#tried to stay as accurate as possible to the games while putting my own insane spin onto it. i like him a lot.

[rosrets]

what are these shadow ideas you speak of 👀

you have no idea what you've just wrought. sorry in advance but no i’m not

SHADOW TIMELINE. i catalogue this in my mind when i draw him because i’m fucking crazy but i decided to draw it out because the doctors needed more reasons to lock me the hell up. this is essentially going to be me rambling about all my design notes for whenever i draw him + whatever else the fuck because i like to think about him existing a lot and pray for the day we get an actually good shadow spin-off (this will never happen)

baby shadow - was let out of his tube when he was about 10-12 years developed - lived on the ark for 5-3 years with gerald and maria and whatever other scientists were around. - he was totally nonverbal for a while and took classes to learn how to speak, this was great for the scientists though because the biolizard shockingly failed this . shadow was just autistic - really nervous and did not have a lot of confidence for the first like. year of being alive he hated being alone and always clinged onto whoever was closest to him

ark shadow - much more confident after getting closer with maria still quiet and fairly reserved but was not above playing some pranksandjokes. a bit of a trickster - chest fur, claws and quills maintained by maria. she liked cutting his chest fluff into a heart - rarely wore his air shoes on the arc because the sensation of  metal + metal sucks and he wasn’t supposed to skate in the hallways. sometimes wore socks when his paws got cold (often) sa2 shadow - garbage memory. turns out being frozen for 50 years does wonders for brain function - fur is more unkempt, has stopped maintaining himself - extremely bitter and cynical, not an outright asshole though and is not above friendly rivalry even if he’s trying to kill the guy he’s racing. he is also incredibly trusting and loyal, struggling to see when he’s being used (ref. eggman, rouge to an extent) - considerably more smug, all he really remembers is maria dying and the fact that he’s the ultimate lifeform but he doesn’t brag and still keeps to himself. - development of the autism scowl begins - once he remembers everything he very quickly regains his senses, developing immense respect for sonic as an equal, as well as a strong sense of selflessness. promptly fucking dies. heroes - shth05 shadow - doesn’t remember fucking anything and is almost constantly on the verge of like 4 different identity crisises - quills got burnt off falling from earth, as well as an ear shredded when he fell into a tree or something idk. he was put in stasis before it could heal which permently fucked it up - still not maintaining himself - eyes wide and full of wonder. still extremely gullible and easy to manipulate, very trusting. (ref. eggman, black doom) - hardly speaks (more talkative in shth05 though) 06 - onward shadow - remembers everything and its extremely overwhelming but he’s dealing with it - most reserved he’s ever been, very distrusting, rarely lets himself gets close to others and the only people he allows himself to drop his guard down around and be a bit more playful are rouge and omega. rarely sonic but this is only ever heat of the moment and never intentional - hates physical contact, easy to overwhelm if he isn’t focused, autism scowl in full force - very hygienic but still a bit overgrown - newfound fear of attatchment and loss, tends to avoid it at all costs, tending to push people away. still fiercly loyal to those who do gain his trust even if he’s garbage at showing it and prone to focusing on the wrong things extra - brown eyes. they look red or orange under some light. blame sonic prime - he still has tourettes i wasn’t bluffing on that but i don’t think anyone thought i was. his tics are usually pretty subtle and only team dark knows about it - prefers fingerless because he likes to be able to feel the earth directly when he touches the ground. something about chaos power + sensory issues - paw pads glow green any time he’s using chaos power (chaos control, super shadow, etc) - he motified his shoes a few times just to fit slightly better. this is only a note because i keep changing the way i draw them - almost always some kind of tired but insists he does not need to sleep that often because of how his chaos energy works. thjis is NOT true he’s just stupid and has nightmares that he doesn't like to deal with - lives at the casino rouge had in sonic battle - still has a really bad memory from being repeatedly frozen - really fond of snack foods. will rawdog an entire pack of saltines in under a minute if you don’t stop him - prefers skating even despite the speed because the shock from running is overstimulating - hates loud noises but still thinks guns and motorcycles are really cool. he can handle it if he’s the one making the noise - semiverbal . does not like to talk . there are several reasons for this - have i made it clear enough that he’s autistic?  he’s autistic BONUS - super shadow

- stripes flare out to look more like stars (this applies when he takes off his inhibitor rings as well) - red gets much brighter, eyes glow red + yellow - unstable in this form, it does not come very naturally to him and exhausts him quickly. not able to  maintain it as long as sonic

[mark-archambault]

There’s Something I Want to Show You

Every day for three years, I drank. I drank at least a six pack a day. I drank on Christmas. I drank on my birthday. I drank on your birthday. I drank on EVERYBODY’S birthday. It was the one thing I could consistently plan for and execute. Most days I just did it without thinking. Some days were worse than others.

“God please, keep me from drinking today. God save me.” I knew it was a problem. I knew it was killing me. Alcohol was killing my future and my present. But knowing and acting on information are two very different things. I had an image in my head of a celestial hand, reaching down from the heavens in time to stop the bottle or can before it reached my lips. Surely God would save me? Isn’t that what God does? Jesus saves, right? I had heard that for years.

In the summer of 1992, my life caved in. My wife and I separated. My band broke up over alcoholic antics. My parents owned the company I worked for or I would not have continued to have a job. I was deeply depressed. My days consisted of work, drinking and sleep. It was more like passing out than real sleep. “God, where are You in all this?”

I stopped going to our apartment after work. I owned a small recording studio that the band rehearsed in. On most nights, I preferred to drink and pass out there.

It was a simple layout with three rooms. There was an entry, a tracking room for the musicians to perform in and a control room for the mixing board, gadgets and audio gizmos. The building had been an auto garage and gas station with concrete block walls. The design was funky art deco 1920s. It was cold in the winter and sticky warm in the summer. For all it was and was not, it reminded me less of failure than the other places I could be. That was the important thing.

This was the first week of July. The small window mounted AC did little to stop the sweat from running down my arms as I came into the tracking room. I plopped myself down on the floor with a cold twelve pack of Bud. I had learned to sit on the floor while drinking as this leaves less chance of falling down and hurting yourself. I needed to not think and this was the only way I could come up with to achieve my goal.

As usual, I sat on the floor in silence. First one beer, then another, playing alcoholic math games. If one twelve ounce can makes me feel like this, than how many ounces will it take to feel this other way? I explored numbers based on six, twelve, and twenty-four while I drank. Twelve ounces, a six pack, twelve pack, sixty minutes in an hour, etc. I timed out the ounces to attain and hold the perfect beer buzz till the correct time to sleep. Too much and I slept poorly; too little and the feeling would pass and the headaches would come back.

The headaches were a problem. How could I predict an accurate number of ounces per hour and still factor in the pain? In the last few months a stabbing pain would slash across my temples after the first few ounces of alcohol. It blurred my vision and caused me to double over, head in hands. At the twenty-four ounce mark, the pain eased and I became numb to it. It had caused me some concern, but I soon discovered that the best strategy was to slam the first two cans so as to get beyond the inconvenience faster. I was still working on calculating the proper balance of ounces after this increase up front. I had patience. When you do something every day, you have the time to experiment until you get it just right.

I have always been fascinated by the sound of my location. Every place has an ambient noise. Air vents blow, lights buzz, insects, birds, sirens, cars… The whole world is an ever changing symphony of auditory delight. Walking from one room to the next or from outdoors to inside, changes the soundscape. Whether you notice it or not, life makes noise. My little studio had an audio life of its own and I was very familiar with it.

The room I was in had florescent lights above me. The current slamming from one end of the tube to the other creates a static zzzzz that puts my teeth on edge. The refrigerator in the entryway pumps out a steady hum. Sound bounces off concrete floors, against plaster walls and is sucked into cloth and foam panels on the ceiling and walls. I had designed this room and I, like any creator, knew how it worked.

After the correct number of ounces per hour for a long night had passed, I became aware of silence, true silence. I had never experienced a complete absence of sound before this. I looked up from my floor to see what had changed and there was Jesus.

He had the form of a man, this was not a ghost. Jesus had light brown, shoulder length, curly hair. Tan, loose fitting trousers were topped with a cream colored Dashiki shirt. The opening around His neck had a pattern of pomegranates and the Star of David.

Jesus stood perfectly still. His eyes looked straight into mine. “There’s something I want to show you.” He said. His voice was calm and clear. A cloud of swirling smoke appeared to His left. Blue black wisps turned spirals of slow movement from top to bottom, turning on itself and returning to its start. The cloud was over a foot wide and several feet high, about the size of a man. Even with Jesus in the room, I could not take my eyes off the smoke. There was something familiar about it. I had seen it before, but could not place it. The sight of it made me tremble inside and sick to my stomach.

The rest of the evening is blank. I have tried, over the years, to recall anything after that, but only remember waking up the next morning. “Wow Mark, you have GOT to get a handle on this drinking thing.” was my only thought as my busy day kicked off. By works end, it was forgotten.

I stopped by the Mini Mart to get a fresh twelve pack on my way back to the studio. There was probably beer left over from the night before, but that could stay in the refrigerator as spare for another day. Fresh is better and one can’t have too much beer. I was alright as long as I was at work, because that gave me things to think about outside of myself. On the job there are pressures and deadlines that do not allow wallowing in self-pity. Now I was once again alone with my thoughts. I had my problems and my answer. I sat on the floor of my well lit room, slammed the first two beers and began the ounce counting. Many, many ounces later the volume dropped out of the room.

The events of the night before came rushing back to my brain as soon as the silence began. Looking up, I saw Jesus. This time I skipped straight to fear and trembling. “There is something I want to show you.” He said in a strong voice. He did not sound angry or sad. The words were important and resonating through my being. That same smoke was already twisting beside him. I closed my eyes.

I closed my eyes as tight as I could manage. Curled into a ball on the concrete floor, I forced myself to think of nothing. I lay there humming to make the voice go away. He had only spoken once, but I was afraid of what else Jesus might say. My muscles ached from contracting as I lay there for what seemed like hours. Eventually I passed into asleep.

“That’s it Mark, you’ve drank yourself insane. You have lost your fucking mind. Good job dumbass!” The next day was surreal. I was afraid, disoriented and a mess. Every shadow was a possible monster as I looked for some meaning to this invasion of my space. What would become of me if I couldn’t even go to sleep at night without seeing deities? Maybe if I slammed the first THREE beers. Maybe 32 ounces would work better? Maybe 48? Maybe…

If you are going to do something right, you need to be dedicated. I was dedicated to the fact that getting drunk made the pain and confusion of life go away. In spite of all evidence to the contrary, that was the belief I was holding on to. I checked around every corner of the studio as I walked in carrying my twelve pack. It was just after 8pm. Nothing jumped out to get me by the time I reached my spot on the tracking room floor, so I relaxed a little.

I watched the cold puff of air and heard the pop of the can lid as I opened my first 12 ounces. I didn’t lift the can off the floor. I did not take a drink. I waited, listening to the sounds of the room. Zzzzzzzzzz, Hhhhhhhhhhhmmmmmmmmmmmmm.

And then there was no sound. The last thing I wanted to do was look up. I stared at the can as sweat beads rolled down the aluminum. The silence didn’t go away. If I had waited a hundred years, the silence would wait with me. I knew Jesus was in the room with me, yet He said nothing. He waited for me. The ugly, smoke filled cloud was there again. The first century Messiah was looking at me. I knew He was waiting for me to say or do something. I looked into the eyes of Jesus and said “Lord, what is that thing?”

“That’s your soul.” He replied. “That’s your soul.” Like an atomic bomb to the brain, my world fractured into a thousand million pieces.

I gasped for air, but it wouldn’t come. I struggled onto all fours, my face to the floor. After what seemed like minutes my chest heaved full of oxygen. And then the tears came. Snot flew from my nostrils. My eyes burned. I fell back onto the concrete and wailed. That horrible, frightening thing was me. I did not, could not, look back up. I didn’t want to see or know. Is this truth? I didn’t need to ask the question out loud; I already knew the answer.

[illumynare]

How the Enneagram explains all of Ford and Stan’s problems

….well, most of them, anyway.

So in my ongoing quest to learn all personality typing systems ever, I’ve recently started reading about the Enneagram, and it struck me that Ford and Stan both fit extremely neatly into the system, and it provides a great framework for analyzing why these two idiots can love each other so much and yet continually hurt/trigger/drive each other crazy.

(descriptions taken from the Enneagram Institute website, not linked because apparently that means this post won’t show up in the tags??)

Stan: Type 2, “The Helper”

The Caring, Interpersonal Type: Generous, Demonstrative, People-Pleasing, and Possessive

Twos are empathetic, sincere, and warm-hearted. They are friendly, generous, and self-sacrificing, but can also be sentimental, flattering, and people-pleasing. They are well-meaning and driven to be close to others, but can slip into doing things for others in order to be needed. They typically have problems with possessiveness and with acknowledging their own needs. At their Best: unselfish and altruistic, they have unconditional love for others.

Basic Fear: Of being unwanted, unworthy of being loved Basic Desire: To feel loved

This is Stan in a nutshell: somebody who loves deeply and unconditionally, sacrifices himself without a second thought, but also easily becomes possessive, and whose “helper” actions are often in some way an attempt to earn people’s love. He rescues Waddles from the pterodactyl so that Mabel will stop being mad at him, and he rescues Ford from the portal hoping that will restore the relationship they had as children. It’s not that Stan doesn’t genuinely care about Mabel or Ford’s suffering, it’s just that, on some level, he’s always trying to earn the love of the people he cares about.

Ford: Type 4, “The Individualist”

The Sensitive, Introspective Type: Expressive, Dramatic, Self-Absorbed, and Temperamental

Fours are self-aware, sensitive, and reserved. They are emotionally honest, creative, and personal, but can also be moody and self-conscious. Withholding themselves from others due to feeling vulnerable and defective, they can also feel disdainful and exempt from ordinary ways of living. They typically have problems with melancholy, self-indulgence, and self-pity. At their Best: inspired and highly creative, they are able to renew themselves and transform their experiences.

Basic Fear: That they have no identity or personal significance Basic Desire: To find themselves and their significance (to create an identity)

Feeling vulnerable and defective, yet disdainful and exempt from ordinary ways of living: if you looked up “Stanford Filbrick Pines” in the dictionary, that’s the first thing you’d see. People have argued a lot about whether Ford is arrogant and how much, but I don’t think that’s actually the most helpful way to analyze his character. Ford has, at different times, considered himself a genius, a fool, a hero, a puppet; but what never changes is that he’s obsessed with the question of his own identity, and driven by the fear he’s either a freak or a non-entity. Even at the end of Journal 3, when he finally starts to chillax, he doesn’t abandon the question of his identity and say, “Who cares if I’m a hero or not.” Instead he chooses a new identity: “I’m a hero’s brother, and I’m okay with that.”

So how does this explain their problems?

Because, as much as these two dumb idiots love each other, they have primal fears that are often at cross-purposes, and that make them hypersensitive to each other’s worst tendencies. Stan fears being unloved and alone, and at his most desperate he is willing to do anything—including literally immolate his identity—to keep his loved ones around him, or bring them back. Ford fears having no separate identity or personal significance, and at his most desperate he is willing to do anything—including cut his twin out of his life, and summon unknown spirits of insane power—to grasp that identity.

This is why I think that, even if the whole science fair debacle had never happened, they would have still had some kind of major rift. They both grew up bullied by other children, emotionally abused by their father, and without any kind of support network or healthy relationship models; I don’t think either of them had the resources, at that point, to deal with their issues in a healthy way. Stan would have tried to cling to Ford no matter what, without realizing Ford experienced it as suffocation; Ford would have tried to strike out on his own no matter what, without realizing that Stan experienced it as complete rejection.

And this dynamic is also what drives their conflict after Ford comes back through the portal. I’m thinking, particularly, of their scene at the end of “Tale of Two Stans”:

Ford: Okay, Stanley, here’s the deal. You can stay here the rest of the summer to watch the kids. I’ll stay down in the basement and try to contain any remaining damage. But when the summer’s over, you give me my house back, you give me my name back, and this Mystery Shack junk is over forever. You got it?

Stan: You really aren’t gonna thank me, are you? Fine. On one condition: you stay away from the kids; I don’t want them in danger. Cause as far as I’m concerned, they’re the only family I have left.

A lot of people have interpreted this scene as Ford planning to kick Stan out of his life and onto the streets (and written angsty fanfics accordingly). This may indeed be how Stan saw it, but I don’t think that’s a fully accurate perception. A moment before this, they’re laughing about being old men. Ford’s voice in delivering his ultimatum doesn’t read as angry or cold so much as somebody trying to put his foot down.

I think the key to Ford’s speech is the implicit link between “you can stay here the rest of the summer” and “I’ll stay down in the basement.” Ford is primarily thinking about the issue of his stolen identity: there can only be one Stanford Pines, so while he’s willing hide himself away and let Stan keep playing the role for the rest of the summer, he wants to be Stanford Pines again. He wants his own identity, and to have a say in what goes on in his house. Which is completely reasonable!

But of course, Stan is approaching this conversation from a completely different direction. He’s spent thirty years trying to save Ford, not just because of his own guilt but also because he wants their relationship back: think of how he throws his arms wide and shouts “Brother!” when Ford steps through the portal. From Stan’s point of view, Ford is saying that everything Stan suffered and accomplished is still not enough to earn his love. Which is why Stan lashes out, having finally reached the limits of his willingness to martyr himself. Objectively, it’s kind of terrible to disown your brother for not saying “thank you,” but in context it completely makes sense for Stan to react this way. (And honestly, it’s really good that he has managed to discover ONE boundary, even if he’s being petty about it.)

….but of course, Ford still doesn’t understand what’s going on in his brother’s head, so he interprets Stan’s anger as something along the lines of “how dare you want to make decisions, you should just live in my basement for the rest your life to make me happy.” Which in turn drives his hostility and posturing in later episodes (like the DD&MD game—yes, Ford was swept away by enthusiasm, but I think he was also very much trying to mark his territory when he covered the TV room in graphs.) And that just escalates Stan’s hurt and anger, creating his determination Not To Care even when the world is ending and Ford is a prisoner, and culminating in the Zodiac Fight which is hands-down the pettiest thing either of them has ever done.

What saves them is Dipper and Mabel, who remind them it’s possible for two radically different siblings to work together—and who give them something to care about outside their own tumultuous dyad. Threatened by the loss of Dipper and Mabel, they find they can still trust and understand each other well enough to pull off a desperate, last-minute con. In one way, their final gambit seems to echo their earlier patterns: Stan burns up his identity to save his family, Ford grimly makes a choice that will cut him off from his brother. But there’s an important difference: Stan doesn’t expect to get anything back from this, not admiration from the kids or love from his brother, because he doesn’t expect to be himself after. He burns the dream of the Stan-o-War along with all the rest of his memories. Ford, on the other hand, gives up all claim to being the hero, The Man Who Killed Bill Cipher; more than that, he trusts Stan to carry out that role for him.

And that’s how, after everything, they’re able to reconcile and be at peace with each other.

[iphoenixrising]

Check, Please WIP: Part 1-4

AHL!Bitty

I’m going to hell, but… Parse, Bitty, and Jack or PB&J as I’ve seen it, have some wonderful stories in the fandom, and tbh I’ve come to look at Kent Parsons very differently thanks to a few. You can probably check them out on my Ao3 bookmarks and such. 

Notes: 

I know shit all about hockey but damn if I don’t love Check, Please! Not everything is accurate and some details are mine. Like, I’m just going to pretend the Bruins aren’t in Providence, and the Pawtucket Rebels are the AHL team. 

But then, what if Jack and Bits didn’t get that kiss at the end of Jack’s graduation? What if they just stayed the best of friends, pining away at one another until Kent Parson comes back into Jack’s life. Now it’s not just Jack pining, it’s Kent too :D

And, well, after winning the Championship his senior year, bringing that back to Samwell, Eric Bittle might just think he hasn’t had enough Hockey after all.

Really, it’s time to put up or shut up.

** Pro

Of all the things on Kent Parson’s Wish List (winning the Stanley Cup, being on a team he loves, playing hockey for the rest of his life, having a pet and Kit meets all those criteria for so much cute and cuddly), getting his friendship back on track with Jack Zimmermann hadn’t moved down from number 1, ever. 

Things changed after that disaster at his college frat house, then later in Zimm’s first season with the Falconers, Kent wasn’t sure it could even be a wish. 

When it came to hockey, things were always too easy. They never had to talk about it, about what they were doing on the ice. All of that just came like breathing. Parse and Zimms, Zimms and Parse. The whole Zimmermann-Parson No-Look One-Timer was never something they discussed, it was something that just happened. 

On the ice, they were unbeatable, just like in Juniors.

Off the ice...was a different story. 

