#my regular brain to watch. the crisis.

[wellnesscard]

im actually a very embarrassing human being a lot of the time and have no clue how to be normal but its whatever and i dont believe in that shit (normal?? hilarious!) anyways. doesnt fit in my philosophy. just like i have a bachelors degree in psychology and the biggest thing i understood from that degree was that we - human persons! - are the one and only creators of these boxes (diagnoses). there is no such thing as anything because it is all understood in terms we have coined in order to describe similarly recurring phenomena -- Well! what else is language! BUT it gets super zany and excitable, when wordcrafting is applied to psychology(or more-so behavior and self analysis) - at that point you can twist and distract yourself beyond truth. i dont know what im saying imstill gettiing used to this distrubution of keys upon the chromebook (junked donated old secondhanded mamadaddy laptop thank you so fucking much to be a donation bin to a family with extra provisions

[foundmywei]

Buddie Fanfic Recs 3

Here are my favorite buddie fics, I will be updating this as I read~

Check Part 1 and Part 2 for more

(last updated: 13/08/24 - 23 fics)

10k words or under

still by brewrosemilk

(9,368 words | Teen And Up Audiences | Chapters: 1/1)

For the first time, Buck longs for a bullet wound to treat. Dirt to dig at. A door to break through. Something. There’s nothing. “Your guess was correct, Diaz,” the bomb technician tells them, as he gestures to the orange circle. “You’re standing on a large sensor plate, wired to a detonator. It’s incredibly important that you don’t move. Don’t shift. When you put your weight down, it was like cocking a gun - you take your weight off, this thing is powerful enough to take the entire house with it." Inspired by Castle, S05E22: Still

If You Said I Do I Would Too by giselleslash

(5,894 words | General Audiences | Chapters: 1/1)

Eddie starts telling people Buck’s his husband to get out of annoying flirting situations on calls. Buck starts to like it a little too much.

platonic co-parents don’t kiss like we do by thelikesofus

(7,113 words | Mature | Chapters: 1/1)

Chimney wants it on public record that if he ever goes to therapy the bill is to be sent to Buck and Eddie, and that should he ever end up in an early grave for reasons related to his co-workers and their absolutely unhinged inability to act like normal people they will also be paying for all of the flowers at the funeral—and Chimney wants a lot of flowers. OR 5 times other people see Buck and Eddie kiss + 1 time they really mean it.

baby, say you'll always keep me by hattalove

(8,251 words | Teen And Up Audiences | Chapters: 1/1)

“Yeah,” Eddie says, and the darkness behind his eyelids takes on a white edge. “Be good. Nice to be married,” he yanks on Buck’s t-shirt, “best friend.” Finally, Buck takes a breath that sounds off somehow, but he laughs too, and that sounds normal, Eddie thinks. A normal laugh. “Sure, Eds,” he says, and there’s his hand in Eddie’s hair again, a puff of breath on the crown of Eddie’s head like Buck leaned in to press a kiss there and then stopped, but why would he stop—“I’ll marry you if you remind me tomorrow.” or the one in which joking about being married to your best friend is all fun and games, right up until you realize that you're not laughing.

the book of love by colonoscopys

(8,075 words | General Audiences | Chapters: 1/1)

It was a pretty regular day. He had an eight hour shift the day before, slept in a little bit, ate dry toast and drank a black coffee before dropping Chris off at physical therapy for an hour. If he had known he was gonna die, he would have sprung for the hashbrowns in the freezer.

I'll Take "Sounds I Wish I'd Never Heard" For $500, Alex by Kwills91

(5,582 words | Teen And Up Audiences | Chapters: 1/1)

Buck and Eddie get together through grindr...but not the way you'd think OR Buck hears the Grindr notification sound on Eddie's phone - several times - and inevitably has a crisis about it.

I can see it in your eyes (do you mean it?) by smilingbuckley

11k-40k words

(29,353 words | Explicit | Chapters: 6/6)

Eddie hears that his cousin is getting engaged. Not wanting to get set up by multiple family members on awkward dates so he can bring someone to the wedding, he and Buck plan to fake date. They put a lot of thought into it, getting comfortable with PDA, going on fake dates, even practicing kissing once... and then it's finally time to travel to El Paso. But faking it is hard when he's not really faking it at all. -- He fully blames his rom-com brain, having just watched The Proposal – the fake dating classic, if you ask him or Chimney. “What if I’m your fake date?” Eddie’s head snaps sideways so fast, Buck worries about whiplash. “What?” Buck shrugs, trying to play it cool, but really, his heart is beating loudly in his chest. “I mean, people sometimes already think we’re a couple. We’re very comfortable around each other, so sharing a bed or holding hands wouldn’t be too bad. That way your family could back off. And, I don’t know, maybe a few weeks after, you say we decided to just be friends and leave it at that. Or you don’t and they’ll back off full-time with the dates.” Eddie stares at him, “You’d do that for me?” “Sure,” Buck answers, like it’s no big deal.

you could call me babe for christmas ('tis the damn season) by prettyboybuckley

(30,268 words | Teen And Up Audiences | Chapters: 2/2)

"You could come with me," Buck blurts out, his own eyes going wide as he processes what he just said. Eddie looks at him with his mouth hanging open, eyebrows slowly creasing into a frown and Buck's mind grapples for an explanation, even if the reason he said it is quite simple: he always feels safer with Eddie by his side. "My parents want me to come to El Paso," Eddie says, and he looks like the words taste bitter in his mouth. "I'd love to get out of that, but I can't just leave Christopher with Abuela or Pepa while I run to Pennsylvania. Never mind that my parents would never accept it without a good reason." "Christopher can come, of course." OR: Buck and Eddie pretend to be dating as Buck takes the Diaz boys along to Hershey. Once there, things get a little out of hand, and Buck comes to a realization...

Ready-made Family by Dark_Rosaleen

(15,884 words | Teen And Up Audiences | Chapters: 6/6)

“Sure, I love the zoo.” Chris is saying with that perfectly adorable giggle that makes Eddie want to melt whenever he hears it—which is far too infrequently these days. “My dad takes me there all the time.” Eddie’s head snaps up at that, quick and sharp. His fingers go numb and he scrambles uselessly with the tongs as they fall with a loud clatter against the grill. Because Eddie can count the times he’s been to the zoo on one hand. It’s Buck who’s been taking Christopher there nearly once a week for years.

change the prophecy by Daisies_and_Briars

(30,150 words | Mature | Chapters: 12/12)

Buck has never felt secure in any of his relationships; he’s been searching for someone to see him the way he feels he’s meant to be seen, but after things start going downhill with Tommy, he thinks that person might just not exist. Eddie cannot figure out what’s wrong with him when it becomes clear things with Marisol aren’t going to work out. But what if they’re both forgetting something?

made your mark on me (a golden tattoo) by thatbuddie (talktothesky)

(15,010 words | Teen And Up Audiences | Chapters: 1/1)

“I want another tattoo.” Eddie shatters the silence delicately, careful not to disturb the peace that cocoons them. Pressing his hand further on Eddie’s shoulder, because he knows Eddie like no one has ever known him before, like no one will ever know him again, Buck asks, “Here?” Eddie nods, tightening his fingers around Buck’s forearm. “It’s kind of…” Eddie pauses to find the perfect words, until he realizes he doesn’t need them. “It’s kind of for you. And for me. For us. You could… I’d like you to get it too.” The corners of Buck’s lips curl in a soft smile as his fingers curl around Eddie’s shoulder. “I’d like to get it too.” (or, Buck and Eddie keep getting matching tattoos, and then discover that maybe everyone is right when they think it means something more.)

authentication by v_greyson (greyson)

(18,028 words | Explicit | Chapters: 1/1)

"I think we should go clubbing again," Buck announces in between Forza races. "We have a Friday in the middle of our 96, it would be perfect." "You guys planning something?" Hen asks, coming over from the kitchen with a bowl of trail mix. "I'm trying to get Eddie to come pick up guys with me," Buck says. Hen's eyebrows arch high above her glasses. "Really," Hen says. "It's more of a wingman situation," Eddie tries to explain. "Yeah, Eddie picks the guys so I don't make stupid decisions," Buck says, flicking through menus to pick a new racetrack. The combination of Hen munching peanuts and looking back and forth between them makes Eddie feel like he's a zoo exhibit. Best Friends, captured in the wild, still feral, exhibiting behaviors heretofore unknown to science. "Well, good luck with - all that," Hen says pointedly to Eddie. She is definitely not talking about the video game.

keeping score by arcanaphora

(23,202 words | Mature | Chapters: 1/1)

“Bless your heart, you really are new to this. Good for y’all, though. I’m glad this ship is… accepting.” Eddie straightens in his seat. “What does that mean?” All four wince as a young man taps the microphone onstage. “Testing, testing,” he jokes. “Welcome to the Cruisin’ Couples Trivia Tournament!” The patrons around them cheer. Eddie digs his nails into Buck’s skin harsh enough to make him wince. “Oh,” he breathes. “This is for couples.” or: After getting dumped, Buck is left with two tickets to a weeklong cruise. Eddie steps in to support a friend in need, but complications arise when his friend becomes his fake husband. All's fair in love, war, and trivia. OR or: The Cruise Fic

love letters to evan buckley by allwedontdo

(16,872 words | Teen And Up Audiences | Chapters: 4/4)

“I want to ask Buck to marry me.” Christopher stares at Eddie, eyes so vibrantly blue in a way that reminds him of all the times that strangers would assume Buck was his father. Sometimes, he'd stand behind them in the grocery store and imagine Christopher was Buck's. That Buck was always theirs. All Christopher says that breaks Eddie out of his mind is, "Okay?” or Eddie has a question for the most important people in Buck’s life.

we found love right where we were by Polish_Amber

40k+ words

(70,004 words | Teen And Up Audiences | Chapters: 7/7)

May realised a very long time ago that Buck was basically her stepbrother. So, when the lightning strike finally provided the impetus for Bobby to admit that he also brought a kid into their family, she had every intention of seizing the opportunity to properly integrate Buck into the Grant-Nash family. And, look, if in the process she also gains a brother-in-law… clearly the universe was just waiting for the opportunity to make that happen. - Or, the one where May ensures Buck is enfolded properly into the Grant-Nash clan, which means Bobby (and by extension the firefam, because gossip) suddenly gets significantly more insight into the inner workings of the Buckley-Diaz family, and all roads lead to Buddie…

Anywhere I Want, Just Not Home by Daisies_and_Briars

(54,856 words | Teen And Up Audiences | Series - 3 parts)

Part 1: When a work conflict prevents Athena from accompanying Bobby to Minnesota for the ten year anniversary of his family dying, Buck and May offer to go instead. Over the course of the trip, they all learn more about each other, and Bobby faces his grief. Part 2: When unexpected circumstances require Buck to travel back to Hershey for the first time in over a decade, Eddie and Chris are right by his side. Part 3: The dynamics between everyone change when Buck and Eddie have another child and Bobby moves on from the 118. Affectionately referred to as the "Grandpa Bobby fic"

Evan Buckley & The Coma-Verse of Madness by Daisies_and_Briars

(57,964 words | Teen And Up Audiences | Chapters: 15/15)

After being struck by lightning on a call, Buck experiences a plethora of alternate realities showing him different directions his life could have taken. Fighting hard to get home, Buck learns what, or who, is important to him in every lifetime. Inspired by a mix of Marvel multiverses and The Midnight Library by Matt Haig.

and here, too, am i by Daisies_and_Briars

(41,117 words | Teen And Up Audiences | Chapters: 4/4)

Six months into their marriage, Eddie is still struggling to decide whether or not he wants more kids, when he knows Buck does. The universe may not scream, but it certainly talks.

