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#the thing is some of the other boys

goongiveusnothing · 2 years

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Maybeeee the nose jobs are to fix the cocaine consumption? It does wreck havoc to your nose and we know from the lyrics on Harry's House.. he's quite fond of a line.

I just think he's probably too young to need that? It seems much more of a vanity thing, because his nose is changing in shape and getting smaller. I do wonder how much he uses though. And the other drugs. He also drinks a lot in his music and smokes a lot of pot.

#the thing is some of the other boys #also do drugs #and yet they don't look as rough as he does?#botoxrry #nose job #cocaine #harry styles

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storytellerofuntoldlegends · 6 months

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the flower ranchers energy is something else this season. they hate each other but also can't get enough of each other. tango's scathing "it's you" to scott at the beginning but his teasing "pumpkin boy" towards him in the last session. scott generally being a menace to jimmy but also trying to help him make a guess on tango's task. jimmy rushing to defend tango and trying to say scott was making things up (and then also the teasing/crooning way he went "he's gone shy, tango!" to scott HELLO??) meanwhile tango was absolutely cackling on the inside bc scott was right and jimmy wasn't getting it.

idk i need to examine that trio under a microscope bc we've never really seen those three properly interact and this is what we get??? /pos

#mcyt #secret life #flower ranchers #flower husbands #team ranchers #scott smajor #jimmy solidarity #tangotek #idk what's going on between those three but they should kiss about it maybe #you put some ex husbands and ex soulmates in the near vicinity of each other and you get this i guess #i also cant stop rotating the way tango called scott 'pumpkin boy'#it was such a blink and youll miss it thing #but it was both so teasing and so fond #AND JIMMY?? WITH THE SHY COMMENT????#where did that rizz come from jimothy

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starry-bi-sky · 1 month

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Stuck in the middle of a forest made of

Flesh and bones and they're all scared of

A lost little boy who has lost his heart

Fear's not enough, they have to

Tear him apart —-------

There are two things Daniel Fenton knows that his family knows as well:

He’s adopted.

He can’t remember anything else before that.

‘Adoption’ is a loose term, implying that they went through the official legal processes and troubles of adopting a child into their home willingly, and with the full intention of doing so going into it. That is not what happened. What happened is that Jasmine Fenton found a half-dead child, in strange clothing, in the middle of the woods at her Aunt Alicia’s cabin, and then she went and got her parents.

What happened is that a twelve year old Danny woke up in the same cabin, wearing clothes much too big on him that didn’t belong to him, and with very little memory of before that moment. He wakes up like a spring being set loose, sitting up so fast he scares the daylights out of Jasmine Fenton sitting next to him. He wakes up, reaching for his sleeve for something that isn’t there, and when it isn’t his mind stutters, like he’s tripped at the top of a steep hill.

When they ask him for his name, he tells them, clearing muddled thoughts from his mind; Danny. He’s twelve.

(He thinks that’s his name, at least. It sounds right; it feels right. If he thinks really hard about it, he thinks he can remember someone calling him that, utter adoration in their voice. So it must be his name.)

The Jasmine girl convinces her parents to take him home with them, and they give him the spare guest room upstairs. He has nothing to fill it with.

It’s… a strange experience, to go to a ‘new’ home when he doesn’t even remember his old one.

The official adoption process… happens. He can’t say it’s easy, or difficult. He’s oblivious for the most of it, Jasmine intends on helping him settle in and Danny can’t say he enjoys the smothering. He learns that he is stubbornly self-independent, that’s one new thing he knows about himself.

His adoption papers say ‘Daniel J. Fenton’. Danny remembers staring at the name ‘Daniel’ for a long, long moment, something curdling sour in his sternum. His name is Danny, that he knows. But it’s not Daniel. But he doesn’t know any other way of saying it, so he keeps his complaints to himself.

(Jack Fenton boisterously claps his hand on Danny’s shoulder and jerks him around, grinning wide as he welcomes him into the Fenton Family. Danny’s mind blanches at the touch on his shoulder, an instinct snapping like the maw of a snake, telling him to cut off the man’s fingers for daring to touch him.)

(He keeps the thought to himself, tension rising up his shoulders the longer Jack Fenton’s heavy hand stays on him.)