(Sometimes he dreams about it, finding Jack passed out on the bathroom floor of the hotel, foaming at the mouth, panic and adrenaline hitting Kent hard when he’s pretty sure his best friend, the man he almost-kind of-sometimes loves, is going to die on this floor.)

Jack’s problem with pills started early, around the time he and Kent got serious enough to play for scouts that started coming around with the promise of watching the son of Bad Bob. 

(He was always partially to blame for Jack’s downfall. Kent had been the closest to Jack back then, had seen the signs, had tried to pull him back whenever he could, had been the one to ease Zimms down before every game, to be the one sitting in a corner with the bigger Canadian, running his hands over Jack’s shoulders and holding his hands, checking his breathing, helping him work through the anxiety.)

But, but!

That’s all old history, something Jack probably never wants to revisit ever again (because he cut you out of his life so well–), even when he makes it to the Falconers. 

(After that disaster at his school, well, no wonder.)

And Kent just has to deal with that, has to accept it finally, and just move on. 

(He could have been an Ace, just that fast, playing with Kent’s team of awesome guys. And fuck did it hurt when Jack turned him down flat...)

Until this little shit came along.

** 1

Eric Bittle realizes he’s severely messed up when he doesn’t kiss Jack Zimmermann at graduation. 

For two years, they’ve played hard hockey for Samwell, have gotten close, becoming best friends. They’ve held checking clinics, hugged tightly in cellys, watched boring as hell history documentaries on that god-awful green couch, and pulled each other back from the brink of insanity during midterms and finals. They’ve spent time in the kitchen with Bitty cooking and Jack working at the table. They’ve spent time outside in the quad, bullshittin’ like the oldest friends, chirpin’ back n’ forth like they’re two peas in a pod. 

Jack somehow started being his best friend without even trying. 

The last game showed him how close they’d become when he’s going through the empty rink, making it to the loading dock, just a flash of jersey leading him to Jack hunched over, tears in his eyes. 

The utter agony right there had gone through Bitty like lightning, driving him forward to hop up on the pallets Jack was sitting on, and wrap both arms around those wide shoulders, hold on to ‘im as tight as he can. 

“It ain’t your fault, Jack. You did so good with us. I’m so proud of you, honey, you have no idea. You worked so hard, so hard, Jack.”

“Bits,” is soft and sad, Jack choking a little, but those big arms come around him, crush him against Jack’s chest and the pads he’s still wearing. 

“I know, I know. Sometimes it just isn’t in the cards, no matter how hard we fight. You get that, don’t you? Sometimes it just is what it is.”

“I can’t–” accept that is what Jack wants to say. 

“I know it’s hard, but sometimes all the trainin’ and plannin’ and best of intentions just aren’t enough to tip the scales in your favor.”

And Jack seems to get something there, tightens his arms a little more, and holds on. 

It’s a little while later when Jack’s stopped shaking like a leaf, “I wanted to bring home a Championship. Wanted to make my mark on Samwell.”

“Of course you did–”

“Thought after all this time, everything I owe Samwell and the team, bringing me here, giving me this second chance–”

“Oh Jack,” at this juncture, Bittle’s head is under Jack’s chin. 

“I finally felt like I’d stopped fucking up,” is rough and dark in the quiet of the rink. “I thought coming to Samwell was a...a punishment. I dealt with it because I thought my life was going to start after, when I finished up my degree and got back into the Draft. But that’s...that’s not how it happened. My life started the minute I met you and the team and I remembered why the hell I love hockey so damn much in the first place.”

And if maybe a few slow, shameful tears escaped Bitty, well, no one would ever know.

But they got even closer as Jack’s graduation loomed, and Eric Bittle stayed in his own personal hell of loving Jack so much it ached, but helpless to stay away to protect himself. 

Instead, when Jack pauses at his door, Bits knows what he needs and finds space to lounge on Jack’s bed, scrolling through Twitter while Jack talks about the negotiations with NHL teams or works on his last assignments. 

Watching Jack pack his things, preparing for the Falconer’s training camp, getting ready for the next stage of his life, all of it makes Bits so dang proud and so sad at the same time.

But, well, nothin’ lasts forever, now does it.

When Jack ran all the way back to the Haus just to see him, just to pull him in hard for a desperate last hold, it was all Bits could do to stop from sobbing his heart out.

“–and you’re coming to Providence this summer to stay with me for a while, and-and I’ll be down when I can. You’re going to Skype me all the time. Bits, promise me. All the time.”

“Okay, Jack. Okay.”

Something soft in French that he has no idea what it could possibly mean, but he absolutely imagines Jack pressing a kiss in his hair. 

“I’m sorry, Bits, but I have to go. I...I’ll text you, okay?”

“Okay,” is more watery than he’d like, but he can look up in Jack’s blue, blue eyes and at least feel warm that he’s had this man for as long as he has. When Jack’s hands slide out of his, he somehow doesn’t feel like he’s losing anything at all. 

** 2

And just like that, Jack takes a step in his life he never could have predicted. Like an hour away instead of across the hall is enough to keep holding on, enough that Jack comes to Madison over the summer, enough that he asks Bitty to show him how to use FaceTime and SnapChat. 

It’s enough for Jack to pick him up off his feet every time they meet up and bury his face in Bitty’s hair. It’s enough for Jack to Skype almost nightly while he’s tuckered out in his bed, talking about the joys and pitfalls of being a professional athlete. 

It’s enough that he gets to meet the Falconers long before preseason starts, and the amount of pies he brings is literally obscene.

(It all works out just fine in the end because he goes home with the empty pans. Not a single slice left.)

It’s enough when Jack talks more about life than hockey sometimes, and Bitty is utterly helpless to stop any of it. And it’s funny, he thinks, how he was sure Jack would just flitter out of his life after a while. That they would be reduced to a Skype call once a week maybe when they find the time, then once a month, then not at all, moving into texting once and a while until Jack would be nothing more than one of his best memories of Samwell. 

It’s funny how he thought Jack moving into the NHL, moving to Providence, moving out of the Haus, moving on with his life, would mean also moving on from Eric Bittle.

And my, how wrong he was about all that.

Watching Jack play with the Falconers from the stands with the Stanley Cup on the line is not really where he’d thought he’d be once Jack had graduated. 

But, if anything else, they’ve gotten even closer than before. 

And when the buzzer finally sounds and the Falconers win it, he’s among the crowd running out on the ice for the biggest celly of the year. 

Jack spots him immediately, grabs him up with a victorious roar, and skates around people holding Bitty like a favorite toy until Tater scoops him up from Jack yelling about “Nook pies!”

Marty skates by him, ruffling his hair with something twinkling in his eye. Thirdy hauls him up, too, though Bitty has no idea why all these hockey players are just throwing him around when they’ve just won the Stanley Cup, but he still thinks it’s awful nice of them to include him in their celebration.

He doesn’t go back to Georgia for the summer after all or the next one before he starts his senior year, but goes between staying in Jack’s guest room and the Haus instead. His Mama’s not happy about it at all, but he’s a grown man, so that’s all she can say about that.

So Bitty passes the summer of his Senior year training with Jack or at Faber when the ice is up for grabs, works on some chapters for his someday cookbook, and continues his vlog so everyone can see how superior filo is to choux in the right circumstances.

With the season over after winning the Cup, Jack is over at the Haus more than ever if Bitty’s not in Providence already staying in his guest room. 

It should be strange to answer the door at the Haus on Saturday morning during the summer and see Jack there in his trainers, sweats, and t-shirt, wanting to hang out for the day after he’d put in a few hours at the Falc’s stadium already. 

(“C’mon, Bits. Can’t slack during the summer. You’re the captain. Set an example.”

“Jack, it’s summer. Leave me alone until at least nine am for goodness sake!”

“Not going to happen, bud.”)

It should be strange riding the train or in the passenger seat of Jack’s SUV on their way to Providence while he fiddles with the music and Jack doesn’t complain about the selection. 

It should be strange to wake up on Jack’s couch, laying on a broad shoulder with a heavy arm flopped around Bitty’s waist and logs being sawed in his ear.

It should be strange to know Jack’s kitchen better than the back of his hand, and to be giddy every time there’s a new utensil bought with him in mind.

(“Jack, why in the world would you need a dough scraper of all things?” “Not for me, Bits.”

“O-Oh!”

“Yeah. Thank Tater. He went with me this time. He held up that and said, ‘oh does B have one of these? It looks important.’ I didn’t know so I bought it in case.”)

It should be strange to see Jack’s Skype requests almost every night before bed, or have his former captain sprawled out in Bitty’s full sized bed once Lardo, Ransom, and Holster are already moved out and the new Waffles are well into the first semester of his senior year.

(“Good Lord, Jack, scoot over!”

“Mm.” Jack scootches maybe a foot more so Bitty can climb in beside him, already yawning. “Comfy, bud?”

“Gettin’ there,” and he absolutely ignores how much easier he falls asleep when Jack throws a heavy arm over him.)

It should be strange for Jack to whip him on up in a big hug when he admits the boys voted him as the Captain, and Jack breathes out, “damn right,” too close to his ear.

(“I don’t know if I can do this, Jack.”

“Too bad, Bits. Looks like you’re already doing it.”)

It should be strange for Jack to chirp him about his thesis, about his struggle with Whiskey, about why this darn strudel just won’t turn out right.

(“Jaques Laurant Zimmermann, do not make me ground you from pie.”

“Haha. I know you wouldn’t do that, bud.”

“Oh? Don’t be so sure, Mister.”)

It should be strange to get an earful when his new video comes out and Jack had no idea the jam war was that serious while Bitty has been supplying the Falconers for nearly a year. 

(“Are you kidding? Aunt Judy is really that upset?”

“You have no idea, honey. It’s almost World War III down there.”

“Good thing you’re stuck at Samwell.”

“Good thing is right! I don’t want any part of that mess.”)

But somehow it never is. Strange, that is, to have Jack so much. Even though nothing could happen between them (“Never fall for a straight boy.”), Bitty still can’t let go of Jack, can’t deny him, can’t tell him no, can’t be the one that fails to respond when Jack reaches out for him. 

Even when Kent Parson shows up at a Falcs game and cheers himself hoarse, screams for Jack right there on live TV.

And while trying to get through his dang senior year, trying to get his team to the Eastern Conference, he watches how Jack and Kent start to move back in one another’s orbit.

...which is probably why he doesn’t tell Jack anything about the scouts from the AHL coming to see him after the game with Princeton.

** 3

The Pawtucket Rebels manager, Michael McLean, is the one that meets Bitty with a Standard Player Contract the morning he gets back from Jack’s place when they’re going to be starting in the Frozen Four if they win the next two games.

The weekend away was nice, but he hadn’t been expecting Jack’s intention to introduce him to Kent Parson of the Las Vegas Aces. 

“We’ve already met,” Bitty had filled in, still shaking Kent’s hand with a distant smile on his face, “at the Haus party when he swung on by.”

“Not my best moment,” the Captain admits sheepishly, eyes not meeting Bitty’s, and dang it if the boy ain’t at least a little bit cute. 

“I suppose we all have our days,” Bits just drawls out and gives him a wink. He holds out the plate of fresh cookies as some kind of peace offering. 

The weekend was still nice, being caught up in Kent’s manic energy and Jack’s easy acceptance. But, he starts seeing the signs pretty easily, when Jack’s hand goes to Kent’s shoulder after a good joke, the exchanged glances that linger, the slowly dwindling personal space that used to be there for them. How they start finishing each other’s sentences, and oh, doesn’t it just make his heart give a little beat when he sees them both happy. 

(But doesn’t that just break it at the same dang time. Not only does Jack like men, but he’s already got his sights set on his old boyfriend. It’s almost enough to make a grown man cry. Bitty consoles himself after breaking down in his room on Sunday when Jack and Kent dropped him off at the Haus. Only Senor Bun knew how much he’d ugly cried himself out that night.)

When Mr. McLean gives him the contract to peruse and a business card with his information circled in blue pen, Bitty almost picks up his phone to call Jack, talk about what he would need other than a lawyer to go over this thing. 

He thinks about Kent and calls Coach and Mama the next morning instead, promises to send scanned copies of the contract. Mama asks if this is something he really wants to think about doing after graduation. 

“It’s money, Mama, a lot of money, and who knows? Hockey might not be outta my heart just yet. I’ll still have time for everything else.”

He only feels a little bit bad when Jack Skypes him on a roadie, set-up in a hotel, asks how his darn thesis is going, and promises to be at the next home game. 

Kent joins the call while Bits is slid down all snug and sleepy-eyed, kids around with him by making kissy faces. 

“College is brutal, Bits. You aren’t sleeping enough.”

“Well, now that’s life, ain’t it?”

Bitty knows something’s going on between them because Kent is shaking a finger at the screen and lecturing him about procrastination while Kit snoozes on. He’d only known if Jack told him about it.

“Bits, your thesis is basically about baking. Baking is the thing you love that isn’t hockey.”

“That doesn’t make it any easier,” Bitty slurs tiredly, wondering how he’s talking to the man that’s swiping his unrequited crush right out from under him even though he doesn’t even feel too bad about it. Not when he sees how good Kent is for Jack now, even if that hadn’t always been the case.

(Long as it makes Jack happy, I can endure it. It’s tough, but I’m tougher.)

But really. Kent Parson is so different from his image as the Captain of the Aces, Bitty can’t help but genuinely like the man. 

“I’m so jealous. I love peppermint cookies and I’ve never gotten any sent to me!”

Sleepy time Bitty makes a note of that even when the world fuzzes out a little bit more.  

“God, he’s so cute, Zimms.”

“Euh. He really is, Kenny. We should hang-up and let him sleep.”

Or he might of just dreamed that part.

The Aces have a hard game coming up, and he’s got his outline done, so the Haus is finally going to let him alone long enough to bake one single, solitary pie. In the middle of it, he certainly doesn’t expect Jack to show up with a six pack of Molson Blue, apparently assuming they’re going to watch it together and cheer on Kent.

“But I expect you to cheer for the Falcs when it comes down to us and the Aces, Bits.”

“Oh honey, I always root for the underdog anyhow.”

The chirp makes Jack flop back on his bed and laugh hard enough for tears to be in his eyes. Bitty just goes back to the Aces on his laptop and drinks Jack’s awful beer with a smirk.

He stirs a little from sleep to Jack talking softly beside him in bed since “It’s too late to drive back to Providence tonight. Move over, bud.”

He mutters something maybe, sighing instead when fingers comb through his hair. 

“That W was perfection, Parse. You were skating your best life out there, eh?...sleeping right now. Yeah, senior year is a pain in the ass...you bet I miss you. Three weeks, we’ll be close enough to Vegas...yeah, I’ll try to get him to come along, but the Wellies are getting closer to the Championship...he would kill to bring it home for the boys.”

But he probably imagined all that, too. 

Still, he’s got a short break before the next round of games, and just five days until his deadline to let Mr. McLean have his answer when Jack shows up at the Haus and is apparently confused why Bitty isn’t packed for Vegas.

“What do you mean we’re going to Las Vegas, Jack?!” Because this is the first he’s heard about it, and how does Jack already have a plane ticket for him?

“Come off it, bud. If I go there without you, Kenny will never forgive me.”

“How does he even know I don’t have a game?” He frets while putting sleep shorts in a suitcase, wonders if he should bring one of his suits since Jack is already wearing one. 

Jack’s brows scrunch together, “Don’t you talk to him on that–that bird one? All the time? He says he always reads your updates.”

He pauses with a pair of boxer briefs and gives Jack his very best unimpressed expression, “Jack, sweet pea, please tell me you didn’t just refer to Twitter as that bird one?” He carefully does not say anything about Kent Parson checking his Twitter updates.

The soft smile and shrug in reply answers that now doesn’t it.

“I swear, what would you do without me,” he sighs, a little throb of love getting caught in his chest, and he just busies himself right on past it, going for at least one pair of flip flops probably buried under mounds of winter gear. 

“Honestly? If I didn’t have you these last few years, maybe it would have been like what happened when I was in the Q,” Jack leans back on his elbows on Bitty’s bed, right beside the suitcase he’s quickly trying to pack. Being stuck between two button-ups, biting his bottom lip because he’s already bringing so much takes a backseat when Jack mentions the days he was in Juniors, and Bitty feels his eyebrows raise. 

“When we started checking clinics, you and me, that was the most...balanced I ever started feeling after all that. The, ah, overdose. That...that might have been where I ended up if it hadn’t been for you and Samwell.”

With a breath (because Lord, here was Jack finally talking about it, in such a soft tone, his eyes so very blue, and just! Well, he’s not made of stone and this is Jack), he scoots the suitcase back and plops right down on the bed, reaching for Jack’s hand. He carefully looks at the closed door and rubs those big fingers with his thumb.

“You honestly think you would have made those same mistakes without me, Jack?” He tries to be nice about it, “because I sure as heck don’t.”

His fingers tighten around Bitty’s, a squeeze, a soft thank-you.

“I mean, I didn’t know you back then, so I can’t say who you were, but there are some parts of that Jack left in the one I know now. And the Jack I know now is someone that knows how to lead his team, and takes care of them, who knows how to inspire them. The Jack I know got up extra early just to help this hopeless case learn to overcome his fear and be able to play hockey better than he ever could have before. You helped me not just be able to take the check, but I’m a captain, a center, and I earned it because of you. The Jack I know is selfless in so many ways and selfish in just the right ones, and dang it, he’s my best friend, so you better not say anything else like that about him again.”

The bed shifts under him when Jack sits up, a big hand coming up to palm the side of Bitty’s face so Jack can lean his forehead in, look straight at him from just inches away with those stupidly big blue eyes, and be so warm and just Jack. 

“You were never hopeless, Bits,” and with his voice that low, being this close, Bitty feels his cheeks getting warm, his eyes helplessly sliding down to Jack’s mouth.

The errant thought Vegas, we’re going to Vegas shakes him out of the moment, and he pats Jack’s forearm, gently pulling back from the very intense, heart-stopping moment where his brain almost killed him when it told him to just go on and kiss Jack.

But his brain also knows it would probably be the last thing he’d ever do with Jack because Jack has Kent for that now, doesn’t he?

Mentally shaking himself, Bitty stands quickly, goes back to his suitcase, “All right, now for heaven’s sake, Jack, help me here. I’ve never been to Las Vegas–”

And it’s not nearly as hot in Georgia as it is in Las Vegas when they get off the plane, but everything else about it is incredible. 

(He doesn’t think about how nice it was to ride next to Jack on the plane, talking strategy and the team, the upcoming games and new plays they might bring to the ice. It’s nice to hear about the Falcs eating his peanut butter and jelly sandwiches with hollers for more. The pies never last long and cookies are always a favorite.)

He might have worried for about a minute, fiddling with the Uber app on his phone to update his location, but Jack just lays a hand on his back and guides him out of the terminal. 

“Don’t worry about it, Bits, we’ve got a ride.”

And standing by a stunning red Ferrari is Kent Parson himself, grinning wide under his sunglasses.

“Oh my,” even if it’s a little breathless, he gives himself an out here because wow, it’s a nice car. 

(And he is not at all looking at Kent’s bare arms or muscled calves. Absolutely not. He’s already got one heartache, thank-you very much.)

He still squeaks a little when Kent literally picks him up off his feet and swings him around.

“There’s my guys! Falconers and Rebels!” Kent yells for half the airport to hear. 

Jack blinks and Bitty groans softly.

Those blue eyes aren’t accusing him of anything, but it’s that same confused look when he tries to figure out if the next song is Destiny’s Child or Queen Bey herself.

“Rebels?”

He doesn’t wince, but it’s a close thing.

“I’ll...tell you about it later.” He waves off, deflecting perfectly, and snaps up his luggage again now that he’s on his feet.

“Oh,” Kent looks from him to Jack and back to him, and his mouth opens probably to say something else no one else needs to hear.

“Thank-you for coming to pick us up, by the way,” he starts rambling right on, “I’ve never been to Las Vegas before. And we’re even going to watch a game? How exciting! Should I make something for your team? A good luck something maybe? Is there a grocery store close to your house? Can we stop? Maybe I could do a few apple pies and a strawberry one...?”

“You can make me food all day, B,” Kent smiles so wide and white down at him and just swipes his bag right up out of Bitty’s hand like it weighs nothing at all. “My favorite pie is peach, just in case you were wondering.”

Bitty slaps him right on the arm, absolutely offended. “Kenneth Virgil Parson the Third, like I wouldn’t already know what your favorite pie is! Why of all the nerve!”

And that is how Bitty talked himself right out of the AHL conversation with Jack. At least, for the time being. 

**

In the end, he makes two apples, two strawberries, and three peach pies, one for Kenny to keep at home.

Jack mutters under his breath about the Falcs needing a peach pie, and Bitty can absolutely do that once they get back home. 

The boys are wonderful at keeping him company in Kent’s big kitchen while he works, staying out of his way unless he directs them. 