Leading with the Left by letmetellyouaboutmyfeels

(84,763 words | Explicit | Chapters: 18/18)

When Buck said he was a "bartender" in "South America" what he actually meant was "stripper" in "Mexico." And when Eddie said, "What's your problem?" what he actually meant was, "Is this about the time you gave me a lap dance?" In other words, there's a few things the 118 doesn't know about Buck. Or Eddie. Or Buck and Eddie's relationship.

that magic feeling by woodchoc_magnum

(42,694 words | Explicit | Chapters: 2/2)

An alternate ending to season 7, in which Eddie doesn't completely blow his life up, and he and Buck realise they're in love.

something touched me (like a knife-blade) by kithmet

(42,076 words | Explicit | Chapters: 4/4)

“I feel fucking explosive, Buck. Like I’m about to go off at any second. I don’t want you caught in my mess.” His eyes sting. At the very least, Buck contains the sound of it in his voice. “Eddie, I don’t know if you’ve noticed,” he replies, “but I already am.” Eddie self-implodes. Christopher, seeking refuge, flees to Buck—whose priorities amount to, in varying order: take in the kid, get Eddie to talk to him, and keep the three of them afloat in the process. (Oh, and Tommy’s there too. He thinks.)

Descendants of Cyrano by letmetellyouaboutmyfeels

(55,314 words | Explicit | Chapters: 1/1)

People have their characters romance each other all the time while playing Dungeons & Dragons. There's deep meaningful monologues and sometimes some crying. It's normal. "Normal" is definitely not the word for whatever Buck and Eddie are inflicting on the rest of the 118.

[far-side-skies]

Reworking Noob

Inspired by this post by @crossyyt. Saying what we're all thinking, Number One Fan was a lackluster episode despite the fact that it furthered what little overarching plot we managed to get out of the end of Season 2.

And it's because of this guy.

Gifs from this post by @atmosiacyclonia

Yeah, Noob. "The fan", and the writers' way of making jabs at both the fanbase and the industry as a whole apparently. Kind of entertaining on a first watch, especially over a decade after the show has ended, but looking at it critically...

He's just kind of a nothing character overall. We didn't need him to get involved in the quest for Warp crystals, he doesn't add anything to the story, he doesn't leave any meaningful impact on the story and yet he gets frozen in the prison crystal in Cyclonia Rising. Anyone could've been in his place and not much would've changed overall.

But I'm a believer that all characters have a use, you just need to find one for them. Noob didn't have much potential, but the potential that he did have feels wasted.

So let's see how he could've been put to better use.

TL;DR: I put him on the reserve team that was mentioned in Talon Academy and then never brought up again. Alternatively he could be a relative of Dark Ace.

Edit: I hit post on this too soon, added more thoughts as soon as I realised this wasn't in my drafts anymore.

First off: remove the meta commentary aspect. Poking fun at fans is bad form and commentary on real-life merch production in a fantasy setting like this is, in my opinion, nonsensical and makes my worldbuilding brain itch.

Second: Let's take a look at this kid's design.

When did y'all notice that Noob has black hair

and red eyes?

I only noticed a year ago.

Remind you of someone?

Allow me to freak out a bit, because

This can't have been an accident, right? What was the intent behind it? As far as I've noticed, these are the only two characters with this specific colouring. What was Nerd Corps trying to tell us??

Ok, freakout over. What are our options?

Noob and Dark Ace are related, and Noob's obsession with the Storm Hawks comes from knowing that he had a relative who was part of the old team.

Possible, but considering how quickly Noob bounced from being a Storm Hawks fan to an Absolute Zeroes fan, I don't think it's likely. If that is the case, then a rewrite of the episode would be needed to show a little bit more loyalty from Noob. I don't know about everyone else, but the jump from one fanbase to another feels like a pattern of behaviour in my opinion. He rotates through special interests on the regular. Nothing against that in a real-life context, but it feels like another mean-spirited jab at fans.

Meta commentary aside, Noob could be rewritten to be a fan of the original Storm Hawks because of this potential relation to them. It'd give us something close to a "real" origins episode if Noob was given a chance to infodump about his old idols. Maybe he dislikes the new team for being "inauthentic", or he doesn't care all that much about them, he's just interested in the Condor; a crucial piece of Storm Hawks history.

As for Dark Ace? Noob could either be unaware that the copilot he might be related to was a traitor (possibly indicating that the Sky Knights tried to cover up the traitor aspect), or he rejects the copilot out of disgust. He's just a traitorous Cyclonian after all and fodder for an identity crisis in Noob if he was anything close to a main character.

In short: Noob could've been used as an exposition device.

Option 2, and my personal take on how Noob can be made useful:

Rewrite him in full and give him a touch more screen time. Put him in Talon Academy for a scene or two, and then have him beg to join the reserve team that Aerrow suggested to Lynn. "Number One Fan" makes good on this suggestion and is about the whole reserve team, not just Noob.

I see this as a two birds, one stone solution. Noob gets to be useful, keeps his character trait as a mega-fan of the Storm Hawks, and that loose end from Talon Academy gets tied up somewhat. As much as I love the show, its episodic writing lead to quite a bit of disappointment. But it just means we get to play with all the elements like dolls.

Let him be an exposition piece for the world in regards to sky knight merchandise, but have it make sense in the context of Atmos. If he really is the only Storm Hawks fan out there (which I find doubtful), why are action figures of the team being made without the Hawks knowing? Either all his figures be handmade, or repurposed from existing figures of more popular teams like the Rex Guardians. Or hell, keep the joke that there aren't any Piper dolls in production, but have it be due to resource scarcity brought in by the war. Or Cyclonis bought every single Piper doll to use as target practise for whatever machine or weapon she's working on.

As I said above, let him be from the Talon Academy. Have him be so enamoured with the Hawks' takedown of this Cyclonian institution that he latched onto them as heroes and then got wrapped up in war propaganda in his efforts to become their number one fan. He's obviously a good few years younger than the team, so have his understanding of the war be incredibly shallow, and maybe give him an arc where he learns from that.

I was going to add more to this a lot more but a misclick or some kind of tumblr goof caused this to he published half-finished instead of saving it to my drafts, so eventually I'll make another post elaborating on these ideas. For now though I'm curious to see what everyone thinks, and their own takes on Noob. Is he a waste of screen time? Did you guys scrap him in your AUs? Did yall forget about him? Let me know.

[lexosaurus]

The Phantom Martian: Chapter 11

ǐ̸̢͎̜̮͍̮͓̹̃̂̏̑̍́̓́̕t̸͖͚̬͖̙̞̦̞̬͒͒̈́́̒̂̆̀͘ͅ'̸̧̛͈̗͑s̵̲͚̬̃̀̊̆̑̃͒̾͌ ̸̝̊̀̎͗͘͝͝͝t̴̲̩̝̹̞̣̀͆i̴͕̱͔̭̤̐̃́̿̀̐̈́͑͝͝m̶̦̄̓͠ȩ̷̲̖̹̼͔̻̒̋̅̄̔̽̚

This fic is a crossover between Danny Phantom x The Martian. You do not have to have read or watched The Martian in order to understand this fic. I started writing this fic due to a jOKE and then my "little 10k oneshot" turned into this monstrosity and I was having too much fun so I just kept going and uhhhh voila!

xxxx

Summary: When Astronaut Mark Watney went to Mars, he knew there was a chance he'd never come home. Now, though, he's determined to last long enough for NASA to save him because this whole dying for science thing is not as fun as it sounds.

Meanwhile, Danny Fenton is just trying to keep his identity a secret amidst a potential crisis with his powers. Seriously, what's up with that weird current under his skin? Why is he having so much trouble controlling it? And why does it feel so familiar...?

In a fit of determination (and possible stupidity), Danny goes to Mars to save Watney, only to add to both their crises when he arrives and can't get home. Will NASA save them? Will Danny have a home to return to if they do?

Chapter WC: 5709

Fic Tags: Danny Fenton & Mark Watney, Canon Divergence, Ecton AU

Chapter excerpt under the cut

xxxx

Log Entry: Sol 119

There was a child in the rover.

Now, under normal circumstances, that may have been surprising. Pearl-clutching, even. I mean, a child in the rover? On Mars? Heavens, no!

This is precisely why I was, once again, the picture-perfect model of what a cool, calm, and collected American-born-and-raised astronaut should be.

I definitely didn't scream and drop him. Nope, no way, not me.

Definitely not.

Oh yeah, in case you haven't pieced it together yet, the child is Phantom. Except, it's not Phantom. I mean, it is, but it's not in the sense that it's not even a phantom. The regular noun version of it. You know, a ghost? Yeah, there’s no ghost here. This is...a regular kid.

A normal, very alive kid.

I know what you're thinking. You’re probably saying, “Mark, that's impossible! It must be all the radiation finally giving you every type of cancer known to man!”

But no, and I considered that possibility first. I figured I must be hallucinating, I've finally snapped, gone crazy on Mars, all the GCR radiation got to my brain—you know, all the normal thoughts that pass through your brain on a daily basis.

But no. There really is a non-phantom kid in the rover. 

[walker-extended-universe]

Why I love Larry James

Larry James is, of the regular cast, one of the least explored. While this is largely due to him being more of a recurring character than a regular character, I can't help but latch on to him with all my questions. But beyond my overanalytic brain, there's something very heartfelt about his character that makes me appreciate every moment he's on screen. That's what I want to talk about today.

One of the first things we come to understand about James is that he takes his job and responsibilities very seriously. He worked hard to become captain and he doesn't want to give any doubts on whether he deserves it. While that means he can be hard on his people sometimes, it also means he knows when to listen to them. The latter is a skill he's gotten better at as the show goes on and that really speaks to his ability to learn and grow, both professionally and personally.

Another thing I've come to appreciate about him is how calm he is in a crisis. Whether it be personal or professional (or both), James has a steady hand and a steadier voice, something that's needed when you have a ranger crew of Walker and Cassie. I think this is shown best when he's trying to talk Tessa out of treating Cordell like the only suspect in 3x15. While everyone else was ready to throw hands, he was trying to focus on logic and getting the case solved, something that deserves more respect than he got in that moment. I can only hope he'll manage to hold onto that going into season 4.

Aside from his professional growth, I've also very much enjoyed his personal plots over the last few seasons. His growth as a father figure with DJ was an absolute joy to watch, from DJ's first appearance to when he was named as James' best man. That said, I think his best plot by far was him reconnecting with Kelly. Despite their divorce, his love and care for her was displayed from her first introduction in season 2. Watching him work on himself to become the kind of man she wants to be married to for the past few seasons has been a joy and an inspiration. Their wedding in the season 3 finale was a beautiful culmination of that and I hope they keep it up going into next season.

