#enabled him sometimes? yeah. but he was already either Like That or on the path to being Like That

[julesnichols]

One day (when I've slept enough to both remember enough to make all of my points and be coherent) I'll explain what I meant when I joked about Sophie being worse

[clemencetaught]

*peeks my head out through your floorboards* Ferre, mighty incredible Ferre, what are some headcanons, among those you've already described on dumblr and those you haven't written up publicly yet, that you would love to one day potentially get the chance to build a plot/a thread/a specific scenario around? maybe one you'd like to see in action or think would be useful to Patrick/Myungdae's development to get to write it out once? do you usually try to transport vital headcanons/aspect into new verses by trying to stick as close, be as authentic to the original to create the same vibes, effect, story, or would you rather adapt headcanons/aspects even drastically to make sure they make sense to this New/Different take on Patrick? OR to put it in other words, do you sometimes fit key aspects into verses or do you build the verses around key aspects? have a lovely day~ ♥ >:3 also i've said it before, maybe, but GOSH your urls ARE SO GOOD--

*RIPS THE FLOORBOARDS OFF 4 U LEN ( @mythvoiced ) IT'S OKAY WE CAN REPLACE THEM LATER JFLKSDJFLSDJ *

first of all, lena!! i hope you're having a wonderful day and eating lots of delish food/drinking water bc it is good for u and ur happiness and health <3 &lt;3 <3

what are some headcanons, among those you've already described on dumblr and those you haven't written up publicly yet, that you would love to one day potentially get the chance to build a plot/a thread/a specific scenario around? maybe one you'd like to see in action or think would be useful to Patrick/Myungdae's development to get to write it out once?

secondly, now that that's been established, len if there is an ask that ever enabled me, it is most definitely this one MY GOD ARE WE SURE WE WANT TO LET ME GO DOWN THIS PATH?? anyone who has followed me on my multimuse for at least a month knows i have brainrot for this individual, i did not make the rules, literally when i added him to my blog back in september 2021 ( bruh....time flies :'D ), he grabbed me by the throat and said 'write me or don't try at all' and i had to surrender...i don't think having hyurick helped matters either JFKLSDJFLKSDJF :'D

okay but to get to the meat of ur question, honestly i've been DYING to write patrick in his THG verse ( with a few revisions- haven't had the energy to write anything long form these last few weeks :'D ) espeically since the new THG movie came out ( again yeah i guess the actor playing snow is conventionally good looking but MORE IMPORTANTLY i can't wait to see blonde pretty boy snow get ass kicked in FJKLSDJFKL :'D ), so anything in that verse would be AMAZING...granted it is my fault for not having threads there quite yet just because i've been trying to make a dent in drafts across all three of my blogs since there are some that have been in there for like, months >.< and of course i know that i can take my time, but I PERSONALLY don't like it when i have too many drafts piled up.....so 4 rn i'm trying to a, get thru myungdae's drafts and b, answer plotting messages :'D but once i do that!!! i'm hoping to maybe put out a starter call ( but do u want a starter 4 marìa....i can rite it...4 free :D )

okay but back to ur question along with what we have plotted for patrick & marìa, i actually would?? love to have a thread where i get to explore patrick either during the hunger games week after felicity passed ( bc i also made....revisions to how she died....and how his breakdown went, i can spoil both here- basically the peacekeepers found out she was a rebel and so instead of starting a fire at her workplace, they set her house on fire so she burned to death alongside her family...patrick was forced to watch bc the peacekeepers wouldn't let them escape or let him go inside to save her- and thus when he got back from the 64th hunger games he tried to set his own house on fire....i'm not saying that it was probably a good idea not to leave him alone during that time, but i am absolutely saying, it was probably a good idea not to leave him alone there :/ ). ANYWAYS ENOUGH WITH THE TANGENTS- i'd love to write him during that period and just to see how he manages to find stability/a new norm during the worst(tm) period of his life and how that influences the person he becomes by the time the rebellion starts up....other things though- i did actually want to have like interactions regarding the fact that he smokes ( a lot ) in this verse or that he takes long showers/baths a lot in order to cope they probably do both seem?? innocuous at first glance...i do also have a meta i wanna type out on how his connection to fire in this verse changes in comparison to the other two verses too!

as for the other verses, ironically for all the brainrot i have, i actually am quite?? satisfied with what i have ( thanks to you and our lovely writing partners <3 ) as i never expected?? him to have enough development and connections that it would allow him to have his own blog and while i am ALWAYS open for new connections i think at this point, it more of a matter of seeing how the connections and threads he currently has unfolds rather than starting up more new things :'D

do you usually try to transport vital headcanons/aspect into new verses by trying to stick as close, be as authentic to the original to create the same vibes, effect, story, or would you rather adapt headcanons/aspects even drastically to make sure they make sense to this New/Different take on Patrick? OR to put it in other words, do you sometimes fit key aspects into verses or do you build the verses around key aspects?

AN EXCELLENT QUESTION AS WELL HERE :3 i would say when i make new verses for patrick, i do try keep the essential elements ( ie. being an orphan, felicity and her death, and the motif of fire ) within every verse i make for him as?? these elements of his past really contribute the person he is in the present moment and so without these elements, i just don't?? don't know how different he could be without it still being him it would ring true to him :/ or at least I would feel like i'm writing someone else and not patrick. that being said, i do think part of the reason i do this so far is because at least with verse one and two, well verse two is a derivative of verse one so while patrick and myungdae are vastly different individuals, their base ( ie. their history ) is ultimately the same?? they both more or less have the same core values, which is why i can still write them both and consider them the same 'person' even if their personalities & demeanors are vastly different. in the case of verse three, determining his backstory wasn't so much of creating so much as figuring what his backstory would look like in the thg universe... i guess this is all to say that as long as the base is familiar to me, i am more than willing to write different takes of him- tldr; i think it might be the first option but i might change aspects of those key elements if necessary

THAT BEING SAID, however, i did??? have a sorta supernatural au for him that recently just got spontaneous development bc i was rewatching fr*uits basket but dubbed this time....but the thing is that some of the basic characteristics of his initial character would have to be different here- that and the fact that patrick ( myungdae here ) would be confined to a very isolated location and would be unwillingly to come out if ever for a lot of his arc so i'm not quite sure how well it would do as its own verse....it's kinda based on the sohma curse and the cat's room ( and bc you're probably reading this too, alex dont look these up on wiki if you plan on watching fru*its basket bc this is major spoilers!! )- i can go more in detail about this though if you would like though!!

[howling-harpy]

Perhaps I "don't like hapiness" either 😆 End of an affair with the usual pairings? Thank you 😘❤

You have been influenced by my best friend and now even your delightful spirit is being sucked into the vortex of misery where we dwell and drink too much coffee. Finland. You’re now spiritually in Finland.

Winnix

They are perfect for each other. They didn’t believe in true love or soulmates before, not before they met each other.

Which is exactly why they ignore all the warning signs. They are very different people, from different worlds and lifestyles, and both have their share of problems.

Dick is willing to overlook so many of Nix’s faults. He excuses and even enables his drinking and overlooks it when he’s mean.

Nix is selfish and his affection is unreliable. Sometimes he likes nothing more than to shower Dick with love, and a week later he takes a break for no reason and offers no explanation.

They are both so enarmoured with each other and their perfect relationship that they let all the flaws slide.

When the difficulties arrive, they are completely unprepared and all the troubles shake the very foundation of their relationship that they have defined by its perfection.

They don’t know how to argue productively or communicate.

Dick shuts down and represses everything, becoming reclusive and angry and frustrated. He also feels guilty about enabling Nix and doesn’t know how to help him. All this on top of his own trauma that overwhelms him.

Nix’s addiction gets out of hand with his trauma. He already had that aplenty with his abusive father whom he’s dependent on.

All his demons consume him so fully that he just lets himself take Dick for granted and take his bad feelings out on him because he’s the only one he dares to show his true self to without fear.

Yeah, New Jersey breaks them. Trauma overwhelms them. They are unprepared. They don’t know how to talk to each other when everything is not perfection and bliss or at least as tangible as shelling.

Nix’s flaws, lifestyle, addiction and multiple levels of trauma result in an unrealiable, noncommital rollercoaster that absolutely shatter’s Dick’s heart.

Dick doesn’t know how to articulate any of that, so he packs up and leaves.

Speirton

So doomed from the start that they don’t even try to make it last.

Lipton is married. He has a duty of a husband waiting for him, he vowed so, and he will take responsibility. Love is not an excuse not to.

Speirs knows that he will never have anything permanent. He believes this wholeheartedly and is too tough to allow himself to grieve over it.

He’s romanticized the culture of having affairs in the army like the ancient Greeks and Romans did. When he and Lipton happen, he believes from the start that it is only temporary, something romantic that exists only in secret and briefly in war time, and then it’s to be ended and fondly remembered.

Lipton is in love with Speirs. So much in love in fact that if Speirs were a woman, he’d leave his wife for him.

But Speirs is a man, and Lipton knows there can never be a future for them. Secretly he wishes that his wife would leave him so that he could indulge his impossible daydreams more, but she doesn’t.

Lipton doesn’t count sleeping with a man as cheating. He knows he loves Speirs and that he loves him, but it’s not real or legit in the eyes of society, so it doesn’t count.

They throw themselves into their affair and try to experience a lifetime during the limited time they have and not think of the end.

The end comes naturally. Speirs stays in the army because Lipton just isn’t a part of his life, not permanently.

Lipton is going home to the States and will learn to love his wife again.

They never say goodbye. That way what they had never existed, but also never ended.

BabeRoe

They never admit that they are lovers.

There are certain lines that you just don’t cross if you’re a good Catholic boy.

It’s not like either one is a proper and decent wait-until-marriage Catholic, but with each other that sort of pressure suddenly manifests. Following purity morals in literally every other way makes them feel at ease with the fact that they are both men.

How much feelings can you load into hand-holding? A lot.

How about a kiss? Well, is it even just one if you never stop?

They grabble at each other in the dark, but never cross the line.

They kiss and hold each other and kiss again, even touch themselves while lying next to each other, but that’s it.

This affair never blooms fully, and as such it can’t survive.

There’s too much pain and guilt, too much moral baggage and repenting. Too much sin.

The end of the war and going home hits them hard. They remember just how much distance there’s between them and how they have families and lives to go back to.

They pretend nothing ever tempted them in the first place, but they hug for goodbye for a long time.

Webgott

Seriously... Did they ever stand a chance?

They are too different in every way. Were it not for the army, their paths wouldn’t have ever crossed and they are kept apart by all of it again.

Not that they’d need that.

They have a lot of passion and chemistry, but nothing beyond that.

The war was a time for wild things and temporary flings, and that’s all they’ve built. Everything that would take effort, such as finding time to be together and sharing goals or a lifestyle, they let the army and the circumstances provide for them.

Joe is too full of grief and pain to be able to do anything. He can barely imagine dragging himself home to his family. Building a life with a partner is so far away from his mind that it doesn’t even occur to him.

Web comes to realize he’s been naive. He can’t even begin to understand Joe or what he’s going through. He doesn’t even share most of his experiences of combat. He feels like a stupid young lover who should have known to make himself scarce ages ago.

They don’t really know each other, and the pain and misery are not appealing things to start from.

Everything about them has been sparks and fire, but their departure is quiet and gentle. Their flame fades away, and they slip away from each other without even realizing exactly when it happened.

[lumassen]

How about for the Drabble challenge, either: 39 with Norway, 64 with Finland, or 103 with Iceland? (Not fussed with whoever else appears)

I went Finland and 64 because I had to XD I might do the others we as well though fuck it.

Prompt: “Just don’t buy a goat. I don’t care what you do, just no goats.”

------

Berwald started the car as Tino placed a small lunch bag onto the passenger seat through the rolled down window before he then leant on the car door, his arms crossed, and peered in.

"I've packed some sandwiches for you. Now, send me some cute pics of the animals, just don't buy a goat." Tino shot a warning look at Berwald as he sat behind the wheel of the car, then another at Peter who was strapped in his booster chair in the back seat.

"I don't care what you do, just no goats. Got it?"

"Got it." Berwald and Peter said in unison.

Tino smiled upon hearing their agreement and stood up, patting the roof of the car before he walked back toward the house. Berwald turned the car around in the driveway, then he and Peter waved to Tino as they set off down the dirt track towards the main road. It had been 6 months since they moved to the Finnish countryside. After living in Stockholm for years, Tino started to get fed up with the city and missed his home country greatly after being away for so long, so just before Peter was to start school they decided if they were going to move they should do it now before he got settled and made friends. 

Moving here was the best decision they'd made, and he was happy. Though his Finnish wasn't great he could get by with it, and Berwald was fine speaking Swedish or English in Helsinki with no problems. Out here in Askola however the majority of his neighbours only spoke Finnish or broken Swedish. But Berwald was picking the language up quickly, and Peter was enrolled to start at a Swedish speaking school and would learn Finnish there so it was a little easier on him.

They'd bought a house in Askola, an hour's drive from Helsinki so Berwald could still work in the city, but far enough into the countryside for Tino to be happy. They had quite a lot of land around their red wooden house, and Berwald thought it would be nice if they kept some chickens and bees. And a goat. Tino had entertained the idea of chickens and bees, but drew the line at a goat.

It was summer, and Berwald drove with the windows down, smiling as Peter shrieked and giggled in the back seat as the wind rushed through his hair. He looked out at the fields that stretched out around them, the only signs of life were the other houses dotted around in the distance and the single other car that he'd passed in the couple of kilometres he'd driven already. 

