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jaehaeryshater · 12 hours ago

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Robb and Theon in The Kiss of Judas

🎨 art by the talented @shripscapi

This beautiful and, in a way, breathtaking (at least in my opinion) artwork has been in my mind in concept for at least a year, and has been beautifully brought to life by Liesl. I have always felt that there was an almost biblical element to Robb Stark’s arc and his betrayal, by Roose Bolton, Walder Frey, and most pointedly, Theon Greyjoy (though the latter was done with less malice, but then again, that is not a prerequisite to betrayal). Robb Stark is a young king with good intentions, wanting the best for his people, but whether from greed, a want for revenge, or a wish for belonging, he was killed. His murder in of itself was at the hands of Roose Bolton and Walder Frey’s men, but being that those men were not particularly close to Robb nor was the king fond of them, the impact of their betrayal comes mostly from the shock and gore of it all, as well as the disregard for the revered tradition of guest right. Roose Bolton and Walder Frey have a direct hand in Robb Stark’s death, but Theon Greyjoy’s betrayal of his self-proclaimed “brother” has an indirect part in it too (it is to be noted, when I say betrayal, I do not mean to imply that Theon owes loyalty to the Starks, the family that took him from his home as a boy; I am not of the opinion he does, but Theon describes his own actions as betrayal, for personal loyalty to Robb). It is a matter of debate if Theon would have been able to return to Robb without being intercepted by his father if he had chosen to try and warn his friend that the Ironborn were preparing to launch an attack instead of allying with the North. What is not up for debate is that Theon’s capture of Winterfell weakened the North and its morale, bringing into question how they should move forward. On a more personal level, Theon’s claim of having murdered Robb’s younger brothers, Bran and Rickon, was devastating to the young king. The grief was what inadvertently led Robb to sleep with and ultimately marry Jeyne Westerling. While the Freys likely would have tried to betray Robb at some point, if Robb had followed their plan to marry a Frey girl, he would have probably lived for some time, at least to ensure a Frey/Stark heir. Theon does not have full responsibility for all these acts, but his betrayal certainly weakened Robb. Robb and Theon were close as Jesus and Judas were, despite the “kings” being warned or otherwise knowing better. Judas betraying Jesus is more impactful than if it had been another other apostle, just as, in my opinion, Theon betraying Robb is more impactful than Roose and Walder doing the same. On a more general note, while Robb did not die on a literal cross, I do not find it to be a coincidence that he died at a dinner. Robb’s story likely is purposefully inspired by biblical elements, along with being informed by various other historical figures, which I will elaborate on below.

With the iconography in my commission, my intention was for the piece to contain symbols that could pass as something you could find either in a Bible from times past or a Westerosi history book. Liesl’s art is beautiful and too polished, given modern methods, to pass for something found in a medieval manuscript, but it does look like it could be a descendent of such a thing. Medieval art is too archaic for my liking so I had purposefully set out with this compromise in mind, and Liesl’s art style was the closest to my vision. The weirwood is specific to Westeros and the in-world religion of Robb, but the halo is more biblical in nature. My intention was not to portray Robb as perfect or pure-intentioned, certainly not as selfless as the Christian depiction of Jesus. The iconography is meant to be more saintly in nature. Saint is not synonymous with perfect, anyone who knows an extensive amount about saints knows that there are saints canonized that weren’t particularly good people in their lifetime. My particular inspiration was Edward the Martyr, king of England (before William’s conquest). Edward died at the age of 16 under guest right. He was killed by a group of guards, his own people, on his stepmother’s estate. His death, too, was described as Christ-like. Here is a quote from a recount of his death:

“Those magnates had agreed among themselves a wicked plot: they were possessed of so damnable an intention and so murky and diabolical a blindness, that they did not fear to lay hands on God's anointed. Armed men surrounded him on all sides… The venerable king had with him very few soldiers, since he did not suspect anyone, trusting "in the Lord and in the might of His power” — it was just as the Jews once surrounded our Lord… They were seized by a single madness, an equal insanity ... The soldiers laid hold of him: one on his right-hand side drew him towards him, as if he wished to give him a kiss; another grabbed his left side firmly and gave him the death blow.”

Who does that sound like???

I love the idea of Robb as a figure similar to Edward the Martyr. He is a boy-king, and not particularly religious or impressive in feats (though Robb, having bested Tywin thus far in the story, is significantly ahead of Edward in terms of his military). Their death is tragic and they are exceptional, not for being great men, but for being innocent children thrust into a role and then martyred. Thus their stories turn to legends and they are seen as holy or saint-like in nature. Though Robb worshipped the Old Gods, due to his maternal family’s legacy and beliefs, it is not all that far fetched he could have a cult dedicated to him or be revered by the Faith of the Seven later on in Westerosi history.

Concerning other symbolism, I will acknowledge that Robb’s youth is exaggerated here to drive home the point of him being little more than an innocent child. He has not grown his beard yet and he is dwarfed by his furs. His clothes are meant to intimidate, make him look regal and intimidating. But really, it makes him look like a kid. Theon is portrayed as an adult, five years Robb’s senior. He is not meant to be malicious and his love for Robb is not false. He still betrays him all the same, that’s the tragedy of it. Robb knows he is king, knows he should keep a distance from Theon, many have told him. But yet he is informal here, having removed his glove so Theon can hold him. Robb is not relaxed, but that is not due to a lack of affection or some sort of stiffness around Theon, but rather to create an effect of a dead boy walking, rigor-mortis. Theon’s clothes aren’t meant to have any symbolism about him. I looked at all sorts of biblical art and depictions of the Kiss of Judas to decide what colors I wanted Theon to wear. I saw a lot of reds and whites, but I didn’t like that for Theon. I saw gold as well, but we didn’t want to default to House colors as that is overdone. The result was giving Theon the most luxurious clothes possible. Black was an expensive color and velvet an expensive fabric. His garb is more expensive and showy than the King’s himself. That is because Theon is exceptionally vain and Robb is not. Theon has all sorts of jewelry and even has pearls on his boots. Who does that???? It’s so gaudy and impractical, I love it for Theon. The pearls will eventually fall off and he will have wasted a fortune, but Theon does not think about practicality like that. He is a guarded person decorating himself with bits and baubles to give himself some sort of purpose or comfort that is not there. He subconsciously wishes to trick people into thinking he is secure and has value, when he feels no sense of belonging anywhere. No wonder his father bullied him.

My endless thanks and gratitude to Liesl @shripscapi. I love your work and appreciate you. Everyone should follow her account and check out more of her art because it is beautiful. She is a joy to work with and very thorough and dedicated. She has been very flexible and patient with me in the months making this and my past commissions. I have had nothing but wonderful experiences with her, she is one of my favorite and most respected artists in this community. And thank you for anyone who has stuck here and read this, I obviously a passion for this sort of stuff. I love to ramble and this is my hyper-fixation so I’m very excited about this.

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mareastrorum · 2 days ago

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This is only half a thought so far, but maybe other people want to chime in.

I’m doing Watch Machina (currently at episode 15) and Nein Again (currently at episode 21) while I also keep up with current Critical Role content (Age of Umbra episode 4) and something that bothers me a little is Matt’s current method of narration.

In C1, Matt’s style is very informal with regard to the narration. There’s little added drama via his tone, pace, or choice of words. “Toothy maw” became a meme pretty quickly, but the point of every description was to efficiently set the scene so the players could start their RP and choose what to do. There wasn��t as much precision with his descriptions, and of course that is a talent that takes a long time to hone when you’re describing lots of different things over the course of several hours. However, the narration was far less formal and calculated than his NPC dialogue, so (in combination with voice acting) it was very easy to determine when Matt was in character or not. It wasn’t a bad thing; Matt’s very casual narration and formal dialogue leading up to the Chroma Conclave’s attack on Emon was excellent because it was so sudden, leading the players and the audience to experience the exact same shock the NPCs would have. It’s not a bad way to narrate. If anything, it made the heartfelt moments so poignant, especially at the end of the campaign. That description of snow drops would not have been nearly as impactful if Matt had narrated that way all the time.

In C2, Matt started getting more descriptive and slowed down his narration to match. As Aabria would put it, he “paints a word picture” and includes more environmental storytelling for the setting itself, not just things for the characters to expressly interact with. I think this is part of what led to the Nein interacting with the set dressing more: Matt mentioned it, so it must be important! This led to some fun hijinks as time went on, and it gave Wildemount a different feeling than Tal’dorei. I couldn’t tell you that Emon had a particular vibe to it other than it being a big city, but howdy do we know that Berleben is full of nosy, bored people in a smelly swamp, and we sure know that Zadash is a bustling city with stark class segregation while Nicodranas is a beautiful trade hub with a mixture of different cultures. I think part of that may have come from working on the source books (they have similar language for the plot hooks and location entries). However, that method of narration was mostly limited to first descriptions of a new place or events (“cutscenes” like the attack in Zadash). Within a scene, Matt was still fairly casual in his discussions with the players.

But currently in Age of Umbra, and with a good chunk of C3, Matt’s narration is far more deliberate. There is a consistently slower pace compared to earlier campaigns, usually only speeding up in combat. Part of that may be for production purposes (easier for transcriptions and closed captioning), but it also impacts the pacing of the game itself. There’s also that presence of a new character: the narrator himself has a voice, and that is now part of the story. It’s extremely noticeable when the cast gets Matt to “break character” as the narrator to only be a DM. It requires a baseline level of formality for that to happen, and Matt committed to it in nearly every scene, regardless of the context of the scene. While that doesn’t feel all that strange for Age of Umbra (it fits well with the soulsborne style of game), it does make me realize that it’s part of why C3 felt incongruous. Like, sorry about the dead horse, but I was expecting C3 to be pulpy, which very much benefits from the narration style of C1 rather than the formal narration style Matt prefers currently. Punchy, informal narration sets a player expectation of “you’re here to get something done and I’ll tell you if it works,” while the current style instead lends itself to “you’re part of my story and this is the tone.” The former is great for fast-paced roleplay and the latter is suited to unhurried storytelling—which wouldn’t feel as mismatched if C3 hadn’t been a story where the PCs needed to prevent a second calamity within the course of a few weeks.

I wouldn’t go so far as to say that this was a mistake. Matt clearly enjoys how he narrates currently, and every DM is entitled to their preference. However, I think there’s a lesson in here that varying the narration style to match the purpose of the scene and story would benefit the players and the audience.

To be fair here, Matt is not the only DM who doesn’t mix it up very often. Brennan Lee Mulligan (Dimension 20) is far closer to the C1 style of fast, informal narration with very limited, specific instances where he would slow down for drama; there is no “narrator” character in his players’ story. D20 has a far more casual tone to its seasons than CR does in its campaigns. Luis Carazo (Tales Unrolled) narrates similarly to Matt, with a focus on instilling an emotional reaction for the players to deal with, and the players collaboratively join Luis as the narrator for their own characters; it’s a back and forth where the DM and players contribute to that additional presence. Tales Unrolled is on the opposite end of the spectrum from D20, with a clear feeling that it is a storytelling experience.

Again, choosing one narration style over another isn’t necessarily a flaw. However, I think varied narration is a tool that most DMs underutilize. If used carefully, adjusting narration styles within sessions on the fly could enhance the experience of an Actual Play campaign for everyone involved. It could be used as a signal to the players for what type of scene this will be or when a scene is shifting. It could also signal to performers in a show for pacing within an episode (hijinks are over, time for some drama; time to cool down from the tension).

But, as always, it’s easier to point stuff out like this than it is to do it in practice.

#critical role #matt mercer #also #am I the only one doing all three AND d20 AND tales unrolled?#I might have a problem #PS I just realized I wrote snow caps instead of snow drops too late don’t mind me I want little candies

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literaryvein-reblogs · 5 hours ago

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Writing Notes: Descriptive Sentences

Description - what an author uses to depict a character, setting, or scene in a way that creates an image in the reader’s mind.

It’s the way that authors bring characters to life and create imaginative settings.

Well-crafted descriptive writing draws readers into the story and provides essential details to propel the action forward.

Tips for Writing Descriptive Sentences

Cut out obvious descriptions. One of the most common traps that new writers fall into is using predictable words to describe something—for instance, writing a sentence like, “The blue sky was dotted with white, fluffy clouds.” For the most part, when someone hears the word “sky,” they’ll picture it blue, and when they picture clouds, they’ll picture them “white” and “fluffy.” Adjectives like these are unnecessary and can bog down your writing. Simply cut those descriptive words out of the sentence. “The sky was dotted with clouds” conjures the exact same image and is shorter and more focused.

Use surprising words. Once your sentences are free of any obvious descriptive details, you have the space to pepper in some more interesting words. Pushing your descriptions in new and surprising directions will help your sentences be memorable for readers. For instance, if you want to describe a rainy day, the easy way to describe it would be to mention “the stormy sky”—but something a little more unique could be “the angry sky” or “the boiling sky.” Brainstorm common adjectives and other describing words and use them in unique ways to keep your writing fresh and interesting.

Remember sensory details. A common adage for good descriptive writing is “show, don’t tell”—and sensory information is a great way to make that happen. Sprinkling in specific details that appeal to readers’ five senses (sight, hearing, taste, touch, and smell) will bring your scenes to life and make them feel richer and more interesting.