To round this off, here's a short list of things I love about Larry James:

Coby Bell

Best Dad in the show

Wears the badge well

His team is family

Patience of a saint

Growth(tm)

Partner banter with Walker

Just a delight on screen

TL;DR:

I love Larry James

[sergeant-angels-trashcan]

if you have not seen discowing era dick… you need to. you may rethink the fashion stance lmao 😂 just imagine kate giving him shit for that, which he of course will defend by going after the Infamous Hip Holes

also while he has been a cop (ugh) dick really just picks a career and magically gets it???? like epitome of a nepo baby, bruce just buys him jobs I am CONVINCED. he’s been a social worker, a museum curator, a cop, he owned a crossfit studio (if you see babs on the yoga mat upstairs in GK, it’s a nod to that!), and depending on canon he has a law degree????

and riffing off of that degree… nightwing vs. daredevil rivalry WHEN. they are parkour badasses. they’re street level heroes who are just regular guys. they have fantastic asses. dick you cannot also have a law degree you CANNOT TAKE MATT’S ONE THING— my running joke is that if dick shows up and he’s better than matt at everything, matt might have a Small Existential Crisis

xoxo dickate anon 🩵💜

oh i KNEW about discowing when i called him a fashion boi. I did not specify it was good fashion. nightwing is that one tiktok. "I don't dress for men, I dress for little girls (children?) who have been told at some point in their lives that this is not a fashion show, and for old women drunk on their porch."

also nepo baby dick is hiLArious considering that I have been thinking all day about how in a separate-universes world, everyone in Kate's world thinks he's a golddigger. The tabloids and gossip mags are so confused??? He's a stay at home boyfriend? He literally doesn't have a job. He basically doesn't even exist. Kate's always saying he's home visiting his family, or traveling. Is he a spy? Does he do crime? He didn't know who Captain America was, he's just a himbo. He absolutely could not be a spy. Dick LOVES this, I feel like. It's much funnier when people think that about him than when they think that about Kate (which is what happens when she goes to his universe)

There's a post from forever ago about someone who's supervisor called their partner "Boytoy" at work, like, exclusively. And the guy knew and was fine with it, but anyway he came in one day and the op went "Mr. Toy, I presume?" and he went "The very one." This is very much Dick and Kate. also somehow he meets Anthony Bourdain, and this is a Good Timeline where he's still alive and Dick winds up traveling with him for a few episodes? That would be a fun dichotomy

Kate turns her back for five seconds and Clint and Dick have gone undercover at a circus. Kate expected this from Clint, but Dick knows better. Which prompts Dick explaining that CLINT is the brains of the operation, not Dick, he's the beauty, and Clint getting mad because HE'S the beauty, and Kate just sighs. Clearly neither of you are the brains.

Dick loves that there are no expectations of him in Kate's universe. It's like a vacation. He gets to be a himbo here. There's absolutely a pic of them on insta that he captioned "this barbie is an Avenger. He's just ken" and he will not HEAR Kate's arguments about how technically by Barbie/Ken rules he is also a Barbie. Dick pouts and is like I AM KENOUGH.

All of this leads to a mostly funny conception the Avengers have of Dick. They know he's Nightwing, he doesn't really need a secret identity here, but they don't...get it. He's bouncy and casual because he's still watching Kate's teams, figuring out how best to support, and he doesn't want to step on Kate's toes by accidentally being Too In Charge. So there's this idea that he really IS a himbo until Kate gets injured or captured. If she gets injured on a mission he's on? Look. It clears things up right away. He will absolutely rip apart whatever faction or organization caused that to happen with his bare hands. And God for-fucking-bid he encounters the actual individual responsible for harming her. I'm not saying someone's getting kicked off of a roof but, someone is moving from the roof to the sidewalk in the most expedient way possible.

This is also funny because it makes very clear how different their preferred fighting styles are, because Kate picked A VERY DEFENSIBLE POSITION, please stop worrying, Dick. And she's right! It is! IF YOUR PREFERRED WEAPON IS RANGED.

Now Dick is standing over his mostly unconscious girlfriend who looks like her face got scraped against the ground (because it did), preparing to defend them from all sides. fucking snipers.

It also leads to a fun moment where Kate can't lead. Eli isn't there, so normally command of the team would slide into Cap's purview (if cap and whoever his second is are down, Avengers command would slide over to Kate) so Cap is getting ready to start giving the YA some orders and Dick, not even THINKING about it, just kind of assumes command of the young Avengers and NONE OF THEM QUESTION IT???? He doesn't lead like Kate. He doesn't give orders like Kate, he doesn't even sound like Kate, with cadence or whatever. But there's something that is just kate like enough that her team is like yep this is correct. (The same thing will happen in reverse with the titans) After that the Avengers stop roasting him behind Kate's back.

Also, THE HIP HOLES. look. We need to admit that Kate, canonically, does not have great taste in her avengering uniform. Why did she choose this look? why is she so attached to it?

Like if Kate has the audacity to genuinely criticize discowing?? If for some reason she's wearing a different costume or they got tossed into Gotham in their civvies, her team will absolutely throw her under the bus in order to get brownie points with the batkids.

You can't talk about the deep vee when you had YOUR ENTIRE ABDOMEN OUT BABE. Nothing! Not even a tissue! The body confidence is great Kate but seriously how did you not die. (he's into the scarf, though)

And if Kate actually wears the hip holes? Dick is poking at her trying to figure out if they're actually holes? Is there mesh there? Is it flesh toned fabric? No?? It's actually holes? This man is going to stick his hand in one just to see because what the fuck, Kate, and Kate's going to be like. Dick. Dickie. Nightwing. Your hand is under my costume. Do you realize where your hand is.

Is THAT what it's for?!?!? Dick is now seeing how far he can get his hand. The small of her back? Her other hip? Their friends are scREAMing. Guys? Could you do this some other time?? Like maybe when we're NOT ON FUCKING PATROL?????

anyway now Dick is wondering how far he can actually get his hand inside her uniform and he WASN'T thinking about it Like That before but he sure is now

[wishitweresummer]

Blueberry Muffins - Chapter Three

“We’ll figure it out.”

Word count: 2606

Warnings: It’s SFW, but it it does start showing relationship-y interactions. A dash of sexuality crisis. A little angsty, too. (Mostly fluff <3)

     They woke up closer than they had ever been before. Well...Bad did.  He felt his body shiver without his permission and suddenly realized what had pulled him back into consciousness. Soft slow puffs of hot air were tickling at his jawline. Bad flushed horribly as he realized he was also feeling Skeppy's lips against his neck. The soft damp little pillows half pressed against his sensitive skin. It took everything in him to not panic. His heart was jumping in his chest. 'Don't move.', he commanded in his head. It was hard. He let his eyes drift down to take in the situation; Skeppy clinging to him with his face buried in his neck. Bad's arms were also around the slightly-smaller boy. Their legs tangled together. While Skeppy's unbearably soft breath was threatening to pull giggles out of him, he had somehow never been more comfortable. Or worked up. He almost flinched at his own thoughts. Bad soon closed his eyes and decided to just give in and stay still.

                                          ~•~

     "You're comfy.", Skeppy mumbled against Bad's neck after a few long lovely minutes of the strangest torture Bad had ever been put through. The lip-movement, vibration, and realization that now Skeppy knew how close they had been cuddling all combined to finally force those giggles out of Bad. Skeppy pulled back just enough to see Bad's face, smiling dopily at it. "What?", he tittered softly as well, rich with sleepiness.

     Bad scrunched his neck a little as his giggles started to fade.

"Just...sensitive.", he couldn't help smiling back at Skeppy's dumb face. His brain was begging him to tear his eyes away from the other's, panicking at the closeness, but...he really didn't want to. Skeppy had that voice that he was very familiar with, sleepy Skeppy. Calmer than regular Skeppy. He offered his brain permission to be calm as well.

After a while Bad let his eyes break away from Skeppy's gaze so he could take in his entire face. Messy hair. Parted lips. Stupid smile. Eyes threatening to close at any moment. ‘So so adorable.’, he thought fondly.

     That last one echoed in his mind against his will, but he let it slip away without too much scrutiny. He was sleepy, okay?

     Skeppy was having his own sleepy thoughts. He curiously watched as Bad's eyes trailed his face, wondering what he was looking for.

"Do I look blurry?", he slurred softly. Grinning widely as Bad laughed at his question and rolled his eyes. Seeing his best friend's reactions up this close was awesome. He breathed in his scent.

"No, we're too close for you to be blurry. My glasses are because I can't see far away.", Bad responded, amusement pouring out from his voice and gaze.

"I'll stay close then.", Skeppy giggled, feeling high as he watched every micro-reaction Bad had to his words. He felt Bad's grip around him tighten a little.

     The two sleepy muffins fell into an easy murmured conversation with each other as the sun rose higher in the sky, slow lazy light filling the hotel room.

     At some point Skeppy grew tired of holding his head back and just gave into his instinct to nuzzle into Bad's neck. He rationalized it by telling himself it was nuzzled in there when Bad woke up and there were no complaints, so there wouldn't be any now. And there weren't. There were giggles, though. Bad hadn't expected the move and Skeppy did not telegraph it well.

     Bad grabbed softly onto the back of Skeppy's t-shirt and let his head drop back further into the pillow, gasping with little giggles. The entire action was without his own intention.

"Jeez, you really are sensitive.", Skeppy mumbled intentionally against the side of Bad's neck, his chest a little tighter at his own boldness. The move drew an embarrassing whimper from the older boy's lips.

     They both just laid there with that noise out in the air. Skeppy's heart pounded. Bad's skipped a beat.

     More urges were popping up in Skeppy's mind. Ways to draw more hilarious noises out of his best friend. More fun reactions. What if he licked that spot? What if he bit it? He suppressed the evil laugh he felt bubbling up inside of him, not actually wanting to fluster Bad to death. He had felt Bad stiffen against him and pushed himself to think of ways to calm him down. To show him he wasn't going to freak out over that.

     Skeppy pulled back again and smiled as innocently as he could. "So ticklish.", he offered. Bad nodded, returning a relived smile.

"Ticklish.", he agreed, voice cracking obviously.

     Skeppy cracked as well, breaking down into that loud crazy laugh Bad loved so much. It pulled laughter from him as well and the two braced against each other as they dissipated the new strange tension.

                                         ~•~

     This was their last day together.

     They kicked softly at each others feet absentmindedly under the table as they ate breakfast together in the hotel's Breakfast Room.

     The two had both thought a lot about what it would be like in person. It was everything they had ever thought it would be, and more. The world faded away as they joked and talked. Just like how they would often forget about anyone else talking in their Teamspeak, they forgot about the strangers around them.

     Bad had piled his plate up with something of every food group while Skeppy had gotten just a blueberry waffle smothered in maple syrup, whip cream, and chocolate chips.

     Bad rolled his eyes playfully at how messy Skeppy ate. He watched him smirk and lick his sticky lips. The stickiness seeming to glue his gaze there for a little too long. He watched the smirk turn a little smirk-ier and snapped his eyes back up to meet Skeppy's. 'Oops.', his thoughts whispered.

"What?", Skeppy tilted his head. Bad shoved a napkin his way and looked away with a little huff. Skeppy laughed, basking in this new strange energy. He accepted the napkin and wiped his mouth anyway, playing along with the little skit they just put on together.

     The thing is, waking up engulfed in his best friend's love had felt amazing. And teasing him in bed that morning had breathed an excitement into his soul that he had never felt before. He wasn't fully grasping what all these feelings meant, but it felt good and Skeppy wanted to chase it. Things with Bad always worked out well so he wasn't all that scared right now.

     Bad tossed one of Skeppy's feet back and forth between his as he watched him, smiling at the laughter. This was nerve-wracking. And fun. Bad was more in-tune with his attraction to men, since that wasn't anything new, so he wasn't all that shocked at how beautiful he was finding his best friend. But, his innocence lapped Skeppy's by miles. And the reactions that Skeppy seemed to yank out of him effortlessly were very new.

The usual instances of playful played-up flirting for the audience were constant and exciting…but also happening still when they didn’t have that audience. They weren’t asking why.

     "What are we going to do today?", Bad asked.

                                           ~•~

     Skeppy wanted to suggest they head back to the hotel room for more cuddles, but restrained himself. They hadn't filmed any content since that first night. They hadn't really spoken about how the detailed plan they had laid out had seemed to go completely out the window. Both just felt once the structure was broken it was broken, and now they were enjoying the excitement of doing exactly what they wanted in each moment instead. When the two were scrolling through fanart the previous morning Skeppy had found inspiration for some content.

~•~

     They were both clumsy at this vlogging thing. Skeppy knew exactly how he would edit the footage into the absolute best bits, so he wasn't too worried. But, Bad wasn't sure how he would edit his own. He practiced not caring and just filmed what felt right. The two were on a wooden bench in front of a pond filled with ducks.

     They had looked up what was best to feed the ducks and taken a quick grocery store run to get the goods.

