#too much effort for not enough payoff

[etherfabric]

Compliments from Spirit - What are you doing right?

Choose a pile by which picture you resonate with the most.

If your mind is too busy to clearly decide, take a few deep breaths, and use the finger of your non-dominant hand to hover over the images. One will give off the most subtle yet prominent signals, like tingles, a magnetic pull, or temperature. This is your pile. Multiples are also possible.

You are the ultimate authority over your life. I merely provide my perspective. Sometimes the Universe lines you up with something that doesn't resonate with your truth, so you have contrast to find out what does. Never give away your power.

Pile 1

4 of Swords, 4 of Cups, The Magician

Spirit is complimenting you on your restraint and how well you center yourself. You learned your lessons around excessive, fear-fueled activity, how it wears you down without any payoff, and you take those lessons to heart. Your body's need to rest has become your wise friend and guide to consider, instead of your mortal enemy to defeat. You thank your emotions for telling you where you strayed from your authentic path, you honor the little pains and stings along the way just as much as the pleasant surprises. It's like in an airplane, where in an emergency, the little lights left and right on the ground lead you to the nearest exit back to safety when you can't see otherwise. Your symptoms are your loyal companions you are listening to with patience and intent. You are not rushing yourself anymore to an unobtainable future, you are honoring what you already have and don't fall for FOMO.

What is truly yours won't want you to strain and hurt yourself. What is truly yours loves you and has no problem waiting for you.

This approach gives you authentic, reliable bouts of energy you can channel towards what is truly important to you. It's marvelous how little effort compared to the past now yields these beautiful results that seemed so far out of your reach. You feel empowered and have found a new sense of patience with yourself and the Universe at large. You recognize your own struggles in others, and know that their limits are not meant as a personal insult. They are on their own path to their true calling just as you are, and Spirit can see the compassion you have for them. Continue seeing the big picture and your part in it. Time is on your side. The Universe likes your new, slow, conscious approach, and is happy that you have found the wisdom in your limits; that they were your private teachers all along.

Pile 2

Strength, 2 of Wands, The World

You have found a whole new level of self love. Things that used to make you cringe are seen in a completely different light - you see your good intentions, and that most of the times, it is other people's opinions you internalized that you feel when expressing yourself. And even if you come to your own conclusion on how you want to change certain aspects - you don't use these discoveries as a stick to beat you with anymore. You have developed a profound capacity for self compassion. You see your desperate needs no one felt responsible for in the past, how hard you had to try because nothing was given freely where you come from. Okay, yeah, you exposed things you wouldn't expose in the same context today. But now you can thank yourself for it, because you see how it was the only option back then with what you had and knew. And it was good enough to eventually get you here.

You were desperate to find connection, friends, someone who cares for you. You offered all these things so they could pick and choose where to connect to you. You are a generous, love-oriented being, always have been. The judgements others places on your past and present behaviors come from a limited, competitive point of view you can no longer hold without feeling the unnecessary pain of it. It just feels disingenuous towards yourself. You know too much about where you come from and who you are because of it, what drives you, what you are looking for in life, to mindlessly punish yourself with these false accusations.

You send the shame back to where it came from, and are free to give yourself the love you crave and deserve.

You dared to look inwards, despite all the shame. You thought you would find a hideous monster, a waste of every resource ever coming their way - and found a being of light. Capable of so much goodness to give, the only sensible conclusion is to provide them with everything they need, and foster relationships with only likeminded supporters. I mean, it's a true miracle. In the past there was really no one around who took you as part of themselves, who considered your best interests just as important as theirs - and now look where you are! Who you are with! How peaceful and exciting, and liveable this life has become. Spirit couldn't be prouder. So much more is waiting for you. The hard part is definitely over.

Pile 3

10 of Cups, The Empress, 3 of Wands

Spirit compliments you on your willingness to receive. Gone are the days of guilt tripping yourself over morsels. Now you feast, daily. This routine allows you to live in a perpetual cycle of abundance. You feel good, because you go after what you know you deserve. And you go after what you deserve, because you know it makes you feel good. You no longer hold yourself up with questions whether to go after comfy OR practical - you know which way you can get both. And most important of all: You stopped making yourself smaller than you actually are supposed to be. All your needs and wants come from a sacred place, and you have seen it for yourself.

This brings great relief to your interpersonal relationships. Your clean conscience translates into generosity and letting miniscule hiccups slide with ease. Remember how tiny mistakes used to trip you up for days on end? Now you don't even need seconds to process them as the background noise they always wanted to be. You know what truly matters and don't let yourself get confused by smoke screens. People either mean it, or they can fuck right off. Those who mean it bask in your warmth, and those who don't just aren't getting invited to the party that is your life now. And boy, do you know how to host.

The people around you feel like on a constant vacation with you. Comfort and fun are sacred priorities, and everybody is important.

They can contribute their perspective in an environment of trust and good faith. Your spontaneity is met with keen support, and fate plays just the right song to elevate the atmosphere even further. Continue getting a full plate everyday, there will always be more where that came from. As long as you don't let your impostor syndrome get the better of you, I don't see an end to this joyride for quite some time.

Pile 4

The Fool, Queen of Wands, Seven of Cups, The Hanged Man

Spirit is complimenting you on your masterful ability to adapt. Like a surfer, you read the currents of life flowing in and around you with expertise and diligence. You know some days the ocean won't bring you anything exciting, and muddy waters might not be the best to dive through, but you got time and can wait. You know the mud holds important nutrients that need to find their way in their own time. Just like when your head is full of random thoughts you can't seem to channel into anything useful - you know how to embrace it, rather than fight against it and stir up the water even further.

Now you have the confidence to know when to do nothing at all. And suddenly, the mud settles back at the ground, and you are free to dive right in. The most subtle changes can't slip past your perception, and you know which waves you can use to your advantage, and which ones would just drag you down without any mercy. Your confidence in your skills lets you marvel at the forces from a safe distance rather than cower in paralyzing fear.

What used to feel like cruel randomness, now reveals itself as divine orchestration. And all you had to change was your perspective.

Even your darkest times of despair have finally told you their secret: They are the soil you are growing on. The fallen leaves of past hopes and dreams are the soil for what is real now. The destruction of the past turned out to be a vital step in the recipe. Like Rumi said, the wound is where the light enters you. Now, when you are faced with a so-called dark aspect of life, you are alread curious how and when the benefit of it will come into your reality. It doesn't erase the pain, but you don't even want that anymore. It tells a story that makes you glad to be alive, rather than feeling like a victim to your own birth. It makes you want to see how it will turn out, rahter than checking out prematurely. What a marvelous, marvelous development. Spirit is so glad you are still here.

[level2janitor]

tactiquest structure

so i've posted a lot about tactiquest's classes and monsters and everything on here but i haven't really talked about the non-combat subsystems much yet and i wanted to go into detail about them, bc tactiquest has very different goals from most heroic fantasy systems.

tracking inventory, travel time, worrying about actually running out of your adventuring budget, are things a lot of big-damn-heroes fantasy systems throw out because they're just paperwork that gets in the way of your cool fights. that's not the case in Tactiquest! these systems are so core to the experience that removing them will make a lot of classes unusable. the game is built around them.

travel & exploration

tactiquest explicitly assumes you're running an open-sandbox hexcrawl and is designed to support that, including the fact the game is designed around random encounters. this is the sort of thing D&D 3e expected you to do, but people ditched random encounters because they thought they were boring and tedious. so classes balanced around that attrition of resources ended up with a huge spike in power other classes couldn't match.

the boring-and-tedious problem is mostly addressed by trying to make combat really good and resolve really fast. if i fucked that up the whole thing falls apart, but so far people are liking it

the second thing that helps with random encounters is your resources don't fully restore immediately at the end of each day like they do in 3e. resting is less effective in the wilderness and resources expended are a tomorrow problem, not just a today problem. so you don't have to have 3+ fights every single day just to maintain parity - 0-2 fights per day still adds up to difficult resource management.

because the game has such a focus on it, you can have classes like the ranger actually be good at travel and exploration instead of just giving them vaguely-naturey combat abilities.

economy

in most D&D-likes, even usually OSR ones, you accrue so much gold. just as a side effect of adventuring. to the point money no longer actually matters because you can throw piles of it at any problem. this is bad. it's a system that defeats its own purpose; there are no interesting choices involving money when you have so much the only real expense is like, 50,000-gold-piece magic items.

i don't just want players to care about money, i want them to worry about money, like a normal person. you're not batman who's a billionaire as a side hobby, you're spiderman who has to deliver pizzas in between superhero work because he's got bills to pay like everyone else. so a whole lot of effort has been put into actually designing prices and treasure amounts around this dynamic.

i also hate how games will usually go "oh adventuring gives you 900,000 gold for existing but a normal person's living wage is 2 gold a month". i don't want to be fantasy jeff bezos, thanks

inventory

this is something i just lifted from OSR games outright. you can carry ten things (and tiny things don't take up an item slot). that's the whole rule.

tracking inventory can add a lot of interesting decisions to a game and adds a new lever for abilities from classes and magic items. having a character play the merchant class which gets a bunch of extra inventory slots feels really impactful. finding a bag of holding that doubles your carry capacity feels so good when you actually have to watch your inventory.

supply

the only thing i felt was really unenjoyable when running games with strict inventory limits was tracking rations for each character that you eat every night; it felt too much like busywork with not enough payoff. so in Tactiquest rations are abstracted into a single Supply stat that's tied to the party rather than any individual character.

you can only restock Supply in towns, and it drops by 1 each time you rest. you can sleep without resting and this won't cost supply, but you won't regain any HP or other resources. this gives you the impactful decision-making of tracking rations without the annoyance of "okay it's been a day of travel, everyone make sure you dock a ration from your sheet" like twice per session

Supply is one of the things that slowly drains your funds and gives you a reason to keep seeking out treasure, tying back into the economy. it also gives merchants and rangers some extra mechanical levers for their class abilities to pull on.

[yelena-bellova]

Heartfirst: A Ted Lasso Story - Chapter Eighteen

Chapter Eighteen: Free

Plot: The morning after Y/n and Jamie’s heartbreaking talk, an unexpected savior shows up on Y/n’s door, leaving her at a crossroads.

Word Count: 6.8k

Warnings: f!reader, language, mention of child neglect/abuse, mention of sex

A/N: THIS IS IT. THIS IS NOT A DRILL. THIS IS THE CHAPTER. I’m so excited for you guys to read this one and have all your questions answered. I hope the payoff is as sweet as you’ve been expecting. Y’all have been so enthusiastic over the last few chapters, it really makes me smile. Enjoy!! ❤️💙💛

———————

Heartache could spread through the body just as easily as illness. Y/n’s head was fogged, her limbs hurt and she felt nauseous the second she opened her eyes.

Somehow she managed to call room service and order breakfast, plain toast and coffee, before falling back into bed. The clock read 10AM, she hasn’t slept that long in years. Then again, there wasn’t much sleep had.

The weight of Jamie’s confession weighed in her chest just as heavily as the moment he’d made it. She’d been up till some unholy hour, replaying the whole thing. His words, the quiver in his voice, his lips against her face…it reduced Y/n fits of tears, breaking her over and over.

There was no question as to whether she should skip the match or not. Not only did she have no desire to be around people, but she didn’t want to mess with Jamie’s head any more than she already had. She was worried enough she’d already cost him the game.

A rhythmic knock at her door signaled room service arriving. Y/n trudged across the room and opened the door, expecting to meet the waiter.

Instead, she got Ted, comically lifting the lid off the platter.

“Mornin’ sunshine!”

Y/n sighed, smiling as much as she could, which wasn’t very much.

Ted, however, found himself hilarious. “Room service fella was about to knock right as I was walkin’ by. Thought I’d have some fun with it.”

“Of course,” Y/n gestured to the room, “Come on in.”

Ted set the tray down on the table before turning back to Y/n, who was already moving to the other side of the room. There was a stiffness to her posture, as if she’d allowed a home invader in. Ted was well familiarized with her character, but he hadn’t seen her so reserved since she first started at Richmond.