Make use of figurative language. One of the most powerful literary devices that writers have is figurative language, which goes beyond literal definitions in order to describe things in a more interesting way. Comparisons like similes (using “like” or “as”) or metaphors (saying one thing is something else) can help paint instant pictures of your characters or settings; for instance, “His nose was a gnarled root growing out of his face” can pack a lot more punch than saying “His nose was twisted and misshapen.” Other types of figurative language include onomatopoeia, which uses words that sound like what they mean (e.g., “the pitter-patter of raindrops”), and hyperbole, which is a form of exaggeration (e.g., “he rang the doorbell a million times”).

Think about who is doing the describing. In most points of view, you’ll be writing from a character’s perspective—either using “I” and “me” in first-person or “they” and “them” in third-person. It may not seem obvious at first, but point of view is a descriptive element that can help you build a believable world for your story. To use POV properly, make sure that you’re thinking about your character’s perspective as you describe so that the description feels true to the way they would speak.

Be wary of over-description. To create effective descriptive writing, less is more. Try to limit yourself to one or two interesting details the first time you introduce a character or setting, and readers will fill in the rest. For instance, if you say “The cabin room was sparse except for the looming stuffed grizzly in the corner,” readers can fill in the details for themselves without you needing to describe the floorboards, the windows, the bedsheets, and what your character had for dinner last week. This will help readers remember each character or setting better than if you had an entire descriptive paragraph for each.

Read good examples of descriptive writing. If you start to feel stuck when trying to write vivid description, look up a few of your favorite books or short stories and see how other writers do it. Pay attention to what they do that you like—whether it’s only writing their description in simple sentence structure or making sure that the following sentences include strong action to counteract the description. Then, sit down and try to replicate their tactics in a simple writing activity to see where it takes you.

Source ⚜ More: Notes & References ⚜ Writing Resources PDFs

#description #writing notes #writeblr #literature #writers on tumblr #dark academia #writing reference #spilled ink #writing prompt #creative writing #writing tips #writing advice #on writing #writing inspiration #writing ideas #francisco goya #writing resources

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rodeodeparis · 2 days ago

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i’m mixed mizrahi & ashkenazi in the us myself, and i also read a lot, i have a lot of thoughts on this sentiment, putting it under a read more because it’s quite a bit

disclaimer: all of this is my personal opinion and may not be 1000% objective, and i know for a fact that not all sephardic/mizrahi/mixed jewish/jews of color-americans agree with me 👍

i’ve seen this sentiment from leftie american jews of all kinds over the past two years, and i get where it comes from, particularly due to israeli propaganda targeted at americans appropriating the language of racial justice to that end (and as a result a bunch of white jews going "jews are not white", and a circular argument about whether or not jews are white ensuing) and i am so so tired of it

for one, it's not accurate. people in europe historically didn’t see themselves entirely, collectively as “white people”. zionism was formed in the context of 19th century european nationalism, “jew” was a nation in europe at the time in the same way “french” or “german” would’ve been (and in some parts of europe still is, my sister's husband was born in russia and "jew" is listed as his race on his birth certificate). they were seeing themselves as a separate nation (with european jews in mind, but that's another can of worms) because europeans were seeing them as a separate nation. this view extended to groups like yiddishists, who were antizionist but used this to different ends. you can argue semantics about this particular point but "white people" wasn't the thing in the lexicon when they were comparing themselves to other europeans. as a result, like riki said, in the israeli context "white" isn't mutually exclusive with "jew". non-european jews were an afterthought, but they're still jews.

also, the european jewish connection to the middle east is like. not something zionists invented? it was a big part in why jewish people were discriminated against in europe, and to an extent the denial of jews having a connection to there is par for the course of european antisemitism. european antisemitism is essentially belittling jews for being both middle eastern and european, whichever is more convenient at the moment. (more on that later.)

a great book on this (and on how this impacted zionism and zionist racism) is orientalism and the jews, which you can actually read for free on archive.org. long story short is zionists (as well as some other european jewish political groups) ended up choosing "european" as the one of the two things they were assigned by following in the footsteps of other european ethnic nationalist movements, and looking at their own connection to the middle east through a euroentric/orientalist lens. edward said put it best when he said (to paraphrase) "white inside the country, and not white outside of it".

zionism is far from the only group of european jews who did something like this back then. there was the the alliance israélite universelle, which was an arm of french colonialism and set up "civilizing missions" more or less for middle eastern and balkan jews in the form of schools, which came to a head with the cremieux decree. (you can read about it in gross, racist detail here.) there's also ashkenazi american jews, who...well just read this article. i have personal experiences about this in jewish-american spaces and other mizrahi/sephardic-americans do too but i’d rather not make this all about me. and before that there were sephardic jews (predominantly western european but also in the ottoman empire) treating them the same way. even rich baghdadi jews like the sassoons, who were decidedly not european, got in on this, which reverberated back into israel in certain ways (which is talked about in orientalism and the jews).

so i would say that there is a much, much longer recent history of mostly european jewish tail-chasing about who’s more “like other white people” as the tagger put it than the other way around. in the american context, malcom x even has a little part in his autobiography about it. the hasbara thing is comparatively recent and plays on the insecurities of jewish americans and canadians as "in betweeners" so to speak in the context of the white supremacy of their home countries. people can make a big stink about how "no jews are white" for the sake of argument but everyone in my immediate family checks off"white" on the census ("middle eastern" is still under "white", after all).

so jews identifying solely as white has a bad precedent too. i personally can't really see statements like that taggers' and its exact opposite and not compare them to the more storied history of european-american jews aligning themselves to the white side of things at the expense of their syrian co-religionists, let alone the inter-jewish racism in israel. i've seen people pull out dna tests to either end. all of this is pretty ironic, considering that historically, european antisemitism has looked a lot more like this:

(pretend it just says jew, because it was like this with other jewish groups over there as well.)

it feels like both groups are trying to overcorrect a case of being hated for being "in between" by going either all the way one way, or all the way the other. ie defining themselves by the terms that they were discriminated against for not being easily definable by. and it ends up turning into a slew of either orientalism (in the not white camp) or genteel racism (in the white camp).

if you’re monoracial/ethnic it’s pretty easy to just belong to one category and not have to think about it much. in the us, an overwhelming majority of jews have ancestors who came here from eastern europe from the mid 19th century to the early 20th century, and most are also white, so i understand where the "jews" posturing comes from. when it gets annoying is when it's projected outwards, such as, of all things, an internet discourse topic from a few months ago.

(admittedly, there's more "important" things to complain about than this, but it's kind of the straw that breaks the camel's back, and i feel like once people understand this specifically, we can all make bigger strides towards the more important things.)

essentially, a bunch of people on the anglophone side of the internet were (rightfully!) criticizing the movie no other land online, and were referring to half-yemenite, half-ashkenazi director yuval avraham as a "white guy" as if that would make their points more poignant.

yeah, he "looks white" to most americans, and we can talk circles about comparative privilege in that regard all day long, but "white guy" is, from an american perspective, erasing his heritage to make a point. (and a specific heritage that there's been a long history of americans generally, and american jews specifically, erasing, not to mention one that's had an especially tough history in israel.) i'm sure i'm not the only one who's noticed this, but "white" has a few different implicit meanings in american english beyond how someone looks. one of the meanings is to do with the culture you were raised in. one means "has never been discriminated against on the basis of race and/or ethnicity (americans tend to mix these two up)".

i'm not entirely sure which one was being applied to yuval, but the implication in these seems to be that his "whiteness" is an intrinsic part of the film's problems and not like, idk, the very real material things that you can actually attribute it to, none of them in this case inherent to "whiteness". (the propaganda the israeli staff grew up with and probably internalized to different degrees, writing, funds management, representation and lack thereof, etc.) as if middle easterners can't be complicit in colonialism or be settlers or something, as if we're all innocent and dumb and in need of an american twitter user's defense, or else we're all "actually" white. genteel racism.

from experience, i can tell you that this is both a typical mixed person in america experience and a typical non-ashkenazi jew in america experience. (israeli society doesn't entirely "understand" mixed people either but that's another story.) ironically very similar to antisemitism in general. there's a lot of other things i can compare it too. if you know a little bit about queer theory, imo, what's going on here isn't too dissimilar from biphobia or the specific, weird transphobia towards trans men that self-proclaimed "trans-inclusive" feminists are fond of; essentially, "oppression and privilege are a binary and you, person who doesn't neatly fit into either one, get to be whichever one is most convenient to me at the moment". real people get pushed out of the way so a theory in someone's head can make more sense.

admittedly, a big part of this is the "jew/arab" binary that zionism created and the rest of the world adopted, so i'm not pointing fingers at the tagger here or anything. i'm not telling anyone to start checking off "other" on the census either.

i just like, wish that people like that tagger thought a little bit about what this affirmation that jews = white does for them personally? does it make them more comfortable to literally push yourself away from the middle east and associate yourself more with europe? isn't colonialism bad no matter who does it? are middle eastern jews "worse" than you for having a more recent connection to the middle east? should we just drop that connection so your anticolonialism can make more sense to you? if we're a different people, what's stopping you from excluding non-european jews from jewish things?

"white" isn't a barrier between you and other people, because "white" is ultimately made up bs. you and i aren't too different, even if we're not exactly the same. and i think the american jews who take "sides" in this argument re-reckoning with antisemitism as it is rather than making their experience in the us as a jew fully analogous to either people of color or white people full stop is one of the most effective ways to combat antisemitism *and* zionism, personally.

what made u anti zionist / helped u unlearn zionism

Unlearning is a work in progress, but basically finding out the information I was given wasn't true. I was taught the "a land without a people for a people without a land" - found out Palestinians, you know, lived here, actually. Was taught all the violence we committed was in self defense - found out we destroyed whole villages to take over the land. Was taught our military is very ethical and never violent without necessity - saw what we do to Palestinians even today (and by "today" I mean before the current escalation in Gaza, I have no idea how anyone can ignore this one now). Was taught we "made the desert bloom" - learned some about native and non-native plants, and about the colonialist nature of trying to transform a whole ecosystem to suit us instead of living with the land as it is. From "Israel vs the Palestinian territories" to learning that even the lands taken over in 48... were taken from them. From "this is our land because this is where we come from" to learning that we aren't the only people that originated in this land and we can't just override the claim of the people who lived here for generations.

None of this, like, inherently means you'll let go of zionism. I know zionists who would agree with me about many of these points. But, I suppose, for me it's a broader anti-colonialism and anti-isolationism thing, and... anti-exceptinalism?

Like, I had to unlearn the idea that antisemitism is a unique and singular kind of oppression that no oppressed group can ever relate to or have solidarity with. The idea that we're alone, we'll always be alone, we're destined to be hated and murdered in ongoing and repeated extermination attempts unless we segregate ourselves in our own state with our own military where we can double down on "kill or be killed" over and over. And because we're the only ones who are this completely rejected by the rest of humanity, anything we do to achieve that goal of safety is justified regardless of who we hurt. Or even that our unique state as victims means we can't actually cause harm in the ways that we were hurt.

Antisemitism is unique in the same way that anti-Blackness is unique and ableism is unique, they all have their own elements. That doesn't mean we can't fight together and form coalitions with other marginalized groups. Romani people are another example of how our experiences are both unique and not. They don't face antisemitism, but they were still part of The Final Solution. We're not The Ultimate Victims, we're one group among many.

All of this together, for me, meant going from "we're the only nation not allowed to have our own country, self determination," to understanding that the issue isn't the question of the right to self determination, it's the fact that we decided to exercise it at the expense of other people. Pretty sure Romani people would face the same reactions if they decided to displace another nation for the sake of their own self determination. This isn't a game of musical chairs, we can't just go "your turn in exile, get out" and expect that to be okay.

Some stateless nations live in a specific location under another country, and they can declare independence in that place without causing harm. It's unfortunate that we didn't have that. But Palestinians shouldn't pay the price.

And Jewish people should be safe everywhere, not just in the small patch of land where we're the oppressor.

Final thing is, had to read a bit about what Palestinians think of all of this. Which is complicated, no group is a monolith, and I don't think I'm qualified to break that down. But after unpacking all the "about us" things, I had to look at their goals from liberation, and now I try to do my best to stay informed and support those goals.

#was told to make this a post by riki #sorry this is so longgg i hope it makes sense

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theskywithin · 2 days ago

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New Moon in Cancer – 25 June 2025 (ALL SIGNS)

This Moon is a tide that turns inward, a hush before the first note. Cancer’s waters do not wash things away, they soften them until the hidden shape appears. From 25 June onward a new story germinates in the dark, written in the language of need, safety, and belonging. Listen: the tide is drawing its breath, preparing to climb the sand in a shape you’ve never seen. Meet it barefoot, and it will remember your name.

🛑 just a note: if you see my writing reposted on other platforms without credit, especially Twitter, please feel free to tell me. my work is deeply personal, and every metaphor carries something I lived through. Thank you for protecting my voice when I’m not in the room. also, if you want to know more about your birth chart my book link is at the bottom of the page :)

Aries Sun & Rising

There’s a hush moving through the halls of your inner home. Not the house you rent or paint but the one with ceilings made of memory and wallpaper stitched from the sound of your own heartbeat. This New Moon touches the origin point, the root cellar of your life. And it asks: What does safety mean to you now? You’re learning that the version of home you deserve is not a performance, it’s the place where you can stop bracing. Where the armor unclenches. And this new beginning may come in unexpected forms: a decision to move, a conversation that reshapes the past, a promise to mother yourself better. Let it be quiet. Let it be real.