"Gross. Weirdos.", Skeppy informed Bad with a grin, indicating with his chin towards the bowl of lettuce, peas, and grapes between them. He grinned wider at the laugh it earned him. The ducks didn't agree with Skeppy's "gross" assessment and they both had a blast feeding the sweet little animals. None of the ducks seemed to mind how loud the two were and padded around their bench happily.

                                        ~•~

     They had finished vlogging, after having filmed almost every second since they finished breakfast. Now, they were just feeding the ducks and being close to each other, alone, again. In the morning Skeppy was supposed to check out of the hotel room and drive away from Bad once again. The approaching dawn was bringing a heavy feeling.

     "This has been the most fun I've ever had.", Skeppy offers his words to the air. The sentiment was happy, but the delivery was sad. Heartbreaking, really. His hand scraped the bottom of the bowl and he looked down to find it empty. Duck feeding time over. He sighed. He dropped his head back again to stare up at the sky, avoiding Bad's look. His chest was tightening more and more and it was becoming unbearable. He knew seeing Bad upset would burst the emotions up and out of him. So instead, he let his watery eyes search for stars that weren't really visible yet.

He didn't feel any more relaxed when he felt Bad give up on trying to make eye contact.

"I don't want it to end either.", Bad said quietly. His voice gave away his misery plainly, not one to hide his emotions. Someone grabbed the other's hand and they scooted in closer, leaning their heads together as they watched the sky change colors. It wasn't a pretty sunset. It was just a sliding color change from light to dark that was horribly boring and a waste of precious time. Bad sighed softly as he felt a tear roll off Skeppy's cheek and down his own. He squeezed his hand. "We'll figure this out.", he whispered. Unsure what he was promising, but promising it with his whole heart.

                                          ~•~

     Another thing between them went unspoken. They were past pretending they didn't want to cuddle. With the impending separation that the morning would bring they clung to each other. The earlier sadness was slowly wrung out of them by just how much they enjoyed being together.

Sure, it burned somewhere in the back of their minds, but the stupid jokes and teasing were all they needed for the time being. They were squeezing each other's sides and teasing mercilessly about each noise they could get out of one another. At one point Skeppy rolled away in a playful huff and Bad squeezed his shoulders, pulling a snort out of him. Bad pressed his face into Skeppy's back as they broke down into hysterics over it. Skeppy's face burned hot and he covered it with both hands, muffling his laughter.

"No let me see!", Bad sat up, still laughing as he rolled Skeppy on his back and pried his hands away from his face, pinning his wrists down on either side as he greedily took in all of Skeppy's embarrassment. Skeppy whimpered. Pride swept over Bad as his mind connected the sound to this morning, when Skeppy had forced the same noise out of him.

     Bad straddled Skeppy's hips and leaned over him, holding him down easily. Skeppy was beyond flustered, but bravely stared back. Both had been slowly quieting down. There had been plenty of times during their meet-up where things felt intense, but they were all dwarfed by this one moment.

'What's...happening...', their thoughts sizzled, unknowingly in sync.

     The pull was stronger and faster than both their reaction times. In an instant their eyes were closed and they were connected at the lips. Love and hope prickled between them as they melted together. It was soft and innocent. Delicate.

     Bad still had Skeppy pinned in place, but his lips moved against his tenderly, afraid to startle. Skeppy's lips were already playing at a smile. He returned the kiss playful and soft, desperately slow as he tried to memorize Bad's mouth.

     When Bad felt his head start to spin he pulled up for air, but not far. They gasped quietly as they brushed their lips together, unwilling to be apart.

"Are you okay?", Bad murmured. Skeppy laughed suddenly and Bad pulled away further with a smile. Both were a little shocked at how light the air still felt after something so...life-changing had occurred. Bad pulled away even more and watched as his best friend laughed at his dumb question, clearly begging for punishment. He ducked his head down and bit into the side of his neck. Skeppy's laughter warping into a shocked cry, a little whimper, then high-pitched giggles as Bad started to nibble playfully at the sensitive skin. He kicked at the bed annoyed that Bad had the nerve to act on those instincts he had chickened out on earlier, now being the one having to take it.

"Quit!", he whined through the giggles, pretending to fight Bad's hold on him. Bad 'tsked' knowingly, but released him anyway. Skeppy grabbed him and rolled them on their sides, wrapping his arms around his neck as he pulled him in for more kisses. Bad's arms snaked around his smaller frame and tugged him even closer, a happy noise vibrating between their kiss as their lips moved against each other. Sweeter than anything.

                                         ~•~

     "I definitely can't leave now.", Skeppy spoke suddenly. His head was resting on Bad's chest as his fingers ran through his floppy black mess of hair. Bad hummed softly at the words, wanting to hear more. "We have to figure...I can't just...", Skeppy sighed, taking a moment to breathe in more of Bad's scent. Bad sunk his fingers in deeper and started to massage Skeppy's scalp, physically forcing him to calm down.

"We will figure this out.", Bad smiled down at the shadow that was his best friend. They were just laying in the dark together. They still haven't talked much since the honey-sweet make out session that had occurred. "Let's just say whatever it is that we want and then let's just do it. Whatever. Let's make it simple.", he said and scratched softly against Skeppy's scalp to coax a sigh out of him.

"Okay.".

     Skeppy sat up and made room for Bad, the two getting into cross-legged sitting positions in front of each other.

"I want to stay with you.", Bad said. Skeppy grinned.

"I want to stay with you.", he agreed.

"Then we will stay together.", he said simply and shrugged his shoulders like it was obvious.

     They held hands and stole kisses as they cuddled to their hearts content and made all the plans in the world. Their life trajectories changing course for one another yet again. No sleep tonight. Not until the sun was hinting at rising and they realized they needed at least a little.

     Skeppy and Bad set an alarm that would wake them in a few hours and huddled close together with no hesitation or shame. Hands tugging hips and shoulders in close as they fought to be closer. Vowing to stay that way as long as possible.

[inevitably-johnlocked]

Why do I feel like a failure? Why do I feel like I'm shit at my new job even if I've never received a complaint in these three months? Why do I feel like everyone is talking behind my back about how boring/ugly/stupid I am? Why do I have to feel like this and not enjoy even a fkng day? I'm sorry if this is too much Steph, but your words really helped me in the past. I don't really know how to handle all of this. I'm about to explode

Hey Nonny *HUGS*

Oof, if this isn't relatable to me, I don't know what is. I first want to preface this with this is STRICTLY my opinion, and that I am in no way a professional. I'm just giving you a few anecdotes from my own life, but please take my advice with a grain of salt; I strongly encourage you to talk to either a therapist, counsellor, or someone you trust.

Also, I myself am going through a rough headspace few months, so I'm going to try my best to answer this as carefully as I can so while I try my best to make you feel better, I have to, for my own mental health, not go on into too much detail that will spiral me myself. I just didn't want to leave this message hanging for a few months when winter is finally over and my headspace would be better, is all, and will try my best. I am worried about you <3

I'm not sure where you live, if you are in an ENDLESS winter like I am, but a lot of this sounds like seasonal depression talking at the least, but more likely poor self-esteem and actual full-on depression if this is a "regular" thing for you. Nonny, please know, as I grew older, most of those thoughts are more-than-likely in your head; a perception of reality becomes exceptionally distorted, especially if you have poor self worth/esteem. Everything feels like the worst-case-scenario, and while I did grow out of it a bit the older I got when I became more "fuck 'em" in my attitude, but I still finally had to see a therapist because it's too much for me to handle on my own. Especially coupled with anxiety and seasonal depression that's at its worst in January and February, and I just... crack some times. Plus my self esteem is really non-existent and whoops, suddenly I'm in the exact same headspace you're in, Nonny. It's terrifying, feeling like you can't escape your own brain's perception of everything.

Sometimes, just taking a step back from everything helps, too, Nonny. I know it's cliché, but doing something you know you enjoy can help improve your mood. I like doing art, replaying a video game I KNOW I love and don't get frustrated in, listening to music, watch a movie, or even just reading. It all turns my brain off after a bit and it does help a lot. And get off social media, because places like TikTok, Instagram and Twitter will only make your self esteem worse.

And I want to stress: IT'S OKAY TO NEED HELP. YOU DON'T HAVE TO SUFFER ALONE. My own therapy is talk-therapy, and we talk about usually my current events but she spends a lot of time letting me know that my own feelings are valid, and we talk through the feelings I have when they overwhelm me. We talk about my job, and my home life, my future and my past, and it's just nice to have someone unbiased to talk to for an hour a few times a year, you know? I think you would benefit a lot from it too, if you are able. I got lucky and connected immediately with the therapist I got, but know mine is an exception: it might take a few different people before you find the right one.

That all said, your message strays darker than I think you realize though, Nonny, and I worry about you. I have a huge list of some help lines and Mental Health Resources that I think you will benefit from as well:

741741 Suicide Helpline / Texting Crisis Service

7Cups Online Emotional Support Therapists

National Suicide Prevention Lifeline (USA): 1-800-273-8255

Crisis Services Canada: Call 1.833.456.4566 || Text/SMS: 45645

Canada Suicide Prevention Centre (Talk Suicide Canada): 833-456-4566 || SMS: Text START to 741741

Lifeline Australia: 13 11 14

Suicide SupportLine (UK): 01708 765200

Suicide Crisis Helpline (NZ) 0508 828 865

Kid’s Help Phone (They are Canadian, but I think they’ll be able to direct y'all to the proper place for your country – for youth and young adults 18 and under): 1-800-668-6868 || They also have a Live Chat with a professional counsellor from 7PM to midnight EST

1Call1Click.ca (Eastern Ontario) - A simple way for children, youth up to 21 years and families to access the right mental health and addiction care, at the right time. Call 613-260-2360 or toll free at 1-877-377-7775

Suicide and Crisis Lifeline (USA) - Available to anyone in suicidal crisis or emotional distress. Dial 9-8-8 (as a side note, Canada will also be adopting this number in Fall 2023).

Suicide Hotlines.com (USA)

AND IF YOUR COUNTRY IS NOT HERE: Wikipedia’s List of Suicide Crisis Lines By Country

If you live in Canada, the government is providing SOME FREE mental health resources. It’s an exhaustive list with resources for each province as well as some tips to help cope.

The City of Ottawa ALSO has a list of Local Mental Health Resources. While I’m sure that if you’re not from Ottawa, you can probably call one of them and ask if they know if there’s any for your region.

I'm ALWAYS collecting resources to help spread to y'all, so if you guys have some you've used, please do share. All of my google results are primarily Canadian, so if you have some other regional resource, I want to add them. Mental health is super important to me, and I want to always have an up-to-date list for anyone struggling.

That all said Nonny, my heart is hurting for you, and I want you to know that we are all here for you. Know that you are loved and cared about, and be safe <3 It WILL get better, Nonny.

*SNUGGLE BUGGLE HUGGLE*

[rainbow-0bsidian]

my stuff on AO3

bite me

Rating: T Words: 2278 Relationship: Ronan Lynch/Adam Parrish Summary:

“Ronan?” She laughed. “He’s all bark no bite. You don’t need to worry about him.”

***

Transformed by the Changing Light

Rating: T Words: 3012 Relationship: Ronan Lynch/Adam Parrish Summary:

“It was a cold, dark morning when my father die—” his voice cracked, interrupting the word, and he heaved a ragged breath then amended, “—was murdered.”

Adam looked at Ronan and away again, giving him space to continue. Ronan was grateful.

“It felt like time spiralled backwards and I was seeing it all again, but I was awake, man. It was outside of my nightmares.”

“It wasn’t real,” Adam said pragmatically, but not unkindly.

“It felt real,” Ronan countered, “which is nearly the same thing.”

***

up for interpretation

Rating: G Words: 1402 Relationship: Aaron Minyard + Neil Josten (not slash) Summary:

“What are you doing here?” Aaron asked, eyes narrowed. He was expecting Esther, or Elsbeth, or someone. The blonde one. Neil ignored him. 

