#and also would have given him a beard if i could draw it

[mecchantheotaku]

looking at Voice designs in the tags and can I say anyone who gives the Voice of the Broken long hair is based

[the-face-in-the-mirror]

Escanor: *already has multiple sun and lion motifs*

Me:

Anyway, hello everyone, it's been what feels like an eternity, but I have returned! And with a new redesign! You've probably been waiting for him, but here he is at last: Escanor.

This took an unreasonably long time; I can ran outta steam for a bit while making him, but I think he came out pretty okay. Especially since I've never properly drawn abs before. Pretty important since Escanor seems to hate shirts so much.

Anyway, I've decided to play off one of Escanor's Grand Cross designs with the fur coat reminiscent of a lion's mane, some fancy coattails, sun imagery (via the necklace and belt buckle), and armored bracers. I've also given him the long flowing mane he deserves, as well as beard just because I thought it suited him. And, of course, the thigh-high boots because... well, it's Escanor. He's the baddest bitch out there and he's going to make sure everyone knows it. Additionally, I've also took his original design and made him a bit more proportional. Man was like 60% upper body for some reason with the tiniest pelvis imaginable compared to the side of his thighs, so I decided to fix that.

His night form has a little bit less going on, keeping with the theme of Night Escanor being meeker than his daytime counterpart. Therefore, Night Escanor is also the only one, other than Meliodas, not to have his brand on display most of the time; he can defend himself, but he's not that confident about it, and so would prefer not to be targeted by anyone if he can help it. Honestly, he kind of looks like a discount pimp to me. Good for him.

And why does the coat magically get longer with him? Don't worry about it.

Noticeably, I've also decided to change the placement of Escanor's brand from his back to his solar plexus, both because it's a bit more visible than on his back and I'm not confident I would draw him shirtless very much (or at least shirtless without a cool coat overtop because he deserves it), and because of the symbolism of the solar plexus chakra, the symbol of which most represents a sun and is responsible for confidence, self-esteem, and willpower.

On the topic of his association with the sun, I thought it would be cool to explore just how far we can go with his Sunshine ability and what it could be capable of, hence the bracers/gauntlets made of literal sunlight which Day Escanor can likely form at will; hence why he's the only one we ever see in their full armor. It also probably affects his physical body, with him literally radiating partial sunlight from his skin during the day. Since Merlin is a vampire now, I figured it makes for a very interesting dynamic since he's in love with her but can barely get near her in the daytime when she already has to hide from the sun. Therefore, it gives some merit to his Night form and some inner loathing towards the Day; the Day is confident and powerful, but only the weaker, cowardly Night form can be around the woman he loves. IT'S. ABOUT. THE TRAGIC. LOVE STORY.

Anyway, that's about all I have for Escanor for now. Let me know what you think, if ya'll are so inclined, and I'll see you - hopefully - soon!

[thygoddessouijathicc]

Old Man Yaoi May Not Be So Old

So there’s a segment in the DSaF fandom that beleive Dave and Jack are visibly old men. I’m fine with it, I used to, and in fact love the designs especially because there’s seems to be an almost taboo of drawing old people to a point and it’s homely really great that people here are doing it, but I don’t think that’s actually true canonically like I used to. I must stress though DRAW THEM HOW YOU LIKE. They can be old or not it doesn’t concern me.

Both of them are corpses. In terms of age, yes, they are quite old, but corpses don’t tend to age. And we see this in DSAF with the Phones not aging visibly, perhaps it’s just that it’s stock photos but Harry, despite being Gen 1, is physically not old. Why? Because Harry isn’t alive. None of the phones are. The phones are just well preserved and act like living creatures.

You know what else isn’t alive but acts like it? Dave and Jack. While they’d be in terms of numbers, old, in DSAF 3, given their ages at which they died it’s unlikely they’d physically get any older. And don’t say some kinda magic thing because we know for a fact that both behave like corpses, especially Jack. Jack paints himself orange to look alive (a weird colour choice but I digress), he does this because his body is rotting, likely turning black or purple (this also means any cursed colour swap between the two, the Jack side may just not have put on his makeup yet lol). Jack is rotting, definitely not alive body behaviours. Dave also does not behave like a living person. How many of those do you know that can do what he does. There seems to be a consensus that Davetrap is rotting but Dave is too nothing happened to Davetrap to kickstart the process that would mean Dave could not have before, it’s likely the pests just got in because he was stationary and likely far slower.

Let’s also talk about their behaviour. It’s not great to go off of but Jack doesn’t act like a mature adult and neither does Dave, they act like they’re rather young adults still figuring themselves out. Jack especially is quite childish, as if he never got a chance to mature. You could bring up Dee, but Dee’s situation is far different. It doesn’t seem like Dee has actually mentally matured so much as she has been put in a position in which she has no choice but to take on a more mature role and tries to fit that, she has no reason to mentally age, and none of the other children have meaning if she actually got older there would have to be more to it. Dee is as old as she always was, any maturity added is not due to age but due to her situation. Dave and Jack are immature people, and with this in mind it paints a somewhat grim picture of the fact that they never got to mature.

One could mention the ending in which Jack dies of old age… but the phones also have beards here and Jack is actually established to be semi immortal so dying of old age just doesn’t make sense, he can die, but it seems like he gets back up. So let’s be real the beards are fake, and Jack probably ate something weird, and will be fine in like 12 minutes. The game probably ends when you die because it would be weird if it didn’t even if you do get back up.

The only time I’d say Jack permanently dies is when he’s burned. Which leaves no body behind, which by the same principle as the others, means there’s nothing left to come back which sucks for him because oops no soul either.

Jack can also get rabies but… this also doesn’t feel like a sign he is alive.

Dave actively does rot in the game as Davetrap, Jack rots constantly, it’s safe to say their bodies do not work like human ones especially considering not having organs is not something that kills Dave. At least not that we know.

With all of this in mind, yeah. They are corpses. And as I’ve said before, corpses do not age in DSAF physically or mentally, even Blackjack is incredibly immature if you actually look at his behaviour. He’s also an asshole who never gets character development but that’s a story for another time.

It actually makes more sense if they don’t age given the very little change in their behaviour or character between games even after a massive Timeskip nothing seems to have changed at all which makes sense logically too, because why would Fredbear give Jack the ability to age? Let’s be real here if Jack can age eventually that will become a problem given that he is immortal seemingly as long as he has a body to return to. There’s no reason to give him the ability to age and plenty of reasons not to.

Now that’s not to say their bodies don’t change, they do. And if you realistically want to draw DSAF 3 Jack in his most canon possible form… which I doubt many do… Jack doesn’t age he rots he’s probably just a lot worse for wear if he hasn’t found a way to stop rotting yet. Him being an old man is unlikely, but a very decomposed zombie? More likely than you’d think.

And before anyone brings up the tapes, Dave may just look like that, pretty much every piece of art in that game is by a different person who is not Doggo, while Dave seems to be a bit older Jack does not. The tapes are in the past if we are saying that is Dave’s age in DSAF 3, sorry no.

DSAF 3 has incredibly inconsistent art to a point I’d say fans can largely disregard it but that’s an essay for another time just know art in that game isn’t as canon as people seem to think it is. At least not by my observation.

Dave and Jack are old men in age, but not in body. No in body they are most likely the age they died at which seems to have been pretty young for both of them like we know Jack was in his early 20s and Dave is a few years older but also died at the very least a few months before Jack. They aren’t old men, at least not canonically.

I must stress I mean they probably are not canonically old because honestly the DSaF fandom needs to take a chill pill and stop being angry at people for making their own designs, literally do what you want as long as it’s not illegal or like super fucked up. Don’t make Jack 12 and Dave 60 and ship that, but if you want to draw them old be my guest. This essay was just my observation of the idea that the fandom calls them old men and people seem to think they are canonically but it just seems unlikely.

[jeannereames]

Could there be a connection between the fact that Alexander used to shave, and even ordered all his officers to do the same, and the question of his sexuality?

I read somewhere that perhaps the fact that Alexander and Hephastion shaved all the time, prevented the ancient historians from speaking directly about their relationship: it was not entirely clear who was the dominant...

(It just seems like people always only consider two options: either they were lovers and no one mentioned it because it's obvious, or it just didn't happen.

What about the option that given the accepted Greek norms of the time they lived in, they had to hide it, and a clean shave for everyone was one way to do it?)

Can this theory make sense?

The beard makes no difference. It's about their age. Having or not having a beard wouldn't help. If anything, it would draw more attention to it. Like your grandma who still dyes her hair jet black and wears cake makeup although even 40 is a long way in the rearview.

Alexander simply popularized a fashion that already had traction in the Greek south. Many men there shaved, particularly under the age of 30, and had since the first half of the 4th century. 30 became a watershed: get married, grow a beard, settle down and start popping out kids of your own.

According to ancient accounts, he said he made his men shave to deny the enemy a handhold in combat. Maybe. Keep in mind, their beards were kinda long and pointy. Same reason soldiers keep their hair short or put it in a tight bun. Hair is easy to GRAB. It's also hard to keep clean on the march, and can grow LICE (et al.) So do beards. Although beards can be harder to keep off on the march, too.