“It’s not going to be a super exciting game. The Schooners are old rivals since before I came to the Aces,” Kenny shrugs, fish oven mitts on, and his own apron is really just Kit’s face blown up on a white background.

But the man’s fish oven mitt is–

Wait for it

– named Fish.

Because Kent is a master at naming things, obviously.

Kit Puurson is laying on the kitchen table from where Bitty banished her from walking along the counters while he’s baking.

“Now, don’t sell it short, sugar pie,” Bitty replies absently, makes the lattice on the last pie perfect. The A in the center is going to be great once the pie finishes baking. “It’s going to be exciting to see you play live no matter what.”

“Aw,” and Kent is smiling all nice at him now that he probably knows Bitty’s not gunning for his boyfr- for Jack, “you’re just saying that because it’s true.”

“Of course I am, Kent. It is true.”

“Any time you get bored of watching the Falcs, all you have to do is call me, Bits. I’ll have you on a plane in a hot minute,” and Bitty has to look over at him for that because it might have been a chirp at Jack, but the tone was a lil’ too serious for his taste.

“Who knows, Mister Parson, I might take you up on that someday.”

(When hell freezes over.)

“I hope so, Bits,” Kent’s eyes go to the masterpieces on the counter waiting for their turn in the oven, “I really hope so.”

*

At the game later that night, before the Aces take the ice, Bitty gets a Snap from Kent Parson. 

All the pie pans are licked clean. Not a crumb in sight.

Bitty sighs in unmitigated relief.

Even though he feels strange not wearing a Falconers or Samwell jersey when he’s at a hockey game, he can’t blame Jack for leaving their home team merchandise back in Providence. 

Earlier, Kent had tugged an Ace's jersey over his head and landed a cap as the cherry on top, winking at him while Jack was busy grumbling to himself about something or other. 

It feels odd to have someone’s name across his back other than his own (or frankly Zimmermann because Jack already gave him two hoodies and several other Falcs shirts, which was real kind of him, and they’re such nice clothes!), but his Mama would fly up from Georgia and whoop his butt good if she knew he’d refused a gift from a celebrity. 

So, even with Jack scowling, he accepts the jersey and hat for the game tonight.

He and Jack find their seats, right behind the bench, and it looks like they can finally settle in.

Jack keeps a running monologue of stats and predictions, leaning in to Bitty while eating the carrot sticks they'd packed in so Jack wouldn't be tempted with junk food.

This boy and his rigid schedule of cheat days. Honestly.

And Bitty is content to talk hockey and the upcoming season, is content to talk about the Samwell team and the next game coming up. 

He gets to watch Kent and the Aces make an opening lap around the rink to wave at their fans, laughs at the finger guns right in their direction.  

He settles on in to watch what will probably be a good game no matter what Kent said earlier, and of course, Jack chooses then to bring it up.

"Are you going to tell me about the Rebels anytime soon?” Jack is watching the game when he finally says it, something in his tone of voice that sounds a little closer to mad.

Bitty looks over, guilty as sin, and Jack looks back, all kind of calm.

“I...I didn’t make a decision or anything–” he starts then turns away from those blue eyes. “I-I should go get us something to drink! Jack, what do you want to–”

He’s halfway out of his chair, but Jack’s hand on his wrist stops him, pulls him back down to his seat.

“Don’t be mad!” Bitty sighs, loud and long, “I didn’t even know what to do when Mr. McLean came to see me.”

Jack hums, “You could have called your best friend who happens to be a professional hockey player.”

“That will be enough chirps outta you, Mister Zimmermann. You were already having a time with the changes to your medication, and I didn’t want to add anything else to your list.”

Jack guffaws at him, “that was two months ago, Bits, and my anxiety is under control. You could have told me anytime since then.”

“Well, I–” and Bitty has a moment where his mouth almost runs right away with him, and he almost tells Jack they ain’t datin’ so not everything has to be out in the open.

“You?”

And even though Kent has the puck, Jack’s eyes are all for Bitty.

“Jack,” he sighs, rubbing the bridge of his nose.

“You can tell me anything. You know that, right bud?” And that line between his eyebrows lets Bitty know Jack is actually concerned.

“Of course, Jack, I...I just. I don’t know, you’ve got your own career to worry about, and I don’t even know if I still want to play hockey after graduation, nonetheless with a team in the AHL.” He shrugs lamely, pretty sure Jack probably thinks he’s an idiot.

“There’s nothing wrong with that, Bits. You don’t have to make a decision right away.”

“Well, I’ve got about five days until he wants to know if I accept their offer,” Bitty rubs the back of his neck, cheeks pink. 

“Oh. Well, you should let me read the contract anyway, eh? At the very least, it could help you make a decision if the offer isn’t for much.”

“If– I mean, if you want to? That would be real nice.”

“Euh. Tomorrow morning after my run, we’ll look at it.” Jack gives a sharp nod like he’s accomplished something, pats Bitty on the shoulder, and goes back to the game, just as pleased as pie.

**

The win was really something for the Aces, and he gets to meet Swoops, Poots, Scrappy, and Gopher when Kent tells them the baker of the pies is at the game.

“Oh my God, I ate like three pieces,” Swoops pats him on the shoulder and laughs.

“I’m so glad you enjoyed it!”

“Oh totally. Gopher can’t help himself around sweets, so you might get a marriage proposal if you aren’t careful.”

“O-oh my! That’s mighty sweet, but I would hate to have to break his poor heart.” Bitty laughs a little and doesn’t notice how Jack’s eyes narrow. 

It’s entertaining as all get out when Jack groans at the amount of chirps he’s already gotten for being a Falc instead of an Ace.

“He’s got important...things in Rhode Island,” Kent had finally said to his team, which Bitty did not understand at all.

(But, it does make sense. Jack wants to stay close to Shitty and everyone from Samwell. He couldn’t be part of their nearly everyday lives if he had joined the Aces.)

They drop by Kent’s house to change clothes, and head out to celebrate the victory with the team, and all that fluttering around his room at the Haus is suddenly worth it when he looks damn good in his button-up with a black tank top underneath and a pair of shorts that look like they’ve been painted on his ass.

When he comes downstairs, Kent wolf whistles and Jack gets red in the face.

“Are you sure–” Jack starts, a little stuttery that makes Bitty preen.

“Mister Zimmermann, it’s best you do not finish that sentence,” Bitty snipes with his nose in the air.

It’s absolutely satisfying when two very cute boys dance with him at the club, grinding on him and having a heck of a good time.

He doesn’t notice Jack’s sour face until the third or fourth song in, and by then, Kent is making his way through the crowd. 

The hand on his arm pulls him out from between two different boys, and Bitty is just about to give whoever it is what for, but Kent just shifts to grip his hips and pulls him in, back-to-chest. 

And Lord help him, Kent is an amazing dancer. How does he even get himself into these things?

** 

Watching his favorite person, favorite people, dance is giving Jack too many Ideas.

He already has plenty when it comes to Bits. Even more when it comes to Kenny since they have history to fall back on, but for Kenny and Bits? His brain might shut down because Jack is even more invested in that. 

(Kenny hasn’t said anything, but Jack knows him, knows what the look in those eyes means when he watches Bitty. Instead of Kenny trying to talk him into asking Bitty for a date, maybe Jack should be trying to do the same. Or-or talking about if all three of them…?)

As is, Jack has a lot more thinking to do after this trip.

“I swear I take care of him as much as he lets me,” Jeff is saying, “it’s not like it’s his first year anymore. He’s way past all that, Jack.”

“I know,” Jack downs his beer, tries not to be too irritated at Swoops because of the attitude. Since he and Kenny have been talking again, he knows more about that first year with the Aces and Kenny’s struggles after the Draft than he’d wanted to know at the time. He hadn’t wanted to focus on the difficulties his best friend was having with a new career as a professional athlete, was more concerned about getting himself through rehab. 

He’s been finding out about those struggles and bad times, feels better knowing about all the things he’d missed out on back then because that means Kenny is talking to him again.

(“You cut me out!” Still haunts Jack sometimes when he thinks about how he did that to his best friend, his other half. At the time, it had seemed like a trade he didn’t have any other choice but to make, give up his best friend for the chance to get better.)

Jeff was the Ace Kenny billeted with his first year, and the two are close. Maybe even closer than Jack and Kenny had been in the Q. 

He doesn’t deserve to be jealous of that, but somehow, he still is.

“I did him wrong when he was in the Draft,” Jack finally admits to Swoops, “and I’m glad he had you and the team there when he needed you. I just...I just want to make sure he’s okay. Kenny means a lot to me.”

Swoops raises a brow over the beer he’s drinking. “He was pretty torn up over you that first year, Zimmermann. If I could have, I would have found you and punched you right in the nose for that kid.”

Jack shrugs a shoulder, “would have deserved it.”

“Yeah, yeah you would have,” but it seems like the salt has gone out of Jeff’s spine, and he slumps down in his seat across from Jack. “I had to tell the team not to mention your name for a long time. Not gonna lie, when you got picked for the Falcs, I drove over to his place and stayed the night in case he had a breakdown.”

And oh does that hit Jack right in the heart. 

“But, he was...not okay but okay? He was happy for you, is the point.”

Jack’s heart twists painfully at that, “Euh. He’s a better friend than I deserve.”

“You know, he told me about going to your college, right?”

Jack looks Swoops in the face, thinks he might get a little more clarity about that night of the Epikegster.

“Yeah, he did,” because Jeff can read the tell me more on Jack’s face, “and he beat himself up about it for months. Told me he ran off at the mouth because he was angry at you. Hell, you weren’t even happy to see him.”

At the time, no. No, he wasn’t. 

“It was...a shock. We both said some pretty harsh things, I think. But, we’ve come a long way since then.”

“I’d say so. He can say your name without looking like he’s going to start crying now at least.”

Kenny…

“I’m not going to do that again,” Jack feels like he needs Jeff to know this. “He’s stuck with me this time, eh?”

Swoops laughs and raises his glass for Jack to tap with his own, “here’s hoping, Zimmermann. Here’s hoping. But hey, at least he has someone to help pick-up the pieces.”

**

Kent manages to get them through the throng of people at the bar and get them bottles of water, bracketing Bitty in with his arms to keep people around from jostling them.

They’re both sweaty and panting after the last song, and Bitty doesn’t even know how he managed to survive pretty much humping a professional hockey player on the dance floor without embarrassing himself.

“That was so fun,” Kent leans down to talk in his ear since they’re so close to the music, “can we dance some more?”

“Of course we can, honey,” Bitty tilts so he’s talking in Kent’s ear, and it presses them closer together, “but do you need to check in with your team?”

The laugh is low against his neck and Bitty almost, almost shudders.

“My guys are big boys, Bits. They’ll be fine without me mother-henning them to death.”

“Well, all right then, handsome. You’d better get me on out on that dance floor before someone else does!”

And it’s another song or so before they get a slow one. Kent manages to maneuver them into a corner, and pulls Bits in for a slow dance.

“Lord, that was fun,” Bitty doesn’t think much of it, his hands around Kent’s neck. “I don’t think I’ve had this much fun in a while.”

“I’m glad to hear it,” and Kent gives him that big ole’ smile that makes his whole face light up, and Bitty can’t really blame just one bit for just how cute Kent is in that moment. “I’m glad you came with Jack, Bits.”

“Me too. I had reservations with how close we’re getting to playoffs, but I’m glad I could take the time.”

The hands on his hips squeeze once, and Kent’s face falls, his eyes darting away.

Bitty moves a hand from around his neck to his face and turns him right on back. “Hey, what is it? Should we go?”

“N-no, no. I was just–” and Kent looks back at him with a frown, leans in a little to talk quieter. “Do you still hate me? From when I came to your college?”

And oh. Oh my.

Well, looks like they’re going to have this talk, aren’t they?

“I mean, it’s okay if you do. I was...a dick, okay? I was a complete and total dick. Zimms and I talked about it some, so-so he gets why I said some of the things I said because I mean, he just–and-and I… There’s a lot is all I’m saying. It was awful, not-not all of it, but therapy kind of helps a little? Sometimes it helps I mean, dealing with it when I found him like that, and then later when Big Bob–”

Bitty gently puts a hand over Kent’s mouth to shush him on up. 

“Kent, honey,” he tries softly, misses how those eyes get wide above his hand, “I understand how someone can say mean things when feelings are hurt, and it seems like you and Jack have mended fences since then, right?”

Kent nods without dislodging his hand, but his eyes are shiny and just oh, that poor boy. Jack had talked to him about those days back in Quebec with Kent Parson as his right-hand man, Bitty knows Kent is the one that saved Jack’s life during that overdose. He knows how quiet and strained Jack’s voice gets when he talks about it, can only imagine how terrified Kent had been finding him, performing CPR, getting him to the hospital in Bad Bob Zimmermann’s car.

He can’t touch that painful past for either of them, wishes sometimes he can give that back when he hears how wistful Jack sounds, sees how Kent sometimes looks like he has regrets. No, Bitty can’t fix their past for them, give them back their innocent days, but he can help the people they are in the here and now, can’t he?

“Well, that’s good to hear. What’s really important is that you don’t do that again, all right? Don’t take your anger out on Jack even if he might deserve it sometimes, and don’t ever say those horrible things to him again. Okay?”

Kent blinks at him and his eyes go softly half-mast. He finally nods with Bitty’s hand still over his mouth.

“Good. Then, we’re all fine, right?”

Another nod and a squeeze to his hips.

“Wonderful. Now Mister Parson, we are going to finish this song and then go back to your boys to celebrate. Maybe if we’re lucky, they’ll play ‘Crazy in Love’ later because that is one of my favorites.” He takes his hand away and grins up at Kent while his heart beats harder at the soft smile looking down on him.

“Good plan, B. If they play it, you can only dance with me, okay?”

“Well, when you put it like that, how can I refuse?”

Sure enough, the DJ plays ‘Crazy in Love’ and Bitty is pretty sure Kent’s the one that asked for it. That absolutely doesn’t mean he gives it any less ass shaking than it rightfully deserves.

**

He’s happy to see Jack laughing with Swoops and Poots when they finally tear themselves away from dancing, and Bitty absolutely refuses to drink whatever fruity thing Kent offers him because he’s not twenty-one quite yet, thank-you very much Mister Parson.

But the Aces are so nice when they leave, thanking Bitty again for his victory pies. He waves them off and doesn’t mind Jack’s hand at the small of his back when Kent guides them out.

(Later that night, he pretends he doesn’t hear Jack get up off the couch and walk down the hall to Kent’s room and softly close the door. But at that point, he’s not sure if he’s still a little jealous, or even who he’s really jealous of if he’s honest with himself.)

He eventually gets a few hours of sleep, and still wakes up god-awful early anyhow.

Since he’s been in this kitchen for three days already, he automatically puts on coffee and pulls out what he’s going to need to feed two big hockey players. 

He doesn’t even register Kent in the doorway watching him until the first cup of coffee is gone and the second is on the way there.

“Oh my Lord!” He fairly screams when he notices Kent watching.

“Sorry,” is totally unrepentant, the ass.

“You sure look it!” Bitty chirps back after his heart has climbed down out of his throat. “Goodness sakes, were you trying to give me a heart attack?”

“Nah, you just look cute in my kitchen, all busy and stuff. I like it.”

And well, that just takes the words right out of his mouth, so he goes back to make sure the bacon doesn’t burn while the quiche cools.

“Bits?!”

Jack is flustered and drenched from the shower, skittering almost right on the ground. He’s only got a towel around his waist and his hair is all over the place.

Bitty can resolutely say it’s the best morning in the history of mornings because that towel is awful short and Jack’s legs are awful long.

“I’m sorry! He just surprised me, we’re fine!” Bitty flaps his hands to shoo Jack out of the doorway. “Go on now and finish your shower. Breakfast is almost ready.”

Jack wipes water out of his eyes from his dripping hair and looks down at him silently.

“I promise, Jack. Go on now. Shoo! Naked is for the bathroom and the locker room.”

The slow grin is really just the nail in the coffin because no man should be that beautiful, it’s really not fair to the gay population. 

A glance at Kent’s shit-eating grin and he has to silently amend that statement. No men should be this beautiful.

While Jack trucks back down the hall, Bitty grabs paper towels to sop up the water he’d trailed, giving them up to Kent when he gets a frown for trying to clean up.

He tisks to himself and pours Kent a cup of coffee, mixing in the right amounts of cream and sugar, hands it to him when he throws away the wet paper towels.

He puts the bacon on another paper towel to get some of the grease while Kent sits down with his coffee. 

“I had so much fun last night. I can’t thank-you enough for taking us.” As he puts the quiche in the middle of the table.

“I had fun, too, B. Most the guys won’t dance no matter what, and you are awesome.”

“You’re not so bad yourself, sugar pie.”

Kent laughs at him, but reaches out to grip Bitty’s wrist before he can go back to the stove, “but, just so I know...you really don’t hate me anymore, right? We’re friends now?”

Oh, this must be the I need to tell you as Jack’s friend that me and him are datin’ talk. Lord, help him get through this conversation.

“Now, Kent. I already told you last night as long as you don’t hurt Jack like that again and have significantly groveled, we’re all fine.”

“Yeah, I know, but I mean, you and me. We’re fine, too, right?”

“Why of course we are.”

“Okay. Okay, good. I just wanted to make sure.”

Bitty pats Kent’s hand with the free one, “and you already know you can talk to me about anything, right? If things like that are bothering you, you can talk them out with me before you go and say something like that again, okay?”

“Yeah. Thanks, Bits.”

“You’re welcome, Kent.”

He retracts his hand with another pat and goes back for the bacon, waiting for the something else that might be on Mr. Parson’s mind.

“Bits?”

Mmhm. There is it. “Yes, Kent?”

“You...can call me Kenny, too...I mean, if you want.”

The bacon plate in hand, and Bitty turns to look at the pink cheeks on Kent Parson, the way he doesn’t meet Bitty’s surprised eye.

(Even with all his team and the press coverage, he’s only ever heard Jack call Kent ‘Kenny.’)

“All right then, Kenny,” and oh is he grinning, thinking about chirping him just for fun. “I think we’re just about ready for breakfast.”

Nothing else comes of it, and Bitty’s not sure if he’s relieved or not.

 **

Jack slowly, methodically reads through the scans of the Rebels contract he’s got back at Samwell. Kent reads over his shoulder, eyebrows squinty in concentration.

Lord, they look so cute like that. It’s really surprising no one else has picked up on the dating yet because these two are absolutely transparent.

“So–”

He gets twin wait a minute fingers. 

“Well fine then,” and he meanders in the kitchen to see if maybe he should make those peppermint cookies after all. 

A batch later and both boys come on in and sit at the table with the tablet between them.

Bitty absolutely puts the cookies in the middle and pours glasses of milk. Kent looks from the plate to him with wide eyes. 

Two seconds later, he’s already demolishing his third.

Boys.

“All right, you two. Give me the low-down.” Bitty waves a hand over his shoulder and starts washing up dishes.

Jack tells him how it seems to be a right fair offer for a rookie hockey player. The money could be better, but well, it ain’t too shabby. 

Bitty sighs because the money is utterly obscene. More than his scholarship to Samwell for all four years.

Kent has no problem finishing Jack’s thoughts when he trails off, longer in the profession than Jack. He gives more examples of what bad contracts would probably be and makes Bitty wonder if this isn’t his first time helping with these sorts of things.

Well, as Captain of the Aces, he probably has. Not to mention how he babies his rookies. 

“So,” Bitty finally bites on his lip, looking down at the tablet, “so if...if I wanted to keep playing hockey after graduation. This is a good opportunity, is what you’re tellin’ me.”

Both Jack and Kent nod at him, serious as a heart attack.

“This is a good opportunity, Bits.”

“But,” Kent looks at him seriously, “we aren’t agents, either. This is from our experience. For a professional opinion, I can suggest some guys, so can Jack, that can haggle the contract for you.”

He stands at the sink with soapy hands braced on the edges, just looking out the window into Kent’s nice backyard. 

Kit is lounging on a dishtowel right there on the ledge to get some sun.

And just like his worst tendency, Jack stands up with a cookie and saunters over to stand beside him, back against the counter.

“It’s a lot to take in, bud,” is all growly and soft.

“I never imagined playing hockey after this year,” he admits, “buying a bakery, sure. Learning under other chefs, maybe taking a turn in another culinary art, yes. But, professional hockey? Hell, I couldn’t take a check without passin’ out a few years ago, Jack.”

Jack munches on his cookie, watching Bitty’s profile with soft eyes. “True. But, couple years ago, you wouldn’t have thought you’d end up Captain, and be on your way to the Frozen Four, eh?”