Watch for: → Strong cravings for stillness or solitude → Family dynamics shifting, or news that invites emotional clarity → An urge to cook, nest, clean, or finally hang something on the wall

Ritual: boil cinnamon sticks in water until the steam curls toward you like a memory. Inhale deeply. Whisper: I am allowed to stay.

Taurus Sun & Rising

The voice inside your head has changed dialects lately, less polished, more personal. This New Moon enters the space between your thoughts and your truths, asking: What if you only said what you meant? There is a soft but seismic shift happening in how you speak, write, listen, and share. You’re no longer interested in filling the silence with empty syllables. You want your words to mean something. And that’s where the healing begins. In the story you choose to tell next. You may reconnect with a sibling, rediscover your love of writing, or finally put into words something you’ve carried for years. Let it come through you like ink made of saltwater.

Watch for: → A conversation that brings release → A message that feels like a tiny key → Urges to take a short trip, buy new books, or unfollow what numbs you

Ritual: write one sentence you wish someone had said to you when you were younger. Carry it in your wallet until it feels like yours.

Gemini Sun & Rising

The soil of your worth is shifting because something deeper is ready to bloom. This Moon does not care about your title, your salary, your metrics. It wants to know: what makes you feel safe in your skin? It’s time to reroute your relationship with receiving, with ownership, with enough. You may be called to begin a new financial chapter, set boundaries around what you give away for free, or rediscover pleasure without guilt. This isn’t about luxury. It’s about belonging to yourself so fully that even the way you spend money becomes a love language.

Watch for: → New income possibilities or money conversations that hold emotional weight → A craving for slower beauty: cooking, tending, touch → Letting go of old self-worth stories inherited from family or survival

Ritual: place a small coin under a glass of water overnight. In the morning, pour the water into the soil and keep the coin in your palm. Feel the exchange.

Cancer Sun & Rising

You are being rewritten by water. This New Moon isn’t outside of you. It is you. It rises through your chest like a tide that refuses to recede until you finally let it say: I am ready to begin again. You’re no longer obligated to the versions of yourself that others have memorized. There is permission here to soften where you were once sharp, to step forward without apologizing, to walk into the world as someone who knows they deserve to take up space. This isn’t reinvention. It’s reclamation. The Moon is pouring its ink into your outline and saying: draw again.

Watch for: → The desire to change your look, your name, your tone → New beginnings that are deeply personal but hard to explain → People reacting to your shift, let them. You’re not performing this time.

Ritual: stand before a mirror in the dark. Say your name out loud, then whisper a new word that belongs to this version of yo, like free, beloved, sovereign. Let the mirror listen.

Leo Sun & Rising

There’s a part of you that’s always had to shine. To hold it together. To stay composed, perform, radiate. But under this Moon, something ancient inside you wants rest, not as escape, but as medicine. This is the Moon of hidden rooms and sealed envelopes. Of memories that knock at the back door. It asks: What have you not let yourself feel because it made you less impressive? You are being invited to release, deeply and without drama. The kind of shedding that no one sees, but that changes everything. This is the beginning of a private revolution. One no one has to applaud.

Watch for: → Unexpected dreams or memories resurfacing from nowhere → Emotional exhaustion that isn’t laziness but truth → The desire to disconnect not from people, but from performance

Ritual: take a long bath or shower in the dark. Light one candle and speak to your reflection when your face re-emerges in the steam. Say: You can stop holding it all.

Virgo Sun & Rising

You are not meant to carry every soul you’ve ever loved. This Moon asks you to set down the ghosts of obligation, and look toward what’s calling you now, the future-friends, the co-dreamers, the ones who speak to your hope rather than your wounds. This is a new chapter in how you commune, not just with people but with vision. What kind of life do you believe in enough to begin building? You may be reshaping your circles, realizing you’ve outgrown some communities, or finally saying yes to a vision that used to feel too far away. You don’t have to lead the world, just find the ones whose dreams make you remember your own.

Watch for: → Sudden dissolving of old friend dynamics → New invitations to collaborate, organize, or co-dream something → Realizing that fitting in has cost you more than standing out ever could

Ritual: write down a vision you have for the world, not for yourself. Light a small flame and speak it into the fire. Let the smoke carry it into the hands of those who share it with you.

Libra Sun & Rising

You’ve been working hard to keep the surface calm but this Moon goes for the root. It slips behind the mask, into the part of you that wonders, What is all this effort for? It’s not an ending, it’s a recalibration of direction. Not just what you do, but who you are when you do it. This is the kind of new beginning that may arrive as a pang of doubt, then evolve into a wave of self-reclamation. You’re allowed to redefine what success means. You’re allowed to want more, or less, as long as it’s true. The crown doesn’t matter if it doesn’t fit your head anymore.

Watch for: → Shifts in professional reputation, goals, or power dynamics → Unexpected praise or pressure that makes you question your path → The urge to create something that aligns more with your emotional truth

Ritual: write a resignation letter to a version of success you no longer serve. Burn it. Then write a vow to the vision you want to work for now.

Scorpio Sun & Rising

You’ve been climbing a mountain. But this Moon doesn’t ask you to summit, it asks you to expand your horizon. Not with ambition, but with reverence. What if your life is not a ladder, but a landscape? This New Moon calls your attention to the philosophies, places, mentors, and stories that can stretch your worldview. You may be pulled toward something foreign, unfamiliar, a risk of hope you haven’t dared to follow before. But this is not about escape. It’s about trusting your curiosity enough to let it become a compass.

Watch for: → Travel, teaching, publishing, or spiritual questions appearing → A desire to study something obscure or meaningful → Feeling emotionally tethered to a truth you can’t yet explain

Ritual: look up at the sky and name something you believe that no one taught you. That’s your North Star. Let it guide you now.

Sagittarius Sun & Rising

You’re not scared of endings but you are scared of losing control. And this Moon? She asks you to surrender control gently, not with panic, but with trust. She wraps her hands around the part of you that bargains, holds back, or calculates your vulnerability, and she says: What if intimacy wasn’t dangerous? This is a new beginning in the realm of shared energy, deep love, invisible exchanges. You may find yourself confronting a debt, merging lives or bank accounts, grieving what cannot be saved, or diving into something that demands all of you. It’s not about danger. It’s about depth. This is the kind of transformation that leaves you more alive, not less.

Watch for: → Honest conversations about sex, trust, power, or debt → Emotional clarity in long-term entanglements → The end of something that makes space for a more real version of love

Ritual: pour water into two glasses. Label one mine, the other ours. Pour them into a third and ask: What am I choosing to share, and why?

Capricorn Sun & Rising

You’ve been building alone for so long you’ve forgotten what it feels like to be held. This Moon comes bearing partnership, not just in love, but in presence. It reminds you that intimacy is not weakness. That collaboration does not cost you your autonomy. You are being invited to re-pattern how you relate. Not by effort, but by listening. Not by sacrifice, but by self-trust. This is the beginning of a new way of being chosen, one where you don’t have to abandon yourself to belong. You can be fully met only when you fully arrive.

Watch for: → A new relationship, contract, or relational dynamic forming → Clarity about what you will and won’t compromise anymore → Encounters that mirror the version of you you’re becoming

Ritual: sit with someone who sees you clearly. Without fixing, ask: How do you experience me when I’m being real? Then say thank you and believe them.

Aquarius Sun & Rising

The body has been whispering. This Moon turns up the volume to remind you that healing isn’t an idea, it’s a rhythm. A practice. A return. This is a new beginning in how you honor the vessel that carries you. How you work, how you rest, how you recover. You may notice shifts in health, routine, daily energy. But deeper than that, you may realize how much you've been holding in your muscles, your breath, your jaw. You don't need a better system. You need a softer one.

Watch for: → Health-related revelations, subtle or physical → A calling to be more present in your daily rituals → The urge to build a life that feels livable, not just impressive

Ritual: stretch for five minutes, not to become more flexible, but to meet yourself. Then ask your body what it wants from you this month.

Pisces Sun & Rising

The dream doesn’t need to be perfect, it just needs to be yours. This New Moon kisses the corners of your creative life, your joy life, your romantic life, the parts of you that have longed to feel alive, not just useful. It’s a return to desire. Not lust but aliveness. This could be the beginning of a new romance, a new project, a new permission. You may suddenly remember how you used to express yourself before the world told you to be quiet. Don’t just follow the muse, become her.

Watch for: → Creative impulses or fertile, sensual energy blooming → The reemergence of childlike wonder or a literal child → Romance that doesn’t fix you, just mirrors you

Ritual: create something small and imperfect tonight: a song, a scribble, a spell. Let the mess be a message: joy lives here.

my book here :)

#astrology #astro community #astro observations #astro notes #birth chart #astrology tumblr #natal astrology #natal chart #natal aspects #astrology blog #new moon #astrology book

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project-sekai-facts · 6 hours ago

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Spoilers

Leoni’s wl chapters are all on sekai best right now and I wanted to inform what I understand about what they did with saki’s illness. From what I understand saki was weak and ill since she was young and during elementary leoni formed a band and at some point her illness got really bad and she had to stay in the hospital for a while. Saki was eventually released and became very worried about her health and was scared about it happening again so she wanted to get stronger. To do that Saki started working out more and during middle school joined the soft tennis club. She was able slowly over time build up strength and with the help of others looking out for her Saki got stronger and better. It is stated also that at times during middle school she did feel like she was going to faint.

I’m not sure how bad this handling is as I’m not a chronically ill person. I recognize it definitely isn’t the best route, which would’ve been leoni visiting her more often, or the worst route, which would’ve been be if they just erased Saki’s illness altogether.

i forgot saki chapter is out now so i can answer this. how they handled saki is incredibly questionable. because technically technically saki has nonspecific anime disease which means her illness works however the writers need it to. they don't say anything so they don't have to commit to anything or have any restrictions with how they write saki. so maybe tennis can cure her illness. it is true that exercise and healthy lifestyle improves immune system. however that begs the question, why did no one ever just tell saki's parents to make sure she got regular exercise and a healthy diet, in either universe.

as i said recently, based on what little we know about saki's illness, and inferring from the fact she had to be moved to a different part of the country to live in a specialist hospital, she had an immunodeficiency that was either genetic, or caused by other medical factors (eg: blood/organ transplant or chemotherapy). in these instances, you can't just magically get better by playing tennis. like obviously regular exercise would improve her physical health to a degree, but honestly with how ill she was that wasn't really possible, and it would be much less effective if saki's nonspecific anime disease is a genetic thing or caused by a different illness like cancer or an organ problem, which like pick one of the three because they make most sense for what her illness translates too.

we knew colopale kinda just used saki's illness as a plot device half the time considering the nonspecified part but yikes. it doesn't even make sense, like i said if she could just play tennis to get cured why did no doctor's tell her that in the main AU, where she ended up relapsing and returning to hospital. i feel like they just didn't know what to do with saki in a pre-main story canon divergence. it's not hard to think of something just have shiho and honami actually go to visit her and get rid of the miyajo bullies so they don't cut saki and ichika off. you don't have to get rid of her illness to make it work, it's set during second year anyway. i get she still gets fatigued easier than the average person but that's not really a good excuse. it's still incredibly poor treatment of a chronically ill character.

#why didn't they just do rwy why is wandasho the only unit to diverge from an event instead of pre/during mainstory #asks #project sekai spoilers

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syndrossi · 2 days ago

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The AU of Restoration AU where whatever Ned thinks is the twins backstory is actually true. How would Rhaella meeting and negotiating with Daemon Targaryen/Blackfyre/Who-Even-Cares go?

Hm, so I'm assuming this is the variant where we have Stepstones-era Daemon who hasn't had his twins yet, so anywhere from 30-34ish.

The main difficulty is in keeping Caraxes secret from the world, since in Restoration AU, no one has any notion of dragons being back. Not even Ned (yet)! So perhaps he is injured in battle and ends up Winterfelled near Braavos, separated from Caraxes at first. When he stumbles into Braavos, declaring himself a Targaryen, he's led by Targaryen sympathizers to the house with the red door.

Rhaella being in a position of power over him helps, I'm sure, because he looks enough like kin to stir unwanted memories of Aerys. But he's very kind to her children, who adore him, and insists on finding his "dragon." Once he's better, he invites Rhaella to accompany him to see that he speaks the truth about his dragon.

By now, I assume Rhaella has heard his stories of being Daemon Targaryen, rider of Caraxes, wielder of Dark Sister, and only his sword has lent the story any credence. But when they go outside the city, perhaps to one of the mountainous isles in the lagoon, she sees Caraxes for her own eyes.

At this point, his story is looking at least somewhat more true. He has no knowledge of current events, he knows a great deal of history, he has a dragon. And that's the important thing. He has a dragon.

It must be Rhaella who tells him that Caraxes must be kept secret from the world until they make their strike. Daemon is all ready to rain fire down on Robert Baratheon, but they need soldiers. They need the Golden Company.

Marriage is the best alliance, and Rhaella will do what she must for both her children and her family's legacy. She proposes that they marry, even though she is forty years of age now, and after a quiet ceremony + Daemon scaring up some coin by torching a roving band of raiders or something on Caraxes, they set out for the Disputed Lands to meet with the Golden Company.