They found Danny in the summer. It’s a perfect coincidence, Maddie Fenton says before she goes back into her lab with Jack Fenton. She says it’s enough time to allow Danny to adjust; that they’ll enroll him into the school year in the fall. Then she stuffs a canister of ectoplasm onto the top shelf, and disappears like the ghosts she studies back down the stairs.

(There’s something eerily familiar about the ectoplasm sitting in the fridge, something unsettlingly so. Danny knows what that stuff is, but he doesn’t know where. When the house is empty, he takes a can from the fridge and inspects it.)

Jazz wants him to leave the house. Danny doesn’t want to step foot outside of the FentonWorks building until he has something that quells the feeling of vulnerability he gets whenever he does. He tried to once, and he felt exposed. Unsafe.

He turned back around and went inside.

—-------

Where do we go

When the river's running slow

Where do we run

When the cats kill one by one

—------

One day, when the house is empty — or, as empty as it can be; the Fenton parents down in the lab, and jazz out with friends. Danny is making a sandwich, and he caves into the urge to flip the knife in his hands between his fingers. A childish impulse, but one he falls for nonetheless. It comes to him easily, like second nature, in fact. The slip of the blade between his fingers is seamless, flowing with an ease like water running down the wall.

He’s almost startled by it; his body holds memories that his mind does not. Muscles that know which way to move and twist, limbs that know how to hold and how to throw. He continues twirling it, fascinated, as if he were a scientist discovering a new species of animal.

It’s not for a handful of minutes when a new thought hits him; an impulsive thought that pops in the back of his mind like a firecracker; Danny moves without thinking.

He turns, and throws the knife. The pull of his shoulder, the flick of his elbow, is familiar like a hug. He knows when to let go, and the blade flies through the air in impressive speed, embedding itself into the wall with a hearty, loud thunk. Sinking into the drywall like butter.

Danny stares at it in shock, he feels relieved — about what? — before he feels the guilt. He scrambles across the kitchen to pull it out, heart racing in his chest at being caught, and prays no one notices the hole it left behind.

(He runs up the stairs before anyone can find him, food forgotten, and hides the knife beneath his mattress like a guilty murder weapon.)

After that, he leaves the house more. It’s more out of fear of being caught than the desire to leave. But Danny is quickly learning that among all things, he is someone who was dangerous, before he lost his memory. Even with his mind in fractures, he is still dangerous.

He’s not sure how to feel about that — he thinks he should be scared. He feels a little proud, instead.

—------

Hazel beneath our claws

While we wait for cerulean to cry

Unsettled ticks run through time

Enough for the hunt to go awry

—-----

There’s another thing he learns about himself. That he knows about since he woke up. He knows that he left someone behind. He doesn’t know who, but he knows they must have been close; he’s always looking down and finding himself surprised when the only shadow he sees is his own.

He thinks that he must have sung to them a lot; he finds himself humming familiar melodies when he’s lost in thought. Lullabies lingering at the tip of his tongue, an instinct to turn and sing them to someone beside him. He can’t remember the lyrics, but his mouth does, it tries to get him to say them when he’s not thinking. He can’t.

Danny’s found himself humming under his breath more times than he can count, trying to recall whatever it is his mind is trying to claw forward.

(“That’s a pretty song, Danny.” Jazz tells him at breakfast one day, Danny screws his mouth shut. He hadn’t realized he was humming. “What is it?”)

(Something mean and possessive rears its head on instinct, uncoiling like a snake from its ball. His shoulders hunch defensively, he bites his cheek to prevent himself from baring his teeth. He doesn’t know what song it is, but it’s not for her. “I don’t know.”)

He misses his person. Dearly. He knows, the longer he is without them, that they must have been close. Otherwise, he wouldn’t feel like he’s missing a chunk from himself. He wouldn’t be turning to someone who's not there; reaching for a hand that’s missing, birdsong on his tongue, a story to tell.

A dream haunts him one night. Warm and familiar, he’s holding onto someone smaller than him, they’re tucked into his side like a puzzle piece. He’s humming one of his songs that is always playing in the back of his mind, an unfinished tale of a harpy and a hare. Danny can’t remember their face, not all of it. He remembers green eyes, hair dark like his own, skin brown like his.

He loves them more than anything else in the world, a fact he knows down to his soul. He loves them so much it fills his heart with sunlight. Danny squeezes them tight, nuzzling into their hair; he makes them laugh. Then, he proudly boasts something. That when he takes something of their father’s, that his person — a sibling? That feels right — will be… the word fades from Danny’s mind before he can make sense of it.