“Je m'appelle Neil,” he continued. 

“Neil’s a translator—“

“—Un interprète.”

Potato-potato.

***

twenty seven fucking rainbows

Rating: T Words: 1752 Relationship: Andrew Minyard/Neil Josten Summary:

He walked away with words and concepts and labels pinging around his brain, distracting him from every other thought that tried to take hold and suddenly he needed answers. He was pretty sure that he had not seen 

• Have an identity crisis

on the objectives slide of the training PowerPoint.

***

(if you're feeling small) i'll love your shadow

Rating: E Words: 8892 Relationship: Kevin Day/Danielle Wilds Summary:

"You're an asshole, Kevin Day, but you're also a Fox." He stopped and turned back, but didn't meet her gaze. "It has just never occured to me until this moment that what Neil went through over Christmas was your life. I know that fucking grommet ruined your arm, but I guess I always thought things were fine until they weren't. But that's not the case is it? You know better than anyone else what happens when you defy a Moriyama."

Or, 

The one where Dan has a sex dream about a mysterious stranger and he turns up where she least expects it.

***

Dawning on Me

Rating: T Words: 21120 (one chapter to go) Relationship: Andrew Minyard/Neil Josten

Summary:

He’d been an overcast, human-shaped machine for much of his 30-odd years, watching Life happen to others, experiencing the idea of feelings more than the actual weight of them. A photocopy paling in comparison to the real thing. Even the less sunshiney emotions were an outfit he tried on from time to time; more like clothing, less like skin. Scratchy, weighted, and mildly uncomfortable if he took the time to really pay attention. -- Despite being a life long runner, Neil suddenly has an apartment, a kitten, a sofa, some house plants and a regular Sunday morning teaching gig at his favourite yoga studio. Andrew needs to calm tf down and if talking to potted plants doesn’t help, maybe a certain blue-eyed yoga teacher will.

***

You Know I Never Forgot

Rating: M Words: 11734 Relationship: Andrew Minyard/Neil Josten

Summary:

Topher was Andrew’s longest and least complicated relationship. The dusty brown fur-ball had followed Andrew home from the grocery store one cold fall day when he was a pup. Small and scruffy, ordinary, forgettable. Topher was the reason Andrew’s writing career had taken off. Topher was the reason Andrew could deal with the mindfuckery that was discovering he had a twin. And Topher would be—if Andrew wasn’t Andrew—the reason he never forgot the first unmemorable, dusty creature he’d come across almost twenty years ago. Or,

A lifetime ago Andrew met a dusty and thoroughly (un)forgettable barista. A lifetime later he meets him again.

***

MINYARD-JOSTEN RIVALRY

Rating: M Words: 3523 Relationship: Andrew Minyard/Neil Josten

Summary:

It started innocently enough. Neil made a snarky comment after Andrew blocked a goal, Andrew told him to get fucked, Neil grabbed the grill of his helmet and said I’m planning on it. Andrew felt the thrill of discovery when he realised there were cameras pointed right at them from behind the plexy-glass and the inbuilt mics would have picked up every word they said…  That night the DailyRacquet posted a photo of them nose-to-grill with the header: TEAM MATES TO RIVALS - WHAT HAPPENED AFTER PSU?

***

Goodwill, or Something Like That

Rating: T Words: 1010 Featuring: Andrew Minyard, Aaron Minyard, and that girl from the track team

Summary:

It’s no secret that Andrew makes a point of avoiding the library, but he supposes he can make an exception for Aaron. Or something.

***

Menace

Rating: M Words: 1348 Relationship: Andrew Minyard/Neil Josten

Summary:

This is new: Neil, being comfortable to have a few drinks and knowing Andrew has his back. Andrew being comfortable enough to relax while Neil drinks, without worrying about taking advantage or acting out of turn. Neil knows Andrew would never hurt him, and Andrew knows Neil will tell him to stop if he needs it, regardless of whether he’s a little pickled or not. Besides, it’s not like Neil is plastered. He’s hovering in that delicious space between sober and drunk, where his cheeks tingle, his thoughts are brave enough to navigate uncharted terrain, and his tongue is loose. It’s fun.

***

Collide

Rating: T Words: 10604 Relationships: Andrew Minyard + Ronan Lynch (best friends slash brothers, not lovers), Andrew Minyard/Neil Josten, Ronan Lynch/Adam Parrish

Summary:

Ronan Lynch could count on three fingers the things his father had taught him, and one of them was how to be a grade A asshole. The second was how to tell a fucking good story. And the third was how to drive cars. How to really drive cars - stick, of course; the more horsepower the better. Whether these were worthwhile life lessons or not depended entirely on the situation. All three had gotten Ronan into more trouble than he cared to catalogue. And all three had led him to Andrew Minyard, which was, of course, a very, very good thing.

***

Hal from Maintenance

Rating: T Words: 1551 Relationships: No ships, just Kevin, Nicky, Andrew... and Hal. From Maintenance.

Summary:

Kevin helps Nicky with a plumbing disaster, and Andrew meets someone new.

***

The Dry Cleaner

Rating: T Words: 5172 Relationship: Andrew Minyard/Neil Josten

Summary:

While they eat, everyone takes turns telling their weirdest experience of the week and at the end, Judge Andrew considers all evidence before announcing the verdict. This tradition of the Foxhole Court has been a fixture for a few years now and it’s one of Andrew’s favourite things. It used to be that he participated in the shenanigans too but he saw weird shit all of the time and no one wanted gory details at the dinner table. Or, Found family, chaotic good Neil, apple pies, and a strategic rainstorm.

***

Spirals and Knots

Rating: T Words: 1960 Relationship: Andrew Minyard/Neil Josten

Summary:

Andrew knows there is no rainforest this far from the equator and he’s pretty sure Neil knows he is watching him stretch and he wonders if Neil knows how much he’d like to take him to the back of the van right now and give him a lesson in geography. * Harriet's maiden voyage.

***

Pilgrim

Rating: T Words: 1748 Relationship: Andrew Minyard/Neil Josten

Summary:

The cicadas are already deafening when Andrew rolls over and discovers Neil is not in bed. Most other days this wouldn’t be surprising, but these days aren’t preceded with a night like last night anymore. * Neil runs away.

[algumaideia]

I read this post made by @brad-bakshi-apologist about why they think David was going to jump in the last episode of season 2. Some stuff they said just triggered something in my brain and now I have an entire analysis of David and pain and coping mechanisms that I think complement Theo's post nicely.

I have a lot of thoughts and I'm not sure how to organize them in a way that I'll be constructing an idea like brick by brick, you know? But I'm gonna try.

Theo said David was MQ's "punching bag". He has a few wins, loses a lot, no one truly respects him, he has no friends and at least no family around. He is a loser and he is very lonely. Everyone knows that, David knows that.

David and Ian share a similar trait. They both have lots of insecurities about themselves and low self-steem and they try to brush it off, to act like they don't exist. Ian does that by being very extra and David tries to be comfortable on his own skin and whenever someone says something mean to him, David is like: this is not true and I know it.

And as Theo said we rarely see him sad or in pain at MQ and that is because David doesn't feel much like a failure or lonely there. And we only see David at MQ, the place he gets to act confidently.

Why doesn't he feel a failure there? Because he is the boss of MQ (despite no one knowing this or respecting him) and MQ is a huge sucess. He thinks he is able to control the crazy people when he is not, someone takes care of the crazy people or they solve the problems themselves, but David gets to pretend he was doing something. He managed to survive some crises, mostly other people solved the crisis but David is the boss so he can feel like he was important to the crisis solving.

Why doesn't he feel lonely? Because of his MQ family. And I know people are mean to him, and they don't respect him and he doesn't know how to interact with people. I'm gonna dive into those things later, but first I wanna talk about what he does outside work because it is important to understand this part of David's relationship with his work.

So what David does when he is not at MQ? He doesn't have any friends, for a long time he didn't have a girlfriend, we don't know if any of his parents are alive, if he talks to them, if they live close to him... as far as we know David is alone. So, when he is not at work, David doesn't hang out. He stays at his home most of the time.

For me it is clear that David watches rom-coms and thinks it is great and wonderful and magical to see people falling in love and being so happy, but then the movie ends and David's reality is so different from the movies and he is heartbroken.

He probably cries himself to sleep a lot.

David also watches sit-coms. The ones with found family. He must love the ones that take place in an office. Everyone on those sitcoms are crazy and have their fair share of problems and that is what allow them to become a found family. Everyone in MQ are crazy and have their fair share of problems and David can project those ideas onto them. He called MQ his family. They are the closest thing he has for friends.

It is not the same, David knows it. But he gets to pretend.

Then he is not lonely.

In the quarentine episode, Poppy was struggling a lot to be completely alone without no one. Ian went to visit her. Do you guys think anyone would do that for David? No one would do that.

He must have struggled with similar stuff. Again he has no friends, we don't know his relationship with his parents. But while for Poppy the whole distance working was just a way for her to feel more isolated, I think it worked the opposite for David, it was a way for him to feel less isolated. (I also think he deals with this stuff on a regular basis).

Anyway, what is in the way of David's MQ family fantasy and his reality is the fact that people are mean to him, no one truly cares for him or respects him (he also doesn't know how to interact with people, but more on that later).

The thing is for people starving, any food tastes good.

It seems that David has been lonely since childhood. In the ep where Ian and Poppy where going through the divorce they were treating David like his parents did. They weren't listening to him, giving him any real comfort, spending any real time with him. He was left to suffer alone.

In the quarentine episode David said that during the divorce his mother gave him money to do something outside the house. It seems he didn't have any friend's house to stay.

David has been lonely for a long time. He does not receive any comfort, he does not receive any affection.

He is always so eager to talk about his personal life at the office like he has no one to talk outside of there.

No one never really listens to him or cares about what he is talking, they often insult him. And David is hurt, but quickly he is smiling again. I guess a little of attention is better than nothing.

Besides with his divorce and his parents divorce he never truly saw people just showing genuine care and love and affection.

And there is the fact that David doesn't know how to interact with people. He misreads signals, we saw the dumpster fire that is him flirting. He knows he is a loser and tries to distance himself from it by being a cool guy, a nice guy, a lone wolf, a alpha boss or whatever the hell he considers that will make people respect him, like him.

He fails to do that, he is not good at it.

He doesn't realize how annoying and how nonsensical he can be. How extreme he can be. There is a Brazilian saying that I think describe his attitude to relationships really well: "go very thirsty to the pot" (ir com muita sede ao pote).

David is often portrayed as pathetic on how much he needs and begs for affection.

He is also a push over. I mean he gave his appartament to his ex-wife. It is easy to take advantage of his insecurites and low self-steem and loneliness.

And I mean the guy has no-one. When he needed to move he asked Brad to help him. I mean Brad, you know?

The first person he had a relationship outside MQ for a long time was the widow. And he rushed things and didn't understand her correctly.

What he does right after she dumped him? Take a photo with the testers and call MQ his family. David again has nothing outside MQ. And right after that the testers go away, Ian and Poppy go away, Brad goes away. The thing that didn't make him a failure is falling a part. The people that didn't make him lonely are going away.

Worse, everyone seems to be happy. He is the only sad loner.

No wonder David was going to jump. He had nothing. MQ was his coping mechanism for reality and it was all gone.

Until Jo appared and then he had something again.

The thing is that David is constantly suffering in the show and no one cares. He has no one. He is lonely. He doesn't know how to make friends or genuine connect with people. David has no Poppy or Ian to be at this side when he is at his worse, he only has his miserable life.

Do you guys people would reunite to meet him like they did with CW in first episode of season 3? I doubt it.

[sio-writes]

Witch's Gambit - Chapter 2

Summary: Lucy Breban, a witch living in the magical city of Grayslate, has just found out her good friend has been murdered in cold blood. When the cops dismiss the case, Lucy must employ the help of her reclusive, skeletal neighbor Weston when the answers the police provide aren't enough. As they get closer to the truth (as well as each other), the two begin to unravel an underground secret that could rock the very foundations of the place they call home.