After only a few moons, Rhaella finds herself pregnant once more. Dany is maybe a year old by now, and it's overwhelming to think about going through another difficult childbirth, but having Daemon's children will almost assuredly cement his loyalty to her. Surprise! It's twins.

I like to think that the two of them falling in love happens at different speeds. Daemon is taken very quickly, admiring Rhaella's spirit despite all that has happened to her, and her maternal affection for her children. It takes much longer for Rhaella, for obvious reasons. Daemon playing with her children as though they are his own, protecting them from dangers on the road, ruthlessly destroying anyone who threatens their family--not out of paranoia, like Aerys, but because their safety is the most important thing in the world to Daemon.

By the time they arrive in the Disputed Lands, the marriage is less one of paper. Rhaella probably urges Daemon to claim that he's a Blackfyre, though Dark Sister isn't the best blade to produce as evidence, but the Golden Company doesn't even care because that's a full grown dragon.

Because the Golden Company comes to know of Caraxes, rumors likely make it out into the world, only to be dismissed. The main weakness I see with this AU "mirroring" Restoration is that I don't think it would take eight years for Daemon and Rhaella to feel confident to retake the Iron Throne.

That said, I like to think they go in search of dragon eggs, finding the ones that Illyrio has in canon, and one hatches for Rhaella, Viserys, and Dany apiece. The twins' eggs are found following a lead to Volantis. Maybe Daemon wants to wait until Rhaella's dragon is full-grown (or close enough), and that's the reason they wait eight years. Two dragons is a better security policy than just one, and Viserys will be old enough then to aid in battle.

The twins going missing would actually be a kidnapping. Hard to say who's at fault. Daemon has been a part of Viserys's life long enough for him to view him as a father, and he has a dragon to curb some of his instability (a lot of which was exacerbated by having to raise Dany alone, penniless and in fear of assassins). So I don't think it would be him? Perhaps it's an actual surviving Blackfyre heir, aiming to challenge Daemon's claim somehow. Who knows!

#resonant asks #resonant 'verse restoration au #honestly this would be SO FUN to write

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ra-tutubixi · 1 day ago

Text

The story of the "rapt of Xochiketsal" is less a story and more a singular off-handed mention by Diego Muñoz Camargo, in the Historia de Tlaxcala (circa 16th century):

Dicen que fué mujer del dios Tlaloc, dios de las aguas, é que se la hurtó* Tezcatlipuca, é que la llevó á los nueve cielos é la convirtió en diosa del bien querer == It's said she was married to the god Tlaloc, god of the waters, and that Tezcatlipuca took* her, that he took her to the nine skies and turned her into the goddess of good love

I chose the word "took" here partially to better fit with the next line with the more diphprasal/hendyadic tone of the wider text and generally the Nawa literary corpus, but more importantly for the same reason I put an asterisk next to the words hurtó & my chosen translation of it: because there's a whole lot of extra detail here we should take into account!

In every other tradition outside this specific text from Tlaxkallan, Xochiketsal is described as instead having a relationship of some sort with Piltsintekwtli, who is really hard to pin down as belonging to any given domain of the "big four," and is seemingly a fellow primordial as the Historia de los mexicanos por sus pinturas (Ch. 3; ca. 16th century) mentions the creator pair made him alongside Xochiketsal back during the first Sun, though the song of the Rite of the Deer Hunt would suggest he is Kamaxtli, or at least is connected to him — we'll come back to this in a bit. Regardless, their union brings about the birth of maize's own incarnation, Sinteotl. Muñoz makes no mention about any of this, which isn't necessarily a point against his retelling, but it does serve as an interesting hint that we will come back to later.

So, what do the traditions about Xochiketsal & Piltsintekwtli even say? They all, generally, mention that their union occurs underground, and indeed that she is "taken" thereto, but with quite different language! Quote the Song of Atamalkwalistli (Sahagún, appendix to Book 2; c.a. 1577):

Otlacatqui çenteutl tamiyoanichan ni xochitlicacani, ceyxochitli [...] atl, yayavicani tlacapillachivaloya chalchimichvacan [...] Piltzintle piltzintle toçivitica timopotonia tlachco timotlalli yoanchan yoanchan, Oztomecatla yyave oztomecatla xochiquetzal quimama ontlatoa cholola == Sinteotl is born in the house of descent, where flowers spread; he is One Flower [...] in the place of water, of fog, where the children of men are made, that jade place of fish [...] Piltzintli, o prince; in yellow feathers you cover yourself, you come to the earth as the playing field is in night, in night, The merchant offers incense; Xochiketsal is carried by the merchant, who rules Cholollan

Language is, of course, essential here: the merchant "offers incense" and "carries" Xochiketsal; by juxtaposition, we would infer the incense is meant for Xochiketsal as she goes down into the underworld. The word māmā in quimama is also relevant to explore here, as it denotes someone carrying something on their back, with the usual example given being a mother carrying a toddler as she works or a load of crops, which generally suggests the use of a strap of some sort; indeed this is the same word from which tlameme is derived, the designation for the long- and short-haul porters that carried goods by foot, who indeed used straps for this purpose.

A few metaphors require some further clarification: "the ballgame," tlachtli, was the famous rubber ball sport played throughout Mesoamerica in several variant flavours. For the Nawah, it represented the movement of the stars and the passage of time — to use a tennis analogy, if a day (including its corresponding night) was a whole match, it had 4 sets and 11 games in total, but distributed unequally such that the nightly sets each held 3 games, whereas the day-sets held 2 (Kruell, 2012). Piltsintekwtli therefore descends from the sky at nighttime, which matches up with the version told by the Histoyre du Mechique (ca. 16th century) that tells of this event as happening "in a cave." The other euphemism is of a particular figure: "the merchant" mentioned here is none other than Ketsalkoatl, as is clarified a few verses above in the omitted sector (and, generally, the song is framed as his own recounting of the events), with the "ruler of Cholollan" bit referring to his patronage of the city. In any case, it is he that's taking her to Piltsintekwtli, without Teskatlipoka even coming close to her... or does he?

In truth, he does have a role to play in this situation. The ending words of the Song have an inkling as to what exactly such is:

Cochina cochina cocochi yenic maololo nicani ye çivatl nicochina. === She is sleeping, sleeping; here is the woman as she moves, as I will now sleep.

Sleep? Sleep! Specifically, this is a kind of grappling sleep that could only be inflicted by the temakpalitotikeh, a type of ritual worker that was under the joint patronage of the Yoalli & the Ehekatl — that is, Teskatlipoka & Ketsalkoatl. Their prayer, another recounting of these events, includes a further clarification of Teskatlipoka's role (López Austin, 1966):

Nomatca, nehuatl, ninoyoalitoatzin [...] Iniquac tlaxihualhuin in temixoch, iniquac in nicanato In nohueItiuh chicnauhtopa. Nitlamacazqui in nohueltiuh Xochiquetzal lnic çenca quipiaya in tlamacazque, in mochintin in quahuili in occelome in ayhehuel calaquia. lnic nictzatzili in cochiztli inic chienauhmictlan yaque [...] in oncan nic-huicaz tlalli innepantla inie oncan nic-macatiuh in moyohuallitoatzin [...] == I, night's younger brother myself, [...] Come, then, curse of sleep, when I take my sister from the nine above us. I am a devotee, my elder sister is Xochiketsal; As these priests did guard her relentlessly, their beasts, eagles, jaguars; we could not come to her. Thus, I beckon sleep, to the ninth underworld we will go [...] There she will be taken, the centre of the earth, once delivered by Night's younger brother [...]

We can thus summarise that, perhaps at Xochiketsal's own behest, her entourage was disarmed and temporarily K.O.'d by Teskatlipoka, who carried the teotl to Ketsalkoatl, who in turn then carried her to the cave where she would see Piltsintekwtli; her sleep would then pass onto the one that took her to the cave (presumably for privacy's sake).

Mind, this doesn't rule out that the two bros did this without her consent, though there's nothing to indicate that it wasn't her choice either. For clarifying whether she actually wanted to be with Piltsintekwtli, we turn again to the Song of the Rite of the Deer Hunt, framed through the eyes of none other than Sinteotl (Dehouve, 2009):

[...] yn nitlamacazqui, niycnopiltzintli, yn niceteotl, tèteo ni-ytlachihual. [...] Notâ nahui acatl milintica, cuix nè nàhahuiaz? cuix nè nihuellamatiz achtotipa tipaquiz, achtotipa tiquittaz yn eztli totonic, yn eztli àhuiac yn i-yolyn itzontecon: yn ticcuiz yn tlamacazqui chicome xochitl yn teotlalhuia; yeniyauh, ye nictemoz, ye nic-anaz Ye nictocaz yn yalhua yehuiptla yn ica choca, yn ica nentlamati? yn nohueltiuh yn xochiquetzal [...] == [...] I am the devotee, I am the orphan, I am Sinteotl, creature of the teteoh. [...] My father, 4-Reed Millintika; should I be rejoice? Should I be content? You* will rejoice first, you shall see the warm blood, the fragrant blood, its heart and its head: you shall take in the devotee of 7 Flower, he of the Land of the Teteoh; I shall stalk him, I shall catch him. I shall follow him. Yesterday, ereyesterday, for him wept my elder Xochiketsal. Yesterday, ereyesterday, for him I had been weeping [...]

The *you, here, refers to 1-Malinalli, a name for another kind of elusive teotl that might be the Earth, Tlaltekwtli, or a closer by sources but more thematically distant Pahtekatl (Fellowes, 1985), the father of pulque — though mentions of 400 individuals, nameless, do occur, so it's not totally out there; further, Sinteotl starts the prayer by smoking tobacco, so perhaps the patron of drunkenness has some domain over the plant and therefore empowers whoever partakes of it, and as such requires some share of the hunt's bounty.

Why is his son hunting him? That's due to some more mythological shenanigans from later on in the cycle, but to summarise: Mixkoatl got turned into a deer near Tollan after getting killed and improperly reconstituted from his bones, so he has to die in order to be freed and, hopefully, be reformed once more as himself. Regardless of the reason, it's clear both Xochiketsal and Sinteotl do care about the guy and want him to come back normally, which does suggest a loving relationship.

One final, rapid-fire clarification/note: Kamaxtli is the brother of Kets, Teska & Witsilopochtli (Historia de los mexicanos por sus pinturas, Ch. 1); only he & Teska are known as Teskatlipokah, Kamaxtli as Tlatlawki Teskatlipoka and Teska proper as Yayawki Teskatlipoka. Kamaxtli took on the name Mixkoatl later on alongside Teska, who apparently has a thing for sharing names with his brothers, as Teska & Wits are both known at times as Yaotl... Anyway, Mixkoatl at some point took on the name Xipe Totek, though AFAIK it's not precisely known when this happened in his mythos; thematically, if he is indeed the same as Piltsintekwtli, then it makes sense that after literally making corn, with its shedding leaves and husk, he too became all skin-shedding (like a reptile!), or perhaps it was after the deer debacle, shedding his deer skin for a human one. I don't know if anyone knows concretely...

Alright, with that out of the way, a simple bygone conclusion: Muñoz probably misinterpreted the part about helping Xochiketsal escape into him assaulting her, and to be fair to the guy he wasn't necessarily raised with all this Deep Lore close at hand, so his conclusions may at times be a bit wonky — things about Tollan or the P'urhépecha, for example, he tends to get wrong, but for most other thing's he's pretty solid. We should note, too, that his style is often reflective of the local tradition: surprise-surprise, the Nawah were a linguistic group, which meant that culturally a lot of stuff varied between subgroups. Tlaxkallan, close as it was to Lake Texcoco, appears to have had a fairly different tradition of the Previous Suns story that's congruent within a few degrees with retellings from Wexotsinko & generally Akolwakan, but not with Tenochtitlan, though the middle two do resemble the latter one as well. We could interpret this as meaning that, perhaps in the Tlaxkalteka version of events, Tlalok was the one who had captured Xochiketsal, or perhaps that she had fallen out of love with him and kept her captive. I do not believe that we have at present enough sources to get so granular a conclusion, but perhaps someone can try their hand at it and succeed.

Sources under the cut.

Bibliography:

Diego Muñoz Camargo (ca. 16th century). Pedazo de Historia. Edited by Alfredo Chavero (1892) under the name Historia de Tlaxcala [in Spanish]. Available online at https://www.cervantesvirtual.com/obra-visor/historia-de-tlaxcala--0/html/1b8b1fa4-b981-4eff-8e8e-29bba72dbdc8.html.

Anonymous (ca. 16th century). Historia de los mexicanos por sus pinturas. Edited by Joaquín García Icazbalceta (1882), in "Anales del Museo Nacional de México" [first run, 1877-1903], num. 2, vol. II. Available online at https://revistas.inah.gob.mx/index.php/anales/article/download/6489/7330.

Bernardino de Sahagún, Antonio Valeriano, Alonso Vegerano, Martín Jacobita, Pedro de San Buenaventura, Diego de Grado, Bonifacio Maximiliano, Mateo Severino et al (ca. 1577). La Historia General de las Cosas de Nueva España. Paleography & translation by Arthur James Outram Anderson & Charles E. Dibble (1953-1982); compiled and edited by Kim N. Richter, Alicia Maria Houtrouw, Kevin Terraciano, Jeanette Favrot Peterson, Diana Magaloni, and Lisa Sousa (2003). Available online at https://florentinecodex.getty.edu/. Getty Research Institute.