Kent shuffles his feet a little but boosts himself up on the counter beside Jack. “The AHL is like, our version of boot camp, you know? The kiddie pool before you hit the NHL. And there’s a four-season standard for that reason, B. You’ve got four seasons to play your best game and see if the Scouts are interested. I mean, a lot of guys that get a bad break and don’t make it, they can renew their contracts every four years or join the practice teams. Guys that still want to play hockey, like a lot of the guys on the Rebs.”

“That offer is for one season, though.” 

“Sure,” Jack fills in, meandering back for another, handing one off to Kent. “It’s a chance to get your feet wet, Bits, see if you can make the first year. I didn’t get a four-year from the Falcs until I got through the probationary period.”

“Lucky they didn’t make you billet, Jack. That’s usually a requirement.”

“Nah, I was old enough. Marty and Tater kept up with me, though. And I had Bits,” Jack shrugs and promises himself this is the last one even as he eyes the full plate.

He glances over at the serious expression on Bitty’s face, thoughts turning behind his eyes because now he’s thinking about it. On one hand, yes, he wants his bud to stay close, be on their sister team’s roster. Pawtucket is only twenty minutes or so from Providence, even closer than Samwell. 

(Jack wouldn’t have to lose him if Bits accepts the offer, keeps playing hockey. Jack thinks he’s terrible for wanting that as much as he does.)

For Bitty, the eminent future is looking closer and closer as this year draws to a close. Getting this offer was terrifying because of all those what if’s?

Kent hums around a mouthful, leans around Jack to look at him. “Sure, but you never know, B. You take Samwell to the ECAC, and there might be more people coming to talk to you.”

“Sugar pie, I’ve seen what you and Jack are up against. If there’s one thing I’m absolutely sure of, it’s that I’m not ready for the NHL, no matter how far we go this year. But–” he sighs a little.

“But what, bud?” 

“...the real question is, what if I’m not ready to give it up once the season’s over?”

Kent chuckles at him around the last bite, “then you’ll have a year with the Rebels to figure out if you’re done with hockey, or not.”

He catches his breath a little (could it really be as simple as that?).

“...that’s what I needed to know, thank-you boys.” He pats Kent on the leg and Jack on the arm, taking up the tablet, swinging right around to go back to the stove and wait for the next batch, hip hitched on the cabinets while he reads all over again.

He’s going to call Coach and Mama when he gets back to Samwell. Then on Monday morning, he’s going to call Mr. McLean and accept the offer.

 ** 

It’s not his fault most the people he’s friends with are so much taller than him. 

Really, it’s not. 

So when Kent just grabs him up before he and Jack get on the plane and hugs him tight for long minutes, Bitty’s feet dangle off the ground, but he’s pretty much used to it by now. Shitty broke him of it first, Holster helped.

“I’m going to miss you,” is said against his shoulder because he thinks Kent might just be tearing up.

Because of Jack.

Because Jack’s leaving.

Right?

With his feet still dangling, he pats the back of Kent’s head soothingly. “I’ll miss you too, honey. But, it’s not forever, right? We’ll see you again.”

Kent eventually put him down when Jack laid a hand to his shoulder and turned him in for a hug, and Bitty looks away when Kent wraps himself around Jack like an octopus, shoulders shaking just a little. 

Jack makes soothing circles on Kent’s back, talks softly in French, and just holds on for a few long minutes. Bitty makes himself busy by checking their luggage tags and slips away to get them some coffee from one of the twelve Starbucks in the airport.

A caramel frappuccino helps a little, and Kent just sweeps him on up again.

Jack keeps a hand on the back of Kent’s neck until the very last second, and something in Bitty’s chest tightens a little, but for the very first time, he’s not sure if it’s for Jack touching Kent like that or if it’s for Kent being all upset they’re leaving.

Something to think about another day.

As is, he’s got a thesis to write, a team to take care of, and a pair of professional hockey players that need fresh baked goods. His plate is pretty much full.

** 4

His vlog has always been somewhere to vent when he needed to, and even if he doesn’t have a huge following with millions of subscribers (yet), he didn’t think things would turn out this way.

But, the school newspaper he usually ignores puts it right out there for everyone to read.

Eric Bittle of Samwell’s Own Hockey Team is the First Out Captain in the NCAA

Dex is there to put a hand on his shoulder when he feels like he suddenly can’t breathe.

Someone watched his vlog and picked up on a few things apparently (“Never fall for a straight boy.” Those words are going to haunt him forever). 

He’s out to the team, but not the rest of campus. Good Lord. Hopefully no one pays it any mind, and they can just ride right along to the next game.

It does not go away.

Instead, the news catches fire, and before he knows it, his face is on ESPN as the first out NCAA captain. The rainbow background isn’t doing him any favors, but in between the panic in his brain, he thinks the yellow of the spectrum looks real nice with those shorts.

Chowder is the one that calls him in to look at the breaking story, looking over the couch to take note of Bitty’s face. 

He shows how much his reflexes have improved when he throws himself over the couch and latches on when Bitty’s knees fail and he almost sprawls himself all over the floor. 

His phone is in his hand, and Chowder is talking, saying something. He didn’t know when Ollie and Wicks, Dex and Nursey, Tango and Whiskey and Foxtrot, River, Hops, and Louis all got there crowded around him, but he just seems to blink and there they all are.

“I,” he starts loudly, immediately quieting everyone with a single word, “am going to make a pie. Everyone is welcome to hang out while I am doing so.”

So, he makes a pie and while he does, he makes a plan.

He talks out how this could affect the team’s chances of getting to the Championship, how this could affect how they play, how they plan to win the next few games. Bitty thinks it might be smart to step down as captain, being pragmatic as possible now that he’s not panicking about finishing the season and his senior year at Samwell. 

Whiskey, who he hadn’t been able to connect with all darn season (more n’ likely because he found Whiskey at that party kissing the Lax bro), smashes his fist on the table and says that’s a whole lotta bull. Bitty’s the one that got them this far, and he’ll take them the rest of the way.

(Bitty still has several talks in the next few days. With the coaching staff, with Samwell administration, with the entire gathered team. He gives all of them the same option. He’ll give up being captain or all out quit the team if this would hurt their changes to go to the Frozen Four. He gets the same denial, loud and belligerent from his whole team –which warms his heart, honestly. They’re all such good boys.)

They decide to handle it one game at a time, and break for the night. In his room with coppery fear still in the back of his mouth, he holds his phone and stares at the contact information for Home. 

He’s almost pressed it when a FaceTime request comes from Kent.

Almost at the same time Jack doesn’t bother to knock, but just throws his bedroom door open, looking like he’d run miles.

Throwing himself to his feet, both hands up, he probably looks terrified because Jack scared the absolute heck out of him. 

“Bits,” and now it’s Jack that’s got both hands up, coming at him, “Bits, it’s okay. It’s okay, bud.” And he really means to say something, but he’s just all caught up in Jack. He smells so good and feels so nice, he’s strong when Bitty feels weak and shaky, picking him right on up and sitting down to fold over him like a big Canadian blanket.

“What a horrible way to be outed,” he laughs through the shakes, but his voice is hoarse. “This is absolutely awful, Jack.”

“God, it really is. I’m so sorry this is happening to you, Bits.”

“Lord, I’m making a fool of myself. What’s done is done, I suppose.”

“Still, I want to be here for you.”

“Oh, honey. I appreciate it.”

And he just lets himself sink into Jack a little, burying his face in Jack’s neck, just tries to breathe.

His phone goes off again, and this time Jack picks it up, sees who it is, and taps the top of Bitty’s head with it.

He thumbs the request without looking, just keeping his face right where it is. This is the best he’s felt since that awful ticker tape just laid out his biggest secret, and put a big ole’ target right on his back.

“Hi Kenny,” and he’s proud his voice sounds as steady as it does.

“Hey B,” is so soft and concerned, his heart gives a little patter. 

Jack holds the phone for him with one hand, and squeezes him tight with the other. 

“This sucks so hard, B. I’m so sorry ESPN gives a fuck about college sports enough to do something shitty like this.”

He raises his face just enough for Kent to see half his face out of Jack’s bulk. “One of those silly human interest stories, I guess. Too bad they got a little too interested, huh?”

“You can totally sue the shit out of them, okay? B, I know a guy. He could get you millions.”

“That won’t make everything right, Kenny, but thank-you for being here with me.” He gives a shuddering sigh, “I’m still going to have to deal with the backlash, and as much as I hate it, so will the team. I haven’t talked to the administration or the coaches, but it might be smart if I step down for the rest of the season, maybe quit outright. Then the boys might still be able to make it to the Frozen Four…”

“You’re two games away, B. You can’t give up now!”

“Agree. You got them here, they’ll have your back, Bits.”

“Kenny, Jack this is hockey. Everyone we go against from here on out is going to be gunning for us. The things they’re going to say to the boys–”

“They’ll handle it. Trust me,” Jack soothes, “they won’t let you give up either.”

“Well, I suppose we’ll see come Monday,” he’s tired, but there’s no slowing down right now, even if Kent is petting Kit and Jack’s lap is absurdly comfortable.

“Besides,” Kent continues, “you’re not alone, B. Plenty of us in the NHL. We’re just not like, out out. Maybe to our teams and stuff, not like, outed on ESPN or anything, fuck those guys. You seriously don’t want me to contact my guy for you? He got 6.8 million dollars for a celebrity case–”

“So you’re out to your team then, Captain Parson?” He blinks because the way Kent just came out with it, not a stutter one, shakes him.

“Huh? Well, yeah, of course I am. I’ve been on the Aces for years, Bits. These guys are like my family, so yeah, they know.”

“O-oh.”

Kent blinks at him, pauses. “Ah, I didn’t come right out and tell you, but yeah. Me too, so it’s okay, B. You’re not alone.”

It’s that moment when Jack leans down, shifting so Bitty’s looking up at him. “You’re not alone,” Jack repeats softly, “I kiss boys sometimes, too. None of that changes how good you are at hockey, and none of that changes you, okay Bits?”

And Lord above help him. He throws both arms around Jack, biting his lower lip between his teeth, and shaking like a leaf in a wind storm.

“Jack...Kenny…thank-you, boys. Just when I need you, and there you are.” He chokes a little, and there’s Jack folding down around him, there’s Kent holding Kit closer to the phone, sending virtual purrs and cuddles.

He doesn’t feel that bad wrapping his legs around Jack’s waist shamelessly, locking his ankles in the back, and just not facing the world for a while. 

It gets a little better when Jack tries to squeeze into a pair of his shorts while Kenny is brushing his teeth and talking about the camp they had at a local rink, running drills and plays with some of the high school kids from around the area. 

But everything in the world absolutely pauses when Jack clears his throat awkwardly

And really, God Bless Canada. 

The little sigh that comes out of him is echoed from his phone, and yes Kenny, they do have good taste.

“I can’t sleep in these, Bits, ah, sorry.”

But that color blue stretched taunt against Jack’s big thigh is just the best sight he’s probably ever seen.

“I’m sorry, but that’s all I’ve got to offer. I can go talk to Dex?” Because Chowder has wider shoulders like Jack, but is about a foot shorter.

“Eh, not necessary.”

And well, yes. Bitty knows Jack wears cute little briefs. They were on a team together, have spent time in the locker room, have seen the occasional moment before towels go on. It’s men’s sports for crying out loud. 

But none of that, absolutely none of that, prepares him for Jack shimmying out of those shorts for black briefs that absolutely mold to his behind and cup the front of him. The real coup de gras is that t-shirt coming off, and heaven help him, it’s muscles for miles. 

Only those little briefs between Bitty and what the Good Lord gave Jack, the definition of fine walking across the room like butter wouldn’t melt in his mouth. 

Bitty unabashedly watches, lips parted, cheeks a soft shade of pink. 

Jack closes the bathroom door, smirking where Bits can’t see, muffled noises as he roots around in the bathroom for a spare toothbrush. It gives Bitty can just take a second to himself to take in this whole situation. 

He’s been outed on a national sports network that may or may not take the question of the Rebels right out of the equation

Chances of going all the way to the finals is looking slimmer and slimmer the more he thinks about it

Jack and Kenny confirmed some of his suspicions and it’s an absolute crime and a blessing that they’ve found each other again

Jack has gotten bulkier than Bitty realized in the last year and a half playing for the NHL and his ass should be marked as a dangerous weapon

He hasn’t answered any of the phone calls from home

Still, Coach sent him a text, Call your mother. She’s worried about you.

 And top of the list, Jack Zimmermann is in his bathroom, shirtless, barefoot, after just having verbally come out to him.

If there was ever anyone that deserves to be up for Sainthood, it’s this good ole’ Georgia boy Right. Here. 

With his head in his hands, he groans softly, and scurries to throw on his own sleep clothes, stripping down without a thought more than those short on Jack and those shorts off Jack.

“I absolutely feel you,” a breathy chirp, and he forgot Kenny probably saw the entire thing.

Bitty spins, almost ready to start getting on a boat down that river called denial when he realizes Kenny is giving him the most devilish looking smile.

“It’s really unfair that he’s a hockey God and blisteringly hot to boot.”

“We are the best of friends, I’ll have you know Mister Parson. Jack doesn’t even see me that way, even after tonight. Besides, I’m pretty sure he’s got his eye set on someone prettier than little ole’ me.”

He throws the covers back to busy his hands, but can spare a second to put some charm into it and look back at Kenny with a wink. 

It’s either the best or the worst timing because Kenny gets this look on his face, opening his mouth for something that might have been good or bad, when Jack comes out of the bathroom smelling like mint and looking like a touch could burn you down to the ground.

Kenny looks at him for a few long seconds while they’re climbing into bed, and chirps them about hands above the comforter and hockey bros cuddle like champs before he yawns and finally hangs up for the night.

The sheet gets maneuvered between them so he’s not going to be tortured most of the night with only his sleep shirt and pants between them–

(and those sinful underwear, he’s never going to forget those)

–so it’s suspiciously easy to drop off with Jack’s arm around him and snoring in his ear.

**

The next two games are utterly brutal. 

Ice bags are wrapped around his shoulder while he sits in his spot in the locker room, forearms on his knees to just hurt while Chowder is talking at his right and Dex at his left.

The bruises tomorrow are going to be beautiful, but heck, what’s some bruises when Samwell is officially in the Frozen Four.

Lord, they made it.

And he will start celebrating, right after he can raise up his arm again.

Oh, that’s going to be sore tomorrow. Making pies for the campus captain club is going to be awful, isn’t it?

He manages to get the ice bags off in time to walk with the boys back to the Haus, Ollie already scooping up his bag and Chowder, bless his heart, hovering anxiously right by him the whole walk there.

They don’t make him do a keg stand this time, thank goodness, but the party celebrating their win is well underway in less than an hour.

It’s real nice when the Lax bros bring in a stack of pizzas and slap him on the back in congratulations, like he hadn’t just been outed on national television. (He loves Samwell so much.) Chad L. says a whole bunch of something that Bitty tries to follow and ends up handing him a plate with pizza and accepting a piece of pie in exchange. 

The fire extinguisher is in plain sight to remind the footballers what could happen if they don’t behave, and at least two of his boys hang around him most the night, bracketing him on both sides to keep an eye on him. Ollie and Wicks pop around the corner periodically anyhow.

He catches Chowder taking a picture for social media, has a second of panic, almost tells his sweet son not to do that because everyone knows, but shuts his mouth last minute and straightens up to grin for the next one.

**

The night the news came out, Bitty changed his social media to private, hoping to avoid some of the homophobic comments. Since the morning after (and it’s a crying shame he missed seeing those little black briefs again since Jack was already dressed by the time he got up), he’s been talking to pretty much everyone.

Most of all, his Mama and Coach...and Mr. McLean.

Jack squeezes his hand, and Bitty bites his lip, but still, “I’m afraid I don’t think I should accept your offer after all. This isn’t going to blow over any time soon.”

“Mr. Bittle. I’m interested because you’re fast, you’ve got soft hand, and you’re a good fit for the Rebels. As far as I understand, this isn’t going to change any of that.”

“O-oh!”

“If you want to play hockey, Mr. Bittle, you can do that with us.”

And it’s there when he looks in Jack’s blue, blue eyes, when he thinks about Ollie and Wicks, when he thinks about Shitty being so kind when he’d come out to the first person on the team. It’s there when he thinks about being terrified at that first check practice, when he thinks about how dang far he’s come in four years.

(It’s tough, but you’re tougher.)

“I want to play hockey, Mr. McLean.”

“That’s the spirit Mr. Bittle. I’ll send you training camp information in the next week or so. Welcome to the Pawtucket Rebels.”

If Jack holds him tight while he almost shakes apart once he hangs up the phone, well, only Chowder and Dex will ever tell a soul because they fell on him and Jack like a ton of bricks, hugging him and laughing.

**

Shitty, Ranson, Holster, and Lardo make the trip from Boston to show up on the Haus doorstep before they’ve even finished clean-up from the party the night before.

Before he knows it, he’s got Shitty crying all over him, telling him he’s so proud and Bitty’s just the best little captain there ever was.

It’s so nice because Shitty is silly as hell, but he’s an amazing friend in times of need. 

And he can’t say it isn’t nice when Shitty picks up the loud speaker and starts shooing the rest of the hanger-oners out.

“Frozen Four!” Ransom crows, “our guys are going to kick some ass.”

“You said it, bro,” Holster warmly pats Bitty on the shoulder with one of those big hands while this pie is just coming along easily enough.

The flinch when the bruises ache is enough for more ice bags to get wrapped around him, and Shitty to shake a finger in his face, talking about taking care of himself. It might not be a concussion, but they’ve got serious games coming up, and he needs to be tip top if he’s going to take them all the way.

Bitty takes it to heart and lets them baby him for a few hours.

It does get worse when Dex and Chowder see Holster pulling the neck of his shirt up a little to check how bad it is, and then he’s got more hockey players in his kitchen butting in. Luckily, Dex is getting just as good at making pie as Bitty, and finishes up the lattice work perfectly.

He talks strategy with Ransom and Holster at the kitchen table while Lardo makes another pot of coffee, and Chowder subtly slips the bottle of ibuprofen next to him. Whiskey listen to them strategize for the upcoming games, and my, don’t it feel so normal.

He hugs Shitty again, holds on just as tight as he can, and thanks the Good Lord for such amazing friends.

**

Mama and Coach are more understanding than he ever would have imagined, taken in account what a shock it is just to come across the television like that.

“Dickey, honey, now you know,” and she has to pause because Lord, his Mama is crying, “you know you can always come home. Always. No matter what. We love you. We love you and everything else, we can figure all that out.”

And so, since he’s never said it, only thought about what could happen, he tells her, “Mama… I’m gay.”

“I know, sweetheart. I know and that’s-that’s fine. We can figure it all out. But, you can come home sometime before the semester ends, can’t you?”

“N-not while we’re close to the Championships, Mama. I-I can’t–”

“Junior.” 

And now he’s glad he just called instead of trying to FaceTime. So glad he doesn’t have to look Coach in the face right now.

“You’ve done a heck of a job this year. Been a good captain. You know me and your mama are proud, don’t you Junior?”

And there goes his lip all trembling, his eyes getting hot. Only Jack squeezing his hand keeps him together at all.

“Y-yes, Daddy.”

“Good. You just keep fighting. We’ll be here cheering you on, all right?”

His breath hitches in his chest, “yes, Daddy.”

“That’s my boy. You can do it, Junior. They’re tough–”

“–but I’m tougher,” and he’s covering his eyes, shoulder hunching down. Jack goes from holding his hand to pretty much lifting him up enough to slide on Jack’s lap.

“That’s right, son. You sure as hell are.”

He sighs out, a soft noise. “I am, Daddy. We made the Frozen Four.”

“Go get ‘im. Me and your Mama are behind you all the way.”

And even if Coach gets squicky when it’s time for I love you, Bitty manages to get it out anyhow.

“Love you too, son. Now you gotta stop, or else your mama’s gonna drown me.”

The thick laugh is so much better than crying. Jack thinks so too apparently, squeezing tight while Bitty’s sitting on his thighs.

If he thinks there’s a kiss pressed to the top of his head, well, he’s just going to blame it on being emotionally overwrought and leave it at that.

**

He didn’t bother with pads, just pants, sweatshirt, gloves, stick, helmet, and skates. The ice is quiet as can be in the morning light bouncing off Faber, making it beautiful.

Kenny’s far enough ahead of them that he’s on a break from practice, already home making brunch. “Big Red is going to be killer, B. Cornell is ruthless. Fighting Hawks from North Dakota.”

His skates cut through the ice until he’s gliding, hitting the long stretch, pumping as fast as his legs can take him, cycling the puck. 

He doesn’t reply to Kenny, just listens while his muscles burn, his mind works, he sees the next move like a playbook. 

Over the past four years, he’s gotten stronger, faster. Sure, he’s smaller than the average hockey player, but that don’t mean weak. Everyone they’ve played already figured that one out now didn’t they?