His person hugs him tight, his… brother? And their mother — a woman whose face he can’t remember either, but who he loves like a limb nonetheless — appears, smiling. Her hands reach for them both, voice calling them, ‘her sons’. There’s ticking in the distance, it sounds like the fastening of chains.

Danny wakes up cold, tears streaming down his face. The details of the dream already fading from his mind like the cold pull of a corpse.

—-------

Harpy hare

Where have you buried all your children?

Tell me so I say

—-------

When school starts that Fall, Danny joins the sixth grade class, and quickly learns more things about himself. One of those things being that he’s smarter than the rest of his grade, whatever education he had before, it was better than the one he’s getting now.

Everyone knows he’s adopted right off the bat. He tells them when the teacher forces himself to introduce himself, but it’s not like they needed him to tell them for them to know; he never existed in their little world before now, and the Fentons are pale as they come. Danny is not.

He befriends Sam Manson and Tucker Foley; they ask him about the scars fading up and down his arms, they ask him about the scar carved diagonal across his face.

Danny, as politely as he can, tells them he doesn’t remember. He thought kindness would come second nature to him, his dream burned into his mind where he hugged his brother so sweetly. Apparently, his sweetness is only second nature to people he considers his own.

(It becomes even more apparent when Dash Baxter tries to bully him later that day, and Danny ruffles like an eagle threatened. His mind whispers, hissy and agitated, sinking like a shadow at his shoulder, several different ways Danny could kill him for talking to him like that, and fifteen more ways he could cripple him.)

(Danny ignores those thoughts, up until Dash Baxter tries to grab him. Then he breaks his nose on the wood of his desk. It’s easy how quickly the rest of his grade sinks him down to the status of social pariah.)

(At least Sam and Tucker still talk to him after that. When Danny goes to the principal’s office later, he wisely doesn’t mention the worse things he could’ve done than break Dash Baxter’s nose.)

—--------------

It clicks and it clatters in corners and borders

And they will never

Hear me here listen to croons and a calling

I'll tell them all the

Story, the sun, and the swallow, her sorrow

Singing me the tale of the Harpy and the Hare

—-------

More dreams come, of course they do. Each one halfway to forgotten whenever he wakes up, ticking faint in his ears. He is many different ages. He is young, shorter than a table. He is older, holding onto his little brother. He is singing in almost every single one. He is singing to his brother.

Danny can barely remember the lyrics, he’s begun leaving a journal by his bedside so that it’s the first thing he can write down when he wakes up. He’s a storyteller, he learns. He feels like a historian, trying to piece together a culture long dead and forgotten.

His most vivid dream-like memory is not a happy one, and for once he’s almost relieved he barely recalls it. He is somewhere that isn’t home, but his mother and brother are there. He is dressed in black, blades keen in his hands.

They are atop a moving train. They are fleeing something. His brother is struggling to keep up, he is small, and young. It’s beautifully sunny, they are somewhere green and lovely.

It is a fast dream.

His brother stumbles on something, and Danny, fast as a whip, snatches him by the back of his shirt and hoists him up to his feet before he can fall. “Watch your feet, habibi.” He murmurs low, a hand on his back. It’s hard to hear, there is wind in their ears.

His brother, face obscured in all but his eyes, which are green as emeralds, nods.

The dream blurs, but Danny falls behind. His foot catches on air — impossible, it should’ve been, at least. He never trips. — and he lands against the roof with a thud and a grunt. His mother and brother stop, and turn for him.

The train hits a turn before Danny can get up, and he shouldn’t have, something pulls on him, he swears, but he slips. He can’t find the purchase to pull himself up, cold fear hits him as his nails scrape against the metal.

His mother and brother’s horrified faces are the last thing he sees before he disappears off the side of the train.

(The ticking is at its loudest when he wakes up, pounding against his inner skull. He only manages to write down ‘train fall’ in his journal, before he’s flipping over to press his head into his pillow to get the pain to stop.)

—---

She can't keep them all safe

They will die and be afraid

Mother, tell me so I say

(Mother, tell me so I say)

—-------

When Danny is fourteen he is still humming songs he can’t remember, his mind still in a broken puzzle. But his room is now decorated with stars and plants in every corner. He has a guitar he keeps in the corner of his room, and he plays the lullabies in his head on the strings over and over again.

