#and cole being like a ticking time bomb

[squidsquadlove]

wip wednesday? wip wednesday.

SidNate arranged pregnancy A/B/O, part 1

(part 2)

"Let me bring him up for Canada Day. He'll be riding high after the draft. It'll be private. You won't have to get to know him in front of any cameras. And it'll be the usual workout on PEI, so the day won't be a total waste if one of you decides you can't go through with it."

Sid finishes his set and racks the weights again. "What happens to him if I call it off?"

"They'll find him somebody else. There's enough alphas to go around. I hear Giroux's open again--"

"They are not reassigning my omega to fucking Giroux--"

"He wouldn't be your omega then," Andy says. "Grab a dumbbell and do some step-ups."

The explosive motion feels good; Sid's still growling. It's not like he's really going to back out; he owes the league a lot, and this is about the future of the sport and making sure an omega coming into the league doesn't have the kind of shitty experiences they did back in Mario's day. And the fact that they found a kid from Cole Harbour is pretty amazing; what are the odds?

He finishes the step-ups and sighs. "Okay. Canada Day. But if he's not into it, I'll see what I can do to get him off the hook."

"Sounds fair. Sixty seconds and then do the other side."

Sid glances up at the clock on the wall and nods, watching time tick by.

---

Nate's up in the stands with his parents and his sister, trying not to bounce his leg, trying to keep a neutral expression on his face, trying not to let anyone know that he's fucking terrified.

It's not taking the next step of his career. He's ready for that. He's ready to be in the NHL. He's been working his entire life for this, ever since he first put on a pair of skates. He made it through years of alphas harassing him and cross-checking him, played two years at Shattuck, spent two years fucking dominating the Q, and now he's absolutely fucking going to get drafted. Today. First round. No question.

But he wants it to be Colorado. He wants to be the first omega to get drafted first-overall in almost a decade. If it's Colorado, it'll mean both first-overall omegas on one team, and they can pull up the Avalanche and take them to the Cup, and fuck everybody who doesn't think omegas can play.

By the time Joe Sakic gets up to the microphone, Nate's forcing himself to breathe in through his nose and out through his mouth, and trying not to puke.

"...and with that being said, the Colorado Avalanche are proud to select, with our first pick, from the Halifax Mooseheads--"

Could be Jo. Could be Jo. God, please--

"--Nathan MacKinnon."

There's no need to put a brave smile on; Nate's so relieved and so fucking happy he can hardly see straight. He hugs his dad, his mom, his sister-- his dad, again, holding on hard while his dad says, "I'm so proud of you, you worked so hard for this"-- and then he's up on the stage, he's shaking hands with Gary Bettman, he's putting on a Colorado Avalanche jersey with his arms around Patrick fucking Roy and Joe Sakic, and he's not sure anything in his career has ever, ever felt this good before.

He makes it through a whirlwind of interviews, mouth on autopilot for most of it, remembering to hold back any f-bombs and to say the right things. By the time he makes it back to the room where the families are gathered, though, he's not exhausted. He's energized as hell, wanting to get going, get training, wishing training camp were starting the next day.

#sidnate #wip wednesday #fic by me

[foxx-queen]

it honestly sucks that the things that would make an avvar inquisitor so good are probably also the things that stopped them from considering an avvar origin

the avvar are basically completely outside chantry influence. theres no negative reactions to being a mage, a dwarf, an elf or a qunari. we know they have a close relationship with the dwarves, that they treat magic with respect and without fear, and that their founder had an elven lover. thane svarah sun-hair mentions that their people have had few dealings with qunari, but that it's nice to not have to look down when they talk. so if an avvar became inquisitor, the whole 'choose between templars or mages' just... wouldn't be a thing? imo, an avvar would look at the breach and be like oh yeah we clearly need mages. people would warn them about magic being dangerous because mages can't be trusted and they'd be like um?? we trust our mages and it's fine?? we literally practice spirit possession for our mages so they can be taught etc and it's?? fine?? we talk to spirits on the regular? what do you mean mages can't be trusted? the advisors would be like oh we need influence to talk to the mages and meanwhile the avvar inquisitor has gone straight to redcliffe to talk to fiona about the breach and how um yeah ur right that mages shouldn't be locked up ur chantry is whack. if they weren't let in they climbed the walls.

they go to val royeaux to talk to the chantry begrudgingly because they don't like the chantry and that revered mother is all the maker would send no barbarian in our hour of need!! and the avvar inquisitor is all?? I mean I don't believe in ur maker but wasn't ur prophet u know. a barbarian? queue outraged french gasps. cassandra slightly disapproves. seras cackling on a balcony.

the avvar inquisitor doesn't want to be called the herald, and gets their beliefs disrespected a lot, but is also probably happy with their role because they're healing the tears in the sky, and thus helping the lady of the skies. there'd be an actual connection for them outside andraste, who despite not accepting as their prophet, they probably have some respect for. the avvar are pretty outspoken about their gods and beliefs from the few interactions we've had with them (probably because they're not oppressed under the chantry) so maybe they're more insistent on being called something to do with the lady of the skies. like the lady's herald or something.

interactions with companions would also be very different. solas tries to do his whole I saw it in the fade thing and the avvar inquisitor, especially if they're a mage, starts to get really suspicious because of their understanding of spirits etc. they love talking to iron bull because he's one of the few non chantry companions and their neck doesn't get sore talking to him. sera reacts to a female avvar the same way she does with a female qunari. they can help sera understand that spirits and magic aren't all demons and things to be scared of, and as a consequence her crisis of faith after the temple of mythal goes very differently. dorian and vivienne are at first both kind of wary of the way an avvar inquisitor talks about magic, but if they become friends they both begin to understand that there are ways of being taught how to resist demons. this is especially impactful for vivienne, who grew up in the circle being told she was a ticking time bomb, and if an avvar inquisitor is friends with her there's the chance to teach her their ways. they're much less weirded out by cole, and since they're so familiar with spirits, maybe they work out he's not simply a spirit earlier on. they probably get close with varric quickly because of the avvars close relationship with dwarves, and they're the one to tell varric stories. blackwall is really interested in hearing about their culture and they sit together around the fire and whittle little animals together. they probably struggle the most with cassandra honestly just because of how pro chantry she is, and after learning about how seekers become seekers they probably call her out on how hypocritical it is of her to be critical of the way their mages are taught by spirits when she herself was possessed by one. they probably start looking into a tranquil cure much earlier, because of their understanding of spirits and possession.

also a lot of avvar seem to have animal companions. I'm just saying an avvar inquisitor could have a pet.

#avvar #dragon age inquisition #dai meta #dragon age #the inquisitor #jaws of hakkon #this kind off track nsskks but like my point is that an avvar inquisitor wouldve reacted to things in a very different #which alas is probs why we didnt get to play as one #aside from u know #bioware being cowards

[ice-emperor-zane]

Nya’s funeral from Cole’s pov because I’ve only actually seen people talking about Jay and Kai’s, I feel like we forgot how everyone’s been affected, there’s also implied glaciershipping ✨

Cole knew the feelings of grief well, he could tell he was in that strange part at the beginning where it doesn’t feel real, he found familiarity in it, and in watching how everyone else was reacting.

It was Nya’s funeral, a cool summer evening with a light breeze. He and the others had just finished the part of the ceremony where they poured water into the urn, Cole wondered wether Nya had become the whole ocean or just a small part of it, wether the water was actually her or just regular water. He decided it didn’t matter, it didn’t make a difference, he was just thinking about trivial things anyway.

They should all be celebrating their victory over Kalmaar and Wojira right now, Nya and Jay should’ve been able to show them all that new dance move they were so exited about, instead of Jay going on a tangent about it through tears. Nya and Kai should’ve been bickering like usual, instead of Kai sitting alone and silent, he really had been quiet since her death, Cole could tell he wasn’t taking it well.

He wasn’t sure what Zane and Lloyd would be doing if she was still here, maybe they wouldn’t be working themselves so hard. Cole remembered Zane’s death, how Lloyd was the only one who didn’t even take time to process what had happened and just continued being a ninja as though everything was fine. Nya had once told him that Lloyd broke when he and the others disappeared to the first realm. Cole imagined that Lloyd was throwing himself into training like after Zane’s death, and that if he was feeling like how Nya saw him, then he was hiding it, and that he didn’t want the others to see him like that.

As for Zane, he really wasnt sure, he’d never seen Zane grieve before, he was quiet like Kai, but Zane was always quiet, so it was difficult to tell. Maybe Zane was like Cole, they both seemed to watch others rather than themselves, no doubt because of Zane’s ability to change his mood at the literal flick of a switch, and Cole’s uncanny ability to just feel numb to these things. Cole knew Zane would have to let himself feel those emotions eventually, and he hoped Zane would let someone be there for him when he did.

Cole began to think, maybe it was because he never dared become that close to Nya, not after that dreaded time when he and Jay fought over her, he found himself always distancing himself. Sure they were friends, but it was nothing like the friendship he had with the others, it felt superficial. He regretted that.

Master Wu stood up to give a speech, a toast to Nya’s life, Cole wondered how many speeches Wu had given over the years. Being alive for millenia must have drawbacks like that. How many Nyas had there been before her? Cole guessed that there were a lot.

Wu’s words felt distant, unintelligible. Like someone trying to explain something when you’re half awake. He wanted to pay more attention, this was Nya’s funeral after all, but he had a hunch he wouldn’t be ready to hear what Wu had to say.

So he didn’t, he let the words blurr together, sitting there in a bit of a daze of calm disbelief, just watching the others to make sure they were okay, occasionally whispering to Jay that it’d be alright or trying to make eye contact with Kai, Zane and Lloyd, without really thinking about it.

He knew he’d miss Nya, and that this was the calm before the storm. In a couple days he’d wake up and feel the need to cry just as much as Jay seemed to right now, Cole guessed he’d just have to deal with that when it happened. He was notorious for disappearing off up a mountain when he got like that, it was a running joke between him and the others because its so specific. It always seemed to make things better, maybe that’s what he’d do.

“You’re thinking of running away.” Zane’s analytical tone of voice always caught Cole off-guard, it felt like he could see right through into everyone’s head, maybe he could, because he was right. Cole stayed silent.

“Wu once told us how you’d distanced yourself from your remaining family and friends when he found you,” he continued “and the others told me about how you did the same after my own death by the overlord, and then again in the never realm.” Zane said it like a simple observation, but Cole could tell it was something more like a warning.

“And so what if I am?” Cole retorted bitterly, and a little more defensively than he intended.

“You’ll end up hurting for way longer.” Zane said matter-of-factly, like they were discussing the weather.

It was then that Cole looked up at Zane and realised the whole funeral had ended, everybody had left or gone inside, Cole was just sat there, alone and lost in thought.

“I just, I don’t know.” Cole stood up abruptly wrapped his arms around Zane, as though afraid he’d disappear. “I’m meant to be sad, but i just don’t feel anything”, his voice muffled, buried into Zane’s chest, and realising as he said it that the fact that he was even having this conversation showed that what he was saying wasn’t true, he really was sad about it all.

They stayed like that for a little while, with Cole’s arms around Zane in the monastery courtyard, occasionally exchanging words. The sun had mostly set, it was getting dark and a little cold so they went inside.

They came in to find the other 3 sprawled over the couch playing video games, Jay’s face still tear-stained, Lloyd looking tired out of his mind, and Kai just quietly immersed in the game. Cole made a vow to himself then and there that he’d be there for them, they had to be there for eachother, this especially included Zane who he was becoming increasingly worried for.

Cole watched as he nagged at Lloyd to go to bed and told the rest of them that they should probably do the same. Zane really never did stop caring about other people over himself, and Cole knew that was mentally unsustainable. Zane was a ticking time bomb, and he really hoped he would let Cole be there for him when that bomb went off.

#im feeling angsty so like. suffer lol 🥰 #lego #ninjago #lego ninjago #cole brookstone #cole ninjago #zane julien #zane ninjago #nya smith #ns15 #ns15 spoilers #seabound #seabound spoilers #ninjago s15 #ninjago s15 spoilers #angst

[gwenbrightly]

It’s the Thought That Counts... Right???

Here’s a short oneshot I wrote inspired by a discussion we were having about post MoTO Garmadon trying to understand holiday traditions.

“Would you like to come in out of the cold… sir?” a tavern keeper called, sticking her head through the doorway of a nearby building. She was staring at him. People always stared at Garmadon, even when he had hidden his oni form under a cloak or other manner of disguise. It wasn’t like it was his fault he was so tall and bulky. Or that he had an extra set of appendages.

He muttered a quick,

“Thank you,” – that was the term used to express gratitude, right? – before following her into the tavern. He couldn’t help but relax as the warmth from the fireplace on the other side of the room washed over him. Music softly played a song about someone named Santa. Garmadon didn’t know who that was, but the villagers must have, because several of them were singing along.

He wandered to a far corner of the tavern and seated himself in a booth. Might as well get comfortable while he warmed himself. Garmadon allowed himself a moment to simply listen to the music and empty his brain of the confusing thoughts and questions about life that so often filled his days. It was nice to relax and enjoy the peaceful atmosphere of the tavern.

“So, stranger, can I get you anything?” the tavern keeper, who’s name tag read Mauve, asked him after a few minutes.

“I’ll take the strongest black coffee you have,” Garmadon answered. He could have ordered tea, he supposed, but it was far more fun to spite his brother. Even if Wu wasn’t actually here to gasp dramatically at his sin.

“Would you like any creamer or sugar?”

Garmadon shook his head in the negative. Mauve scribbled something on her notepad and disappeared into what he assumed was the kitchen.

As he waited for her to return, Garmadon glanced about the tavern. Mauve certainly had an odd taste in decor. The walls were lined with strands of greenery and little red berries. There was a tree coated in glittery froufrou near the fireplace. Why anyone would put a tree indoors was beyond him. And why decorate said tree? What purpose could it possibly serve?

“Here’s your coffee, sir,” Mauve announced, pulling Garmadon from his thoughts. She set his drink down on the table, and next to it, an oddly shaped white and red striped object. He stared at it in confusion.

“What is this?” he wanted to know. Mauve had the audacity to laugh as she replied,

“Have you… never seen a candy cane before?”

For the first time in a long time, Garmadon had a sudden desire to stab something. With immense self restraint, he decided to focus on the issue that was least likely to get him arrested – the nature of this… cane made of candy.

“Candy cane?” he repeated, trying to hide his curiosity. Mauve smiled at him.

“Yes. It’s a peppermint flavored sugar made in the shape of a cane. Candy canes are a Christmas staple.”

Christmas. Garmadon vaguely remembered overhearing talk of the holiday in one of the other villages he’d passed through. It was another mystery of the universe he had yet to unravel.

“Ah.”

“Well, if you need anything else, I’ll be over working the counter.” Mauve said, nodding her head towards the bar, where several families sat doing… something. Garmadon waited until she was gone to unwrap the candy cane and give it a tentative lick. Too sweet, yet somehow bitter at the same time. He wasn’t impressed. Taking a swig of coffee to rid himself of the taste, he stared out the window at the snowflakes that lazily drifted on the winter breeze. Most humans would probably say the view was beautiful. As much as he hated to admit it, he was beginning to see why they enjoyed the season so much.

15 minutes and an entire cup of coffee later, Garmadon meandered towards the bar. Staring out the window could only hold his attention for so long before he grew bored and now he was looking for something new to occupy him. Mauve glanced up from the papers she was folding.

“Ready for a refill?”

“Thank you, but no,” Garmadon told her, tossing a few coins on the counter as payment for his drink. The tavern keeper nodded thoughtfully.

“Would you like to join us in making Christmas cards, then?” she inquired motioning at the array of materials being used by several of the tavern’s patrons, “You don’t seem like the type, but I’m happy to get you the supplies if you’re interested.”

Garmadon eyed her skeptically.

“Tell me about these… Christmas cards.”

“You really don’t know much about Christmas, do you?” Mauve commented, more to herself than to him. He cleared his throat awkwardly.

“I…”

“That’s okay! We’ll teach you all about it!” offered the child sitting on the nearest stool, giving him a huge grin.

“You really don’t have to-” Garmadon began to protest. Mauve cut him off.

“Oh, no. Kelly is right. We’re teaching you how to make Christmas cards, and then you’re learning at least one Christmas carol.”

Garmadon groaned, but half-heartedly allowed himself to be taught the arts of card making. It wouldn’t be his best work, oh no, for he definitely wasn’t ready to admit that he maybe kind of cared about Lloyd – or for Lloyd to realize that he cared. But it was a start. After all, people kept telling him there was more to life than surviving.

 ______________________

Thunk! Thunk! Bang!