“So what’s up?” Y/n asked, her tone devoid of any life.

“Oh, I just wanted to check up on you,” Ted shrugged, slipping his hands into his pockets, “Haven’t seen ya in a while.”

“Yeah, things have been busy.”

“I bet,” Ted smiled, “You and Keeley must be kickin’ butt over there. The Dynamic Duo, but with gobs more style.”

Y/n chucked politely, playing with her hands out of nervousness.

Ted waited, watching as Y/n tried to dodge his line of vision. He didn’t expect an explanation to fly out of her mouth, but she was clearly on edge. His chances of waiting her out were decent.

“Well, we’re all glad you’re back,” Ted added, “Owner’s box has been lonely without you, I’ll bet.”

Y/n shut her eyes, it made the lying easier. “Yeah, Ted, I don’t think I can make this one.”

His face didn’t fall an inch, “Oh no. Something wrong?”

“Yeah, I just didn’t get much sleep,” she continued, that part was true. She thought she remembered the clock reading 5AM around the time exhaustion took over.

“Well, I’m sorry to hear that,” Ted played along, “I know the boys miss havin’ you around.”

Y/n slipped around the topic, walking to the window. “They excited for today?”

“Oh, yeah,” he nodded, “Revved up and ready to go.”

“That’s good,” she kicked her foot against the wall and diverted her gaze to the curtains. “How’s, uh…how’s Jamie?”

Ted studied Y/n, taking in her fidgeting hands and the exaggerated effort to her words. As hard as she tried, Y/n wasn’t that good an actress.

“He’s alright,” Ted answered, “Bit off, y’know. Little bit like you.”

With every word exchanged, Y/n could feel Ted unraveling the whole thing. He could see right through her.

“That’s too bad,” she said, her voice wobbling. The tears that she’d fallen asleep with were reawakening.

“Yeah, it is,” Ted agreed, “I sure hope he figures out whatever’s botherin’ him before the game.”

“Mm-hmm,” Y/n hummed, feeling like she couldn’t breathe, “He’s got a lot of people counting on him.”

“Yeah, but that ain’t as big a deal,” Ted took a seat on the edge of Y/n’s bed. “I’m more concerned with him, y’know. Why he’s hurtin’.”

Ted noticed Y/n’s shoulders begin to tremble.

“Why he’s keepin’ whatever it is to himself rather than leanin’ on somebody.”

Y/n wiped her hands over her face, her cheeks wet with guilt. She had finally reached it, her dreaded breaking point.

She turned to Ted, who looked at her as only a father could. He knew.

“You wanna tell me anything goin’ on?”

Crossing the room and sinking down on the mattress next to Ted, Y/n softly sobbed.

“Is it Jamie?” Ted asked.

Y/n bit her lip.

“Is it us?”

She sniffled.

“Whole enchilada?”

Y/n’s trembled as she inhaled, “I’m scared, Ted.”

“Of what?”

“This,” she gestured around them, “Richmond. This whole thing.”

Ted waited for her to explain further.

“I grew up having to fight for every shred of attention,” Y/n continued, “Doing everything I could to get my parents to…care. And no matter what I did, they never loved me. Not like parents are supposed to love their kids. And when I realized that, I just…shut everyone out. In high school, in college…and it worked. I was safe. I didn’t have to worry about getting hurt.”

“And then I…” Y/n paused, the happy memory washing over her, “I met these two women in a bar and they offered me a job. And suddenly, I’m a part of this sport that I never cared about and there’s this…family I never asked for. And it should have made me happy,” she grasped her stomach, “But it scared me, Ted. It fucking terrified me because you were all so kind and welcoming and you just took me in.”

She stopped to take a breath, “And then Jamie just…” Y/n sniffled, “He just…happened. And that was the scariest part because…”

She couldn’t say the words. Just like 12 hours before, she still couldn’t physically force them out of her body. But somehow, even without speaking, the sentiment got across.

“Hey,” Ted slid an arm around Y/n’s shoulders. His dad mode had been activated.

For the first time in a long time, Y/n allowed herself to be held as she weeped.

“It’s okay,” Ted soothed, rubbing a hand over her arm, “You’re okay.”

After hours of crying underneath her sheets, Y/n thought she had nothing left to give. But the comfort of another person’s presence created a whole new wave. She was letting down from years of self-determination to conquer her pain on her own.

“Y’know,” Ted said after a moment, “Openin’ yourself up’s one of the scariest things in the world. Anyone who says otherwise’s never really done much hurting. But it’s worth it.”

“How do you know that?” Y/n whimpered.

“You don’t,” Ted stated, “No way to know what’ll happen before it happens. But if you don’t take the risk of gettin’ hurt, you’ll never end up with anything worth having. Just how life works.”

“But y’know,” he sighed, “Where we work…it’s kinda the exception. The people there’re some of the best I’ve ever known. They don’t let you down.”

Y/n’s tears were slowing in speed, but not intensity.

“Know how our right reverend Mr. Rojas likes to say that football is life?” Ted earned a slight smile from Y/n, “Same goes for AFC Richmond. These people’re gonna stick by you through thick and thin. Once you’re a part of the family, you’re there. Doesn’t matter if you wanna be. It’s up to you whether you let ‘em in..but they’re gonna love you whether you like it or not. It’s a heck of a lot easier to just let ‘em.”

Throughout the years, Y/n had lacked many relationships, but that of a parent was the one she’d longed for the most. She needed someone to help guide her, to lovingly correct her when she was making the biggest mistakes of her life. In the moment she needed it most, Ted fit the role perfectly.

Without any prompting, Y/n slipped her arms around Ted’s neck and hugged him.

Ted returned and received it, he’d been going through it too. As true as ever, helping someone out of their pit stitched a little piece of him back together as well. He wanted Y/n to succeed in everything she did and he believed without a doubt that she could. But he wanted her to be happy, truly happy, more than anything.

“Thank you,” she whispered over his shoulder.

“No thanks needed,” he smiled, “I got your back.”

Y/n let go of him slowly and hesitantly. It was 10:30, the match was less than two hours away. “You need to go.”

“I do,” Ted replied, patting her shoulder before standing up, “You think you’re gonna stop by for a bit now? Cheer us on?”

Grimacing slightly, Y/n ducked her head towards the floor.

“C’mon now,” Ted clicked his tongue, “I thought we just made progress.”

Y/n chuckled and wiped under her eyes.

“Well, I hope you change your mind.”

Ted left Y/n with plenty to mediate on and strolled back into the hall, shutting the door behind him. He could lead her to victory, but he couldn’t hand her the win.

Y/n stayed on the bed’s edge a long while after Ted left, contemplating all he’d said. She was at what was potentially the most important crossroads of her life. Heeding Ted’s advice held the possibility of more heartache, more loss, more feelings of inadequacy. But didn’t her isolation already offer that in spades? Wasn’t she hurting enough on her own? Tearing herself down at every opportunity? How could anything possibly be worse than that?

But she had felt worse, twelve hours ago. Breaking Jamie’s heart after he’d poured his out to her had crushed her. She’d hurt him so deeply in the name of self preservation. Walking away from him was the most difficult thing she’d ever done. The worst part was that it was totally avoidable. If she’d have told him that she loved him too, they’d have been saved so much pain. Jamie wouldn’t have had to endure her rejection, Y/n wouldn’t have lost the most important person in her life. The blame was entirely hers.

It wasn’t just Jamie. Y/n was so tired of keeping Keeley at arm’s length. She craved her weekly tea with Rebecca. She missed problem solving with Higgins. She wanted to laugh with Ted and talk life with Beard and annoy Roy. She wanted to go to movies with Sam and drink with Dani and have lunches with Colin. She wanted to cheer the boys on at games and celebrate with them after.

She wanted to win and lose with all of them.

She wanted to be a part of their family.

But to do so, she had to heal her first one.

Before she knew what she was doing, Y/n grabbed her phone off her nightstand. She scrolled through her contacts, even though she had memorized the number in hopes that would somehow equal a call. She pressed the name and dialed.

It rang once.

Twice.

Three times.

Y/n hadn’t expected them to pick up. It was 4-something AM where they were.

The familiar message played, asking her to leave her name and number.

Finally, the machine beeped.

“Hi…it’s me…” she started, suddenly nervous, “It’s Y/n. I know it’s early there, I don’t even know if you are there but…I needed to do this.”

Y/n drew a quick breath, it was now or never. “You guys really fucked me up. Me and Caylee. I mean, we’re really screwed up because of you. Maybe she’s doing better than me, maybe I’m the only one who’s still not over all of it but…you really messed up. And maybe you know that, maybe you don’t, but it’s the truth. I am…” she paused, “So broken because you two couldn’t love me. No— you know what,” her voice gained strength, “You could have loved me. You didn’t. For whatever reason, you didn’t. I did everything I possibly could to earn your love, and I never got it. And that’s fucked up.”

Her anger hastened her heartbeat, urging Y/n to go on. “And I don’t know how to forgive you for that. I know it’s possible, worse people have done worse things and they’ve somehow found a way to still be a family, but…I want to. If not for you guys, for me,” her chest’s rise and falls had evened out, “Because I’m tired of being broken. I’m tired of pushing everybody away. I’m tired of thinking that there’s something unlovable about me. I’m tired of thinking that being alone is somehow better than having people that care about you, and I’m tired of being scared,” Y/n threw her free arm out at her side and laughed, “I’m so tired of being scared.”

“None of this probably makes any sense to you, but, ” she sighed, “Mom, Dad, I don’t want to keep doing this. Only talking on my birthday, seeing you every couple years, not knowing what’s going on in your lives…I don’t want that. I want to know you. I want to come home for Christmas. I want to share my life with you. And if you can’t do that then…I don’t want anything.”

Her own words shocked her, was she really potentially kicking her parents out of her life?

“Because I’ve built a really amazing life here,” she said, her voice faltered with emotion, “With amazing people and they love me. They really love me and I’m crazy about them. And I want you guys to be a part of it,” she exhaled and felt the tears rock forward in her eyes, “And if you don’t want that, that’s okay. I’ll be alright because I have them.”

Y/n sighed, feeling the weight of a lifetime lift off her chest.

“I love you, Mom. I love you, Dad,” she continued, “And I hope you love me, for once, more than you do anything else.”

Y/n lowered the phone, staring at the call time. 2 minutes and 10 seconds was all it had taken. “Bye.”

The moment she disconnected, the room suddenly came to life. There was color to the walls and texture to the curtains. There was light shining in through the window and the smell of the coffee on its tray filled the room.

Y/n was free.

Lightened by the release of her life’s pain, the decision at hand became so clear. Y/n flipped on the hotel television, switching the channel to Sky Sports. The match was already into its second half and the Greyhounds were up by one goal.

She did the math in her head. The stadium was ten minutes away. She could still make it.

Flying across the room, Y/n dug through her suitcase for any clothes that weren’t pajamas. She emptied the contents onto her bed only to spot a familiar piece of fabric tucked in one of the compartments.

Y/n unfolded it.

Jamie’s jersey. Still packed from Wembley.

She laughed under her breath, the coincidence of it all was too perfect.

Y/n slipped on the oversized shirt, same as the last time. She threw on jeans and sneakers, grabbing her phone and coat before racing out her hotel room.

The elevator would take too long, she decided, so she sped down the stairs from the sixth floor all the way to the lobby. Jamie hadn’t been the only one to benefit from Roy’s training sessions.

Y/n bolted out the front doors of the hotel and ran to the sidewalk, waving her hands wildly to the cabs that drove by. Eventually, one stopped for her.

“Where to, love?”

“Ethiad Stadium,” Y/n answered as she hopped in the backseat, “Quick as you can.”

The cabbie got back in his lane and took her the way of the stadium. Y/n buzzed in the backseat, adrenaline pulsing through her veins at what she was doing.

“Could you put the match on?” She asked, most of them were typically broadcasted on the radio.