Gabriel Kenrick Kruell (2012). Las horas en la vida cotidiana de los antiguos nahuas. "Revista de Estudios Mesoamericanos," year 7, num. 13. Available online at https://revistas-filologicas.unam.mx/estudios-mesoamericanos/index.php/em/article/download/82/82.

Anonymous (ca. 16th century). Histoyre du Mechique, as cited in Michel Graulich (2001), Atamalcualiztli, fiesta azteca del nacimiento de Cinteotl-Venus. "Estudios de Cultura Nahuatl," num. 32.

Alfredo López Austin (1966). Los Temacpalitotique: brujos, profanadores, ladrones y violadores. "Estudios de Cultura Nahuatl," num. 6. Available online at https://ru.historicas.unam.mx/bitstream/handle/20.500.12525/2305/78571-Texto%20del%20trabajo-231653-1-10-20221115.pdf.

Danièle Dehouve (2009). Un ritual de cacería. El conjuro para cazar venados de Ruiz de Alarcón. "Estudios de Cultura Nahuatl," num. 40. Available online at https://revistas.unam.mx/index.php/ecn/article/download/17827/17007.

William H. Fellowes (1985). Los Tratados de Hernando Ruiz de Alarcón. A commentary upon el conjuro para cazar venados. "Tlalocan", vol. 10. Available online at https://revistas-filologicas.unam.mx/tlalocan/index.php/tl/article/download/116/116.

Extra comments: I didn't take the original translations in toto, but combed through them then and now and refit them a bit as I saw necessary; these are mostly contained to the section praising Piltsintekwtli to make them make a bit more sense to english-speaking audiences, though also some grammatical quirks I perveived to be mistranslated by the authors (word order and agent/subject/object funnies), and some words I thought mismatched (notably the title noyoalitoatzin, which i found more likely to contain the word towatl rather than whatever my source's author translated as "helps themself") — I am not a native speaker of Nawatl, so I cannot guarantee they are infallible, but I do believe they're closer in meaning to the original than the translations included in the sources listed. These modifications play a non-neglegible role in my interpretation of the events' nexus, specifically regarding the parts wherein Xochiketsal is carried to the underworld, as well as Teska's speech and (what I cast here as non-personal) motivation, though I will note the interpretation came after my changes. Thank you UOregon's Online Nahuatl Dictionary for providing a vehicle for my hubris lmao.

Meme comment: This has been our contractual Sporadic Teskatlipoka Rehabilitation Post. The Magnum Catboy has been wronged for too long!

Xochiquetzal the god of love, patron of mothers, and Tezcatlipoca the god of darkness, chaos, and the gruesomeness of war.

this painting is based on the mythology of Tezcatlipoca kidnapping Xochiquetzal, and making her his wife. Yikes.

I took a lot of inspiration from woodland native art

#historiography #postclassic period #mesoamerica #also i took some of this from a reddit comment i made like half a year ago on this topic #that was more focused on the (non-)event's relationship to the Previous (/Five/Four/Three) Suns tale

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endivinity · 3 days ago

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WOUGH okay so the premise all started because of the way I play FO4 on survival which is about as long and arduous as this post. it's ALL in settlement building and most of my mods reflect this. I play that shit like minecraft. I'll chuck some screenshots at the end

the more you think about it, the less plausible it is for a soldier or a lawyer respectively to have ANY idea about the fine tuning of crafting a fusion generator or a water purifier, let alone know how to construct a pre-broken window pane. None of the wood is useable - there's no amount of fantasy that can make me believe a whole bed can be constructed out of two pencils and a pack of cigarettes. Realistically - the resources need to come from somewhere. I've also read critiques about how the commonwealth hasn't progressed for two centuries (which, part of this is because of how Bethesda handles the Fallout franchise vs the established societies in 1 and 2. for the record i LOATHED 3 and am very firmly a new vegas bitch). They're still living in Diamond City surrounded by piles of trash and the rest of the NPC settlements are canonically wiped out or basically considered the dregs (Goodneighbor, the Children of Atom, charitably the Atom Cats; Quincy and University Point, etc). They live off scavenging for trash and components that are somehow still lying around untouched. Most of this is because the game wants you to use this cool mechanic they've introduced and to feel like you're rebuilding the wasteland with your bare hands, and you get your pick of a huge scope of lands to build on, and the appearance of actual civilisation suffers for it. Nobody lives there. Realistically, you're going to build up one or two really good settlements and the rest are barebones or empty.

Jake (probably has a longer name. it's never mentioned) is a civil engineer who has combat training and survival know-how for funsies and by the cusp of the great war her department had enough downsizing that she was taking on the work of coworkers who had been "let go" (executed for thought crimes), so she knows some stuff about blueprinting things other than major city infrastructure, at least enough to delegate or make suggestions. She also stirred the pot and got higher-ups very angry at her and was punitively assigned to marriage and domesticity in Sanctuary Hills. Most importantly, she's not related to the family that have the kid. Nate gets shot and Nora suffocates in cryo.

She enters a world that perplexes her specifically because nothing has progressed for two hundred years, but through very very careful investigation she finds out that something or someone is actively interfering with any attempts to settle and develop. There's an intensive spying network going on and she has to figure out what's safe, who's safe, how the raider groups are able to be raiding year-round without dying of starvation because they're certainly not farming, how to build and manage and educate her new settlements without tripping the local spy network, how to set up trade convoys for lumber and concrete without tripping the local spy network OR instigating the raider gangs that systematically wiped out the convoys in the first place, and how to source parts for this goddamn water purifier schematic while not dying to super-radstorms or a really big wild hog. She customarily fights with a knife (Throatslicer); she's proficient at sniping and occasionally uses a plasma sniper or a gauss rifle.

Deacon is her story companion because of the 'friend' RR sign above the vault. Guy's been spying from the get-go. But because Jake's super paranoid and realistically, he has no way of knowing who you are because you aren't stupid and bald and wearing a pair of signature sunglasses, he loses her the moment she ditches the vault suit at the Abernathys'; half of his part of the story is trying to find out what happened to her, why the institute was involved in the vault at all (and increasingly wild theories about how she's a synth plant), and who this weirdass woman is who's suddenly taking over the trade routes, and talk of new settlements that's kept so hush-hush he can't even crack the secrets with his super believable caravan hand outfit.

Eventually Jake realizes she's in way over her head trying to manage settlements and hunts down the Railroad to ask for help, which... they're very downsized. They're basically a skeleton crew. I have no idea how they suddenly have all those heavies at the battle of bunker hill or the castle or whatever the fuck. So they can't and/or won't help her, and it comes down to Deacon to make an executive decision over what he thinks is going to be longterm better for the wasteland and the synth populations, and when weighing up the options between this cool lady who never shows her face and creeps around spiderman-style to sever a gunner's spinal cord and wants to crack the Institute wide open, or being trapped in a crypt with Carrington and successfully exfiltrating one synth every three months, the decision is obvious

and since you made it this far here's some shots of builds I've worked on. My main base at Egret Tours; Sanctuary Hills after I removed all the shitass housing for funsies; Murkwater Construction with incredibly poor navmeshing; my other main at Dalton Farm. yes my save file hates me

#fallout 4 #fallout #there's a black market for books and that's actually how Deacon notices the Weirdass Woman in the first place #its like... how they attempted to abduct tinker tom bc he's incredibly smart? and he saw the crows before they teleported in to grab him?#some people have active and intensive interests in science + development but the moment they put it to use where it can be seen? bye bye #that happens to such an extent here and it's to keep the commonwealth from developing. it doesnt entirely work bc humans are SO tenacious #institute be like: ummmm... we want this area populated ONLY with our idea of humanity and we will use mutants and raiders to kill you off #meanwhile jake's out here like I Can't Hear You Over The Sound Of Gauss Explosions #i don't know if the BoS is even a thing but probably not? arcjet gets dealt with and danse just goes home none the wiser #the minutemen don't really exist either but preston gets to settle down with his survivors bc he deserves the world okay

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eviemonroeer · 2 days ago

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The Monroe Effect: Chapter 18

Set in between Seasons 5 and 6 of ER. It's original material y'all!

Warnings: varying pregnancy symptoms, Carter's crappy parents (mainly his mom)

WC: 2.4 k

ER story belongs to original creators, just adding on my own original charter.

Taglist: @pleasecallmeunhinged, @rainmg, @arigoldsblog, @queenslandlover-93, @hagarsays, @antisocialfiore, and @snowflames-world

Main Story: prev | next

Snapshots: prev | next

The next couple of weeks were a blur. I finally had my twelve-week appointment where I was cleared to return to nursing duties with the promise I would take it slow at first. That was something Carter took very seriously. He made sure I stayed off of big traumas and basically snagged me for every one of his patients, so he knew how I was doing at all times. It was a little suffocating, so we had to have a discussion about it. As twelve weeks turned into thirteen, he gave in to letting me help with cases Mark or Kerry were on, which was a welcome break. We had gone out a couple more times as we were able to manage, mainly dinner or a movie, whichever fit. But it was nice to be separate some of the time too.

The baby was doing very well considering our start. As I reached fourteen weeks, I started to round out a little more. It wasn’t noticeable through my scrubs just yet, but in just the right shirt or dress, you could tell something was there. My morning sickness was still coming and going, but way less frequently than before. Mainly I was just tired. Growing a human on top of working ER shifts was no joke. Carol and I liked to commiserate on that daily. I had also called my aunt and finally told her I was expecting. She was excited for me and hoped everything would go well, and promised to find the time to visit once the baby was born. Just the reaction I expected her to have; nothing angry, but nothing over the top. However, I was not prepared for the next family members I would have to face.

Carter had come over for dinner. I had actually cooked for a change and was excited to finally watch Speed with him for the first time. However, while I was plating the meal and serving, I could tell something was wrong. He was fidgety and quiet; two things Carter typically wasn’t unless he was hiding something. He was even pushing his food around with his fork when he typically dug right in at the end of a long day.

“What’s wrong?” I bluntly asked, taking a bite.

Carter looked up, opening his mouth to lie most likely. But I raised an eyebrow and his lips shut. He closed his eyes, sighed, and then looked back at me. “My parents are coming to town, and they want to have dinner.” He paused. “With both of us.”

“Oh.” I said, my eyebrows shooting up a little. “You told them about me?”

“Not in specifics. Dad asked if I was seeing anyone, and I mentioned you.”

“Mentioned me. Well, uh, did you mention this?” I gestured down to my belly.

“I did not.” He admitted. “I really wasn’t ready to have that conversation with them.”

“You know you’re going to have to at some point. This baby is going to come faster than we want.”

“I just want them to meet you first. Get a chance to know you before we drop the bomb on them.”

“Oh yeah? And when is that going to happen?”

“Friday night.”

I coughed, choking on the bite I had just taken. I took a drink and cleared my throat. “Excuse me?”

“My parents are going to be in town this weekend. I understand if you don’t want to come, but it is the first time I’m seeing them in person in literal years. I could really use someone to bounce off of.”

I sighed and looked at that sad puppy dog face. There was no way I was going to be able to say no to it. “Uh, okay. Yes, I will meet your parents this weekend.”

Carter leaned forward and kissed me. “Thank you.” He pulled back. “There’s just a couple of things you’re going to need to know.”

I pulled at my dress for the millionth time, turning and examining myself from every angle. It was a simple black midi dress with an asymmetrical hem and for the most part it was hiding my slight baby bump pretty well. However, I was still scared Carter’s parents were going to be able to tell I was pregnant the moment they saw me.

“You look beautiful.”

I turned to look at Carter, who was leaning in the doorway. He can gone with a dark blue button up, dress pants, and some nice shoes. Why did he always have to look so effortlessly good all the time? It wasn’t fair that I had to hem and haw over every little detail. That I had to try on a million things and still not find the right one.

“I don’t feel beautiful.” I groaned and turned back to my mirror. “I feel huge. Your parents are going to know the minute they see me.”

Carter shook his head and walked over to me, wrapping his arms around me so he was holding my bump. “You look beautiful. It’s going to be okay.” He kissed my neck. “Let’s get going. We don’t want to be late.” He walked over to the bed, handing me my shawl and clutch. “You’re gonna be great.” He kissed my hands and led me out the door.

Carter put a hand on my lower back, walking beside me as we followed the waiter to the table. The restaurant was nice, had a valet and everything. Everyone was dressed really well, and I suddenly felt too casual. As we got into the heart of the restaurant, we were led straight to a table where two people who were undoubtedly Carter’s parents sat. They both stood as we walked up.

The man was literally an older version of Carter with grey hair. They were both the same height from what I could tell with a relatively same build. It was nice to see the future didn’t look too bad and now I knew where he got the nose from. The woman though I could tell was like stone and didn’t seem like she would take to kindly to funny business. Her dark hair was pulled back in a low bun, her lips fixed in a harsh line.

I gulped. What the fuck had I gotten myself into?

“John.” The man said, coming over to shake Carter’s hand.

“Dad.” Carter responded, extending the gesture. “Hi mom.” He walked over to the woman and kissed her cheek. “Mom, Dad, this is Genevieve. Evie, this is Jack and Eleanor Carter, my parents.”

“Nice to meet you.” I said, trying to put on a sincere smile despite my nerves. I held out my hand to his dad, who kissed it and his mom who shook it. When we all finally sat, Carter pulled out my chair. “Thank you.” I whispered and Carter smiled at me before taking his own seat. A waiter came around and started pouring wine.