The ectoplasm in the fridge still unsettles him, still reminds him of a past he can’t recall. The knife beneath his mattress has returned to the kitchen — he doesn’t need it. He found a box in the attic last year, it had his name on it, and inside he found familiar, strange clothes, and more weapons than he thought was possible to carry on one person.

(Even without knowing that the Fentons prefer guns to blades, Danny knows, instinctively, that they were his weapons. He was — was? Is — a dangerous person. He takes the box down to his room to sort through. The weapons all fit into his callused hands almost perfectly — the grooves worn to fit his palm. They’re just a little small.)

(He tentatively takes a small blade with him to school one day, and feels much more comfortable with it sheathed beneath his shirt. He’s kept it on him ever since, like he’s reunited a lost limb to himself.)

Danny doesn’t have a name for his person, his little brother, nor does he have a name for his beloved mother. He’s haunted by dreams every few weeks, many of them repeating. He’s ingrained the words he can remember to memory, and the ones he doesn’t, he writes down in his journal. His little brother; Danny calls him a bird, he can’t figure out what kind. His little bird of some kind; when Danny takes something from their father — what, he can’t remember what — then his little brother will be a little bird.

(He doesn’t have a name for his brother, yet, but he’s calling his birdie in his head. It’s better than nothing.)

—------

Seeker, do you ever come to wonder

If what you're looking for is within where you hold

Will you leave a trail for them to follow a path

You'll soon forget

Home

—---------

When he’s fourteen, Danny dies. It does nothing to fix his fractured memories, much to his consternation. It just confirms something he already knows; that he was someone dangerous, and that he still is.

When the shock of death has worn off, Danny inspects his ghost in the metal reflection of the closest table. It’s blurry, hard to see, but shock green eyes pierce back at him, green like the portal. Lazarus, Danny’s mind whispers, and he blinks rapidly.

‘Lazarus,’ he mouths to himself. It’s familiar. Sam shows him with her phone what he looks like, joking that he looks like an assassin. Danny doesn’t think she’s that too far off.

He doesn’t tell her that. He tucks the thought away with the rest of his secrets, and fiddles with the hood gathering at his neck, attached to a cape with torn edges swinging down to his ankles. He pulls it over his shock white hair. It shadows over his face impossibly so, until all you can see are his green-green eyes peering out like a wolf hiding in the brush.

He ends up calling himself Phantom.

(Maybe now he can start putting lyrics to his lullabies; his memories may not have returned, locked away with the sound of a clock, but the dead can talk. One of them may just have answers.)

----------

Home is where we are

Home is where you are

Home is where I am

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

Dedicated to @gascansposts for being the one who introduced me to the band Yaelokre, and thus being the whole reason I was inspired to write this in the first place >:] Those lyrics at the line breaks are all from their album Hayfields.

#dpxdc #dp x dc #danny fenton is not the ghost king #dp x dc crossover #dpxdc crossover #dpdc #danyal al ghul au #amnesiac danyal al ghul au #songs in order of the album: the hartebeest / harpy hare / and the hound / neath the grove is a heart #musician danny has my heart and soul #yes this danyal IS an alternative danny from the other au. an au where things were a little better :) but still sucks #implied good mom talia al ghul #danyal is a momma's boy send tweet #dpxdc ficlet #dpxdc prompts #dp x dc au #dp x dc fanfic #danyal is sTILL five years older than damian in this au #no beta no edits we die like danny fenton #poc danny fentons #i didnt know where to end this :(( i was gonna go on but i blanked. i thought about going into his relationships with his rogues and so on.#but that felt too much like trying to just increase the word count rather than actually writing?? if that makes sense #ugh im gonna have forgotten to include things and im gonna be kicking myself later #morally ambiguous danny whoo! we love to see it #since this was just for fun it doesnt really go into it all that much other than like. it happens. and that danny realizes he's dangerous #phantom in a hazmat suit? nah phantom looking like an assassin >:].#danyal al ghul with damian and his mom: 🥰🌸✨#danyal al ghul with everyone else: 👹🔪#am i heavily implying that clockwork had smth to do with Danyal’s amnesia and appearance by the cabin? 👀 maybe #not enough danyal al ghul aus where him being an assassin actually. has some kind of affect on him