He sighed in content as the farm he'd spotted on his way home from work one evening neared and he flicked the car indicator on and pulled into the visitor car park. 

"Look at the cows!" Peter cried and pointed out of the window as Berwald turned the engine off and got out. 

"Tervetuloa! Kaksi lippua?" (Welcome! Two tickets?) One one of the farm staff asked as she greeted them. She was dressed in a costume of the Elovena girl, complete in her traditional outfit with her blonde hair sticking out from beneath her white headkerchief. Oh Berwald loved the weird and wonderful Finn's.

"Lehmä." Berwald said as he unbuckled Peter from his car seat and set him down beside him, then took his little hand in his and they walked to the entrance of the Country Fair and open day that the farm was holding this weekend.

"That's cow in Finnish. Can you say Lehmä?" Berwald said it again, and Peter repeated the word over and over as he excitedly jumped up and down.

"Joo. Kaksi, kiitos." (Yeah, two please.) Berwald said, and handed her a couple of euros in exchange for two tickets. Then she stepped aside with a smile to let them through and Peter tugged at Berwald's hand, dragging him over so that they could pet the little calves. 

They spent an hour or so wandering round, tasting samples of the farm produce and petting the animals and Berwald was enjoying being out in the sunshine with his son, watching him happily skip along chatting away to both other visitors and animals alike, until he stopped in front of a small pen and gasped dramatically, spinning round on the spot and looked up at Berwald.

"Dad. You might not wanna look in this pen. I mean, you will want to, but you shouldn't." Peter said, though he was grinning mischievously. Berwald stepped forward and peered into the pen and wished he'd taken his sons not to subtle hint.

There, munching on a bale of hay, was a tiny baby goat. He felt Peter tug at his leg and looked down at him,

"Can I pet it?" He said, and ran forward when Berwald nodded. As Peter was petting the goat, Berwald took his phone out and sent a photo of his son and the goat to his husband, hoping to guilt trip him with the cute picture. He sent the message on WhatsApp and almost straight away a reply came through.

12:34 Message from Tino: Yes it's cute, but NO!!!

"But pleeeeease Dad, I promise I'll look after it. Why is Isä okay with chickens but not a goat? It's not fair."

"Isä still says no, doesn't he?" Berwald looked down at Peter and put his phone away again in his jeans pocket and crouched down to Peters level, slightly amused that Peter knew exactly what he'd tried to do. His son was too like him sometimes, as Tino would say when he scolded them for ganging up on him.

Berwald nodded reluctantly, and Peter whined, leaning against Berwald's shoulder.

Peter was always Berwald's cute little enabler when it came to desicions that he was torn by, and although he loved Tino dearly, it was two against one on the subject of a pet goat. Besides, Tino liked cute things and would eventually come around. Right?

-----

"Alright Peter. You stay here while I speak to Isä. Keep still and I'll come and get you when Isä has calmed down a bit." Berwald said over his shoulder as he glanced at Peter, who sat clutching the baby goat. There were dirty hoof prints all over the back seat of the car, and Berwald was glad of the fact that the farm wasn't a far drive down the road or the Poliisi hadn't driven by to witness a goat on the rear window shelf at one point. 

"Okay! Good luck!" Peter grinned, and Berwald knew he'd need it and then some.

He unbuckled his seatbelt and got out of the car just as Tino was walking down the garden path. Before Berwald could reach him or even say anything, Tino stopped dead in his tracks and Berwald felt the blood drain from his face at the expression on his husband's face. It was the expression of a man who'd just spotted his son clutching a baby goat.

"Rakas? Is what what I think it is in the back of our car?" Tino said, his voice dripping with rage despite the use of his pet name for Berwald. 

"Tino, I can explain. It was Peter's idea." Berwald said, his voice cracking nervously as he hurried over to Tino, grasping his hand for a second before he snatched it away. 

"Uh-huh, so Peter has a credit card now does he? With enough money to buy a fucking goat?" 

Tino's glare was harsh enough to bore holes right through Berwald's skull.

Berwald opened his mouth to try and calm Tino down, but at a loss for words he just stood there with his jaw gaping.

"Well that went better than I thought. Best not talk to Isä for a few hours though." Berwald warned, and Peter cheered, startling the goat a little.

"Fine. You can sleep in the barn with it then." Tino said, turning on his heel and stalked back towards the house, slamming the front door closed behind him.

Sighing as he ran his hand over his face, Berwald walked back to the car and opened the rear door to find Peter and the goat both peering at him with wide eyes.

"Hooray! So does that mean we can keep her?" Peter asked, and Berwald shrugged.

"I think so. Though I should probably invest in a sleeping bag..."

------

Isä = dad in Finnish

I absolutely loved this thank you so much Random for the prompt :’) This was inspired by a ‘cow party’ I went to in Askola when I was staying with my friend who lives there, so there are some aesthetic pics below plus a stock image of how I imagine Peter and the goat. Tada!

[fbdo1986]

so idk if you’ve done it yet but #5 on that prompt list w ot3 i think wld be beautiful 🥺💞💖

I hi yes!!! i finally got to the actual first prompts you sent!!! thank you for this lovely lovely request!! i took a few liberties with how to interpret the prompt but i really hope you like it (it’s actually quite long, whoops!) 

so here it is! prompt #5: where it doesn’t hurt with the ot3! (yes, all three this time!) which i’ve aptly titled firestarter, after the haley blais song by the same name. (which i definitely recommend listening to while reading, it fits so well.) because it’s so long it will be after the cut!

I step back from the fire

I learned to keep my distance, the path of least resistance 

Cameron’s chest aches with the feeling it always has, he guesses. Or always had. It’s hard to tell the difference, or remember, when suddenly your present reality is much more memorable than the past. It’s pretty insufferable, in some ways, and certifiably pathetic in others. He doesn’t know how long he’s been like this, but it’s not going anywhere. That he knows.

It’s a million and one unhealthy, wounding adjectives all balled into one—that’s the consistent Cameron Frye experience as of late. Harsher, in the way they seep, much further than any of the words his father could spit at him. Yet, when all your brain seems programmed to do is to wish, incessantly, that you were kissing your two best friends every moment you’re with them, a response this cruel almost seems tame. He can mind the ache, but such an animalistic urge feels particularly unsettling.

It’s unbearable. Not their company, that’s always been the saving grace of the situation, but such a need. A sensation so physical, so innate, that his body begs for it, that it distracts him when he’s right in front of them, so much that he can barely stand sitting there sometimes, is too much to handle. 

And it worsens, every day, because now he’s not just hiding his feelings from them, but he’s hiding this too. And he’s never had anyone else. That’s the catch. He has them. It either stays inside, or it goes to them. The latter is an outright impossibility, but as the weight grows and grows, what choice does he have? Until he remembers. It’s a long shot, completely, but even such a fraction of hope takes a much needed weight off of his shoulders.

“You have to swear. Look, I don’t really need these types of precautions every day, but I need your complete and total confidence.” He looks Jeanie Bueller dead in the eyes from where he sits across from her. It’s funny, in a way. Jeanie is his oldest friend, aside from Ferris. And that he needs someone to keep a secret for him. He’s lucky, he doesn’t really have use for secret keepers after Ferris and Sloane start having that magical ability on him that makes him want to share the things he only kept for himself. Nowadays, his secrets are either his or they’re theirs.

“Jesus! What’s gotten into you?” Jeanie interrogates. “Barely any hello, and suddenly you’re getting all intense on me. Are you feeling alright?” Her brows furrow. 

“Yeah, Jean, I’m alright.” He tries to make himself relax, but it’s a fruitless task. “I just… I don't really have anyone else to talk to about this, and well, I trust you.”

“It’s about my brother, isn’t it?” She lays it on him bluntly. There’s no bullshitting Jeanie.

“How did you know?” His face reddens.

“It’s pretty easy to realize that if a guy can’t turn to his childhood best friend for something, it’s gotta be about him. Besides, I can be objective.” She smiles at herself for that one.

“I mean, it’s about Ferris… and Sloane.” That confuses her. As far as Jeanie knows, he goes to them with everything. She doesn’t think that there’s anything wrong with their friendship, they seem happy, so who is she to wonder? 

“Just… don’t get ahead of yourself just yet, okay? I’m trusting you with a lot here. Like, a lot.” Cameron hangs his head, defeated. “Just swear, okay?”

“Fine, fine. I’m swearing.”

“I mean, be serious here, Jeanie!” He leans forward, hands gripping the armrests of the chair he sits in tightly.

“I am being serious!” She blows out a breath of air sharply. “I’m sorry. I’m glad you trust me. You can trust me.”

His shoulders lower in a sigh. He’s satisfied, but that doesn’t stop the swirling pit of anxiousness that inhabits his stomach from reminding him of its presence. He thinks that maybe this is the first step to getting rid of the bullshit that’s made his life so much more difficult these past few weeks, so he’s got to be willing to let that process happen. The sooner he can let it out, the sooner he can start moving forward.

“I don’t even know where to start.” He’s already overwhelmed, and all signs really do point to abandoning ship.

“Wherever feels best,” Jeanie offers him in support. It’d be weird to try and offer a hand on his shoulder now, since there’s quite a few feet of space in between them, so she gives him a small smile instead.

A few moments pass where neither of them say anything. Quickly Cameron realizes he hasn’t even made up his mind of how much he wants to say, let alone where to begin. He doesn’t know if the beginning means the beginning, in which case the two of them will be here for a while. He thinks they might be anyway, because he’s absolutely stalling, so he just needs to say something. Anything.

“I need your help. Because… because part of this I can live with, and part of it I can’t. I’ll get to that, eventually, I guess.”

“Is everything okay? Are you guys okay?” She inquires. She means a fight, if they’ve fought. As though they need fixing up of broken pieces. He wishes it were that simple.

“Yeah, no, we’re fine. I mean, we’re not fighting or anything.” He’s awful at clarifying. “Fuck. You know what, no. I don’t want to put you through this. This is stupid.” He starts getting up from where he’s sitting.

“Come on, Cameron. You haven’t even told me what it is yet. I want to help you.” She looks at him solidly. Her eyes, the color of Ferris’s, reflect how genuine she is.

“Okay. No, you’re right.” He lowers himself back into his seat, and she does what Ferris does so well, communicating without saying anything. She’s leaning forward, her elbow propped on top of her knee, and her chin sits on top of her fist. He can hear it: ‘So…?’

A big breath in. “I’m in love with Ferris and Sloane. And I have been for months now.” He knows it’s been longer, but this is when he first started acknowledging it. “And, and I’m okay with that. I think. I’ve gotten used to sitting with it. I just… there are things that I’ve been experiencing recently… that aren’t as easy to deal with.” The same breath out. 

“So you were right. That was a lot.” Her voice raises, drawing out the phrase a bit.

Cameron covers his face out of embarrassment and dread. Jeanie flounders, trying to let him know what she means. “But that’s okay.” She breathes out a sigh, looking at him intently. She wants him to do the same. “What do you need help with?”

He follows her orders, breathing out. His pulse slows. “You don’t mind?”

She smiles at him. “Of course I don’t. There’s nothing wrong with loving someone. Even if it’s two people. So, let me in. What do you need?” 

“Basically…” He forces himself to get the words out quickly. “It’s gotten… bad. So bad that I… all I can think about is wanting to kiss them. It-it’s like I need to. Sometimes it gets hard to even just sit there. Like my body is begging me to do it. I can’t stand it.” Jeanie notices the way he’s digging at the fabric of his shirt, the way his eyes narrow in disgust as he looks inside himself.

He brings his eyes up to her finally, desperately. “I need you to help me get rid of that. That… feeling.” He clenches his fists.

“I know this isn’t what you want to hear, but something tells me that it’s gonna stay unless you deal with it. Plus, it’s kind of romantic. To love someone that much.”

“Yeah, sure. ‘Romantic’ is what keeps me awake at night in self hatred. It feels wrong. I feel wrong.”

“Cameron, please. You’re a really sweet guy. You’re not a creep, you’re literally trying to stop yourself from doing what you’re not sure they want. Don’t do that to yourself.”

“What choice do I have?” He’s desperate for a solution. 

“Telling them.”

“Yeah, right.” He scoffs. “The only way that would be a possibility is if I do it on April Fool’s Day and back out if they don’t reciprocate.”

“You know, that’d be kind of hilarious if I didn’t know you were serious.”A smile forms on her face, but it disappears just as quickly as it came. “But also kinda fucked up.” 

Cameron looks at her, eyes full of irritation and defeat.

“Look. I think the thing you should be most concerned about is just the fact that they’re in a relationship.”

“What’re you saying?”

“I’m saying, I think you’d have a pretty good chance with either of them if they were single.”

“Even Ferris?” He’s clueless as to how she can actually believe that. 

“Hey, contrary to popular belief, I’m not exactly up to date on my brother’s personal life. Especially who he’s going out with. That is completely none of my business. He does lots of stuff I don’t know about. The guy has no moral compass. He’s completely unburdened by the weight of modern society.”

Cameron’s heart skips a beat. “So you think it’s immoral?”

“Of course not! All I’m saying is Ferris doesn’t give two shits about what other people think of him. I’m pretty sure the only opinions he cares about are yours and Sloane’s.” 

“That’s funny. He did consult me before asking her out.”

“Did that… upset you?”

“I mean, no. I’m glad that he trusts my opinion that much. I couldn’t have him say no. I knew.”

“So that means you…”

“Had feelings for Sloane then? Yeah. I loved her since the moment I met her.”

“And Ferris?”

“That took longer, but… something told me, even then, I wanted him by my side forever.” He waves his hands in front of her suddenly. “Anyway, stop. You’re supposed to be helping me, remember? Not enabling me.”