<< Chapter 1

The following handful of days are monotonous. I drift through them in a haze, stuck on autopilot because anything else is too overwhellming. Customers come in, customers go out. All the while, my mind is buzzing, my thoughts an incessant fly around my head.

I wave goodbye to Elliot as the coroner's vehicle rolls down the street. I watch as police go back and forth down the street, flashing bulbs painting my shop in shades of blue and red.

It's halfway through the evening when I can't take it anymore. I watch as a young couple peruse the racks of charms I offer towards the front. They're the type not to buy anything, simply coming into a witch's shop for the fun, and I don't mind patrons like that as long as they don't try to steal anything. The boy has wispy black hair pushed away from his face, he's tall and lean, and out of the corner of my eye I thought, just for a moment, that Elliot had come into my shop like he always does on his days off. 

And I'm hit with a pang of melancholy so powerful, so concentrated, that I'm bent over myself before I can think. Every feeling I'd been hoping to store away comes rushing out full force--the anger, the fear, the sorrow, oh the sorrow. No more dances, no more tea, no more easy conversation over pastries. It feels incredibly selfish to think of it this way, what I'm lacking instead of what his family, his other friends may be without, but I can't help it. All I can think about it what I'll miss, the void in my life, what can't be replaced.

I crouch on the floor, as if being closer to the tile will make my descent into grief that much easier. 

Mr. Guss toddles up to me, sympathy etched in the lines on his face. He pats my back as I dissolve into sobs and the few people in the shop awkwardly shuffle out.

"I'm sorry," he says, his hand big and heavy over my back. "He was a good kid."

I don't respond, but I don't think he expects me to, and for that I'm grateful.

The chime over the door goes off and I hear Lady Duranta exclaim, "Oh dear!" before she also toddles over with her clicking heels and cane.

Lady Dee is a regular, and has been since I first opened. She's always been there when I'm in a crisis, whether that be telling off a grouchy customer or helping me put out a fire, she always manages to turn up at the worst of times. Once I'd asked whether she had any magic lineage and she'd just laughed and continued helping me pick up a shattered kettle from the shelf. It makes sense she'd be here when I'm having a moment of hysteria. 

"I'll take it from here, Guss," she says, her voice like butter. 

Guss, who seems quite uncomfortable, shuffles around us to my other side.

"Are you going to be okay, Ms. Breban?"

It takes me a minute to gulp down the air necessary to respond. "Fine, I'll be fine."

Mr. Guss awkwardly pats my shoulder, and I hear the chime of the bell go off and the slide of the lock in place.

Lady Dee is at my side again, fretting over me as she guides me to the ground. We sit there, on the dirty floor, as I sob my brains out and she rubs my arms with her wizened hands. She can be harsh, pushy, but she also has a soft side. She never chides me for getting upset, not that she's seen much of it. But this side that cares for me, wipes my tears away. I didn't know my grandmother, both of them passed before I was born, but I imagine Lady Dee would be a good fit.

I manage to stop hyperventilating long enough to watch another round of police officers glance in my window and roll their eyes.

Lady Dee sighs above me. "I'm going to miss him too, dear," she says into the quiet of the store.

***

Because I was raised to be a good host, I lead her to the small storage room in the back, where I've hooked up a small portable stovetop with a kettle. Calling the moisture in the air to create water feels like a heavy blanket on my shoulders, but calling it in such a way gives the tea a clean, crisp taste that tap water just doesn't compare to.

Lady Dee won't let me do any more though, ushering me to sit at the small card table I've set up, sitting me in one of the rickety folding chairs that I've needed to repair for going on two years now. It squeaks unpleasantly as I sit, and the silence is broken by Lady Dee making tea and my occasional sniffing.

Crying always leaves me feeling hollowed out. It allows me the space to think, but also feel guilty for focusing on myself. I'm competent enough to store away such unsavory emotions for a later date, but the past few days I've been too exhausted to do anything past make myself dinner and go to bed. Perhaps this was a long time coming, then. I should know better.

Still, the space is quiet, and I feel my mind working over the case.

Elliot knew who his killer was, and he was afraid. The information gleaned from his soul imprint didn't tell me a lot, but there must have been something I missed, that the detectives missed. They can't just let this go, there's got to be more. The killer they have in custody called them to admit to the murder, then just sat in his study, waiting. That's too easy. There's got to be something.

I'm starting in on a headache when Lady Dee sets a steaming cup of tea in front of me.

"You're shaking like a leaf, dear," she says as she sits, reaching over to grab my hands in hers.

"It's…" I huff a humorless laugh. "It's been a week."

"I'm surprised you opened up at all. Once I heard, I thought you'd be closed until Monday at least."

I shrug, hopeless. "I thought…distraction."

She raises a thin eyebrow. "Maybe some time off would help more?"

"You're probably right." I bring the cup to my lips and take a deep inhale. She'd picked a morning blend: jasmine, marigold, orange, and lemongrass. It's bright, refreshing me as I sip. Lady Dee is right, I probably need to take a break, but I can't just close my shop for three days. I have orders due, ingredients I need to use. There's a shipment of flowers coming in that I need to hang and dry, and a cannister of cleansing water for my tools that's about to expire.

Lady Dee looks at me over her own cup. "I know you're not going to rest. I can see your mind working from here. What is it?"

I rest my head heavily on one hand. "Elliot was good. Who would want him dead?"

She brings her cup to her lips and takes a long sip before saying, "People always have something to hide."

My attention drifts to the button in my pocket. Lady Dee has been around, traveled the world. Maybe she'll recognize this symbol. I fish the thing out of my pocket, and set it on the table.

"I found this where he-- at the scene. Have you seen it?"

Her eyes light up as she sets down the tea cup. "What's this?"

"I'm not sure. This symbol," I tap the button with my finger. "I've never seen it before."

My hand is still wrapped up from the burn, but I keep my palm down all the same. I don't want to worry her, especially if this rune is something bad.

She squints at it, adjusts her glasses and leans in, and then she shakes her head. "Could it be necromantic?"

My face screws in confusion. "I don't think so. Mom was super strict on what to avoid when she was teaching me, and that doesn't look at all familiar."

And as far as I know, Elliot wasn't into anything illegal. But then again, everyone has something to hide, I suppose. 

"You know who might know," she says, a conspiratorial glint in her eyes. "That dashing fellow next door."

I flush. "Mr. Engstrom?" He is well put together, dashing as Lady Dee says, but he's also very intimidating. We've shared only a handful of words in the scant few years I've run my shop next to his.

Lady Dee smiles like she's in on a secret. "He's the one. Been around longer than I have. Maybe he could help."

I tither with my gloves. "I wouldn't want to bother him this late."

It's late afternoon, most shops are preparing to close for the night. Surely we'd just be bothering him at this hour.

"Nonsense! I just walked by, he's as dead as a drowned rat, could probably use the company!" As she speaks, Lady Dee pulls me from behind the counter and then gently but firmly steers me out the door.

Whenever I walk by his shop, he's bent over his desk with long, dangerous tools in his gloved hands. The skull that makes up his head doesn't allow for expressions, barely even moves as he talks, so I never know what he's thinking.

His shopfront is the opposite of mine. I try to maintain an open atmosphere with bright colors and smiles, I even installed a purple awning for shade last year. But Mr. Engstrom's front is all black marble and darkened windows.

Mr. Engstrom's shop has a towering spiral of dark brick and mortar up top that immediately caught my eye when I first moved to the city. I'd wanted to be close to it, like a moth to flame, or maybe use it as a landmark to bring customers back. I never see many people coming or going from it, but I do see several regulars once every month. It must be enough to afford the ridiculously high rent, because he's never seemed too stressed about it.

Not that we've had many conversations. Mr. Engstrom isn't cold per say, just rather quiet. Our longest interaction was asking him to repair the locking mechanism in my door, and it proved the most awkward interaction I'd ever been in. I'd invited him for tea afterwards and he refused, like he couldn't return home fast enough. He did an amazing job though, the lock has never faltered since.

The door to his shop is open despite the hour, and Lady Dee brings me inside. "West! I have a visitor for you!"

The shop is empty and dark, and I realize I've never actually set foot in here, only viewed it through the large window pointing towards the street.

I'm greeted by high ceilings and an open balcony to the second floor. The walls are filled with clocks, grandfathers along the floor and chimes on the wall and even more hung all the way up to the open second floor. They start huge at the bottom and get smaller towards the top, like a waterfall of metal and glass. The room is silent, save for the ticking of a single clock, and distant footsteps.

"Miss Duranta, it is very late and--" The door at the back left opens, and Mr. Engstrom appears, holding a lantern aloft in one hand. The round, quarter-sized lights inside his eye sockets flick to Lady Dee, then to me, and back to Lady Dee. The silence is broken by that steady ticking, and I swallow around the lump in my throat. 

I've only ever seen Mr. Engstrom through the front window of the shop, or bent over when hes working. He's tall, his form is lithe, his clothes hold volume as if there's a body underneath. In the low light of his lantern I see a faint flicker all around his head--heat waves, like the air above a fire. Is that the magic keeping him upright? I don't know much about reanimation or necromantic magic, only that most of it has been banned, but this makes me want to research it. I want to know how he works.

He must have been preparing to retire for the night. His waistcoat is gone, and the shirt underneath has been rolled up to the elbows, the first few buttons undone casually. His clothes sit above his frame, as if there were flesh and blood underneath. It gives the appearance that his sleeves are floating, and I can't look away.

Lady Dee speaks up. "This lovely young lady is your neighbor."

Mr. Engstrom turns his attention to me, and I straighten my back. "I'm well aware," he says.

Lady Dee scoffs. "And she needs your help!"

The lights in his eyes move in a circle, like he's rolling them. "Could this not wait until morning?" 

"Emergencies don't wait!" she fires back.

They bicker a bit more, and it's strange. I expected an echo to his voice, but there's none. I've spoken to living armor at the museum, their voices reverberating with a tinny flatness that accentuates their polite upbringing, but his doesn't. It's just deep, rich. However subtle, there's emotion there, inflection. If I closed my eyes, I could imagine I'm talking to a man.

But I wouldn't want to close my eyes, because he is fascinating up close. The two of them seem to come to some conclusion while I was lost in thought, because Lady Dee pats me on the back and says, "Go on, dear," as Mr. Engstrom steps back to his countertop at the back of the store.

He sets the lantern on the countertop with a heavy thud, leaning on one arm, the other planted on his hip. "Well, Ms. Breban?"

Lady Dee scoffs. "Don't be rude, West."

I know Lady Dee means well, but she's been trying to set me up with potential suitors since I moved here. Told me that I had no business being on my own for my whole life. So she had made it her life's mission to find me a partner. Maybe she'd picked up on my small, miniscule fascination for Mr. Engstrom, but her encouragement and obliviousness to his regard for me aren't helping me calm down.

I walk up to the counter, fumbling around in my pocket for the button. Setting it on the counter, I crush the urge to step back and instead let my arms fall to my sides.

Mr. Engstrom tips the lantern forward, illuminating the button a fiery red and orange. His other hand comes up to rub his chin, and he hums thoughtfully.

Lady Dee mentioned that Mr. Engstrom is old, but she never said how old. Lady Dee appears to be in her seventies at least, but I've never asked Mr. Engstrom his age. It seemed rude, especially over smalltalk while he was doing me a favor.

"Well?" Lady Dee says to my right, nearly scaring the daylights out of me. "Anything good?"

Another long moment passes, my face tilted towards the mysterious button, until Mr. Engstrom tilts his head towards me. I mirror the movement, our faces very close, and he starts, standing up straight.

"Where did you find this?"