“We must have a visitor,” noted Lloyd just as a snowball hit him in the face. “Rude,” he complained. Kai sniggered, earning him a vicious glare from both his sister and the Green Ninja.

Bang! There was another knock on the gates.

“Perhaps we should call a truce and let whoever is out there in before they break the gates down,” Zane suggested before Lloyd could plan a counterattack. Cole nodded, dropping his own snowball as he spoke.

“That’s probably wise.”

The others sighed, but refrained from continuing their snowball fight. Their companions were right and they were curious to see who had made the icy trek up the mountainside to the monastery. Lloyd shot Kai his best we’ll continue this later and made for the gates just as another knock sounded.

“Could you be any more impatient?” he muttered under his breath. Giving one of the gates a tug inward, he was greeted by the mailman, who was looking at his wristwatch in annoyance.

“About time,” the mailman said, brushing past Lloyd without saying hello.

“Hello, Mr. Mailman! Would you like to come inside for some hot cocoa?” Zane greeted brightly. The mailman shook his head vigorously.

“No, no. I have lots of other deliveries to make, what with it being the holidays and all. Not to mention, I’m not entirely convinced this package doesn’t contain a bomb, and I’d rather not stick around to find out,” he replied hurriedly. The ninja glanced at each other.

“Why?”  “Who’s it for?”

Cole and Jay asked at the same time.

“The package is addressed to the Green Ninja himself,” the mailman stated, shoving it at Lloyd with considerable delicacy, “if it is a bomb, please don’t bother filing a complaint with the Bureau of Mail Delivery and Package Sending. Remember. I’m just the messenger,” and with that, the mailman was gone.

“That was… odd,” commented Nya, raising an eyebrow. Lloyd hummed thoughtfully as he stared at the package the mailman had been so desperate to be rid of.

“It’s the mailman, sis. He’s always kinda kooky if you ask me,” Kai said, unconcerned. Silence fell as the group gathered around their brother to get a closer look at the package.

“It’s – it’s from my father…” Lloyd announced after a moment, completely shocked. No one knew quite how to respond to this news. The last time they’d seen Garmadon had been while Lloyd was still unconscious after the battle with the Oni. He hadn’t even bothered to say goodbye. And to be perfectly honest, no one was really sure they could trust the warlord not to continue his deceitful ways.

“Ah. Well, that explains the mention of a potential bomb threat, then,” Zane observed.

“Yeah…” Lloyd coughed awkwardly.

“So… are you gonna chuck it off the mountain and watch for a mushroom cloud? Or are you gonna open it and hope for the best?” Jay asked ever so tactfully. Lloyd thought for a moment before replying.

“Hhh… Kai, do me a favor and grab those tongs you keep in the forge. We’re gonna need em’.”

The master of fire was quick to follow Lloyd’s instructions and returned momentarily with a sturdy, and especially long, pair of tongs. Everyone took a step back as Lloyd set the package in a patch of snow away from anything important (his uncle would kill him if he accidentally set something on fire so close to Christmas). He gripped the tongs tightly and edged them carefully toward one end of the package.

“Here goes nothing,” Lloyd whisperer, snagging a flap of packaging and ripping it upwards. The seconds ticked by, but nothing exploded, beeped, or vibrated. He poked the package. Still, nothing. Curiosity getting the better of him, Lloyd pulled the rest of the dirty brown wrapping away from the contents of the package.

“Candy canes?” Lloyd couldn’t believe what he was seeing. Why on earth would Garmadon send him candy canes?

“There’s a card, too,” Nya said, plucking an envelope from the torn packaging. She passed it to Lloyd, who tentatively opened it.

“Dear Loyd,

The anoying villagers here tell me it is customarie to send cards to people you… people you’re related to. I don’t know why I’m alloweing them to dictate my life, but here:” Lloyd read aloud from the front of the folded piece of paper, struggling to make sense of the messy handwriting and questionable spelling. And, more so, struggling to understand what was happening. He had long ago lost any hope that he and Garmadon could ever go back to what they had once been. Had believed that their formerly loving relationship was permanently dead.

Biting his lip, Lloyd unfolded the envelope. The drawing inside was quite possibly the most hilariously insulting caricature of himself that Lloyd had ever seen. His initial shock at receiving a gift (?) from Garmadon was replaced with a squeak of laughter. He couldn’t help it; the image was simply too much for him to take.

“Are you okay, buddy?” Cole asked, concerned by Lloyd’s sudden change in demeanor.

“I-I don’t know,” Lloyd half laughed, half cried. He held out the card so the others could see.

“That’s sure… something else,” Nya commented.

“Yeah. I didn’t realize you had 4 arms, Lloyd,” Kai added, perhaps a bit too entertained by the interesting features Garmadon had given his brother. Nya viciously elbowed his side, but he shrugged unrepentantly. “What? It’s true.”

“Permission to laugh?” Jay asked. He was still ogling the image and Lloyd could tell he was only barely reigning himself in.

“I. Yeah, sure. Go ahead,” Lloyd relented, “I guess it is a pretty hilarious drawing.”

As Jay and Kai took full advantage of the invitation to let their true feelings show, Nya turned to Lloyd.

“Guess you won’t be forgetting this Christmas any time soon, huh?” she asked, a wry smile on her face. Lloyd laughed softly. Maybe this whole thing was a prank, maybe Garmadon had simply wanted to mess with him. But maybe, just maybe, his father was finally learning to care about someone other than himself. And that was a thought Lloyd could cling to on Christmas morning, when he felt the absence of those he had lost most keenly. A thought that gave him hope that perhaps someday, his family might possibly be complete again.

#ninjago #ninjago fanfiction #Garmadon tries to understand Christmas #It has.... mixed results #but he's trying #Lloyd is rightfully confused #Sorry for not including the pizza Vy #Myfics #validate meee #ninjago christmas fic

[lori-the-dragon-ninja]

@ninja-go-to-therapy , I guess I will take this opportunity to torture Koshiro for hurting the cinnamon rolls

//tw: violence, attempted kidnapping, death, murder, koshiro//

Based on devistated because it’s extra angsty that way!

So you know how anger makes powers go out of control? Yeah, angering a demigod was a baaaaaaad idea,,,

(this also includes some hc I have for Lloyd powers)

———

Lloyd loved going out to the park.

It had a beautiful little lake, with pretty fish swimming around, flowers bloomed everywhere and the birds would sing beautifully!

It was simply… peaceful.

The only problem is that it left him alone with his thoughts. And the only things that he’s been thinking about for the last couple years were depressing. His friends, no, his brothers, they were gone.

gone

No, they weren’t gone! They couldn’t have been. He won’t loose hope! He’s going to find them. He promised himself that he would find Cole and that he would find Kai and everything is going to be okay. Everything will be back to normal and they will be happy. They will be a happy family again. He won’t break that promise.

Who was he kidding?

At this point Lloyd was sure that he was just repeating a lie, over and over again, just to comfort himself.

No.

Ninja never quit, he won’t give up on them, because they wouldn't give up on him. He won't give up, even if he wishes that he could. He wishes he would just accept it and move on with his life already, but he can't. Ninja don't leave friends behind.

This isn’t why he came here. He snuck out because he wanted to get away from all these thoughts… clearly it wasn’t working.

He decided that going on a walk might help. It doesn’t hurt to try. Nothing really hurt anymore, he just feels numb.

He was right, walking did beat sitting on a bench feeling sorry for himself.

He'd only been walking for a few minutes before he heard a voice behind him.

“Excuse me!”

Lloyd turned around to see a tall young man approaching him.

“I’m sorry to bother you but, are you the green ninja?”

Oh great, another fan. Lloyd didn’t really like being in the spotlight or interacting with strangers in general. Nonetheless, the man seems excited to meet him. He’s used to fans, they ask a couple questions, ask for a selfie and an autograph and are gone as fast as they showed up. Besides, he didn’t want to be rude.

“The one and only! How may I help you?”

“I’m just such a big fan! I’ve been admiring you for quite some time now!”

Lloyd decided to keep walking with the man following next to him. He has been sitting around enough. Besides, the man didn't seem to mind walking with him.

Something about this guy did seem fishy, but he was probably just paranoid. He has been quite paranoid since-

“Oh I’m so glad to finally meet you! You ninja are so amazing! I must have a lot of luck! First Black, then Red and soon Green!”

Oh, he met Cole and Kai before. Well, there goes any chance Lloyd will have a break from thinking about them. He should try to ignore the comment. It was rude of the man to say it, since everyone already knows they disappeared, but he shouldn't ruin the man's day with a rude attitude.

But the way the man worded it is quite strange. “soon green"? What's that supposed to mean? Perhaps he’s collecting autographs or photos with the team? Yeah, that’s probably it, some fans do that. But this man is just giving Lloyd such a weird feeling. Something is off. He should ask him to clear it up

“Oh, you’ve met them before?”

“Yeah, a couple years ago!”

“Did you get pictures, autographs?”

“Well, I have gotten many pictures over time!”

Over time? What does he mean by that? Is Lloyd overthinking this? Perhaps if he causally asked about it without it sounding too obvious?

“That’s nice! Making a collection?”

“Well, yes. I already have Black and Red, and I will soon have Green!”

“Um? You're collecting photos of ud? Would you like a picture with me? I can sign it for yo-"

“Oh, I don’t think you understand, I'm not here for photos. I mean can't have any photos of you looking like that. I have to make you look pretty for me first!"

Before Lloyd got the chance to ask him what that was supposed to mean, he felt a powerful grip around his neck. He tried to scream, but a rag was placed over his mouth and nose. It smelled funny, Lloyd knew too well that this would knock him out in a couple minutes. No matter how much he struggled, he couldn’t get the man off of him.

“Shhh, shhh, it’s okay Green, it’s okay!” his voice trying to soothe him sounded disgusting “don’t be scared, I will take such good care of you!”

Take care of him? What does that even mean? And was he culling him while trying to knock him out?

“You'll be such a wonderful pet!”

Pet?

“Oh you don’t have to struggle! You’ll just get tired pet! Don’t worry, I’ll train you to be calmer and obeying. Just like I trained Black and Red!”

He- he did what?

He took them. He’s the one.

Lloyd didn’t even acknowledge his kidnapper's words anymore. He zoned out.

He took them.

All he felt was rage. He didn’t hear the attempt to calm him, he didn’t hear the confusion, nor the sudden scream of pain.

No, but he did feel the cold darkness surrounding him. A shadowy fog coming out of his body. He felt pain in his entire body, he felt it changing, but he didn’t care. This man took away his brothers.

-----

Koshiro didn’t worry when Green turned pale, he was about to pass out so it was normal!

But he did start to worry when his skin darkened, and he could swear Green’s eyes were red. He couldn’t get a good look because he suddenly felt a sharp pain in the arm he was holding Green with.

The pain made him let go. It made his vision blur and he collapsed. It was agonizing. Green would definitely get a stern punishment for this!

He was just about to get back up and yell at Green for daring to hurt his new master, but when he looked up-

The- the thing starting down at him wasn’t human. No. It was huge, with glowing red eyes, black scales, grey horns, huge jaws, standing on two big feet (claws? Talons? He wasn’t sure what to call them) with four arms- no two more claws and two wings.

It was- it was some kind of monster. Like a demonic dragon.

-----

Lloyd wasn’t even sure what was going on. The man was now tiny, everything was, and he was frozen in terror. Good.

“Where are they!? Where are my brothers!? What did you do to them!?”

Silence. Everything was dark and silent.

“Where and Cole and Kai? Where. Are. They? Answer me!?”

-----

The creature's voice was familiar. Green? It sounded like him, but- more demonic. How did this happen?

“I- I won’t say! You- you will try to, to take them from- from me! They’re mine! My pets! They- they- you won’t take them!”

-----

The man was clearly not going to give an honest answer.

Well, it looks like Lloyd is just going to have to persuade him.

He raised his head and spread his wings. The darkness that surrounded him started to spread out around the two of them. Everything it touched- the grass, trees, flowers- withered away and perished. It slowly spread, careful not to touch the man. No- Lloyd won’t give him such an easy way out.

Soon the cloud surrounded them and it was pitch black, except for the red eyes and a tiny purple light shining from Lloyd’s chest. The light that slowly spread across his body. Across his chest, down his belly and back, all the way down his tail, up his wings, and slowly building it’s way up his neck towards his mouth.

It was a surge of destruction, fuelled by rage, a ticking bomb waiting to explode. He could feel the power building up, getting stronger.

All he had to do was open his mouth and he would be gone. It was so simple, yet he couldn’t get himself to do it. Not yet.

-----

Koshiro was frozen in horror as the creature started to glow, inching closer to him. He knew this beast wouldn’t hesitate to end him.

If it did-

No!

His pets would be left alone! Without their master! No, he couldn’t let that happen! He had to tell this beast where they were. Yes, he would end up in jail, but he could break out and rescue his pets the first chance he gets!

“They’re in my basement!”

The beast paused, now standing still, the light no longer growing.

“It’s- it’s a small house in the- in the Blackwood forest.”

The light from the creature started to fade out.

“It’s a two story wooden house on the north side of the village. The village is a few miles east from here! You can’t miss it!”

The light faded out completely, the only visible thing were the monsters glowing red eyes. It let out a horrifying chuckle.

“Thank you. But you didn’t really think you would get out of this so easily, did you?”

Before Koshiro realized what the creature meant by that, shadowy tentacles grabbed him and a purple light flashed and quickly found it’s way from the chest, up the neck and out of the beasts jaw.

He wasn’t sure what was worse, the cold from the tentacles or the heat of the destructive flame. The only thing he really cared about was what would happen to his precious pets now that he was gone.

———

Hope you enjoyed reading my shitty 2-3 AM sleep deprived fic because inspiration hits at the worst times!

Yes, Lloyd can transform into a demonic dragon. Koshi is gone. Lloyd managed to track down his house with the help of the scent of Koshiro's remains. They found and rescued Cole and Kai and lived happily ever after.

(Or, you know, happily for a few weeks before Ninjago got attacked again)

#don't mess with Lloyd's bros #don't mess with Lloyd either #he get angwey #tw: death #tw: attempted kidnapping #tw: implied past kidnapping #tw: implied past brainwashing #tw: Koshiro #tw: murder #tw: violence #Koshiro slapathon

[shootwinterfest]

we only have this moment

Shoot Secret Santa by @youre-lacking-vitamin-me!

Despite their day jobs (or maybe because of them), Root and Shaw manage to hit all the “normal” relationship milestones. In their own way, of course.

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

LOVE LETTERS

(the way to a girl’s heart is long and winding, especially if it’s her digestive tract)

The postcard sticks out like a sore thumb.

Probably because it’s in-between six hundred kilos of cocaine, John thinks, not bothering to put on gloves as he reaches for the glossy paper. It’s probably fine: there are fingerprints on everything from the steering wheel to the tiny plastic baggies in the dealers’ coat pockets – they probably won’t need some horribly kitschy postcard with a generic beach background and a WordArt ‘Havana!’ on it for evidence.

It’s the kind of thing that diplomatically-minded people – people like Finch – would gently suggest exchanging for a different one, maybe one that looks less dated? Slightly less tactful individuals, not to mention names but – okay, Shaw – on the other hand, would probably set it on fire.

John sighs and turns it around to look for an address or maybe a name or any identi – oh God.

The back – if at all possible – is worse: it’s literally covered in those pointy S’s he vaguely remembers sketching on his notebooks back in middle school. Hundreds of iterations of the same letter, in various sizes, are littered across the surface. It looks like a high school desk; or worse, one of those rappers nowadays with all the facial tattoos.

He tucks it into his jacket pocket, shuddering at the thought of having to choose between paperwork and Shaw’s wrath. But there’s no escaping it, so he trudges down the alley that will seal his fate.

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

Back at the subway station, he drops The Abomination™ as he passes by Shaw. It flutters – turns in the air – catches on a breeze that smacks it into the wall – floats lazily down to land just left of her foot. She doesn’t even glance at it.

“Pick up your trash,” is what he gets instead.

“It’s not trash,” is all John gets out before he remembers that yes, yes it is; it is absolute garbage and why do they even keep picking them up? He motions to an alcove where four other sheets of pointy S-adorned paper – a scrunched-up note, an advertisement flyer, some high schooler’s art project, a torn bit of newspaper – hang menacingly. “It’s another one of those.”

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

Three weeks, seven papers and two rolls of masking tape later, a form begins to take shape.

“It’s a heart,” Harold remarks, and it’s the absolute wrong thing to say, judging by the way Shaw is reaching for the gun on her thigh. “I mean! It… is? But who would –”

“Three guesses, Finch,” Shaw grinds out.

John adds, “And the first two don’t count.”

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

“Don’t you think it’s romantic?” 

“It’s creepy.”

“But it’s how everyone in middle school used to get a date!”