“I’m offering you a solution. And if nothing else, giving you an outlet. Clearly you needed this.” All Cam can do is laugh, because she’s completely right. He runs his hands over his face.

“So listen. Not to the voice that wants you to hurt, but to what your body is telling you. That doesn’t mean you should go up to them and kiss them without warning, but your heart wants something. Now, I don’t want you to feel like I’m not taking your concern into account, because I understand that, but I don’t want to disregard me totally because the voice inside your head speaks to you more. It knows where you’re weak, and it feeds on that. Give your heart a try. Give them a try.”

A few moments of silence. “How can you be so sure?”

“I’m not. But I don’t want you to wallow in what’s only making you feel worse with absolutely zero hope. You deserve to love and be loved, and I know that out of anyone, you should choose it for them. You owe it to yourself. You do.”

“I’ll think about it.” Cameron fights a smile. “Thank you, Jeanie. I mean, really. Thank you.”

“Of course.” They get up from their places, and Jeanie can’t help but give Cameron a hug. It makes him laugh, and gives him a sense of stability he doesn’t realize he’s been craving.

So Cameron coasts along, the oppressive feeling his body is used to carrying is a little lighter. He jokes with himself, claiming that this is the cure, and now he has no need to worry. Yet deep inside, where little flames still lick at the embers, there’s the knowledge that this lightness has only come over him because there is something deeper inside that he’s now worried about releasing. And besides, it isn’t fool-proof. 

In fact, on a pleasant, spring day in April—he’s fully abandoned the plot for the first of the month—it burns more than ever. And honestly, anything, even the prospect of ruining everything, feels better than how mangled and wrong this feels. 

“Hi, guys.” It’s a weird way to start, but it’s all he has. He practiced lines for this, like a valiant actor who put the script to memory, but they start to slip from him, quicker and quicker, as the thrumming of his heartbeat becomes the only sensation he can really latch onto. His lips are numb, it feels as though any word could slip out loosely without paying attention, but he feels so far away from where his head is. There’s nothing holding him together, nothing tangible except for the fact that he’s still physically in one place.

“Hi, Cameron.” Sloane begins, eyes full of light like they always are.

“Hey, Cam.” Their smiles are sweet, both laughing at their same joke, and it’s excruciating not to follow through with the motions his body keeps incessantly suggesting. Oh, how little they know. It’s endearing, how lovely and innocent they look. He prays the light doesn’t fully go out of their eyes when he drops this on them. So he takes precautions where he can, as if that will cushion the blow.

“I need you-I need to talk to you about something.” Already off to a rocky start. How fitting. He huffs out a sharp breath. 

“What’s going on?” Sloane asks first, again.

“Yeah, what’s up?” They both lean forward slightly.

Cameron finds it especially cute that despite their function as a pair, they always answer him separately. He wants to push down these observations, his wandering thoughts, even now. But he shoves the shame away, because that’s not getting him closer to spitting it out.

He looks at Ferris and swallows hard, but tries to keep his voice lighthearted. “If this completely blows up in my face, blame your sister.” He doesn’t want that, but he knows that Jeanie would understand. It would take some of the sting away, and she would be okay with that. They would know, too, that it wasn’t her fault. It’s just to clear the air, to give him some comfort in the last few moments that are unburdened by confession.

Sloane’s eyebrows raise quizzically, but Ferris takes it all the same. “That can be arranged.”

“Man, I really didn’t plan this out enough.” A dry laugh escapes his lips. They look at him with curiosity.

“Okay. Basically, you two mean everything to me. It’s silly to say, I guess, but you know as well as I do how true that is. Hell, you make me feel like the main character in my own life. I don’t know how to talk about it, but I’d be pretty hopeless without you. And something inside me just, really hopes you feel the same way. I mean, I don’t want you to feel hopeless without me, but—shit. Why is this so difficult?”

Their eyes are fond, still, albeit harboring a bit of confusion. “Of course we do.” Sloane confirms, softening.

“I mean, it’s kind of fun. It’s like we’ve uncovered some secret that no one’s found out about. Cameron Frye, the key to eternal friendship.” Ferris says, gesturing dramatically. “I think at this point if I saw you hanging out with anyone else I’d have a heart attack and also never forgive you.” 

Cameron can’t help but laugh. But it fades away all too quickly, and he’s left in the same headspace that ties his stomach in knots. He’s more than just that secret. 

“See, that’s where it gets hard. For me. There’s just so much of this that I’ve been holding back. That I can’t hold back. Maybe I’m a fool, but I’m tired of… I’m never going to get tired of you. But I’m so tired of feeling like I’m destroying everything that this is just by being around you. I hate that my heart wrings every time I look at you. I hate… needing you this much. I need you, in a way I’m not supposed to.” He looks up at them finally, hoping they understand. Willing them to understand. Finally, finally, it quells. The burning ends, because he feels as though he could jump out of his skin. 

“You mean…?” Ferris asks in a quiet voice.

“Mm-hm.” Cameron nods, face heating with shame. They understand, and he breaks. Tears start falling down his cheeks, his vision blurring quickly. He’s almost grateful he can’t see them, can’t tell what’s in their heads by the expression on their faces. 

“Aw, Cameron, no. It’s alright.” Ferris consoles him, and Sloane joins him immediately at his left side.

“Please, Cam. Don’t cry.” They’re wiping his tears away with their thumbs, and everything inside him wants to shake them away. Shake his head furiously, shout, tell them no. He doesn’t want to be pitied. He can’t tell what this means, but he can’t take what happens next if it starts like this. Maybe they could love him, if they felt bad enough for him, and even someone so incredibly alone and desperate to be wanted like him knows that’s not fair. But he’s already sobbing, and he’s left with no choice. Letting them.

“It shouldn’t hurt this bad. Love. It doesn’t need to hurt this much.” Sloane tells him, looking into his eyes. How badly he wants to let it out, sadly. ‘Mine does.’ She’s still holding him, solidly, and stroking his cheek. But it’s not them. He hopes they know that. It’s always been him, the source of it. They’re meant to be loved, that’s not the problem. Just not by him, not like this.

“You got all ahead of yourself, Cam.” Ferris speaks to him softly, voice warping with concern. “You didn’t even hear us out.”

There was supposed to be no response. That was strictly for dreams, for the parts that deserved to be pushed away. 

“To be needed. That isn’t so bad, is it?” Sloane smiles, asking him earnestly.

“No, no.” He musters up the strength to tell them. “You can’t. Not like this. Not because I made you do it. Not because I made you feel bad.”

“You’re not making us do anything. We made this decision, this realization, all by ourselves.” Ferris convinces him, holding onto his hands. “Before this.”

“What?” It shakes Cameron out of it, almost completely.

“When we skipped school. After everything. Even after just… a second of having to maybe be without you… it was like the world had collapsed. We couldn’t handle it. We talked about it. After you left.” Ferris says.

“We need you, too.” Sloane looks in between them for a moment, then locking eyes with Cam in certainty.

“In the way we’re not supposed to. You just, fit. You talk about us, how much we’ve done for you. How much you need us, how much we’ve helped. But you… you’re everything. You complete us, the both of us, in a way we didn’t even know needed completing. We need you as much as we need each other. Love you, as much as we love each other.” Ferris lets that sink in. 

The word can barely escape, but Cameron needs clarification. “Love… me?”

“Yep. Isn’t that how you feel?” Ferris asks.

Cameron nods.

“Fully and completely.” Sloane confirms.

Cameron starts to cry again, but there’s a release of joy in it. Pent up pain, shame, and hurt, finally washing away. He laughs, gasping for air as his eyes brighten. Within a few moments, the unthinkable happens. Ferris presses a kiss on his lips, and then retreats for Sloane to do the same. They take turns like this. They don’t care that Cameron’s still in the aftermath of tears, that there’s the occasional hiccup of breath, that there are tears that dampen their faces. The way Cameron kisses them back with a purity, with a mutual exchange of need, want, and the loss of a weight that they feel so much freer without, nothing else in the world could possibly matter.

[chxoticmuses]

SHIP QUESTIONS THINGY

Status: Accepting

@streetsofsecrets​​ said: our ships?? 🥺 ( Janie & Nick )

PRE-RELATIONSHIP

How did they first meet?: At school. They had three classes together and lunch, so they crossed paths a lot. Eventually he started asking her for the homework all the time and their friendship grew every time he asked.

What was their first impression of each other?: Janie couldn’t stand him. She thought he was the most annoying person in the world, but he was cute so she still talked to him.

Did any of their friends or family want them to get together?: Janie’s friends pushed her to make moves on him all the time and cease the opportunity to be with him. I feel like Delores enabled their relationship a lot too, or at least the positive aspects of it.

Who felt romantic feelings first?: Janie. Even though she thought he was annoying, she found him very cute and had a crush on him long before he even talked to her for the first time.

Did either of them try to resist their feelings?: Yeah, Janie tried so hard not to be attracted to him because he annoyed her so much, but that charisma caught up to her and has had a hold on her since.

If you had told one of them that the other would be their soulmate, what would they think?: That there’s no way in hell thats possible after what they’ve put each other true, but then after thinking about it some more I think they’ll be like “Well, we keep coming back to each other so maybe that does make sense.”

GENERAL

Who initiated the relationship, and how did it go?: Neither of them really? Like it wasn’t until their adult years that anything really became official between them and even then they never spoke a tittle into existence.

Did they have an official first date? If so, what was it like?: It was at that cute restaurant you sent me on Discord and it was kind of awkward since it was their first time acting like they were officially a thing, but the night went really well. By the end of the night they had loosened up and already had their second date planned out.

What was their first kiss like?: Very cute!! It was giving very much 2000s teen romcom. Something straight out of a Disney channel movie, but not a cringey one.

Were they each other’s first anything (kiss, relationship, etc.)?: Nick was Janie’s first every, to be honest.

What’s their height difference? Age difference?: The way I don’t know the answer to either of these questions really skskskks. All I can say is that I’m pretty sure they’re the same age just with some months between them since they did go to school together.

What’s their relationship with each other’s families?: Janie is very acquainted with the other Scozzari’s and even considers herself to be friends with Cassandra. She never really introduced her family to Nick. Maybe a dinner one night with the Scozzari’s, but she never really brought them around after that. Her mom didn’t like him much, thought he was a street rat, but Janie never cared about what she thought.

Who takes the lead in social situations?: Janie. She has a reputation to maintain and she’s afraid that one day Nick will mess that up with either his words or actions, so she takes control 90% of the time.

Who gets jealous easier?: I think it’s safe to say that after everything he’s put her through relationship wise, Janie is definitely more jealous. It’s borderline toxic. She be on her Joe Goldberg shit sometimes.

LOVE

Who said “I love you” first?: Isn’t it surprising that it was Janie? She was visiting him while he was in juvie and just let all her feelings spill out to him.

What are their primary love languages?: Definitely touch. Janie doesn’t know how to express a lot of things with words, something she’s still working on, so she turns to actions a lot to speak for her.

How often do they cuddle/engage in PDA?: Not often. Maybe when they were back in high school you’d catch them pressed up against a locker in the hallway or holding hands while walking the street, but these days she barely even lets him hold her hand in public.

What are their favorite things to do together?: Kill people! Mhm, yep. That’s it that’s all. But really, besides that I feel like they still like planning out mixtapes and CDs together.

Who’s better at comforting the other?: ERM, SKIP! That’s something that they both really need to work on, but Janie tries sometimes by asking him questions to make sure he’s okay.

Who’s more protective?: Wow, that’s a very great question 😅 I’m going to go with Nick. They’re both really protective over each other, but I feel like Nick is the one who would go the extra mile for her and do the most.

Do they prefer verbal or physical affection?: Physical affection. It’s just so much easier for the both of them.

What are some songs that apply to their relationship, in-universe or otherwise?: Hit Different by SZA and basically every 80s song that’s about love or breakups.

What kind of nicknames do they call each other?: I feel like Nick has some cheesy nickname from their childhood for her, but Janie just calls him Nick, Nicky, or maybe something silly like “Macho man.”

DOMESTIC LIFE

If they get married, who proposes?: Was it really a proposal? I feel like he just said something like “I wanna marry you fr fr” while he was in jail and they considered themselves engaged after that.

What’s the wedding like? Who attends?: If Janie was able to have it her way they wouldn’t have a wedding at all but a courthouse type situation, but to please the family they had a small fancy venue wedding. It was mostly Nick’s family, Janie’s coworkers, and friends from their childhood.

How many kids do they have, if any? What are they like?: The twinnssss!! They’re quite the handful personality wise and honestly kinda boujie. They were the type of kids who would be like “My mama said you can’t come inside because you steal our stuff😐” straight to your face and have to face the repercussions from their parents later. They’re very cunning children who know how to get their way and make things work in their favor, inheriting the most deceptive traits from their parents.

Do they have any pets?: CHOWDER!!! And if he were to ever have offspring, they would keep those puppies too.

Who’s the stricter parent?: Definitely Janie. She still carries a tiny amount of the generational trauma that’s been passed down in her family, so at times she can be a little too strict. I feel like the twins are more scared of her than their dad when it comes to getting in trouble.

Who kills the bugs in the house?: Janie does. She really doesn’t mind them like that.

How do they celebrate holidays?: Isually they go with Nick’s family and spend the day with them or stay home and spend it with each other.

Who’s more likely to convince the other to come back to sleep in the morning?: Nick is convincing her. She wakes up early as hell for work disrupting everyone else’s sleep all the time. He has definitely told her on one than more occasion “Just come lay back down, that job can wait!”