The driver flipped the station till he found the correct one. Y/n listened intently from the backseat, hanging on every word.

Halfway to the stadium, the cab hit typical game day traffic. After waiting impatiently a few minutes, the commentators announced there were twenty minutes left on the clock. If nothing changed in the next thirty seconds, Y/n would miss it entirely.

“You know what,” she reached into her coat pocket, picking a few bills from her wallet and throwing them in the front seat, “Keep the change.”

Y/n ignored the confused calls of the driver as she slid out the backseat into traffic. She ran through the lines of cars until she hit sidewalk. With every slap of her foot against the sidewalk, she could feel Ted’s words penetrate her heart even further. This was what she was supposed to feel.

The sight of Ethiad Stadium welcomed her. Guided by signage, she sprinted to the back entrance she’d usually come through with Rebecca and Keeley. Her sneakers practically screeched across the marble floor, slowing down only for the metal detector and security pat-down.

“Y/n Y/l/n,” Y/n recited her name to the liaison holding a guest list, “I’m with AFC Richmond.”

“Ah,” the young man located her, “Welcome to Ethiad Stadium, Miss-“

Y/n was off before he could finish, bolting up the staircase that would lead her to the VIP box.

She pushed past guests dressed far nicer than her and slid through gaps half her size. Somewhere along the way, Arlo White and Chris Park’s voices became clearer. They were being played through the stadium’s sound system.

“Tartt tried to soldier on, but now he’s in some distress and may require attention.”

Y/n’s steps slowed, pausing in the busy hall to listen properly.

“The med team is helping him off the field. It looks like Richmond may be in trouble.”

Never in her life had Y/n run faster.

Arriving at the VIP box, she rushed up to the security guard.

“Ticket please.”

“I don’t have one,” Y/n panted, “I’m with AFC Richmond.”

“Sorry, love,” the burly man shook his head, “Can’t let you in without a ticket.”

“No, no, no, I’m PR,” Y/n insisted, “I need to get in there now.”

The security guard was unmovable, taking a firm stance in the doorway to block her. “I can’t allow you in without a ticket, ma’am.”

With Jamie injured, there was a new recklessness to Y/n’s urgency. She didn’t quite care what she had to do to get in. She jumped in place to see over the guard’s shoulder, spotting the top of Rebecca’s coiffed hair and Keeley’s curls.

“There! There’s my bosses!” Y/n exclaimed, surging forward through the tiny space between the man and the door.

He pulled her back and away from getting any further, “You can’t enter without a ticket. If you don’t leave now-“

“Rebecca!” Y/n shouted, “Keeley! Keeley! Rebecca!”

She was loud enough that both women, plus Higgins, turned around in their seats. The sight of Y/n struggling against the security guard must have frightened them more than she’d intended.

Rebecca rushed through the room, “Let her go! Who the fuck do you think you are?”

“You know this woman?” The guard asked, still holding Y/n back as if she were some crazed fan.

“She works with me,” Keeley scolded, having followed Rebecca, “Get your fucking hands off her.”

The guard released Y/n quickly, eager to avoid any more reprimanding. “I’m so sorry, ma’am,” he addressed her, “Go on in.”

Y/n launched herself into Rebecca’s waiting arms, exhausted but charging off once more with the women.

“We thought you weren’t coming,” Keeley said as they rushed back to their seats.

Ignoring any and all things around her, Y/n ran down the steps of the box and threw herself against the railing. Jamie. Where was Jamie?

Down by the side of the pitch, he was laid out with the physios working on his ankle. Whatever move he’d pulled had cost him something terrible.

“What happened?” Y/n asked, unaware of who she was asking.

“He stopped a goal and landed wrong,” Keeley explained, slipping into the seat beside Y/n’s, “They just brought him off.”

Y/n clutched the railing with a vice-like grip, her eyes never leaving Jamie. She could see he was breathing hard, that his body clenched with every touch the physios made. He’d never been injured on the pitch this bad.

The game, however, couldn’t stop for one player. Ted made the call to play with ten men for the time being while Jamie rested. The Greyhounds held their own, Van Damme in particular blocking nearly every goal. But all Man City needed was one goal to tie things up and take the league title.

“Come on, Jamie,” Y/n mumbled as if she could will him to rally, “Come on.”

When the medics had done everything they could, Ted kneeled down next to Jamie. They appeared to be in deep conversation, Y/n would have killed to be on the other side, encouraging Jamie back onto the pitch. Whatever Ted was saying had to help. The team didn’t stand a chance if it didn’t.

“Get up, get up, get up,” she whispered, “Jamie, please get up.”

In perfect timing, Jamie extended a hand to Ted, who helped get him to his feet. Y/n held her breath as he bore weight on his ankle and exhaled when he didn’t buckle.

“Yes,” she clapped.

Ted went back to Beard and Roy, and Jamie took his time getting back on the pitch. The Man City fans livened up and began booing their former striker.

With her emotions driving her, Y/n turned to the sections around hers. “Oh, fuck off!”

Jamie shared her sentiment, taking the hate as well as the praise. He egged them on further and encouraged the taunts, jutting his tongue out and beating on his chest.

“Come on, Jamie,” Y/n cheered. There was no way for him to see or hear her, but she stayed up and screaming as if she were right beside him.

Jamie made it back to the pitch and the match resumed. Van Damme blocked another goal with spectacular skill and got the ball over to Isaac. Isaac kicked it across the field to Jamie, who controlled it masterfully.

Y/n’s breath hung in her chest as he moved across the field. Before her eyes, he came back to his truest self. This was him at his very best. This was Jamie playing for no one but himself and it was beautiful.

Jamie avoided every single City player that tried to steal the ball away. Making it to the net, he sent the ball flying and the whole stadium froze.

It soared past the goalie, a perfect shot.

The Greyhounds pounced on their teammate, hugging and slapping him on the back. The entire crowd went wild, the Richmond fans lost their minds.

“YES!!” Y/n threw her hands in the air, “JAMIE!!”

Keeley, Rebecca and Higgins jumped to their feet, cheering and screaming. Y/n and Keeley reached for one another and squealed.

Jamie chose the honorable route and didn’t make a big deal over the goal against his former club. When the boys let go of him, the ref blew his whistle and held up the sub board. Roberts was coming on, Jamie was coming off.

It was the most extraordinary way to leave a match, and Jamie was in a bit of pain. He wasn’t going to argue with the decision. But he hadn’t expected the Man City half of the stadium to change their tune. When their boos morphed to cheers, his eyes glistened with lifelong tears.

It had been a long road to get to a point where Jamie could play for himself. He’d spent all his years working to prove his father wrong, using his hatred as motivation to grow his skills. When he’d exhausted that option, he found himself a man without a country. He wasn’t sure what to do.

Then Y/n had shattered his heart.

He’d woken up with very little motivation to play. Their goodbye had added edge to all his fears. Mixed with the possibility of seeing his father, it was a miracle Jamie could move. But he was a fighter till the end, and even if he was a wreck, he would still give 110%. That was his gift.

As he looked up into the stands, despite everything, he wished Y/n was there to celebrate with him.

Little did he know, Y/n was crying tears of pride on the second level. She watched Jamie walk off the field feeling her heart completely tied to his. He’d proved everyone, even himself, wrong.

The game ended soon after that, with Richmond coming out on top. They had earned their spot in the last game of the season and a chance at the Premier League title. Y/n, Rebecca, Keeley and Higgins fell into an group hug.

“Hey, hey,” Y/n pulled out of Keeley’s arms and locked eyes, “You’re my best friend.”

Keeley’s gaze grew teary. She didn’t know what had changed in Y/n since the night before, but she welcomed it and hugged her tighter.

“And you,” Y/n reached over to Rebecca, “You’re just so fucking amazing.”

Rebecca laughed and wrapped an arm around Y/n, lovingly kissing her hair. Her friend was back from wherever she’d disappeared to.

“Oh,” Y/n grabbed hold of Higgins and grinned, “I love working with you so much.”

Higgins embraced her and shouted over the crowd. “Good to have you back.”

As much as she adored them, Y/n’s eyes fell downwards to the pitch. Jamie was celebrating amidst the boys, but they were about to leave.

Keeley followed her gaze, “Go. They’ll take him to the med room.”

Y/n’s face dropped, realizing that she had made a huge faux pas towards Keeley she hadn’t even considered.

Keeley could read the worry before it crossed Y/n’s lips. “Oi, fuck off,” she laughed, “Go get him.”

She didn’t need to hear anything else. Y/n took off running.

She sprinted through the stadium, weaving in and out of the crowd until she hit the authorized personnel area guarded by security.

“I’m with AFC Richmond,” Y/n breathed, exhausted by the effort expended. She reached into her wallet, “I have proof.”

She held up the employee ID and let the guard examine it.

“Go ahead,” the taller one slid to the side.

Y/n rushed through the glass doors. This was one of the only stadiums she hadn’t been to and she didn’t know her way. She peeked through every door until she found the physio room. Neither the medics nor Jamie were back yet.

Jamie hobbled down the hall, assisted by the physios that had aided him on the field. The adrenaline of the game was starting to wear off and he was looking forward to getting off his foot.

They opened the door to the back room to reveal the last person he expected to see.

Y/n spun around and their eyes met, fear suddenly taking hold of her. In her mad dash to the stadium, overcome with emotion, she hadn’t taken into consideration that Jamie may not have wanted to see her.

“Ma’am,” one of the medics spoke up, “You can’t be back here.”

Jamie was dazed, from the thrill of the match and Y/n’s presence. He took clumsy steps toward her, stuck in the magnetic pull they had on one another.

Y/n cautiously moved forward, terrified of what could come next. Jamie had every right to throw her out and never speak to her again. She almost wanted him to, to make her regret ever turning him away. Deserving seemed like too plain a word. She had earned his indifference.

But in the way Jamie’s eyes traced her face, warm and familiar, shocked and relieved, she knew that wasn’t the case.

They fell into each other’s arms without a single word.

“I’m sorry,” Y/n whispered through her tears, “I’m so sorry.”

Jamie buried his face in her neck, unable to do any more than absorb her. She was here. She was here.

Y/n, however, had so much to say. She urgently guided his head up to face her, tears welling in both their eyes. In that moment, telling the truth never seemed simpler.

“I love you.”

Jamie’s mouth curled upwards, searching her face in shock.

“I love you so much,” Y/n confessed, holding his cheeks, “I’m so sorry for what I said.”

She was cut off by Jamie, pressing his lips fervently into hers.

Neither of them could clearly remember the kisses they’d shared during their one night together. They certainly couldn’t count them. But this, this held all the glory and promise of a first kiss. Months of tension and longing they didn’t know they’d felt were poured out, replaced by sweet relief.

With his brain hazy and high, Jamie backed them up towards the physio table. The first step he took on his ankle made him wince, but he didn’t break from their kiss.

“Jamie, Jamie, Jamie,” Y/n pulled away, smiling breathlessly, “Ankle.”

“Don’t care,” he mumbled as he chased after her lips.

Y/n giggled, letting him steal a few more sloppy kisses. She wasn’t in a place to deny him anything.

When Jamie did eventually pull back, he nudged his nose against Y/n’s, breathing her in. “You only back here ‘cause I won it for us?”

“You caught me,” Y/n ran a hand through the back of his hair, “I’d have slipped right back out if you hadn’t.”

Jamie grinned and stroked a hand over her head. Now that he had her as close as he’d craved, he wanted to touch as much as he could. He looked down between them and spotted the familiar blue and red.

“I swear, magic shit happens when you wear this thing,” Jamie rubbed the fabric between his fingers.

Y/n rested her forehead on Jamie’s shoulder, shaking with laughter.

“I’m a fucking genius for buying it,” he beamed, pressing a kiss to Y/n’s hair. “I love you so much.”

Knuckles rapped against the door and someone cleared their throat. At some point, the medics had left and returned.

“Mr. Tartt,” one said, “We do need to check your ankle.”