“Like that didn’t just prove ‘creepy’,” John mutters.

Shaw doesn’t pay him any attention, “You’re taking dating advice from how fourteen year-olds ask each other out? Twenty years ago?!”

“Worked back then,” Root shrugs, mildly offended that her masterpiece isn’t being appreciated. Fourteen hundred and six pointy S’s – the initials of Sameen Shaw – and counting. It looks beautiful up on the subway wall – could use a little more lighting, and the last piece, of course… and apparently more masking tape, considering Sameen just ripped the whole thing down the middle.

“This,” Shaw shakes the offending swathe of paper and launches it onto the subway tracks, “is not how you get someone to go out on a date with you,” she spits out, marching off with John and Harold limping after her. 

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

That’s what she says… until the last piece arrives as a large stuffed-crust pizza decorated with a pointy S made of pepperoni slices. With Root in full pizza delivery girl getup.

She tips her cap, “How about now, Sam?”

Shaw’s cheeks are bursting, her eyes roving up and down the red uniform. “… only if there’s more pizza involved.”

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

SLEEPING TOGETHER

(love may not mean letting them walk all over you, but it does mean being a mattress once in a while)

Sameen can barely blink herself awake before she hears the stressed, “Don’t move, Miss Shaw,” from six feet to her left.

“Finch, wha-”

“Don’t. Move.”

Something kicks into overdrive. She’s been in this situation before. Given, only a handful of times, and she’d been lucky to have expert bomb defusers near her the first two and Cole the last time around, but she’s survived stepping on pressure plates and triggering trip wires – now’s no different.

Except it is. A cursory glance around shows her she’s still in the subway, there is no call to panic stations, and nobody is ordering her to stand on the edge of her foot for the foreseeable future – probably because she’s lying down.

Until she sees who is next to her in the makeshift bed. And groans. Because of course she’s here now, after weeks of radio silence and general wondering where the hell the other woman had pissed off to next.

Sameen doesn’t realise it now – won’t realise it until it’s much, much too late – but somehow, Root is everywhere: hidden amongst the computer junk and too-big clothes flung left, right and centre across their – the, not their – apartment, collected as notes and pictures in-between the pages her copy of Rubáiyát of Omar Khayyám… and possibly in whatever remains of her heart.

And now she’s also tucked into Shaw’s side, clutching a fistful of tank top and drooling on have-seen-better-days blue sheets. Also hogging all the blankets.

“Really, Finch?”

“Shh sh sh sh shhhh!!!!!” he motions wildly with his arms and touches a finger to his mouth in what she assumes is supposed to be a placating gesture. Shaw flops down none too gently, but it does the trick, and he continues, “Miss Groves returned yesterday evening after a run-in with some of Samaritan’s agents – her friends, Mister Casey and Mister Daizo – were able to apprehend them before they could do any real damage… other than that to themselves.” He turns a little green at the thought of Samaritan’s lunatics offing themselves, but composes himself. “She’s busy sleeping off whatever drug cocktail they injected her with, although judging by her recent sleep patterns, it might be a while before she wakes up.”

Shaw only raises an eyebrow.

Finch swallows, clears his throat. “Miss Groves needs this sleep, Miss Shaw, so if you could find it within yourself to stay still for a few more hours…” his gaze drifts off to the mess of brown curls spread across the pillows, “… it would be much appreciated.”

Shaw rolls her eyes, tries to shift so Root is lying less on her arm and more on her own. It doesn’t work. Not exactly the way she planned on spending her Thursday morning, but – 

“What about Mister…” Food. Something about food. Pasta? Couscous? “… our current target?”

“Ah, yes! As luck would have it, Mister Reese has already apprehended Mister Rice, the gentleman you were following yesterday, and we haven’t received another number yet.”

The mark’s name has Shaw’s stomach growling; a corner of Finch’s mouth ticks up.

“Is there anything I can get you that could help during these… trying times?” he asks, doing his best not to piss Shaw off any more, but still not willing to quite give up on the teasing tone.

“Burrito… s. And Bear.” She glances at the cocoon Root has managed to tangle herself up into. “… and another blanket.”

“Right away, Miss Shaw,” he motions for Bear to come, asks him to zit, Bear! Mooie hond! En ga maar slapen – blif hier, grabs his hat and the last bedspread on the table, offers it to the angry assassin before taking his leave.

Harold pretends not to notice Sameen tucking the blankets more securely around Root as he closes the door behind him.

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

MEETING THE PARENTS

(a mother always knows)

“Sameen?” Root startles, and instantly knows she’s screwed up.

The woman in front of her stands ramrod still, using oh-so familiar eyes to rove over her leather jacket and the laptop in her free hand and the way she shifts to adjust her falling bra strap. They linger on the visible portion of her cochlear implant (Root wants to curl her fingers up to her ear and push her hair back over the offending instrument, but she’s terrified that a single move will send the lady running, and she can’t have that – not yet) before meeting her eyes; beautiful, but so, so guarded.

The accent is obvious, and the grammar isn’t perfect, but the words shake something deep in her core anyway, “I am sorry, but afraid I am not my daughter.”

And Root knows that – because Shaw is three thousand miles away, pulling herself through an air vent while shouting profanities loudly enough that she might as well be right next to her; Root’s arm, along with the phone, falls to her side, the still-connected call forgotten.

It’s like looking twenty years into the future, wondering if she’ll ever get the opportunity to see the real thing. Nothing and no-one is safe, as the hundreds of scars between them prove time and time again, but right now, she’s looking into an older woman’s eyes and finds some part of Sameen staring right back.

Until she isn’t. The tinny sound of Sameen’s voice yelling “Root! Where the fuck did you go? Oi, Root!”  forces those eyes to the phone in Root’s hand, and she shouldn’t be able to see the screen lighting up with Sam scrawled all over it, but for whatever reason, she’s smiling anyway. It’s almost like she knows – 

A mother always knows, Sam, Root hears her own mother say to a girl who no longer exists.

Brown eyes lift back up, twinkling in amusement. “She has always had terrible potty mouth, that one.” The woman turns to leave, but gives Root a once-over, calculating, appraising. There’s a grin tugging at the corners of her mouth. “Take good care of her, Miss Root,” she murmurs, and then she’s gone as quickly as she appeared. 

Four minutes and fifty-three seconds too late, a young woman standing just outside of Houston’s city centre whispers, “Yes, Mrs Shaw,” to no-one but herself.

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

HAVING CHILDREN

(or, well, you know; dealing with the one that actually matters)

“You know, when you said that you’d be ‘coming around sometime this week’, I kind of expected it to be for a ‘haven’t seen you in three years; how’ve you been?’ reason rather than a ‘one of your classmates is next in line to be head of the Bartonelli crime syndicate but their half-whatever wants them dead so here I am to save the day’ reason.”

Shaw blinks at Gen over the rim of her milkshake. Wonders whom she has to sleep with around here to have her drink Irished up so she doesn’t need to have this conversation. Then she remembers that she’s in a McDonalds and that alcohol consumption is frowned upon at eleven in the morning and that Root is the Machine-only-knows-where, so there goes that plan.

Gen doesn’t give up, “Where’re John and Mr Finch?”

“Unavailable.”

“So why are you here?”

“Lovely question.” She slurps at the milkshake

Gen leans to the left, trying to get a glimpse of whatever is down the aisle. Her eyebrows shoot up into her hairline at whatever she sees, “Why’s Miss Davenport here?”

“Who?”

“Dee eye-thea teasha,” Gen supplies through a mouthful of burger. Some swallowing later, she repeats, “The IT teacher. Well, one of them. She’s new – all the boys and even some of the girls are madly in love with her because she’s got gorgeous brown hair and wears really tight jeans.” She gnaws on her lip and contemplates her burger before continuing, “And if rumours are to be believed, she hacked her way into the county test score database and gave everybody forty-two percent.”

“She sounds familiar.”

“She’s also walking towards us.”

Shaw turns around just as someone – Miss Davenport? – appears at her shoulder and bends down to push a straw into what’s left of her melting milkshake. A manicured hand wraps around the glass, displacing the condensation, and Shaw follows it to a pale arm to the sleeve of a black blouse to –

“Hi, Sameen,” Root hums, and presses a kiss to Shaw’s cheek.

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

“Aren’t you going to introduce us, Sam?”

Root looks like butter wouldn’t melt in her mouth. Shaw wants a drink with an alcohol content of at least 40 percent. Gen is… still gaping.

“Shut your trap – the flies are coming in.”

She does – and promptly bites her tongue. Sameen sighs and pushes her now more milk than shake in Gen’s direction; she moves to begin picking at her now-lukewarm fries, but has to swat away a hand before she can pull the box closer, away from the fry-snatcher (more like try-snatcher) slouching in the booth opposite with her too-tight jeans and gorgeous hair. Shaw would throw a chip at it to ruin in, but the idea of wasted food makes her decide to pop it in her mouth instead.

Root’s still looking at her expectantly, saccharine smile never wavering.

There’s a huge chunk of burger in her mouth, so Shaw just nods her head in Gen’s direction, “Djenn,” before kicking the hacker under the table, introducing her as, “Woot.” She swallows and glares, picking at her teeth. “Don’t discuss. Some of us are still eating.”

They don’t. They start talking about her instead.

Which is infinitely worse.

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

“Why Regina Bartonelli, anyway?” huffs Gen as she trudges up the stairs to her dormitory, playing with her keys to find the right one.

“Why not Regina Bartonelli?” Root counters, smirking, like she knows where this is going. Shaw doesn’t, but she motions at a door, imploring the girl between them to unlock it so she can enjoy the scotch stashed in one of Finch’s computer tower skeletons.

Gen has to think about that. “I… she… it always seems like she’s at the centre of everything. Nicest art project, so everyone crowds around. Her house is apparently so huge it’s bigger than the school!” She tugs the door open. “And, well. She’s pretty much the prettiest girl in our grade…”

Ah.

“And you’ve noticed, have you?” Shaw teases. Gen – outraged and burning red to her ears – slams the door in their faces. 

Root swoons dramatically before throwing herself into Shaw’s arms, crocodile tears pricking at the corners of her eyes. “Oh!” she sniffs less-than-delicately, “they grow up so fast, don’t they?” and Sameen bursts out laughing.

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

MEETING THE PARENTS (REPRISE)

(just because the dead can’t hear you, doesn’t mean you didn’t say anything)

“Your daughter’s in love with a sociopath,” Shaw greets the headstone in front of her, and wonders what in seven hells she’s doing.

Although, to be fair, it isn’t like she can have this conversation with anyone else.

Fusco would offer her a confused nod, a pat on the back, and a platitude he’d remembered from whatever book he’s currently skimming over. And maybe a donut he still has left from lunch. Finch would clap his hands over his ears two words into the first sentence. The Machine would use anything she said as information for the next sorry sucker that needs advice. Zoe would tell her to put a ring on it.

That doesn’t really leave anyone. Except maybe John.

Wonderboy is interested, and sympathetic, but she doesn’t know how to explain to someone who has feelings that she’s not doing whatever-this-is with Root because of some weird outpouring of hormones and neurotransmitters and – you know what, she totally is. Why isn’t she having this conversation with John?

She’s halfway into getting up before she realises she drove two hundred miles out of her way to have this not-a-discussion with a dead woman. Back to squatting. Might as well have the talk now.

The wind comes up, tugging at her hair and clothes, throwing dust in the air. Even as she sits here, at the edge of the potter’s field on the outskirts of Bishop, Shaw doesn’t think she could ever understand how forlorn Root must have felt in this town.

Mrs Groves doesn’t say anything. Her name stares back up at Shaw from the small, grey headstone, and in that moment, means absolutely nothing. But this does:

“And, well…,” Sameen pauses, thinks of the words. “I… I think that, if – if I could love anyone… it’d be her.”

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

BEING A FAMILY

(this is love – in finale)

“Excellent food you have here,” Sameen comments before heartily biting into the pepper steak she’d snaffled from the pan. “Really top-notch. Almost like alcohol at parties without adult supervision.”

“Please don’t chew with your mouth full, Miss Shaw,” Harold reprimands reflexively as he puts down the second bowl of roast potatoes, smiling despite himself.

“Oh, never mind, mom is here,” she teases, moving to scoop another helping of spuds on her plate before John can get at them. 

They’re supposed to be celebrating Christmas, because while we may not have a normal lifestyle, we shouldn’t shun the incorporation of at least some normalcy into our lives, some part of Finch’s speech creeps unbidden into her thoughts; even though Shaw doesn’t do Christmas, she does do food and alcohol and good company on the rare occasion such as this one, and it feels warm, comfortable, like home.

There’s some clinking in the background that draws her back to the present, where she hears, “… so if I may make a toast –” Harold invites them all to do as he does, lifts his glass… and says nothing. Despite his ten-minute speech yesterday about embracing the holiday spirit and ensuring we do not lose our moral fibre, he’s completely at a loss for words. Quiet tears begin slipping down his cheeks.

“Hear, hear,” John murmurs, pulling Harold back into his seat. She lifts her glass and tips it in the general direction of the table, turns to Root to do the same. But Root isn’t there.

Well, she is. But not really. She’s lost in the Christmas lights and cheer and atmosphere, looking around as if to capture it all, as if it will all be gone tomorrow. In one go-around, they catch each other’s eye: Root smiles shyly, and Shaw finds herself gazing directly at the insecure twelve year-old girl that’s usually simmering beneath the surface. Her eyes are almost glazed over in wonder at the mess of tinsel and fairy lights and assorted baubles that Bear dragged around the subway earlier this morning. If her mother ever had to see this place, she’d probably have a cadenza. 

But right now: “It’s Christmas, Sameen,” she whispers, fingers grasping at Shaw’s hoodie as if to anchor herself back to the ground.

To help, Sameen shifts closer, presses her leg against Root’s thigh, and tucks their heads together conspiratorially. The now less-full glass is held up, daring Root to bring hers closer, to make sure this is real. 

“Here’s to us,” she grins, and clinks their glasses together.

#shootsecretsanta #shootsecretsanta2018 #shoot #person of interest #youre-lacking-vitamin-me

[moontheoretist]

Circles of Magi - Discussion

I dunno what happened, but I couldn't reblog post about Circles, so I had to create separate post to add something from myself.

@darktemplar84 Don't forget that Felix was not good at magic and we all know what happens to mages in Southern Thedas, when they are not good enough to pass the Harrowing. They go through tranquility or fail the Harrowing and are killed (despite the fact that there may be a way to save them). While in the same time in Tevinter, mage who cannot pass the Harrowing CAN BECOME A SCHOLAR and go to the University of Orlais! It's exactly the case of Minaeve in DAI. If Circles weren't teared down in DAI, she would be made Tranquil, because she was not good enough at magic to pass the Harrowing, but thanks to the Rebellion, she could become kind of the scholar for the Inquisitor. (Vivienne says that Breach is dangerous because it increases chances of possesion, and I cannot argue with that, but as long as mage feels safe, like Minaeve, there is no possesion. It means that possesion can be avoided. I cannot really recall any information about abominations in the Inquisition, despite Cullen and Vivienne being so sure that there will be problem with that, because game doesn’t give this information in the first place). [I like to think that there were none, and that Cullen and Vivienne were utterly surprised.]

About noble families: Warden Amell were noble once. But when their magic manifested, which ended with them being taken to the Circle, they lost the right to hold the title (Connor is in the same boat here). But then if they become a Warden they suddenly can become someone important and in their case it's mostly because Warden's are independent and nobody can tell them what they can or what they can't do, even the Chantry, so when Wardens are granted the right to the Arlat of Amaranthine, nobody really cares that Warden is a mage in the end. Hawke from the other hand could be considered as a noble from Amell family, but once again, nobody really cares that they are a mage and I think that it's due to the fact that lore has too many plotholes and too many cases of individual mages being treated good or being treated bad, or that it’s the side effect of the situation, in which Bioware had to come up with good explanation why Hawke can hold an estate in Kirkwall and be a Champion, despite being an apostate mage, but failed miserably.

There is something wrong with the Circles in the lore. Once they are good, once they are bad. I was literally thinking that Ferelden Circle was ok, untill I went into basement where I found a lot of blood and demons... and I started to wonder... why they are there? I never played Awakening, but I know what Anders is saying about Circles and we should really reconsider the point of view, when we are talking about Circles. Some mages had more freedom and more chances to become important, than the others. I dunno how Vivienne's Circle looked like, but I try to imagine, and I sometimes wonder how many mages failed where she succeded. She holds power and lives better life than other mages, because she outsmarted the system. But still she is pro-Circle, because she sees it as institution, which could work better. 