His arms and shoulders burn when he swings high, throws some muscle in it when he slaps the puck right in the sweet spot of the net.

“No fair, B. I want to watch!”

“I’d have to set my phone in the stands, sugar pie.”

“If that means I get to watch you do suicides, I’m on board.”

Bitty laughs out loud because Lord, he sounds like Jack. 

“Trying to kill me before practice?”

“Captain’s prerogative, babe.”

Obligingly, Bitty sets up his helmet, laying on it’s side, throws a t-shirt in it to hold the phone up, and FaceTimes Kenny.

He gives the captain of the Aces a wink and then takes off to the blue line. He’s got his game face on, stick balanced perfectly, moving like his ass is on fire.

After a good turn out, he skates back to the stands where Kenny is very close to the screen. 

“Well, there you go, Captain,” he snickers, scooping up the whole thing so Kent goes around the rink for some easy, cool-down laps with him before the boys start meandering in for practice. “That what you wanted to see?”

“You? Are fast, B. That was incredible.”

“Oh, sugar pie,” he grins down at Kent’s face in his helmet, “you say the nicest things.”

“Hey, I’m not being nice, Bits. I’m saying as a professional hockey player that you? Are fast.”

“Well, so are you. Short guys like us have a tendency to out-maneuver the big guys.”

“I’ve based most of my career on being the fast guy on the team, B, but I don’t know how I’d hold up against you.”

“Mmhm. I also haven’t been playing professionally for the last few years, tearing the fire out of my knee, Kent.” Very serious because he’s counted how many nights he’s seen ice bags over that knee in the last few weeks.

“Also true. It might be surgery for me this summer, but that should do a lot. I’ll have maybe ten years instead of five.”

“So you said. Your doctor is talking about it again?”

“...yeah. He says it should do wonders for where I’m at right now, and this might be the year to just do it and get it over with.”

“Three-time Stanley Cup winner is where you’re at right now, sugar pie.”

The laugh is nice, but now he’s wondering if he can convince Kenny to come to Providence and stay with Jack during his recovery. That’ll let Bitty be close enough to come over and take care of him while his knee heals. He’s already thinking it over when his third lap is coming up.

“B.” Startles him right out of his thoughts.

“Kenny?”

And something is there in the way Kenny is looking at him from the screen. “Be careful at the game tonight. Watch out for the Minnesota D-Men, okay?”

“Thank-you, sugar. You watch on out for those Rangers.”

“I will. Just send me a text when the game is over, even if I’m in overtime, okay?”

“You know it, honey. Now go on and get a nap. We’ve both got a busy night tonight.”

**

This could be the last time he steps out on the ice. This could be it. All of it could end right here right now. 

They’ve got to play their hearts out. He’s got to give it everything he’s got. For himself, for the boys, for Samwell. 

It comes down to this, facing Minnesota’s line like there ain’t no going back.

**

He sits on his bed, faggot and fairy in his head from the game earlier. He doesn’t accept Jack’s call because his face is a mess.  

Well, serves him right because Jack just shows up at the Haus an hour later when Bitty has finally got it together.

**

The check is absolutely brutal. 

He used to be floored by it, curled up in a little ball on the ice, couldn’t move, couldn’t think, could barely breathe. 

But not this damn time. Oh hell no. 

It’s fast when he’s back up on his feet, shoving his way through bigger men than him and stealing that puck right on out from under them. 

He feels like he’s got wings on his feet when he glides by them like they’re just standing still. 

**

Mama and Coach are here because they’ve come down to the last stand. 

This is it.

Jack and Kenny are both there and where in the world they got #15 Bittle jerseys, he will never know.

Number #82 has already been gunning for him, but the last one is the very last of Eric Bittle’s patience running right on out.

His heart is racing, his legs burning, skates cutting ice as he steers around players, gritting his teeth against the ache, and for the first time, he’s gonna stand up, holler out that no, he’s not gonna take that nonsense lying down.

The moment slows down for long enough that he feels weightless when he pushes off, is airborn, shoving all his weight right into #82 just as they’re at the Samwell bench and shove the both of them right in with the boys.

It’s a tangle of arms and legs and skates and sputtering. 

“Try me again, asshole,” Bitty sneers in #82’s face with the face guards the only thing between them. 

“Homophobic prick!” One of his boys shouts.

Coach and the boys pick him up (shocked because he doesn’t usually have a need for potty mouth thank-you very much), want him to go get checked out while the ref blows the whistle just after Whiskey gets the puck, and now it’s all on Samwell.

He doesn’t get a penalty, thank goodness, and argues loudly with Coach to let him back in the game, he needs to get back. It’s not like he lost a tooth, just some scratches from going over. It’s a long look in his eyes before Coach just throws up his hands and shoos him back. 

And Bitty’s not thinking about Jack and Kenny and Shitty and Lardo and Ransom and Holster and Mama and Daddy and everyone else up in those stands screaming for them when he hits the ice again. He’s not thinking about how badly he hurts or the scratches on his face. He’s not thinking about his thesis or graduation or his spot in Jack’s guest room. 

He’s only thinking about the tied score, the next play, and how they’re going to show these away boys exactly who’s house this is.

**

And his arms strain when his stick comes back, when he slams that puck with every ounce of strength he has left. His heart thuds hard in the back of his mouth when their goalie’s hand shoots out, tries to catch the puck, just the tips of his gloves skimming the surface.

The alarm blares and the scoreboard changes so fast, Bitty’s not really sure what happened until his boys slam into him, gather all around him, screaming.

He’s dazed, fingers limply holding his stick, eyes still stuck on the scoreboard even when they lift him up, stick and all.

The crowd takes to the ice, and he gets his helmet off in time to get hugs from Mama and Coach, in time to accept the huge trophy, him and Coach and Dex holding it up with all the boys around them just a hooting and a hollering all over the place. 

Ransom and Holster catch him right up off his feet, crying all over him when they tell him how proud they are.

The interviews shake him out of the daze and he tells the viewers at home that the team fought hard for this and earned it all themselves. He’s proud to be their teammate and captain, he’s proud to be a Wellie, and darn it, their hard work paid off.

Just as he turns, sees Chowder going past with three of their guys behind him, singing the Samwell song at the top of their lungs, he catches Jack and Kenny standing on the ice by the boards, watching him with soft smiles on their faces, and his eyes get hot abruptly, get full as can be.

Center ice, just like with the Stanley Cup. And this ain’t that now. This? This one is all his.

He feels his lower lip tremble just a little, puts his hand up to stop it, but dang it if Jack and Kenny aren’t just easing across the ice toward him with those smiles and his name across the back of their shoulders.

He gets a hand on the back of his neck and a shoulder to hide his face while the whooping and celebrating gets loud, loud, loud.

Lord, he’s going to vlog the hell out of this tomorrow.

**

Shitty is naked. 

While it’s not new (they’ve been to Haus 2.0, and yes, Shitty was naked there too. Good times, really), Bitty has always had reservations about him being skin-to-fabric on that dang couch. Who knows what he might get. Well, all that spilled tub juice probably goes a long way to sanitize. Or so he says to keep his revolution to a minimum. 

Watching Kenny get his ass handed to him from Lardo is hilarious. Watching Jack give in and have a chugging competition is even better. 

He’s lucky the ECAC playoffs beat the NHL by almost a month. Jack and Kenny have another week before they start getting serious. 

Ransom and Holster are talking animatedly with the Waffles, back slaps all around. He’s pleased as can be when Shruti, Sharon, Edgar, Chad L., and some other captains drop by to say congratulations and have a piece of pie. He doesn’t see Jack pause over his shoulder while he talks up a storm, doesn’t see the considering look on Jack’s face.

Something about this Bitty hits him harder than the last four years, makes that perpetual tightness in his chest mean something completely different than anxiety.

He should have realized it long before his graduation, should have been terrified of it all happening again. 

Bitty affects him in so many of the same ways Kenny does, and it’s an amazing yet terrifying thing for Jack Zimmermann. Feeling like this person you’re looking at is literally made for you. 

And just as he starts taking a step forward, pushing himself in to stand at Bitty’s side like he’s done the majority of their friendship, Kenny ducks out of nowhere and takes him by both biceps. His expression is desperate.

“You’ve got to stop her. Zimms. Zimms, be on my team. Right now.”

It’s so absurd because it’s Kenny and also because he knows no one is beating Lardo. 

Ever.

Anything else is wishful thinking.

He casts a wistful look at Bitty, animated with his big win, and if Jack literally has his heart in his eyes until they’re out of sight, then only Chad L. from would have seen it.

**

Later on after the captains have said good night and some of their...guests have started staggering out, cheering for Samwell, for hockey, for tub juice, and for pie. 

For this one, Bits really couldn’t take credit because Dex really made most of them, bless his heart.

Moving around the party-goers with a spare trash bag to pick up a bit, he spots someone sneaking upstairs, pauses to squint up in case he needs to charge on up there and firmly remind people the upstairs is off limits. 

Or break out the fire extinguisher.

Either way.

...but he knows that ass in those jeans, and gasps softly as Jack’s plaid is bouncing up the steps ahead of Kenny. 

And, he can let out a sigh, catch just a little bit of bittersweet. But, if there is anything Eric Richard Bittle prides himself on, it’s being a good friend. If Jack and Kenny needed a-a wingman or whatever, then he’s just going to dang well be that.

He keeps an eye on the stairs for the rest of the night for more than one reason. No one, no one, is going to disturb them when they’ve finally come this far, and even if he silently dreads it, hopes they at least used his room instead of a bathroom for heaven’s sake.

[popculturebuffet]

Loud House Reviews: The Loudest Thanksgiving

It’s almost Thanksgiving! And a vastly diffrent one than in recent memory: Most of us are slimming down family gatherings to just whose in our house, you know because theirs a pandemic going on and it’s not worth risking your life for it. To those either guilting their families into it or doing so because MAGa or some such I only have this to say. 

Speaking of Black Friday i’ts spread over a week and it’s cyber deals mean I got a ton of graphic novels for a dollar a piece and my christmas shopping almost done. So in other words, boo Maga, yay safe and responsible captalisim.  But while the holiday may be diffrent, as well as the pseudo holiday attached that spawned a wonderful musical and many many injuries, one thing stays the same; Holiday Episodes. And despite being the less popular of the three holidays, Thanksgiving still produced tons of great holiday episodes and specials. And with everything being so busy I simply didn’t put too much thought into what to do for Turkey Day.. well okay the day proper i’m going to eat, spend time with family and watch a bunch of mystery science theater 3000, stay the course even in these troubling times, just with only the 4 other people who live in my house. But in terms of episodes I thought i had nothing.. then I started actually thinking on it and what do you know I have three things I want to do for the holiday, though one might wait till next year, and possibly a fourth. But given my workload currently, i’m not one to back away from a challenge, so welcome to a three or four course meal of reviews. First course: The Loud House thanksgiving special, the loudest thanksgiving.  I originally wasn’t going to do this one, mostly because due to my large workload and constant battle with procastination, I keep having to push back the latest episode review, and I have to do that one soon, as there’s a new episode in december and a christmas episode i’ve put off watching for far too long , as I INTENDED to watch eleven louds a leapin for every chirstmas up till now and never got to it before the season was over.  But just like elven louds.. Nick forced my hand.. and by that I mean the SPINOFF got a thanksgiving episode that’s also a sequel in some fashion to this episode. If I wanted to cover that episode this thanksgiving or the next I had to at least watch the original. And frankly, this close to the holiday there was no reason not to review it. So with that out of the way. 

Let’s Get At Er. This is The Loudest Thanksgiving... after the break

The Loudest Thanksgiving takes place during season 3, and still pre-casagrandes spinoff launch despite the christmas special taking place earlier. This is actually easy to explain: The Loud House runs on Comic Strip time... i.e. the characters don’t age unless the writers decide they do. But while the spinoff was in motion at this point, it was still a season off airing wise, and ill advised raitings stunt mini series wise, so in order to keep the Casagrandes fresh in people’s minds presumably, they did a crossover that at this point wasn’t a crossover but now technically is because the show exists but this existed before the show. 

It’s just a show, and I should really just relax. Point is this is a pre-crossover crossover, the two families meet for the first time, the man already said pitter patter, let’s get back at er.  So we open with Flip serving as our magical snowman narrator and regaling us with the tale of steven. Every compastionate can you imagine it... and i’m fucking with you, it’s of course abotu that time the louds and the casagrandes tried having thanksgiving together. 

We then cut to Lori and Bobby being all cute, as usual, and both talking over the phone as each show off their thanksgivings to each other and the enusing family shenanigans. On Lori’s side Lynn is wearing baggy pants so she dosen’t miss the game or the meal by going to the bathroom.. because that’s how pissing yourself works. Look if your going to do something that gross, stupid and broish just woman up and wear an adult diaper. The twins are guarding Lynn sr and the food, poorly, and Lisa has invented a Gravy Squriting robot. I can only see this ending one way. 

Yeah those single function robots really get useless once the exestnetial crisis kicks in. 

On the casagrandes side, Rosa is likewise guarding her kitchen, Frida is painting and Hector plans to sernade eveyrone because Hector is the best and you all should know that. Even with the recent Bobby Abuse he’s still awesome. As for the Mercado, CJ and Ronnie Anne are running the annual canned food drive because CJ is better than the best and should really be used more often.  Both wish they could be there.. and both honestly talk about possibly spending thanksgiving with each other and just one of their family. It’s not a wild proposition: Both are going to college soon, both are in a longterm relationship.. they plan to get married down the line for now. If things hold they will eventually have to figure this out. Of course rather than fate let them figure this out themselves, Hector overhears on Bobby’s end and Lincoln, whose busy A Clock Work Oranging himself so he can stay awake during dinner, overhears on Loris, leading to an emergency family meeting for both sides.  Both families are worried their prospective teenager going to another house of their longterm significant other for one year will mean they get all the holidays. Having never had a relationship last long enough to worry about this, I don’t quite get it as in my experince watching couples juggle this.. they usually just alternate years, spoilers the solution the episode goes with, or trade off christmas and thanksgiving, both fair solutions. Buuut as much as this bothered me at first the more I thought about it the more it actually made sense: People.. aren’t always rational and won’t always do the smart or correct thing, especially when it comes to their children. And with Lori leaving college and the casagrandes being togehter for thanksgiving for the first time in about 5 years, with both ronnie anne and her mom not having had a proper one in some time due to her mom needing to work thanksgiving, presumibly because of the eternal curse of gravy chugging contests, they have valid emotional reasons to go a bit nuts and do some irrational and assholish things. They just don’t want to loose their big sister and big brother, and that’s fair. It may not be at all accurate but it’s fair. 

So thus began the great Guilt Off of 2018. ON the Loud side they START with a fairly soft pitch, the twins simply offer her food early, and she takes it because honestly I would too. Then again, i’d also take free food in just about any situation, so i’m not really a good gage for this. As long as it’s not poision i’ll probably eat it if it’s free. The next two are a little.. less subtle, with the kids talking about Lori’s roll in the annual thanksgiving skit.. which I’m assuming is soley for Lynn Sr. as no one else seems to be going to their thanksgiving. Which granted theirs valid explinations for why their neighbors didn’t go, the mcbrides and mr grouse have their own families and while Mr Grouse rarely gets to see his, he now has neighborly friends after the last holiday special happy to help. But Pop Pop.. makes no sense as his girlfriend, the only plausable reason he wouldn’t be there, was said to not have much family in her debut. So he’s just.. absent from thanksgiving for no reason. Thena gain we later find out this play is movie length, so maybe he was just trying to escape that which in that case, who can blame him. Rita almost reigns things back in with the mother’s trump card: parental guilt. Almost. She then almost crushes lori’s hand but it’s funny enough.  At the Casagrandes, their opening move is largely the same only Rosa wins in terms of execution, cooking up some of bobby’s faviorites to specificially target him. Frida paints him into a painting, again the Casagrandes win his one in terms of effort. They do tie in the last bit, as Maria and Ronnie Anne try the same sort of guilt slining with the same bone crushing.  Eventually both teens get fed up with the next bit; For Lori, Lucy gives her a long overdramatic poem about an empty chair which is easily tied with one bit later for best bit of hte episode.. which granted when I can only think of two or three gags that really made me laugh...

Bobby likewise gets Hector telling the story about a realitvie not going to thanksgiving. Both get angry.. which for Lori, isn’t all that suprising, if entirely warranted. For Bobby though? It’s like pissing off a dolphin. IT’s hard to do and very much not something you want to actually pull of. Both families are forced to admit they eavesdropped, and are incredibly worried about this whole situation, with Lynn Sr selling lincoln up the river for telling them... this man’s capacity for selling out his children is as awe insprising as it is truly pathetic. 

So the two teens go back to their rooms to figure something out and come upon a reasonable solution: just have one of the families host and both come to it. That’s more than fair. But given we still have a full special to pad out, both families are still treating this like a competion: while the louds win the coin toss, both sides are determined to win thanksgiving. IT’s far from the most insane contest i’ve seen this month, x of swords was happening and i’ve seen a russian yank a goblin out of the demonic alligator skin he was using as a puppet. And we don’t know for sure Arrakoa and Krakoa didn’t have a trial over a baby turkey being adorable as one of the challenges. Other challenges included getting drunk, an eating contest, telling someone to murder a kitten and a wedding, all of this is actual stuff that happened in this recent crossover, I have made up nothing. 

So after the break and Flip realizing oh shit the audience is back, the war begins. The Louds are preparing for war, with Lola putting out a picture of herself instead of bobby and laurie because of course.. still not a half bad gag. The Casagrandes arrive and in in a passive agressive move that was already done a year before this special by Brooklyn Nine Nine and better, brought their own food.. though the roast pig is a nice and unique touch. Points for that.  And this.. is where the special gets tedious. Yeah while the IDEA of this episode was really good and I was excited to cover it in practice it’s just similar gags on both sides done for both halves: The first being “let’s guilt them into staying” and the second being “Let’s one up each other” with only two bits really working: Frieda having a painting and the louds annual skit.  And the skit is because it raises a LOT of questions: Why is it 90 minutes, who played the adorable turkey in the years between babies? Was it just whoever was youngest? Who wrote this? Who is this for besides Lynn Sr and Pop Pop? Who all has sat through this thing at some point? Is that why the mcbrides don’t come over for thanksgiving? It’s just.. fantastic is what i’m saying.  

But otherwise this part is just the family trying to one up each other with food, or toasts, or song, before devolving into a big fight. What makes it not work is.. there isn’t a lot of personality there. You have these two big, plentiful, intresting casts, even at this stage with the Casagrandes far less established and fleshed out. And instead of finding interesting ways for them to play off one another meeting for the first time, and to use that to also flesh the characters out more for the inevitable spinoff, it’s just 

For most of the second half. Thankfully it DOES manage to bring things around as after things degenerate into a food fight, the families decide to just ASK the two of them where they want to go.. and find them entirely missing.  It then turns out, in a nice twist, this is where Flip came in. Since his place is the only place open 24/7 and 365, barring fishing season, Bobby and Lori fled here to flee their insane families.. who then follow them there because Carlos and Lisa have them chipped. I was suprised at first Carlos had a tracker on bobby but honestly, i’ts just common sense. The man is like a golden retriver in a man’s body. Here’s an artists interpretation

Both families breifly bicker before Lori and Bobby announce their starting their own family thankgiving with blackjack, and hookers. They really shouldn’t of let Flip in on the brainstorming session. Both families don’t want that, and apologize, admitting they just didn’t want to loose them and both genuinely offering to let the other have them next year. Flip, who despite having a “pay for my colonoscopy jar” with a picture of his ass on it, is somehow the voice of reason and just suggests trading thanksgivings every year, everyone accepts, and we do get a genuinely heartwarming ending of both sides gathering everything for a gas station thanksgiving. Honestly reminds me of king of the hill’s airport episode, but in a very good way and still unique enough circumstances to work.Also Flip, of all people, donates the cans needed to finish the can drive.. granted i’m not sure if they WANT any of that meat, but hey, he meant well and it made me really like the character.  We get a heartwearming duet between hector and luna and sono the whole family and we’re out. 

Final Thoughts: This was disapointing. I’ve listed most of my complaints already, but overall it wasted a good premise of two families coming together, and even the feud parts could’ve been funnier. As it is it’s just.. ehhhhhhhhhh. It has some good parts, and bobby is an angel here on earth as always. But the whole just feels padded. Like this was SUPPOSED to just be 11 minutes, got bumped up, and thus here we are. It’s not the worst Loud House has done, i’ve seen and heard of muccch worse, but for a holiday special it just feels stale and i’ve seen way better thanksgiving specials. And i’ll be getting to that.  If there’s an episode of a cartoon you’d like me to cover, just pop in my ask box or dms and you can comission a review for 5 bucks a piece. Discounts on bulk, 15 for movies. Until then , happy thanksgiving.