Anyway, there are some pragmatic reasons for hair-style changes, including beards. But fashions are still fashions. Alexander adopted a clean-cut look because he wanted to appear "with the times" and properly Hellenic in a country that prized its more old-fashioned mores.

This is something I tried to address in Dancing with the Lion, actually. Hephaistion wears his hair long, and a beard, as an archaizing feature. In Rise, when Alexander teases him about "looking like a barbarian," he shaves.

So while yes, not wearing a beard can be taken as a sign of effeminacy (and youth), it wouldn't obscure anything about carrying on with Hephaistion past a point he was "too old for it."

[pumpkinspice-prouvaire]

Hello!!! I just finished your zombie apocalypse fic a while ago, Crack of Dawn, All is Gone? Needless to say it was spectacular, the ending is just so good. I was wondering if you could describe the physical appearances of the 4 of them a bit in detail? I really want to draw fanart hehe.

You're an amazing author! All of your fics are so good :D

omg hiiii!!! Thank u so much for this and for all of your lovely comments on my fics. I've been having kind of a challenging few weeks and seeing a barrage of new comments from you was always a lil bright spot in the middle of The HorrorsTM, so thank you for that 🥹🥹🥹 I can't promise my physical descriptions will be any good, but they're here anyway!

Enjolras, I actually have a clear faceclaim for for this fic, which is the model Michael Lockley! So yah, tall and thin, big dark eyes, very very pretty

Given that they're twins in this fic, as long as Cosette looks kind of similar to Enjolras, you're good! I think the main difference is that her hair is a darker blond than Enjolras', and that she wears it in long braids instead of natural.

Appearance-wise, my Grantaire is always similar to George Blagden. I was here since 2012 you can't ask me to change my ways now. I think the main difference is that he's short and stocky, with big broad shoulders and chest. Also he has a big thick black beard, good for him.

Marius I picture as being tall and gangly, like a baby giraffe who doesn't quite know how to manage all its limbs in unison yet. He's pale, freckly, and has lots of red hair and big brown eyes with not a single thought behind them. Also dimples. Because I can.

Given it's a zombie apocolypse fic, they'll all be fairly scrunkly and messy, like realistically all the guys are gonna have a good amount of facial hair, not just Grantaire! Up to you if you wanna include that though, I certainly didn't when I was picturing them lmao

Thank u again for the ask, tag me if you ever do end up posting fanart I would absolutely love to see it <3 <3 <3

[elie2]

A little preview for a Luca fanfic I'm sitting on, where Luca begins school and learns he's in over his head. The drawing belongs to Chelsiegeorgie.

Luca stared at the pre-algebra problems with a rising sense of dread. Maybe the textbook’s cover and the first page were misprints? He flipped to the second page, and the third, only to find more of the same. Oh carp. 

He had expected basic multiplication and division – the things his mother had planned to teach him before Alberto had made his way stealthy appearance. But numbers surrounded by curved lines and fused with letters? Rational numbers? Putting equations in slope intercept form? He may as well have been reading hieroglyphs. 

Were the other kids unprepared too? Right now, they were chatting up a storm about calcio try-outs, who had the most amazing summer vacation exploits to share and the latest fashion trends for the upcoming fall and winter. But could it be that in a few minutes, they would discover their textbooks and then howl in anger about how the teacher had skipped ahead in the curriculum? 

Luca was about to ask Giulia that when an odd-looking man – bearded, half-bald, and with a pointy chin – appeared in the doorway. The chatter died away instantly. So did the enthusiasm. Now that was class was starting in earnest, most of the students looked like they’d made a dreadful mistake coming here. 

 Mr. Aregio locked eyes with them, wearing a perfectly neutral expression.  “The eager young minds of tomorrow. At least that’s what I intended to say. But the only thing you kids seem eager for is more summer vacation. 

He brushed his fingers over his beard. “Tsk, tsk, tsk.” 

He went to the board and wrote down ‘PRE-ALGEBRA’ in super-sized letters. 

“Pre-algebra is like all branches of math, really. It’s a basic survival skill. It will follow you in whatever career you end up choosing.” 

Mr. Aregio paused, perhaps for dramatic effect. 

“But it should also be fun. And so, in this class, we’re going to be playing lots of games.” 

Luca saw the girl sat to his left sit up straight in his seat, and a smile tug at Mr. Aregio’s lips.

“Let’s get down to business. I’m going to give you twenty problems to solve. If you get 15 out of 20 correct, you’ll be exempted from homework tonight.”  

He jotted down some hieroglyphs on the board:  (2,1) and (-1, -5) 

“I’d like someone to write me an equation of the line that passes through these points.” 

Behind Luca came the sound of many more students righting their postures.   

“Who wants to go first?” 

Six students raised their hands, including Luca and Giulia.  Four of them did so somewhat half-heartedly, while Luca positively cringed with fear. Meanwhile, Giulia was wriggling like a fish. Nonetheless, it was on Luca that Mr. Aregio’s eyes settled. 

“Ah yes, the sea-monster! Come on up here.” 

“Actually sir,” said Luca, in the most polite voice he could muster, “I’m not sure if I can- 

“Solve the problem alone? Not a problem! We’ll do it together.” 

Luca had little choice but to shuffle his way to the board and pick up a piece of chalk. He hadn’t the faintest idea of what to do next. 

“First, find the slope using the given points” prompted the pointy-chinned man. 

You should have bought back the vespa, a voice whispered in his head. Now it's too late.

Luca fought to keep his cool. If Mr. Aregio could walk him through the problem, he might yet avoid public humiliation. Or anything worse, like getting expelled. “Um…how do I do that?”

“You’ll want to put the points in fraction form.”

“What’s a fraction?”

He guessed, from the way Giulia’’s eyes were flickering with concern, that his answer would set Mr. Aregio off, and it did. 

“Oh come on, Luca, that’s second grade!” shouted the teacher. 

Luca swallowed hard. His voice dropped to a half-whisper. “Yes sir, but, um, I haven’t learned about them yet.” 

It took a seeming eternity for Mr. Aregio to respond. The sight of several students tittering through their hands made the time stretch longer still. 

“My dear Luca” the teacher asked finally, “how much math did they teach you under the sea?” 

[jomiddlemarch]

the better part of valor

“And this is Captain Miller,” Mary said, keeping her voice low. The man, a pallor beneath his tanned skin, dark shadows under his eyes, had taken a turn for the worse in the night, a consequence perhaps of being assigned to Dr. Hale, and she was loathe to wake him any earlier than she must. Hale would bluster about his time being valuable, but Jed was more likely to shrug and then expound upon what any decent physician could glean from a simple observation. If they had had coffee and not chicory, he might go on at some length, clearly enjoying himself while also waiting to see if the patient would rouse to the sound of his voice. If Jed sidled a bit closer in these circumstances, the hint of a smile almost concealed by his beard, the admiration in his gaze more obvious, Mary could not be held responsible or accused of any untoward behavior ill-suiting a Head Nurse.

“He ain’t. He’s Major Miller,” the young boy in the next bed piped up. 

“Indeed?” Jed said. He barely needed to pivot to take in the youngster, the beds having been pulled closer together than Mary ordinarily allowed. It meant the ward could hold a few more wounded, but she’d acquiesced primarily to assuage the boy’s combination of imperious demand and abject pleading. It happened this way sometimes, a pair or trio of soldiers came in together and it was apparent that their bond went beyond the battle or the uniform. 

“I see no evidence of such an elevated rank,” Jed added. “Perhaps you’re mistaken, a head injury can cause confusion—”

“I know what I know.” Beneath the bandages, the boy’s eyebrows drew together. Stubborn he was and though Mary was certain he’d lied about his age and very possibly about his name and sex given the binding she’d discovered under his newspaper-lined coat, she recognized the ring of truth in his expression and the flatness of his voice.

“Then you know better than the Union Army?” Jed countered. He’d taken chicory but there’d been fresh milk and Mary had poured with as lavish a hand as her New England upbringing would allow. Jed was in good spirits and was sure to regale her with a thorough medical assessment of the young private when they left the ward. 

“He got a whaddyacallit, a brevet, after what he did a month ago. Should’ve gotten a passel of them, all the Rebs he’s got, sir,” the boy said. 

“For gallantry on the field,” Jed said.

“Not gallantry,” the boy said, shaking his head as much as he could. Mary had attended to his dislocated shoulder herself, strapping him securely without disturbing the muslin tightly wound around his, or rather her, chest. “He’s the bravest man I know, the bravest man in the whole Union Army, and I wouldn’t even be here if he hadn’t—if he didn’t—”

Something, a memory most likely, had overtaken the boy and his voice had risen before he broke off, worryingly soprano, enough to draw attention to the discussion and to the smoothness of his cheeks washed free of dirt and dried blood, the slightness of his frame. Carrying a flag and a drum, he’d be taken for what he said he was, but here, in the narrow cot, the bandages around his head like the nuns’ wimples, he was in danger of discovery and his champion Major Miller slept on, unable to defend with a distraction. Someone must intervene before Jed was forced to ask questions Mary knew he would rather defer, a truth undiscovered one he needn’t act on as either Doctor or Captain Foster, could trust to her discretion.