I also can imagine it as something good... but I cannot imagine it in the same way as Vivienne can. She doesn't see flaws in the Chantry, and I see too many of them. That's why for me Circles would work if they were separated from the Chantry and would be treated as private schools. People still would be "locked up" there, but they would at least have vacation and could go see their families or invide their families inside. And atmosphere would be different without Templars always watching. I cannot imagine school with such security. I would not really be able to focus on learning if somebody would watch my every move. It's unnerving. (And if someone thinks that being scared helps mages, then... no, it doesn't, it makes it even harder for them to pass Harrowing). 

If we want to have Harrowing in the end (I don't, because there are better ways to test mages, than forcing them to deal with the demon), then it should not be something, which nobody knows about. Ferelden Circle mages were afraid of Harrowing, and they were constantly talking about mages dissapearing and never coming back, which reffers to them failing the Harrowing. Nobody knows what it is, and when Irving gives you advices in DAO, Gregoir basically stops him from "helping you". How fucked up is that? Tevinter version is probably more like our exams at the end of high school. We all don't like them, but we at least know how they look like and we are prepared to take them.

In the end Circles end as some kind of prisons like @notsosecretsolasobsession said. They are not Hogwart, there is too many things, which make them different than Hogwart, but also a lot of things which make them different from one another as well. Kirkwall was the worst one and Ferelden is treated as one of the best ones, at least by one of the in-game character, who wrote the codex entry about Circles. Even he noticed that something is wrong with the system and that it should be fixed. (And because codex entries are written by Bioware writers, we know that Bioware see the problem too).

@morealivethanvenser has a point here that Circles were not meant to be prisons, but after some time they were forced to become ones. I still can argue that they were like prisons before, because I cannot imagine that taking children from their families and shipping them somewhere, without even letting children to contact their parents later is a good thing. And when they are adults a lot of them may not want or not be able to reach their families. Anders would not want to see his father after what he did and I cannot imagine that his mother stayed with the guy after that. Revka Amell dissapears after Fausten Amell dies and father of Warden Amell dissapears too with the rest of the children, so there is no way to contact them. Some like Finn have the opportunity to contact their families, but we shouldn’t really treat it as a norm. Because with the Circles there is no norm. 

The only norms, which I see are the flaws in the system itself. Huge ones or minor ones, depending on the Circle. But for me all system is flawed, because mages are treated like the only ones, which can be possesed... and it’s not really true. They are more likely to be (statistically), but everybody else can be too. Does it mean that we should lock them up and make them feel ashamed of who they are or treat them like the ticking bombs, who can become monsters at any second...? I think that it’s not really a good way to teach someone, that they have to learn to control their magic. 

But Chantry made it possible, because they interpret Chant of Light as they see fit... and do I have to add that one of Chantry Sisters NPC in DAI actually says that mages were beaten in the Circles, and that mages were hiding their bruises, so nobody would know, how they were treated? She never stated in which Circle she was, though. I can only assume that it was not Kirkwall Circle.

@laurelsofhighever Wanna add something to this?

Links to the most interesting answers:

Connor’s Noble Title

Nobles and Commoners

Not Intended to be Prisons

Circle Reform is Needed

Harrowing

You can go outsite as long as you have important friends

There was also the post about Templars, where someone said that they are unfairly treated as bad people by the fandom, and this person has a point, but in the same time Cole has a point too, when he says that a lot of Templars abuse mages to feel better. The good Templars tho... why they always end so poorly? Losing people they love (Thrask). Being addicted to the point of no come back (Samson) and being tortured by desire demon (Cullen). 

We cannot also forget that Templars even when they see that not all mages are bad and they are not bad themsemselves, still do nothing to stop the bad things from happening (and for the victim of abuse, the person who does nothing to stop abuse, is the same as the person, who abuses them), because they were brainwashed into thinking that mages should be locked down, because they are potential monsters. 

Cullen never fully recovered from his previous attitude, he still is afraid of mages and not feel safe with them around. It’s understandable after what happened to him, but... it’s bad to exclude someone, who you love and treat them as exception of the rule (Cullen still can love a mage), while in the same time thinking about other mages as potential monsters. It’s the problem. I would even say that it’s a social issue in Thedas. 

Mages are treated as if they were not people by the society in Southern Thedas, while in the same time elves are treated (by the same society) as knife-eared brutes, which are below everyone else (and quess who doesn’t caaaree about that, yes, the Chantry doesn’t care). Templars are made addict to the lyrium by the Chantry... mages are treated like an embodiment of the sin, which created the Blight and elves... elves are erased from the history of the Chantry so Chantry could treat them as lower class citizens. 

Chantry is the big bad here, really.

#dragon age #dragon age meta #dragon age fandom #i don't like the chantry #circles are flawed #system which was made for the circles is flawed #someone #blocked reblog or something? #dragon age lore #dragon age mages #circle #cirlce of magi #mages #templars #white spire #kirkwall #haw #warden amell

[nerdwaifuu]

The Elemental Experiments (A crappy fanfic I'm writing on FanFiction.Net)~ Chapter 1

Tick tick tick tick...

All the students stared intensely at the clock, as if it was a ticking time bomb ready to explode once the period was over. As the teacher spoke and no one listened, all watched the minute hand slowly making it's way to the 6 while the hour hand was moving in between the 2 and the 3. Once the hand touched the 6, the bell rang. The room then erupted in talking and shuffling of papers and other supplies.

"Alright kiddos, remember to read pages 208 to 214 and answer the Section Assessment questions. These are due as soon as you walk into the door." Mr. L told the students, triggering a chorus of complaints and groans.

One student with blonde, slicked back hair and vibrant icy blue eyes shook his head as his classmates complained as if Mr. L gave them a 20 page report they had to do by tomorrow, not just seven textbook pages and five easy questions asking about minerals where the answers could be found in the text.

All the students flooded out into the hallway, rushing to their lockers with the eagerness to head home. As the blonde teen exited the room, two of his friends came strolling, or rolling in one's case, up to him.

"Hey Zane!" The caramel brown haired boy exclaimed as he rolled by on his new blue heelys that he got himself for Christmas.

"Greetings Jay and Cole." Zane responded, his thin lips forming a small smiled as he examined the two boys. Both were very sweaty because they just got back from gym, and Cole had his now longer hair in a bun and was already carrying his stuff since he stayed after for football. Jay on the other hand, even though he was clearly either too tired or lazy to change out of his gym clothes, but still had enough energy to act like his usual energetic self.

"Alright, heelys squad! Let's go!" Jay shouted, rolling away from Zane and Cole. Cole shook his head and followed Jay with Zane right behind. They both shook their head as some older students noticed Jay rolling through the hallway and soon glare at the other two.

"Oh come on guys! Don't put those heelys to waste!" Jay exclaimed before reaching his locker. Both Zane and Cole promised to at least wear the white and black heelys Jay bought for them, but neither of them ever took part of Jay's "Heely squad" during school hours,

"Woah, Jay, no need to embarrass yourself in front of the seniors... being a freshmen is bad enough." a spikey, brown haired teen with a red hoodie, who just reached Jay's locker, told Jay. His brown eyes hidden behind the black lenses of his sunglasses. Jay rolled his eyes as he and Zane opened their lockers and gathered their stuff.

"Oh shut the eff up Kai. I don't care what the seniors think of me, especially now. All I need to worry about is that damn Bio test coming up..." Jay started to trail off in the end. One thing most freshmen worried about was the upcoming Biology, or Living Environment, tests.

"Oh well, that's your problem... except the Bio part. Ugh, why couldn't I be in honors classes last year... lucky you Zane." Kai grumbled, tugging at his red backpack. Out of the group of friends, Zane had high enough grades to be in Biology in 8th grade, even though Jay was also qualified. Instead, Jay got put into the other honors course. Earth Science, which Zane had to take this year.

"Oh well. Any whoooooo, you guys wanna come over to my parents summer house? I need help setting up that halloween party for this Friday." Kai asked the other three. Unfortunately, all of them shook their heads.

"Got Football practice, then my dad is dragging me to dance classes."

"Nah fam, I need to study for Bio and got a book re- I mean, "literature analysis" for language arts."

"Sorry Kai, I wish I could... however, my father is actually going to be home for once. Echo wants me to spend time with them."

Kai let out a sigh and shrugged.

"Okay, totally understand. Maybe Lloyd or Skylor are free tonight..." Kai responded, before walking away. Jay then cleared his throat and said "Don't have too much fun Kai."

"With which one though?" Kai winked before disappearing into the crowd. Jay chuckled and shook his head as he closed his locker.

"Well, see you guys tomorrow. Zane, tell Dr. J and lil' Echo I said hi. Cole, have fun at practice and acting like a ballerina. Heelys squad OUT!" Jay said before rolling away, also disappearing into the crowd. Cole did a little face palm before walking the other direction to the gym.

"Bye Zane. Also tell Dr. Julien and Echo I said hi." Cole said and quickly waved goodbye before disappearing as well, leaving Zane alone. Zane shot Cole one last smile and then found his way outside. He headed towards the bike rack, grabbed his old white bike, and quickly made his way to the nearby middle school. He put his bike onto the bike rack and jogged over to the car loop. He searched through the few children until he found his copper brown haired brother in the crowd. Unfortunately, after many times of trying to get his brother's attention by waving at him, Zane soon resorted to yelling his name.

"Echo Julien!" Immediately, Echo turned towards him and sprinted through all the kids until he reached Zane, wrapping his arms around his thin waist.

"Big brother! I thought you forgot about me! You were 25 minutes later than usual..." Zane grabbed out his phone to check the time. Echo was right, he was super late this time. Probably standing around while Jay and Kai talked wasn't the best idea...

"Oh... um... sorry about that..." Zane rubbed the back of his head as Echo giggled.

"It's fine. Let's head home. Hopefully mean old Stepmother isn't home today..." Zane smiled as he lead Echo to the bike rack and Echo hopped onto Zane's bike, his arms around Zane's waist.

"Yeah... hopefully not..." Zane responded before he started pedaling towards home. Both boys didn't enjoy the woman their father decided to marry after Echo was born. Once Echo was born, their mother unfortunately died in child birth. Their father thought they still needed a mother figure to help out, especially since Dr. Julien would be at work until late at night. However, the woman he chose to marry, Elizabeth Snow, drives the boys insane.

Luckily, when the two reached the driveway, their stepmother's car was not present.

'Oh hallelujah...' both of them thought as they went inside the house. The house wasn't much, but it had just enough for the whole family. When they walked in, the smell of tea filled the whole house. Yep, their father was definitely home.

"Father!" Echo squealed as Dr. Julien exited the kitchen with a cup of tea in hand. The young Julien ran over to Dr. Julien and hugged him as tight as he could. A huge smile appeared on the older man's face as he hugged his son back, but only with one arm. Echo then soon let go of Dr. Julien and dragged Zane into a big group hug. Their father began to laugh as he held his sons close to him. After a minute, they soon released and questions began to flood out of his mouth.

"So, did you discover anything new? Any new inventions? Did anything explode? What project are you and Borg working on now? Are the coffee machines fixed yet? Did anyone d-" Zane covered Echo's mouth before he could finish the last question. Dr. Julien started to chuckled.

"Oh you are so precious. But, I can't release any information about my projects yet." Dr. Julien said, booping Echo on the nose. The soon to be 12 year old tried to use his puppy eye strategy, but it had no effect on Dr. Julien.

"Well, no more talk about the lab. It's family time." Dr. Julien told the two boys, picking up Echo and carrying him to the dining room table where a game of clue was set up. Then, from there, the three played a couple rounds of clue until they heard a car pulling into the drive way. When the headlights shone through the front window, Zane and Echo scrambled to their rooms and worked on their homework while Dr. Julien quickly cleaned up the game before his wife opened the front door.

"Hello honey." The two overheard Dr. Julien say quickly to Elizabeth as she set her bag down on the now cleared dining room table. Soon enough, the parent's voices became muffled and quieter so Echo nor Zane could hear what they are now arguing about this time.

Both sigh as Echo goes into Zane's room and works in there until Dr. Julien came in, a frown on his face. He sighed before telling Echo to leave for a second so he can speak to Zane alone. Zane and Echo exchanged confused looks before Echo obeyed, closing the door right behind him. Many questions raced through the blonde's mind. Usually his father did this after his stepmother told him something about Zane.

"Son..." Zane was ready to hear it. All this school year, he has been avoiding home. He knows he's strange and doesn't fit in, nothing Dr. Julien could say could change other's opinions. Everyone thinks he's depressed. Everyone makes fun of him. What could Dr. Julien try to tell Zane about this time?

"You care about Echo... correct?" Zane's heart skipped a beat. Such a strange question...

He nodded slowly. Dr. Julien grabbed out a small leather journal and stared intensely at it, like the students in Zane's Earth Science class at the end of the day.

"Zane... promise to me... if I'm ever gone, make sure you are always there for Echo. Keep him safe, and always be careful. And..." He pointed at the cover of the journal.

"Find this journal. No matter what happens. Echo and this journal should be your first priority..." Dr. Julien tells him with a stern voice. Zane can clearly see the fear in his eyes, yet his whole face was not showing any clear emotions from what he could observe. His stomach felt like it was in a knot, his mind was spinning as it tried to figure out the reason for this conversation. Although, Zane just nodded and acted like he understood. Then, Dr. Julien put the journal back from where he got it and left the room. Fear and confusion filled Zane's body as he went back to his homework. His brain was trying to wrap around what he was talking about.

These thoughts continued to swarm in his mind even when he decided to try to go to sleep.

"Find this journal. No matter what happens. Echo and this journal should be your first priority..."

'Why? What will happen?'

A/N: Well then... why am I even posting it here??? Hopefully you like it. Btw, this is more of an alternate universe, so things will not exactly be like in the show. Also, I made Zane and Echo human, so yeah. Hope you all like it.

#ninjago #ninjago fanfiction #ninjago fanfic #ninjago zane #ninjago dr. julien

[rabiesram]

you tried

based off the short from tv earlier lmao Feat wet hair jay and gay as fuck cole //freeform// //oneshot//

#my stories

[believe-that-you-can-my-friend]

Hey I just remembered when Jughead was at the sheriffs station and they already ha his records from him 'trying to burn the school down' but could you write a different version where he was trying to do something nice for betty like maybe everyone forgot it was her birthday except jughead so he got birthday candles for her or something like that where it ends up with him almost burning down the elementary? Thanks!!

Arsonist’s Lullabye

(Alright, another prompt is here! I loved writing this one because it gave such a nice backstory to Jughead’s juvenile detention center incident and Bughead as kids are just adorable! Plus, I snuck in there a lot of FP and Gladys (and some Alice mentions I’m sorry I can’t help it) because I really love writing about their family dynamic; I have a lot of headcanons about them in my mind. So thanks anon for sending me this amazing idea! I hope you enjoy it!! ❤️

P.S. I know all of you see Neve Campbell as Jughead’s mom but Cole ruined me after mentioning Eva Green for the role so yeah, that’s who I was picturing in my mind while writing and I have FEELS!)

Bright, cold and impersonal.

He had guessed two out ofthree right.

What he never would haveguessed was that he of all people would be sitting with the head hung low inthis cold and impersonal room; the police interrogation room.

For somebody that was repulsedby the garbage that was labeled entertainment on the idiot box, Jughead had asoft spot for anything detective. Except for the classic film noirs and mysterycentered period films, he enjoyed immensely any program that dealt with crimeinvestigation, with true crime documentaries being his favorite. The fact thatsuch shows gave him the opportunity to follow each step of the policeinvestigation, feel the thrill with each new clue that was being found like hewas a part of the detective team too, listen to witnesses, experience theimmediacy of the situation by hearing the story directly by the people thatlived it, were what had him at the edge of his seat and with eyes round andglued to the screen, unable to press the turn off button even at the wee hoursof the morning. The thought of being on the other side, not watching butactually being one of the people on the screen, never crossed him mind.

The small, sterile lookingroom was surprisingly bright, showered in the hard fluorescent light of anothertypical Riverdale gloomy autumn morning. Such rooms in the shows he watchedwere always pitch-dark and claustrophobic, with only a threatening yellow lampacross the suspects face for torture, not filled with crystal clear morningglow. Maybe that was worst, he thought. He felt like a higher power was judginghim along with the glassy eyes of the sheriff across him, and, even thoughJughead never really believed in God or fate or karma or whatever other abstractionpeople thought was mapping the course of their life, he could still feel astronger tug of guilt in his already heavy chest. If the room was dark, itwould suit the darkness of his soul. Now that it was bright, he reminded him ofall the things he was going to lose.