[sanscestships]

"Escapee" Asylum Zoo Crossmare P.2 (Oneshot, CrossxNightmare)

Created on: 11/18/20

Requested by: No one. I'm bored and there are no requests

(A/N for all of yall's info. FeralVerse backstory is in the first FeralVerse story ["Recovery", its Cream but im not explaining that entire thing again]. Cross is Saber Toothed-Tiger/Rhinocerus and Nightmare is Panther/Octopus to clear up any misunderstandings-)

WARNING: CHARACTER DEATH. MY WAY OF DOING ANGST (that probably failed). IF YOU ARE UNCOMFORTABLE WITH THIS, DO NOT READ.

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

He could hear him. He could hear him coming again.

Hissing into the darkness, he snarled and glared at the "glass", as the child had called it. It was easy to discern "him" from the rest. Soft paw steps instead of tapping and thudding feet. Patterns of three instead of two.

Growling, he could now see the light from the now opening door dimly light the room. Stepping in, was the six-legged one.

He didn't know his name. He didn't know what he was called. And he's never heard any of the other ones address him. But he knew from personal experience he was strong. The goop covering him had such a foul taste when he'd tried to bite him. The cyan tint clashed with the black, giving him the obvious clue it would be a mistake to try and swallow the goop. And his aura, while not as disturbing as the golden one's, definitely made him tremble.

Tremble with both, fear and excitement.

He'd been bored, pacing around the closed in walls, with only the frustration of that un-attackable child and confusion from those other skeletons all this time. But him? He was something the horned beast could actually understand.

He'd been through rough times. And he'd become stronger to get past those times. And he could understand that. Respect that.

Challenge that.

Sometimes when it is dark, the goopy beast would come into the room to fight him. And he enjoyed it. The goopy one would get the training he needed to grow even further. And he would get his entertainment, thrill, and experience of his own. It was a win-win.

He began to shake once more, expecting another brawl. However, his shoulder slumped with disappointment when the creature merely reared up against the glass to stare at him with that one, cyan eye.

Why weren't they fighting this time? Had he grown bored of him? Was he no longer of use to him? Suddenly, he was filled with more fear than he'd ever been. Than he could remember.

Why did the thought of being useless scare him so much? This was exactly one of the many things he needed to overcome. And yet, not being of any use at all, not even as fodder? That was something that scared him more than he could ever expect at that moment.

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

Nightmare was amused.

He'd been hoping for an entertaining reaction when he'd come to watch instead of fight Cross. And of course, Cross did not disappoint. Cross was his favorite little toy of all the other mutated skeletons in the building.

Fell just screeched out or hid. Dust would just stare, watching for an opportunity. Error was always on such a constant rampage. Geno just growled at everything except for Reaper and any sort of Papyrus alternate.

Cross? Cross had so much more variety.

Sometimes he'd just jump up at the sight of him, out of excitement or surprise. Sometimes he'd tremble, the fear feeding him while the excitement intrigued him. Sometimes he'd just ignore Nightmare, just pacing further or going to sleep. Sometimes he could even sense XChara's emotions, increasing in joy before being covered up with pain when Cross's frustration snaps and he begins to ram into the wall.

It was hard to deal with only one source of entertainment, but Nightmare could deal with it until the cure is made.

Suddenly, he stopped to think. When the cure is made... Would Cross remember? Would Cross become different? He had heard from Ink that Cross had mutated soon after his AU was "lost", meaning that it wasn't likely that Cross had always been this interesting. Would he become boring once he's cured. Would he not remember when he's cured? After all, mental damage is a bit more tricky to cure than just a little physical change. Would he be like one of those few Sanses, deranged and feral in a normal skeleton body?

Thinking about this made Nightmare want to leave Cross like this. After all, how often would he come across entertainment like this? Negativity, that was easy. He'd just have to kill a few people to make so many more full of misery. Or deprive them of their hope. But eventually with his long life, he'd get bored. What then? What then when he is at the time. When he is the most powerful being in the multiverse? Would he sit on his throne all day, doing absolutely nothing with nothing left to do?

Suddenly, he was completely rethinking multiversal domination too.

What exactly was this being to make him do so?

Now he was even more interested in "Cross", staring down with a smug grin as the fanged beast had suddenly become skittish. What was wrong with him now? Surely it wasn't his aura that was disturbing him now was it? He'd been around the beast with his aura before after all and he seemed mostly fine.

A little wary and hostile, but fine.

Unfortunately, with having amusing reaction, Cross was also a bit unpredictable. Nightmare didn't really know what was going on in his mind, and his fear and anxiety alone wasn't going to be able to help him. Hint him and point him in the right direction, yes. But it didn't let him accurately guess why.

While the goop covered creature admitted he hasn't had to really think too hard about anything in a while and that he appreciated the challenge, he wished that it wasn't about his only toy's well being of all things.

Tap tap tap tap.

He suddenly jolted, snarling towards the door as he heard pawsteps. Like bone against marble.

Which meant someone was out of their cage.

All of the others wore shoes and/or socks (with Ink being the "non-shoe" one). That meant the only ones who would be walking bear foot would be one of the other mutated ferals. Meaning someone's out, and that was certainly not a good thing.

Hearing a huff, he turned towards the glass to see Cross staring at the door with a surprisingly cold look on his face. He could sense Cross anticipating a fight before he growled and shook his head at him. Possibly other ferals walking about was bad enough. But they didn't need Cross, one of the two deranged ones as far as they knew, to be on the prowl either. By the stars, the panic one escapee alone would cause...

Even Nightmare gets stomachaches from eating too much ya know.

After all, he'd already had quite the hefty meal, not only feeding off Cross's fear,  but also having had such a fun game scaring the SOUL out of Sci just earlier. While yes, he'd certainly become stronger, there was a limit to how much power he could retain the way he was now without that power turning on him to make him as crazy as the others.

Too much power was what caused him to mutate in the first place. And he was lucky then to have been able to stay sane.

He sprung into action, starting to run at full sprint towards where he heard the sound. It takes a feral to take out a feral, meaning he should be the only one chasing after the escapee. Making his ways through the maze of hallways, he smelled 3 creatures down the next hall with 1 faintly far. Growling having had finally caught several of his prey, he made a sharp turn and pounced-

right into Classic?

"WHOA-" "HEY!" "GRRR-"

Nightmare paused, glaring around the hall as he realized that the 3 he had smelled were Classic, Blue, and Red, with Red being the only feral of the three. Hopping off of Classic, he glared at Blue and Classic. Why the hell did they pursue Red?! Hell, how did Red even escape in the first place?! Its... It's RED! The glass is magic proof and an inch thick so even if any of them had regained the ability to use his Gaster Blasters, not even Error should've been able to get out.

And Blue and Classic chasing after him, not even knowing who exactly had escaped?! For all they knew, it was Dust or Cross who got out! They should've evacuated and put the building on lockdown so no one would escape!

He rolled his eyes, groaning as he heard Classic mumble a bit and Blue demand he apologize to Classic. God, he was surrounded by idiots. No wonder he'd been one of the few to stay sane. For fuck's sake...

He snapped towards Red, grabbing him by the torso with a tentacle before beginning to march towards the main containment room, completely ignoring the other two's complaints and the red-eyed beast's struggling.

At this point, Nightmare was DONE with today. He could feel himself staring to-

NO. No. He was NOT going to go crazy. He was NOT going to fall into insanity just like the others. And yet, he could feel all of the negativity start to go to his head as he kept walking. All of the power... All of the negativity... It was so much. At this point, he swore he could even feel that mutation that turned him into some sort of panther-like thing, multiplying all of his magic over and over. All of that new magic intensifying. All of that intensified magic, eating away at him, physically and mentally.

No. He wasn't going to lose it. He WASN'T-

He suddenly stopped, dropping Red before bolting towards somewhere, ANYONE, with his eye shut tight. He should've known something was up when he was suddenly so emotional Suddenly so bored. Suddenly so powerful. Suddenly so... feral.

The mutation is creating so much magic, that its becoming too much even for HIM. Along with all of that negativity he absorbed today, he couldn't focus anymore. He didn't even know where he was going.

And suddenly he felt pain.

"Grah-" He grunted, feeling even worse at that animalistic sound he'd just made as he caught a glimpse of a red and blue eye.

Fuck, it was Dust.

Now that he was so close, he recognized the scent. It was the same one he'd only faintly smelled. Fuck, he completely forgot there was a 4th that slipped away earlier. He really was losing it. Trying to grab Dust with a tentacle, he tried to claw at him to make him let go from his neck. However, that just made him bite down even harder as he kept trying to yank him off. He could feel himself losing his ability to think rationally as Dust's aggression and bloodlust only fueled his magic more.

Finally remembering to roll backwards and kick him off, he started dashing towards Cross's room. Usually around this time of day, Dream visited Cross to try and "heal him". If Dream is here, his aura should kill off all of his extra negativity to help him stay sane. And even if he was smart enough to leave, Cross is like a fucking puppy. All he has to do is act a little nice and he'll be fucking ecstatic. And that, should help just as much.

Suddenly, he felt confusion as he sensed excitement and anticipation coming off of Dust. Did he really think he could take out Nightmare? So what if he was LV 20? He was Nightmare, Lord of Fear and King of Nightmares. Even if he won't be able to think, he sure as well was still capable of taking him out.

He just wanted to be able to feel satisfaction from brutally defeating him.

Bursting into the room, he felt himself accidentally slipping and sliding on something red as he crashed through a little pile. The hell?

Suddenly, time stopped.

He could only feel Dust's glee as he realized he'd just slipped through blood and a pile of dust.

He couldn't sense Cross's emotions.

Which means Cross was dead.

And if Cross was dead, that meant someone killed him.

And if someone killed him, then it had to be Dust since he was the only one with hostile intentions around.

And if Dust had killed him, he was in the room at some point.

If Classic and Blue and Red had been near him while he slipped away, they were pursuing Red AND Dust.

And while he'd been dealing with those three...

Dust slipped away and killed Cross.

That's why he was strangely strong.

He killed Cross. And gained LV.

He killed Cross.

And it was his fucking fault...

With that final thought, with those words just breaking him...

He lost the rationality he had left to even wonder why it hurt him so much.

[emilyplaysotome]

Chapter 1 - Down the Rabbit Hole (fix)

Lately it seems that everything I write ends up never seeing the light of day so I wanted to write something fun, that might actually get read. If you guys like it I’ll continue the story.

Let me know what you think!

I woke up, eyes bleary, head pounding in a hospital bed I’d never been in, but could have sworn I’d seen before. As I rubbed my eyes, I racked my brain to try and remember how I’d gotten here, but could only come up with fragmented moments on the subway platform. It was a fair assumption to say that I’d passed out. Something like that had happened to me once before, and upon coming to had left me feeling very similar.

“It’s good to see you’re up.”

I turned to see a man standing over me, wearing a white doctor’s coat, with a pink collared shirt, and simple plaid necktie. He gently pushed his glasses up as he examined my chart, finally offering me a concerned smile.

“You were brought here yesterday after you collapsed, but we couldn’t find any identification on you.”

My eyes began to focus, and I squinted as they adjusted to the sunlight streaming in through the large windows that lined the far wall. The room was a simple hospital room, with multiple beds, all empty at the moment. Separating each bed was a seafoam curtain, and across from me were some yellow flowers that must have been left behind from another patient.

I looked at the doctor again, who leaned a bit closer.

“Can you...understand me?” he said slowly.

My eyes caught the name on his nametag. Irie.

“Yes, I understand. Sorry, I’m always a bit off when I first get up,” I joked.

His face relaxed, and he smiled at me.

“Take your time. You were out for a good 18 hours.”

Irie...Irie. Why was that name so familiar to me? I studied his face as he scribbled some notes down in my chart. He didn’t have any defining characteristic of note - dark hair and eyes, Japanese, a calm demeanor.

“Soichiro?” I muttered to myself, barely audible.

He paused and looked at me, a puzzled expression on his face.

“Do we know each other?”

I looked again at the room once more, and then back at the man standing before me. There was no way. It was impossible. I was...me and he was just a character in a game. However as crazy as it was, before I could stop myself I found myself asking, “I’m at Ebisu General, right?”

Doctor Irie nodded. I could feel my face getting hot, panic setting in. This had to be a dream. There was no other explanation but it didn’t feel like any dream I’d ever had.

“Have we met before?”

“No. Your reputation precedes you,” I lied.

In actuality, I’d spent hours with Soichiro Irie. I’d been in the man’s apartment. I watched him fall in love. I knew more about him than he probably knew about himself.

Yet here I was, unable to tell him the truth (that he was merely a character in a game) without sounding certifiably insane. Even if this was a dream, the last thing I wanted to do was be shipped off to the psychiatric ward of Ebisu General, so...I lied.

He blushed faintly at the compliment, and crossed his arms just like his sprite did, except in real life he felt closer to the published age of 40 than he ever did in the game. There were slight crow’s feet around his eyes and as he shook his head with a placid smile, I could see the wrinkles hiding behind his hair that fell across his forehead.

“Oh no. I’m sure that’s not true” he said softly.

The Japanese modestly I’d experienced in these games came through loud and clear in that one moment. It was sweet - quite different from the confident and often unwarranted conceit most American men doled out.

“Doctor Irie, I...have a bit of a strange question. I feel ok but...what language am I speaking?”

Doctor Irie cocked his head to the side, “Japanese. You’re in Tokyo after all.”

“I see. You wouldn’t happen to have a mirror...would you?”

As he left to find a hand mirror, I racked my brain at how implausible it was that I’d be speaking Japanese. It had to be a crazy dream, perhaps I was even in a coma, and my mind suddenly placed me in the universe of these games.

In fact, it was entirely possible that I’d been playing one when I blacked out in my world. But...I couldn’t shake the feeling that everything going was far too real to be something entirely contrived by my own brain and its memories of various games I’d played months ago.

Doctor Irie returned with a mirror that revealed that I still looked as I’d remembered. He also brought the items I’d had on me when I’d collapsed - a phone, a coat, and the stupid knit hat I’d stitched in 9th grade and kept for whatever reason. The phone booted up but all my apps were replaced by knockoffs like Skaipe, Tweeter, and Chatsnap. I shook my head, dejected upon seeing this.

I was hoping my phone would be something that would link me to the real world from which I came, but outside of that dumb knit hat, everything else was a gamified version. I sighed loudly and Doctor Irie studied my face with concern.

“So...am I able to leave now?” I asked.

“We’d prefer if you stayed until you’re better. Plus we’ll need your insurance card and -”

“I’m afraid I don’t have my wallet on me,” I quickly cut him off.

“Well, we can look your information up. What’s your name?”

I paused. There’d be no record of me in this world. I thought carefully before replying.

“Naruko...Sasaki,” I said. Or was it Sasaki Naruko? I could never get it straight but it didn’t really matter. Doctor Irie nodded and scribbled her name on my chart before writing something else on his notepad.

“Here,” he said, handing me a paper with a number on it. “If you get into trouble, or need a place to stay, or feel sick again just give me a call.”

For a moment, it crossed my mind that if I called this number, I would be entering Doctor Irie’s route in this world. I wasn’t prepared for that, not because I didn’t like him, but because I had more important things to think about than romancing a fictional doctor. I needed to get home.

I did my best to bow graciously, self-conscious the entire time, and slightly worried that someone would call me out for cultural appropriation.

“Thank you Doctor Irie.”

The first thing I did once I left Ebisu General was pray to the Wishes Gods. When none of them showed up, or even gave me an inclination that they'd heard my wish to be sent home, I formulated a new plan. I found an empty park bench that was shaded by a Revance billboard, and wrote down every single potential guy I’d ever played with the knowledge that I was in the voltage universe in order to figure out what my next best bet would be.

You’d think that being the MC in a real-life-game would be fairly exciting but I promise you, it isn’t. Instead, I found myself fairly stressed out once the realization set in that in order to survive long enough to formulate a plan to get sent home I was going to need to approach the more dangerous characters in this universe. When you’re playing from the comfort of your home it doesn’t matter that your love interest is borderline abusive, or in the mafia, or a criminal mastermind. However, when you’re in the actual game, it’s a lot more stressful than you’d think to approach one of these guys.

I knew what I had to do if I was to survive here. I jogged up to the next nondescript Person 1 and asked, “Excuse me, can you point me in the direction of the Tray Spades?”

“You mean the Tres Spades?”

“Whatever.”

The pixilated version of the hotel had looked pretty good on my iPhone as I played at home, but being there in person was something else.

I’d been lucky enough to travel and stay in some luxurious hotels in my world, but the Tres Spades was like nothing I’d ever seen in my life. It was fair to say that depending on who you asked, it was either a garish eyesore or the most opulent hotel you’d ever laid eyes on. I was still trying to decide for myself as waited in the lobby for my target.

If everything went according to plan my time at the Tres Spades would end in false papers, a temporary job (with housing if I remembered correctly), and no involvement in the auctions. But that was only if things went according to plan and I reminded myself that they rarely do.

I was still mulling it all over when I saw him, or I suppose more accurately, he saw me.

“Excuse me Miss.”

His maroon jacket was even tackier in person but I found him to be more handsome than his sprite gave him credit for. Sure his real voice was actually a bit smarmy, and his mannerisms reeked of a guy who spent far too long reading Neil Strauss’ The Game, but that was to be expected.

“Yes?”

“Are you waiting for someone? Me...perhaps?”

It was impossible for me to hold back my disgusted sigh. Baba in person was so much lamer than he ever read.

“Ahahahaha,” a young man cackled, practically doubled over. “Look at how disgusted she looks!”

“Oh no I didn’t mean...”

I desperately tried backtracking but it was no use. I’d never been good at hiding my emotions and it would seem today was no different. Unfortunately for me, if I was going to have any chance in this world, I’d need to significantly improve my acting skills.

“Don’t apologize!” He exclaimed, tears beginning to roll down his cheeks, “That was the funniest thing I’ve seen all day.”

“You don’t need to rub it in Ota,” Baba pouted.

It surprised me that I liked Ota more in person. He struck me as boyish and mischievous in a way that was far more charming than Baba’s insincere pick up artist act.

As I panicked internally, racking my brain how to get these interactions back on track, the two bantered with each other. Ota teased Baba mercilessly, who in turn desperately tried to recover from the embarrassment of Ota having witnessed him crash and burn in front of a girl.

“Please,” I grabbed the sleeve of Baba’s gaudy maroon jacket all the while putting on my best damsel in distress expression. “I’m actually looking for someone who stays at this hotel. Do you work here?”

The two stopped arguing and Baba looked at me, genuinely surprised. There was silence for a moment and then Ota burst out laughing again

“Ahahahaha! She thinks you work here!”

Collectively Baba and I shared a sigh, and then a smile. He took his hat off and gave me a little bow, then a wink, and said, “At your service.”

“This might sound...a little crazy but I’m looking for a guy, his name is…”

I pretended to rack my brain and my act seemed to be working as Baba appeared to hang on my every word.

“...Lupin?” I whispered.

Baba’s eyes widened slightly, and his cheeks flushed. Ota, still chuckling to himself gave Baba a slap on the back.

“The old man finally catches a break.”

With that, Ota strolled out through the double doors of the hotel lobby, and I found myself being offered Baba’s arm.

“Follow me.”

There was no turning back now. But if I was going to have any chance of getting myself home, taking his arm was my only option.

So I took it.

Continue reading - Part 2

[whateverisbeautiful]

Reveling in Richonne

#152: The Intensity (9x14)

They said this episode would get intense and that was a very accurate statement. The last eight seasons is estimated to have covered the span of about six years, so you know within this six year time-jump these characters probably went through some crazy things considering the craziness they went through in the first six years. 

And that proved to be real true cuz this has got to be one of the most insane things a character has had to go through on this show. 

Jocelyn was clearly nuts so Michonne understandably had to let her know; if you want to get crazy...

Michonne wakes up and her and Daryl are tied up like animals as Jocelyn makes her legion of evil kids brand them both. It’s insane. 😰 And the acting from Danai and Rutina when Michonne’s branded is so well acted and super striking. The intensity is real. 💯

Michonne yelling in Jocelyn’s blank face is so raw and powerful. 🤭 I heard about how Rutina actually wasn’t supposed to be in this shot and so her reaction isn’t scripted. I’m glad they kept her in cuz I really think the scene is elevated by having her in it with this expression. 

To me, Jocelyn’s emotionless expression really emphasizes how she’s too detached to even care for Michonne’s pain as a human being. And Michonne’s expression communicates that she’s going to mess Jocelyn all the way up one way or another. 

Not even a horrid predicament like this can stop Michonne or make her give in when it comes to saving her kids. And this yell is like her telling Jocelyn, even through pain that...