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waitineedaname · 1 year

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okay I've finished making my big spreadsheet of how mp100 characters refer to each other! some thoughts on this under the cut because it got long

the Kageyama brothers are very polite in how they refer to people. their parents must have really instilled etiquette into them bc no one else is as consistent about using polite honorifics/titles as they are. the only people Mob doesn't give an honorific/title are his brother and Dimple, and the only people Ritsu doesn't give an honorific are Dimple and Shou, who he just calls "Suzuki"

Reigen, on the other hand, is pretty inconsistent and casual with his use of honorifics. he says "Mob-kun" a couple times and "Ritsu-kun" once, but usually they're just Mob and Ritsu (or "Mob's brother" lmao). the only honorific he consistently uses is "Tome-chan"

it's infrequent, but both Reigen and Dimple refer to Mob as "my boy" at some point :') he's their boy!

Ritsu doesn't refer to the Awakening Lab kids at all until he asks their names after being kidnapped lmao the only exception is when he calls out to the older Shiratori brother after the younger one is taken away and he calls him "Shiratori-kun." considering the fact that after asking their names, he refers to both of them as Daichi-kun and Kaito-kun, I think there was absolutely a moment when everyone was freaking out about the Shiratori brothers where he was like "ohhhhh that's his name"

also he switches from "Onigawara-san" to "Onigawara-senpai" when he realizes he's friends with his brother lmao fakeass

even though Mob starts calling Teru "Hanazawa-kun" as soon as they exchange names, Teru doesn't give him the honorific until they decide to raid Claw together. I guess that's the point when he decides they're friendly enough for it? he calls Ritsu "brother-kun" as soon as he realizes they're related and never refers to him by his actual name

everyone calls Teru some variation on his nickname EXCEPT Mob and Dimple. Dimple actually only calls him "brat" and "that guy" for a while until he managed to track him down again during the alleyway incident, which I realized is because he was exorcised before learning Teru's name lskdjflkdsf from the Seventh Division arc onwards, he just calls him "Hanazawa"

I love that Dimple tries to refer to the brothers with cutesy nicknames and both of them are like "if you do that again I'm killing you all the way dead" and he's like "understood." and then refers to them by given name from then on lmao

Teru refers to Dimple as "Dimple-kun" and Tome calls him "Dimple-chan," both of which are SO funny to me because he's way older than them. rude as hell, this evil spirit deserves no respect

Shou doesn't use honorifics or titles for ANYONE. Ritsu is just Ritsu, the Ultimate 5 are all their last names, his dad is just Pops. he also exclusively refers to Mob as "Ritsu's brother" dkfjldskfj

Serizawa alternates between "Shigeo-kun" and "Kageyama-kun" with no real rhyme or reason to it. just seems to depend on his mood I guess

#mp100 #this was fun I liked making it!!#the kageyama boys are so polite #I have some Thoughts about shou being the only one ritsu doesn't give an honorific #I wonder if I can wrangle those thoughts into a coherent post #teru definitely knows ritsu's name so I think calling him brother-kun is just an affectionate thing #or he can't call them BOTH kageyama(-kun) and he doesn't want to call him by his given name #ritsu always calls him teru-san which I think is sweet bc he's the only person ritsu refers to by a nickname #everyone else is always last name #shou on the other hand. I don't think he knew mob's name for most of the manga sdlkjfkldsjf #I don't think he learns mob's name until the confession arc and even then he still calls him ritsu's brother #which is hilarious to me #mob never refers to him by name but I think it's a safe bet that he'd call him suzuki-kun #based on how mob refers to most other people his age/younger #uhhhhh what else #dimple fucking HATES that tome calls him dimple-chan #he complains about it repeatedly in the reigen spinoff sldkjfkldsjf

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silvernyxa · 4 months

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pre-orders opening soon 🐻❤️‍🔥

silvernyxa.shop

#there will also be some other things dropping but i still have to draw the art for those LOL #fall out boy #fob #folie a deux

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thenonbinarydetective · 4 months

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Things batfam stans need to leave behind in 2023:

Jason's Lazarus pit rage

Thinking Tim's parents were horribly abusive and hated him

Only caring about Stephanie in terms of her relationship to another person (ex: Tim's bestie/ex/gf or Cass' gf/bestie)

Treating Jason or Stephanie like they're stupid

Feral Demon Child Damian

Permanent sunshine boy Dick Grayson

Any "[blank] was the real violent Robin" discourse

Really just any reducing or sectioning of certain traits to certain batfam members and not allowing other characters to exhibit those same traits (ex: see sunshine Dick Grayson)

But also stealing traits from other characters and projecting them onto someone else (ex: Jason getting Dick's personality in fics. He is not the same type of big brother Dick is canonically)

Purposefully mischaracterizing characters for angst (ex: Dick sent Tim to Arkham, my beloathed. also again see Tim's parents)

Trying really hard to nuclearize the family. They are an unconventional family for many reasons, and that's why they're interesting.