Things were bad. He wasn’taccused of a wrongly parked vehicle or a mindless trespassing; he was beingcharged with homicide. He couldn’t even fathom it, he couldn’t even form theword in his mind. Him, Jughead Jones, a killer. The boy that was misunderstood.The boy that was expected to end up like his father. The boy that wasconsidered a scapegoat. The boy that right now, with watery eyes and panic inhis voice, pleaded not to be misunderstood.

Sheriff Keller’s voice brokethrough the castle walls of his nightmarish thoughts.

“But what did surprise me wasthis.” The older version of Kevin presented him with his file, turning itaround for the teenage boy to take a peak. Jughead knew where this was goingand it was bad, worse than before.With a small glimpse downwards to the official documents, he averted his eyesto the side, chewing on his lower lip in anxiety and despair. “Your prints wereon file, from an incident that happened six years ago, where you spent sometime with the Riverdale Juvenile Delinquent Center for “Attempting to burn downRiverdale Elementary School”.” He frowned, waiting for an answer, theexperienced officer assuming that there was indeed something off with theteenager at the other end of the steal table.

Jughead shot back the firstthing that came to his mind. “I was playing with matches” he retorted beforecontinuing in a snarky, smart-ass tone “and that’s a pretty tenuous connectionfor a sheriff.” He knew that he should have minded his tongue and lowered thelevel of his usual sarcasm but that was him, he couldn’t help it, sardonichumor was his way of reacting to the world. It got worse when he was beingcornered or becoming frustrated and right now he felt trapped in thedarkest corner and fuming, internally screaming for somebody to help him.

His knee started to bounce,his nails dug painfully on the hard denim of his jacket against his sides ashis arms tightened around his chest, hugging his torso in a desperate need toseal himself, to prevent his body and soul from scattering in a million piecesunder the scrutinizing gaze of the sheriff and the weight of the situation hewas in. He could feel his head starting to buzz, his palms getting sweaty andthe rising and falling of his chest altering, stopping being subconsciousanymore but turning difficult and calculated, like the orchestrated ticksbefore the explosion of a very destructive bomb. Jughead tried to calm himself.Maybe his dad was out there, negotiating with a deputy and offering apersuasive alibi. Maybe Fred Andrews was with him backing his story as Archie stoodby his dad’s side offering his help by praising his best friend’s honorableschool performance and recent involvement with extracurricular. And maybe, justmaybe, she was there waiting for himtoo, ready to offer her supporting words and one or two of her soothingcaresses, telling him that everything was going to be okay and she of allpeople believed him unboundedly. The tedious silence at the other side of thedoor however was crashing his hopes one by one.

Jughead’s eyes darted aroundthe table in panic before they stopped at the picture of him at the bottom leftcorner of his police file, a younger version of him, a somehow happier one inall its childish naivety, sending him a toothy smile full of glee, despite theabiding clouds that always fogged his turbulent family life. He studied theface of his ten year old self; he neither looked like a delinquent nor anarsonist. Then again, he neither looked like a criminal nor a murderer now. Hisboyish, mild-mannered looks didn’t seem to matter though in their smallcommunity that only cared to point fingers and pigeonhole people based onsocial status and family reputation. If only that ten year old boy knew that bythe end of that year he was going to be whisked off his crying mother and heldin a place that felt more like a chill-raising orphanage than an efficient rehabilitationcenter. Maybe he wouldn’t be smiling that big in the picture. And maybe hewould be more prepared now to lose his innocence once and for all.

He remembered that dayclearly; the day he had got accused of a status offence, the day he had sat infront of retiring Sheriff Conelly for questioning, just like he did now sittingacross the old man’s heir on the job. The feeling was the same. That tugging in his chest that the world was falling down around him and suffocating him, thefeeling of drowning and his lungs betraying him, his plead of help never makingit to the surface. He closed his eyes and took a deep, cooing a breath to easesome of his nerves, scatter away the awful feeling of hopelessness and thehurtful memories but failed miserably as the events of that sunny day invadedhis mind, as a distraction and a reminder that happiness was never going to bewithin his reach and that it was his destiny to lose everything the moment hewould start to believe that life was giving him a chance after all.

Jughead became tens year oldagain, on March 15th, the day of Betty Cooper’s birthday…

With a clumsy hop, a pair ofNinja Turtles sneakers landed on the asphalt, the green lights on the whitetrack sole starting flicking but only on the right shoe, two years of everydayuse being a little too long for them to be in perfect condition. Little JugheadJones didn’t care. He loved those shoes, he used to greet them good morning andgoodnight every single day for a whole year as he would pass them by on his wayto school, knowing all too well that they were out of the family’s budget,especially now that his baby sister had come to the world. So when two yearsago Christmas morning came and he saw the cartoon decorated box under theirsmall and unattractive Christmas tree – his mom having saved up some money tofinally grant him his wish – he had vowed with round alit eyes upontaking the precious shoes in his hands that he would never abandon them, evenif now, not only their light-up effect was on its final stages, but they alsoseemed to suffocate his fast growing feet.

The raven haired boy pushedclosed the car door behind him and staggered to the other side of the old andused Suzuki, his bony limps tripping lightly over his undone shoelaces, his appearancedisheveled as usual. His trademark grey beanie was securing his mop of untameddark hair, a little too big for his head and always sliding low on his eyes,making him fidget with it and the rebellious waves against his forehead constantly,and a burgundy zip-up hoodie was misplaced over some dark blue varsity t-shirt,its right hem getting squeezed and wrinkled under the black strap of his heavyneon green backpack. Finally rounding the car, he opened the back door andstarted unbuckling his sister from her carseat – formerly his – immediatelytrying to help, as always.

Gladys Jones emerged from thedriver’s seat sparing her boy a tiny smile in a hurry, before ushering the babyout of the car, three and a half years old Jellybean instantly starting to wailbecause of the rude interruption of her slumber. The mother desperately triedto shush her while picking up her baby things and hoisting a diaper bag thathad seen better days over her shoulder, salty tears and baby drool drenchingthe front of her bright yellow Pop’s uniform and matching the stain of bananaand biscuit puree, Jellybean’s unfinished breakfast, next to her name tag. Shehad just finished her night shift at Pop’s and she had exactly half an hour toget the kids to school, return home to change and get to the Blossoms’ maplesyrup factory at the outskirts of town for her second job as an assembly lineworker. Jughead believed that his mom was actually a superhero in disguise, despite thebags under her tired blue eyes, a little lifeless but always identical to his.

“Alright, JiggieJug, breakfastfor champions.” She addressed him motherly, snatching a Pop’s paper bag fromthe passenger seat containing his lunch for the day. Being a Friday, Jugheadknew that today’s menu were two overstuffed carton boxes of chicken nuggets,maxi-sized French fries and a blueberry lollipop, a typical treat from his momto “pre-celebrate the weekend”, as she always used to say with a lovely smilebefore dropping the candy in his lunch bag. “And the special dessert you askedfor.” Gladys supplied her son with another bag, this one plastic and moresecure than the other, watching in amusement, despite her need to hurry, thelittle boy trying to juggle everything inside his slender arms.

“Thanks, mom.” Always with aheart of gold, he thanked his mom for the simple task he had assigned to herthe day before. “You got everything, right?” he huffed to push his ravenwaves out of his eyes, having no hands to indulge in his adorable little tic.

“Ten of Pop’s famous strawberrycupcakes with pink buttercream and sprinkles-covered strawberries on top andtwo old-fashioned vanilla milkshakes.”  Sherecited her son’s order perfectly, while bouncing the fussy baby in her arms. “But,hey, you promised you’re not gonna eat them all by yourself.” The motherreminded him their deal, because she knew his immense appetite and, even thoughhe didn’t seem to gain even a single hint of fat on his boyish lanky figure,she was still worried for her boy’s wellbeing after such sugar overdose.

Little Jughead huffed again,this time in exasperation. “No, mom, I told you they are not for me.”

“Who are they for then?” Gladysscoffed incredulously, a tad amused and with an eyebrow raising for the boy tohumor her, freeing the hem of her uniform over her cleavage from the stronghold of Jellybean’s chubby fingers. When the squirming baby’s attention shiftedand her little fingers became more demanding on violently twirling the end ofher raven, waist-long, flyaway hair gathered in a lose ponytail, the mothersighed, accepting her fate.

Faint blush creeping on hisslightly baby fat filled cheeks, the boy dropped his eyes to examine hisbeloved sneakers, awkwardly scratching their tips over some tiny pebbles.“They’re for…” he shyly started but he choked on the words, always confiding inhis mom about everything but right now finding it really difficult because hewas ten and talking about girls was supposed to be gross and entirelyhumiliating.

As in reflex, his baby bluesraised from the ground and he spotted her, cute as a button little Betty Cooper,hopping cheerfully off her parents’ vintage silver Mercedes right after hersister, toothy smile intact and two buns on top of either side of her head,rather than her usual high ponytail or braided pigtails. Clearly, she was dressedfor the occasion in a yellow balloon dress and a turquoise denim jacket,the colors happy and bright just like her sunlight personality, and she offeredhim an eager wave and an even bigger smile, before running towards the sea ofchildren in the school yard armed with her fuchsia pink Polly Pocket backpack. Pretty, was all that Jughead thoughtwhile barely managing to wiggle his fingers in a small wave, his chapped lipsslightly parted and his cheeks flaming red at this point, as he watched herdisappear.

The interaction wasn’t missedby his mother’s alert and intuitive nature, seeing the little girl mingle withher classmates before turning again to her son. Ah, of course, Betty Cooper, Gladys internally sighed, ultimatelyfinding his reaction cute and wanting to be supportive of her son’s first crushbut her own insecurities about a certain member of the Cooper family – thatright now spared her a not so friendly glare from the passenger seat of thespeeding off Mercedes – were tarnishing the otherwise loving nature of hermaternal instincts.

“I’m sure she is going to loveyour little surprise, baby.” Gladys managed to smile lightly despite her defensivefrown, putting her children first, as always.

Tips of ears turning brightred now as well, Jughead looked up at her with hopeful eyes, face lifting withjoy that his mom, the most important woman in his life, thought so and he noddedonce in excitement, now becoming more confident about his plan regarding theday. He knew it wasn’t much and Betty deserved all the sweet tooth menus atPop’s along with an unlimited pass to all the rides on the fun fair and theTwilight Drive-In for her birthday, and he desperately wanted to be able togive her all that and more, but he wished her favorite cupcakes and choice ofdrink were enough of a good present.

They exchanged sweet smilesbut Jellybean’s frustrated cry made the mother turn to her in panic, once againaware of the hectic reality she had to face. “Believe me, I know you want yourbeauty sleep but please, Jelly, help me out a little bit here, shh.” Shebounced the baby as she pleaded with a small groan, not that the child obeyed.“I really have to run now, Jug.” She kneeled lightly to be eye level with herson, balancing a baby and all her stuff on her slender figure, and brushing hiswavy hair out of his forehead in affection. “Be good at school. I love you.”She squeezed his cheeks between her thump and pointer and Eskimo kissed himplayfully, both grinning from ear to ear at their sweet habit. Jughead saidgoodbye to his sister with fingers tickling her chubby stomach lightly and afunny grimace and ran off to the cheerfully shrieking kids, as hismom took off to the opposite direction, walking fast and ungraciously whilebouncing her baby in pursue for the daycare down the road.

Jughead made a bee linestraight inside the school where he found his blonde sun of a friend bouncingon her feet in front of her sparkly, stickers-littered locker, chatting withtheir redhead best friend. With a deep breath and a huff that sent his hairflying off his forehead, he dragged his lanky limbs to join them, catchinghimself sporting a smile upon locking eyes with the giggly girl. Her big,pearly white grin was contagious, he couldn’t help it.

“… and Polly spent half anhour to do them for me, do you like it Arch?” the raven haired boy came to astop next to the boy in question, catching half of the conversation with asmall frown at Betty’s hopeful doe eyes and bouncing back and forth head incute hyperactivity.

“They look funny.” Theoblivious redhead answered, tilting his head while examining the two buns thatcreated her new hairstyle.

Jughead noticed immediatelythe cloud over her former sunny mood. “I like them. They look like meatballs;and meatballs are always good.” He rushed to offer his opinion to preserve thehappy glint of her green orbs. She truly looked cute, in a princess Leia way kindacute, Jughead being sure that from now on he wouldn’t be able to watch any ofhis beloved Star Wars movies without giddily thinking about the prettiest girlin their school.

His food related complimentmanaged to tug the corner of her lips in a small smile, Betty looking at himshyly under her fluttering eyelashes. “I just wanted to do something differentfor today, being special and all…”she hinted, a tad disappointed that nobody was showering her with birthdaywishes yet. Kevin had briefly passed her by at the entrance with a small waveand an anxious rant about how he forgot to fill the answer sheet for geography,before disappearing into recess room to fix his mess and by the looks of it,Archie was, as always, in his own world too. Juggie didn’t count; Betty knewthat he didn’t care about birthdays so he wasn’t going remember. He was theonly person she wasn’t mad at.

“Save it for Betty to callspecial the day we have a history and a math test and fix her hair in a newhairstyle for that.” Archie laughed wholeheartedly at his own joke, elbowing Jugheadto join, but his friend was too preoccupied with the way that Betty’s entireposture had changed right now, shoulders slouching and down lip wobbling as shepouted. He felt a tug at his chest, almost snatching a cupcake from the bag tooffer it to her because food cured everything and right now he desperatelywanted to cure her blues. How could Archie not have a clue about what was today’soccasion? There was always a bright red circle around the date at all ofJughead’s wall calendars throughout the years, the boy marking the special daymonths in advance in order to always remember, not that he wouldn’t otherwise.

Sparing Betty the tears andJughead the overreacting humiliation, the bell rung loudly over their heads,signalizing the start of first period.

“Whatever, I’ll see you atlunch.” The blonde girl did the fastest one-eighty in the history of twirls.She was ashamed of the fat tears that were threatening to spill from her eyesany minute now and afraid of being labeled as a baby and getting excluded byher friends, especially now that she had gained a rightful free pass toJughead’s tree house, quick feet taking her away to mop around in the littleladies’ room before heading to class.

“Laters.” Jughead heard Archiepromise in the opposite of his inner voice, him not getting the chance to uttera single word, not even a “wait up” or “please smile” at the sad birthday girl,before getting dragged backwards from his backpack by Archie to the directionof their joined class, uncoordinated limps tripping over his loose shoelaces. Hecaught a glimpse of her reaching the girls’ bathroom down the corridor andgrumpily brushing the back of her hand over her cheek to wipe some tears and hisyoung heart sank to his stomach, for the first time wishing for free period to comesooner, and not because he was drooling over his lunchbox as usual.

So when that heavenly subject-freehour came, Jughead was agog to finally go on with his plan and sweet gesture.He didn’t like his birthday; everybody knew that. He thought that it was a hopelesscelebration, a day that caused him more stress than joy because his parents hadto play a part, create the reality of a blissful, breakfast commercial perfectfamily. The fake reality that was soon crashed the next day under thedisappointed looks of his mother to his father that spoke volumes or theirhushed fights, his running away footsteps and her muffled ugly sobs late atnight when Jughead would still lay awake, buried inside the cocoon of hisblankets with a torch lighting the pages of his books that helped him escapethe place that no longer felt like home. Betty’s birthday was another story.Her life was sunshine and rainbows, this day shouldn’t have been an exception to that.More so, it should have been the highlight of her already happy childhood.

That’s why little Jughead wasnow in their biology lab setting the place the way he had envision the weekprior, when he had started mapping up the idea. He had picked this particularclassroom because the window overlooked the small garden at the back of theelementary school, the one that their class was responsible to maintain throughout theyear, bright yellow sunflowers now in full growth creating a nice springsetting. He placed the two vanilla shakes on a desk right in front of thewindow and the plastic plate of cupcakes between them and took out of hisbackpack ten heart-shaped candles and a lighter, carefully lighting each ofthem and placing them on top of every small pink cake. He smiled lightly at hiscreation; he believed the whole setting was so girly and so everything heimagined she would like and the thought made his little heart do a flippy overthing in excitement. And then for the big finish. He pulled out of his pencilcase two sparklers, Betty’s all-time favorite party attraction, Jugheadremembering how elated she always used to be at the sight of them all over townat every July 4th or on Archie’s birthday cake, the only girl notshrieking and running away but giggling while playing with the dancing flames,and he lit them both, bouncing back a little at how abruptly their effect hadstarted. He hoisted one on the right side of the center cupcake and went to dothe same for the left side, trying to avoid the flames of the other candlesaround but that’s when all came crashing down around him, his awkward and prepubescentuncoordinated limbs falling him once again miserably.

His elbow clumsily knockeddown one of the milkshakes. White sticky ice cream stained the linoleum flooras he rushed to somehow clean the mess. The sparkler he was holding dropped fromhis fingers without him even noticing. His urgent feet kicked it involuntarily toroll inches away from the brownish curtain that was pulled to the side of thewindow. Some sparks landed on the cheap material and just like that everythingbecame a nightmare of biblical destruction.