I twist my fingers in my hands. Will he go to the police if I say--

Lady Dee comes to my rescue. "She nabbed it off the street, what's it matter?" 

He looks between us, unconvinced as he folds his arms over his chest. "That hardly constitutes an emergency."

Lady Dee groans. "Do you know what it is or not?"

He hums, one hand coming to his chin again, before aiming his gaze back to me. "Might I borrow this for the evening?" he asks, straightening his shirt.

I pause, unsure. "Oh, uh, of course. Is everything…?"

"Quite alright, Ms. Breban."

"Call her Lucy," Lady Dee slaps me on the back a little too hard, making me huff out my breath.

Mr. Engstrom turns his attention to me. The lights, shutter for a quick moment before reigniting, like he just blinked. And he's awaiting my approval, so I nod once, embarrassment warning my cheeks and forcing me to look down at the floor. I doubt a handful of sentences constitutes knowing me familiarly enough, but if I press the issue we'll be here all night. I'd hate to keep him up, I've already put him out enough as it is.

"Very well," he says, picking up the button and pocketing it. "Once you're closed up tomorrow evening, come by."

***

The customers are full of gossip, nowhere to go but the closest shop after the police department cleaned up Elliot's shop. It was awful--cars everywhere, dozens of officers coming and going. A few stopped into my shop and looked around, and I'd been terrified that they'd start questioning why they found my fingerprints at the scene. But the worst of it came from the customers, gossipping amongst themselves.

"Who lived there?"

"What happened?"

"I heard it was a murder."

"Not a murder you dolt! A suicide!"

"Suicide?! How could anyone do such a thing? It's beyond me."

Sometimes they ask my opinion, but then quickly talk over me in favor of conspiratorial whispers and judgemental stares. It's not answers they want, it's gossip. So I let it flow over me, centering myself in my work and the best way to serve my customers. There's orders piling up, so I begin to work through those as the day ebbs around me.

The space is loud, full, and normally I like it, it's easy to fall into and block out the rest of the world. But not when I'm trying to think.

What could that symbol have been? Did Mr. Engstrom recognize it? He hasn't contacted me today, but I'm still planning on visiting his shop tonight.

The end of the day can't come soon enough, as I lock up the front door and rush over to Mr. Engstrom's shop. I'm surprised to feel that the door is unlocked, expecting to have to wait outside for more direction. There's usually magic surrounding this door, like my own. Magic to keep out thieves. But right now there's none.

It's dark inside. I thought the windows had been tinted but no, he's dimmed the lights. I hadn't gotten a good look at the shop last night, it was hard to see in the darkness. But now I see everything is in black marble, with clocks along the walls and a large pendulum mounted stationary on the wall. 

Mr. Engstrom is bent over his bench, like usual. He's looking at something small that I can't see from the other side of the room, he hadn't even acknowledged my presence. The only sound is my breathing and the ticking of a clock that I can't see, and then my boots as I pad up to him. I clear my throat, and he doesn't budge.

"Um, Mr. Engstrom--"

"Please, call me Weston."

"...Weston." I like saying that. I like that we can be friends instead of just neighbors.

Walking up to the countertop, into view comes a small piece, barely the size of a coin. There's even smaller pieces laying against the black table top that're barely bigger than my fingernail, and he's working with tools that are the width of a needle. Weston doesn't seem to have any magnifying glasses on--then again, why would he need them?--and the light is so low I have to squint until my eyes adjust. "What're you working on, if I may ask?"

He stares at me for a long moment, the candles behind his eyes flickering like he's considering something. Then he puts his head down back to his work. "If you must know, it's a time-piece from the early 16th century. Priceless family heirloom and they couldn't be bothered to keep it clean."

His tone is clipped, he doesn't bother looking up at me again. I shuffle my feet, the sound grating against the peace and quiet. "I can come back later if--"

His head snaps up. "No, no, it's--" he sits up, running a gloved hand over his face. "I'm sorry, Ms. Breban, it's been a very frustrating day."

"Lucy."

"Pardon?"

"My name is Lucy."

His head lifts and he focuses his gaze on me. "Lucy," he says slowly, and a shiver runs up my spine. "That silver piece you gave me was quite the find."

Silver piece. "It's…not a button?"

He shakes his head, "It's an ancient piece of currency. Come with me," and stands lifts the divider in the table. But instead of moving towards the stairs at the front of the shop, he leads me further back, into the wares. There's an adequate amount of light back here, and it's needed. Stacks and stacks of boxes line the walls, some two or three deep, marking a jagged path that we take to the back of the shop. Some are open and filled with carefully organized papers, others still filled with smaller boxes and labels with script so small I can't read it. There's a lot here, but it's organized. Like my shop, it seems. 

We go further back than I thought the building stretched, when Weston stops. There's a ladder, leading directly upwards

"I wasn't sure at first," he says as he starts climbing. "But I've seen this symbol before."

The attic, like the back of the shop, is crowded with boxes and various objects. But unlike the back of the shop, there's no organization here. As if everything had been thrown here and forgotten, I wouldn't know where to even begin. There's trinkets, and clocks, and I see the glint of armor in the back corner. There's fabric so faded with time that I can't begin to parse out what it even is, and some items that seem almost brand new in comparison.

And over everything, old and new, is a layer of dust that makes my nose itch. 

There's a small path in the floor that winds to the back, and I see a book shelf along the back wall. It's where he leads me to, pulling a book down from a high shelf. Thick and faded, it's a tome at least two inches thick, but through the dust I can see the chaotic symbol on the cover.

"I knew I'd seen it somewhere before," Weston says, opening to a depression between the pages, revealing my silver piece in the margins. "Spent all night looking for it."

"You didn't lose sleep over me, I hope," I say, leaning over his shoulder to look. This is exciting, I feel like a detective. Not the ones I dealt with last week, but ones who solve mysteries. It's also easier being around him without watchful, expectant eyes on us. My heart thumps in my chest as I rest a hand on his arm.

Weston starts at the contact, and I instantly feel bad for leaning into his personal space. "This symbol is old. Very old."

"Older than you?"

He huffs a breath of amusement, the first I've heard. "Not quite."

He flips through pages so thin I can see the print on the opposite side, looking for something specific. The print is too small for me to skim, and the blocks of text with carefully detailed scientific diagrams make me think it's a reference text of some sort.

Weston continues flipping, until he gets to a page with the same symbol as the silver piece, surrounded by others I recognize from the crime scene. There's a small block of text on the opposite page that I can't read in the dark.

"At the time, they were called Messengers of the Enlightened." He reads from the small block of text, "A small underground following of the Enlightened One, they attempt to bring her into this plane and usher in a new era."

I frown. "Sounds like a cult."

"How so?"

"Elliot's…body," I shudder at the memory. "He was covered in these." I point to the symbols on the following page. They're not quite runes, but also not quite sigils. Something in between, as if someone had been experimenting. Even in this non-magical book they feel…corrupted. I lean into Weston, trying to get a better look as I flip to the next page.

"Where did you say this book was from?"

"I took it from a library in the 3rd Century." Well there go my worries about Weston calling the police.

"So this information could be outdated?"

"Oh it certainly is," he clicks the book shut. "You said your friend owned a shop? He was social and had friends?"

I nod.

"Then this is likely much bigger than a handful of members now. Indoctrinating the general public instead of remaining underground as they were likely means they've grown significantly." He pauses for a moment, then looks to me. "Was there anything else at the scene that looked like this sigil?"

I chew on my lower lip, hopeless. "I didn't really get a good look. I only saw the button--silver piece, because it caught the light. But…" I trail off, thinking. "The police hadn't done much to the scene. When I got there, they were driving off with the murderer, and only wanted me to confirm it was them."

The police there didn't seem particularly interested in investigating, either. Mostly they stood around answering press questions. They definitely could have missed something. 

I whirl on Weston, "We have to go back."

He blinks at me several times, the lights in his eyes shuttering. "Back? Back where?"

"The crime scene!"

"I don't think that's--"

"Listen! The police must have missed something, looked over a detail that we can find!"

Weston snaps the book against his palm. "That is out of the question."

I throw my hand in the air. "Then I'll go by myself!"

Weston points a finger at me. "I was willing to overlook you tampering with evidence. But this is too dangerous."

"But if there's something there that could help--"

He throws his hands out, and his eyes, for the briefest moment, flash red. "No!"

I flinch at his shout, so sudden and abrasive it's like opening a window. To think he could get so angry over me, basically a stranger.

Weston pauses, looking at me up and down, and then rights himself, turning his head away and pinching the bridge of his nose. "I apologize, I shouldn't have shouted."

I look down at the coin in my hands, a frown puckering my brow. It would be stupid to leave this alone, but the police aren't going to do anything about it. I flip the coin in my hands and sigh. "I suppose I should take this information to the police…"

Weston places the book back on the shelf, and crosses his arms. "And why is that an issue?"

Mirroring him, I fold my arms, grabbing each side with my hands. "They said it was too much work, it was above their paygrade. They'd seen another like this before but--"

"They discussed the case with you?"

I flush. "Not exactly…I kind of…listened in. But they didn't care! Not about Elliot, or his death, or even his sweet dog and--"

Tears build in my eyes again, and I furiously wipe them away. I'm not sad, I'm angry! This isn't fair to Elliot, to be tossed into another cold case file! Something needs to be done! Angrily, I stomp on an open patch of the floor, and dust springs up like a water spout, flying into the air, and then straight into my face. I'm thrown into a coughing fit that has me keeled over, and Weston's hand is on my back, guiding me to an equally dusty lounge chair. Sitting on it kicks up more dust, so I hold my breath until it settles. He sits next to me, hands falling to his lap as I try to recall how to breathe correctly.

"What kind of dog?" he asks.

I huff, very mature, and stare at a spot on the ground. "What do you care?"

He rests his elbows on his knees, lacing his fingers together. He says quietly, "I love dogs. Used to breed them for a line of monarchs in the Alps."

His tone is so sincere, like he's never told anyone that before, a secret just between the two of us. I crumble a little. "Paul. A golden retriever, barely a year old. And they just threw him in the pound."

I swipe at my tears again, and Weston offers me a handkerchief. It's a small square of silk, and I wonder why he has it if he can't cry.

"That's a shame. Young dog like that, someone is bound to pick him up eventually, though."

I only shrug my shoulders and sniff away more tears. They wouldn't take as good care of him as Elliot. I would've taken him in if I'd had the space, or the time. But I have neither, so poor Paul is left up to chance.

We sit as my tears dry, and I hand him back the silk handkerchief, that he tucks away in his waistcoat. Weston looks down at his hands, and clears his throat. "Well, if you're not going to the police, then I'm coming with you."

Chapter 3 >>

[papus-clown-enclosure]

.

Suddenly going thru it at basically 2am, my world is supposedly ending, and ofc its another personal crisis of i need to get my shit together, in a loser, and that im always running out of time and i will never vatch up to being a regular funtioning being and, also that im. Dumb as shit so like why am i pursuing a degree if nothing will ever stick bc it hasnt so far.

But like i was so at peace with being the stupidest person out here, i was vibing, literlly what happens happens type of thing going on, somehow knowing i will pass these classes despite being dumber than a brick. Why now must i feel so stressed out. Like wtf brain. This weekend was supposed to be me catching up. And finally watching those recorded lectures for art history which i did not do. Did i at least do ny notes for intro to bio...yes. but not the reading. Now i have to force myself to reread a chapter to understand ch 6 and 7. Bc hw for ch 7 is due tonight.

[bllsbailey]

Biden DNC Speech Is a Historic Trainwreck - With a Slurring, Stumbling, Screaming Speech Full of Lies

Joe Biden was, on some level, wrapping up his political career during his DNC speech on Monday night. He had expected to give the keynote address on Thursday. That was before the coup, when he was shoved aside and replaced by Kamala Harris as the nominee. So, you can imagine he's not a happy camper when it comes to that. 