Who’s the better cook?: Janie. She lived alone for quite sometime and had no choice but to learn how to cook.

[thisisasupergoodidea]

the magic amulet

part 6

———

Before anything else, Rogelio does at least go into the workshop to inform someone of the situation. He has become something of a protector to this town- and a specialist whenever the Magic Guy is involved, as he so often is- which means that many of the townsfolk tend to cut him a bit of slack during times of great threat or uncertainty. They don’t claim to like doing that, but it’s hard to argue against it when imminent doom is threatening your way of life.

...And so what if he sometimes cheats the system a little bit to get some extra sleep? Maybe a fella needs a break from responsibility every once in a while.

Anyway. His peers believe him this time, because Dani might be a bit of an enabler but they all know she has never been a liar. The two of them are able to make it back to Rogelio’s house fairly quickly to gather supplies, but still, by the time they’re ready to go it’s well into the afternoon. If they go now, the return trip will be made in the dark. But if they wait til morning, they’re giving magic guy more time with the magic thing.

So they don’t wait. Rogelio’s mother is of the opinion that they’ll ‘probably be fine’, a sentiment Dani shares, and that’s all the encouragement Rogelio needs. He stands at the threshold of his dwelling listening to his friend rattle off supplies in monotone for their final check.

“...Lantern fuel?”

“Got it.”

“People fuel?”

“Yep.”

“Bandages?”

“As if I’ll need ‘em... but yes, we do have those.”

“Great. So that’s everything.”

“Then let’s go already!” Rogelio secured their travel pack and slung the strap over his shoulder. “I hate the idea that he thinks he’s getting away with this.”

“We’re going, we’re going. Save that energy for when we actually get there...”

Despite the initial feeling of urgency and/or (but mostly or) umbrage for the issue at hand, Rogelio and Dani take their time walking the one path. They’ve walked it before, though not recently, and vaguely recall that it can take a couple of hours to cross at a good pace and less than an hour at a reckless pace. Their strategy this time is to split the difference.

The forest in later light bristles ominously before them, the long stripes of sun and shadow making it all appear twice as dense. But there to guide them is the singular, well-traveled, well-established dirt path that winds through it. As long as they stay on that path, there’s absolutely no danger of getting lost. So they do that.

Oh sweet summer air, they’d forgotten how completely forgettable this forest is. They are literally forgetting what the scenery behind them looked like as they pass it, that’s how same-same it all is. If it wasn’t literally impossible to get lost unless you strayed from the path on purpose, they would be in too deep and deeply in trouble at this point. But, as it is, the greatest concern either of them have is how slow time seems to be crawling as the sound of their own footsteps threatens to bore them to death. The return trip promises to be equally as exhilarating.

“I can’t believe you willingly come into this forest almost every day,” Rogelio says to break the crunchy monotony of the scene. “Fire isn’t even worth it, in my opinion.”

“Rogelio at dinnertime would disagree with you... I mostly stay on the outskirts, though. No point traveling this far in for wood when you can just trim the edges.”

“Yeah. But d’you ever wander through purely to sightsee? To really take in the fresh air and ~nature~?”

“There’s fresh air and nature everywhere.”

“Not like this!” Rogelio pats the nearest tree as he walks by it. “There could be a special tree here, growing the finest wood you’ll ever work with. Or any number of intriguing secrets hiding just out of view.”

Their eyes briefly search beyond the path in opposite directions, bidding the secrets to reveal themselves serendipitously. Rarely does Dani dip her hand in the wellspring of improbable optimism, but Rogelio makes it seem so easy... occasionally she can’t help but hope a little bit herself. She doesn’t see anything. She never does.

Rogelio, meanwhile, spots a neat squirrel.

———

first - previous - next

[alienaesthetical]

Ah, the 90s- a decade of questionable fashion choices, dial-up internet, and shape-shift-enabled teens with depression.

Some of you may remember Animorphs as those wacky adventures with kids who could change into animals. Others might remember it as the series of books featuring kids who watched an alien be cannibalized in front of them, going on to fight a cult, attempt suicide, commit genocide, and attain PTSD.

In all truth, my memories of it were completely vague, with what images I could remember mostly based off of one of the extended universe novels, Andalite Chronicles. Having completed a reread of the series a few months ago, however, I was able to put together my own thoughts.

So, which was it; Tragedy or Comedy? Why do people remember it differently? Let's answer the former question first. Spoiler warning, by the way.

Animorphs was co-written by K.A. Applegate, and her husband, Michael Grant- both of which are still successful writers. The story starts in the spring of 1997, local teens, Jake, Rachel, Cassie, Marco, and Tobias, exist as a clique in a way- each representing the awkwardness of the 90s in different ways. Jockey Jake has an awful haircut, Gymnast Rachel, initially, is the living embodiment of gender roles enforced in the 90s, Horse Girl Cassie experiences discrimination multiple times throughout the series due to her skin color, Marco is the groups token funny guy who has too much flirting energy, and Tobias, the local victim of literally the entire series. Seriously, this kid does NOT get a break. The entire group is just overtly 90s and it's honestly quite awkward and sometimes humorous how enforced these roles are from the start. Anyways.

The group of friends are heading home from the mall, and decide to take the shortcut through a construction zone- (and yes, I realize how many stories begin with taking sketchy shortcuts.)

As they proceed through the construction zone, a ship descends on them, its doors opening to reveal a dying Andalite named Elfangor. What's an Andalite? Breaking it down to the essentials, a four eyes, blue furred deer with a scorpion tale and a nose that should probably be censored.

Elfangor, who speaks telepathically, tells the kids about the battle for earth- an invasive species known as the Yeerks have already integrated themselves into society, and pose a threat to the entire galaxy. Yeerks are basically slugs that slither into your ear and take over your body- while you remain 100% aware, most likely crying in a corner.

While the kids are skeptical, they don't fight him on it, and agree to help. Elfangor gives them a cube called the Escafil Device- a cube that grants those who possess it the ability to shape-shift into any animal they touch. He warns them, though, that staying in morph for more than two hours will result in being trapped in that body forever. After all six are holding the cube together, more ships arrive.

The kids go to hide as one of the descending ships opens, revealing another Andalite- this one, however, is being controlled by a yeerk named Visser Three- the only yeerk to have ever possessed an Andalite. He proceeds to morph into a creature from another world, and vores Elfangor.

The kids are heard crying by one of the alien guards, and a chase begins- though the kids manage to escape without being seen. They go on to have nightmares about what they just saw. Jake is woken up by Tobias the next day, who claims he managed to turn into his cat. Jake, hearing this, touches his own dog, acquires his DNA, and morphs into him- much to his own surprise.

Later, the group meets up at Cassie's barn, which also acts as a rehabilitation center for animals, thanks to Cassie's parents being vets for a local wildlife amusement park. They discuss what to do, and while trying to forget everything was an option, decide to fight back against the Yeerks. Now knowing the basis of the plot, you can see how this story could be seen as a lighthearted adventure full of shenanigans- but as the books continued to come out, the story grew darker.

Jake's brother, Tom, is revealed to be a high status controller- a person under control of a yeerk. Jake now has a personal stake in this battle, and begins to take it more seriously. Jake goes on to find out that The Sharing, an after-school program dedicated to helping kids fighting loneliness and depression, is actual a cover for the Yeerks, who use the society as a cult that recruits said kids into their ranks- which is how Tom fell into their hands.

Jake and the others decide to infiltrate a yeerk pool- a place where Yeerks go to feed on Kadrona Rays, which is what the sun on their home planet exerted. They find an entrance within their school, and break a handful of people out, only for all but one to be recaptured, or murdered. In addition to this failure, the kids notice that Tobias is also missing.

Tobias would later escape only to inform the group that he had been in hawk morph for a bit too long, and was now stuck in that form forever. All of this happens in the first book alone. Perhaps you're starting to see how it could be interpreted as a darker story, but you're not quite convinced. So, let's talk about what happens it the other sixty four books.

In book three, Tobias attempts suicide, trying to slam himself hard enough into glass that it would kill him. Marco, however, throws a baseball just in time for him to fly safely through the glass.

In book four, Marco discovers that his mother, previously thought to have drowned years ago, is Visser One, the highest commanding yeerk outside the council.

In book five, Elfangors younger brother, Aximili, is discovered, weak, leagues under the ocean, having crashed there the same night Elfangor died.

Still expecting this story to be happy in the end? Gonna kill that delusion right now.

Thanks to having dead parents, Tobias had been physically and emotionally abused by his aunt and uncle for years, the two trading him off to one another throughout the year. However, Tobias discovers his birth mother to still be alive, living with blindness and amnesia. His birth father, however, was Elfangor, making him Ax's nephew.

Closer to the end of the series, the group recruits disabled kids into their ranks, promising them that their wounds and illnesses would heal after their first morph- which, for some, was true. Others would still have to deal with with their disabilities- but not for long, as all seventeen disabled kids were slaughtered, as part of a distraction plan.

In the climax of the last book, Rachel murders Tom, only for her to be killed herself moments after, while Jake commits genocide by releasing a large majority of the earth populace of Yeerks into space, killing them instantly.

The result? The war ends! Yay! Happy ending! Not quite! Jake suffers from PTSD, going on to experience flashbacks in the last half of the book. Tobias escapes life as much as he can, retreating to a natural reserve to live out the last of his days. Rachel, well, Rachel dead. Cassie and Marco live... surprisingly decent lives, both going off to do things close to what they wanted to do. Cassie works in a newly established division of the government that helps relocate aliens, while Marco is essentially a movie star.

So yeah, Animorphs definitely wasn't as lighthearted and happy-go-lucky as some may remember- of course, the story did have huge moments were it screamed "WE'RE KIDS, WE ARE GOOFY 90s KIDDOS," such as the book about Oatmeal being used as a weapon, or that time they convinced Visser Three that the only way to remove the smell of skunk was by bathing in grape juice instead of tomato juice.

To remember the series as either one or the other, however, completely defeats the purpose of the books.

Animorphs, in the end, was a story about kids who were forced to grow up faster than they should have, due to the mistakes of those older than them. Kids who wanted to go skating or eat at McDonald's, but instead had to take a weekend to recover from being entrapped and physically tortured. Kids who thought they knew what right and wrong were, but ended up doing everything they said they never would do, just to win. It's a story about kids- what they should be, against what conflict makes them become.

It's also about how adults like to control kids, even if they think they're free. Elfangor started this by giving them the responsibility of ending a war. It continued with the Elimist, a godlike being who would come in throughout the story to make sure the kids did exactly what they were supposed to do, instead of doing what they wanted to do. Visser One, the yeerk who discovered Earth, gave the responsibility of invading it to Visser Three, instead of handling herself due to personal engagements that happened.

What begins as another nineties adventure of five kids of varying backgrounds, ends as a reminder of what happens when adults put too much pressure on children, and the consequences of forced growth. The kids, once gathering at malls to hang, or attending school, become so separated from their reality that escaping humanism seemed like the happiest possible path (tobias), that letting yourself die was better than returning to a war-less land (rachel), making regrettable choices at such a young age resulting in PTSD, constant flashbacks to times of immense danger and death, a complete separation from the present. (jake)

Leaving children to suffer the consequences of a war not belonging to them resulted in more tragedy than necessary. Forcing kids to make grown up decisions before they've even entered high school only gives them depression, anxiety, and dissociation from reality.

Thinking younger generations can handle the repercussions of your actions, thus making it not your problem, brings the end of youth and innocence.

Millennial humor is often looked on as "dark and depressed," and those Millennials, now in the work force, are accused of bringing the end of many businesses and morals held previously by older generations.

Gen Z is viewed as completely nihilist, having even darker humor, with many having a complete separation from the reality they live in. They're viewed as lazy and brainwashed by entertainment media, when in truth, more happiness can be found in books, games, and television than in their own lives, and it is a daily experience for many of them to wake up in a world that is dull and dystopian compared to the wonders of fictional universes.

These generations are expected by previous ones to pick up what they left for them- to prepare meals with the scraps of meat so carelessly dripping out of their mouths and onto the floor. To end wars they've started. To fix the economies they themselves ruined. To be able to open the Burger King the day after a customer is murdered before them.

Responsibilities created by previous generations that are viewed too troublesome to deal with themselves are being pushed onto our generations, with the belief that our generations can take these responsibilities without so much as a grimace. However, just because one thinks others can handle issues, doesn't mean that they should have to. 

Animorphs has an ending. It is not a happy one. It is not an awful one. It is happy for the ones who did not have to endure the war others left for them. If it awful for the ones forced to handle situations pushed on them by adults who thought the problem best be left with the future.

The problem may have been fixed, but an entire generation of people were left to suffer because those in charge refused to handle it themselves, and chose instead to leave it to someone else.

[westcoastprancer]

My Auto-Spaz-Ography

***WARNING - WAY TOO MUCH UNNECESSARY PROFANITY***

Getting past the only child bullshit...sue me I guess? Not my fault my parents could only handle one of me. Pretty annoying growing up hearing from morons that I must be a spoiled little shit...

Can’t really argue there. Aside from self-inflicted hunger (you know...that junior high self image bullshit..starve and lose 5 lbs in a weekend), I’ve never gone hungry. I’ve never been cold, without clothes, or a roof over my head. I was taught values. So yeah, I am fucking spoiled rotten. No apologies there.