Ten year old Jughead didn’tknow that flames could spread so quickly and easily. So when he turned aroundand half the curtain was burning maliciously, he stumbled back in shock, eyesturning wide and panicky at the sight in front of him. Out of reflex, he threwa wooden chair in front of him, to separate him from the chaos, but this onlyseemed to make it worse, the chair catching up in flames too in a nanosecondbefore the fire fueled more and black smoke started to fill the room. An awfulsound pierced through his ears and he rushed to cover them, the fire alarmgoing off efficiently, and Jughead panicked even more now, thinking about howscrewed up he was going to be upon teachers finding out he was the cause of thechaos. He was moving in circles around himself, at a loss of what to do or howto help, throwing random things to the threatening tongues of flame that werespreading fast, only succeeding in making it worse. At the sound of the doorflying open, he looked up like a deer caught in the headlights.

“Jug?” Archie’s flaming locksthat matched the scenery of the room appeared as the boy rushed inside, comingto a halt abruptly, shocked out of his young mind too. “Oh my— we have to run!”he shouted in alarm, motioning for the door behind him.

“No, I have to fix this.” Jugheaddidn’t spare him a second glance as he rushed to the sink at the corner,filling a small bucket with water and throwing it to the flames, onlysucceeding in making them spread more, now dangerously close to his discardedbackpack on the floor. “My books!” Jughead exclaimed in despair at the thought of his anchorof hope getting lost forever and lashed forward without thinking, Archie doingthe same with wide eyes, in order to pull back his best friend.

The curtain rail gave outunder the high rise of temperature and the iron bar fell to the floor with adreadful sound, spreading a sea of flames, the force causing the two boys toroll back on the floor. Jughead wailed in fear as his pant leg caught on fire, Archiestumbling on his feet in horror and throwing his little league letterman jacketon the denim, effectively putting out the small source of flames but notwithout experience the same pain on the side of his arm. The blipping of thealarm became more vicious, the flames had now spread all over the wall and fewof the desks next to the window, Jughead’s terrified eyes watching the icy cupcakesburn in flames, just like his naïve hopes that he would for once make BettyCooper happy, make her notice him and only him.

The door opened again. Loudmale voices could be heard yelling instructions and rolling something insidethe flaming room. Two firefighters picked him and Archie up, assuring them thateverything was going to be fine, Jughead’s heart getting crushed just like thepiece of pink carton under the stomping feet of the firemen, the comic about aprincess and a poet he had made for her in a form of a birthday card nevergetting the reaction of the big, delighted smile it deserved. Jughead’s babyblues turned blurry with tears as something exploded inside the room and theman he was holding him started running to rush him to safety away from the flames,away from his now crushed childhood dream.

Everything happened in fastforward after that. And he, for some reason, ended up here, scared, shocked, traumatizedin the place that didn’t do much to ease his young turbulent mind; the backseatof a police car. His ruined pant leg was rolled up against his thigh, some coolingblue Jell-O like cream spread on his knee over the irritated skin of his burn,he reeked of smoke and he felt awful with sticky clothes, trembling limps and abroken heart. He was busing himself with picking at his fingers, hands coal blackfrom the carbon dioxide, or stealing side glances at everything that washappening around him; parents dropping by to pick up their terrified kids, firefightersrolling off their gear, having succeeded in extinguishing the fire, theSherriff questioning some teachers and the janitor, Archie being treated byparamedics just like Jughead was before him, Mary Andrews cradling his head andoffering him motherly pecks to ease his pain away while Fred stood by like atrue family protector, his own parents lurking next to the police vehicle tryingto not make a scene, by keeping their full of venom voices to a minimum.

Jughead wanted to scream forthem to stop, to scream that he needed them talking to him, telling him thateverything was going to be alright, not fighting with each other. He felthanging, he didn’t know why everyone was treating him like a bad guy and thatterrified him to no end, a ten year old boy too small in front of thesignificance of the situation. He was trying desperately not to cry, chinwobbly and eyes itchy and bloodshot, blinking rapidly due to the toxic fumesand his unshed tears, and all he wanted was his mom and dad to hug him tightand never let go, never let him alone again in this reality that petrified hisyoung and innocent mind.

“This is all your fault.” His mom’shiss towards his dad made Jughead lower his head even more to his lap, preparinghimself for the shouting match that it was about to break loose.

“He’s just a kid, Gladys.” FPsighed, tired and concerned but not thinking much of the situation. Jughead wasa growing boy; those incidents were expected in his books.

“Kids don’t play with matches.”Gladys bit back and continued with venom and narrowed, troubled dark blue eyes.“This is your doing.”

“You can’t blame me foreverything that goes wrong in this family.” Her husband snapped back, voicestill controlled but eyes pitch black under the red, irritated skin of hiseyelashes caused by another one of his usual alcohol filled nights.

“At least I’m trying, FP.Unlike you that always put us second in your life.” She accused, shaking herhead in despair and dropping a kiss to the temple of the oblivious baby girl inher arms.

“Don’t you dare tell me that Idon’t love my kids.” He sent her a side glance, jaw tightening to not show howhurt he was by her words. “Or you.” He added and he meant it, even if he wasn’tthe best at showing it, he truly meant it.

Gladys huffed in disbelief; shehad heard all that before. “If your love results to this, then keep it.” She shooka hand his direction, indicating for him to stay away from her, from them. “You’returning him into you.” Her voice broke, a choke closing her throat at thethought. “And that’s the thing I’m most scared of; him ending up anything like you.” There was bitternessin her voice, hatred at how the man she had fell madly in love with had changed,at how this wasn’t the life she had dreamed of living.

FP dropped his head to theground, ashamed and beaten. “He is just a kid.” He repeated in a low whisper.

“Yes, and he is being chargedwith a state offence.” Gladys stated the absurdity of it all. “And they keepsaying that they will have to take him away and send him to that place,” hervoice was trembling now, a mother losing her mind at the mere thought ofsomething bad happening to her child “and I don’t even know where this is and whatwill happen to him and— How can they take away my baby?” the tears streamed downin full force and her sharp intake of breath got lost inside the palm that shebrought to her mouth to suppress her dreadful sob, little Jughead feeling hisown tears running down his cheeks silently at her words and her cries. He didn’twant to make his mom sad, God, he hated seeing her sad. And he was afraid;afraid that he wouldn’t see her again, afraid that the Eskimo kiss they sharedthis morning was the last form of affection he would ever receive.

“I’ll fix it, okay?” FP rushedforward, determined, taking hold of her shoulders and connecting their eyes. “Nobodyis taking Jug away from us, I promise.” She wanted to believe him but at thispoint she really couldn’t.

“I’ve heard enough of yourpromises, FP.” Gladys squirmed free of his hold, eyes cold despite the weaknessof her tears. “How are you going to fix this, huh? With a beer bottle in eachhand? Or with your friends over at the Southside?” she challenged, him takingsome steps back, as she scoffed a chuckle with no humor at all. “You think thatI don’t know…”

“Don’t. Not again.” He warned,minutes before losing control.

“You’re hangover, you reek ofalcohol, your eyes are bloodshot…” She listed with venom the telltail signs, hecouldn’t hide from her. “Tell me that you didn’t go; come on, lie to me.” She challenged,the fire and spark that won him over years ago now turning against him. “Tellme that you weren’t at that God awful place all night while you were supposedto look after your kids.” Her voice raised and startled the baby against herchest, Jellybean sensing the tension and becoming fussy once again.

“I…” He couldn’t find it inhim to lie.

“I can’t even believe you.” Shebreathed, disappointed once again at the man in front of her. “It’s about her,isn’t it?” the wheels inside her head turned sharply, the topic of jealousytowards a specific old flame of his coming to surface again, like numeroustimes before in their fights. “You’re meeting her there, go on, for once inyour life tell me the truth!” she demanded with a stern voice, hand latchingforward to grab his chin and force his eyes on her, chipped nails clawing hisscruffy cheeks to inflict some of the pain he is causing her. “If you’rescrewing her Forsythe, I swear to God—” she threatened with vicious passion.

“Stop.” FP freed his face curtly off her claws. “That’s nonsense! You can accuse me of anything, anything, but I’ve always been faithfulto you.” He stood his ground, mad with anger at this point too. “That’s over;you know that first hand.” His eyes darkened with a mix of spite andvulnerability, the old story still holding a grudge in his heart despite theyears, despite them moving on, despite the feeling of emptiness that he still feltat even the most subtle mention of the first girl he ever loved.  

“I’m gonna leave.” Gladysthrew to his face, chocking on the words as new tears ran down her face. “I’mtelling you, FP, one day I’ll just crack, take the kids and get the hell awayfrom you.” She promised around her sobs, Jellybean starting a crying duet withher mother, like she understood the situation, and FP’s eyes dropped to her, despair painted upon them. “I cannot keep livinglike this, okay? Juggling two jobs, two kids and a ridiculous excuse of a man.”The force of her sobs overtook her slim body, narrow shoulders shaking at theintensity of her breakdown, her young and beautiful face getting wrinkled indespair. “Do you understand what I’m saying? If they take Jughead away, it’sover between us. This version of you, the person you’ve became, you ruined us,you ruined him. Hope you are proud.” She spat to his face and turned away fromhis filled with sorrow and regret face, hugging her daughter tightly and shushing herbetween her own violent cries.

And as little Jughead wassome meters away in the threatening silence of the police vehiclecrying too, lonely, afraid and now in the verge of an ugly panic attack at the possible walking away of his mom, his beacon of calmness and hope shined just like the blondeof her hair under the afternoon sun.

“Juggie.” He heard his name inthe most beautiful whisper and that startled him, abruptly snapping his head toface the source and quickly brushing his cheek over the material of his hoodieagainst his shoulder to hide his moment of weakness, upon seeing Betty’s nosepressed adorably against the window of the car. She motioned for him to roll itdown and he hurried to do so but only up until the middle fearing to even moveat this point.

“Are you okay?” she whisperedin a hushed voice, green doe eyes more rounded than ever in concern, scanningher friend.

He just nodded, still in shockabout the events of the day and the fact that she was there talking to him and notalready at the safety of her home.  

“I snuck out of the car whilemom was talking to the Sheriff. I couldn’t leave without seeing if you wereokay.” Betty let him know and Jughead’s heart did that flippy over thing again,lips parting at a loss of words. “Juggie, your leg!” the little girl gasped inhorror, eyebrows knitting while examining the nasty redness on his knee.

“It’s nothing.” He whisperedin a small, scratchy voice, the first time to form a single word to anyoneafter the incident. “Archie got hurt too.” He was utterly confused that she washere asking him how he was and not holding the redhead’s hand.

“His is just a scratch; he’sjust being a baby, he’ll be fine.” Betty wrinkled her nose in disapproval, still hurt by the obliviousness of the redhead boy. “Where are theytaking you?” she asked in all her child naivety.

“I don’t know.” Jugheadshrugged his little shoulders, picking on his fingers again. “I didn’t mean for this to happen, Betty. You have to believe me.” He pleaded with sad eyes forher to not start treating him differently from now on.

“I know.” She answered in a heartbeat.“I know you, Juggie, you are my friend.” Her small, lovely smile was everythinghe needed for his spirit to be lifted a little and to breathe again. He repliedwith an equal smile of gratitude, everything being dealt easily in the childrenworld, but the corners of his smile wavered as the hushed angry voices of hisparents could be heard again on the background.

His face dropped in sorrow andshame and Betty briefly looked over his head to the quarreling duo. “Think ofsomething nice.” She urged him on, focusing again on him.

“What?” the boy asked,clueless.

“When my parents are fightingor I’m feeling anxious or scared, I always close my eyes and make up a storywith my favorite place and my favorite people.” The cheerful girl explainedfurther. “It helps.” She shrugged a shoulder. “Do it!” Her sparkling forest-likeeyes didn’t leave room for discussion and Jughead felt himself complying,dropping back on the leather seat and closing his smarting eyes.

He imagined Pop’s, two burgersand a chocolate milkshake and he saw her, yellow dress and all, smilingbrightly at him with vanilla ice cream creating a silly moustache over her rosylips. Lost in the fantasy, Jughead smiled.

Betty grinned to herself uponseeing his reaction. “It’s nice, huh?”

“Yeah.” Jughead murmuredblissfully, eyes still closed and unwilling to let go of the lovely image.

There was something thatstartled him again though, that made his eyes snap open and his heart startdancing in his chest. A loud smooch noise filled his ears and wet, warm lipscollided with his still damp cheek and he would swear that he dreamed that tooif it wasn’t for Betty’s smiley face inches away from his bewildered one. Shewas bended over the half opened window, resting on the tips of her dusty goldbow-decorated flats, and grinning from ear to ear lovingly before dropping backon her heels, Jughead’s heart running a marathon at the fact that in the miseryof it all, toady he had gained his first kiss by Betty Cooper.

“Wherever you go, I’ll visit.”She promised and held out her pinky, the raven haired boy curling his around itstill in a state of shock, before Alice Cooper’s demanding voice broke themapart, Betty running quickly back to her mother, sparing him one last ofhis favorite Betty smiles.

The smile that never changedover the years, as well as its effect on his poor heart. The smile thatJughead, sixteen again and in trouble once more with the police, keptenvisioning behind closed eyelashes at a booth at Pop’s over his own smileylips during one of their many now teenage appropriate kisses.

“I’m not talking to youanymore.” The image of her brought him courage and determination to fight forhis rights this time, eyes snapping open and darting to the side still troubled and sad. “I wanta lawyer.” He demanded into the silence of the interogation room before it got interruptedby the sound of the creaking metallic door being pushed open.

“No need.” Like awild wind, Betty appeared, strong-willed and confident, her worried eyesconnecting for a minute with his now relieved ones upon seeing her, the Sherriffjumping off his seat as the deputy behind Betty silently apologized for notbeing able to hold her back. “Jughead is innocent. I’m sure Mr. Andrews willclear everything up for you, Sheriff Keller.” The girl held her ground like atrue Cooper, the man raising an eyebrow at her behavior but following hisdeputy out of the room with a huff, leaving the two teens alone. And as Bettytook a seat across him with the same lovely smile she had sported six yearsago, Jughead knew that as long as she was on his side nothing would be able tobring him down.

Sprawled on the Andrews’ porchstairs, Jughead could feel the freedom on his skin and the evening air easingout his mind after the events of the crazy day he had. Betty was seated nextto him, legs curled under her and knees brushing his ribs, her concerned eyes never leaving him, the girl being on the lookout for any sign ofdiscomfort or sorrow or insecurity so she could vanish it the moment it will cloud his brilliant mind with her encouraging words and her soothingcaresses. His breakdown after the encounter with his father was ugly and heartbreaking,Betty holding him tightly through it all and urging him to unleash all thepined up anger and frustration he held in his heart and now that it was overand calmness was spread between them she just couldn’t leave him out of hersight, wanting with all her power to never see him that way ever again.

“Whatever Fred did, I’ll beforever grateful to him for letting me have this.” Jughead sighed, elbowsresting on the step behind him and eyes darting around before landing on hisbeautiful girlfriend smiling down at him.

“I told you, Jug, we were goingto get you out.” She brushed the single wave away from his forehead lovingly,before letting her fingers caress down his jawline, feeling him sigh in contentunder her touch. “Believe it or not, even my mom offered to help.” That spikedthe boy’s attention, who rose his eyebrows in surprise.

“Thank God she didn’t. I wouldstill be in there, sceduled for a death penalty.” He groaned in his usual sardonic manner and formed a smallsmirk at Betty’s rolling eyes and cute grimace of amusement.

They fell into their previouscomfortable silence, Betty sliding closer to him to start drawing abstractshapes over his chest with her fingers. “I still don’t understand; why just youand not me?” she questioned in exasperation, feeling him sigh and curl his armsaround her waist.

“You don’t have a criminalrecord.” He reminded her, leaving a peck on the side of her arm over her maroonbomber jacket.

“You have one because of thosetwo months at the rehabilitation center, right?” she toyed with the sheepishlapel of his jacket, green eyes focused on his baby blue ones.

“It was juvie, Betty.” Hethrew in apathy. “Don’t use fancy words; there was nothing fancy about thatplace.” There was some bitterness in his voice and Betty decided not to pushhim further since everything was hard on him that day.

“You never told me why youstarted that fire in the first place.” Betty wondered out loud, eyebrowsknitting in confusion as to why she still didn’t know what went down at day inelementary school. “Was it you and Archie playing pranks again?” she cracked aside smirk in amusement, remembering the relentless teasing between them. Hefelt him stiffen under the weight of her question and she frowned more, notknowing what caused the sudden discomfort.