Y/n removed herself from being pinned between the table and Jamie. Jamie dropped his hands to hold hers, unwilling to lose full contact as he took a seat. The physios had a difficult time working with Jamie’s constant movement, trying to pull Y/n in for kiss after kiss.

All things considered, Jamie got off lucky. A brace was wrapped around his ankle and he was advised to use crutches for the next few days. Jamie heard most of their instructions…well, some. He’d more distractedly spare the medics a glance before looking back to Y/n, who memorized all their warnings.

When they left once more, giving Jamie a minute to rest, he tugged Y/n between his legs and wrapped his arms around her waist. Y/n tucked herself into his chest, holding his head as it dug into the side of hers.

There was so much to say, so much to explain, but neither one could think straight enough for any of it. All they wanted to do was hold each other, reveling in the sweet relief of longing being exchanged for love.

—————————

Back at the hotel, Y/n packed both hers and Jamie’s room while he rested on the Coach. She’d handed his suitcase off to Will before heading to her own car, regretting her decision not to join the team bus considering how the trip was ending.

Jamie got Y/n on the phone the second they pulled out of the hotel. She’d insisted he ride back with the boys, but he was more insistent on not being apart for a second. They spent very little time talking as the phone got passed around, each of the Greyhounds wanting to speak to Y/n after so many weeks with no contact.

Keeley and Rebecca coveted the mobile the longest, badgering her for as many details as Y/n would give them on how her and Jamie had come to be. Y/n revealed precious little information, both because she was still retracing the sequence of events herself and because she didn’t feel like telling the entire team just yet.

Along the way, Kenneth the bus driver and Y/n were weaving between lanes together, switching spots in front on one another. The boys could be heard shouting for Kenneth to drive faster so they could beat her. Y/n smiled and laughed the whole way back to Richmond, lighter than she’d been in years.

They pulled into Nelson Road Stadium late, but full of energy. The Greyhounds poured out of the bus toting champagne bottles, singing and chanting as loud as they could. Man City was their great white whale, and they’d beaten them so spectacularly, they deserved a fucking celebration.

Y/n moved around the physio room while Jamie was in the locker room, setting up a bucket of ice water for his ankle, per the medic’s instructions. She headed down the hall to retrieve him after, running into the boys changed into their dress clothes.

“Looking good,” she complimented.

The stragglers cheered and hung back to hug Y/n, Isaac picking her up and spinning her around. Richard pressed a kiss to her cheek.

“Hey,” Colin grew serious and pointed a finger towards her, “You owe us an explanation for where you’ve been.”

“Yeah, not cool,” Isaac agreed, setting her back down.

“I know, I know,” Y/n chuckled, “You’ll get one. But tonight,” she gestured to the door, “Go make a big fat mess of headlines for me to clean up.”

They cheered rowdily before heading out the door, leaving Y/n beaming. She was home.

She slipped into the locker room, Jamie was seated in his assigned spot, fidgeting. She knocked softly on the door.

“Come on, superstar,” she held out a hand.

Jamie smiled coyly, “Where you takin’ me?”

“I’m making sure Richmond has a fighting chance next weekend,” Y/n replies, helping him to his feet, “Can’t afford to lose you before you beat the shit out of West Ham.”

Jamie wrapped an arm around Y/n’s shoulders, much preferring to use her as his brace than the crutches. They took their time getting down the hall and into the physio room.

Y/n went about getting Jamie situated while he typed something into his phone. Once his foot was submerged in the ice, she stood to her full height and asked, “Whatcha doing?”

“Texting me dad,” he answered plainly.

Y/n blinked, “I’m sorry, what?”

Jamie clicked his phone shut and set it aside. They had a lot to catch up on. “When I was down, Coach came and talked to me. Told me that I should forgive me dad,” he quickly held up a hand to Y/n’s worried expression, “Not for him. For me. I’ve been in my head all week ‘cause I felt like I couldn’t be me without hatin’ him. Y’know? But between Coach and mum…I don’t know…I found it again. That thing that made me wanna play in the first place. Not for him, not for anyone…just me.”

Y/n smiled proudly. Jamie’s dad was the permanent thorn in his side. Rather than live with the pain, he was learning to grow around it.

“What?”

“Nothing,” she shook her head. It was also deeply ironic that Y/n had made a similar phone call to her parents hours ago. “Just something to tell you later.”

Jamie stroked a hand over her back, “How ‘bout you tell me what made you change your mind?”

Y/n slotted herself between Jamie’s thighs and wrapped her arms around his neck. The new intimacy stole any intention of ever having less than one hand on each other.

“Ted came by my room this morning,” she started, “We had a talk and I…I just realized that I wanted to be with you more than I wanted to stay scared of you.”

Jamie’s brows raised, “Scared of me?”

Y/n nodded and brushed a hand through his hair, “You and all those big feelings…they scare the shit out of me. But I got a taste of what life’s like without you,” she sighed, “And I can’t do it.”

Jamie’s fingers moved against Y/n’s back, he watched and listened intently.

“I raced through the fucking streets for you,” Y/n smiled, “I fought a security guard.”

Snorting at the mental image, Jamie slipped an arm under Y/n’s legs and lifted her onto his lap. She yelped and tightened her hold around him.

“We’re gonna break this table,” Y/n laughed, “And people are going to make assumptions.”

“Let ‘em,” Jamie smirked, eyes full of adoration, “Say it again.”

“I love you,” she whispered joyfully.

He wanted to hear it a million more times and he wanted to say it an equal amount. He captured her lips once more in a soft kiss, content to stay there as long as the world would let them.

The door to the med room squeaked open, “Oh, fuck.”

Jamie and Y/n broke apart, twisting to see Roy and Keeley stood in the doorway.

“You two were annoying before. You’re gonna be fucking unbearable now,” Roy complained.

“Oh, stop it,” Keeley lightly smacked his hand, “They’ve waited this long.”

“What’re you guys doing?” Jamie asked.

“We thought we’d come and keep you company,” Keeley answered.

Roy kicked the door shut and held up an unopened champagne bottle, “Fucking celebrate!”

Keeley squealed and ran over to hug Y/n and Jamie, the three of them embracing one another. “‘Cause that was fucking amazing, Jamie.”

“Yeah, I was fucking amazing,” Jamie agreed, “You’re right.”

Keeley cackled while Y/n dropped her head to Jamie’s shoulder. “Dear God, I don’t think I can handle this ego.”

“Gotten this far,” Roy grumbled, rolling his eyes at his protege.

“We might need to tag team it,” Y/n suggested, “What do you say, Royo?”

“No,” he pointed between Jamie and Y/n, “You signed up for this, he’s your fucking problem.”

Y/n looked down at Jamie, who was already grinning up at her. He’d been her problem for a long long time.

“I’ll make the best of it,” she said, pecking Jamie’s lips.

Roy popped the champagne and he and Keeley pulled up chairs. He offered his ex the bottle, “You start us off.”

“Mmm, don’t mind if I do,” she took a swig.

“Right,” Jamie turned to Roy, “What the fuck happened, man?”

The four of them laughed as the champagne was passed around.

“Did I look sexy?” Jamie asked, turning to Y/n and handing her the bottle, “Babe?”

“I take it all back,” Y/n joked and took a swig, “I’m not ready for this. We’re back to being friends.”

Jamie laughed and tugged her closer to him.

“Shame you weren’t injured in your fucking head, innit?” Roy grinned.

“Right,” Keeley spoke up, “You gonna tell us how this happened? Spare no details?”

Roy took the bottle from Y/n, “You can spare the details.”

Y/n scoffed, “Oh, there’ll be details spared.”

“She just doesn’t want people to know she stole my virtue,” Jamie cheekily smiled, “I get that right, babe?”

Keeley gasped, Roy grunted.

“I will fucking leave you here to freeze to death,” Y/n threatened, “If you ever tell people that’s what happened.”

The foursome stayed put for a good half hour, their raucous laughter bouncing off the walls. Y/n and Jamie explained an edited version of what happened in London to cause such tension at Georgie and Simon’s house. Keeley, surprisingly, didn’t seem to care that she was watching one of her best friends and her ex-boyfriend tell how they’d fallen in love. She was more thrilled than anyone. Roy was less than enthusiastic, but couldn’t hide his smile as he saw how happy Jamie seemed.

When it was time to leave, Roy helped Jamie in to Y/n’s car. He’d need someone to help him around the house for a day or two and there was no one else he wanted to take care of him. They made the twenty minute drive to Jamie’s house non-eventfully, Jamie pressing a kiss to Y/n’s hand at every red light they hit.

Y/n unloaded their bags first, dropping them in the hall, before coming back to help Jamie out of the car. They managed the driveway and the threshold just fine, and the second Y/n had locked the door behind them, Jamie was on her, crushing their lips and bodies together.

After so many months of falling without notice, neither realized just how much love they had for one another until they could express it fully. Like looking through some all-knowing kaleidoscope, everything leading up to that very moment made crystal clear sense. The jealousy, the adoration, the attachment…it had all been leading to this.

All of Jamie’s hard work, his effort to become his best self had mattered. This was the payoff.

Y/n’s long-standing walls crumbled with each touch, never to be rebuilt. Her fear melted at their feet.

They were free of their pasts, belonging only to their future.

————

Heartfirst Taglist: @lalla-04p @optimisticsandwichgladiator @makingmunson94 @taytaylala12 @storysimp @sokkigarden @lightninginab0ttle @poohkie90 @alipap3 @verra-nerevarine @shineforever19 @spaceagechimera @burnafter-reading @qardasngan @cyberpvnk-enthusiast @sogoodtoheritsvicious @buckybarnex @angelsunflxwer @blueanfield @thewildestwonderland @sablecities @oxxolovemelikeyoudooxxo @strawberryacethingz @mentalistfan @tortilla-maria1 @katdahlali @for-fuck-sake-im-alive @glitterquadricorn @jamieolivia27 @imvibin69 @katlizada @lil-tracys @fanaticalfantasist @heyitz-julia @cactajuice @peachyy-tea @notalxx @rockchickrebel @anxiety-prime-max @loveforaugust @jellycolors @actuallybarb @heletsmelovehim @lovinnscarletknight @imfalling-inlove @leslieiscrying @meg-ro @littlemisssunshine192 @beboldbebravethings @maydayfigment @spencerreidsbookclub @dream-alittlebiggerdarling @lemoonandlestars @im-a-weirdo-for-life @mindless-rock (tags cont. in comments ❤️)

[jhuzen]

Hi! I'm here to request a Blade x m.reader(fluff, with a bit of angst). Since you said you're open👀.

I've got an idea. Blade gives like the old black cat energy vibes, and maybe what if he got clingyyyyyy, like so clingy, to the point even he is surprised. That's understandable for some point, cause he's got little to no attention in his past years, after he forgot everything(poor little Bladie)

But who am I to deny Bladie's attention, right? Haha. I really like how u do a bit of headcanons first and then a little fic in the end.

(Can i be anon K, hehe?🤪)

feline care [m.reader]

can you tell how much i love this man? ty ty nonnie K, lysm for this wonderful bladie request,,, jUST A FEW MORE WEEKS, WE CAN DO THIS TOGETHER, MKAY? hang in there <3

𖦹 blade being a cat-aligned man, subtle clinginess and yet no one calls him out for it, mentions of his past (i’ll try not to spoil too much), a tiny pinch of angst, and a spoonful of fluff, bittersweet on some parts (only because i mentioned the word bittersweet lmao)

It’s agreed upon everyone who has known you and Blade that… Blade is a cat more than a man, and you are a scratching post more than his lover.

Not that you’re always covered in scratches (though you have left your shared room in that state on some occasions). It’s more of the premise that he’s almost always latched onto you. It was odd for the others. Even Silver Wolf looks up from her game, baffled to see that when you’re briefing the mission from Elio, somewhere beside you, Blade has his hand on your hip. Kafka sometimes gets interrupted in her gossips with you when Blade sits down without warning beside you. She doesn’t mind from then on. Sam and Elio share the same experiences too.