People who continuously stay “stuck” royally piss me off. These weirdos are toxic. Avoid them at all costs. They will not change. You will thank me for this piece of advice sometime in your life. Everybody’s got a problem. So do I. Set goals for yourself. Get the fuck off your sad ass every couple weeks. Find your best friend (if you don’t have one of those...you should seriously consider working on finding one) get trashed, talk it out and let that shit go for a while. If you’re stuck in a rut for more than 2-3 months, get help. Seriously. It’s not embarrassing. It’s way more shitty in the long run when you turn out to be the aforementioned person who just stays fucking “stuck”. On another note, subject of the week has been middle aged divorced broads with kids and how sly and bitchy they are. If they go ape shit on me before getting their facts straight, imagine what they do to all these poor men? No fucking wonder a good, non hot dog throwing down hallway status, loyal, no bullshit broad like me can’t find a solid dude. The good dudes are out there getting berated by these broads they knocked up and can’t get out of it now because...you know...the kids and stuff. I’m glad I took a different path. Can’t imagine being in that desperate place looking for affection because I am 37-47 year old wrinkly, loosey goosey broad thinking I was tossed aside by a shitty man, when I am the nutbag...just looking for attention. It’s easy to get laid. No strings. No problems. Many people make it way too complicated. My friend’s brother is hilarious. He is kinda a douche and I love his stories about profiling chicks. My favorite was when he told this broad at the bar she looked beautiful and she said how he made her day! (First red flag) They go to exchange numbers and she once again tells him what a nice time she had meeting him ( nothing wrong with that) but then goes on daily wishing him a good day. That’s another desperate sign. Come to find out...middle aged. Divorced. Kids. Lonely in the panties. You know the drill. I used to host this radio show called Cryin’ Lovin’ Laughin’ or Leavin’ so I learned these things sort of young. You remember the patterns of people. You know warning signs of crazy. Here’s the most invaluable lesson, most people are batshit crazy. Keep the wall up a while. Test people. I have caught so many good people (so I thought) in lies through the years. Even little irrelevant lies. It doesn’t matter if it’s a friend, relative, colleague, or significant other. When you catch someone in a lie of even the smallest, you wonder what else they are capable of lying about. It changes everything. Be like me. Don’t lie. Sometimes it’s hard, but then you have nothing to hide and having the truth on your side keeps you out of some really shitty situations.Even if it is so embarrassing and you have to put a towel over your head to face the truth...do it. If you don’t believe a word of anything else I say...believe me when I tell you about people. The good and the bad. Just take the time to get to know a person. You don’t want a lazy middle aged squinty eyed salmoncake real estate selling Mom moving her and her kids asses into your house all of a sudden. You ain’t that desperate. Oh and dudes, I’m coming for you...don’t act desperate either. Just don’t. I tend to take your sides on this shit because dudes on the other sides of things are usually just happy to be free, so their demeanor is totally different. But that doesn’t mean I won’t flip sides on you if you guys start getting weird. Covid seems to have made everyone crazy.

Even in a good mood, there is nothing better than a super depressing 90’s country song...am I right? It’s that sad shit that always gets me in my damn near non-existent soul. Look, I randomly placed 6th out of 20 on a totally impromptu Roast Battle at the Laugh Factory in LA one night. One of the roastmasters told me I did so well for my first time because I have no soul. HA HA HA...that one fucking stuck with me. Back to the point - if you can’t sit down with a couple good homies now and then and blast “Alibis” on 10 while chugging Crown, you should really address some things in your monotonous life. Just sayin for someone who doesn’t do the bar scene much anymore and barely has feelings...I know every color of every neon sign. I’m always hashin out a heartache in the back of my mind. Makes me remember not to go there ever again. People suck. I feel like I have already mentioned this. I’m not a “hard” person. I’m a realist. I don’t want to miss fantastic opportunities with people, but I also know those people are few and far between so I really keep my guard up. The right people always tear it down in time. 

People who get offended by profanity seriously piss me off more than a hive of wasps chasing me. Let me be clear...if I wasn’t dropping at least 72 f-bombs a day...I’m not sure where I would be in life. It’s turning all negative events in my life into positivity. I mean when you think about the F word. No matter how you slice or dice it...it does have a positive meaning in any context. “Go fuck yourself.” - Ok! “Fuck that!” - With what?! “Fuck You!” - Time and place please? Etc… Do you know what I am fucking saying?

Seriously asked my father the other day why he didn’t own Hilton chains or something. I’m sick of this fucking sweaty ass work too hard lifestyle with hardly any time to do fun shit. The idea of being some stuck up heiress with holes in my pockets sound fucking fantastic to me sometimes. Maybe just not the stuck up part. Could you imagine me that way? Snap my fingers and a drink comes! First class flights to St. Croix with my inner posse.  Living the goddamn dream. Me and my doggies on a private island!

I’ve become a bit dramatic, I think. For an extremely hard headed Portagee, I can still call myself out when needed. It’s kinda weird not living alone anymore. I’ve got a badass homie around now (wish I would have met years ago) who actually gives a shit how my day was. So I kinda get called out now on my bullshit. (Side note: It’s important to keep company around you who doesn’t enable your negative traits. Your best friends will call you on your shit and help you grow.) Sometimes I’ll lay down and pout all day over some shit that is NOTHING. Just get stoned and forget the fuck about it. I’m sure this is something I’ve been doing for years. Never caught it til now. Checklist to work on. No one likes even a small percentage of a drama queen. Yuck.

Amazing the shit I think of while stoned. What’s the point of dating? Attach yourself to another person for life? Is that even natural? Attach yourself to yourself...not American Pie style you pervert. Attach yourself to doggies. I cannot stress enough how fulfilling life is raising pups. Watching them grow and learn. I’m not even talking about the ones you raise from babies. Even at an older age, your dog will still learn and grow with mental stimulation and affection. It’s so amazing to watch the new things they learn and pick up on. If you treat your dogs well, they will treat you double as well until death do you part. Sure, it’s shitty you get so attached and they don’t live very long, but it teaches you perseverance. True value of cherishing your pals and moving on in your life always keeping a piece of them with you. Sounds fucking gut wrenching sad. It is, but I promise you the time you spend with your pups outweighs the sadness in the end.( If you’re planning on spending zero time with your animal, leave your pet in constant confined spaces, starve or beat it...don’t fucking get one. Don’t even get close to one. They are better off in the wild than with your crazy ass. You ain’t right.)

You can’t be a lying dickface all the time and expect everyone to be nice to you. Saw a good one on Family Guy that touched my sweet heart a little. Stewie to Brian: “You’re not my friend. Friends come and go. You’re family. That’s for life.” Sounds so sweet. In fact I wanted to call my bestie and tell him that. Then I snapped out and realized “family” can be a super toxic F word. Sad thing is I have a pretty big “family” on each side, yet the older I get, I have realized my only family is my parents. In fact, I have created my own family full of non-blood relatives. Life is wonderful in the positive environment I have created for myself through the years. It’s amazing to form bonds with amazing people who have no ulterior motives like wills and money. Fucking money brings out the true colors in people. It’s sad. People spend their whole lives trippin balls over money. That must suck. 

Those dorks at Central Catholic. Even at 15 made me laugh like hell. They’d interview the football “stars” getting full rides to Notre Dame and shit. My favorite was when asked about their favorite band... “Creed man. Such great “hard rock” with such powerful, positive messages.” Those dudes are probably miserable in their physical therapists jobs with their cheating whore wives who come home smelling like ratty vaginas. Someone had to fucking say it. Embarrassing confession: “My Sacrifice” is a FANFUCKINGTASTIC song!

I have a hard time with people. I try my best. I always learn and continue to grow. I got that goin for myself. People suck. People are cruel. (3rd time I’ve said this today?)  People take no time to disappoint me for the most part. If you’re kind to me, I will be twice as kind to you. If you’re a fuckface to me, expect me to be an extra double fuck with a cherry on top. Add some nuts too and suck on that shit. I’m a badass person to have in your life and on your team. If you’re lucky enough to make it into my inner circle, I’ll probably be one of the best friend’s you’ve ever made. If you can’t look at yourself in the mirror and see the person that you would like to be friends with, you need to make some changes. It took me a long time to become my own best friend. If you can’t be solid with spending time with yourself, you can’t be solid with anyone and you’ll eventually become a dead weight. Take the time to get to know yourself and work on it...for me it’s constant. I know there is other people with my qualities in the world. If you find one, take the time to learn about them and ease your way into friendship slowly. Actions speak louder than words. Prove yourself to be a good human. Be patient. The best relationship of any type comes with time and work.

Let’s see…

Don’t be a fucking retail investor.

Don’t be a fucking commie.

Don’t be a fucking douchebag. 

Don’t fucking settle.

Don't stop bettering yourself for you and those you care for.

Don’t stop fucking being YOU!

LO

[losille2000]

The Ugly Duckling, Part I

TITLE: The Ugly Duckling CHAPTER NUMBER: 1/3 AUTHOR: Losille2000 WHICH TOM/CHARACTER: Actor!Tom GENRE: Romance/PWP FIC SUMMARY: Sometimes an ugly duckling believes she’ll always be an ugly duckling until someone comes along and shows her otherwise. RATING: M (sex, language) WARNINGS: Um, nothing yet. AUTHORS NOTES: I… don’t know where this came from. But it came from somewhere and it’ll be at least two parts, maybe three. Let’s just say three. Short and sweet. But let’s be honest, I have whole world planned for this, so who knows if there will be more afterward. For the location mentioned in this story, you can watch any one of these videos to get an idea of the peril Astrid faces. The last one is the best, because it has nice, peaceful music.

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=n6wTgncf_rA

https://youtu.be/iZoacDf5p-U

https://youtu.be/xk6firqVC-U

https://youtu.be/S8GX486ym9Q

Part I - The Duckling

 Of all the harebrained ideas Astrid had ever had, hanging onto a cliff by her fingernails two hundred feet over a Hawaiian beach probably classified as the worst. Not that she planned it this way. In fact, the travel brochure she picked up at the tiny eight-gate Kauai airport said this path down to the secluded beach below it was easy enough for even the mildly physically inclined. She didn’t run marathons or anything, but chasing rambunctious kindergartners qualified her as mildly physically inclined. She certainly didn’t spend her time sitting at a desk job or riding a couch in front of the television. Right?

Wrong.

 Now she wished she had a gym membership and some modicum of upper body strength, just to hold herself up by the flimsiest piece of twine masquerading as a hand rail stretched between two shoots of thick bamboo. While her legs kicked wildly on the soft ground, searching for purchase.

 Maybe there was a reason why they called this Hideaways Beach, why they said only a few people ventured to it daily. She’d been lured in with the promise of relative privacy and solitude. She’d been blindsided by everything else.

 What the brochure neglected to mention was the on-and-off Hawaiian rain. And the fact that, after a rain, as it had done most of the night before, the trail became treacherously slippery. And apparently, in Hawaii, volcanic dirt happened to be five million percent slipperier than normal people dirt like she was used to back home in Las Vegas. This, also, wasn’t considering that most of the pre-laid handrails had either rusted away in the salty sea air or had never been placed to begin with on the steep incline. Like some construction crew realized trying to make the path safe wasn’t even worth their time or effort. They knew the haole would be stupid enough to try it out anyway.

 Like her.

 Because she was so haole, it hurt. Not to mention stupid.

 She realized now, with some startling clarity, that she was probably going to plummet to her death, completely alone. Unloved. Young, basic, and likely easily forgotten. At least the view before she met her fate was gorgeous enough. Anyone would be lucky to die staring out at the crystalline waters of Kauai’s north shore.

 But she’d already come too far to give up and, looking back up the steep, uneven stairs leading to the top of the trailhead, she couldn’t summon the energy to try to climb them. Falling, or at least going downhill, seemed like the best option. There was no turning back, even though she still hadn’t figured out how to maneuver her shoe-covered feet into the soft red mud beneath her. Maybe sliding down the muddy incline would be better?

 She groaned as she released her sloth-like hold on the nylon rope, setting her butt on the muddy path. The red goo smooshed into the thin bathing suit cover-up she wore, and it honestly felt like she’d had an accident. But her burning arms finally had a rest. And at least like this, she wasn’t liable to take any cartwheels down the cliff. Maybe she’d just sit there and waste away, or maybe turn into Te Fiti from Moana. Her students loved that movie. She’d promised to bring back photos from her adventures to share with them. They’d be so disappointed that they didn’t get to see where Moana and Lilo and Stitch were from.

 “Um, excuse me,” said a deep, tentative voice above her.

 Astrid startled, but she didn’t jump far, the mud creating a strong suction with her bottom. To add insult to injury, the suction made a disgusting wet fart sound as she settled back into her spot. Now she could die from mortification instead of blunt force trauma. Just great!

 A tall man, thin but muscular, peered down at her through dark Ray Bans. He wore a holey threadbare t-shirt in blue with crinkled board shorts underneath, those a plain black. A brightly colored beach towel decorated in hibiscus was slung over a broad shoulder. The dirty boat shoes on his feet seemed to be doing perfectly well holding him upright on the slippery path, enabling him to peer down his straight patrician nose at her. His face pinched and he looked up toward the sun beating down through the trees while he readjusted his baseball cap.

 “I’m sorry to bother,” he said again. Goodness, his voice was rich, like honey. His English accent made him purr. Maybe he was doing it on purpose, trying to calm the crazy not-really-farting lady sitting on her ass on a hiking trail. “But are you okay?”

 Astrid squinted and looked up at him. He looked like a giant from her position, impossibly tall, like one of the trees surrounding them. “Do I look like I’m okay?” She felt the wetness on her cheek and reached up, wiping away a few anguished tears that seemed to have erupted without her knowledge. She didn’t know if she was crying because she had failed herself, or because she was relieved someone found her.

 “May I help you?” he asked, extending a hand. It was a nice hand, big palm, with thin, elegant fingers. His forearm was nice, too. He probably worked out, hence why he was still standing.