“I’ll be sure to make of note of the Major’s rank, Private Elton,” Mary said, lingering just a little on the name the boy had given her when she’d asked, a subtle reminder of the role that had been undertaken. He’d stumbled over it, really, salvaging the near-disastrous admission by coughing, first clumsily as Mary recalled the poor acting of the man rehearsing as Juliet when Corporal Gielgud had spiked a fever and been unable to tread what passed for the hospital’s theater boards, and then with the convulsive hacking that those who’d breathed in too much smoke and dust were prone to. Ellen was most likely or Eleanor, Elizabeth more commonly shortened to Lizzie or Betsy, not the El— that had been abandoned. The people she’d left behind must fear for her greatly, unless there were none left, Elton an orphan or a poor relation the larder barely stretched to feed.

“He rode a horse gut-shot,” Elton offered. “Major Miller was shot, not the horse.”

“A helpful, though unnecessary, clarification,” Jed remarked. “Exceedingly helpful for the horse, one imagines.”

“Took out two snipers while he did it,” Elton went on, undeterred by Jed’s comment. “They would’ve killed me but he could’ve not got wounded. Belly’s bad to get hurt—” 

Jed picked up Major Miller’s wrist and after a few seconds, nodded, raising an eyebrow in that rapid assessment he was capable of, indicating he thought the man would live but that he’d have had a better chance under Jed’s hands than Hale’s. It was enough for Mary to go on with; she always found it easier to tell the truth and to lie by omission.

“I’m sure he was glad to do his duty. To keep you safe,” she said. She had half-expected another argument, that protecting Elton wasn’t Miller’s duty, that it was unreasonable to be kept safe in a battle, to have a stranger become your closest ally, but Elton stayed quiet.

“His injury isn’t terrible, though you’re correct that abdominal wounds have generally worse outcomes,” Jed said. Elton gave Jed such a glare of skeptical scrutiny it was all Mary could do to keep from chuckling. “I’ve seen worse and I’ve seen plenty,” he said, direct as he could be when it was needful.

“You ain’t the one they call the Butcher, are you?” Elton asked.

Jed choked on the laugh he couldn’t suppress despite the quelling glance Mary gave him.

“No, I haven’t been given that esteemed title. It belongs to our other surgeon, whose efforts your comrade appears to have weathered. Major Miller likely possesses a hearty constitution and an ample degree of, shall we say, fortitude?”

“He’s got grit and he’s obstinate as my Aunt Phaedra’s mule, if that’s what all your high-falutin’ words mean,” Elton said. This time, Mary permitted herself to smile.

“I’ll watch over him myself,” Mary said. “And you may send any of the orderlies for me if you are worried, I’ll come as quick as I can.”

“And now, young Elton,” Jed said, the name uttered with a sincerity that was undercut by the acute acknowledgement of his gaze, “you may rest easy, for there is no one here who is more determined to keep a man alive, even if he should wish to argue, than our Head Nurse. She should merit her own brevet, save that there is no higher post for her to ascend to, given that Lincoln’s still in the White House and the Mother Mary Veronica assures me God occupies His throne.”

[magicalqueennightmare]

Sins & Amends Chapter 27

Billy Russo x Female Reader (60 part story)

This follows pre- the punisher into the storyline of daredevil, punisher season 1 and beyond

This is NOT Canon Billy. This is decent human being Billy left with bad options over worse decisions

This was also posted to A03 under: WaywardGaPeach. That account and this one is the only place you'll see me post this. If you see it on any other platform/account know it's not me.

Chapter Summary/Warnings: Maybe it's time you got back into the dating world

"Shit shit shit" you hadn't realized you were running late until you walked out the bakery with an armload of donuts and Curtis called to ask if you were on your way. "Yeah Curt I'm about a block away" you groaned dodging around a couple that was walking way too slow and insisting on holding hands despite the busy street around them.

"Well if the meeting is already going feel free to slip in. Pretty much all the regulars know you" you hung up after he said goodbye and hurried the final way to the building that he rented for the purpose of not only having meetings but for the soup kitchen and in a pinch during winter as a temp shelter for vets to come warm up when a polar vortex had came through.

When you stepped into the hall you heard voices drift down to you and recognized more than a few. You stepped softly into the open door and saw a few eyes turn in your direction before Curtis smiled at you and made the introduction for any new faces "Everyone this is a friend of mine, Y/N. She helps out around here as she can. She's been entangled in the service since I met her. She's more like a sister and there's a chance you've ran across her at work she's a paramedic with the FDNY" you waved as best you could still juggling the boxes "And I bring donuts and given a few minutes will have some coffee brewing that tastes better than that stuff Curt calls coffee"

You saw a few smiles and even heard a chuckle or two. Since there were new faces you busied yourself in the corner sitting up the donuts and starting the coffee. You nodded to Curtis then stepped out into the hall to give anyone who didn't know you and therefore had no reason to be comfortable around you some privacy. 

You sat down on the bench and leaned your head back against the wall then closed your eyes for a moment. Frank was supposed to be swinging by for his monthly "I'm still alive but I know you only trust visual confirmation" check in. You wished he would let you in more, there was still so much going on inside his head he'd yet to allow the light of day.

It was a small consolation that you did at least know he was alive out there and you knew deep down one day he'd let you in on whatever had happened in Kandahar that Curtis wouldn't even tell you about.

The meeting was drawing to an end when you felt someone kick your foot lightly. Your eyes flew open ready to ask whoever why the hell they'd done that but the sight before you was Frank in a hoodie and ballcap. A thick beard was starting on his face and you'd never seen his hair that long.

He motioned to the bench next to you "Can I join ya Y/N or did I just interrupt a nap?" You rolled your eyes playfully then patted the bench "You know you're always welcome..Pete" it was still strange calling him that but if it helped to keep him safe you'd manage to remember to call him Britney.

He sat in silence for a few moments then pulled you into his side "It's good to see you sweetheart" you felt tears threaten to form in your eyes but swallowed them down. Later you could cry your eyes out but in front of Frank you always tried to hold it together. "It's good to see you too" the two of you sat like that with your head leaned over on his shoulder until the meeting was over. Curtis stepped out in the hall and cleared his throat "You two wanna step in here or you gonna sleep out here tonight?"

You followed Frank back into the room where meetings were held. He'd asked Curtis to get his hands on a laptop recently so that's what he was coming to pick up. You didn't know why he needed it and didn't bother asking.  Frank had never volunteered a lot of information. You had to pull it out of him piece by piece. 

Drinking a cup of coffee and talking about everyone's lives in the last month felt strange. You knew Frank didn't want to withdraw completely from you and Curtis but the man was still living in hell every day. He'd lost his wife and kids in a few seconds time, then to find out it was all a cover up stimming from something in his own past. Your heart ached for him in a way you had never felt before. If you could do anything to take away just a fraction of his pain you would. 

There were still days you didn't want to drag yourself out of bed. You wanted to lie there and cry until nothing was left inside to let out. Those were the days you always ended up at the cemetery, talking to Maria. You were thankful to have Alice and Karen around. Whereas Frank would hide himself away because he didn't want to let anyone help him yet those two never gave you a choice. They were gonna have your back if you liked it or not.

When the little time you got to spend with Frank would draw to a close you always felt so empty. You wanted to do more for him but like Curtis had told you more than once all you could was remind him that whenever he wanted help getting out of that hole that you were ready and waiting to drop the rope down. 

"I'm a phone call away" you reminded when he leaned down to pull you into a hug.  "I know and if you need me you know how to find me" you watched him and Curtis hug then he pulled his hat back on and walked out with a glance over his shoulder and a small nod.

You didn't realize you'd been staring at the door until Curtis touched your back lightly "You good Y/N?" You offered a small smile "Of course Curt" you knew he didn't believe you but he nodded back towards the coffee table "Wanna help me clean up?" "I always do, don't I?" You replied with a more genuine smile.

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

Once the meeting hall was cleaned and chairs put away you and Curtis walked out into the cool evening air. You pulled your jacket up a little closer to you and glanced up at the sky where the sun setting was casting shades of purple and orange over the city. "Any plans for tonight?" You shook your head after a moment "Not really I mean I'm meeting Karen for dinner apparently she wants to showcase the fact that she can cook. Want to join us?" He smiled at the offer but shook his head "Actually I have a date tonight"

You felt a grin pulling at the corner of your lips "My goodness and this is the first I'm hearing? I need to know her name,occupation, if she's cute and sweet, is she normal or insane like the rest of us?" He laughed then said "Her name is Brianne. She works at the insurance agency with me. Yes she's cute and very sweet, as for insanity level too soon to tell"

"My little Curtis all grown up" you teased pinching his cheek playfully. He rolled his eyes and swatted your hand away lightly. "Want a ride to Karen's? It's on the way" 

You nodded and followed him to his car. Yeah you could've walked but he offered so may as well take him up on it. 

