport. This showed that the twins who were either very active, or very inactive, were biologically older than those who were modestly active. So doing too much — or too little — exercise is likely to age you.

Why would lots of strenuous exercise be bad? Well, it can lead to more injuries, and seems to have a negative impact on the heart.

A study of American footballers found they are 5.5 times more likely than others their age to have atrial fibrillation, which causes an irregular heartbeat and raises the risk of having a heart attack or stroke.

MYTH 2: IT LEADS TO WEIGHT LOSS

This claim is based on the idea that if you burn more calories through exercise, then you will lose weight. Unfortunately, what study after study has found is that exercise alone is unlikely to lead to long-term weight loss.

Most of the heavy lifting, when it comes to shedding pounds, is done by consuming fewer calories.

A 2014 review in the Journal of the Academy of Nutrition and Dietetics, which looked at the results of six big trials, found there was no real difference between people who lost weight by dieting, or by dieting plus exercise.

Part of the problem is that people often get hungry after exercising and eat more.

MYTH 3: IT INCREASES YOUR METABOLIC RATE

When you exercise, your heart rate goes up, which in turn raises your metabolic rate and the number of calories you burn.

The trouble is that your body doesn't like losing calories, so it sneakily responds in the hours after exercising by slowing your overall metabolic rate down.

This was shown in a 2021 study, where researchers at the University of Roehampton carefully tracked the calories that more than 1,750 volunteers burned while going about their normal lives.

They discovered that although you do burn extra calories when exercising, your body compensates, over the next 24 hours, by burning 28 per cent fewer calories than normal when doing day-to-day things such as sleeping.

And this effect seems to be greatest in people who are overweight or obese — precisely those who may be trying to lose weight.

MYTH 4: IT GIVES AN ENDORPHIN HIGH

It's often claimed that exercise boosts levels of endorphins, opioid-like substances that your body naturally produces.

But when researchers at the University Medical Center Hamburg-Eppendorf in Germany gave volunteers, who all said they get a 'runner's high', a drug called naloxone, which blocks the impact of endorphins on the brain, it had no effect on the pleasure they got from running.

Most researchers now think that the 'high' comes from the release of endocannabinoids, cannabis-like substances that the body naturally produces. But only some people experience this — and sadly, I'm not one of them. A few years ago, I took part in a study at the University of Nottingham where I joined a group of enthusiastic runners for a reasonably long run. By the end, their endocannabinoid levels had soared but mine had flat-lined.

Having said all this, I'm all in favour of being active and looking after your muscles.

There is lots of evidence that being active — whether it is walking, taking the stairs or even vacuuming — is good for your brain and can reduce your risk of problems such as depression and anxiety.

We also know that unless you do resistance exercises, such as press-ups and squats, then from the age of 30 onwards, you lose up to 10 per cent of your muscle mass every decade, to the point where you can barely get out of a chair.

That's why I do resistance training every morning — though I can't say this ever gives me pleasure.

[allycat75]

Real? Fake? Don't care. Just disgusting!

Ok, time to scream into the void. Another long one.

I know I don't know Chris, but what this GQ article made abundantly clear is that Chris doesn't know Chris either. I really shouldn't care, but as part of the social contract I signed when I agreed to be a human being, when I see someone in trouble, I try to help. So here are some things Chris needs to hear since he seems to be surrounded yes (wo)men and sycophants.

Let me start with the petty shit, since we know you can appreciate that. Here are some synonyms for quotidian: prosaic, diurnal, perennial, ubiquitous, de rigueur. You often worry you sound pretentious as fuck in these interviews, and yes, yes you do. And what are you wearing- is that a t-shirt with a mesh tank? I thought a mesh tank on its own was bad. Way to make it worse! The Columbo look at least made me giggle.

Ok, now for the hard stuff.

Since I want this to be constructive feedback, you should know I am fucking awesome. And I got this way not by being perfect or ignoring my flaws, but by recognizing I am perfectly imperfect and each day offers me an opportunity to be a little better. A tragedy isn't a tragedy unless lessons are lost. There are gifts everywhere, but if you are constantly pondering your belly button, you will miss them.

First, the pictures. I know you don't have a lot of say on this, but what's with the dead eyes? There is nothing there, no twinkle or joy. Like a depleted soul- you can't hide that. You certainly don't look like a man who is head over heals in love and happier than he has ever been.

And you say you feel like a spectator in your life. Maybe that is because you are not living it. You don't need to get out of your head, you need to dig in and explore. The focus very much needs to be on yourself- the good, the bad and the ugly. Get to know the amazing stuff, the useless stuff you can ignore and the stuff you need to work on. It's like a messy closet- just because you don't open the door, doesn't mean it isn't there. And the more stuff you throw in there the messier it gets and the infrastructure collapses. Saying the small makes you unhappy doesn't make it go away. I dare say it makes it grow exponentially (ironically). Enjoy the macro, but you must not ignore the micro. It's all connected. Besides, you look pretty unhappy anyway.

It has nothing to do with an "egoic narrative", whatever the fuck that means. Get away from this pseudo-self help bullshit you have been "practicing" for years. I am also concerned you are self medicating with weed. Listen, I love me some weed, but I think you are using it to run away. Try a good therapist who can help you through the dark forest of your mind because you can't stay still, it's too long to go around, and there is nothing for you if you go back.

And as an over planner myself, I would not call you a kindred spirit in this realm. What you call planning is actually perseverating where you get into a constant loop which distracts you, often forcing you to make rash and counterproductive decisions (which is why we find ourselves here now).

Next, no one expects you to be Captain America, but do not think that right now you have any morality or personal integrity to be proud of. You have spent over a year being duplicitous, blaming your fans for everything (now you added Ghosted to that list, a film you co-produced), you have sacrificed your reputation as a feminist, anti-racist and defender of Jews (you do remember taking on David Duke, right?). Take some responsibility for your choices, whether this relationship is real or fake, you have made a mockery of love, manipulated situations ("my girlfriend that I've had for awhile..."; you sound like that kid in high school who tries to convince you he has a girlfriend in Canada; you can't even keep the timeline straight) and made your friends and family complicit in the lies. And now you are king of the incels? I have heard you talk about your legacy, and I now don't trust a word that has ever come out of your mouth, but is this what you want your legacy to be?

Let's be clear, you haven't worked all year because you couldn't book anything and then the strikes happened. And check your Privlege- do not talk about how financially secure you are when your kinsman are picketing in the hot sun and having to go to the food bank to feed their families. This interview was probably done prior to the strikes, but they were brewing and you should have known this would not be a good look. Also, this may not be your decision to make at this point- Hollywood may call your bluff this time. I think you are talented when you are passionate about something and I do not blame you for wanting to get out of the cesspool, but are you prepared to give up the perks and adoration, as well as the creative outlet?

I think that is all for now. I don't think you or your minions lurk here but on the off chance they do, you have said you value meaningful, authentic discourse. If that is true, and since I really am worried about you for some reason, I welcome a healthy discussion and debate, you know, like adults do, if you would like to provide your perspective of this mess.

(No, I don't think he lurks here, just yelling into a void)