 She was definitely hitting the gym when she got home. If she got home.

 Astrid reached for him, closing her fingers around his forearm, as he did the same to her, for more leverage. With a little hoist, and some more effort, she was finally standing on two shaky legs again. Except now that she had him for support, she didn’t want to let go.

 He was more solid than any of the railings around her. She liked it; he peered down at her with amusement on his lips. Maybe she needed to let go of his arm, but she was too terrified to do so.

 “Are you going down or coming up?” he asked.

 “I have absolutely no idea,” she said with a high-pitched chuckle that came out as exasperation. “I’m technically still going down, but I think maybe I should go back. But then I’m looking back up there, and I don’t think I have it in me right now.”

 His bright laugh made her insides bubble. “How about we tumble down the trail together?”

 “You sure you want to do that?” she asked. “I’m a bit of a walking disaster.”

 He looked down the trail, and back up, then straight at her. At least she imagined he was looking at her. The sunglasses were too dark to see through. “I’m game if you are.”

 “You’re probably going to regret it.”

 “Let me be the judge of that.”

 Astrid couldn’t contain the silly giggle that bubbled up her throat. At least there was some gallantry left in the world. Most men wouldn’t even look at her twice, much less stop to help her… and then offer to escort her down the cliff face with the threat of meeting their own demise. She just wasn’t worth it.

 They moved slowly and quietly, and once they were past the initial incline, it became easier to walk without taking small, measured steps to preserve balance. The incline turned shallow, and the terrain changed from dirt to rocks and leaves. These seemed to be mostly dry, covered as they were with such a dense tree canopy above the trail.

 Finally, they made it to the beach. True to the travel brochure’s word, it was completely empty. Oh, and it was gorgeous. Aided by the difficult path down, she figured not many people had spent time in this pretty little cove, making the water bluer, the sand cleaner, and the reef more vibrant through the clear aquamarine waters. It was a perfect place to spend a day, even after almost hurtling to a sure death.

 She sighed and glanced at the man beside her, who seemed to have frozen in his own awe of the location.  Astrid smiled, looking at his profile. High cheekbones, strong jaw covered in a healthy growth of stubble. Short auburn curls poked out from beneath his hat. He looked youngish, yet older than her. She wanted to see his eyes, to gauge his attractiveness further. Not that it mattered. Because it didn’t. He was just being nice, helping her.

 “So, uh, thank you,” she finally said, making him turn to look at her.

 He grinned. “No problem.”

 What did she say? Should she invite him to sit with her? It was weird being the only two people down here, now strangely bonded through a near-death experience. Well, her near-death experience. She chewed on the inside of her cheek, then drew in a breath. “Yeah, have a good day.”

 And that’s how she left it, giving him a stupid semi-wave of her hand as she scurried through the grainy yellow sand to her right. Away from him, and away from the awkwardness. She hated awkward, but Awkward was her middle name. Always had been, though her mom had refused to let her use it as her Confirmation name when she was taking catechism classes as a child. She went with Joan, as in ‘of Arc’, instead. Thought it’d give her the push to be courageous for once in her life.

 Astrid knew exactly where courageous got her. She’d barely survived the hike down the cliff.

 Astrid took the rucksack from her back and pulled out her own beach towel, laying it carefully on an untouched patch of sand, half under a shade tree, but still with a good splash of sun. Then she tossed off her own sunglasses and wide-brimmed hat before heading to the water.  She waded into the surf, letting the cool ocean tickle her toes. Preferably, she’d have come later in the year for warmer temperatures, but March’s spring break meant she still might be able to see the whales that came in the spring for their calving.

 She carefully inched further into the water, peeling off her cover-up and jumping into a reef-less area of deeper water to wash off the slimy red mud clinging to her body. Fortunately, most of it disappeared in a cloud of rusty water, but her clothing didn’t fare as well. At least she was still alive to tell the tale.

 After bobbing in the slow undulating waves for a few minutes, she trudged back for the shoreline and her blanket, wringing her wet hair as she emerged. Even though it was wet, she could pick out the light golden streaks running through the usually mousy brown, actually making it look something other than drab for a change. If only she could keep it and her nice tan going for the rest of the spring and summer, she’d be happy.

 The tiny hairs on her neck rose, and a frisson of electricity sizzled up her back.  A sure sign someone was watching her, or at least had looked at her. She glanced to her left to make sure no one else was there—she’d been duped before thinking someone was looking at her, but they were really looking past her—and then glanced at the only other person on the beach.

 He stood still at the surf’s edge, his feet buried in the sand, small frothy waves lapping at his ankles. But his eyes were on her, not on what he was doing. Still with the glasses and hat, she couldn’t really make out any intent in his gaze, other than a friendly smile and a nod of his head.

 The thought that he might be checking her out made her laugh again. No one checked her out. Well, maybe not ‘no one,’ but the someones who did were typically only in bars and clubs when she was the only one left out of a group of girls or the men were too drunk to care who they went home with.

 It wasn’t false modesty, either, that had made her laugh… and blush… at the stranger’s attention. She’d always known she wasn’t pretty. Not like her older sister, the beauty queen. Or her cousins, all striking in their own way. Her mother had called her the ugly duckling—she of the unremarkable plumage, plain face, and squat rounded figure. A terrible thing for a mother to say, but that was Mom. Love her or hate her.

 Astrid had waited to turn into a swan for years, like the story she always read to her kindergarten classes, but it still hadn’t happened. And why would it? This wasn’t a fairy tale and that man wasn’t looking at her appreciatively. He was probably just being nice, his eyes finding the only other moving thing on the secluded beach, before moving on.

 She settled down onto her towel, deciding to lay first on her stomach and read a bit from the Kindle she’d brought, since it seemed to have survived her slip earlier. She didn’t get very far before a voice called out to her.

 “Is the book good?” called the Englishman, now closer to her, but still at the surf’s edge. He was looking back in her direction, then bending down to inspect a shell on the sand.

 Astrid frowned. “Excuse me?”

 He motioned to the Kindle sitting on the blanket in front of her. “You came to one of the most beautiful places in the world and you’re reading instead of watching. I sure hope the book is worth it.”

 “You don’t like to read?”

 He barked out a laugh and looked back at the sun. “I love to read, but I find there’s so much to explore in unfamiliar places like this. Unless you live here and this isn’t new to you.”

 Ah, so he was playing the information mining game. “If I lived here, do you think I’d be stupid enough to attempt that hike on my own?”

 “No, I suppose not,” he said. “Then where’s home?”

 “Las Vegas.”

 “I’ve been,” he replied. “Fun city.”

 Sure, if you liked always smelling of stale cigarette smoke, losing money, and ignoring the seedy underbelly of a city built on mobs, human trafficking, and obscene wealth that never trickled past the Strip. Astrid rolled her eyes and dipped her head to read again.

 He didn’t take the clue. “Where are you staying?”

 She groaned and shut her Kindle cover. “At the condos right next to the trailhead.”

 “I’m at the St. Regis down the way,” he offered. “This the first time you tried to come down here?”

 “First time I’ve had the courage to attempt it,” she shot back.

 The man nodded, running his fingers thoughtfully across his mouth. “It’s my third time. I slipped the first time, as well.”

 Astrid rolled her eyes. “You did not.”

 “I did! Arse over kettle,” he said.

 She scoffed. “You’re a lying liar who lies.”

 “Why would it be so difficult to think I fell? That trail should probably be closed due to safety concerns,” he replied, stepping closer to her, dry sand sticking to his bare feet as he walked. Eventually, he stopped in front of her with his hands on his hips, looking down his nose again.

 From her vantage, all she could really see was crotch, so she quickly pulled herself up into a sitting position. She rested back on her hands, with her legs outstretched. “I had my hands on you, I know how strong you are.”

 “Muscles don’t mean strength,” he said.

 Astrid groaned and rolled her eyes again. This man was both incredibly annoying and alluring all at once and she wanted to keep talking with him… until she didn’t. Finally, he seemed to get her reticence and turned on his heels, walking back toward the water, stripping off his glasses, hat and shirt as he went. They landed on the sand in a heap.

 He dove into the blue depths, but the moment before he did it was long enough for Astrid to verify that the man was walking muscle. How long did he have to work out every day just to maintain it? Or was he naturally that lean? It was ridiculous and a little unfair, really.

 When he popped up out of the water, he was facing her direction, the first time she’d been given an opportunity to really see him. And heavens, was he gorgeous. Not just the sculpted-from-marble body, but his face. Maybe not male model pretty, but that’s what made him so attractive to her. He was a man, interesting and maybe a little on the rugged side, not some baby-faced model perfection. The water dripping around him and off of him, however, made it seem like he’d been ripped straight from the romance novel she’d been attempting to read a few minutes ago.

 Maybe he was. Maybe this was all some delusion she’d created as she lay dying on the bottom of the cliff, after actually falling the two hundred feet. She pinched her arm.

 No, not a delusion. He was real, and he was headed for her. Again.

 “So,” he said, dripping onto her towel as he pulled the hat back down on his head and replaced the sunglasses. For what she had been able to see of his sea-green eyes, she found them to be intense and gorgeous. But she knew she’d have to stare into them for a while to know for sure.

 “Yes?” she asked, lifting a brow at him.

 “Would you have dinner with me tonight?”

 She tried not to sound incredulous. But there was no helping it. No one that looked like him had ever asked her out to dinner like this. “Excuse me?”

 He chuckled at her. “Dinner, at the St. Regis. Say seven?”

 Astrid frowned. “I’m sorry, but—”

 “It’s the only polite thing to do after I saved you,” he said.

 “Shouldn’t I be the one inviting you out, then?” she asked.

 He shrugged his shoulder. “Nah. My treat. I’d simply like the pleasure of your company.”

 “What about the people I came with?”

 “The more the merrier,” he said, but he hedged anyway. He wanted her alone, clearly. Which was strange. Everything about this day had been strange. “How many shall I make the reservation for?”

 But he knew. She didn’t know how he knew she was all alone, but he did. Even though she couldn’t see his eyes, as they were once again hidden behind his sunglasses, she felt them on her, assessing her, reading her. He had her number. She only wished she had his.

 “Just the two of us,” she finally replied. “I don’t even know your name.”

 That seemed to change him, to make him do a double take. Almost as though he were surprised by the question. He cleared his throat and said, “Henry Longfellow.”

 “That’s a stupid name,” she said. “And fake.”

 “How do you know?”

 Astrid licked her lips. “Add a Wadsworth in there and you’ve got yourself one of the greatest American poets to ever poet.”

 His shoulders slumped and he harrumphed. “I’m impressed you know that. What’s your name, then?”

 She sighed. She damn well wasn’t going to give him her real name if he wasn’t going to give his. “How ‘bout Jane Austen?”

 “Ha!” He laughed. “No Jane, can’t do Jane. You strike me as more of a Brontë--a little darker and more Gothic around the edges than old Jane.”

 “Charlotte, then,” she said.

 “Not Emily?”

 Astrid shrugged. “I’m more of a Rochester girl than a Heathcliff.”

 He stared at her for good long moment, as though memorizing what she looked like. “Alright, dinner at seven, then, Charlotte.”

 “Do you do this often?” she called to him as he turned and started for his towel.

 “Do what?” he asked.

 “Make edicts and expect people to follow them?”

 He grinned. “Most people do what I say.”

 Astrid couldn’t believe his cockiness. But there was also an infectious friendliness in him that made it difficult to say no to anything. “If I don’t make it tonight, it’s because I’m stuck down here, or dead at the bottom of the cliff from trying to climb back up.”

 He laughed. “I have faith in you, Charlotte.”

 “Thanks,” she said, sarcasm dripping from her voice.

 “Seven! Don’t forget! Or I’ll come bang on every one of the doors of the flats you’re staying at,” he yelled, slipping onto the path and out of sight.

 Astrid groaned and fell back on her towel, staring up at the impossibly blue sky.

 When had her life turned into this, anyway? Damn it, though, if she wasn’t just a little excited. She let out a little squeal and reached for her Kindle, happy to finally have the peace she craved, as well as a weird new happiness bubbling up inside her.

[amunetred]

Black and Blue

A/N: I’m writing my Leorai week in the form of an ongoing short story.  Be sure to read Black & Blue Chapters 1-3 first.  Also, this chapter references events that happened in my one shots, Solace, and Sanctuary.

                                                   Black and blue, I’m begging you

Take me in, I’m surrendering

Black and blue, but if I’m with you

If I’m with you, I will live to fight on through

-Sia, Black & Blue

 Chapter 4

 First Date

Sparks flew as his blade clashed the wall, halted just shy of my cheek as his eyes darted over me.  His lips parted, his eyes growing wide then small again.  He squint, then placed his sword beneath my throat as he stepped closer, inhaling deep.  “You smell of flowers.”  

He zeroed in on my hair, dropped his weapon to place one hand around my throat.  He didn’t squeeze and this meant a great deal to me.  For one I was still alive, he hadn’t killed me.  Two, he wasn’t strangling me.  At least not yet.  His brow furrowed as he reached with his free hand into my shoulder-length hair, grasping a small chunk from the underside.  He pulled it forth, rubbing it between his fingers.  “It’s blue.”

Though his grasp was loose around my throat there was a knot deep within it, great pressure building in my chest.  My eyes stung as a feeble smile worked my lips. “It is.”

He wrinkled his nose as he rubbed the electric blue locks between his fingers, letting them fall among the black.  “I prefer the ebony.”  