He just… intervenes silently. Like a cat suddenly demanding your attention while you’re busy and he does it wordlessly and for some reason, no one questions him about it. In the middle of conversations, in the middle of meals, if you’re with someone, Blade does not care and will slide in beside you.

Blade has this primal need to just be beside you, to have a part of him touching you. His shoulder against yours, his hand on your back, heck, even a strand of his hair on yours, it’s more than enough.

No one points it out to him, but he’s the one who slowly came to the realization that he’s being… a little too touchy, a little too clingy than what was normally expected from him. Of course he has his own self-awareness, but it’s just that he’s so drowned and enticed with your presence, it takes him awhile to realize that sort of thing.

He’s a recluse, and often kept to himself. He only follows his comrades and will protect them if necessary, you included. But ever since you’ve propositioned a life of partnership with him — not just any partnership, it’s one that comes with your unbridled love and adoration for him, suddenly he’s reaching out some more to you, sticking some more beside you, needing even just a measly lick of attention from you.

Blade appreciates how you let him do as he wishes. You acknowledge him but not so much that it makes him feel standoffish towards you. It reassures him that he isn’t overstepping. (Though really, you’d love to tease him about it, you know it’ll quickly scare him away and you’ll be deprived of feeling his touches for awhile. It has happened once and you won’t let it happen again).

But it’s his touches that show just how much appreciation he has for the love that you can give him. You love him regardless of his past and how he came to be. And it just… shows how much undying devotion he has for you.

He’s a cat alright, it took you a long time to gain his trust, much less have him speak to you when he was officially onboard with you and the rest of the Stellaron Hunters. But the payoff is so satisfying with how he returns every effort you’ve exerted to get close to him. Now that you did your job, it was his turn to keep you close to him. You did it, and now he wants to be yours without a single question from anyone out there.

However there are bouts of isolation that keeps you from seeing him. It’s those times when he mulls over the things he went through. From Jingliu’s torment, to the betrayal of his fellow comrades to him. And instead of seeking you, he becomes this ball of contempt that slowly consumes him from the inside out. He doesn’t want to be near you even if he wanted to because he’s not so hot on the idea of always associating you in his time of need. He has this sense of duty that when he presents himself to you, that when he willingly hovers around you, he’s in his best, ready to protect you if needed.

And that’s where you normally work your magic.

“Dearest~” Kafka coos from behind you, and with her was Silver Wolf, playing on her games.

Currently, the ship is embarked on a random planet, just a little stopover before continuing on your journeys to hunt Stellarons and aid Elio in his… incredible fascination in being the slave of destiny. And right about now, you were in charge with looking over the next world you and your little crew of misfits are about to pay a little visit to, (perhaps also terrorize).

You grunted in acknowledge from your spot, eyes never leaving the holograms that wafted around your entire space. It was hard work, alright. Sometimes you wonder if Elio is a bitter single that refuses you to even spend some time with your beloved just for a short while.

“Seen Bladie around? Silver Wolf and I are heading down to shop around, might you and your beloved be interested in some fun with us?” Kafka’s eyes crinkle as she looked at you, despite the fact that you weren’t facing her. You can hear the smile in her voice anyway.

You suddenly perk up at the thought. It was strange — Blade wasn’t around for the entire day. Normally he was hovering around you, a hand on your hip while he leaned in with absent subtlety, watching you work in silence. But today… your body barely felt the warmth of his touches, and you were sure you woke up beside him just fine.

Finally did your eyes leave the information, swiping a hand on the projected holograms of information, watching it dissipate into air while you looked at the girls. You cocked your head to the side, all too confused.

“You mean he wasn’t around you guys?”

Silver Wolf only looked at you with the evident exasperation on her face, “He’s basically attached to you 24/7. What makes you think he’ll even come to us?”

Raising a hand in surrender, you only brushed off Silver Wolf’s petty sass, “Okay, okay. Alright.” You brought out your phone, scrolling through the contacts to see if Blade sent you any messages.

It wasn’t even a surprise to see that he has none to say. He was one of those that preferred… coming to see you to talk to you… even if it meant getting the scare of your life after flicking the lights to your bedroom on, only to see him sitting at the edge of the bed, looking at you with anticipation.

It was cute… but your heart that day disagrees.

You pocketed your phone after, “I’ll check around. Maybe Elio had him do something.”

Kafka nods along, “Come and have fun with us if you can, hm? Of course… that is unless if you find fun with each other first.” She cackles at the disgruntled look on yours and Silver Wolf’s faces.

“Gross.”

“Yeah, I agree with the kid.” You pinched the bridge of your nose before waving them off, letting them off the ship while you went off in the other direction, eager to look for Blade.

You’ve searched everywhere, and even went high and low, leaving the one and only unlikely place for Blade to be in since he got with you — his very own room. You can’t seem to recall how your rare invites for him to sleep over soon turned into you constantly waking up with him nestled in your arms while he slept peacefully. The line was very blurry by then, and it was the least of your worries by now.

The door to Blade’s room slid as you entered.

“Aeons, it’s bloody dark in here,” you flicked the lights on with much struggle. “Blade, a— AH—!”

There goes your second heart attack for your lifetime.

Blade was unfazed as he sat on the edge of the bed like the last time, also looking at the door, now right at you as you stood by the door frame, clutching your rapidly beating heart that thudded against your chest.

Your heart quickened in a different way as soon as you saw the faraway look in his eyes. And one too many times, it broke your heart when his eyes expressed such sadness. You didn’t know much, you never asked, you never could stomach seeing him bring out his likely suppressed memories of the past just to satisfy the curiosity you’ve had. All you knew is that he has been through a lot, so much that he only considers himself as a weapon without regard of who he was or what his name was even.

You slowly idled as the unused bed dips in your added weight when you sat beside him. Hands on your lap, gracious enough to give him space until he reels himself back in. That was your little Blade protocol. As long as he isn’t too far gone, you’re ready to express the fact that you are willing to wait for him. Your gaze finds the emptiness of Blade’s room a little too bittersweet — that he had little to no possessions to express who he is, but at the same time a reminder that he vacated this lonely room and migrated to yours.

And while you mulled over the emptiness, Blade was slowly coming into his senses. His mind is in pieces with barely anything but the sharp sting of betrayal from his comrades, the pain he succumbed to under that woman, and the revenge that burdened him as he awaited the day he gets to Xianzhou Luofo to make them all pay the price.

He blinks, suddenly aware of the warmth beside him and he looked to his left to see you, and like a cat, he’s spooked. He stiffened up quick and almost stood up if your hand hadn’t held him down as it quickly landed on his thigh.

“What’s up with you and sitting silently in dark rooms? Seriously, even Silver Wolf’s getting spooked. Did you pick that up from Kafka?” You laughed — not even a mention of what he was thinking about, or what has gotten him all knotted up. Just the way he likes it.

You don’t ask questions, but your warmth invites him to tell you everything that he knows.

Blade only scoffed but a ghostly smile was on his lips. “I like to think without hearing you mumble about what to eat. Is food all you think about?”

“I’m not the one constantly latched onto someone’s hip almost everyday.” You called him out quick and he gave you a look of hesitance. Uncertainty flashes through his normally sharp cold eyes and you were quick to reel him back in. “Not like it’s a problem or anything. Seriously, you’re quicker to spook than a cat. Don’t be so skittish, you’ve seen me without clothes before.”

Blade groaned as he pressed his palm against your mouth, “Quit yammering about things like that.” As blissful as those memories were, the last time you were caught talking about something, Sam overheard, Blade refused to leave your shared room, and you had terrible scratch somewhere along your neck.

Even in the emptiness, you found your bliss beside him and Blade mirrored your sentiments. Even more so when you would shower him in the attention that he so desperately needs without having to beg for it.

You wordlessly watched as he stood up from the edge of the bed. You had every inkling to stop, but you also understood that Blade comes to you when he’s ready. Still, it wouldn’t hurt to keep him around and show him an ounce of comfort that he himself clearly needs. But you were stunned when he turned to you and drops to the floor, on his knees.

“Uh…”

Blade doesn’t speak when his head finds itself on your lap, cheek on your thigh while he refused to look at you.

But when he did, there was a silent plea. To soothe his aches with your loving touch, to comfort him with the smile that finds captures every starlight in existence. You only complied with a minuscule smile as your fingers slowly threaded through his luscious dark hair, fingertips soothingly massaging his scalp.

You relished in the sigh that escaped his lips as he melted in your touch, his head lolling in your lap.

“…Our shampoo does more wonders to your hair than mine.” You commented with a tiny pout and he only grunted in response. He’d rather you talk to him until he forgets that painful void in his chest after being betrayed by his comrades. “Or maybe you’re just naturally perfect, huh?”

“‘M not…” his response was muffled, but you understood nonetheless.

“You are.” You insisted with another grin as you continued to pamper him with your gentle touches. You could see the way his shoulders visibly released tension, his form going slack as he indulged in the comfort you offered.

You stayed in silence with him, the static atmosphere in the room no more than suffocating as you made sure your love and devotion reached him as much as he did yours.

And suddenly, your hand gravitates from his head down to his other cheek, caressing it ever so gently. Your featherlight touch soothes his core deeply and he could only let his lips curl up into a small satisfied smile.

Your hand moved down further until you scratched the underside of his chin.

And a purr rumbles from Blade’s chest.

You stopped and his eyes snapped open as the realization hits you both like the Astral Express. He hurriedly looked up to you and sure enough, there was an ecstatic grin plastered on your pretty face.

“Wh—”

“Don’t.”

…And so you don’t. For now at least.

[imakatperson22]

I’m back with more thoughts:

(It’s long but I put a lot of effort into it so please read!):

I’m seeing a lot of concern for buddie’s canon potential from a network/business standpoint. People are worried it will be too much of a gamble for the network to go all in on buddie. Let’s break that gamble down:

(This is considering the sole factor of network strategy and not whether the actors are willing to do it or if the writer’s choose to go down that road. For the sake of argument, let’s say everyone is on board except network execs.)

Let’s start by looking at the environment of the television industry. Back in ye olden days, at the dawn of modern fandom, queer ships were not ever expected to be canon. Those who shipped them had this understanding and shipping largely remained a thought experiment or creative inspiration. It was always JUST FOR FUN because there were no meaningful consequences to it. In this era, it probably would’ve been a bad bet to introduce a queer love story because we hadn’t reached a place in society where it was not only tolerated but rooted for by a meaningful amount of a show’s audience.

Today is an entirely different ball game. Today queer people have gained enough power in society and proven they will consume media involving queer romance enough to make it profitable to include these plots. Today, we as a community have enough allies who also have a desire to see our stories told. Coupled with internet fanfiction and social media platforms, we now have the opportunity to engage in a pseudo dialogue with those who produce content. Now, shipping and fandoms have reached a point where our voices and our opinions do actually have weight to them. Now, we have the opportunity to affect change to a piece of media. We have somewhat of a say. There are now consequences to our actions.

It’s a risk, yes, to get the two (until recently, presumably heterosexual) main macho male leads together because of homophobia. But this show already has a lesbian couple. The viewers who will leave if buddie gets together because “the writer’s turned them gay” are probably not the same fans who are tuning in every week without fail to watch their favorite characters. They’re more likely casual viewers. They come and go, drifting in and out because it’s something to put on in the background or because the rescues are interesting. So yes, it’s quite possible viewers abandon the show due to buddie canon, but these fans were likely not a solid, dependable group in the first place.

On the other hand, it IS also a gamble to NOT make Buddie canon. This is the (flag)ship (flagship ship?) of the show. Not every loyal viewer ships them, but probably most do, and they do so strongly. If they shut the door on Buddie becoming canon, this will absolutely alienate a hefty chunk of the shows viewers as well. If they don’t walk the line close enough on the “will they, won’t they”, these fans will get frustrated with the lack of payoff and leave. Gone are the days where fandoms stay satisfied if the show tosses them a crumb, a wink in their direction, for their ship because now the option for more is on the table. We know the network knows what we want. We know they see us asking for it. Ignoring it in and of itself is a decision. Competition is stiff and if you decide not to capitalize on fans’ desire for queer romance, they have other options. If they choose to not make buddie canon, many of these viewers will also abandon the show. The difference is this group is the one who’s coming back every week for their love of the characters. This group is the one generating the hype on social media and flooding the internet with fan edits. This group also attracts viewers.