Most of the ride was simply filled by the music coming out the radio but about a block from Karen's he finally broke the silence "I'm glad you're getting out more Y/N. I know Frank's still dealing with a lot but there for a while I was just as worried about you and honestly? I think it helps him in a way knowing you're still alive and healthy. Wouldn't kill you to get back in the dating world one day either"

You laid your head back on the seat and let out the most dramatic sigh you could muster "I know this Curt. I just.. it's hard" he nodded and pulled to a stop in front of Karen's building "I didn't mean to over step Y/N and I know you're still hurting from Maria and the kids, not to mention the shit Billy pulled. I just want you happy" "I'm as happy as I can be at the moment Curt. I promise I am listening to you and Kenzie and I will continue to"

You leaned across and hugged him then before you shut the door you leaned your head back in long enough to say "She better have you home by midnight young man" he was still shaking his head as he pulled away from the sidewalk.

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

"It was really good Karen" you had managed to talk her into letting you clean up since she cooked so she was in the process of pouring you each some wine and choosing a movie to watch.

"Thank you! I don't really cook a lot for anyone besides myself these days" you glanced over your shoulder to see a sad smile on her face so you quickly dried the final dishes and put them away before turning the light over the sink out and walking into the living room. You curled up on one end of the couch and took the offered glass of wine.

"Did Frank see you today?" You asked taking a tentative sip as the movie started. She nodded "Yeah it's always a shock when he pops up out of nowhere. He's there then gone. At times if you and Curtis didn't see him too I'd swear that he had actually died in that explosion at the docks and I was just hallucinating" you understood that reasoning. You'd felt that way a few times. 

"He seemed as well as he can be" you added and she almost smiled "Yeah. I just wish we could do more to help him" you reached out and patted her leg reassuringly "When he's ready he'll let us Karen. We just can't give up on him" "Oh I'm not going to" she all but whispered. The emotion in her voice made a smile slip onto your face. She really did care about Frank.

You managed to make it halfway through the movie before you realized Karen had looked at you more than the screen in the last few minutes. You grabbed the remote and paused it then turned pulling your legs up under you so that you could face her on the couch.

"Something wrong?" She shook her head then acted like she was about to say something then shook her head again. You wanted to laugh at the look on her face but you were worried it may be something serious. "C'mon Page, spill it. There's no secrets between us"

She sat her glass down on the coffee table then turned mimicking your posture before a broad smile worked it's way onto her face "So I know you haven't really dated since Billy but would you be willing to date someone who say you're already friends with?" Without missing a beat you replied "Karen I'm flattered but I think Frank may be upset with me if I start dating you" you didn't miss the way she blushed before she said "No, not me Y/N! Just someone out our friend group"

You felt your eyebrows scrunch together while you thought about it "Curt is like a brother to me, you and Frank are a no, Kenzie and Alice are taken, Foggy is with Marci.." Your eyes widened when you landed on the last possibility "Matt?!?"

She shrugged and you started shaking your head "He's your ex!" "We ended on a good note and we're still really good friends besides I just I" you stopped her rambling and nodded "I know what you're trying to say but like first of all he's shown no interest in that way and that wouldn't be weird? I mean yeah I see him regularly enough and have seen him stripped down to boxers to patch him up before but wait why are you asking?"

"He may have asked if I would be ok with him asking you out. You've helped him a lot Y/N not only with me and Foggy but you have a habit of telling people to fuck off when they want to be alone in their pit of despair and jumping in to sit down next to them. You're an amazing woman all around and he knows this. I just wanted to test the waters to see if you'd be open to the idea?" 

You were honestly speechless. Matt was a good looking guy and for whatever reason he'd never even attempted to lie to you, probably because of your connection to Frank but still. You enjoyed spending time with him as a friend, maybe it'd be a step in the right direction.

Not like the two of you had to get married or anything and Karen was the proof he's the type of man who can remain genuinely friends with someone post breakup. "I'd be open to the idea" you admitted after a moment and she grinned "Good I'll drop the hint you'd be open to it then ball's in his court"

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

After that night at Karen's Matt having any interest in you was honestly the furthest thing from your mind. You had back to back shifts meaning in three days time you saw the inside of the station house more than your apartment. Thursday was the day you always helped Curtis with whatever his organization had going on for the vets that particular week. By the time friday rolled around and Foggy called to see if you and Karen wanted to meet him at Josie's for drinks, you needed a breather.

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

Considering you and Karen lived within a couple blocks of each other you would always meet at a middle point and walk together.

She was leaned against the building that marked the middle point when you whistled at her. Her head flew up and you saw that moment of anger thinking she was simply being cat called until she realized it was you and a smile spread across her face "Well hello dear" you hooked your arm through hers as the two of you continued the way to Josie's.

She talked about her most recent article she was working on so you gave her the highlights of your work week plus the joy of seeing Alice attempt to bake bread which although she was trying for the soup kitchen it turned into chaos when the dough managed to get into her hair and she called you begging you to come over.

"Y/N to the rescue once again" she teased. You looked up to see you had already reached Josie's. "That being said Ms Page I am buying your first round whether you like it or not"

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

You opened the door to the bar and let her walk in first then followed close behind her. You scanned the crowd for Foggy and spotted him at a table near the corner of the room talking with Matt. You bumped Karen's arm and pointed "There he is and I thought Foggy wanted to get drinks?" She smiled at you then shrugged "Don't look at me. You're the one that helped them start getting back on good terms"

You rolled your eyes but returned her smile. It was nice to see Foggy and Matt working to get their friendship back to where it was. The two of you made your way through the crowd keeping hold of each other's arm so as to not end up having any drunks bump into you. Foggy glanced up and smiled when you called out "Nelson I need a lawyer!" 

He stood and pulled you then Karen into a hug "It's good to see you two" Matt greeted both of you with a smile as you sat down and Foggy disappeared to the bar to order everyone's drinks.

Karen started small talk by bringing up the call you'd went on a couple weeks before where a frat boy had gotten his head stuck in the railings of the stairs and Matt started laughing "How did you get him loose?" "Very carefully" you replied with a laugh before going into detail.

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

A song came on the jukebox that apparently Foggy was very fond of a few drinks in. He bumped Matt's arm and started humming a few bars. Matt grinned but said "Um Y/N, Karen I'd run because he knows I won't dance with him so one of you are bound to be his victim" 

You chunked a balled up piece of paper at Foggy "Will Marci mind?" "Not at all" when he said that you got to your feet and grabbed his hand "Then c'mon Nelson! Let's see what type of moves you've got!" 

You couldn't help the laughter that fell from your lips as you and Foggy danced. A part of it felt strange after everything, for you to be out enjoying yourself like this but you decided to let yourself be even for a night. The guilt of being alive could return later.

Foggy had just dramatically dipped you when you felt a hand tap your shoulder so you spun around to see it was Karen "Can I cut in?" "For me or him?" You asked with a smirk. She grabbed Foggy's hand then whispered in your ear "Matt has been smiling every time you laugh"

You watched the two of them for a second then walked back over to the table and sat down next to Matt. "Be glad you can't see any of our dance moves. You wouldn't want to be in public with any of us ever again" he smiled then shook his head "Can't be that bad. Besides the way you were enjoying yourself, even the worse dance moves would be worth it"

You felt your cheeks warm and for a second was glad he couldn't see it until he reminded you of his other abilities by saying "Didn't mean to make you blush, I just know you've been through a lot"  " Haven't we all?" You turned to look back at Foggy and Karen who were now standing at the bar not so subtly watching you and Matt.

"We have an audience" you leaned over to whisper in his ear letting your hand rest on his shoulder. He turned and gently moved your head to the side so he could whisper back and you had to fight the urge to squirm when his warm breath hit the skin of your neck.

"Then I guess I need to go ahead and ask you out so they can come back over" you turned your head so quickly to look at him your lips nearly touched "Matt did you hit your head again?" That drew a laugh from him. He tilted his head to the side slightly then said "Not that I can remember. Still doesn't change that I just asked you on a date and you haven't said no"

"I'm off tomorrow night then I don't see another free weekend for two weeks" you nearly whispered but knew Matt could hear you just fine.  "I'll come to your place around seven?" He suggested so you said "sounds good to me" and left a quick kiss on his cheek. Foggy and Karen magically decided to come over with the last round of the night at that moment. "So what'd we miss?" Foggy asked, passing your drink across the table.

@intothesoul

@weallhaveadestiny

[ccohanlon]

castaway: an interview

Traveller and diarist C.C O’Hanlon spent most of the first half of his life at sea aboard a variety of vessels until marriage, children, and ill health held him ashore. He has come to think of himself as a ‘castaway’.

Now in his late 60s, C.C. is still as restless as he was in his youth. During the past decade he has wandered ceaselessly, from Australia to France, Germany, the U.K., Morocco, Italy, Ireland, and Spain. Recently, he has come to rest on the Salento Peninsula, in southern Italy, where he and his wife of 33 years, Given, are restoring a 200-year-old limestone village house.

C.C. was one year old when he first went to sea, a long voyage to Italy from Australia aboard an old Italian immigrant ship, accompanied by his parents. He became a qualified sea navigator in his early 20s. He funded the building of a small yacht of his own by delivering other people’s yachts and writing and photographing for UK and North American yachting magazines.