“We went ahead and ordered drinks.” Eleanor said, taking a sip. “It’s a vintage red. Very good.”

“Thanks mom.” Carter said, his eyes darting to me. I smiled again but reached for the water glass in front of me.

“So, John, how are things going for you at work?” Jack asked, reading over the menu.

Thus began the small talk portion of the evening. Carter mainly led the way, talking about work and giving his parents updates on his life. I would describe everything as pleasant as we ordered our meal and fell into casual conversation. However, I could feel Mrs. Carter’s eyes on me as she took note of everything I did. And eventually, I was put on trial at the table.

“Where are you from Genevieve?” Eleanor asked, completely ignoring the current conversation to start this new one.

“Uh, Ohio. I moved here after I finished school.”

“Oh, what’s your degree in?” Jack asked, a little more engaged and curious then Eleanor.

“I have a Bachelor of Science in Nursing. I’m an RN and I also have EMS certification.”

“An RN? So, you must work with John?” The question was back to Eleanor.

“Yes ma’am. We both started at County at the same time.”

“For his residency?”

“No, when he was a third-year medical student.”

“How old are you?”

“I’m 25. I turn 26 in September.”

“Oh, you’re younger.” She said with a note of disdain as she took a sip of wine, something I was extremely jealous of. If I weren’t pregnant, I’d be on my second or third glass by now. Carter grabbed my hand underneath the table and gave it a squeeze as the waiter returned with our meal. I stomach sank a little as I grabbed my knife and fork.

“So, Genevieve, does medicine run in the family for you?” Jack asked as he began cutting his steak. A bit of blood pooled out as he did so, and I felt my stomach flip. “John is the only one of us who went into the field, much to our disapproval.”

“Uh, no. My mom, Diane, was a seamstress and had her own shop. She did everything from baptism dresses to wedding dresses.”

“What does she do now?”

I bit my lip and forced a smile. “Uh, she actually passed away. She’s been gone almost ten years.”

“I’m very sorry to hear that.”

“What about your father?” Eleanor asked, without the slightest hint of sympathy.

“Mom.” Carter pleaded. “Maybe let’s cool it on the interrogation.

“I’m just trying to get to know Genevieve. So, dear, what does your father do?”

I held my tongue the best I could. “I actually don’t know. I haven’t seen him since I was two.”

“So, dad how were the Hamptons this year?” Carter quickly asked, trying desperately to change the subject.

“There were some storms, so we decided to go to Martha’s Vineyard instead.” Thankfully Jack was also trying to relieve the tension as best he could. I tried to focus back on my meal, but the minute I cut into it, my stomach churned again. ‘Please don’t do this now baby’, I directed towards my stomach. I was already having a hard enough time.

“Genevieve, are you feeling alright?” Eleanor asked, raising an eyebrow. I looked up to meet her cold stare. “You’ve barely touched your food and you haven’t had any wine. Or is it not to your taste?”

“Mom.” Carter hissed, giving her a warning.

“No, it’s great Mrs. Carter. I’m just not very hungry.” I looked down at my dish again and felt the wave of nausea roll over me again. Any other time I would have devoured the pesto covered meal, but right now the Carter spawn was not having it. All they wanted was Doc Magoo’s pancakes. Of course, tonight had to be the reoccurrence of my morning sickness. I grabbed my water glass again, swallowing slowly to keep my stomach at bay.

“We can order something else if you’d prefer.” Jack offered, taking another bite of his medium rare steak, which again, wasn’t helping my stomach.

“It’s alright. Thank you.”

“John, is there something you need to tell us?” I turned back to Eleanor, who was studying me heavily, the same way she had all night. I swallowed again and smoothed out my dress, trying to suck in my stomach. She knew, she had too. She was just waiting for someone to say it out loud.

Carter sighed and closed his eyes before speaking. “Uh, yes.” He wiped his mouth with his napkin before grabbing my hand and putting it together on top of the table. “Mom, Dad. Evie is pregnant. About four months along.” Jack coughed before swallowing hard.

“Is it your baby?”

“Mom! What the hell?”

“Eleanor!”

“What? Women try this kind of thing all the time, especially with your cousins. Why would it be any different this time around?”

“Evie’s not like that.”

“Every woman is like that if they want money bad enough. John, this phase of yours might be fun now but you need think about the repercussions.

“A phase? Repercussions? What the hell are you talking about? Evie is my girlfriend, and we are having a baby together.”

“She’s not like us John. Who’s to say she’ll even be around in a year or two? And then what about the money you’ll have to pay her.”

“Excuse me ma’am, but I don’t need your money.” I said and all eyes snapped to me. I took a deep breath and tried to keep my voice steady and calm. I had sat their paralyzed in fear for to long. “As I mentioned, I have a job. One I love, might I add. I have my own place, which I pay every bill for. I like my life. I don’t care about or need any of your money. Just your son. Excuse me.”

I threw my napkin down on the table and got up, bag and shawl in hand as I headed back towards the door. How the hell could she think that what she said was justified? She had no idea who I was. She barely spoke to me all evening, just coldly stared and judged. She never even gave me a chance. I went outside with the purpose of catching a cab to get as far away from this place as soon as possible.

“Evie, wait!” I didn’t turn, but I could hear and feel Carter run up beside me. “Hey, look at me.” I refused. “Please look at me.” He gently turned me to face him, and I tried to hide the tears pooling in my eyes. He grabbed my chin and lifted my head up. “Do not listen to a thing my mother said in there. I have never, nor would ever think you got pregnant for my family’s money. She was out of line, and I am so sorry you had to go through that.”

“I knew she wasn’t going to like me.” I choked out. “From the minute I sat down I knew she looked at me like I wasn’t enough.”

“Evie....” Carter grabbed me and brought me to his chest, holding me close and tightly. I had known Carter too long to think he would ever agree with his mother. But it still sucked that one of the only grandparents my kids would ever have, thought I was no better than the dirt under her shoes. “What can I do to make this better?”

I sniffled and looked up at him. “Can we go get pancakes, please?”

Carter smiled and wiped the tears from my eyes. “We can have anything you want.”

“Right answer.” Carter chuckled and wrapped me in his arms tightly. He kissed the top of my forehead as the valet pulled back up with his car. We hoped inside and headed for Doc Magoo’s where I stuffed myself with all the breakfast food I wanted, worlds away from that horrible dinner table.

#er #john carter #john carter er #noah wyle #original character #dr john carter #john carter x female character #john truman carter #john truman carter iii #john carter x reader #er nbc #er 1994 #er tv show

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colonelkaboom · 13 hours ago

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A prince, a knight & a poet

✦ Chapter 3 - Goldilocks ✦

You and Xavier talk like you've known each other forever. Being around him is so easy and effortless. Then Caleb shows up, and you are an involuntary witness to his and Xavier’s first encounter. Caleb forcefully pulls you out of your fantasy, informing you of how inappropriate your new boss is behaving. His outburst highlights the importance of finally having a talk about boundaries.

Chapter 1 ll Chapter 2 ll Chapter 3 ll Chapter 4 ll Chapter 5

✦ Xavier x Caleb x Reader ✦ Word count: 2.8 k ✦ Modern AU setting ✦ Slow burn, friends to lovers, jealousy (duh), more to come

Xavier puzzles you. Not because of anything he says or does, but because it feels like you’ve known each other for years, when in reality it’s been about six hours. You’d rarely experienced such an instant connection, certainly not as an adult. But the feeling reminded you of how you’d make friends as a child, one look was enough to declare instant friendship.

You keep talking about whatever comes to mind. It started off with favorite books and authors, but quickly evolved into whatever one of you associated with the previous topic.

He explained how he ended up in your little corner of the world after fleeing the big city and running away from the unwanted responsibilities his father had put on him. Xavier had been fed with a silver spoon his entire life and hated it from the moment he realized he lived a different life than most others. Hated it even more when his father would frequently make cruel jokes at the expense of those less fortunate than himself.

Xavier chuckled and sighed at the sound of his life story being one big clichè. He had gotten his business degree, at his fathers behest, and although it wasn’t being used as good ol’ dad had intended, Xavier was thankful to still be able to use the knowledge he had obtained through his vigorous studies.

Throughout your various conversations you somehow managed to stay productive and collaborate on getting the store ready to open in a few weeks. You thought the place looked pretty damn ready but Xavier was stressed. It was one thing to get the Good Knight Bookstore physically ready but paperwork, permits, WiFi, all the behind the scenes stuff no one would notice was what occupied his mind. Until you showed up.

The egg tarts he bought were a delicious sweet treat. He offered you a sip of his coffee and brought out a paper cup to pour some into. He spilled some on the counter which turned into the perfect opportunity to show you the supply closet.

Your favorite part of the store was the little reading nook set up at the back. It was quite far away from the windows and was therefore able to take advantage of the warm dimmed lights Xavier had chosen. You took a seat on the comfiest looking chair, just to try it out, when you noticed a strategically positioned mirror on the wall ahead allowing you a clear line of sight to the front door.

«That was very intentional. Feel free to take advantage of it.» He had smiled at you when you pointed it out.

Apart from the little issue of your rapidly growing affection toward him, your boss, this seemed like it’d be your perfect place of employment.

You were standing with Xavier at the counter joking and laughing whilst he taught you how to use the register when your phone started buzzing in your pocket. Caleb.

«Hey, pips! Are you home? I’m on my way back. You ready to get yourself a new bed?»

«I’m not home, I’m in town. Actually, I’m at work.» You turned to Xavier only to realize he’d moved closer since you answered the call. Or were you just imagining that?

«Work, huh? Why am I not surprised you managed that so quickly. Where is this job of yours then, I can come pick you up if you walked there?»

«It’s the new bookstore next to the Mythicafé, but you don’t have to pick me up, I can walk.»

«Nah, I’m literally right around the corner. I’ll be there in a sec.»

Why did it make you nervous to know he was coming here? Would he come inside? It felt like a strange point in time where your past and your future would somehow exist at the same time.

«Was that your roommate?» Xavier questioned, although you were fairly certain he was standing close enough to have heard the entire conversation.

«Yeah, he’s coming to pick me up. We need to do some furniture shopping. I don’t have a bed.»

«Oh, so you shared his bed last night?»

«…Yeah - » You replied whilst gathering up your things on the counter. It took you a second to realize what your answer had implied. « - No! We didn’t share a bed, I slept in his bed but he took the couch.» You cursed yourself for getting so flustered.

Xavier’s close proximity ignited something inside you causing your cheeks to flame.

«I just didn’t want to assume anything.» It didn’t take long before his cheeks matched yours, even his ears were tinted a cute shade of pink.

«I’m very single.» You blurted out as your mind screamed at you to shut the hell up.

You couldn’t look at him anymore so you let your head fall and your eyes close, wishing you were anywhere but here.

«O-ok, that’s g-good, so am I.» Xavier stuttered whilst he debated placing his hand on your back in an attempt to calm you, but he feared it would be too much.

Instead he opted for resting his long fingers over your clenched fist on the counter. You’d already shook hands when you introduced yourselves so this felt less intimidating.

You opened your eyes but kept your head low, unable to tear your eyes away from your hands.

«Are you breathing?» Xavier’s voice seemed even softer than before as it washed over you making your whole body soft.

«No, I think I’ve forgotten h-how.» A shaky laugh accompanies your words but you finally dare look up at him again.

«Sorry. Perhaps we could relearn the skill together, cause I seem to have forgotten how to breathe as well.» This calms you down. Whatever spell was cast on you when you entered the bookstore must have affected him in some way too.

His fingers start to curl their way into your fist and you grant him entrance. The glow of the afternoon flows through the window behind him and settles into something reminiscent of a halo.

Then, the light suddenly shifts and breaks the illusion.

«Oh, am I interrupting something?» Caleb’s voice eliminates what remained of yours and Xavier’s shared daydream. The tone of his voice makes you shiver.

Xavier turns his body toward the intruder, but lets his hand remain in yours creating a barrier between you and Caleb.

«Don’t stop on my account, I’m just gonna browse the merchandise while I wait. You two carry on.» There was an attempt at a playful tease to his voice, but it didn’t convince anyone. He seemed frustrated.

«The early learning books are on the bottom shelf to your left. Let me know if you need help finding anything.» You’re shocked by Xavier’s derogatory remark and stare at him in disbelief. Had you misjudged him after all, or was it just the obvious unpleasantness of Caleb’s voice and comments that evoked something in him.

Caleb shakes his head and turns away. You can tell he’s holding back. The second Caleb’s eyes are off you, Xavier leans down and whispers an apology that only you can hear. Then he releases your hand and stares at it shamefully. He was clearly disappointed with the impression he just made. He takes a step back, but doesn’t leave your side.

«You done yet? We’ve better get going if we’re gonna make it to the store before it closes. Unless you want another night in my bed, which is fine of course.» He places both palms on the counter opposite of where you, and Xavier a few steps behind, are standing. A smug grin covers his face as he makes eye contact with the man behind you.

«I’m ready. Let’s go.» You grab your coat and button it as you both move toward the door, ready to end this dreadful conversation.

«Do you need me to come in tomorrow, Xavier?»

«No, you don’t have to. Tomorrow is Saturday, surely there are plenty of other things you’d like to do.»

«I don’t think I have any plans, so I can come in on short notice if you need any help.» Caleb coughs awkwardly behind you. What is up with him?