He turned his battered shell on me for the first time, leaving both weapons on the ground as he approached the fire.  He sat beside it.  “I kept dreaming of the blue— blue just like that, and this—” he motioned to his mask, bound around his arm. It was splotchy now with something dark.  

He picked up a stick, poked at the fire, stoking the embers. “Well you lived. I am entertained. Sit. Tell me why you’ve come to die by my hand. Entertain me a while longer before I grow bored of you.” His head turned awkwardly on his neck, like a door in a jam that didn’t fit. “Perhaps I’ll let you live until you do.”

“Do what?” I asked, taking a step toward him.

“Bore me.”

If I was going to get him back I had to bring it, like really pour it out to him all the ways I should’ve all along.  At this point I had everything to lose, at the hand of the one I was trying to save.  “I’m not sure what you remember.” I sat across from him, fixing my gaze on him as the flames flickered between us.  “We met as teenagers, saved the world together a half dozen times.  You helped me see the truth, enabled me to have honor, something I always wanted.  Without you I wouldn’t have either.”

He nodded toward the katana, still in the dust. Cast aside, dirty, dishonored.  “You’re boring me.” My Leo would never treat his weapons like that. This provoked my ire.

“Yeah, well it used to be you that bored me.  I was the dark and you were the light.” I picked up a stick, jabbed at the same log he was poking from the other side.  Tiny sparks drifted up, scarlet stars, chasing the smoke.  “Our first date had firelight too. I asked you out, since you couldn’t get through the asking part without choking on your words.”  I snickered and he straightened, frowning as he blocked my stick then poked the stoked fire unnecessarily.  

“I’m not afraid of anything.” He argued.

“I didn’t say you were.”  I scoffed.  “It was after we lost Splinter.  There was this whole weird grieving thing we did together.” I shrugged. “Since we’d already done everything physical and said the “I love you” bits, it didn’t seem like a big deal to ask for a real date.” My gaze drifted into the blue of the flame …

Leo carried an armful of logs to the ring of stones near the cliffs edge. “Are you sure this counts as a first date?” He placed them on the pile, selecting one to add to the fire.  “I mean, are you sure this is okay for a first date? Don’t most people go out to dinner or something?”

He was nervous, though I couldn’t say why. We’d made love weeks ago, spoken it the day before that… we’d skipped the order of things opting for the chaotic way we did everything else.  I was fine with it.  

I gazed at the valley below, clusters of varying shades of green swaying in a steady breeze.  The same air carried cedar-burdened smoke across my ankles. The odor was heavy, thick and clung to my clothes.  But the landscape before me, the sun a melting myriad of oranges and reds, dipping between two peaks across the horizon, remnants of a dusky blue sky fading to purple then black above an endless cascade of emerald and pine, the greatness of it all stirred something inside me, summoned a nameless energy to thrum beneath my skin.  

The hike had been good for us, the trail smudgy in places where the earth was soft from a prior day’s rain.  He’d flip-flopped back and forth between needless chatter and an easy silence.  I preferred the latter, slipping my hand into the curl of his, saffron rays piercing the canopy above, like strips of warmth taking off the slight chill.  I could’ve done without the mosquitoes, and the damned cacophony of locust, tree frog and cicada that made my ears ache.  But the occasional crunch of leaves beneath our feet as we played a game of “who is the better ninja” was particularly gratifying.  

I enjoyed the faint ribbons of gold darting across the top of his head and edge of his carapace as he went ahead, clearing the path. There in the forest, or from the rooftop of a city beneath a night sky, in the shadows of the sewers he hailed from, or outlined in the white glow of a summer sun, sometimes the realness of him thrust itself upon me.  The golden swirls adorning his shell, the chips and scratches, battle scars that he shouldn’t have.  Then there was his inhuman profile, the wrinkles around his eyes and the edges of his mouth, that shouldn’t be there, for he was too young to bear them.  But he was too young, we were too young for much of what we’d lived through.  And through it all he was still beautiful, eyes pools of blue that I allowed myself to get lost in, knew full well that to love him was a dangerous undertaking, yet in the thrill and tragedy that was my life I indulged in him.  I wasn’t the least bit sorry.

With a final swipe of his sword he knocked back the brush and we were there, a large flat cliff that promised a breathtaking view and did not disappoint. As we stepped to the edge together I squeezed his hand.  “I think this counts.”

The sun dissolved behind the mountains leaving us by firelight, along with the small flickering jar of fireflies beside my bedroll.

Leo sat behind me, wrapping me in his arms.  “Are you going to let them go?” He nuzzled my neck and I leaned into him more, hiding my smile behind the curtain of my hair.  His breath tickled my ear. “There are real stars above us.”

My heart fluttered, like the wings of the tiny glowing creatures desperate to break free of their cage.  I glanced from them to the sky above, losing a breath at the stars upon stars, some minute specks like a cluster of freckles, others larger and many overlapping. It was a moonless night and I was glad for it. The sky was clear, deep blue merging with black, endless as the sea.

He pointed to the northern most cluster.  “That is the black tortoise, warrior.  He guards the North.”

“The black warrior.” I hummed.

His lips brushed my neck, sending little thrills throughout me. “You know the story.”

My cheeks ached from my smile.  “It’s been a while, remind me.”

He leaned back a bit, leaving my neck cold. “Xuanwu was the prince of a Chinese ruler.  However, rather than take the throne, he left his parents when he was sixteen to study Taoism.  While he was studying he was told that he had to purge all human flesh from his body. Since he had always eaten human food his stomach and intestines remained human. He prayed to the gods for guidance, and a sentient being appeared to him, changing Xuanwu’s organs into divine ones.  Once removed his original stomach and intestines were thrown to the mountains, and said to become a tortoise and a snake.  The two became demons, terrorizing people.  Now that he was divine, Xuanwu heard of this and returned to slay the beasts he’d unleashed.  However the snake and tortoise showed remorse, so he forgave them, taking them in and training them to atone for their mischief.  He appointed them the Tortoise and Snake generals, and they assisted him throughout his many quests. Eventually, he achieved divine status and was worshiped as a deity of the northern sky.”

I tilted my head to the side, teasing him with a coy smile as I peered into his magnificent sapphire eyes. “What became of the Tortoise and Snake generals?”

He gathered me closer, his arms strong yet gentle, and I relished the way we’d settled into one another as if we’d been together for years.  “I believe that along the way they found one could not be without the other, and when Xuanwu ascended they joined him, his eternal guardians in the sky.” He pointed to a cluster of stars, but there were so many I wasn’t sure what he was trying to show me. “See there, the snake is wrapped around the tortoise because they are one.”

I searched the cluster of stars, trying to determine some arrangement that resembled a tortoise and a snake.  Why couldn’t they each be different colors, to make it simple?  My toes curled as I leaned forward, his arms loosening as I searched the sky.  “I can’t see it.”

He was patient as his large fingers cupped around my tiny hand, guiding it like a pointer.  Star by star my heart began to pound.  

A tortoise…and there woven around its body, a snake.

Then his voice, those words.

“We were written in the stars, Karai.”

[cutiesaeran]

Much to my extreme annoyance and frustration, my computer randomly shut down in the middle of my last hc and took ALL PROOF OF IT’S EXISTENCE WITH IT. So I’ll start it over.

It was submitted by @ferardislove-ferardislife and the general gist of the request was that MC is a slytherin and completely obsessed with our favorite wizard hero, Harry Potter. How does the RFA+2 respond to this? As well as a query for my own headcanons on Hogwarts houses.

I’m going to do houses first, just to get that out of the way. If anyone disagrees, I’d be interested to hear why - I love these kinds of things.

Yoosung - Hufflepuff

I genuinely believe this boy is Hufflepuff embodied, barring a short stint of wandering off his path - something anyone can do. He’s loyal, he’s hard-working, he’s dependable. He’s patient, friendly and honest. He’s just a Hufflepuff, through and through, and I love him for it.

Zen - Gryffindor

Um. All it takes is reading through the list of traits Gryffindors value to know it’s where he belongs. Daring, chivalrous, brave often to the point of recklessness? Yeah, sounds about right. And the negatives pointed out by members of other houses, like being short-tempered, self-righteous and arrogant? Zen, baby, I love you but that is definitely you.

Jaehee - Ravenclaw or Hufflepuff

I’m torn here. Again, I read through both house lists and I can see her as either. She’s got the wisdom, wit and intellect valued in Ravenclaw - but the hard work, dedication, honesty and impartiality you’ll find in Hufflepuff. I’m tempted to put her in Ravenclaw since no one else on this list is, but my gut is screaming at me that despite her obvious intelligence, she belongs in Hufflepuff.

Jumin - Slytherin

There’s no contest here. It’s not even a question. Ambitious, shrewd, cunning? He’s definitely a strong leader and is resourceful even without his money. The man is a Slytherin through and through.

707 - Slytherin

Again, I settled on this almost immediately. Don’t let his meme-lord side fool you; it’s a very well-built facade covering up just now cunning, clever and resourceful he is. Also - “a certain disregard for the rules.” Yep. That’s our boy.

V - Hufflepuff

I can’t imagine him anywhere else. He is loyal to a fault, and his patience... man, I’m jealous of it. Ever notice that he always skirts around the truth but doesn’t actually lie? I think the only major lie I can remember off the top of my head is Rika’s death - and, well, you can’t beat around the bush with that. He’s definitely a Hufflepuff.

Saeran - Gryffindor

My first thought was Slytherin and then I realized that no, that’s not actually him at all. The persona we’re originally presented with is an act, born from abuse, drugs and desperation. When I consider the Saeran we meet more in the secret endings and the one we see as a child, he would be separated from his twin at Hogwarts, too. He’s a Gryffindor. Maybe too much so.

Yoosung

He’d be lying if he said he wasn’t jealous. He’s always had an interest in you, ever since the first day Seven introduced you two. He’d secretly hoped that one day you’d return his affection, but... it appears your interest lies elsewhere.

And of course, who wouldn’t have a thing for Harry Potter?

He is famous, after all. And nice.

Yoosung thinks he’s a really nice guy, actually, from the few interactions they’ve had in shared classes.

But... the level of obsession you have sometimes makes him a little uncomfortable. He understands having a crush - lord knows he does - but maybe you take it a bit too far?

It’s nice to see someone in Slytherin standing up to Draco about him, but aren’t you taking an unnecessary risk at times?

Ultimately he’ll keep his jealousy under wraps and is even willing to try to be a wingman if you need... even though he doesn’t think he’ll be of much help.

Zen

Why on earth would you want Harry Potter when there’s someone like him in front of you?

Yeah, Harry saved the world and all of that, but have you seen Zen? He’s, like, at least a million times cuter.

Plus, you two are already friends so that makes it that much easier?

It rankles him when you ask him to introduce you two. Sure, he’s in the same house as the git but it’s not exactly as though he’s made it his goal to be best buddies with him or anything.

After all, he really wants you to notice him and the fact that you look right through him to Harry... well, it hurts and makes him want nothing to do with him.

As time goes on and Harry does more and more amazing things, his jealous grows with your obsession. He’s doing a lot of wonderful things too but you don’t notice.

If he wasn’t so intent on being a gentleman, he’d probably end up doing something stupid like punching Harry just on principle, but those days are behind him.

Eventually he gives in and introduces you two, because he is your friend and he does want you to be happy... even if it’s not with him.

Jaehee

She thinks it’s interesting that you talk about Harry almost like she talks about Zen. Except, well, Zen is part of the musical theatre and is so immensely talented, while Harry is just... Harry.

She can’t deny the fact that he’s a great guy and all and that everyone is obviously in his debt, but it was something he did as a baby? And everything since Hogwarts, well, it just seems like dumb luck to her. Zen at least worked to get where he is.

When she realizes that she has feelings for you, jealousy also enters the picture. But she’ll never do anything to hinder you if he is who you truly want.

She does try to speak up when she thinks you’re taking it a tad too far but you just snap at her, claiming she just wants him for herself (so not true) and so she drops it, blinking back tears.

No matter what you choose, she’ll be there to back you, but... she’s not happy about it.

Jumin

He doesn’t really care. Not about Harry nor your obsession with him.

He’s just focused on his studies and his future. He’s annoyed about all the mayhem that befalls the school constantly and maybe low-key blames Harry for it all.

Sure, he had an interest in you at first but when you made it very clear where your sights were set, he just shrugged and moved on. Yes, he’s rich and from a pure-blood line, but he has nothing quite as accomplished as defeating the Dark Lord under his belt.

He finds it really annoying when you and Draco get into spats and will generally force you two apart.

If anyone can shut the blond up, it’s him. His father is just as influential, if not more, than Lucius Malfoy so it’s of no concern to him what threats are aimed his way.

Eventually he just tiredly asks you to go ask Harry out or something already, because he’s tired of hearing about it.

707

He’s frustrated. He wants your attention and no matter what he does, he can’t draw you off of Harry.

It’s not that he thinks he deserves you or anything, but... he just can’t help the fact that he’s so damn greedy when it comes to you.

In a shocking twist of events, he’s really good friends with Fred and George. They like to cause all sorts of mischievous trouble around the school and the professors will groan if they see all three redheads in the same class.

This means it’s not really a stretch to reach out and befriend Harry, and he does his best to talk you up to him.

Even though he wants you to himself, he will sacrifice that to make you happy.

Plus, any girl who gets remotely close to Harry - save Hermione - ends up with some sort of unfortunate prank played on them that can never be traced back to him.

V

Well, he is the king of enabling, so that’s exactly what he does.

He listens to you when you rave on and on about how awesome Harry is and uses his connections to allow you two to meet up.

Even though he has feelings for you, he pushes them to the side and nudges you any direction he thinks will help you with your pursuit.