He has the hard-shelled demeanour, brawny bulk, and gnarled, bearded features of an old salt but C.C. is a surprisingly thoughtful, informed observer of nature and an expressive writer. Earlier this year, the respected Dutch publisher, Thomas Rap, announced that it had commissioned him to write a non-fiction book about the sea and his uncomfortable relationship with settlement and the shore.

It felt entirely appropriate that we should connect by email from seas at opposite ends of the European continent — me by the Baltic in Jurmala, Latvia, he by the Adriatic, in Puglia, Italy.

How did you become a castaway?

I stumbled ashore, somewhat damaged, in my 30s and let others convince me it was time to settle. Big mistake. I ended up rootless, a nomad, more unsettled than I had been at sea. I’ve been stranding ever since on a series of different shores.

Which has been your favourite voyage so far?

My very first passage alone in a very small yacht from the island of Jersey, in the English Channel, to Crosshaven on the south coast of Ireland, a distance of about 290 sea miles. This was in the mid ‘70s, before everyone had GPS. I had a couple of compasses, a wristwatch, a radio receiver, a barometer, and an old sextant I was teaching myself to use. Paper charts. Hardly any safety gear.

It wasn’t an epic voyage. I was very inexperienced. It took about three days. But when I finally made landfall, I felt like I had mastered some arcane craft, an ancient magic. I could find my way across a featureless sea.

What challenges are there in leading a life as a castaway?

For me, living close to the sea — being aware of its presence, being alert to its constantly changing state — and yet being frustrated, often, because I’m unable to actually get out there on it.

I miss voyaging.

What inspires you?

Unusual young people, like Hannah Lily Stowe, whom you’ve featured here. And certain solitary, rarely remarked upon, but rather extraordinary people who live (and voyage) at the margins, like Kris Larsen and Nick Skeates.

Also maps. Or, more specifically, nautical charts, maps of the sea. I have, maybe, a couple of hundred of them, many more than half a century old. I read them as I would a book.

A chart is a wondrous artefact.. At first glance, it’s just an annotated image of a stretch of water and its littoral, a repository of essential data. But a chart is filled with history, geography, oceanography, metereology and several hundred years of maritime lore and experience, all conveyed in a visual language that has evolved over centuries.

A chart can pique your curiosity about the physical world: the magnetic anomalies of the north-east Pacific, say, or the inshore canyons of the Atlantic coast of Portugal, which can form waves that reach a hundred feet in height. Or it might draw you into a real-life adventure up the Congo, the world’s deepest and maybe most mysterious river.

Is there a book about the sea that you would suggest to read?

There are two:

My childhood favourite was Arthur Ransome’s We Didn’t Mean To Go To Sea, published in 1937. I wish more kids would read it these days and imagine themselves sailing the tiny Goblin without adult supervision across the grey North Sea.

The other is The Starship And the Canoe, an unusual double biography of a famed physicist who dreamed of designing massive, improbably powered rocket-ships and sending them on manned voyages to Mars, and his son who lived in a tree, in between voyaging in hand-built, sea-going kayaks along the north-west Pacific coast, from Canada to Alaska.

What does the sea mean to you?

Possibilities! Every encounter with the sea is different. Nothing there is fixed or immutable, nothing is ever the same. When you venture out into it, you can never be sure what to expect and that element of uncertainty — of expectancy, of risk — is at the heart of sea-faring.

The sea always provides powerful experiences, whether it’s excitement, wonder, awe, puzzlement, terror, misery, tedium, frustration, longing, self-doubt, deep satisfaction, loneliness, or enlightenment — but never quite when or how you might expect them.

You can never take the sea for granted — it might, after all, take your life — and whatever you get from it, good or bad, savour it, no matter what.

First published in The Sea Library magazine, Latvia, as part of a series, When I Grow Up, edited by Anna Iltnere, 2021.

[demetriandelibinaryboyfriends]

@allvalleyskillschallenge

Prompt: Back to School Pairing: YasMoon More cheer content for Best Lesbians!!!

***

You’re at the mall with your boyfriend, he’s upset He’s yelling at you while completely drenched in sweat He doesn’t get nonviolence like I do

I’m in Marseille, it’s a typical summer night Watching the kind of sissy chick flicks he doesn’t like And he’ll never smell like roses like I do

But she wears short skirts I wear t-shirts She’s cheer captain And I’m on the bleachers

Dreaming about the day when you wake up and find That all that macho shit Won’t keep your chakras aligned!

If you could see that I won’t get a tattoo of you Without asking first because that’s creepy You don’t belong to me And I think you should flee

Walking the halls with you and your lecturing I’m sort of shocked that you still want to hang with me Seeing your laugh and thinking to myself “I’m glad Moon forgives easy”

And I see your ex acting like he’s worth your time After all he ever did was treat you like some prize You said it was love but I know better than that Have some self-respect and don’t you dare take him back!

But she wears high heels I wear sneakers She’s cheer captain And I’m on the bleachers

Know I’m nobody now, and I’m just some tryhard But despite how Hawk’s changed He’s got no clue who you are!

If you could see that I know all your favorite smoke spots Music, movies, outfits down to your bikinis And where you go on shopping sprees

Flying home to see you on the prom night I know they thought that I came for Demetri But he’s only a beard to me And you’re all I see

Oh, I remember you leaving me behind For the school karate gang But you’d end up in a bind ‘Cause mean kids are all the same

And I know that I fucked up And I know I was a bitch But if it meant there’d still be an “us” Then for you I’d make a switch

Do you see it when we’re tanning by the poolside? Do you see it when we’re sitting in the booth and I’m like please Why can’t you see me?

And I know I’ve missed my chance over and over And longing’s not bringing you any closer Even if I have to plead But you belong with me Maybe someday you’ll see

You belong with me And one day I’ll feel free To say what I wish we could be And what you mean to me

***

@karatecaulfield pspsps

After I made this, I...maaaaaay have gotten kinda carried away with the YasMoon cheerleading content and wrote them a dumb little You Belong With Me cover. Whoops ^^;

So You Belong With Me has actually always kinda given me YasMoon vibes, but like...in a roundabout way? Yeah, yeah, yeah, I know that technically Yasmine and Moon BOTH canonically wear short skirts and high heels (which like. Good for them!!! It's such a Look and they slay!!!), but it makes me think of post-S1 YasMoon, where Moon was still one of the most popular girls in school, and Yasmine...definitely was not anymore. And we DO know that Yas started dressing more "modestly" from S3 onwards (as annoying as it was that she had to give up her "evil slut clothes" to undergo character development ig -____-), so it doesn't seem out of the question for Moon to keep the skirts and heels while Yas transitions to more casual, mundane stuff so as not to draw attention to herself. Definitely wouldn't blame her for wanting to stay under the radar after the wedgie video went viral lmao

Also TELL me Yasmine wouldn't look cute as fuck in pink tennis shoes and/or pink converse!!! Like come on!!! Girl would be ADORABLE in bright barbie pink stereotypical "not like the other girls" clothing and the more I think about it, the more I NEED to see this in S6. Also because it would be really funny if Moon just like. Had a thing for mean people in casual sportswear XD

Actually, went a bit apeshit and made this entire thing pink💗💗💗 What can I say!!! They just look so good in bright girly feminine colors!!! I have SUCH a weakness for hyperfemme4hyperfemme lesbians tbh. Same for hypermasc4hypermasc gays, hyperfemme4hyperfemme gays, and hypermasc4hypermasc lesbians 💖 Idk there's just something so special about queer couples who don't give a single flying fuck about The Straights™️trying to impose their "one person MUST be masculine and one person MUST be feminine in all couples!!!" brand of heteronormativity on LGBT folk. Masc4masc pairings that feel 0 desire for any femininity in your romantic relationship I love you, femme4femme pairings that feel desire for any masculinity in your romantic relationship I love you--

Yes I know realistically speaking most LGBT and non-LGBT couples are a pretty solid mix of masc and femme between BOTH people but I'm trying to make a point here akjsdiulfhkdufh

Fun fact: I was reading cheerleader anecdotes while researching how cheer squads work, and I learned the stereotypical pleated cheerleader skirt is...actually considered kind of dated??? At least in the actual cheer community. Which I think is a damn shame, because those skirts are cute as fuck D: But TBH Moon is popular enough that she could wear the most dated pleaty cheer skirt on the market and STILL rock it. Plus make it look "cool" and "retro" XD And we damn well know Yasmine will think she looks hot regardless <3

ALSO idk if I've ever mentioned this before, but it blows my damn mind that Yasmine is practically wearing the lesbian flag during the scene where she signs Demetri's cast :O Take away that blue stripe and she literally would be??? Like that whole but needed to be any more ragingly queer-coded than it already way XD NOT MY GIRL SAYING SHE KNOWS WHAT IT'S LIKE TO BE PUBLICLY HUMILIATED TO THE POINT OF BEING OUTCASTED AND OTHERED. WHILE WEARING A GODDAMN LESBIAN SWEATER. AND THEN IMMEDIATELY "STRAIGHTENING" THE HOMOPHOBIC JOKE ON HIS CAST AND COVERING BOTH THEIR GAY ASSES IN ONE FEEL SWOOP AJDIOSUHYFDUG Lesbian queen!!!