“No.” Jughead shook his headand waited a second, scanning her face before giving up with a defeated sigh. “Itwas for you.” He might as well come clean once and for all, he thought.

Betty bounced her head back indisbelief. “Me?”

“Uh-huh.” He nodded inconfirmation. “May 15th, your birthday. I wanted to do something special,cupcakes, milkshakes, the whole thing. The fire was a result of my ten year oldself being a spaz and not even being able to execute the simple task of lighting tenlittle candles.” His scoff of second-hand embarrassment complimented the brightred color on his cheeks, Jughead averting his eyes to the front and not daringto look at her after sharing with her how much of an awkward boy he used to beand, truth be told, still was.

She blinked a couple of times,flabbergasted and at a loss of words at the boy in front of her that seemed toorbit his whole life around her. “You started a freaking fire and went to a juvenile hall because of me?!” her tonewas high-pitched and incredulous, having some difficulty to wrap her mind aroundthe new revelation. “Jughead!” Betty semi-gaspedsemi-whined, not sure what her reaction should be. Feel flattered by the grandgesture or offer him an earful about how he had no need to impress her so nosuch incidents would happen in the future? The only thing that she was sure ofwas that he was crazy, wonderfully crazy, and she was too; for him.

Jughead just shrugged, turningslowly to examine her reaction and giving her a sly smile upon seeing the lookof love in her green eyes. “That clearly wasn’t part of the plan.” He musedsarcastically before he continued serious now. “That day you taught me a littlegame.” Betty shook her head confused, solemn focus on his handsome face and hewas occupied with lacing and unlacing their fingers over his stomach, his eyeswatching the action. “To close my eyes and escape to my favorite place with myfavorite people when life got hard. And I kept doing it all those years, todaytoo.” He nodded to himself before looking up at her, feeling his heart swell atthe look of love he received back. “Thinking of you chasing all of my demonsaway. It always works.” He confessed truthfully, vulnerability and a tad of embarrassmentin his calm voice, sharing with her parts of himself he never thought he would.

Betty just shook her head,leaning down to capture her lips with his, slow and sweet, both of them sighinginto the kiss and holding each other tighter, happy that they had finally foundeach other at the end. “You, Jughead Jones, are the most amazing guy I evermet.” She breathed inside the kiss, lips dancing against his soft ones as shechanged the angle of their kiss, Jughead feeling his whole being gettingovercome by the soothing aura of Betty Cooper. “I’ll slay your demons one byone, I promise you that with all my heart.” And as their kiss deepened and thesensation of her lips was all he could focus on with every fiber of his body,his worries and fears and insecurities got chased away just like that day when that chaste kiss on his cheek reminded him that in the mist of chaos hewould always have somebody anchoring him back to shore; his one and true love,Betty Cooper. 

#bughead #jetty #bughead fanfiction #bughead fic #bughead prompt #riverdale #riverdale fic #anon #riverdaleships #otp:sundaes & plaids #Anonymous #mywriting

[amarmeme]

The Shelved Works of Varric Tethras: CH 17 -- All Business

Pairing: Cassandra Pentaghast/ Varric Tethras Synopsis:  Varric Tethras’ literary cast-offs, abandoned for various reasons. Until a certain determined Seeker discovers the lot. Chapter Synopsis: Varric convinces Cassandra to rest and they finally have a chance to start real talking. On AO3

Dashed on a torn page from Hard in Hightown 3: The Re-Punchening

Story idea -- Gang leader is sole survivor of an ambush. Heads back to Ferelden in search of his her long lost family. Gets sucked into defending village from fade rift. Joins the Inquisition. Finds redemption?

If hard pressed, Cassandra couldn’t recount how long she’d been sitting in the sickened Seeker’s quarters. Judging by Varric’s considering gaze, the man could no doubt fill her in with absolute precision. For what seemed like the hundredth time, he petitioned her to abandoned the post.

“Come to bed, Cass.”

“Cole had said--”

“--I know what he said, but I don’t even think he even understands what sleeping is.”

She sighed, unable to form a coherent argument. Although Cole had said her presence was helpful, she’d be of little use to anyone else in her current state. A constant stream of jarring, jumbled thoughts flew through her mind, flashes of Varric’s embrace swimming in tandem with Daniel’s red streaked face and subsequent strike of mercy. Everything sweet became tainted, coated in a red haze. Perhaps it was time to sleep, in a proper bed.

“Alright.”

Varric wasted no time. Cassandra was dragged out of her wooden chair, lower back crying in protest. He spirited her out of the dark room, ushering her down the hall past the garden with the tight grip of a hand. The fresh  air was revitalizing, the morning chill nipping her senses and granting a sense of clarity. Several onlookers stood stock still with wide, worried eyes as the pair passed. Had it really been that long since their return to Skyhold with Seeker Taubert? Each person held the expression of someone spotting a ghost.

“Has something happened, Varric?”

He swung open the door to his room, sweeping her inside before shutting it with a shoulder. Leaning against the wood, he sighed sharply.

“Just the usual. The Inquisitor jumped through a magic mirror, our resident witch’s almost frolicking through the gardens after figuring how to turn into a -- I shit you not -- dragon. And you’re guarding a ticking lyrium bomb.” He shook his head. “How we’re not dead yet I don’t understand.”

“A dragon?!” Cassandra slumped against Varric’s bedpost. Apparently a lot had happened in a short amount of time.

“Oh, and I told you this last night.” She began to protest, not remembering the discussion. “I can see your gears working there, Seeker, and I’m gonna stop you. Just get in the damn bed.”

She scoffed, but let herself be shooed from the post. Sitting on the edge of the bed, she pried off her boots. They tumbled to the floor. The sound rang in her thoughts, stirring up ideas of undressing before Varric. She was not in her quarters, of course.

“Why am I here?” Cassandra threw back the covers and crawled onto the soft mattress. As soon as her head hit the pillow, she realized she didn’t much care.

“Because my bed’s somehow bigger than yours. Scoot over, I’m coming in too.”

She rolled her eyes. “If you are expecting anything, don’t.”

“I can’t believe you haven’t figured out how this works yet, Cass. When you’re worried, I’m worried. When you’re losing shut-eye. So am I.”

Her heart pattered in double time. It was such a Varric thing to say, to be wrapped up in her issues like they were his too. The thought stilled her. Were they his issues now too? He’d said he loved her, they’d had relations twice. She believe she loved him, or at least was fairly certain that was the feeling. It’d been so long she wasn’t sure how to declare the emotion beating against her breast.

Cassandra reclined stiffly on her allotted, imaginary side until Varric settled. The dwarf pulled her against his chest and dispelled the tension without a word. It seemed, above all else, entirely right. She breathed in the mixture of him, ink and oil with a tinge of something like the scent stirred up in the air after a hard rain. Perhaps it was so for all dwarves, unable to shake the connection to the ground despite being above it. It was pleasant, and soothing, a familiar smell for a man who had become quite familiar himself. A few deep breaths and she sank into the state before slumber where all edges became soft. Any worries could wait for later. He kissed her forehead and they soon tumbled off into much needed sleep.

Blades had given him a day and he was damn well taking it. Luckily Cass hadn’t fought him on the sleep, too tired to think straight. She napped still, wrapped up in his blanket. It was starting to become familiar, the straight-laced Seeker all loose and unraveled within his reach. To think, a few weeks ago they’d been snapping at one another in the Rest. Life had been crazy since Hawke entered it, but this was completely unexpected. There was no use in questioning it. Varric was galloping at full tilt, willing to see how the story unfurled. Hopefully with a leggy, raven-haired Seeker at his side.

Suddenly Cass shifted and came back down from her dreams with a soft smile. Maker’s balls he wanted to kiss her until she couldn’t breath.

“Better?”

The woman’s exaggerated stretch, arms above her head and back arched like a cat’s, was answer enough. He envied the blanket wrapped around her waist, her legs. That’s where he desperately wanted to be ever since she’d let him between her thighs a few nights ago.  So far they’d been going at it fast and hot. That morning in the tent was enough to stoke his imagination for years to come, Cass bent over for his taking. Varric had to clear his throat at the conjured image, his cock waking up at the idea of trying that again. It was a lost cause though, he wasn’t going to push it after all the shit she’d been dealing with. But damn him to the void he wanted to worship her.

Cass turned to her side, one hand beneath her cheek. She studied him with a quiet certainty, lips pressed into a line as if she knew exactly how he was pieced together and could see all the fault lines.  And maybe she did know. There’d been enough confessing on his side in the last few days. It didn’t escape him for a second that she’d not professed her feelings with the same amount of fervor.

“Varric.” She practically purred.

“Yeah, Seeker?”

“Oh, are we all business?”

He laughed. It was hard to imagine that. Looking back, there hadn’t been a point where’d they acted at all like neutral parties. There’d always been an undercurrent, a spark of tension even if she’d been oblivious to it.

“Cassandra,” he amended. She scooted closer, her lips deliciously close.

“I like when you call me Cass.” She ran a hand down his shoulder, over his outreached arm. “No one calls me that.”

Everything became warm quick. Her fingers moved to his chest, tracing the line of his tunic, playing with the hair there. Legs were entwined, hips pressed achingly close. Her dark brown eyes lit up with wicked delight as she felt his arousal. He didn't move against her, rather let the Seeker do all the seducing.

“I thought I wasn’t supposed to expect anything?”

“Is it not better to defy expectations? I was of the impression you specialized in such dealings.”

“Oh, I’m corrupting you aren’t I?”

She licked her lips and rolled her hips once more, and Varric was done for.

They stripped themselves efficiently, less like passionate lovers and more so seasoned soldiers. It wasn’t for lack of want, rather a blessed lack of urgency. Breeches and tunics were tossed off the bed and the blankets pulled up, shrouding them. The makeshift tent provided a sense of intimacy that a bare mattress just couldn’t do. He rolled on top, hands near her head, hips cradled between her legs, cock throbbing at the prospect of being inside her again. He continued to let her set the pace, enjoying the coiling up in the pit of his stomach that came with prolonging the slide.

Cassandra’s strong, dexterous fingers were everywhere. In his hair, on his jaw, pulling his chin towards her sultry lips. She kissed him slowly, her other hand discovering the curvature of his back, smoothing the muscles there then nails lightly scouring warm skin. All in all, it was a damn fine place to be. Her tongue skirted the seam of his mouth and he had to reward the deed, pressing heavily against her hips as he sucked on a thick, pouty lip. She practically arched off the bed once he cupped a breast, brushing a pert nipple with a thumb. The low, quick gasp against his mouth filled his chest with the sort of masculine gratification that women always rolled their eyes at with one another, but secretly thrilled for. Cass wasn’t arguing the finer points of his thirst and renewed fervor, roughened hands sinking into her hips and urging her up and open.

Being a dwarf had its disadvantages when sleeping with humans, shortness the worst of it, but not where it really mattered. He was thick everywhere, Ancestors be fucking praised for something. Her lips parted on a stuttered breath as he pushed slowly, reverently into her heat, stretching the tight grip of her body. Her stomach clenched in response to the forced intake of air, and the reaction shook him unexpectedly. She'd hooked his heart and tugged it with each small detail, the soft skin at her collarbone, the of tilt of her chin, the pulse at the base of her throat. For a moment Varric forgot her overwhelming strength and sought to keep her safe. It was infernally hot under the covers, but in no way would he expose her bare to anything. Even himself.

There was a shift somewhere along the line and they were no longer fucking, but the alternative, a dangerous combination of sweetness and sin. Maker he hadn’t had this kind of intimacy for so long and there was no dam that could keep his feelings from flooding over. Varric grabbed a strong thigh and raised it up to his side, hand lingering, stroking down to an ankle. Due to his height he had to lean over, doubling her at the waist, in order to kiss her properly. The angle was almost punishing, sending him deeper and wrenching a hiss out of her.

“That okay?” The intensity in her eyes, the line of jaw, her furrowed brows said otherwise, but as he retreated she caught him in her grasp. Like a spider with its prey, she pulled him in, dangerously close, winding and weaving a net around him. “Let me adjust.” Her thickly accented voice was magnetic, especially at a whisper, and everything about her drew him deeper. Varric rested his forehead against the beautiful creature’s beneath him. Her soft, panted breaths accompanied the barest of nods and his gut clenched with another tug of his heart as she inadvertently tied him into knots.

He couldn’t stop himself.

“I really do love you, Cass.”

In a move that was probably cruel, he took the opportunity to pull out almost entirely. Her eyelids fluttered as he rested at the precipice and he thought of a thousand sonnets. Thrusting back in with an exaggerated slowness, he came up with a thousand more. This woman was all the inspiration he’d ever need. He continued to drive in and out of her with an unfair amount of finesse, an unspoken question lingering between them.

But do you love me? He said something else entirely.

“What do you need? Tell me.” Varric tried to lean back, let her unfurl, but she shook her head.

“Stay close.” She quirked her upper lip before adding, “You won’t break me.”

He wedged another leg against his chest, calf resting in the crook of his arm. She gripped his shoulders, tipping back her head after a few deep seated thrusts. Her exposed throat beckoned, and he sucked and soothed the sensitive skin there. A shiver ran through her as he murmured praise against her neck. The tight, wet grip of her was intoxicating. His blood pumped with incredible desire, an urgent need to see her come and spend himself there.  

Varric dropped her leg in order to cup a heavy breast, pink tip straining for his touch. Bowing as if in prayer, or more like making amends, he sucked and teased until she forced him back to her mouth. Begging to be kissed, he obeyed, then pulled out of her swiftly, seating himself just as quick. A groan ripped through them both at the sensation, breath mingling between open mouths. A stream of pleas fell off her usually sharp and demanding tongue, each more impassioned than the last.

Her skin was slick with sweat, her ankles locked at his back and fingers in his hair. He was going to come at this rate, sweat on his brow, a rising tide in his groin. Each cry and shake and moan filled him impossibly close to the brim, and he worried about spilling over before she could. Sliding a hand between them, he found her perfectly, indecently wet. He rubbed a thumb against the little bundle of nerves there and she arched against him, breasts pressed against his chest. If there was anything better than making a beautiful woman come, Varric hadn’t found it yet.

The tide rose and crashed over them both. She pulled on his wrist between them as the sensation became too much, wrapping their fingers together instead. Their joined hands were pushed above her head and he chased the last few ripples of pleasure before they disappeared. And so -- it was the best sex he'd ever had.

“Fuck,” he sighed, pulling out reluctantly. “That was incredible.”

She didn't appear to hear him. Cassandra drew the back of his broad hand to her lips and kissed there, a promise. She murmured his name against calloused knuckles and stared at a darkening corner of the room. “I do,” she said, unfocused eyes blinking at nothing. “That is yes. I-- do care for you.” It was forced, hard, and came across as if she was trying to make him feel better.

“That sounds pretty convincing.”

He scratched at his shoulder for the lack of a better distraction. She sure as shit didn't seem enthusiastic about the concept of caring for him. Then Cassandra pierced his thick, stubborn chest with sudden focus, brown eyes glistening and lip quavering in frustration. The slight movement could have been a figment of his imagination; he didn't think it was possible for her to cry. Was that awful to believe or a compliment? Before he could pull his head out of his ass, she sat up, scooting him off her lap.

“I may not be as silver tongued as you, but that does not make it any less real.”

He was an idiot. The only person she really loved had been killed in front of her when she was just a child. The only man she’d been intimate with died in a fucking explosion and directly thereafter she'd been saddled with a smart ass dwarf who apparently knew nothing. Of course she had problems saying it. Maferath’s balls he was a prick at times.

“I'm sorry.” He offered her a small smile. “Cass, I’m a terrible man. Ah, shit, don't cry.”

“I'm not,” she hissed, batting away his hand.

“Fine, don’t water the bed.”

She scoffed, but relaxed a little, shoulders softening. “It's not easy for me to tell you I love you, Varric. I have been alone for so long. Now with our responsibilities here coming to an end, it seems I must decide what is next.”

The unspoken words there were unpleasant at best. Did she move on without him? Was this just an ill-fated romance? Would she have been better off coming across a locked trunk all those months ago, his drafts and innermost thoughts hidden to her forever? He swallowed down a hard lump in his throat. He was better off for it, no matter the long-term effects. Cassandra fiddled with the sheet, pulling it taut between fingers, letting it fall loose. Varric stilled her hands before she frayed the damn thing.

“I wish to rebuild the Seekers.”

“I know that.”

“And you will return to Kirkwall.”