Michonne and Rick have this drive to protect people that’s unmatched so, despite all the abuse, Michonne and Daryl make it out. It’s definitely a testament to the two of them as survivors.  

(Side note: If Rick and Michonne had been the duo in this episode this would have been the most graphic episode for what Rick would do to Jocelyn and anybody who hurt his family. 👀 Imagine the acting we’d get from Andy when they brand Michonne. All bets would be off from the second they even took Judith. And then after the branding of his pregnant wife. 🤭 Rick would’ve been another level of brutal once he faced these people who are trying to hurt his immediate family.)

In the present, Michonne rides her horse and takes out walkers in her search for Judith. And then back to the past, they gloss over how exactly Daryl and Michonne break free (which I thought was really odd) but they do break free and they end up deciding to split up. 

Michonne comes across Jocelyn and her kids and demands to know where Judith and the Alexandria children are. You can tell that the branding isn’t even a concern for Michonne right now, it’s all about the kids. And that’s motivation enough for her to push through this pain. That’s Mama Michonne for you. 

Note that’s “Where are my kids.” Plural. She was talking about all the taken Alexandrian kids. They were all her kids in that moment cuz she’s a real one. 👏🏽Her and Daryl were the only ones out here getting branded for these kids and then the community wants to give her attitude?? 🤔)😑 Cuz again, with those other adults at Alexandria...

Jocelyn responds with, “Why? She’s better off. You live in the past chasing a ghost while Judith’s here with me.” Tried it to capacity. 😡 Quick question, Jocelyn...

Cuz this lady clearly doesn’t realize that she’s dealing with the undeniable baddest chick in the game and Judith’s mother who prioritizes her over anything including a so-called “chase”. 

And also I was like, Jocelyn, Rick def isn’t a ghost, so...

So then the kids run out and Michonne can see Judith running with them. Judith’s all smiling cuz they have her thinking this is a game. And it’s crazy cuz she’s so little and has no clue her mother is going through literal hell just a few feet away. 

Michonne is left to fight these two kids and even as they approach her she tells them she doesn’t want to hurt them. But then that awful little boy strikes her pregnant belly, causing her to start bleeding, and that’s when you visibly see the rules change. Cuz Mama Michonne reaches her final form, once they try to come for her unborn child like that. As she should. The way she swipes at them after that is so genuinely intense.

Danai did such a great job showcasing the ferocity of maternal instincts when it comes to protecting their child. The hands become rated e for everybody when you come for a mother’s child. 💯

Michonne continues to run and yell for Judith but when she makes it outside, Jocelyn just starts brutally beating her. It’s way too much. 🙅🏽‍♀️ And Michonne uses all her energy to stab Jocelyn and kill this evil horrible woman.

Rick and Michonne have had a lot of similarities in their character and journeys. And now “having to kill your best friend because they came for your kids” is added to that list. 

This moment again also reminds me of how Rick had to tap into a dark place to take out that perverted Claimer and protect Car. And because R&M are cut from the same cloth, Michonne had to tap into that space as well for Judith.  

When Michonne gets up and looks around, the Children of the Corn are all aiming knives at her. She tries to tell them it doesn’t have to go down this way and they can all go back to Alexandria, but at this point I was like nah boo we ending this right here and now. It’s the only way. 💯

But I get how difficult and complicated this would be for Michonne. Most everyone can feel sympathy for a child but when you’re a mother I’m sure you’re even more sympathetic to children. Especially right now as a pregnant mother. So Michonne feels for them extra hard and wants to spare them as much as she can. 

These baebae kids should’ve taken her offer to come back to Alexandria, cuz under her supervision they would’ve got it all the way together had a good safe life. 

However, they refuse to listen and the blonde kid Winnie is instructed to kill Judith and the Alexandria kids which at this point in the episode I was just like...

You mean to tell me that just months after losing Rick, Michonne had to worry that she was going to lose Judith and possible her unborn child too!? This episode was piling on the trauma in extreme doses. And it was just time to shut it down. 

So then Michonne does what must be done and takes all these kids out. She tries so hard to avoid it but it becomes clear there really is no other option if she wants to save her children. It’s “look at the flowers” times like ten extra kids.

So to avoid getting too graphic, the show smartly cuts from Michonne slicing walkers in the present to dealing with these kids in the past. And after the sequence, Michonne has got rid of all the killer kids and yells for Winnie to not hurt the kids inside that RV. 

Again, Danai does a terrific job of conveying the anguish and conflict Michonne feels having to kill these kids in order to protect her own kids. She by no means wanted it to be this way. But they took Michonne’s daughter so she had to take them all out.

Daryl walks out too with bloody knives implying he took care of business as well. Winnie knows she lost so she runs off, and Michonne is generous to just let her leave.

Then, with the last bit of energy she has left, Michonne cries and her voice breaks as she calls out for Judith. 😢

Judith walks to the entrance of that RV and again looks so beyond adorable. I love that she heard her mom calling and knew to walk out. Like I’m sure the rest of those kids inside were scared and hiding after what they heard going on outside but Judith was like look y’all I gotta go cuz...

Judith stands at the entrance and stays there looking at Michonne with what could appear to be a scared and uncertain expression.

Michonne notices Judith’s hesitancy so concern etches across her face as she worries that Judith has been too traumatized to recognize her mom. 

But after a moment of silence the cutest thing ever happens, cuz Judith smiles and runs to Michonne with open arms saying, “Mommy!” 

My cup runneth over with how adorable this moment is. 😭😊🙌🏽 

And then Michonne feels utter relief (and me too) as she embraces Judith and doesn’t let go. Y’all, this mother and daughter content is just the best. 

And after holding my breath all episode it was at this precious moment that I could finally be like...

It’s cute that little Judith got to act a bit with her expressions this episode. ☺️ And I’m so beyond glad that we got to hear the little one call Michonne “mommy”. I had wanted to hear that from her for some seasons now, so to bring little Judith back and hear her say it was everything.

(Side note: I love thinking about how this Judith would totally have been calling Michonne “mommy” when Rick was around too cuz they were just such a family in every way.)  

Still embracing her daughter, Michonne turns over to Daryl and the two share a smile. And then even despite her own physical pain and trauma, Michonne puts on the sweetest calming voice to ask if Judith and the kids are okay. 

It’s moving to see how, so shortly after such a draining experience for her, Michonne’s focus is still on the kids first and foremost and wanting them to feel safe and like it’ll all be okay.  

And it’s a sweet subtle detail that as she hugs the kids, Daryl runs up to them so they don’t have to see the bloody scene.

I appreciate the unity and bond between Michonne and Daryl. They go through it together and know this is what had to happen. Of course there’s heaviness cuz no one ever wants to take a young life, but I think those two know that in this situation they aren’t monsters for doing what had to be done.👌

I love that Judith, this baby who’s been looked after by so many characters, who at this point in the flashback has just lost her father, still has the best mother in the world to raise her, love her, and fight for her no matter the circumstances. 😌

This whole event is significant for a couple reasons. And one of the biggest ones is that this moment made Judith apart of the apocalypse. 

This appears to be the first time Judith saw the darkness of the world she’s apart of, rather than being inside safe walls just playing. She’s not just that little girl in the house anymore. She’s seen things now that has made her aware. 

Y’all, this has got to be one of, if not the, darkest subject matter this show has ever done. And I really feel like Michonne is one of the few characters who could ever endure something like that and not go completely crazy. Not cuz she’s some warrior robot, but because Michonne has demonstrated an ability to put in the work required to rise above the pain time and time again.

And her desire after this to keep the communities closed makes total sense. Other characters might’ve reacted even more extreme than that had they been the ones in this situation. So Michonne def deserved more empathy from people within and outside of the show (and that empathy should’ve been long before this episode ijs). 

This also showed me that RJ is a miracle baby. Michonne is so resilient to have been branded, cut, and gone through extreme physical and emotional trauma and still give birth to her healthy baby. She’s a queen and RJ’s been persevering since before he was born. 

All that being said, imma need the show to not put Michonne though any more abuse. Like for real. 

Of all the women characters, I feel like she’s had to endure the hardest beatings and it’s time to stop. Just cuz she can take it doesn’t mean she should have to, so I really hope her final season lets her be when it comes to stuff like that. 

Back to the present, Michonne continues to slay walkers and then she finds Judith who’s also using her baby katana to take out walkers. Like mother like daughter. 😊

And when Judith’s using her baby katana you just know she wants to be like her mom. It makes sense, Michonne’s the ultimate role model. And I love that Judith is this fighter like her mother. 😊

Michonne doesn’t take anything laying down so why wouldn’t Judith. She’s fierce and caring and determined, just like her mom. (And she doesn’t stay in the house, just like her big brother lol.) 

It was deep to have Michonne in the past taking out kids and in the present taking out walkers with the same motivation; getting to Judith. It’s like she said in that 8x16 deleted scene; “Everything you do is for that child.”

She gets to Judith and they smile as Michonne sees that her daughter really does take after her in some ways. But before their moment of being happy to see each other can last, a walker grabs Judith. And I so adore the fact that Judith’s immediate instinct is to yell for her mommy and of course her mom is right there to help her. 😌

Judith has been written to be extremely mature for her age, which I don’t mind cuz it would make sense for her to not be like other kids since this is the cutthroat world she’s had to grow up in. But at the end of the day she’s still a little girl and she does need her mommy so I’m glad that older Judith had a moment of not being too grown to need her mom. 💯

Michonne runs to her and takes out the walker and then they hug and it’s precious. 🥰 I really adore the parallel of little Judith and older Judith saying “mommy” to Michonne and embracing. 🥰 Both Judith’s know their mom has got them no matter what.  

Michonne asks if she’s okay, as that’s her first concern just like when they embraced in the flashback and then she lets Judith know they need to talk.

And yeah they definitely do. And it’s one of the most heartfelt conversations.👌🏽😊😭

🏽gifs source: @michonnegrimes @winterswake

[ts-2020-olympics]

Episode 7 - “I wonder why you're not liked” - Nicole (& Ben)

Glad I sat out on that one - really didn't know anything Survivor related. Darcy's score of 12 is a huge shame, but gives me incentive to vote him out. He tried, he flopped, that's how it is. If it's me going this round, GGWP. 

Oh yeah! So, Nicole returned to the game.... Grrreat. It was probably the worst outcome I could have, but honestly, I don't want to dwell on it too long. With Nicole and Jacob both back in the game and Juls out of it, my fate looks worse and worse each day, as my list of allies continues to shorten and my list of enemies only gets longer. I feel very scared for the future, and rather trapped as of now, trapped between millions of possibilities, none of which have me doing very well. But hey, hasn't that been how it's been since Day 1 of this game? I started things off on Sonkei, a tribe so quiet I couldn't tell if I was running the show or on the bottom of everything until like 3 tribal councils in. A tribe where every new enemy I made would come back from the arena with a vengeance, and things only got harder. A tribe where I consistently lost challenges despite putting in my all. Then I got to nuMIraitowa, and my time here has been incredibly hectic. A bumpy road, to say the least. It's been a journey of gaining friends and then losing them, knowing people are lying but not knowing why, and just struggling to find the tiniest crack so I can get off the fucking bottom and just... SURVIVE. It's really been tough out here, and you can see the game starting to wear me down. My insanity is starting to come through in the main chats and honestly I've just lost all patience and tolerance that I had at the beginning of the game, the real me is beginning to show through. The one who lashes out, and desperately tugs at every heartstring possible, and says exactly what he's thinking without giving a fuck who's listening or the repercussions it might have down the line. Who makes everything public. I KNOW that these things are not typically good for my game, and yet, I just find myself so inclined to do them. Even though they've never helped me win anything, I can't help but be true to myself. I don't know, I guess I just feel frustrated. I'm at a place in ORGs where I feel so helpless, like I'm the victim of my own personality. I know exactly what's holding me back but I can't seem to just get past it. I guess I just keep hoping that one of these days, I'll play exactly true to myself, 100% me, and people will like that person enough to want to work with him or be happy to reward him a win. But it hasn't happened yet and I don't know if it can happen here anymore. I'm really struggling to push through. But, if there's one thing I'll never do, it's give up. Even when everything feels like it's caving in and I'm ready to just collapse, like I was saying earlier - no matter how much I want to do something, the real me ALWAYS fights back and does what it wants anyway. And the real me can't give up. Deep down in my core I always fight back, I always stand up for myself, sometimes even when I'm wrong. I just can't stand letting things go, and I know it's a character flaw, but hell, it's also a strength, and it's something I'm proud of, in a weird way. I don't want to be the player who gives in, never reveals anything, or plays it safe. I want to play it my way because if I don't, then how can I enjoy a win? How can I be proud of myself for winning if it wasn't ME that won? I have to win it my way, and sure, right now it looks difficult. VERY difficult. Maybe even impossible. But I'm approaching on the Final 16, and maybe, just maybe, a swap is on the horizon. Maybe new things are coming and maybe this entire game is about to reinvent itself for me. I've got allies in Jordan, Eve, Pete... potential allies in Caeleb, Ben, Sammy, Kevin... Maybe I could fix things with Emma. Honestly, who knows what's ahead. I'm very scared, partly, if that wasn't obvious by this big emotional confessional. But I'm also kind of exhilarated, this is exactly what Survivor is supposed to be and I can't wait for the next stage of the game. These are the Olympics, so it's go big or go home. Let's do this.

Hello again, this is Darcy here reporting with more confessing.  So, for starters, I still have yet to find something at the Olympic Village, which is really nothing new at this point of the game.   Now for the fun parts, my tribe lost Immunity, which not really surprising, since that kind of challenge I felt whoever had gold medal won that challenge.   So, we get to enjoy another tribal, where I am hoping for it to be Ben, since Ben is the one I trust the least, due to hearing about Ben wanting to come for me last round if I lost immunity, assuming that was a true tidbit anyways.   I have a feeling this vote could be between Ben and I, but here's to hoping Ben targets someone else and not me woo!   I do have enough trust in my alliance with Beck, Tommy and Karen though that us four should hopefully stick together to just take out the common enemy in Ben.   Then Ben may come back again with a gold medal, but if he does, I mean good for him.

I'm back, babes! Okay, so regarding my last confessional...I guess maybe I went a little too hard on some people. But, I was angry and validly so. Nothing much has changed even though I'm really good at faking forgiveness. About twenty minutes after I dropped in the FOUR AND A HALF HOUR PRESSURE COOKER, Sammy messages me asking to call!

I'm back babes! So as soon as I got back after the FOUR AND A HALF HOUR ENDURANCE, people were all of the sudden really happy to see me -- which was a LOT different than 24 hours prior! I talked to my best ally Kevin first, of course! I really hope at the end of the game Kevin's confessionals aren't like "oh geez and then I had to talk to Nicole, she's so annoying" bc I will be crushed, as a person he is just so nice and I'm so happy we have been given the opportunity to become friends from this game! So I talk to Kevin, then Caeleb and then...whatta know! Sammy! Right to the rescue, he wants to call after 1) voting me out 2) revoting me out. Now, long story short I made significant peace with Sammy through the phone call BUT something did happen that really did not sit well with me. While we were calling he said he DIDN'T want to apologize because we both did things wrong. Hm. Well, Sammy! Okay! I would have had more respect and less wariness of him moving forward if he did apologize but, he didn't. He kind of said like "ok so i know i lied about the advantages I had in this game and gave you nothing to trust me off of, got mad when you didn't trust me, then decided I was going to vote with Eve to get rid of you, revoted to seal your fate and called you out on a tribal call like 'if anyone wants to apologize now would be the time', but i don't think I NEED to apologize because, we were equally wrong.' Someone please explain to ME how exactly it is that we would be equally wrong when everything I did was to protect myself, and everything he did was because he had other people he could trust over me. Now that Juls is gone and he kind of showed his ass, he's now saying hey haha let's work together again though! I haven't decided if I want to do that, AND now I have a lot more options because people saw how kick ass I could be :) Speaking of the comp, it kind of grinds my gears that coming back in the last few messages before I entered again were Emma and Landen actively rooting against me. Landen, I understand. Emma...who even are you? Why do you hate me? lmao. Okay I may still be a little bit mad. Ben also as I'm typing this messaged me "I wonder why you're not liked", which is like hurtful but accurate. Anyway....I'm making at LEAST f15 now (bc my gold medal) so that's very fun, A+ content. I think we are swapping after this THANK GOD bc I have to get AWAY from this tribe. I hope I get to stay with either Jacob or Kevin, and maybe even get swapped with Jordan Pines or Karen so I can feel some semblance of security. I'll make a confessional about it next round bc :) im back :) hehe

anyway so this ugly ass tribe lost again. The only good thing to happen over the last few days is that nicole is back ugh I wasn’t ready to lose on of my allies skdjfkdjfj anyway so juls is gone and it’s down to me tommy Darcy beck caeleb and Ben, 4/6 of us are in an alliance and then there’s cae and Ben sjdjjddnjd obvs Ben is the choice to vote but also like bc it’s so obvious I’m scared that he’ll know and play an idol /: scares me bc I’m not 100% sure who he’d vote and he’s shown that he’s willing to vote for me at any moment so I’m just debating whether I should throw a vote at caeleb just in case to tie it or if I should let one of my alliance members potentially get voted out. Best case scenario if Ben plays an idol is that he votes for beck bc I don’t trust that hoe at all wkendkdndndn but yeah I haven’t had time to really talk to Ben so it’s prob too late to probe into his plans. Ugh I hope this tribal is quick & painless /: 

hello. confessional #472. i've survived another round so that's fun! i feel rly solid about the bonds i have with people right now so i know a tribe swap is incoming but that's for the best bc i'd rather not vote out anyone on yushu rn… so we'll see! 

Really mad I got voted out, feeling pretty betrayed by my tribe rn. 

I wish em didn't have to get voted out, but I'm pretty confident she'll fight tooth and nail to get back into the running..

Tribal just happened and we voted out Ben again in a unanimous vote. It was an easy vote I think either we are swapping into 3 tribes of 5 at Final 15 or 16, but if it's Final 16 the Gold Medal winner will be exiled. If we don't swap I think Ben will win the Gold and Beck the silver medal so we have a good chance of winning immunity incase there's another round before we swap. I'm really just trying to maintain get close to Caeleb because he's probably still skeptical about the whole Juls vote which I'm happy she's out because she's a threat but on the other hand she was so sweet it was sad she had to leave early. At this point I'm trying to maintain good relationships going into a swap and hope I get a good tribe that's strong and will leave me in the majority going into the merge. Also, at this point once Emma or Ben is officially voted out we'll be down to 9 returnees and 7 newbies so I really don't care if some of these returnees start hitting the road and going home. It's gonna come down to who wants to take me to the end and that's who I'm with. 

It's the end of the round, you know what that means? LAST MINUTE JORDAN PINES CONFESSIONAL TIME! It's america's favourite game show where Jordan Pines quickly makes a confessional at the last possible moment to not recieve a strike and tries to make his thoughts sound coherent. Let's Play! Whew this round was awful compared to every round so far in every aspect. First we get a challenge and I'm like... Oh Shit we can win this! and I work my ass of coordinating, doing most of the work for the tribe getting list ready in shit. And guess what it worked, we had the best scores over all and it wasn't very close... until you remember that each member of a tribe getting 20% on a challenge like this is basically a guaranteed win unless you are absolutely garbage. So we lose! Here we are and I have 4 people on my tribe including and I want to go far with all 3. Like I was at a loss. Not to mention the fact that I was having the day from hell where I could only be on for a minute like for the whole day. It ends up being emma and that fucking sucks cause emma is an icon. She has now won the duel and thank god I had some common sense not to blindside her and give her a heads up so that I can repair the relationship. Let's see how she feels about me tonight, but like I stand by it that I quote it here, in an ideal world i would go as close to the end with emma, shes iconic and i trust her a lot. I hope I havent damaged this relationship too badly! LET ME SWAP ALREADY!

I am tired of losing!! we’ve been attending tribal nonstop and it sucks. All these people are amazing. The vote was between Sarah and Em, Jordan was quite busy and didn’t care who left so it came down to my decision unfortunately. I decided em should go because I just don’t have a relation with her like I do with Jordan and Sarah. Luckily she won and is still in the game and got us gold <3 Jordan’s gonna try and do damage control with Em to keep her on our side. We’ve got a few advantages rn  and have been leading these tribals so I hope we stay in a good position. 

[vanderlinde-gang]

RDR2 Character Zodiac Sign Analysis Pt. I

*MAJOR SPOILERS for those who are still playing the game

*All completely theoretical on my behalf, so please do not take any of this as fact

*Lengthy read! Beware if you don’t like to read!

*This is a segmented post, so expect more parts of this coming soon!