Also this subtext is going to make me go fucking INSANE I swear to GOD

Rambles specific to the dumb little song I wrote under the cut!

Basically the scenario I'm imagining here takes place during S3. A recently fallen-from-grace Yasmine is now at the bottom of the school food chain, forced to watch from the sidelines as her ex-best-friend (who STILL gives her the time of day for some reason) remains a popular, universally-loved socialite. And she finds herself in a strange position.

She can't help being a little envious, of course, since she remembers when she was that widely respected. It leaves a sour taste in her mouth that she once ruled the school, and now her second-in-command is blossoming and thriving while she's been reduced to a pathetic laughingstock. And with Moon expanding her circle as Yasmine's shrinks, Yasmine always ends up feeling left behind.

But it's more than that. With Moon soaring high while she's crawling through the dirt trying to catch up, Yasmine believes more and more that she's not worthy of her best friend's time. Like Moon has outgrown her in a way that leaves her feeling desolate and lost.

And yet Moon lets her stick around. Yasmine knows she should spend more time counting her blessings and less ruminating on her newfound status as the school loser.

Because, for some strange reason, Moon doesn't actually seem to care. For now, that's enough.

Unfortunately, her enduring popularity doesn't make Moon immune to the kind of self-interested assholes Yasmine's trying not to emulate anymore. Moon's ex--the subject of many a horror story concerning the Valley in Yasmine's absence--can't seem to leave her alone. Whether it's making passes at her when she's very clearly not interested or wrecking her science project because he can't stand to see her happy without him, the guy cannot for the life of him take a hint.

Moon vents at lunch one day that she loved him, and it broke her heart to watch him turn into such a jerk. Yasmine hopes for the sake of her own sanity that her friend is exaggerating.

Because Moon really, really needs to set her sights higher than some possessive creep who gets her name branded on his skin after a month of dating, and then acts like it cosmically bound them forever. The issue is that Yasmine has no idea how to convey this tactfully enough that Moon will actually listen.

For the most part, Yasmine is grudgingly happy that Moon grew a backbone. But she misses when her opinion had more sway, based on force and conviction alone.

It's times like these she wishes the two of them were on speaking terms over the summer. Then Yasmine could've told Moon to fucking run.

Moon's ex gets better, at least. Stops being a raging ass. Actually steps back and respects Moon's relationship with Piper.

(As sad as that thought makes Yasmine, for whatever reason.)

And yet he still watches her walk by with those big, sad eyes of his, like she's eternally the most tear-jerking scene in some depressing drama. When Moon stops to chat with him--friendly and kind, even after everything--whatever she says flies in one ear and right out the other.

It's so fucking pathetic. Hawk puts her on this shining pedestal of divinity and utter perfection--his own personal angel of salvation. But ask the boy so much as her favorite color or her favorite animal or her favorite store at the goddamn mall, he would bluescreen faster than a Windows Vista.

And frankly, Yasmine doesn't give a shit about his stupid fucking redemption arc. Good for him that he's not acting like a human dumpster every second of every day, but Moon isn't obligated to patiently help him wade through the muck of his own bad decisions. Fix and tidy up his perpetual list of issues.

Moon is more than some trophy to hand out for not being a shithead.

She's a whole human being, with thoughts and dreams and hopes and feelings. She likes turquoise jewelry and yoga and California rolls. She wants to be a massage therapist, but is worried it would pay like shit. She likes spending quiet, thoughtful nights walking around hidden corners of the bustling city. She realized she had a talent for baking and cooking when she made weed brownies to give out at school. She loves decking herself out in glowsticks at raves because it makes her feel like some mystical fairy. She listens to mostly electronic and top 40s bubblegum pop, but every now and again, she craves nothing but a good classical piano piece. She adores trashy romcoms, and has only ever been taught to be ashamed of it. Especially by people like Hawk.

And she's the most incredible person in the world.

She’s the reason Yasmine boards that plane back to LAX, if she’s honest.

Sure, it’s got something to do with her father’s frequent pestering about her love life. The exhaustion of constantly faking enthusiasm for a relationship that has only ever been a cover-up. And she isn’t keen on missing junior prom for a ceremony ushering in a stepmom scarcely better than the one who gave birth to her.

But the moment she sees that blue dress, that curled hair, that euphoric beam when Yasmine walks over…

Nothing else at that dumb dance even registers.

And yes, she dances with Demetri. Grinds on him as much as she’s expected to. Even stays for the afterparty to make out with him for good measure. She has to keep up appearances, after all.

But with Moon tired and headed home, Yasmine excuses herself after 20 minutes, suddenly no longer able to stand Demetri's mouth on hers.

In the coming weeks, Moon seems to buy into Hawk's song and dance hook, line, and sinker. Somehow, sad puppy eyes and pining stares and sob stories about how he's "lost his confidence" are enough to make up for him not knowing any more about her than a stranger of the street. All the conversations they've had and dates they've been on and intimate ways they've entwined their bodies, and Hawk has managed to ask Moon so remarkably little.

He's learned so remarkably little about the girl he's convinced is his soulmate.

And it's beyond frustrating to see Moon worrying herself over Hawk's neverending teen angst and annoying inner demons when Yasmine worked to better herself, too--and all she expected in return was a halfhearted pity friendship. When Yasmine's the one who can make Moon laugh without even trying. When Yasmine knows Moon's brunch order and favorite spa treatment. When Yasmine has seen Moon high and wasted and everything in between. When Yasmine's the one who always held Moon's hair back when she yakked her entire stomach contents into the toilet.

When Yasmine's the one who rarely leaves Moon's side. When Yasmine's the one who sits closer than just friends in every restaurant booth. When Yasmine's the one who sneaks longing glances at Moon not out of some mopey self-pity that she can never get the girl, but because she simply can't help it.

She'd look at Moon forever if she could. She'd gladly spend eternity taking in everything that was Moon--everything she'd ever been and everything she'd ever be--and never expect a damn thing for it.

And again and again and again, Yasmine is overlooked. Nothing but background noise in Moon's solemn duty to take care of a boy who will never deserve her.

And it's pathetic, really. Moon had a girlfriend. Kissed her in front of the whole school. Yasmine saw the instagram pics. It's not like Moon isn't open to being with girls that way.

Yet every time Yasmine wants to finally tell the truth, something stops her. Something holds her back. Something whispers in her ear that Moon would laugh in her face. And perhaps it has less to do with them both being girls, and everything to do with how they feel worlds apart these days.

After all, what hope is there for the cheer captain to love you back when all you are is that joke of a Front Wedgie Girl sitting in the bleachers?

[daily-rayless]

Sabin!

Oooo, that's a good one! Sabin's a character I never thought much about when I was younger, but I've come to appreciate him. I think it helps I've come across a lot of great fan art of him, so he's become a surprisingly big presence in my reblogs.

Favorite thing about him:

Just as a surface thing, he seems like such a good guy -- down to earth, passionate, ready and willing to fight for his loved ones. I love his big beefy design. He has some seriousness in his backstory that's there for exploring, but there's also this very fun silliness to him -- holding up the corner of a burning house, diving into a river after Ultros, and of course suplexing the train. I think if I have to cite one favorite thing, it's the potential for humor, how he can do these very extreme off-the-wall things which seem to feel perfectly normal to him.

Least favorite thing about him:

He feels underutilized in the story, especially given he's one of your core party members in the second half of the game. It feels like, character-wise, he has less going on than Celes, Edgar, or Setzer.

Favorite line:

I can't think of any off the top of my head, but his laughing graphic is really cute.

brOTP:

The contrast between him and Edgar is enjoyable. Honestly, I feel like Sabin's bluff straightforwardness could play well with a lot of the party members; someone could write an interesting story about him and, say, Setzer on a mission/heist together, and have no end of fun contrasting them. But I'm going to go with Celes -- she's cold and stern, he's warm and cuddly, but I think they could meet in the middle and have some great character moments -- especially given how they both abandoned the lives other people had planned for them.

OTP:

I don't have one for Sabin. I think, at least at this point in his life, he's not looking for anything big, so if he did get with someone it would be pretty casual. Like with the previous answer, I think he has a lot of potential for fun and humor in any pairing, especially with a strongly contrasting personality, but there's also enough seriousness in his backstory to allow for some deeper, more emotional moments. I've seen some people float the idea of SabinTerra, and that definitely has possibilities -- Terra has very little concept of human love on any level, and Sabin would be able to relate to her as both a friend and a love interest. Plus, you just know he gives good hugs.

nOTP:

None that's a very interesting hot take -- I wouldn't go with Edgar? -- like I said, I haven't put too much thought into Sabin's love life. Even though Sabin's very warm and friendly, I think it might be difficult to write him in some pairings, at least believably.

Random Headcanon:

Oh, I'll have to think of something right now. Okay. Sometimes he misses the ghost that accompanied him on the ghost train. They didn't talk much, but he liked the ghost.