«Well, I’ll call if anything comes up.» Xavier gives you a smile and a reassuring nod before he’s left alone to watch Caleb nudge you out the door.

He opens the car door for you and takes a bow whilst you get seated. What did you just witness?

«Do you want to tell me what that was all about?» You sternly question as he buckles up in the driverseat.

«Funny, I was just going to ask you the same thing.» He glances at you disapprovingly before returning his attention to the car and the road before you.

You don’t answer. You don’t want to, and you shouldn’t have to. He has no right to your personal life, he’s just your roommate.

«That was inappropriate.» You whisper, unable to remain silent any longer.

«I was inappropriate? What about him? Isn’t he the guy who owns the place? That makes him your boss!»

«You know him?»

«I’ve seen him around the past few months, seen him fixing up the place. Heard people talkin’ about the new guy being around our age.»

«So you don’t know him.»

«I know enough to know that a boss shouldn’t behave like that with an employee. And I know that you know it too.» He pauses «What were you thinking? You’ve known the guy for a day!»

«I don’t know! It just felt… right…» Your voice loses much of its force with each word it utters.

You can hear Caleb mumbling, repeating your words to himself over and over.

«It’s none of your business, Caleb.» You keep your voice calm but serious and cross your arms over your chest to further emphasize your point.

«Sorry, I know it’s not…» He sighs as his hands soften around the steering wheel.

He pulls into the parking lot of the furniture store and switches off the engine. You’re ready to get out when he grabs your arm before it can reach the handle telling you to wait.

«I sometimes forget that you’re older now. I forget that five years have passed and you’ve become an adult. Honestly I’ve at times forgotten that I’m an adult now too, ever since I saw you yesterday. It’s like I’ve been transported back to the body I was in when I last saw you.» He knew he had to be careful when choosing his words. Careful not to spill any of the secrets his teenage body held onto so tightly and the ones that still lingered even now.

«I know you’re not fragile, you never have been. But I’ve always felt a need to protect you, make sure you’re treated alright.»

You knew what he meant. You had also felt the struggle of combining your previously joined timelines. Caleb had always protected you back then, you’d seen it in how his expression hardened whenever someone tried to mock you for your nervous habits and constant writing breaks.

«I know I overstepped. My place is in the room next to yours, and nowhere else.»

«Caleb, I’m sorry too. I know you meant well. I was just caught off guard… By both of you.»

Caleb’s expression had calmed down now, and he looked more like the carefree little puppy you were used to seeing.

«And your place isn’t restricted to the room next to mine. I don’t want it to be.»

Realization hit you hard, you had clearly underestimated the strength and value your friendship once had to both of you. You always underplayed it thinking you didn’t matter to Caleb, but looking back and hearing his words now you realize you meant far more than you thought. That you still mean something.

After spending the next hour trying different beds, Caleb had fashioned you a new nickname; Goldilocks. It had been an hour of too hard, too soft, before finally choosing the candidate that felt just right. It was a queen size bed in a decent price range. Caleb had insisted that he needed to try it too to make sure you didn’t feel compelled to choose that particular one in favour of a better but pricier option. After your pick had earned his seal of approval you hauled it into the back of his van and began the journey home.

You were almost back to the apartment when the warm glow emitting from a flower shop caught your attention.

«Caleb, wait!» You exclaimed, a bit too loudly apparently as it seemed to startle him.

«I forgot something. I’ll just walk home from here.» How could you forget? The one goal you set for yourself when you went out this morning was to buy flowers for Caleb.

«Uhm, whilst I consider myself pretty strong, I must admit that I’d like some assistance in getting your bed up the stairs.»

«Oh, right… Can you wait here then, I’ll only be a minute.» You wouldn’t be able to surprise him with the flowers this way, but you were adamant that he needed to receive them today.

He gave you a nod of approval and you quickly made your way into the flower shop. They were only open for another 15 minutes so you got lucky. The selection of bouquets was pretty slim so late in the afternoon, but there was one that caught your eye. A simple arrangement of soft pink carnations and baby’s breath. Very feminine, too feminine? Probably, but Caleb didn’t really strike you as someone who’d care about receiving flowers so these would partly be for yourself anyways.

You return to the car and suddenly feel a bit silly for being so determined to buy him flowers. Hopefully he wouldn’t laugh at you for enacting such a frivolous gesture.

«These are for you.» You shove the flowers ahead of you forcing Caleb's attention away from your blushing cheeks, just in case he’d be able to see the color even though the sun had disappeared.

«You got me flowers?» His face goes through a range of emotions. First he looks confused, then surprised and lastly, pleasantly surprised. «I don’t think anyone has gotten me flowers before.»

«Then I’m honored to have been the first.» You nervously bite your lip as the flush in your cheeks gradually spreads. Something about your choice of words makes his heart jump. The first.

You didn't know yours were the first lips his ever touched, he'd been too scared to inform you that he was just as inexperienced as you were. How cowardly of him... The bittersweet aftertaste of the memory still lingered on his lips, on his tongue. The way your eyes bore into his, looking both terrified and excited at the same time. How he had dared place his slightly clammy palm on your cheek. You felt warm and soft against him, until he reluctantly pulled back when the physical reactions his body experienced became too much to handle. Too hard to hide.

The few minutes that remained of your ride home went by smoothly. Getting your new bed up the stairs was another story… It probably took you longer to get it into your bedroom than you’d spent picking it out. You were both drenched in sweat at the end of it, but couldn’t stop laughing at how ridiculous the whole mission had been.

After you had both showered, Caleb went into the kitchen to get started on dinner. You found yourself stuck on the edge of your new bed, wrapped in a towel with your phone in your hands.

After her brief but impactful encounter with the prince, the poet spent some extra time in the field picking the flowers that spoke to her the most. Making sure to only pick the flowers that fit just right. The wildflower bouquet she assembled was a beautiful concoction of nature’s finest colors. She returned to the cobbled streets, bouquet in hand, hoping to run into a certain kind knight. «These are for you!» She exclaimed when she finally found him. «You got me flowers?» He questioned, raising his brows in surprise. «I don’t think anyone has gotten me flowers before.» The knight stared at her bewildered as if searching her face for deception. He found no trace of it. «Then I’m honored to have been the first.» They seemed to melt in each other's gaze, taking the time to savour this sweet moment. If the knight wasn’t accustomed to receiving thoughtful gifts, the poet was determined to make sure he knew how appreciated his kindness truly was from now on.

«Hey, pip- I mean Goldilocks! Dinner is ready!»

You quickly got dressed in something comfortable before joining Caleb at the dining table. He seemed to be in deep thought, quietly admiring your gift standing proudly as the centerpiece.

His first flowers, and they were from you.

AN: Thanks for reading! Likes, comments and reblogs are highly appreciated! If anyone is interested in being added to the taglist, let me know!

Taglist: @babyx91 @lemurianmaster @morrigan87

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ivystoryweaver · 19 hours ago

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Summer Project Brothers' Best Friend!Santiago Garcia x Younger Sister!virgin!Reader

Issue #1: Three Rules...or Four?

Summer Project Masterlist

Summary: Santiago Garcia is lifelong friends with your three very protective brothers, who happen to be the Millers: Will, Ben and (new character) Jace. You’re home for the summer after your college graduation and you have a little project in mind for you and Santi.

Overall Story Content: legal age gap - reader is graduating college and about to start grad school, much younger sister of Ben and Will Miller, so Santiago (in this story) is about 15 years older than her. Brothers (particularly Ben) call(s) reader Ducky. Family angst and drama, romance, fluff, loss of virginity, kissing, grinding, dry humping, p in v, fingering, hand job, nipple play, oral-m and f rec., language, not beta'd

wc: 3.8k

"Duckyyyyy, there she is!" Your brother Benny called with a boisterous laugh before scooping you up in his massive arms for a big hug. He twirled you around just enough to slightly annoy you and make you a little dizzy.

"Stop it, don't call me that," you giggled, pounding on his arm and motioning for your big brother Will, to rescue you. Although he was a couple inches shorter than Benny, he was no less strong.

"Don't pretend he listens to me," Will shrugged, folding his arms over his equally broad chest.

Benny finally set you down so you could hug Will, who welcomed you with open arms and a quick kiss on the top of your head.

"Where's Jace?" You inquired about your middle brother, who exemplified "middle child" in every possible sense of the term.

Benny, technically also a middle child, rolled his eyes. "Who cares?"

Fair point. Jace tended to bring a little storm cloud with him to preside over every event he attended. He wasn't quite as smart as Will, or as athletic as Benny. He was far shorter and more scrawny than both of them. Both Will and Ben were tall, muscular and handsome with dark blond hair and piercing blue eyes, while Jace's light brown hair, green eyes and lanky frame made him the odd man out. Not to mention he had no sense of humor, and your other two brothers were constantly joking around.

Still, he never let anyone forget that, at 5'10", he was still taller than their best friend Santiago Garcia.

"Be nice," you admonished Ben, giving him a playful (but pointless) shove as your eyes quickly darted around, looking for the rest of the boys - Frankie Morales, Santiago, your next door neighbor Diego - all of whom were at least ten years older than you.

Your high school besties would be joining the party in a couple hours, after they finished up at their little sister's graduation party.

You headed upstairs to your old room to stash your suitcase, happy to be home for the summer before you went back out of town for grad school.

Benny and Will grabbed the rest of your luggage and brought it up for you while you quickly freshened up before joining them all in the backyard.

Salsa music was playing, drinks were being passed around and you could hear laughter which gave you a homey feeling right away.

Since your dad passed away right after high school graduation, the boys had all been taking care of you, sometimes a little too much. Your mom died when you were in elementary school, so four men in the house, plus Frankie, Santiago, and even Tom, before he passed away, was more than enough supervision, not to mention your neighbor Diego.

They were all amazing in their own way, but you had to get out of state and spread your wings for college. Now you were finally graduating and ready to spend time with them this summer, however overprotective they might be.

You also had a little...project in mind. Something you'd been pondering for months and months. Your eyes landed on Santiago's back as he manned the grill.

The shortest of the bunch, he more than made up for it with charisma, charm and personality. You watched the muscles of his back flexing through the thin fabric of his gray t-shirt. His backward baseball cap almost covered the scar on the back of his neck. Even the movement of his tanned arms as he flipped burgers was mesmerizing.

You licked your lips without realizing it, but Frankie busted you.

"Hungry?" He bumped shoulders with you, granting you that big goofy smile you loved. His warm brown eyes twinkled at you from underneath his Standard Oil baseball cap he rarely went without.

"Hey, Frankie," you quietly greeted him, giving him a side hug. "Where's the kiddo?"

"Angelica ran back home because we forgot his damn pacifier. He fell asleep in the car seat, so she's just circling the block until the little demon wakes up."

"Do not call that baby boy a demon," you swatted Frankie's arm playfully. "He is an angel."

Frankie shrugged. "Not without a nap, he's not."

Santiago must have heard your voice because he whirled around and waved his spatula at you, flashing you a knee-weakening grin. Your cheeks heated as you found yourself beaming, pushing up on your toes as you waved back.

"Come here." He waved you over, still using the spatula as an extension of his arm.

With a giggle, you bounded over to the grill, a little caught off guard as Santi set the spatula down and wrapped you up in a big hug.

"There's my girl," he breathed on your ear. Releasing you after an indulgent moment, he gave you a once over before winking. "Been waiting for you. Got the burgers almost done medium, just how you like 'em, with garlic and Worcestershire sauce."

"Perfect, I knew there was a reason to invite you over today," you teased.

"Damn straight, someone's gotta bring talent and looks to this party," he fired back, chomping on his gum, which he somehow made look so sexy.

Your heart flip-flopped. "Did you bring your guitar?" The thought of Santiago singing did things to your insides.

He winked. "You know it. Drunk karaoke after sunset."

You rolled your eyes. "You think my brothers are gonna let me get drunk?"

"Fuck 'em. You're graduating," Santi reasoned, which made you chuckle.

"I've been an adult for over four years," you reminded him. Which made you remember your whole predicament:

you were still a virgin.

And it brought to mind your summer goal: to leave for grad school not a virgin.

Speaking of missed opportunities, Santiago eyed you carefully. "Where's the boyfriend?"

You groaned. Santiago knew very well that you and Marcus had broken up after Christmas. "Who knows? Maybe I'll meet my next one this summer."

"Good luck with that," he laughed, flipping a few burgers. "With all of us circling." He nodded toward the back door, where Jace was finally arriving to the party. He made his way straight over to the grill.

"Hey sis," he casually greeted, stuffing his hands into his khaki pants and barely giving Santiago a nod. "Sorry I'm late."

"It's okay, hi," you breathed, giving him a quick squeeze.

"Just in time to help with zero suitcases," Benny guffawed, squeezing his older but smaller brother's shoulders from behind before playfully grabbing him in a chokehold. "Lazy bum."

Jace was not amused.

"Aw, leave the little guy alone," Will teased, joining your group by the grill. He ruffled Jace's thin hair, messing it up, before doing the same to Benny.

"Can you guys not?" Jace groaned, shrugging them off, which sent them stumbling into an impromptu backyard wrestling session.

Jace shook his head and turned to you. "How are we related to those two animals?"

Santi motioned to Jace with his spatula. "Good point. You're adopted, right?"

Great, it was starting already with these guys.

Thankfully your high school besties arrived and took your mind off all these men for a while.