Varric simply nodded. He could see the writing on the wall. This was not the type of conversation he wished to have. Ever. He was the master of compartmentalizing -- of pushing the personal shit aside for as long as possible, hoping if he could downplay it in front of everyone else then maybe he’d believe it himself. The Seeker was the opposite -- a force of nature that had problems and dealt with them, sword first. Neither continued, sitting in silence for the moment, each contemplating what the future held in their mind.

“We have a bit of time,” she sighed. “Unfortunately Corypheus still lives.”

“Yeah, never thought I’d wish for his health.” She shook her head, but smiled anyway. “We’re not being irresponsible if we talk about this later, Cass. There’s still a world to save.”

Thankfully before she could press the issue, her stomach growled from neglect. Cassandra frowned as if to scare her hunger away, and Varric wanted to kiss her for it.

She groaned. “I have never said this before, but I would give anything to stay in bed.”

“And as much as I’d like to lie here and feed you, people need to see you’re still sane," he said. "Not a raving lunatic with red eyes frothing at the mouth.”

“Ugh.”

Cass rolled to her feet, gathering up her clothing and staring at them as if they were Dorian’s and had not a clue as how to start. He felt the same way, head in a fog. His thoughts were a mess, his heart was a mess. It seemed Cassandra knew just how to unsettle his relative state of calm. Varric felt like a love-sick kid again. And that was when mistakes got made.

They didn’t have time for mistakes.

Thanks for reading!

#the shelved works of varric tethras #my writing #dragon age inquisition #cassarric #cassandra penthagast #varric tethras #tethraghast #fanfiction #dragon age fanfiction

[hudsonespie]

Seafarers On The Edge Of Serious Mental Distress, Still Not Recognised As Key Workers – Report

The latest Seafarers Happiness Index, published by The Mission to Seafarers, has revealed the ongoing impact of COVID-19 on the welfare of international seafarers and their families.

The report makes it clear that the seafarer community is in the midst of a mental health crisis. The report shows the continuing decline of happiness at sea, largely due to the inability of seafarers to sign off and return home. Heavy workloads, virus fears and a perceived lack of COVID-19 precautions on board vessels are exacerbating the decline in satisfaction. Without immediate action, there are significant risks for the mental and physical wellbeing of crew and growing risk to safety.

The latest survey, undertaken in association with the Shipowners’ Club and Wallem Group, analyses the experiences of seafarers across the global maritime industry between April and June 2020, at the height of the COVID-19 pandemic. Overall, seafarer happiness has dropped from 6.30 in Q1 2020 to 6.18 in Q2 2020.

Representation Image

Welfare crisis threatening seafarer and vessel safety

The latest report shows vessels are sailing with fewer crew, increased sickness onboard and a pressure to keep hygiene standards at almost hospital-like levels. The demands of meeting these standards while also maintaining social distancing are relentless and seafarers are struggling to adhere to new guidance.

This level of workload has been relentless since the outbreak of COVID-19 and is clearly taking its toll. Seafarers have reported feeling unsupported and stressed, and without respite, which is impacting work standards as well as the welfare of seafarers. Combined with the challenge of accessing medical services, the risk of an increase in incidents of self-harm and in the number of accidents is very real as stress impacts work, compromising safety at all levels.

Andrew Wright, Secretary General of The Mission to Seafarers, commented: “We are in the midst of a welfare crisis. While Q1 showed us how seafarers suffered as COVID-19 struck home and provided insight into the support that was needed, the Q2 report highlights the cost of inaction and the need for immediate solutions. It is paramount that we see progress with crew changeovers, onboard PPE and improved communication between shore and sea, to defuse this ticking time-bomb. Protecting seafarers is a priority and governments must now come together and work with industry before it is too late.”

Louise Hall, Director – Loss Prevention at the Shipowners’ Club commented: “Among other issues, this report highlights the toll that social distancing has taken on relationships and connectivity on board. Reports of additional safety measures, such as separating tables and limiting the capacity of mess rooms at meal times, has made even the most habitual social interactions difficult. This, coupled with extended periods of time at sea, raises serious concerns for seafarers’ mental wellbeing as feelings of loneliness and isolation intensify.”

Frank Coles, Chief Executive Officer, Wallem Group, commented: “Never has the statement ‘money doesn’t buy happiness’ had more meaning than in the crew crisis. No bonus or extra pay can resolve the anguish, mental stress and problems being faced by the crew today.”

The report also reaffirms the importance of communication to seafarers. With many seafarers unable to leave their vessels or contact their family due to the crisis, online access is fundamental to their wellbeing. Without the connection to home and restricted support from ship visitors and port chaplains, seafarers are on the edge of serious mental distress. It is reported that many companies are not communicating well with their seafarers and little support is on offer. With little or no communication, seafarers are trapped on vessels, imagining the worst.

The Q1 2020 Seafarers Happiness Index identified the pride that seafarers feel in their work and their hope that the industry would protect them. Today, this is clearly tempered with disappointment that seafarers are not recognised as key workers. The challenges being reported are reaching intolerable levels, due to contracts being disregarded and growing reports of sexism, racism and bullying and drunkenness onboard. Seafarers are at a tipping point and it is essential that faster progress is made to protect seafarers and stop the industry from falling into a deeper crisis.

The message is clear: crew changes are needed, and those who can make them happen must do so, now. Only once seafarers can return home to their families and those serving at sea feel safe can we avert the both the immediate and the long-term impact of a mental health crisis among our seafarers.

The Mission would like to offer its thanks to all seafarers who completed the survey.

Press Release

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from Storage Containers https://www.marineinsight.com/shipping-news/seafarers-on-the-edge-of-serious-mental-distress-still-not-recognised-as-key-workers-report/ via http://www.rssmix.com/

[centuryassociates]

Top Five Things to Know if You’re Building Your Cannabis Empire Through M&A

It’s no secret that multiple state-by-state operators are building their cannabis empires through aggressive mergers and acquisitions (“M&A”). Last year, our cannabis business attorneys closed more than $100 million in cannabis company acquisitions, and that shows no signs of stopping in 2019. Cannabis M&A is not your run-of-the-mill business dealing though, and working from boilerplate, rote M&A documents is hugely dangerous. In addition, diligence is oftentimes like a regulatory spiderweb laden with liabilities that other businesses do not face. In addition, the barriers to entry in the cannabis industry are increasingly high, tedious, and protectionist, which can really torture business deals. So, if you find yourself turning into a larger multi-state operator though acquiring cannabis businesses, below are the top five things you need to know.

1. Barriers to Entry

Every state is different in how it treats would-be cannabis licensees. And the differences between states are compounded by whether the state is medicinal, adult-use, low-CBD/high-THC, or all of the above. This translates into not everyone being eligible to own cannabis businesses. And these barriers to entry may include some or all of the following: residency requirements, local control elements that vary by city and county, liquidity standards, background checks, and invasive disclosures of personal information and past conduct in business and industry. Any prospective cannabis business purchaser needs to ensure that they meet all requirements for incoming owners before even contemplating a business purchase and expending time and hours negotiating a deal that may be legally impossible. Note also that localities are increasingly implementing their own barriers to entry (like local residency, past white collar crimes and civil infractions that bar ownership, and license caps), so don’t ignore the applicable municipal code standards either.

2.  Closing Can Be Chaos.

Most if not all states will tell cannabis businesses to report to them when new owners or parties of interest come into the picture. Why? Because of the federal enforcement priorities stemming from the now rescinded Cole Memo, every state must know exactly who is in control of/financing its cannabis licensees. Turning to M&A, every acquisition agreement has pre- and post-closing conditions and cannabis is no different. However, depending on the state or even the city or county in which the cannabis business operates, and due to new owner reporting requirements, conditions to and after closing will vary wildly. Ultimately, they will depend on whether state and local regulators demand that incoming owners close on business interests first so that they may be vetted and checked in that capacity, or they will depend on whether regulators must first examine the purchase agreement, approve the new owners prior to closing, and only then the new owners can take over. This is a very good reason why a one-size fits all boilerplate acquisition agreement is not going to work for your cannabis acquisitions. So, be sure to check what the subject state/locals require when it comes to closing.

3.  Diligence may be a Mess. 

The regulatory histories of most cannabis businesses are likely going to be chalk-full of various entitlements that enable the business to operate. And where cannabis remains federally illegal, a good amount of cannabis businesses are still operating on an all-cash basis and all of them are dealing with 280E. The diligence on these businesses then is usually more intense than other businesses. Would-be buyers need to exercise extreme care when vetting a cannabis business to look for ticking time bombs that surround state licensing compliance, local licensing compliance (which will be different depending on the local government), tax reporting (federal, state, and local) and specifically compliance with 280E (which can be a disaster). See here and here for how a cannabis business should prepare itself to sell. Also, if you’re buying a cannabis business that was operative under older, less restrictive regulations, you may face a situation where there’s little to no diligence at all because no records were kept and everything was done in cash (see Los Angeles for example).

4.  Valuations are All Over the Place. 

Pretty much every cannabis market in the U.S. is still emerging because they’re silo’ed marketplaces designed by state governments that continue to change as industry issues arise. Plus, the oldest regulated cannabis markets are Washington and Colorado (they’re only around 6 years old), which still doesn’t give us a ton of market data or operational history to properly value the businesses therein or in other states. Without a doubt, just having a cannabis license is valuable, but when a business is pre-revenue with, let’s say, a build-out ahead of it to satisfy local laws with constantly evolving state and local cannabis regulations in what will be a potentially saturated market in a couple of years, it’s really hard to say what the right valuation is. That hasn’t stopped certain cannabis businesses selling for pretty large sums though just based on the momentum of legalization and the prospect of market demand.

5.  You’ve Probably Already Violated State and Local Law. 

I cannot tell you the number of acquisitions our firm has seen after-the-fact where the parties violated state and local law from the outset of the agreement. Many folks don’t realize that, on the whole, state cannabis licenses are not transferable, so they cannot be individually bought and sold. You actually have to buy the company that holds the licenses (and all of its assets and liabilities). In addition, in most if not all states, you can’t separate licenses out from a vertically integrated company in order to sell them. And on average you can’t sell local entitlements either without them becoming void. There are also typically strict timing requirements in reporting acquisitions to both state and local regulators and parties usually violate those out of the gate because they’re either not aware or they don’t think that the reporting requirement applies to them. And if you take control of a cannabis business and do not tell regulators, your license is going to be in hot water. Specifically regarding the locals, if you’re dealing with a development agreement or other specific entitlement, assignment isn’t going to be freely allowed. The majority of the time, to get by the locals you not only have to ask for permission, you may even have to have a hearing in front of the City Council or Planning Commission to take over the entitlement. In certain states, taking over a cannabis business may even require cessation of the business and a new license application while the new owners are checked out. For the unwary or reckless buyer who may not know or care about the intensity of the regulations faced by cannabis businesses, their entire acquisition agreement may be completely illegal and grounds for license cancellation.

It’s only a matter of time before regulators begin investigating the nature of cannabis acquisitions to ensure that the transaction complied with applicable regulations. So, err on the safe side and make sure you know the regulations and your eligibility so that due diligence is smooth and compliance is less painful, and so that you don’t waste time and money on an illegal transaction.

Top Five Things to Know if You’re Building Your Cannabis Empire Through M&A posted first on https://centuryassociates.blogspot.com/

[forensiceyes]

Top Five Things to Know if You’re Building Your Cannabis Empire Through M&A

It’s no secret that multiple state-by-state operators are building their cannabis empires through aggressive mergers and acquisitions (“M&A”). Last year, our cannabis business attorneys closed more than $100 million in cannabis company acquisitions, and that shows no signs of stopping in 2019. Cannabis M&A is not your run-of-the-mill business dealing though, and working from boilerplate, rote M&A documents is hugely dangerous. In addition, diligence is oftentimes like a regulatory spiderweb laden with liabilities that other businesses do not face. In addition, the barriers to entry in the cannabis industry are increasingly high, tedious, and protectionist, which can really torture business deals. So, if you find yourself turning into a larger multi-state operator though acquiring cannabis businesses, below are the top five things you need to know.

1. Barriers to Entry

Every state is different in how it treats would-be cannabis licensees. And the differences between states are compounded by whether the state is medicinal, adult-use, low-CBD/high-THC, or all of the above. This translates into not everyone being eligible to own cannabis businesses. And these barriers to entry may include some or all of the following: residency requirements, local control elements that vary by city and county, liquidity standards, background checks, and invasive disclosures of personal information and past conduct in business and industry. Any prospective cannabis business purchaser needs to ensure that they meet all requirements for incoming owners before even contemplating a business purchase and expending time and hours negotiating a deal that may be legally impossible. Note also that localities are increasingly implementing their own barriers to entry (like local residency, past white collar crimes and civil infractions that bar ownership, and license caps), so don’t ignore the applicable municipal code standards either.

2.  Closing Can Be Chaos.

Most if not all states will tell cannabis businesses to report to them when new owners or parties of interest come into the picture. Why? Because of the federal enforcement priorities stemming from the now rescinded Cole Memo, every state must know exactly who is in control of/financing its cannabis licensees. Turning to M&A, every acquisition agreement has pre- and post-closing conditions and cannabis is no different. However, depending on the state or even the city or county in which the cannabis business operates, and due to new owner reporting requirements, conditions to and after closing will vary wildly. Ultimately, they will depend on whether state and local regulators demand that incoming owners close on business interests first so that they may be vetted and checked in that capacity, or they will depend on whether regulators must first examine the purchase agreement, approve the new owners prior to closing, and only then the new owners can take over. This is a very good reason why a one-size fits all boilerplate acquisition agreement is not going to work for your cannabis acquisitions. So, be sure to check what the subject state/locals require when it comes to closing.

3.  Diligence may be a Mess. 

The regulatory histories of most cannabis businesses are likely going to be chalk-full of various entitlements that enable the business to operate. And where cannabis remains federally illegal, a good amount of cannabis businesses are still operating on an all-cash basis and all of them are dealing with 280E. The diligence on these businesses then is usually more intense than other businesses. Would-be buyers need to exercise extreme care when vetting a cannabis business to look for ticking time bombs that surround state licensing compliance, local licensing compliance (which will be different depending on the local government), tax reporting (federal, state, and local) and specifically compliance with 280E (which can be a disaster). See here and here for how a cannabis business should prepare itself to sell. Also, if you’re buying a cannabis business that was operative under older, less restrictive regulations, you may face a situation where there’s little to no diligence at all because no records were kept and everything was done in cash (see Los Angeles for example).

4.  Valuations are All Over the Place. 

Pretty much every cannabis market in the U.S. is still emerging because they’re silo’ed marketplaces designed by state governments that continue to change as industry issues arise. Plus, the oldest regulated cannabis markets are Washington and Colorado (they’re only around 6 years old), which still doesn’t give us a ton of market data or operational history to properly value the businesses therein or in other states. Without a doubt, just having a cannabis license is valuable, but when a business is pre-revenue with, let’s say, a build-out ahead of it to satisfy local laws with constantly evolving state and local cannabis regulations in what will be a potentially saturated market in a couple of years, it’s really hard to say what the right valuation is. That hasn’t stopped certain cannabis businesses selling for pretty large sums though just based on the momentum of legalization and the prospect of market demand.

5.  You’ve Probably Already Violated State and Local Law. 

I cannot tell you the number of acquisitions our firm has seen after-the-fact where the parties violated state and local law from the outset of the agreement. Many folks don’t realize that, on the whole, state cannabis licenses are not transferable, so they cannot be individually bought and sold. You actually have to buy the company that holds the licenses (and all of its assets and liabilities). In addition, in most if not all states, you can’t separate licenses out from a vertically integrated company in order to sell them. And on average you can’t sell local entitlements either without them becoming void. There are also typically strict timing requirements in reporting acquisitions to both state and local regulators and parties usually violate those out of the gate because they’re either not aware or they don’t think that the reporting requirement applies to them. And if you take control of a cannabis business and do not tell regulators, your license is going to be in hot water. Specifically regarding the locals, if you’re dealing with a development agreement or other specific entitlement, assignment isn’t going to be freely allowed. The majority of the time, to get by the locals you not only have to ask for permission, you may even have to have a hearing in front of the City Council or Planning Commission to take over the entitlement. In certain states, taking over a cannabis business may even require cessation of the business and a new license application while the new owners are checked out. For the unwary or reckless buyer who may not know or care about the intensity of the regulations faced by cannabis businesses, their entire acquisition agreement may be completely illegal and grounds for license cancellation.

It’s only a matter of time before regulators begin investigating the nature of cannabis acquisitions to ensure that the transaction complied with applicable regulations. So, err on the safe side and make sure you know the regulations and your eligibility so that due diligence is smooth and compliance is less painful, and so that you don’t waste time and money on an illegal transaction.

Top Five Things to Know if You’re Building Your Cannabis Empire Through M&A posted first on http://ronenkurzfeld.blogspot.com