"Alfred solos the batfam"

Making Duke "the normal one" and completely forgetting to give him an actual personality.

Cass using sign language because she can read body language (note: does not apply to YJ Cass who has damaged vocal chords)

Cass being used as a prop for her brothers

Tim being weak, woobified baby

Feel free to add on ~~

Don't send hate over these things because idgaf, they are harmful mischaracterizations, and many are built on total ignorance and often racism, classism, ableism, and sexism.

#I know there's 7 million other things that NEED TO DIE but honestly why am I still seeing that in 2024 #I'm so done with the constant mischaracterizations and made up au bullshit that people will argue is canon when they don't like any media #and I'm saying any because some of y'all won't even watch cartoons or play video games #and at least have the balls to admit it and not screech every time someone tells you something isn't real #or thinking that it's 'hate' and 'not letting people enjoy things' when you get basic information wrong about a character that you don't kn #and AGAIN THERE'S SO MUCH BIGOTRY THAT Y'ALL ARE BLIND TO BUT SWEAR YOU'RE BETTER THAN DC #Even some dc writers understand that portraying Damian as an uncontrolled feral child is rooted in racism #that boy is a PRINCE AND ACTS LIKE IT #I can go on forever #but yeah I'm just tired of this shit #batfam #batfamily #bat family #alfred pennyworth #nightwing #dc robin #dick grayson #jason todd #red hood #tim drake #I would add the coffee thing but that's too obvious #cassandra cain #cass cain #stephanie brown #batgirl #the spoiler #barbara gordon #oracle #duke thomas #the signal

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flaticeball · 7 months

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hey! as the first season of connor bedard gets underway i, your local indigenous hockey fan, have a request of you: please don't let this kid's sure to be marvellous and jaw-dropping rookie season make you complacent with the racism of the blackhawks as an organization. it is beyond heinous that they were able to secure the first overall pick this year for a number of reasons i'm sure we're all familiar with, but i am pleading with the hockey community not to let the racism of this org fall through the cracks.

they drafted connor bedard and handed him a jersey with a giant racist caricature on the front. their mascot is named tommy hawk. they continuously fail to curtail their fans' egregious displays of anti-indigenous racism at games.

i'm not going to ask anyone not to post about bedard. i know he's huge news and i'm bummed as all hell that i won't be able to enjoy the beginning of what is sure to be an incredible career myself. but i am asking, given that his presence on the team is likely to increase the prevalence of people making and reblogging posts about the blackhawks, that you please care, loudly and actively, about the racism of this organization and how much it hurts indigenous fans to see that go unquestioned so often.

consider mentioning it in posts. consider amplifying the voices of indigenous fans and community members about the issues of these types of sports organizations. consider reading up on the history of the person they claim to 'honour' with their hideous effigy of a logo. consider censoring the logo in your posts if you are able to (please do this if you are able to). consider tagging posts so that indigenous fans are at the very least able to blacklist that team and not have to see it.

above all, please just. don't forget about it. don't forget about us. we belong here too.

#gav gab #connor bedard #chicago blackhawks #i jsut. it makes me feel sick every time i see that thing.#this racist caricature of a native man's head on their jerseys on their ice in their locker room #a native man who had his body mutilated in death including having his head removed #it's fucking grotesque and it makes me literally sick #i was really looking forward to see what that little wizard boy could do!#and now it is wholly ruined for me #and i keep seeing people just. posting about it like this team is normal. like it's any other team #no ethical consumption under sports is true but some things ARE worse than others #and there is no justification or excuse for being a blackhawks fan in the year 2023. there just isn't.#and like..... it bums me the fuck out for bedard himself too #like he didn't choose this #he just got like. put into this situation #it sucks #he's a teenager and now he's in the middle of this whole mess he didn't create and isn't responsible for #and i can't expect him to do anything about it #but boy was i excited to see him play #and now it just..... yeah #well.

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