Unpopular Opinion:

Do people have polarizing opinions on Sabin? Hm. I think it's equally valid to draw him with a scruffy beard or without. How's that for controversy?

Song I associate with them:

I thought about this, and I came up with "I'm on My Way" by the Proclaimers. It's very upbeat, a little goofy and bouncy, a little forceful but in a jocular way. I can imagine Sabin singing this under his breath as he mountain climbs (or furiously paddles down the river after Ultros).

Favorite picture of them:

The first one that popped into my brain was this gem:

There he is, covered in who knows what, hauling a whatever-that-is over his shoulder, in the floofiest yellow pants he could buy. He looks absolutely feral, but at the same time, you can see the resemblance to Edgar. I also really like his expression -- gazing off into the distance, something gentle and happy about the set of his mouth. His life isn't for everyone, but it's right for him.

Thank you for the ask!

Meme taken from here.

[dowhatteverer]

A little explanation for my Remnant City Ironwood design

I made his main color blue because it's implied to be that in the show and I wanted him to be separated from Weiss's white

I got rid of the red in his design because that was also a Weiss specific thing to tie her into Ruby, though I do kind of regret taking the red tie away since its supposed to represent his heart, but the emblem on his back is heart shaped anyway so I think I've got a good replacement.

I changed the elements of his design a lot over the time I had it, making it go from a long greatcoat to a more versatile pull over thing. And it is a pull over, that is the only way you can put this thing on

I also started giving him more silver accents to tie in with his tinman allusion. I could have given him silver or grey as a main color, but I thought it looked pretty bland when I made it back when I first started drawing and redesigning him.

I kept the one white glove from he beacon arc outfit just because I thought it was a neat design choice and informs his character somewhat when it comes to his feelings on his prosthetics

I gave him his volume 7 beard because it's my favorite look for him.

I decided to give him more tanned skin than he does in the actual show, not only because the chicken hawk white everyone sported bothered me to hell and back, but because I thought it would be nice for me to give a lot of the Asian characters, including Yang and Ruby, darker skin to combat the colorism in both the show and the FNDM.

I also gave him epaulets with tassels because it is very strange to me that a show heavily based on anime would not give a military character epaulets. Even if Ironwood isn't in the military in this AU, the epaulets were too fun to pass up on. Besides, huntsmen outfits are pretty much allowed to look however they want.

And that's about all I know how to say about it. If you want to draw my design for him, go right ahead! I know at least one person does, so I want to make it clear that if anyone wants to, they have my full permission. Just tag me so I can see your art!

[baejax-the-great]

Hello. How would you categorize Achilles/Patroclus' faces? (Traditionally speaking)Masculine/Feminine/Androgynous? Beautiful/Pretty/Handsome? Any more hcs on how do you picture their looks? Or does it differ among AUs?

Thank you, and have a nice weekend!

I don't know that I usually classify faces this way. I also have enjoyed a lot of different versions of Achilles and Pat and don't think any are particularly "wrong" or anything.

My first introduction into a visual representation of Patroclus was through Hades game, and I am partial to his design there. I also truly love @lady-forest's drawing of Pat here which is close to the Hades design, but a little different. Variations on Hades!Patroclus will always have me all heart-eyes.

A lot of how I envision their faces will depend on their age. Faces change a lot between the ages of 15 and 25. I had a silly post a while back about different artists' representations of Achilles as a girl in Skyros and how they had to choose to make him a hot girl or an ugly girl. Personally I enjoy the hot girl interpretations better.

This one, where he's serving, is a personal fave. But passing for a girl at 15 is a lot easier than passing at 25. And I've known a few very pretty boys who grew into "masculine" looking men, so I don't know that you can really predict.

I've debated what Homer would mean while calling Achilles' the hottest dude in the army. Does he mean the masculine ideal? Is Achilles sort of a perfect average of all idealized traits? Or is he pretty in the way Helen is pretty? The latter seems less likely given the misogyny of the culture as well as Ajax being called the second hottest Achaean in the Odyssey, and at like seven feet tall and built like a tank, I don't know that anyone is depicting him as having feminine features. Another example I think of is Heracles. Based on the sheer number of lovers Heracles had, he was also considered hot as shit by both men and women, and again he's not ever depicted as particularly feminine.

Achilles is a bit different because he represents "youth" in the epic cycle. It's the reason he's rarely depicted with a beard even when he's an adult in a culture that values beards a lot. In that spirit, I tend to try to blend the "masculine" and "feminine" in my mind, a boy whose features could have been girlish who grows up into a beautiful man. So much of what we consider "feminine" in a man is more about styling/affect/the way he moves and carries himself than actual bare bones facial structure, anyway.

As for what I personally envision while writing, it does change depending on AU to an extent, but there are a few constants. Patroclus can and will grow a beard (depending on his age). Achilles cannot and won't. Patroclus has big, brown cow-eyes (in the Homeric sense). I liked Miller giving Achilles green eyes, so I stick with that. I like Pat having a bump in his nose. I give them both long hair, though Pat's is more subject to change. Pat has darker skin than Achilles.

[digital-chance]

steve rogers - a brief (nonsensical) character study/analysis

so i rewatched all the mcu movies with steve roger in them using this lovely youtube video. spoilers for the entire things! consider this your warning.

here's my takeaways in no particular order:

he still wears the same clothing style he wore pre-ice. often button ups, work boots, plain denim jeans, sometimes a leather jacket (often brown). later on in the mcu he started wearing plaid flannels which is funny to me because he does not give a SHIT about modern fashion. give him his old man clothes please and ty. adorable.

marvel did not give the man much character development. they said he's going to go through war and hell and death and fuckery of emotions. sure he's going to learn how to move on but that's off screen and don't really expect much change fuckers. this fucking pisses me off if you can't tell. he's such a long-time character with so many areas where he could be developed and marvel just said fuck that he's an "old man and a soldier with some funny moments" and that's all you're getting.

also he had 5 minutes MAX of screentime in infinity wars :(((( fucking hate that give my man justice

he's so funny????? and so fucking sassy???? like how did I not know this???? love the guy

he broods a ton when he's sad and cracks jokes to cheer others up when they're sad. very sweet but I feel like that marvel could have expanded on this in some way.

he's also very acrobatic which is somehow surprising to me but also at the same time it makes sense??? idk man but you do your flips bbg

also love the way they planned his fights. they really use his full body. reminds me of old greek and roman statues with the flexing muscles. (those are my favorites statues if you can't tell) it's satisfying to watch and I want to draw it or make a statue of him now tyvm.

in endgame tony started talking about his ass which sparked an entertaining side tangent. like you really didn't need to???? but I'll take it. i forgot that steve called HIS OWN ass the "ass of America." I was in and still am in shock from this whole situation.

when he met his other self (or smth I don't remember) in endgame one of the last things he said to other steve was "bucky is alive" (see points below). interesting how seeing the compass with peggy didn't phase other steve much.... also that fight is fucking ridiculous 1000/10

he says so much romantic/gay shit about bucky??? like "even when I had nothing I had bucky." very angsty and homoerotic I love it

the ending with peggy and him being old is plotted so shittily. literal garbage. i wouldn't have minded him being with peggy at all (love her sm btw don't mistake this for me hating her) if they had done it right and given cap a plausible reason and justification for him staying. sure, he misses her. sure, visiting her. but wouldn't staying with her fuck up everything??? literally everything????? like the avengers wouldn't exist everything????????? FUCK that ending.

not exactly fully cap/steve but chris evan's shoulder to waist ratio is absolutely delectable. love that they highlight that with the suits designs.

also what the fuck was infinity wars when he had a fucking beard and longer hair??? loved it but it kind of came out of left field. plus he looked a little silly fighting with the long hair bc it kept getting in his face. you would've thought that he would wear a helmet during that fight but Not Today ig...

last point I promise. but the romance with sharon carter (i forgot her name but i think that's it) was GROSS. whats her face is peggy's GRANDDAUGHTER. so now that he's too old for peggy he had to go for her granddaughter?????? YUCK. especially so because he went to peggy ANYWAYS in the mcu. to the comic writers and marvel: stop. that's fucking gross and quite honestly unneeded.

kind of a serious man with some unexpected twists, like the humor. and that was just the MOVIES. fucking hate some parts of the comics. (why are there so many universes ughhhhh) love steve though what an interesting fellow. might add on more thoughts later if i remember/want to.

[silvertonedwords]

Together, Chapter 3

Together Chapter 3 is here

If you want me to post this here, let me know and I will, but it is 9,000+ words, and that honestly just gets really unwieldy, so, below is a preview.

Dear Newt,

I was glad to read an update on the diricawls. I hope they do well this week. 

We’re wrapping up that smuggling case I’ve been telling you about. Work is still busy. I prefer it that way, although I wish I’d been able to write you yesterday. A new informant came in unexpectedly, and I was at the office until just after one. 

You asked how I am. The truth is: I don’t know. I look for the shoes she left in the middle of the floor—I used to nag her about that endlessly—and for her sewing projects on the side table. I expect replies to my thoughts.

I’m angry at how I left things. But I also don’t know how not to be angry at her for what she’s done. I haven’t always agreed with her choices, but I used to think I could understand them. 