So. Here we are. Two decisions. Both will cost fans. How many fans? Who knows. But only one will also attract them. And that’s the thing. Keeping the status quo isn’t going to generate hype around the show. Only one decision will bring new viewers in. How many people have we seen online say “I’ve never watched this show before, but now that I’ve heard about it, I’m curious.” How many of you reading this came to this show for that reason? We’ve already seen this happen with the bisexual Buck storyline. The ratings for that episode are the highest in the season. The internet is abuzz about it.

Another unique position the show finds itself in is that all the groundwork for a Buddie storyline has already been laid. They could easily avoid falling into the trap of shameless bad fan service because the ball is already tee’d up. They just need to knock it out of the park.

I firmly believe that making buddie canon, if the story is told with skill and care, is the right bet. I believe that not making buddie canon is a greater risk to the show’s revenue. From a business standpoint, buddie canon is the better choice. Whether or not the network execs choose to do so remains to be seen, but I have hope.

If you’re still here, thank you for reading. Here’s a cookie as your reward 🍪.

[winchester-reload]

I have a few thoughts about the Winchesters finale, and though I wasn’t gonna weigh in on this, it turns out I needed to write this down to get it out of my head, so here we go.

I understand that Misha was approached to be included on the show and that there was a “scheduling conflict” that included multiple conversations with Jensen. Here’s my interpretation of that: 

I believe Cas was supposed to make a cameo in episode 13 to tee up the confession resolution—this was always the episode where they were going to crack open the “surprise twist” even before learning they would only get 13 episodes total. In the original scenario, episode 13 would have been the hellatus episode rather than a finale, leaving room for everything to come to a head with episode 22 instead. It’s then they would have given us the actual Dean and Cas reunion. This would have wrapped both stories nicely with each group going off into their own respective sunsets—their own happy endings, while still leaving all the room for the new crew to explore more seasons; all along, we see, The Winchesters was about Dean and Cas as much as it was about Mary and John.

When they didn’t get the back half of the season picked up, I assume they feared it would be more dangerous to show a Cas cameo without getting to address the confession, so Misha likely opted to be left out instead. With the only hint to Cas being Dean’s line that he was looking for his family when he found the Akrida, then directly drawing the parallel that Jack and Bobby were “family.” The core crew for Dean has always been Bobby, Sam, Jack, AND Cas. And he wasn’t looking for Sam because he was still on earth. So who’s left? You might be compelled to believe he was window shopping AU versions of his parents, but he confirms he ran into the Akrida in this world and then sought to interfere with the order by approaching John in an effort to prevent it from spreading to Sam's world. (Why Cas would be AU hopping, idk. The boy is really afraid of being shot down, I guess.)

It goes far to explain the vast narrative parallels we saw reflected in the Monster Club crew if it was intended as a setup for the confession payoff. It honestly doesn’t make a lot of sense otherwise. There’s no reason these people should be living Dean's experiences and regrets every episode unless the writers wanted the viewer to be thinking about the lessons and resolutions in how they relate to Dean too.

Additionally, as this has been a largely uncontested take, this is Jensen's well-funded fanfic come to life. Complete with the embracing of many of our favorite fanfic tropes and emphasized by Dean’s own words throughout the season. Because this is an obvious embrace of that “write your own story” fan side, I believe the reason Dean couldn’t even say Cas’ name in the episode is because they were going to change the spelling from “Cass” as it was in the show proper to the fan-adopted (and more accurate) spelling of “Cas,” which would have appeared in the subtitles and later the script pages.  And even that little thing right there would have been a huge giveaway to the whole game. And a very dangerous thing to do if there wasn’t going to be enough time for follow-through. 

But the truth is, this isn’t a game for many people, and the harm that can be caused by good intentions is just as real. It also begs the question: why should this be so difficult? The answer is it’s not. Edging forever isn’t fun. It’s torture. I understand there’s an art to storytelling, but your audience is weary, and trust has been violated too many times. Even still, the flip side of that coin is honest to god respect for DeanCas endgame means taking the story and the reveal seriously. It’s a tightrope walk. And one that Robbie somehow managed to keep balanced after the finale, without it falling either way.  Also we also need to consider the possibility that Jensen did pitch a full-on destiel love story spin-off but got shot down, opting to couch it in a more CW-branded world instead. He’s mentioned over half a dozen pitches were rejected. It's up to you whether you want to give him the benefit of the doubt on that.

But, I’m gonna be honest here, I don’t know that we will ever get that resolution we crave. Even Robbie confirmed The Winchesters were always meant to “go it alone” after the first season. It’s hard to imagine Dean popping in there to fuck around again after that handoff. But the dude is clearly a very restless sea-faring*, swoopy-haired mofo right now, so I’ll leave that one up to the SPN multiverse and the new Mr. Superwholock’s magical universe-traveling impala. (This show used to be about what again? *looks at notes*.) And FWIW, if they do get green-lit for a whole second season or are allowed to move networks, I believe a good-faith effort will be made to tie the narrative parallels we saw in season one to some real Dean and Cas resolution. If there gets to be a world where John *might* not turn into an abusive dick, then this possibility has to be true too.

For the record, I enjoyed The Winchesters, all the new characters, and the doors the finale opened for the possibility of more. I would have been fine half-watching it with no promises, empty head no thoughts, but I got my clown** suit on again, and though I mostly kept quiet, unlike last time, I did regrettably manage to drag a few friends down with me yet again.  Though the spec sessions were epic, and we did get some art out of it—it still rocks the boat when the base level expectations were only 1. Dean alive, and 2. seeing Cas again. 

But for anyone, like me, upset by the (likely unintentional) Cas-baiting or anyone still reeling about why this stuff can hit so hard, here’s an interesting article about the way our brains respond to fictional characters. Tl;dr: There’s nothing wrong with you. This is science. And while you’re at it, take a look at this article about the very real power of disenfranchised grief over character loss.

Ramble on, fam. And take care of yourselves.

<3 Jackie

*Um hi he appears as a sailor? Literally, on a show with a story Dean is writing whose audience is looking for a resolution to a conversation between two people who’re famously the “most shipped” characters of all time? That’s not an accident. That’s intentional. And it’s another reason why there might be a bitter taste in your mouth. These nods came without resolution, so it still feels dirty, despite the brilliant Easter egg.

**I hesitate to say “clown” here because the lesson on episode 12 was that the clowns were the ones who chose a self-induced limbo rather than face some personal hard revelations. That sounds more like a certain closeted character than it does the people cheering him on, and that felt like an intentional nod too.

***obviously, this is my own rambling spec as I try to reorder my thoughts in the wake of the finale.

[psychotrenny]

It's funny how some people still treat non-engagement as proof of rhetorical victory. "They're not responding to what I said. This means that I've won". Like sure, maybe they aren't responding because you've thoroughly pwned them and they're too busy sobbing and seething. But it's much more likely that they've decided you aren't worth arguing with; too much effort with not enough payoff. Like maybe you've been arguing in obvious bad faith and they've given up hope that anything constructive will come of it, or maybe you're just no fun and they've gotten bored of it. I'll personally get into all sorts of (seemingly) pointless arguments for all kinds of sorts of reasons; from using said arguments as a convenient way to demonstrate a point or jump off into a broader topic to just exploiting them as an entertaining distraction. But even I have points where I figure that it just isn't worth it; nothing useful to be learned, nothing interesting to be demonstrated, nothing fun to be experienced. And if that's your idea of "victory", I shudder to think what defeat looks like

[see-arcane]

Having Bluebeard/Arabian Nights thoughts about our good friend Jonathan Harker and his cordial host today. The parallels have already been drawn elsewhere, but today's entry really hammered home certain points that were only hinted at previously.

The key one being Dracula going out of his way to talk about how he plans to acquire other solicitors for various needs once he's in England, implying Jonathan will be replaced. This means

A) Jonathan's services will no longer be needed and he can go home!

Or:

B) Jonathan's services will no longer be available, because he'll be dead.

Harrowing enough to consider with 50/50 odds of hope versus horror.

And then.

Then.

Dracula insists Jonathan stay with him another month. No reason given. Sure, the whole 'English lessons' thing might be an excuse he could throw in. But it's flimsy at best; he knows Jonathan is of a lower class. He wouldn't be trapped by his work obligations otherwise--Dracula doesn't want to speak like a humble English solicitor. He doesn't care that much about linguistic tutoring. Maybe there are a few odds and ends of business he feels like dragging out, perhaps, but why drag it out rather than be done with the work so he can sink his teeth in?

He's keeping Jonathan there because he can. Because he wants to.

(And, as we'll see in later entries, he's also going to the effort of keeping Jonathan safe and alive despite Other perils.)

Which leads to the obvious follow-up: Why does Dracula want to keep Jonathan around? I'd say it's because the Count is no more oblivious than Jonathan is. Dracula knows Jonathan knows the peril of his situation. And the fun of it--the 'I'll let you go on being alive/human a while longer if this is the entertaining payoff' of it--is that Jonathan can still mentally entice Dracula and maintain the act. Jonathan engages his ego. His sadism. His too-close intimacy. His attention, period.

I imagine there have been other menial workers or unfortunate visitors to the castle over the centuries who failed this particular trial, either out of fear or ire or bluster. Their bones are likely turning to dust in one of the rooms.

Regardless, Jonathan is already aware he's in danger and is t h i s close in the narrative to realizing that there's a fate even more unthinkable than death waiting for him around the corner. One that doesn't end with him just dying, but going on, bound to that castle forever. Yet the fact that this un-ending is even on the table, on top of the Count's decision to keep him locked in with him like a pet, still marks him as the clever, the endearing, the entertaining, the lucky-worthy Bride figure compared to anyone else before or after him who proved themselves unworthy of Dracula's patience or interest. A fatal offense.

Jonathan has been right all along. Because if he were not so appealing as a Scheherazade, so careful of a final Bluebeard bride, he would already have been muscled through his usefulness as an employee in a blink.

Right before Dracula, bored and bloodthirsty, slaughtered him like a lamb.

[honeyjars-sims]

3.1 Enjoy the Silence

“So, how’s your week been?” Khadija greeted Johnny warmly. “I remember last week you mentioned feeling like your parents haven’t given you much space since you started living with them.”

“I mean, I guess it’s going okay. Having to help my dad out at the club isn’t ideal but it was either that or get kicked out of their house.” Johnny was sprawled on the couch, his eyes fixed on the ceiling. In the past he sat upright, fully engaged with Khadija, willing to listen and be heard.

Now couldn't see her expression. He imagined she was giving him one of her looks, probably the one that says I know there's more you’re not telling me. If he saw it, he'd feel obligated to confirm that she was right. He was only there because his dads made him go, one condition of him moving back home.

“So.” He could tell Khadija was carefully considering her words, like someone trying to coax a small animal out of hiding. Too much too soon and he would retreat. “How do you feel about that consequence?”

“I guess it's fair. I’ve been fucking up a lot and they've put up with me long enough.”

“Is that how it feels? Like they're ‘putting up’ with you?” How she was able to pull out a couple of words from a random sentence that revealed exactly how he felt was something Johnny would find impressive were it not so irritating.

“I guess so. I'm not exactly making things easy for them.”

“What's stopping you from meeting their expectations? You seem to recognize when you're falling short.”

“Well, what good would that do? Even when I do the right things it doesn't make a difference.”

“What do you expect to happen as a result of doing the right things?”

“I don't know. I figure there should be some sort of payoff. Like I put all this effort into forgiving my mom and opening up to Lexie and they still…” Johnny's voice trailed off.

“They still what?”

”Nothing.”