Ok, so this is the second attempt to write this due to the last one being deleted 😫, but because I love what I do and I really wanted to share this information, I’ve decided to give it a try once more. With that being said, I hope you can enjoy. And please, feel free to comment if you’d like. I love feedback and questions :) ❤️

Anyways, I am very good in astrology and zodiac signs, been studying it for a while, however, I’m not a master in it—yet. I also have a keen interest in the functionality of the human mind and human behavior so I like to study people in general. I used to want to be a psychotherapist but I love writing and telling stories too much. Anyway here is my analysis on what I think the signs of the Red Dead Redemption 2 characters are. I will explain as much as I can on why I think these signs match the characters and give a few examples as well. Although it is highly possible that I may not be accurate, if at all, I still would like to think that I am very close to it. So, bare with me:

Taurus ♉️ The Bull

- Dutch Van der Linde

- Tilly Jackson

Taurus people are stubborn, superficial but on the other end, also practical and well grounded types. They can be possessive and materialistic, almost to an obsession, however, they can also be very sensual and reliable at times. They are the kind of people who seem to have serious trust issues and can not let go of things when they’re in their feelings almost as if they take everything to heart. They may be the really annoying grudge holders but their friendship and loyalty is worth while.

In my opinion, Tilly and Dutch have a few characteristics of Taurus displayed over the course of the story, especially Dutch.

So....

This quote “this is an unfortunate being that has to wander the Earth in order to find freedom” is pretty relevant to how Dutch is portrayed in the game.

———————————————————————

“They are loyal and don't like sudden changes, criticism or the chase of guilt people are often prone to, being somewhat dependable on other people and emotions they seem to be unable to let go of” This can definitely describe Dutch’s personality. During his mental slip, he is constantly bringing his own men into a slew of trouble only to reel in their unforgiving loyalty for him. And if either of them threatens or questions his way of practicality, he becomes a bit irrational in his response.

Dutch was also an advocate believer in loyalty, often preaching about it during camp interactions and even conditioning the others to believe in what he sees of it. Although he may not have been as loyal to his fellow men as he’d expected them to be with him (at least during the climax of the story), I believe that he once was before, which prevailed him as a great leader in their eyes.

When Dutch began to lose his sanity, slowly but surely, he became quite dependent on that loyalty from his men, even willing to have some of them killed off if they’d disagree to conform to his insanity. In fact, Arthur and John’s distrust of him, alone, helped pushed him further into becoming a ruthless maniac. He could not accept his own flaws and would instead, justify his actions with irrational and nonsensical raps about loyalty.

In fact, this sudden change of life as an outlaw, in the days of the new era, in the last year of the Old Western century where civilization and industrialism began to rise, were the very reasons Dutch lost grips with reality in the first place. But they weren’t the only reasons to consider.

———————————————————————

“these individuals have the ability to bring a practical voice of reason in any chaotic and unhealthy situation” Tilly’s personality is a good example of this. In a few camp interactions with the women of the group, she is often the voice of reason when the others become frustrated or rightfully aggravated. For example, she tells Karen that things will change for the better if she’d desired for them to do so. She believes that you are in control of your own happiness and the betterment of your surroundings.

However, Karen disagrees with her as she can only see the present reality around them which left little room for change, especially for women. While Karen’s argument was realistic, Tilly reasoned why her pessimistic views were invalid, challenging Karen’s perception.

Tilly also tried to reason why she thought Grimshaw was right for what she did in a bad situation resulting in Molly’s death. When Mary Beth asked her about it, even though she was most likely in a state of conditioning, she justified Grimshaws actions by applying rational thought into “the rules of the camp”, which appeared to have gone against her moral coding. Although they do not always follow morality, rules are rules, and they are justifiable by way of standards formed by a group of people. In a single logic, it is rational to follow moral codes. In a group logic, it is rational to follow the rules.

Molly’s death may also show how loyalty was defined in Dutch’s standards. The “rules” of the camp are implied only at this point of the story. Perhaps they were set in place just to justify away Dutch’s false constructed rendition of loyalty for the benefit of his need for self worth.

And speaking of Dutch, he, himself, was also quite a voice of reason whenever the gang ran into difficult and chaotic situations, usually being well grounded about it. He was always the one planning a practical way out of the situation rather than to question it, panic or give in.

So in my take, Tilly and Dutch were often the most level-headed people of the gang.

———————————————————————

Taurus people are quoted to be “overprotective, conservative, or materialistic at times, with views of the world founded on their love of money and wealth” which implores both Tilly and Dutch’s personalities. Tilly even expressed these traits during a few camp interactions by mentioning that she was more into the superficial way of life, preferring to associate with people and things of that nature. Later in the story, she even marries a wealthy lawyer.

Dutch was also quite materialistic, having quite a lust for money throughout the entire gang. It was also heavily implied that it wasn’t even necessary most of the time for the gang to collect huge amounts of money he insisted upon, completing many unnecessary heists and, once again, putting his own men at risk. One heist would’ve done the trick for what Dutch explained as his plan. Money was definitely not much of a necessity for the gang at all. There have been times where I thought Dutch was obsessed with money as he talked about it so often.

He was also a man of extravagance, chasing after fancy living and lifestyle. His apparel was also noticeably sophisticated, keeping at bay a clean wealthy appearance and style. However, I believe Dutch had more of a taste for high expenses rather than fashion (unlike Javier).

———————————————————————

Now this: “To find love, a Taurus has to travel the world, change perspective or make a shift in their entire belief system and their system of values” I feel is a very important quote! It beautifully sums up everything that I’ve explained about both Dutch and Tilly’s personalities within the story. Although this quote may state that Taurus people will often do this by adapting into some sort of change or enhancement for the sake of love, this does not only apply to just romance. Love could also mean a purpose in life, acceptance or human consolidation, anything that may be valuable to the growth and/or purpose of that person.

Dutch is a traveling type. Regardless of having to move around due to the heinous crimes he’d committed, he came off as an adventurous man. He was in a constant battle with his flaws, with his perception of the world, his beliefs and self worth, he often shifted around in his head, trying to find ways to suit his spiraling sanity. He was also into worldly philosophies which contributes to the traits of his personality. He liked to hear others opinions and thoughts in order to change or challenge his for the better. He embraced human evolution. And human evolution often comes from experience and adventure.

In order to stay level-headed, Tilly often challenged her realistic views by rationalizing them in a more positive prospective. When things became difficult, she calculated her options with positive reasoning, an outlook that was still realistic but practical with a solution. I assume that Tilly was pretty young while all of those Van der Linde gang shenanigans were going on, so while I still believe she is a Taurus, I also believe that her personality was still forming, and it is difficult to say what her true beliefs and values were. However, she was still a very practical and somewhat materialistic type of person.

Dutch and Tilly were both more than willing to make room for what they’d find valuable for their own personal growth. Individually, Dutch wanted acceptance, love and loyalty and Tilly wanted reason and purpose.

Zodiac sign quotes found here.

[greencephalopod]

Yuri on Ice fanfic reclist

Water's Edge by Mhalachai For years, Yuuri had heard people say Viktor’s skating was otherworldly. He never thought they were being literal.

Did you watch Yuri on Ice and think “well this sports show is cute but what it really needs is some supernatural horror all up in there”, if not then you need to think again because this fic is fantastic. Yuuri’s characterization is really great and serves the really ground the story as weird stuff starts happening! I came for what I thought was monster!Viktor fic and stayed for the suspenseful writing and the gorgeous atmosphere.  

a day for all the rest by Etharei Phichit clears his throat. "You, ah, might want to wear your scarf again." He taps meaningfully at his own collarbone. Victor touches the indicated spot on his neck. The skin is markedly sensitive. He presses down, unable to help himself, and the sweet little ache summons a sense-memory: strong fingers carding through his hair, then digging into his shoulder, powerful thighs like a vice around his hips, his name gasped into his ear before a hot mouth seals over the skin of his neck.

The day after the Cup of China.

A post Cup of China fic, but notably from Victor’s POV, and it’s a great character study, but what I enjoy even more is just the natural interaction between all the skaters. While Victor and his relationship with Yuuri is the focus, it never feels all consuming and their relationships with their friends and family are also in forefront and treated as an important thematic point, and that is something I’m always happy to see in fic.

Unimaginable by emilyenrose

Sixteen year old Victor spontaneously travels to the future, where he's... retired? And married?

This is a crack prompt taken seriously in the best way possible. After the first couple of laughs at the situation you find yourself seriously feeling for young Victor. Mostly it follows a younger Victor trying to figure out why he ended up with Yuuri and his slow discovery is just so satisfying in a way I can’t quite articulate. Also Victor and Yuri strike up a friendship that is just absolutely wonderful, and so in character for both of them.

Until My Feet Bleed and My Heart Aches by Reiya ‘…Of all the rivalries in the world of sports over the years, perhaps none has become so legendary as that of Russian figure skater Viktor Nikiforov and his rival, Japanese Yuuri Katsuki…’

A single event changes the course of Yuuri’s life, throwing him into a bitter rivalry with Viktor Nikiforov that spans across his entire skating career. But as the years go on, rivalry and hatred begin to develop into something very different and Yuuri doesn’t seem to be able to stay away, no matter how hard he tries. 

Hatred and love are two sides of the same coin and even though everything changes, some things are still meant to be.

So I put off reading this fic for a while because Yuuri and Viktor being at odds with each other just doesn’t do much for me, I am just so in love with their canon relationship of support and affection. But guys. This is so engagingly written and I’m utter Yuuri self-loathing trash and that is this fic. I have to give it serious credit with how much of it leans on the ultimate unreliable narrator Yuuri that just makes you unable to look away from the utter trainwreck that is him. So, please come into the pit with me and have something to wait every week for with baited breath. This writer’s weekly updating schedule and friendly interactions with their readers give me life!

Masquerade by Ashida “Just say the word.” came the whisper as Victor stepped close, behind them Yuuri was aware of guns out and at the ready, of confused men and questioned loyalties, here Victor was offering, and Yuuri was too selfish to say no. 

“Ok.” Yuuri smiled as this game of masquerade came to an end, what would happen now, he didn’t know, he would probably die, his family would come after him and try to put a knife in his back or a bullet between his eyes, none of it mattered, because together they would fight, and the rest of the world would finally burn.

So there have been a fair number of mob/criminal aus and mostly they don’t do much for me, but wow this fic. Despite the setting it still manages to incorporate the idea of Yuuri and Victor against the world, in a way that feels emotionally true to the source material even if the actual plot is very different. Also Yuuri and Victor are just so, so in love and it’s just so satisfying to read as they finally make the decision that they care about each other more than anything else, and ugh. Also this Victor is just insane in a good way that feels very close to canon. The second chapter ends on a cliffhanger and I’m not sure if the author ever means to update, but I will wait forever in hope! (but the first chapter works great as a standalone too)   

Yuuri Katsuki Secret Route Walkthrough/FAQ by Metis_Ink The otome community uncovers the mysteries of the Nikiforov-Katsuki Route, one of the most difficult and overly-complicated routes in a game supposedly just about ice skating.

mysticdabber: okay so I've literally conquered every other route on this damn game but yuuri keeps flat out rejecting me?? I've hit like 7 different Friend routes 50 times?? What does he want?? How high are his standards?? I'VE DONE EVERYTHING FOR YOU YUURI ALL I WANT IS YOUR HEART

Just read this, fall in love with it, and then use your talents to make this game a reality so I can play it. I actually have a friend whose hobby is playing otome games and telling me about them, so I can say that this is 100% accurate, like some of the comments sounded so much like my friend talking about her games it was a little eerie. This fic is also responsible for making me laugh whenever I see an ice resurfacer. (I would 100% romance Phichit as my first route just so we’re clear). Basically this fic is really clever and cute and a must-read, especially if you enjoy social media type fics.

[emilyplaysotome]

Part 1 - Down the Voltage Rabbit Hole

Lately it seems that everything I write ends up never seeing the light of day so I wanted to write something fun, that might actually get read. If you guys like it I’ll continue the story. 

Let me know what you think!

I woke up, eyes bleary, head pounding in a hospital bed I’d never been in, but could have sworn I’d seen before. As I rubbed my eyes, I racked my brain to try and remember how I’d gotten here, but could only come up with fragmented moments on the subway platform. It was a fair assumption to say that I’d passed out. Something like that had happened to me once before, and upon coming to had left me feeling very similar.

“It’s good to see you’re up.”

I turned to see a man standing over me, wearing a white doctor’s coat, with a pink collared shirt, and simple plaid necktie. He gently pushed his glasses up as he examined my chart, finally offering me a concerned smile.

“You were brought here yesterday after you collapsed, but we couldn’t find any identification on you.”

My eyes began to focus, and I squinted as they adjusted to the sunlight streaming in through the large windows that lined the far wall. The room was a simple hospital room, with multiple beds, all empty at the moment. Separating each bed was a seafoam curtain, and across from me were some yellow flowers that must have been left behind from another patient.

I looked at the doctor again, who leaned a bit closer.

“Can you...understand me?” he said slowly.

My eyes caught the name on his nametag. Irie.

“Yes, I understand. Sorry, I’m always a bit off when I first get up,” I joked.

His face relaxed, and he smiled at me.

“Take your time. You were out for a good 18 hours.”

Irie...Irie. Why was that name so familiar to me? I studied his face as he scribbled some notes down in my chart. He didn’t have any defining characteristic of note - dark hair and eyes, Japanese, a calm demeanor.

“Soichiro?” I muttered to myself, barely audible.

He paused and looked at me, a puzzled expression on his face.

“Do we know each other?”

I looked again at the room once more, and then back at the man standing before me. There was no way. It was impossible. I was...me and he was just a character in a game. However as crazy as it was, before I could stop myself I found myself asking, “I’m at Ebisu General, right?”

Doctor Irie nodded. I could feel my face getting hot, panic setting in. This had to be a dream. There was no other explanation but it didn’t feel like any dream I’d ever had.

“Have we met before?”

“No. Your reputation precedes you,” I lied.

In actuality, I’d spent hours with Soichiro Irie. I’d been in the man’s apartment. I watched him fall in love. I knew more about him than he probably knew about himself.

Yet here I was, unable to tell him the truth (that he was merely a character in a game) without sounding certifiably insane. Even if this was a dream, the last thing I wanted to do was be shipped off to the psychiatric ward of Ebisu General, so...I lied.

He blushed faintly at the compliment, and crossed his arms just like his sprite did, except in real life he felt closer to the published age of 40 than he ever did in the game. There were slight crow’s feet around his eyes and as he shook his head with a placid smile, I could see the wrinkles hiding behind his hair that fell across his forehead.

“Oh no. I’m sure that’s not true” he said softly.

The Japanese modestly I’d experienced in these games came through loud and clear in that one moment. It was sweet - quite different from the confident and often unwarranted conceit most American men doled out.

“Doctor Irie, I...have a bit of a strange question. I feel ok but...what language am I speaking?”

Doctor Irie cocked his head to the side, “Japanese. You’re in Tokyo after all.”

“I see. You wouldn’t happen to have a mirror...would you?”

As he left to find a hand mirror, I racked my brain at how implausible it was that I’d be speaking Japanese. It had to be a crazy dream, perhaps I was even in a coma, and my mind suddenly placed me in the universe of these games.

In fact, it was entirely possible that I’d been playing one when I blacked out in my world. But...I couldn’t shake the feeling that everything going was far too real to be something entirely contrived by my own brain and its memories of various games I’d played months ago.

Doctor Irie returned with a mirror that revealed that I still looked as I’d remembered. He also brought the items I’d had on me when I’d collapsed - a phone, a coat, and the stupid knit hat I’d stitched in 9th grade and kept for whatever reason. The phone booted up but all my apps were replaced by knockoffs like Skaipe, Tweeter, and Chatsnap. I shook my head, dejected upon seeing this.

I was hoping my phone would be something that would link me to the real world from which I came, but outside of that dumb knit hat, everything else was a gamified version. I sighed loudly and Doctor Irie studied my face with concern.

“So...am I able to leave now?” I asked.

“We’d prefer if you stayed until you’re better. Plus we’ll need your insurance card and -”

“I’m afraid I don’t have my wallet on me,” I quickly cut him off.

“Well, we can look your information up. What’s your name?”

I paused. There’d be no record of me in this world. I thought carefully before replying.

“Naruko...Sasaki,” I said. Or was it Sasaki Naruko? I could never get it straight but it didn’t really matter. Doctor Irie nodded and scribbled her name on my chart before writing something else on his notepad.

“Here,” he said, handing me a paper with a number on it. “If you get into trouble, or need a place to stay, or feel sick again just give me a call.”

For a moment, it crossed my mind that if I called this number, I would be entering Doctor Irie’s route in this world. I wasn’t prepared for that, not because I didn’t like him, but because I had more important things to think about than romancing a fictional doctor. I needed to get home.

I did my best to bow graciously, self-conscious the entire time, and slightly worried that someone would call me out for cultural appropriation.

“Thank you Doctor Irie.”

The first thing I did once I left Ebisu General was pray to the Wishes Gods. When none of them showed up, or even gave me an inclination that they'd heard my wish to be sent home, I formulated a new plan. I found an empty park bench that was shaded by a Revance billboard, and wrote down every single potential guy I’d ever played with the knowledge that I was in the voltage universe in order to figure out what my next best bet would be.

You’d think that being the MC in a real-life-game would be fairly exciting but I promise you, it isn’t. Instead, I found myself fairly stressed out once the realization set in that in order to survive long enough to formulate a plan to get sent home I was going to need to approach the more dangerous characters in this universe. When you’re playing from the comfort of your home it doesn’t matter that your love interest is borderline abusive, or in the mafia, or a criminal mastermind. However, when you’re in the actual game, it’s a lot more stressful than you’d think to approach one of these guys.

I knew what I had to do if I was to survive here. I jogged up to the next nondescript Person 1 and asked, “Excuse me, can you point me in the direction of the Tray Spades?”

“You mean the Tres Spades?”

“Whatever.”

The pixilated version of the hotel had looked pretty good on my iPhone as I played at home, but being there in person was something else. 

I’d been lucky enough to travel and stay in some luxurious hotels in my world, but the Tres Spades was like nothing I’d ever seen in my life. It was fair to say that depending on who you asked, it was either a garish eyesore or the most opulent hotel you’d ever laid eyes on. I was still trying to decide for myself as waited in the lobby for my target.

If everything went according to plan my time at the Tres Spades would end in false papers, a temporary job (with housing if I remembered correctly), and no involvement in the auctions. But that was only if things went according to plan and I reminded myself that they rarely do. 

I was still mulling it all over when I saw him, or I suppose more accurately, he saw me.

“Excuse me Miss.”

His maroon jacket was even tackier in person but I found him to be more handsome than his sprite gave him credit for. Sure his real voice was actually a bit smarmy, and his mannerisms reeked of a guy who spent far too long reading Neil Strauss’ The Game, but that was to be expected.

“Yes?”

“Are you waiting for someone? Me...perhaps?”

It was impossible for me to hold back my disgusted sigh. Baba in person was so much lamer than he ever read.

“Ahahahaha,” a young man cackled, practically doubled over. “Look at how disgusted she looks!”

“Oh no I didn’t mean...” 

I desperately tried backtracking but it was no use. I’d never been good at hiding my emotions and it would seem today was no different. Unfortunately for me, if I was going to have any chance in this world, I’d need to significantly improve my acting skills.

“Don’t apologize!” He exclaimed, tears beginning to roll down his cheeks, “That was the funniest thing I’ve seen all day.”

“You don’t need to rub it in Ota,” Baba pouted.

It surprised me that I liked Ota more in person. He struck me as boyish and mischievous in a way that was far more charming than Baba’s insincere pick up artist act. 

As I panicked internally, racking my brain how to get these interactions back on track, the two bantered with each other. Ota teased Baba mercilessly, who in turn desperately tried to recover from the embarrassment of Ota having witnessed him crash and burn in front of a girl.

“Please,” I grabbed the sleeve of Baba’s gaudy maroon jacket all the while putting on my best damsel in distress expression. “I’m actually looking for someone who stays at this hotel. Do you work here?”

The two stopped arguing and Baba looked at me, genuinely surprised. There was silence for a moment and then Ota burst out laughing again

“Ahahahaha! She thinks you work here!”

Collectively Baba and I shared a sigh, and then a smile. He took his hat off and gave me a little bow, then a wink, and said, “At your service.”

“This might sound...a little crazy but I’m looking for a guy, his name is…”

I pretended to rack my brain and my act seemed to be working as Baba appeared to hang on my every word.

“...Lupin?” I whispered.

Baba’s eyes widened slightly, and his cheeks flushed. Ota, still chuckling to himself gave Baba a slap on the back.

“The old man finally catches a break.”

With that, Ota strolled out through the double doors of the hotel lobby, and I found myself being offered Baba’s arm.

“Follow me.”

There was no turning back now. But if I was going to have any chance of getting myself home, taking his arm was my only option.

So I took it.

Continue reading - Part 2