What in Merlin’s name was she thinking in Paris? How could she be so taken in by that man and his bigotry? Especially given how our poppa’s family was treated in Europe. I can’t understand it.

I know that you do not have answers to these questions any more than I do. 

I found a page of notes I’d made when I first read your book—questions and things. I never got the chance to ask them in London or Paris. Would you answer them now, in your letters? I have enclosed the page with this letter.

The drawing that you enclosed of Queenie and Jacob on the evening we all met was wonderful. You’ve captured their expressions perfectly. I suppose I knew that you’d done your own illustrations, but I didn’t realize that you liked drawing people, too. They’re beautiful. Do you often sketch things like this from memory? You mentioned that it feels as though that dinner was ages ago, although it was only the year before last. I agree. Sometimes I think Queenie and I must’ve known you and Jacob forever. 

Did the Zouwu get off alright? Your friend was supposed to get her settled in on the 18th, wasn’t he?

Oh, and I meant to tell you, I put in a request on Monday to exchange more information on Grindelwald’s movements with the Ministry Auror’s Office. The bureaucracy is always a challenge, but at least I know that Theseus and his team understand what’s at stake.

I can see how you’ve described him. He can be quite fixed in the way he sees things. He has good instincts, though, and at times is very perceptive. I’m glad you’ve been looking after him when he needs it. Please look after yourself, too.

I wish I could draw as you do, because I’d send you a sketch of how the city looks this evening. The sun has just begun to set, and it is beautiful.

Tell Pick and the nifflers hello from me. I hope everyone in the case and menagerie is well. 

Yours,

Tina

 The sound of steps in the next room to pulls Tina from sleep. She grabs for her wand and points it at the open doorway. Only as her eyes begin to adjust to the darkness does she recall that the sound might be a house guest rather than an intruder. Mercy Lewis, she thinks, please let it be a nice, mellow creature, and not an erumpent in heat or a bunch of baby nifflers come to find Momma’s shabbat candlesticks.

But as the figure in the doorway reaches a strip of moonlight, she sees that it is not a magical beast at all, but a wizard. Her stomach jolts pleasantly at the recollection of everything that happened tonight. “Newt.”

“Merlin’s beard, I didn’t mean to—“

She follows his gaze to her wand arm, and lowers it, laughing ruefully. “Sorry. Habit.”

“Yes.” His posture relaxes a little. “Of course.”

“Nobody’s gotten out, have they? It’s cold tonight, and—“

“No, no. Not that I know of anyway.” He winces—partly a smile—at his answer, and she laughs softly.

She spends a moment taking in his appearance after a few hours apart. His hair looks darker in moonlight, almost brown, except for the strands that shine copper where the light hits directly. He must sleep in these clothes, for he has changed since she last saw him, into a well-worm pair of trousers and a shirt with a deep open collar. His eyes are tired, but warm. The vulnerability and trust, so clear in his gaze, makes her ache to be closer. 

“I—“ He glances down, as though gathering his words. “I woke and I felt—alone? And I wanted…” She throws her covers off and makes her way to him. He trails off when her hand covers his, and his gaze flies to hers. 

She feels him search her face and hopes he’ll see the vulnerability and trust and warmth she felt, given to him in turn.

He slides his fingers between hers. 

And a breath later, he is in her arms, wrapping his tightly around her and pressing his face into her neck. His hold is fierce. 

“Oh,” she breathes, settling her arms around him. 

He drops a featherlight kiss on her neck. His hands are warm where they rest against her. “Okay?”

She nods into his neck and shoulder. “Of course.” She is grateful for his care in asking, but it is difficult to imagine a world in which this touch could be unwelcome. 

Continue on Archive of Your Own

[wrathbites]

Sorrow shared...

... is a sorrow halved.

They're the hands of a killer and the hands of a healer.  For some they offer aid, and others only pain.

Here, now, confronted with a vampire gargling extra-strength mouthwash and scrubbing his skin raw... here, now, they're gentle, same as his voice, catching Shepard by the wrist and guiding him away from the sink, sitting him down on the floor.

Talk to me, Kaidan says without uttering a word, settling cross-legged opposite him.  Tell me what's wrong.  What could possibly rattle a vampire so?

Waiting out said vampire's stubborn avoidance of an issue is no easy feat, an exercise in patience that has Kaidan watching him comb fingers through the length of his hair and braid it back, only to tease it out and start again no less than five times.  Three times he intercepts Shepard on his return to the sink with a well-timed barrier and raised brow.  And twice he kicks out a leg and taps toes with him, just to draw his attention away from his fingers.  But Kaidan's eventually rewarded, no sign of Chakwas giving up and demanding custody of her medbay back, and Shepard breaks the silence between them with a sigh, loud and sudden, fixing him with a glower that'd be more convincing if it actually remained on him.

"You're not gonna let this one go, are you?"

"Nope.  Whatever that was back there?  Seemed pretty intense."

"That's one way of putting it," Shepard replies, a grumble he directs at the ceiling.

"If you don't wanna talk about it —"

"Do you know how vampires are made, Alenko?"  That shuts him up quick, sits him up straighter.  No.  No, he doesn't.  He knows shockingly little about them considering he's supposed to oversee the life, and potential death, of one.

"I don't, no."

Shepard snorts.  "Of course you don't.  That'd require they pass on accurate intel.  So there's the part everyone and their granny knows — you die.  But after that..." back at his hair again, gaze growing distant.  "After that the memory goes fuzzy.  Understandable, I suppose, given your death, but.  Well.  Some small part of your brain knows."

His tone...  "Did the, uh, mind-meld with Liara knock something loose?"

Silence.

"Look, if you need time to process it —"

"I wasn't the only survivor, Alenko."

"On Akuze?"

"Mn.  There was another —" was "— Strutten.  You know I can't even picture his face?  His eyes?  Whether he had a beard or not?  But he was screaming.  And bleeding."

"Did you kill him?"

"I... think I did?  I remember... well," Shepard lifts his hand to his mouth, gestures to it and the fangs just out of sight, "I remember.  We need blood to complete the change, so I've been told.  Figures death'll come collect one way or another if you cheat."

Shepard's biotic settles then, as if every word spoken has gradually decreased the strain on elastic pulled far too tight, from a roiling mass of icicles stabbing at Kaidan's awareness every second to a smooth expanse of ice he'd be able to skate on, were it real.  But there's something off about it, something... forced.  Like someone knuckling down and bracing for bad news, terrible news, black suits knocking on the door and saying we're so sorry for your loss.  His hands have gone still in his lap, no yarn to fidget with, no dark energy rolling over his knuckles instead of an old-fashioned coin, no fingers twisting or tapping together.

So at odds with the standoffish, in your face approach he'd normally default to.

Then again, letting an asari dumpster dive through the overcooked pasta bowl his brain's been smushed into by alien technology?  Probably also not normal.

In for a credit...

Kaidan thunks his head back against the cabinet, closes his eyes against the overhead light dimmed low on account of Shepard's heightened sight, and goes picking at wounds he'd cauterised years ago.  "If I told you I'd killed someone, would you judge me for it?"

"No?"

"And if I told you I didn't have orders to do so, would you report me for it?"

"Alenko —"

He ploughs on ahead.  "And if I told you I'm the reason BAaT was shut down, that I killed the instructor in self-defense when he pulled a knife on me, right in my face, would you see reason to treat me as an unstable biotic to be locked up and forgotten about?"

Shepard doesn't answer, but it's clear in the horror on his face when Kaidan cracks an eye open to glance at him.  Why would I? Kaidan doesn't tap toes with him this time so much as actually kick his foot, and Shepard reacts with a tingle of dark energy shoving him in the shoulder.

"You wouldn't, would you?"

"No.  I — Alenko you were a kid."

"And you'd just been attacked and turned by a vampire."

"It's not the same."

"Maybe not entirely, no, but it's not far off where it counts, either.  I didn't die, but we both wanted to survive.  We can't hide what we are under scrutiny, but we try to blend in all the same.  And flashbacks, no matter the cause, be it trigger or nightmare or alien meddling, are no fun for either of us."

~

He approaches Liara later, after hiding the mouthwash and soap and tying Shepard's hair back in a bun for him to give his hands an excuse to fixate on literally anything else, to suggest a block on any further mind-melds.  A suggestion she's quick to agree to, shaken in her own right, fingers to her pulse as if to monitor it, eyes still wide and stricken from whatever she witnessed in Shepard's head.

"He can hear every heartbeat on this ship when he's in range, Lieutenant.  It's a torment, a... a temptation, he subjects himself to daily.  I don't think... I don't think he meant for me to see that."

There's a lot you weren't meant to see, he thinks, biting down on it much like he does his tongue.  "Did you learn anything about the vision implanted in his brain?"

"No.  I — I was not... prepared for how loud his... nature would be.  It was... most distracting."

And disturbing, had she witnessed the memory unearthed during the meld, taken a front-row seat to instinct's demand to survive by any means necessary.

A meld neither of them can afford to repeat.  Damn.

~

You're not a monster, Shepard.

Neither are you, Alenko.