He sat in silence until his time was up which wasn’t an uncommon way for him to end his sessions these days. He felt kind of bad for wasting Khadija’s time. She was a nice lady and she was trying hard, but that didn’t make him less skeptical of the process itself.

As he made his way to the parking lot, he got a text: “r u coming out 2night?” It was from Carina, a girl he’d met a few weeks earlier when he was out drinking alone at the club.

She'd approached him that night on the dance floor, her dark curls bouncing around her face and sticking to her glistening skin. She and Johnny alternated between dancing and making out for the remainder of the night.

Johnny had been sleeping with her since then but she made it clear that she wasn’t interested in relationships. He was fine with this as he had no intention of getting emotionally involved with anyone. He let her know he’d be at the club later and headed to his car.

Previous | Beginning of story | Beginning of chapter | Next

[iwritenarrativesandstuff]

I think people who are mad at Fyodor and saying he underestimates Chuuya forget something though - Chuuya's capable of all these impressive physical feats and stuff, but at the end of the day, he's not particularly smart. He's always easily manipulated by Dazai, Ranpo was able to trap him in a book by simply goading him, Mori is able to keep him in line despite Chuuya being way more powerful, etc. Idk I think the fandom put Chuuya on a pedestal for some reason but he has weaknesses too.

"people who say he underestimates Chuuya" as if... I am not one of those people...? I made a whole analysis on this anon??? I'm a bit confused why you sent this to me...

I'm going to assume this was sent in good faith and that you haven't read the light novels, because it becomes very clear from those that Chuuya is actually perfectly intelligent. I'd say probably above average, if I'm being honest - he picks up new skills very quickly with no formal education and he's really quite intuitive. It's just that the poor guy is constantly surrounded by strategic geniuses, and due to his hot-headedness, he comes across as less intelligent by comparison.

If he's so smart, why then is he always tricked by Dazai? Well, everyone is tricked by Dazai. It's kind of Dazai's whole thing. He runs circles around most people. He pranks and torments Kunikida, Atsushi, Sigma, and the list goes on. This has little bearing on Chuuya's intelligence, and is much more to do with Dazai's intelligence. Besides, this kind of becomes a moot point when their plans are very much a team effort, made and carried out with barely any verbal communication whatsoever. When it's time to get serious, Dazai is far from leading Chuuya - they're in step with each other. Chuuya keeps up with Dazai, and is capable of challenging him. That's why the partnership works.

Why was Ranpo able to trap him in Poe's book? Let's take a step back and think to the build up of that. Firstly, this is during Cannibalism arc, where each side had two days to save the lives of their respective leaders. Chuuya's family is under threat, and so he's already under a lot of stress. Second, Ranpo is well-known for being an intentionally irritating little toad and he knew just what to say to make Chuuya lose it - ordinarily, Chuuya is actually capable of keeping it together, but Dazai makes him angry enough to explode. Finally, I sincerely doubt Chuuya expected to get sucked into a book. There's no way he didn't think the goading was a trap, but really? He couldn't have known that and likely assumed his ability was strong enough to handle anything Ranpo threw at him.

So, there's a weakness of sorts, and it's actually highlighted by Hirotsu in Fifteen. Chuuya tends to jump into things because he expects he will just be able to "handle things", which is a consequence of growing up with a powerful ability. Hirotsu warns that people who overly rely on their abilities end up in trouble. This scene was likely a form of payoff for that warning. Either way, I'd expect he won't make that same mistake twice.

Why is Mori able to keep him in line? He isn't, because he doesn't have to. Chuuya serves under Mori because he sees Mori as the successful leader that he wasn't. To Chuuya, Mori has what he doesn't - he respects him and thinks he can learn from him. Chuuya sees the Sheep's betrayal as his own personal failure as their leader. This has nothing to do with intelligence, one way or the other.

Moreover, I think it needs to be said that Chuuya is often well aware when he's being manipulated. He's not oblivious, it's just that there's often nothing he can really do about it. For instance, he is very aware that Fyodor's intention in Cannibalism is to make the agency and mafia fight each other, but as they only have two days before Mori dies and that isn't enough time, he opts for the most direct and immediate course of action.

So, there's another weakness - Chuuya's really not a long-term strategist. He doesn't play the long game like Mori, Dazai or Fyodor - he prefers to sort things out as quickly as possible. However, I need to stress that this does not make him unintelligent or never strategic in the short term.

And that is all that is needed to turn the tables on Fyodor - Fyodor devalues everything about Chuuya other than his ability, but it is always Chuuya who wields that ability, not Dazai. I don't think anyone expects Chuuya to come up with a master plan to completely destroy Fyodor's plans for good... but I fully expect Chuuya to clothesline the guy after the way he continues to refer to him like he's little more than a tool. He's done it before.

Actually, I think I'm just going to wrap this up with a quick list of moments I can think of off the top of my head that demonstrate Chuuya's intelligence.

Every piece of media: Chuuya near immediately pieces Dazai's manipulations together in retrospect, from start to finish.

Main manga: Chuuya is sent to negotiate with the Agency, implying he learned negotiation well from Kouyou.

Fifteen: Chuuya awkwardly tries to shift the investigative focus away from Arahabaki and onto the Old Boss. While this doesn't change Dazai's focus, Dazai ends up entirely unsuspicious of him because he thinks Chuuya just wants to beat people up.

Fifteen: Chuuya expressly warned the Sheep against venturing into Mafia territory to avoid extra aggression.

Fifteen: Chuuya knew the entire time that Randou was the culprit and was gauging how much Dazai knew about his own connection to the Arahabaki situation.

Fifteen: Chuuya goes back to investigate the arcade, suspecting Dazai of having tampered with the game, and was correct in his assumption.

Stormbringer: Chuuya escapes Adam by entering a dark tunnel then hiding to give the illusion that he ran all the way through it. It works and Adam runs right past him.

Stormbringer: Chuuya fakes out Verlaine into thinking he's going to attack N while gearing up to attack Verlaine instead.

Stormbringer: Chuuya fakes out Verlaine again so Adam can launch a surprise attack with an anesthetic.

Dead Apple prologue: Chuuya pieces together Dazai's clue from a single piece of dialogue.

Dead Apple: Chuuya near instantly predicts the course of an incoming grenade while on his motorcycle in motion to ride the shockwave and avoid getting hit.

Also, I think it's important to note that Chuuya's ability is gravity manipulation, not telekinesis. He's not moving whatever he touches - he's manipulating one of the forces acting on it. This means he needs to adjust in the moment to other forces acting on the objects in his surroundings, which can and do change - my first thought was of wind affecting resistance. Either way, he's actually having to juggle a lot of sensory information in the heat of a single moment and that's very difficult to do.

If anyone wants to add any "Chuuya is not dumb" moments that I have missed, please feel free to in the tags or the comments.

Anyways, I hope this answered the initial question, anon!

[radioapplerevue]

you have to be stupid to have a radioapple blog. it's like you didn't watch the show at all. they hate each other and alastor's aroace btw. lucifer's married! it's never gonna be canon. you're going to feel so dumb when s2 comes out

Friend. Friend, let me take your hand. Here, sit down. Are you feeling all right? Would you like some tea? I'm not sure why you are spending time on a blog for something you so clearly hate. There has to be things you can do that are more fun, surely.

I do have to say though, that it's a little funny that you seem to think that people can't ship things if they aren't canon -- as though the backbone of many fandoms going way back isn't non-canon ships. I'm pushing forty, okay. I'm far too old and tired to deal with younger fans and their fandom politics. As far as I'm concerned, fandom is for doing whatever is the most fun for you. If you only want what's in the canon, then just watch the show! But for me, fandom is for exploring, theorizing, connecting, creating.

Fandom, for me, considers the "he would never say/do that" statement less important than "okay, but what if he did say/do that. What would that look like, what would that change, where would the story go from there." That's what is so fascinating to me! I have plenty of canon ships, but I also have many non-canon ships, and I have to say, I tend to find more absolutely incredible fanfics for non-canon ships, because the author really has to put in the effort to make it work. And when they do, the payoff feels so damn good.

I've already explained why I ship these two on this blog before. But to make a long story short: I find their dynamic to have a lot of potential, and I badly want to see where that potential might go. Two powerful, messed up (in different ways) people learning to work with each other, respect each other, and perhaps even care about each other is so delicious. The show won't give me that. At most it might give me them becoming begrudging friends (my biggest wish for them from the show is that they fight together at some point, because that would be goooood), but I don't expect it. I have never seen anyone say that it's going to be canon, so I'm not sure where you're getting that from.

And I don't need it to be! No ship needs to be canon to be enjoyed. I feel fortunate enough that this is a big enough fandom and a big enough ship that I have a veritable buffet of great fanwork to enjoy. I'm used to smaller fandoms, so it's a treat. And as an aroace person, I really love seeing the flavors of ace that people work with in their fics/art. I haven't seen so much of that in a fandom before, and it's really fun. The different approaches they take regarding Alastor's unconventional sexuality, because we don't know where he falls on the spectrum -- and even if we did, it's fine to do what one wants to tell the story you want to tell. If I don't like it, I don't have to read it. This is a sandbox, and everyone can play with the toys whichever way makes them happy.

This was longer than the ask (if it can be called that) probably merits, but you can't gotcha me. I know why I'm here, and it's to have fun with these two absolute fucking disasters.

[wings-of-ink]

If you're still looking for thoughts on Patreon: I haven't subscribed to many Patreons before, but so far it's been for extras + early access. Unfortunately I don't have enough money to subscribe to everyone I want to or for long periods of time, so I normally dip in for 1 or 2 months when something is released, cancel my subscription, and resubscribe at a later date.

It seems like people are willing to pay more for RO content (like side stories & RO POVs), nsfw content, + early access. So those might be ideal to place at higher tiers? I've also seen some creators do tiered early access. Like the highest tier will get the demo update 1 month early, then the next tier 3 weeks early, etc. with the lowest 1 week before it's released to the public. That might make the higher tiers worth it over the lower tiers, instead of giving them all the same amount of early access.

One concern is that some creators get burnout from having to create all the extra content for Patreon. I think a lot of people underestimate how much time & effort it takes and it may not be worth the payoff (depending on how successful the patreon is). I'd also be concerned that with Patreon extra content + multiple new WIPs there won't be much time left for the main game and it's likely progress will slow down. I've seen this happen many times before, even without Patreon it seems like most creators who have multiple WIPs don't end up finishing any of them.

Absolutely, thank you for sharing your thoughts with me, I appreciate that a lot.

The feedback I've had has given me some ideas on how to streamline what I would do. When I've done Patreon for others, I've rotated support between the projects that resonate with me the most as well. There's so many to pick from, I can't blame anyone for popping in once every so often instead of staying subbed. If you have the ability to afford it, more power to you, but most of us just don't.

Those key benefits are really what I'm wanting to focus on. I do like the idea of a tiered early-access too especially for peeps who just want that.

Patreon burnout is something I want to work hard to avoid; I've seen other creators struggle and stop enjoying their arts too. I want to do this in a way that I can produce things for you to enjoy in a way that is still enjoyable for me too. This is my passion and I don't want to turn it into "work."

I have the benefit of probably being less busy than most others who do this, at least as far as I can tell. I'm married with no children and no plans for any either. I'm older, out of college and settled in the drudges of a career. I've been at my job long enough I could do it in my sleep and it doesn't cause me a ton of stress at this point. When I work on the IF or on Tumblr, it's because I want to and it drives me - it's a form of entertainment for me as well. I'd rather do this than watch TV or scroll mindlessly. Even before I started the IF, I'd get comfy and just write something all evening, lol.

I do also have a tendency to take too much on because I get excited, so I'm using the info I've gathered to help me roll things back and keep myself realistic. So, I've determined that anything I do will be reserved to just a few tiers. We can always grow bigger later. I still do plan to rotate up to 3 projects. The second is to keep me from burnout on GC, and the 3rd is simply an outlet for me that I think others will find entertaining as well.