It was perhaps appropriate that the day was a mess with protesters breaching the security fence, attacking the police, and getting arrested. Then, Biden made weird comments about former President Donald Trump, claiming his "stability" was still a question. 

— Ryan Fournier (@RyanAFournier) August 19, 2024

Um, Joe? It isn't Trump whose stability is in question — it was and is you. He can't even do a pre-speech comment without saying something bizarre. 

READ MORE:  WATCH: Joe Biden's Democratic National Convention Pre-Speech Walkthrough Did Not Go Well

Now Democrats were saying they "love" him and how "consequential" he is. This is the DNC Chair Jaime Harrison. 

So consequential they had to shove him aside to try to help their chances and guard against losing the election. And even on the night that was supposed to be about Joe Biden, they spent most of their time talking about Donald Trump and lying their heads off about him. He was completely living rent-free in their heads. 

It also sounded like the turnout was lacking — there were many empty seats reportedly at 9;20 p.m. So it didn't sound like the audience thought Biden was "consequential." 

How the Democrats really felt is revealed in the actions they took. They gave Biden the keynote on Monday, making it for 10:50 p.m. Eastern, which makes it seem like they didn't want people to really hear it. It's also way past Biden's regular bed time, so not an ideal time for him. It sounds like they were trying to bury it in case he said anything embarrassing. 

Jill Biden Leads in to Joe Biden's Farewell Speech With a Re-endorsement of Kamala Harris

They were, of course, late. Jill preceded Joe, making cringeworthy comments about him. But this must be pretty humiliating. She's a horrible speaker for a teacher. Interestingly, she didn't introduce Joe; Ashley did, telling a story about hugging him when she was eight years old on her birthday. She called him a "girl dad." She said he was the "love of our lives and the life of our loves." She claimed he was her "best friend." 

Finally came Joe, forty minutes late. "That was my daughter," he said, as though people didn't know. He claimed he loves Jill more than she loves him, which is a pretty sad thing to say. 

He asked the crowd if they were ready to vote for Harris and Walz. He, of course, spoke about the Jan. 6 riot. He claimed "Democracy must be preserved" even as they circumvented the will of the voters in the coup to push him aside. He raised the Charlottesville lie yet again about very fine people, he said with the admonition of his dead son. And it was a complete lie that never happened. Perhaps it's fitting that he closes out his career with a lie. 

He said he also ran to rebuild the middle class. He's crushed the middle class with inflation and the crisis at the border. As he said that, I heard yelling in the background, it was probably protesters. He lied, claiming he'd created 60 million new jobs. 

He acknowledged that Kamala Harris cast the tie-breaking vote for the Inflation Reduction Act (which helped make inflation worse). Yet he claimed he was saving Americans money. He had a brain break right in the middle there, slurring badly as his speech continued. It was far too long for him. He was having trouble just talking and tripping all over his teleprompter. 

He lied about him and Kamala bringing down the murder rate and said it would keep coming down if they "put a prosecutor" in the office rather than a "convicted felon." 

Biden then lied about the border, blaming Trump when Biden was responsible for the border failures because he undid all the security from the first day he came in. 

Biden started screaming and lying about Trump, claiming he said "suckers and losers" about the military — another lie that has been thoroughly debunked, just like Charlottesville, yet he keeps saying it. 

He lied about Trump refusing to accept the election results and promising a "bloodbath" if he lost. 

It was an incredibly bad speech. It could have been about his legacy, such as it is. Instead, it became an angry, ranting speech full of lies and unhappiness. Every lie he regularly tells about Trump, he threw in here. He didn't seem to understand that this is it. It was as though he never scaled his acceptance speech back. 

Now he's off to California for vacation for a week. So much for campaigning for Kamala Harris. 

[todayisafridaynight]

FIRST EP OF TSUMA CLEARED... GODDDDDDDDDDDDD WHY IS KEISUKE SO CUTE HE'S GOT ME SQUEALING THROWING A FIT KICKING MY FEET CLAWING AT MY FACE TEARING MY HAIR OUT RIPPING MY SHIRT OFF [<- CUTENESS AGGRESSION] [NOT EVEN EXAGGERATING I DID ALL THAT] [ALSO REGULAR AGGRESSION. CAN YOU STOP SAYING INSANE SHIT IN PUBLIC]

The music is so lovely too... and the direction and set dressing and Overall Production... chef's kiss... ALSO THE LITTLE GIRL WHO PLAYS SHIRAISHI IS SO TALENTED WHAT THE HELL WAS ANY OF THAT... Tsutsumi is amazing though for real, he makes Keisuke seem so much older post-timeskip and it's wonderful to see his old self starting to show again EVEN IF HE IS. BEING A DUMBASS. Huge fan of Tsutsumi playing depressed motherfuckers... I LOVE Takae though... I understand why he was so obsessed with her I get it...

See this is why I can't be too hard on Akira I'm a grown man acting the same way about Tsutsumi😭😭😭I'M GLAD YOU LIKED FIRST EP... THIS IS A RELIEF... Yoshizawa is a nice young man don't worry about him <3

ALSO THRILLED TO HEAR YOU SEEMED TO ENJOY THE MOVIES TOOOOOO ACAB except the team and Ogata nobody does terror|sm like you king... I wish more Tsutsumis could escape prison and/or death But Fair Enough... Oh and this is what Ogata's letter says if you were curious, it's manga only:

Inoue, You weren't crazy at all, in my eyes. You'll make a fine SP. An SP is a police officer in the Metropolitan Police Department Public Security Bureau assigned as a full-time bodyguard to people who don't deserve protection. That job description assumes they are, without exception, willing to throw their life away in a crisis if it means acting as a shield for those people. That's what it means to guard another's life.

ALSO at one point Tsutsumi was at a panel for something else and a couple members of the audience were being unruly and trying to get on-stage to get to his female co-star, but he and another co-star held them off... I think he actually fell off the stage in doing so but he was fine and he joked that SP would start filming that day... I love himmmmmmm

NO THAT'S WHAT I MEAAAAAN HE'S SOOOOOO CUTE IT DROVE ME INSANE I LOVE HIM SO MUCH (;´༎ຶД༎ຶ`)(;´༎ຶД༎ຶ`)(;´༎ຶД༎ຶ`)(;´༎ຶД༎ຶ`) 'tsuma' was the first tsutsumi show i watched and the impact it left on my brain was monumental... i loooove keisuke so much i cant stress that... SO IM GLAD YOU WATCHED THE FIRST EP IM GLAD YOU GET TO SEE WHAT I MEAN !!!!!!!! CUTEST OLD MAN EVER I PROMISE !!!!!!!

nono maida is SO good considering her age, i was so impressed with her performance throughout the show... AND YEAH TAKAE IS AMAZING she really is an epic woman, no wonder keisuke and mai cant let her go (´▽`ʃ♡ƪ) unfortunately 👁️👁️;;

OH BUT YEAH THE SHOW'S SO CUTE SO FAR I JUST FINISHED THE SECOND EPISODE !!!! tachibana looking right RIDICULOUS but its cute (❁´◡`❁)

AND THANK YOU FOR SHARING THE LETTER MAN so real.... i love that..... chaotic good kind of behavior i fucks with him.... he's valid in my opinion for his methods.... nishijima was lame anyway...

poor tsutsumi at that panel tho im glad he protected his co-star and im glad he was able to make light of the situation- im mortified for him but id also be totally mortified if i was one of those rowdy people like please be civil hes a guy just like any other guy (;´༎ຶД༎ຶ`)

[shshshshshowrunner]

14, 18, 29, 32, 38, 4, 20, 23, 24, 33

oh went really went for the jugular here friend.

14- biggest turns offs

it's more of a vibe than any particular thing. i can't pinpoint what happened most of the time but sometimes i will just entirely shut down and start spiraling. so i guess sometimes my brain just does the Big No and makes me smack my head into a wall

18- most traumatic experience

probably when i lost Rion and Steri. I was fully feeling then, i wasn't numb like i was when i was created. Rion and Steri, they were both cursed by a witch to be deer, and I managed to uncurse Rion most of the way. Most. he ended up being murdered by townsfolk in front of me. this was before i learned necromancy, and actually what drove me to do so. promised myself i'd never be caught off guard and lose a friend because of a skill issue ever again. steri, he... he ran off into the woods. i was driven away. i never did find him.

29- reason i've lied to a friend

wouldn't you like to know *xigbar dying in kh2.gif*

32- what words upset me the most

i super don't like when people insult me but for whatever reason it sets me on f i r e when people insult me as a (ex)wife or a mother. like bitch hello. i'm gonna insult you as a breather. the fuck do you mean you think i was a bad wife i was the best wife now shut your bitch ass mouth before i punch your teeth so far down your throat the tooth fairy's gonna need to do a colonoscopy. not fucking budging on this i was the best wife it just so happens that he was an atrocious husband. anyone would have ran, and sooner. cunt ass bitch. perish.

38- my childhood career choice

"childhood" "choice" lmao

4- do you drink

swamp sauce babie when i am stressed and crisis-ing or when xigbar becomes silly with it involved.

20- what i hate most about myself

i can't stop trying to help people and it never works and they never want it and i make everything fucking worse and i need to s t o p but i can't fucking stop because i was made to do this i can barely- if- if i don't try to help i feel like tearing my skin from my face its- literally not to quote supernatural here but the very damned touch of me corrupts i fuck everything up always.

23- my relationship with my siblings

i think about this. see, i don't have siblings, or even siblings in law. unless you count... um. gods my family tree is fucked up. if you squint and ignore the turning in your stomach, paph and arme are my half siblings. and now im trying to do math for... but no, i won't, anyway things are okay with my kids i think

24- my relationship with my parents

i killed my husband actually and i intend to do it again (date night!) and i've never seen aphrodite in the flesh after the very first time. xigdad though we watch x files on the regular it's great

33- what words make me feel best about myself

when people i care about engage with me in shared interests without it feeling like they are tolerating me or humoring me. the narrator teared up with me about destiel over lunch that was pretty great. as for specific words i like 'doll' but only coming from xigbar anyone else can die by my blade. i like 'friend' also and 'bestie' and that can come from anyone im kh-close with (have talked twice). 'bestie' can also be used by other fans of supernatural as is customary. uhm i also like being reassured that im not colossally fucking up at every turn so when people go 'yes' or 'great' or 'good job' in genuine ways it's like 'oh thank the gods i didn't just throw my whole life down the drain by fumbling that interaction'

[littlewalken]

Jan 29

Just when you think you're done washing ponies...

The store with the Re-Animator t-shirt still has only microscopic and circus tent. If you aren't filling them out circus tent sized shirts really only work for Cure shirts because true fans know the only size anything comes in is 'Robert'.

Part of my thing is making myself wait until at least the sun comes up before I get to washing and beheading the MLPs. Before the time change I was up at a more reasonable hour but like pets my brain doesn't get that it's not wake up time according tot he clock.

I'm glad I kept looking for a movie I just watched because it was missing a scene I remembered, and apparently a couple I didn't, in the one version I have which I suppose had been cut for commercials.

It looks like I'm working on filling the hole in my soul with t-shirts but they didn't have Smudge the cat in a size I can fit.

Still cheaper than therapy and faster than the waiting list I'm still on. There's only so much to go around, the people in crisis get served first, and now the rest of us who aren't depressed enough are getting bumped down the list for kids who think it's trendy to change genders and identities and want notes to get away with attention seeking asshole behavior at school.

Yeah, I have been told to my face I'm not depressed enough. I've also been told I'm not in pain enough, can't have autism because the guy didn't understand how girl autism works, and now everything wrong with me is because I'm fat. I'm under 200 pounds, I do have some extra weight for my size I would like to reduce, but that doesn't cause the neurological issues I have. So it's also back to square one, if I'm even on the board, for just having a regular doctor.

For you kids on my Tumblr lawn this is square one