He’ll gently correct you if you make any plans that seem a little too weird or stalker-ish, but if you push back he’ll back down.

He’s the epitome of support, for better or worse.

Saeran

He’s noping the heck out of this.

He’s liked you for a long time but once you set your sights on Harry, his fellow house-mate, he just threw his hands up in the air and walked away.

When you ask for him to help set you up, he refuses. He has no interest in playing these kinds of games.

Honestly, he sort of gets along with Harry and considers him a kind-of friend and has no desire to ruin that for your weird obsession.

And maybe he low-key looks up to him because he’s everything he wishes he were.

He ends up distancing himself from you just because of how creepy he considers it and how much you push him to help you.

He feels like if you actually cared about him, you wouldn’t ask him to do that.

It hurts, but eventually he cuts you off completely.

[footballleague0]

Andrew Sendejo: Watching Like a Hawk

Andrew Sendejo’s locker at Winter Park is guarded by a large hawk statue.

The Vikings safety enjoyed the Christmas gift he received last year from former teammate Audie Cole so much that the former Rice Owl left it facing out a few feet from his locker.

“He watches over everything,” Sendejo says with a laugh. “Sometimes we’ll put different outfits on him and dress him up. Sometimes he’s just there. Nobody really knows what he does when we leave.”

The hawk has stood watch for 11 months but remained somewhat of a mystery until Sendejo recently explained its origin and role in the locker room.

Teammates often make jokes about names of the hawk, adding levity to the few quick breaks between meetings, workouts, practices and recovery sessions.

After quickly downing a cup of high-protein chocolate milk — “one of the best natural recovery drinks you can get” — Sendejo explains there are names like Ethan (a nod to the actor) and Tony (in homage to the skateboarder), as well as Stephen Hawking (in reference to the physicist).

The personal favorite of this writer is Ed “Hawkuli” because of the tie-in with NFL referee (and attorney) Ed Hochuli, whose buff arms are on par with the “sun’s-out” readiness of Sendejo’s.

A poster of Terence Newman running out of the tunnel is propped up against the back of Sendejo’s locker, mostly hidden by shirts on hangers.

There are a couple of Hot Wheels cars that defensive backs coach Jerry Gray began distributing to Vikings DBs in 2015 for jobs well done.

Sendejo has locker nameplates of former teammates Jamarca Sanford and Mistral Raymond, who remain in a group text with Sendejo and Harrison Smith. 

One more name is prominently plastered in Sendejo’s locker, that of former quarterback Shaun Hill, whose second stint in Minnesota included the past two seasons. Hill signed different versions of his autograph, approximating how his signature changed over time, on a large collage of headshots from different seasons.

The artifact collection has clearly grown over the years, as has Sendejo’s hair, beard, role on the defense and level of confidence.

The items are mementos of a journey that began professionally in 2010 with former Vikings Head Coach Dennis Green’s Sacramento Mountain Lions and the Dallas Cowboys as an undrafted free agent. Sendejo bounced from Dallas to the New York Jets before being signed by Minnesota late in 2011.

Sendejo was a special teams ace in 2012, ’13 and ’14, swooping his way through opponents’ return teams and totaling 37 special teams tackles in 45 games. He started 10 games in 2013, cracking the opening lineup for the first time when the Vikings played the Steelers in London.

He returned to a reserve role to start the 2014 season, the first under Vikings Head Coach Mike Zimmer, but stepped in for Smith in Week 14. Sendejo forced a fumble by Chris Ivory near the goal line.

Sendejo started the final three games that season and all games he’s played since, recording 188 tackles (coaches’ tally), three interceptions and 11 passes defended.

The tackles include an important stop in Week 1 of this season when he denied Saints receiver Ted Ginn, Jr., from the end zone during a jet sweep from the Minnesota 9-yard line. The drive stalled, and New Orleans had to settle for a field goal.

Gray, who arrived in 2014 as a member of Mike Zimmer’s staff, said confidence is where Sendejo’s game has grown the most.

“I knew he was tough,” Gray said. “I knew he was smart when we watched him on special teams, but then we got a chance to play defense … you’ve seen his confidence grow, ‘Hey, look, I’m a starter, and I deserve to be here, and I’m going to keep proving myself that I deserve to be here.’ ”

Gray, a first-round pick in 1985 who made four Pro Bowls with the Rams and also played for the Oilers and Buccaneers, said he’s learned every new player to the NFL starts with a blank sheet of paper.

“When you come in this league, you can be drafted in the first round, but your résumé looks just like a free agent,” Gray said. “There’s nothing here. It’s up to you to build where you’re going to go.

“Basically what he’s shown me is that he’s willing to work and persevere to be one of the guys. He took the hard route,” Gray added. “He didn’t get drafted, he had to work on special teams, [on different teams], and all of a sudden he’s here in Minnesota. I think he’s maybe been here five or six years, and you see a guy that his path just keeps getting better and better and better, and that means that he’s working. He’s never thinking that, ‘I’m just good enough.’ He’s always working to get better.”

Sendejo has earned the trust of teammates and coaches but considers it an ongoing process.

In-season off days that once included some dabbling with the guitar or piano — he taught himself to play both by ear — have turned the page to early prep work for the next opponent.

“If you have any downtime, you’ve usually got to take advantage of it to look over stuff and kind of get ready for the next week, Sendejo said. “If you go into the week already ahead of schedule, you know the things you need to look at, you’re just one step ahead.

“It kind of takes a couple of times looking at things before it’s engrained,” Sendejo continued. “You don’t want to walk in here on Wednesday and see something for the first time. You want to have already watched it on Monday or Tuesday, and that way, when you get here Wednesday when we go through our meetings, it’s kind of like you already have it in there, ‘Oh yeah, I saw that when I watched that game.’ ”

The deep dive helps Sendejo and Smith, who enable Vikings coaches to play either near the line of scrimmage or deep.

“It gives you an opportunity to make certain plays in the run and in the pass when you get to do both,” Sendejo said. “I like the things I get to do.”

Gray said having safeties that can work interchangeably helps the Vikings secondary and overall defense.

“When you have a guy that can play in the box and deep, you have a double threat, because now they just can’t say, ‘Well, this guy’s always a box guy,’ [or] ‘He’s always back, if we catch the wrong guy, we can do this.’ To me, when you have guys like Harrison and Sendejo that can do both – they’re athletic, they’re physical in the run game and athletic enough in the passing game, that’s the best of both worlds.”

Although there is usually a weeklong gap between football opponents, the Vikings rely on cohesion and communication within the group that has enjoyed continuity.

Sendejo and teammates use hawk-like focus during film study, looking for details that will become indicators for what a team is likely to try with a certain personnel grouping or formation.

“[Individual players] can’t watch everything,” Sendejo said. “I know every guy is studying, and we’ll go to each other, ‘Hey, did you see that play against this team when they ran that route?’ You kind of get to bounce things off each other.

“If there’s a play I haven’t seen, someone will say, ‘How would you play that?’ We’ll do that a lot, too,” he added. “Everyone tries to watch as much as they can and kind of collab, it makes it where you can watch all of the things you needed to see throughout the week to get ready for Sunday.”

The post Andrew Sendejo: Watching Like a Hawk appeared first on Daily Star Sports.

from http://ift.tt/2hkUL0a from http://ift.tt/2xy1vhb

[giantsfootball0]

Andrew Sendejo: Watching Like a Hawk

Andrew Sendejo’s locker at Winter Park is guarded by a large hawk statue.

The Vikings safety enjoyed the Christmas gift he received last year from former teammate Audie Cole so much that the former Rice Owl left it facing out a few feet from his locker.

“He watches over everything,” Sendejo says with a laugh. “Sometimes we’ll put different outfits on him and dress him up. Sometimes he’s just there. Nobody really knows what he does when we leave.”

The hawk has stood watch for 11 months but remained somewhat of a mystery until Sendejo recently explained its origin and role in the locker room.

Teammates often make jokes about names of the hawk, adding levity to the few quick breaks between meetings, workouts, practices and recovery sessions.

After quickly downing a cup of high-protein chocolate milk — “one of the best natural recovery drinks you can get” — Sendejo explains there are names like Ethan (a nod to the actor) and Tony (in homage to the skateboarder), as well as Stephen Hawking (in reference to the physicist).

The personal favorite of this writer is Ed “Hawkuli” because of the tie-in with NFL referee (and attorney) Ed Hochuli, whose buff arms are on par with the “sun’s-out” readiness of Sendejo’s.

A poster of Terence Newman running out of the tunnel is propped up against the back of Sendejo’s locker, mostly hidden by shirts on hangers.

There are a couple of Hot Wheels cars that defensive backs coach Jerry Gray began distributing to Vikings DBs in 2015 for jobs well done.

Sendejo has locker nameplates of former teammates Jamarca Sanford and Mistral Raymond, who remain in a group text with Sendejo and Harrison Smith. 

One more name is prominently plastered in Sendejo’s locker, that of former quarterback Shaun Hill, whose second stint in Minnesota included the past two seasons. Hill signed different versions of his autograph, approximating how his signature changed over time, on a large collage of headshots from different seasons.

The artifact collection has clearly grown over the years, as has Sendejo’s hair, beard, role on the defense and level of confidence.

The items are mementos of a journey that began professionally in 2010 with former Vikings Head Coach Dennis Green’s Sacramento Mountain Lions and the Dallas Cowboys as an undrafted free agent. Sendejo bounced from Dallas to the New York Jets before being signed by Minnesota late in 2011.

Sendejo was a special teams ace in 2012, ’13 and ’14, swooping his way through opponents’ return teams and totaling 37 special teams tackles in 45 games. He started 10 games in 2013, cracking the opening lineup for the first time when the Vikings played the Steelers in London.

He returned to a reserve role to start the 2014 season, the first under Vikings Head Coach Mike Zimmer, but stepped in for Smith in Week 14. Sendejo forced a fumble by Chris Ivory near the goal line.

Sendejo started the final three games that season and all games he’s played since, recording 188 tackles (coaches’ tally), three interceptions and 11 passes defended.

The tackles include an important stop in Week 1 of this season when he denied Saints receiver Ted Ginn, Jr., from the end zone during a jet sweep from the Minnesota 9-yard line. The drive stalled, and New Orleans had to settle for a field goal.

Gray, who arrived in 2014 as a member of Mike Zimmer’s staff, said confidence is where Sendejo’s game has grown the most.

“I knew he was tough,” Gray said. “I knew he was smart when we watched him on special teams, but then we got a chance to play defense … you’ve seen his confidence grow, ‘Hey, look, I’m a starter, and I deserve to be here, and I’m going to keep proving myself that I deserve to be here.’ ”

Gray, a first-round pick in 1985 who made four Pro Bowls with the Rams and also played for the Oilers and Buccaneers, said he’s learned every new player to the NFL starts with a blank sheet of paper.

“When you come in this league, you can be drafted in the first round, but your résumé looks just like a free agent,” Gray said. “There’s nothing here. It’s up to you to build where you’re going to go.

“Basically what he’s shown me is that he’s willing to work and persevere to be one of the guys. He took the hard route,” Gray added. “He didn’t get drafted, he had to work on special teams, [on different teams], and all of a sudden he’s here in Minnesota. I think he’s maybe been here five or six years, and you see a guy that his path just keeps getting better and better and better, and that means that he’s working. He’s never thinking that, ‘I’m just good enough.’ He’s always working to get better.”

Sendejo has earned the trust of teammates and coaches but considers it an ongoing process.

In-season off days that once included some dabbling with the guitar or piano — he taught himself to play both by ear — have turned the page to early prep work for the next opponent.

“If you have any downtime, you’ve usually got to take advantage of it to look over stuff and kind of get ready for the next week, Sendejo said. “If you go into the week already ahead of schedule, you know the things you need to look at, you’re just one step ahead.

“It kind of takes a couple of times looking at things before it’s engrained,” Sendejo continued. “You don’t want to walk in here on Wednesday and see something for the first time. You want to have already watched it on Monday or Tuesday, and that way, when you get here Wednesday when we go through our meetings, it’s kind of like you already have it in there, ‘Oh yeah, I saw that when I watched that game.’ ”

The deep dive helps Sendejo and Smith, who enable Vikings coaches to play either near the line of scrimmage or deep.

“It gives you an opportunity to make certain plays in the run and in the pass when you get to do both,” Sendejo said. “I like the things I get to do.”

Gray said having safeties that can work interchangeably helps the Vikings secondary and overall defense.

“When you have a guy that can play in the box and deep, you have a double threat, because now they just can’t say, ‘Well, this guy’s always a box guy,’ [or] ‘He’s always back, if we catch the wrong guy, we can do this.’ To me, when you have guys like Harrison and Sendejo that can do both – they’re athletic, they’re physical in the run game and athletic enough in the passing game, that’s the best of both worlds.”

Although there is usually a weeklong gap between football opponents, the Vikings rely on cohesion and communication within the group that has enjoyed continuity.

Sendejo and teammates use hawk-like focus during film study, looking for details that will become indicators for what a team is likely to try with a certain personnel grouping or formation.

“[Individual players] can’t watch everything,” Sendejo said. “I know every guy is studying, and we’ll go to each other, ‘Hey, did you see that play against this team when they ran that route?’ You kind of get to bounce things off each other.

“If there’s a play I haven’t seen, someone will say, ‘How would you play that?’ We’ll do that a lot, too,” he added. “Everyone tries to watch as much as they can and kind of collab, it makes it where you can watch all of the things you needed to see throughout the week to get ready for Sunday.”

The post Andrew Sendejo: Watching Like a Hawk appeared first on Daily Star Sports.

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