"Girl, you haven't been with anyone since Marcus?" Your friend Anna questioned, flopping onto your bed dramatically. Her dark waves fanned out on your favorite pillow as she held one hand above her face to inspect her manicure. The three of you had grabbed a drink and headed upstairs to catch up and get out of the heat.

"No, the final semester kicked my ass. I barely had time to text you guys, let alone go on a date," you explained, settling into the oversized, cozy chair in the corner of your room.

"Still, you can have fun, blow of steam, right?" Anna's sister Fiona chimed, grabbing one of your fluffy throw pillows and sinking down on the edge of the bed, her short, brown curls flopping in the process. "Unless you're still... you know..."

"Wait a second, oh my god, you are not still a virgin," Anna gawked, sitting up on the bed and reaching for your favorite stuffed animal - a stuffed duck with faded yellow fur. She squeezed the scruffy little guy before turning it around, as if looking to its eyes. "Who am I kidding, of course you're still a virgin."

"Her dad gave that duck to her," Fiona reasoned, whacking her sister with the throw pillow. "Don't be a dick."

"Not that it's anyone's business, but yes, I am. And yes, that's why Marcus dumped me." You sighed, taking a swig of your beverage, thankful for the sting of alcohol. "I just...it didn't feel right. I wasn't ready."

"That's because you're secretly in love with me," Fiona giggled, tossing you the throw pillow, which you barely swatted away from your glass.

"Dream on," you quipped. "I like men."

"A word that definitely does not describe Marcus," Anna groaned. "I only met him twice, but he was an infant. You need a real man."

"A woman does not need a man to find happiness," Fiona defended.

"I'm not talking about happiness, Fi," Anna protested, "I'm talking about sex." She motioned to you. "Unless you really aren't into men?"

"I'm into men," you confirmed. "I don't know why it's taken me so long - "

"You don't have to explain it. It's not like it's a bad thing," Fiona reasoned. "Maybe you just want someone to feel safe with."

"Knock, knock."

Santiago's voice rang through the crack in the slightly open door as his knuckles wrapped gently.

"Come in," you chimed, beaming at him.

He poked his head in, errant streaks of silver littering his dark curls as he smiled charmingly. "Ladies, dinner is served. Come get your meat." He winked and retreated, sending your friends snorting in amusement.

"Oh my god he is such a dad," Anna chuckled.

"He is not a dad," you reminded them. "That's Frankie."

"I know, I wasn't being literal. He is old though."

"No he is not," Fiona argued with her sister. "He's hot. And don't get me started on Frankie - an actual DILF."

"Oh god," her sister groaned. "Her undying, unrequited crush on Francisco Morales."

"As if you have any room to talk, 'Mrs. Benjamin Miller'," Fiona mocked.

"Whatever, I was in eighth grade when I wrote Benny's name on my notebook!"

The sisters got into a swatting match, reminding you of their own version of Benny and Will wrestling and half-seriously arguing.

"They're too old for us anyway," Fiona finally acknowledged, as the three of you stood and started making your way back downstairs. "Unfortunately. Your hot brothers and their hot friends. If only..."

"They're not that much older," you found yourself blurting, quite without thinking first.

"Babe, come on, Benny is like, what, ten years older than us and he's the youngest one! Is Santiago the oldest?" Fiona questioned.

"Nope, that's Frankie," you explained. "Frankie is 18 years older than me, Santi is 15, Will is 14, Jace is 12 and Benny is 10 years older. And Diego next door is the same age as Will."

"See? Old," Anna shrugged right as Benny walked in the back door, headed for the bathroom.

"Who you calling old?" He winked at her and she made a mildly embarrassing sound.

"Okay, well we know who Anna likes the best," Fiona giggled, "and we know I have it bad for sweet, married, dad Frankie, but what about you?" She pointed directly at you, now that Benny is out of earshot. "Who's the hottest of your brothers' friends?"

"What, I don't know," you tried to laugh it off, stopping in the kitchen to deposit your empty glass in the sink. "I'm related to half the group and feel like I'm practically related to the rest of them. Besides, Diego is getting married this summer."

"So...Diego then?" Anna teased.

"No it's Santiago," Fiona decided, folding her arms over her chest. "Diego's basically her fourth brother. That leaves Santi and Frankie. And Frankie's all mine."

"Mystery solved," Anna agreed.

"Yeah, okay, I'm definitely into Santi," you laughed, if only to cover your actual real and consuming interest...in Santiago Garcia.

"Somebody looking for me?" Santi piped, right on queue, hauling dirty, barbecue sauce covered trays in from the back yard to deposit into the sink.

"Yep, we were just rating who's the hottest guy here today," Anna tried to convey seriously, but her sister was already making her giggle. "We narrowed it down to Benny, Frankie and you."

Santi turned to you and narrowed his eyes. "This is a contest? With your brother?"

"Do not look at me, I am just an innocent bystander," you laughed, holding your hands up in a surrendering pose, even as your face heated under his scrutiny.

Santi stepped in close to you, shaking his head condescendingly but playfully. "Only two choices for you then. Me or Frankie." His tongue swiped over his lips as he winked. "Good luck to me, I guess."

As he barreled through the back door, out into the yard, Fiona let out a dramatic sigh. "Maybe I picked wrong. He is so hot. I don't care how old he is."

Dinner was delicious, plenty of alcohol was consumed (although Will did literally take two drinks out of your hand. Frankie sneaked them back to you though), the sun set and you had a pleasant buzz going by the time Santiago took out his guitar.

Jace rolled his eyes, accusing Santi of being a showoff under his breath.

Santiago kicked things off some Bruce Springsteen, followed by a crowd favorite, and soon enough, everyone was singing along and acting ridiculous. You found yourself laughing and so glad to be home.

Your friends' dad picked them up since they've been drinking and Frankie and Angelica got the baby home while he was just the right amount of sleepy.

Santi was all smiles and charm and eventually got everyone singing at one point or another, even Jace.

Diego went home next. His fiancée was flying in the following day to do some more wedding planning. Jace went to bed, leaving you, Benny, Will and Santiago to hang a while longer.

Will finally got tired, so the four of you decided to call it a night. While Benny shut everything down and locked up, you pulled Santiago aside.

"You okay, sweetheart?" He asked you seriously, steadying you by holding onto your forearms.

"Yeah, I'm fine. Little buzzed," you admitted with a chuckle. "Can I talk to you about something?" With slower reflexes, you got lost for a moment in his soft, syrupy gaze, his dark eyes raking over the contours of your face.

"Yeah, sure what is it?"

"Not now," you swallowed hard. "Later. Maybe at your place?"

"Okay, is everything all right?" Those piercing eyes shifted in concern.

"Yeah," you whispered. "Yeah, it's just kind of personal."

Benny walked in, tossing a blanket at pillow at Santiago, which sent him stumbling back a step. "I saw how many you had, Pope. Lay your ass down on the couch, you're going nowhere."

Scrubbing his hand over the nape of his neck, Santi shrugged, too tired and drunk to argue. "Thanks, dad."

You couldn't linger any longer and try to talk to Santi alone. Too suspicious.

So you wished them both goodnight.

The next day, you slept off your buzz, took a long shower and headed over to Santi's to tell him about your summer project.

As you knocked on his front door, you shifted from foot to foot uncertainly, almost convincing yourself to turn around and leave before you embarrassed yourself.

"Heyyy, there's my girl," he greeted you with shower fresh damp hair, a thin white t-shirt and shorts with bare feet. "Come in."

As you walked into his home, you realized you'd never been here alone. You couldn't even believe you were here now. Clenching and unclenching your fists, you chewed on your lip as he opened the fridge an fished out the orange juice.

"Thirsty?"

If he only knew.

"Uhm, I'm fine, no thanks."

Noticing your trepidation, he set the OJ carton on the counter, inching closer.

"Sweetheart, you okay? What did you wanna talk to me about?"

Exhaling loudly, you started to lose your nerve with him gazing into your eyes. It was now or never.

"What is it?" His dark eyebrows shifted in concern. "You can tell me."

Drawing a deep breath, you decided to go for it. "I'm gonna ask you something. A favor. It's big."

"Okay," he nodded sincerely.

"But if you don't want to do it, you have to promise to say no and I won't be mad. And you have to swear not to tell anyone."

He eased around the kitchen counter to stand right in front of you. "What's going on? Is something wrong?"

Your heart swelled, seeing his concern. "No, it's not like that. It's just a favor. But you have to swear this conversation never happened, especially if you say no."

He shook his head, confused. "Okay..."

"I was wondering if I could get your help with something. But it's...it's big." You exhale loudly, hardly able to believe you're asking him this. You've rehearsed the speech in your mind so many times. "See....I'm graduating college and I have a little problem I want you to help me with."

"Tell me what it is," he insisted, a bit more emphatically. "Like, a party? Or..."

"I'm...still a virgin."

As soon as the words left your mouth, your face went hot and you clenched your hands into fists to keep them from shaking. You had to do this. Better to get it out in the open and have Santi reject you, than wonder all summer if he would've said yes.

You watched the confusion, then realization, then shock register on his face. Now it was out there, might as well.

"This summer, I wanna....I don't know, not be one - a virgin, I mean, by the time I go to grad school, and so, I was wondering if you would maybe...help me out?"

Santiago frowned, shaking his head slightly. "You want me to help you find someone to hook up with?"

Oh god. This was coming out all wrong. Feeling overwhelmingly flustered, you shook your head. "Nevermind, forget it. It's stupid."

But Santi didn't let you get far, gently grasping your shoulders to steady you. "Wait, sweetheart, you mean..." He pointed to himself. "You mean me?"

You closed your eyes and held up your hands defensively. "Look, Santiago...I get it. You probably don't see me that way at all. You probably never could. I just, I trust you and I thought I would ask you first because... well...I don't know." You took a step back, to safety, bracing for inevitable rejection. " You can just say no and then we can forget I even came here today 'cause I don't want to - "

"Yes."

Your eyes went wide, your nervous rambling coming to a halt.

"I'll do it. If you're sure." His eyebrows shifted questioningly.

You swallowed hard. "I'm sure. Are you sure?"

He licked his lips. "Definitely."

Your stomach flip-flopped as he stalked toward you with slow determination.

"O-okay. I have rules."

He smirked. "Rules?"

"Yes. They're for our...mutual protection, let's say. If you don't want to hear them, or do them, just say so now. They're not negotiable."

"Okay, shoot." Santiago folded his arms over his chest smugly. He was enjoying this.

The shock of the situation was starting to wear off a little, so you dove in. "Okay, the most important rule by far is: my brothers cannot know. They can never ever know."

He quickly nodded. "Good point, I enjoy being alive."

"Exactly."

"'kay and number 2?"

"Obviously this goes without saying for both of us, but, we have to be safe and that includes either one of us being able to change our minds at any time."

"Obviously," he agreed, "Next?"

You took a deep breath. "No feelings."

His eyebrows shot up, the corner of his mouth following. "Feelings?"

"Right. No feelings. Just...sex."

He swallowed hard, his eyes traveling down the shape of your body. He nodded, his eyes flickering to your mouth, then back into your eyes. "Just sex."

Pacing away and back, he had a question of his own. "So, how do you want to do this?"

You paused. "Are you sure you're okay with this?"

Santi chuckled. "Believe me, this is something I can definitely do for you. And like I said, I value my life, so I won't be telling your brothers."

"Good."

"Do I get to have rules?" He returned, eyes meeting your challengingly.

"Huh?"

Licking his lips, he shrugged one shoulder. "If i'm participating, do I get to make any rules?"

You wryly smiled. "I doubt it, but if you can think of any, let's hear it."

"Okay," he agreed. "How about, I set the pace. Obviously, rule 2 applies. You can stop anytime, and we never have to go any faster than you're comfortable with. But if this is about you not being a virgin anymore, are you thinking 'one and done' or - "

"Santi, are you asking if we're gonna be fuck buddies all summer?"

"Hey, you said it." He winked, making your cheeks heat as you sheepishly giggled.

"But seriously," he went on, easing into your personal space, his voice dropping to a rough whisper. "I mean, have you...done stuff before? Anything?"

"Yeah, I've done stuff. Some stuff." You squirmed under his undivided attention - something you'd never had fully, ever before.

"Okay, that's what I mean." Leaning in, he locked eyes with you. "I want to sort of...do it all. Everything. I want to figure out what you've done and what's new for you." Your eyes flickered away, but he chased after your gaze. "I wanna learn what you like, what gets you going... I want it to be good for you."

Your mouth went dry, but just hearing those words from him, directed at you - not everything was feeling so dry at the moment. "Right, so..."

"So, when do you wanna start?"

"As soon as possible," you blurted. Shaking your head, you tried to regain some control over the situation. "But not today."

"Tonight? Tomorrow? I'm ready right now."

You slugged him on the arm, putting you back on what was your normal dynamic with your brothers' friend.

Santi grinned. "Hey, a beautiful woman wants to sleep with me. I'm not hesitating...unless she wants to, of course."

"Okay, tomorrow," you agreed.

"But no sex tomorrow," he insisted. "Not yet. I'll make dinner."

Before you protested, he clarified, "Not to make it a date, just to set the mood. It'll help if you're comfortable. No sex. First base only." He winked. "Maybe second."

"Oh god," you groaned, the sound coming out as much more of a moan than you intended.

What had you gotten yourself into?

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