I have some solid time available coming up in October for me to hammer things out more definitely, so I'll be posting more around then about it. ^_^

Thanks again, my dear!

[immortal-lov3r]

bye bye bad habits ୨♡୧ the guide to lose bad habits.

here are some habits to look into say bye bye too:

not enough sleep

skipping breakfast

not exercising

using devices in bed (i did some research behind this its insane)

eating late at night

emotional eating

gossiping

unhealthy eating

over thinking

snacking too much

sitting too much

rushing in the morning

how do i say bye bye to bad habits?

every habit has 3 parts to it : the trigger, the activity, and the payoff.

the trigger is the situation that gets you doing the habit.

the activity is the habit you're doing.

the payoff is the reward you get when you’re done.

find your trigger- what causes me to do this? why do i do this? what effect does this have on me? how does it make me feel?

start small- split your goals into smaller achievable steps, as your reach your smaller goals this will motivate you to reach your greater goal.

have a plan- once you understand what triggers your habit and the reward, you can make a plan that swaps your habit with healthy, achievable goals and minimises triggers. 

change your environment around you- the space around you could be triggering a specific emotion or habit. keeping it tidy and changing the area around you.

replace your bad habit with something healthy- changing your habit to something healthy that has equally the same "blast" as you bad habit, can make you slowly replace it without noticing.

remember to be patient, creating and stopping habits takes patience, work, effort, discipline, and overall can take up to 21 days.

[deadite-central]

Time for some more Fishman Island gushing/thoughts because like I said, I love this arc

The entire flashback shows us different reactions to the racism that fishmen face. How different people deal with it, how it shapes their lives, their morals, their dreams. On one hand we have Fisher Tiger, who cannot bring himself to love humans, and refuses to let human blood be transfused to him, even if it meant he died. However, he doesn’t let that shape how he interacts with the world. He still lets Koala on the ship because he knows that no child deserves to be a slave. No one deserves that life. Then, you have Arlong, who believes that all of this justifies his utter hatred for humanity, how they should be the ones to suffer like he and the other fishmen did. While it makes sense why someone like Arlong would come out of the environment he was in, it doesn’t change the fact that what he did to Nami’s village was absolutely vile.

And finally, Queen Otohime. She understands that a war with humanity is going to bring them nowhere, and instead, she wants to change the world using political power. She takes a bullet for a celestial dragon because she doesn’t want all of the chances fishmen have for a better tomorrow be ruined. Something she had no idea would in the future save her daughter’s life. Otohime believes that they need to work for a better future, to show their children that hatred isn’t the way, because those very children are the ones who will shape the world when they’re older. She might have been an idealist who hadn’t shown enough care for the Fishman District, but her efforts were very real.

Back to the present, Hody gets an absolute reality check when the people of Fishman Island would rather have their home destroyed than let him rule it. It’s not like he cares about the people of the Island either way. But then Luffy comes swinging, absolutely perfectly landing a kick, starting the fight

And finally, the Straw Hats are altogether (even with Jinbei, who only joins them in the future, which I find lovely) ready to take on the New Fishmen Pirates, but also allowing the people to choose for themselves if they are the good guys. Luffy has no intention of parading himself and the Straw Hats as heroes, because what he cares about is freedom, including the freedom to choose what you see him as

Onto the fight with Hody himself, we find out more about his view of the world: he doesn’t actually care about fishmen. He only wants to get divine revenge for what they went through. He needs humans to be inherently evil to justify his conquest for blood, and he couldn’t give less of a shit how many fishmen die in the process. Humans never actually hurt him, but he was raised in an environment that made him believe all of this. This is how he, and many others in the fishmen district lived. That’s why you can’t just abandon a group of people into a district and let their hate brew.

Luffy finally defeats him in the end, once again completely disproving Hody’s and Arlong’s belief that fishmen are inherently stronger than humans, and after a few more problems taken care of (including Shirahoshi talking to the Neptunians) Fishman Island is saved by a human who doesn’t even consider himself a hero

Getting back to the comedy, my favorite gag gets brought back, and in a great way too. Because Big Mom gets introduced, and holy hell is she terrifying here. Luffy obviously doesn’t care, cause he’s Luffy, and talks back to her, finally resulting in saying he’ll defeat her, and the payoff for that will come much, much later

And to finish things of, just like Otohime believed, the children are the future, and they already have different views than their powers. Because while sure, there are still terrible humans, the Celestial Dragons exist, and surface isn’t completely safe. But there are people like Luffy, who the kids themselves see as their hero. And with the fishman district kids also getting another chance, maybe soon fishmen will be able to live their lives without the fear they used to have

[xoxoemynn]

I'm glad you feel at least a teensy bit better after sleeping. I feel pretty out of it. I've had a few weeks of ups and downs that have left me pretty exhausted before this news.

I hope you don't mind me leaving a message here. I've never been part of the fandom community, just outside of it, so I'm not even really feeling the 'at least we still have each other' sentiment. Ofmd helped me revive my creativity after years of not creating anything when I used to do so much. I'm still slower at it than I used to be, but it's a start. It's something.

Ofmd gave me the strength to come out at work, to be myself in most parts of my life rather than just carefully cultivated moments. I've found strength I never knew I had. Ffs I'm doing diversity training information stuff now??

I feels good. Feels great. And I really don't think it was a long shot to think that a successful, critically acclaimed show would get rescued. (I did wonder if making it very clear how valuable it was made HBO have an insane asking price but I hope not)

And I know s2 ended neatly (thank god) but I was so on board with Jenkins' view of "the will-they-won't-they is the least interesting part of a romance". Because you never see the payoff! It's just oh they're together now, the end, and you don't get to experience the characters as a couple. The story was the development of Ed and Stede's relationship, and a 3rd part would have given us the full scope of that.. *sigh

Idk I guess I'm just at a bit of a loss. Feeling empty. I was already struggling posting my work, or thinking how to adjust how I do it, because I don't feel its good enough for this fandom (which in my very limited experience feels very clique-y? If you're not in with the cool kids then no one cares and I'm too old for this!) It's all a bit "what's the point" I guess. I expect it'll pass but aaa, man. Y’know. Rant over, thanks for reading ^^'

The deepest of sighs, the tightest of hugs.

I feel you. Starting work today with swollen eyes and a tired heart. It sucks. This all just really sucks. And yes, I'm so grateful we got the show at all, I'm so grateful for the cast/crew, I'm so grateful for this fandom and the friends I made along the way. But this show, that did EVERYTHING RIGHT, ended before its time. And there's no getting around that just really, really sucks.

You're right, I don't think it was ridiculous to believe our renewal efforts might be successful. Because it SHOULD have been! It was a beautiful show with a passionate fan base that was also viewed very favorably by critics. In any sane world, OFMD's renewal would have been a given. And it's not silly or stupid to hope for good things to happen in a world where so often good things don't. The solution to the world being a shit show isn't to just bow our heads and accept it. It's to keep hope alive because yes, it might turn out different this time! Beautiful things deserve to be cherished, and that's what we did and will continue to do with OFMD. OFMD wasn't canceled due to a lack of love. It was corporate greed, pure and simple, and unfortunately that's a really difficult evil to fight against. But we still gave it our all, and people and the industry took note. That's no small feat.

And the show did so much for all of us! I'm so happy it gave you the strength to come out at work and live more in your authentic self. That's huge! That's the power of good art. And that's something studio heads can never take into account while they plug figures into their calculators and huff and puff about the numbers not being there.

I do hope you'll post your work, and share whatever you feel comfortable sharing. We really are of all skill levels here, and I've found genuine love of the show/its characters > the most technically well-written fic on the planet. I do hear what you say about it feeling cliquey, but for what it's worth, I also think it's very welcoming to newcomers? I realize that sounds like a contradiction. But I do think people have just kind of naturally formed little social circles of their friends and it can feel hard to break into, especially if you're an introvert like me. But I think if you start just getting in people's inboxes or reblogging with tags that show your personality/opinions/whatever, you'll start naturally forming those groups on your own. I'd also really recommend the OFMD Fic Club server if you're trying to get the courage to start posting your own work. It's a really supportive community there of people who've been posting for decades, as well as those who are just beginning to plan their very first fic.

Anyway, this is getting long and rambling so I'll end it here, but please know I'm sending you SO much love. It sucks right now but we'll get through it. And my DMs are open if you ever just want to chat. 💕

[dduane]

hello, hope you and Peter are doing well! I wanted to ask a question that almost certainly has been asked before: How do you go about ensuring that a creative project is sustainable/has 'wings' before diving into it? (I'm thinking less of outlining here and more the step before that - assessing how much meat's on the creative bone and what your appetite is, so to speak)

Well, the first thing I'd have to define is what exactly "sustainable" means. "Capable of being started and finished in some medium or other"? That might enter into the equation eventually... but not instantaneously.

There'll be times when a concept arrives in my creative space within a matter of seconds—like someone poured it into my head out of a jug—or times when it seeps in quietly over a matter of days, until eventually some critical number or volume is surpassed and there's enough of it to register as Something New To Do That Could Be Fun*. In either case I normally have at least a few minutes to work out whether anybody but me is ever likely to want to read or view this thing, and (if so) what medium it seems to belong in.

This process I usually refer to as "weighing [something] in the hand of the mind." And here you can insert video of an insert on a woman's hand holding a half kilo bag of sugar, bouncing it up and down a little to see if it's really half a kilo, or just kinda feels like it.

What I have to confess here, though, is that I have no idea how I do this, or from what my skill at the process derives.

Maybe just a lot of practice? Trial and error? As over forty years there've been more than fifty books, and a whole lot of animation, and a bunch of screenplays, not to mention the comics and computer games and audio adaptations and other whatnot. I've had a while to learn when a story will make an okay screenplay but not necessarily a book (or vice versa); or whether something's better as a novella or novelette, rather than as a novel based on a core concept that, like butter over too much bread, is going to wind up looking and feeling like what Bilbo would have described as "thin and stretched".

I really wish I could more clearly quantify the elements that make up one of these assessments. Every piece of work I embark on goes through one. Some attention's paid to the number of characters, the depth of the emotional interactions, the proposed in-story timeline, and the relative size and weight of the plot's payoff... and how all these balance against one another. But once this evaluation has been made, it's then possible to slot the project into the work schedule—and pray that nothing else interferes with it.

Because of course something may. The most severe form of these idea-arrival events doesn't give you a chance to evaluate anything at all. It just grabs you by the scruff of the neck and dumps you in front of the nearest device or material that can be used for writing and says, in a voice that will brook no dissent, "HI THERE YOU'RE WRITING THIS NOW AND IT WILL BE FUN!" (It'll say this even though that may not, strictly speaking, be true.) I thank great Thoth that this isn't that common an occurrence, because it tends to play merry hell with everything you're supposed to be doing during that period. ...Yet the effects can be good. The Door Into Fire did this to me. So have other projects I can't discuss due to NDAs.

Possibly the best note to wind up on here is that Sturgeon's Law applies. If 90% of all sf/fantasy stories are crap, as Ted said, then so are 90% of all their core ideas. (Or so it seems to me.) Any writer who's been doing this work for any length of time will have many, many story ideas in a given day... and know that only a small percentage of them are worth considering for more than a few minutes, or even seconds. Ideas are easy. It's execution that's hard— that costs you weeks and months and sometimes years of effort and sweat; of taking things apart and putting them back together in different shapes and hunting down just the right word.

If you're embarking on this kind of lifestyle: may luck go with you. (Because sometimes even very good work falls afoul of very bad luck.) ...But keep your hopes up: and keep working.

HTH!

*There are other forms of this surprise attack, including the one @petermorwood went through one time that was triggered by a chance line dropped by a studio executive we were having lunch with in the Paramount commissary. Without warning—and after the fact he was as surprised as everybody else—P. commenced to freestyle a series pitch so good that the lunch went on for three hours while it unfolded. Tl:dr; the series got bought and then ran aground on the financial rocks secondary to 9/11. ...But that's a saga for another day.