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fafulous · 4 years

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Take Me Home (1/5)

Andy Barber x Reader (Post!Defending Jacob)

Summary: After the unfortunate events of the trial and after, a depressed Andy Barber decides to call it quits and start a mundane life far away from Newton. He decides it is best to have a fresh start away from prying eyes and alone, but he never thought his caring neighbor (and her son) would change all of that.

Themes: MAJOR D.J. SPOILERS ((The series is following the BOOK ENDING and not Show)), Sad and soft Andy Barber, Single Mother Reader. Cursing.

a/n: I hope you guys like it. We all know Andy deserves some softness :’)

The one thing you cherished about your neighbourhood was its calming silence.

Away from the hustle and bustle of the 21st century fast pacers. It did not give you any force to lead a rush life. No matter how hard life was you enjoyed this serenity, just like your neighbours.

You were the only one relatively younger in your neighbourhood, for this place was normally owned by retired elderly after experiencing everything life had to offer. But for you and your three-year-old little son, it was a second chance at life. All your neighbours except for that one loner house beside you was occupied by retired veterans and war heroes.

But that soon changed.

A man by the name Andrew Barber had moved to the house beside you. You got to know one day when you saw a huge truck with people going in and out of the house with clean and neat furniture.

Seeing all that, your vivid imagination went running and tried to picture how this man would look. Judging by the furniture (which made no sense), you thought your new neighbour was someone who would be simple and felt it wasn’t going to be someone who was, you know, old.

Oh boy were you right.

Once those packers went by, you saw him.

Andrew Barber was nothing what you thought out to be. Tall and broad, his back muscles would tell you its own tale. From afar you noticed his biceps never failed him too, for his arms screamed whenever he went in and out with a huge piece of cardboard boxes. His facial hair was a bit messy, like he is just moving into his new abode right after a sloth nap. You weren’t sure but his blue eyes had a dull finish that were deep embedded in his sunken face.

You also took notice of his sleek black Audi A6 which was parked by his driveway; It was not easy to peel your eyes away from its beauty.

This was wrong. You’re a single mother with the most adorable kid you could’ve ever asked for. After a struggle of six months your son Nikolai and you have found a hint of stability; single parenting is never easy unless you get the hang of it.

And you did.

Before you could offer any refreshments, your neighbours beat you to it. They were too kind. They were the elderly parents whose snobbish kids only visited once a year. Hence you decided to fill the gap in their lives. They loved you and you loved them back.

So now you decided that maybe when the time is right, you could meet him in a day or two and get to know each other.

Right?

—

This was new for Andy. Very foreign too.

To live a life without Laurie and Jacob was something he never expected to happen after the trial. It’s been a good handful of weeks since it happened. He did not even have the heart to think more about his son. His eyes would cloud with tears and the whole day would go wasted in drowning himself in sorrow and liquor.

He was still mourning after all.

So he decided to move. Move away from his house that reminded of his 17 years of a marriage that only seemed successful, only for it go wrong in an impulse. Move away from all of the local tabloids that hinted at himself being a next murderer.

Move away from his unsuccessful lineage.

Scattered around him were boxes of his stuff at his new house, his stuff alone. Laurie’s stuff was nearly packed and sent away to her parents’ home, the last time he’ll ever associate himself with her family.

Yes, her family.

Andy did file for a divorce while she was in prison, but that was a long procedure until it became official. However hard it was to sign those papers; it was as hard to let go of Laurie. Because if he lets her go, he has nobody.

A lone sunken soul.

The packers truck got in half of his belongings, the remaining which will come tomorrow. It was difficult moving especially with one single person. His neighbours were all elderly, so surely, he could not ask anyone for help. Also, it was another reason he chose this locality, he could be alone while he knew he lived in a tightly knitted community filled with respected war veterans.

He was extremely taken aback when many of his neighbours offered him freshly cooked food and refreshments to get over the day. He was thankful. They knew about his past and still they accepted him and asked him to reach out if any help was needed.

Andy’s day went ahead unpacking his clothes first, which took his time. He wondered if he’d ever need the fashionable suits and ties, he wore to work. There was a job opening at a swimming instructor at the local community gym; all he needs are those Speedos. But nevertheless, he kept then all back, trying to keep his mind preoccupied in cleaning.

But all that effort seemed futile for every memory crashed down when he unpacked his wedding tux.

He felt too claustrophobic, buried his hand in his face. He no longer had a marriage. He no longer had anyone to look after.

He no longer had anyone to look after him.

But amidst all this chaos in his foggy mind, he hears a lovely toothy giggle of a child.

He peeks out of his window to see a young mother and her small son sitting in their backyard with a picnic spread in front of them, while the little boy kept tripping over the grass purposefully just so he could laugh and make his mother laugh too. Andy had no idea he had a middle-aged family living nearby.

Seeing you and the son spread this familiar warmth inside Andy, reminiscing how he had this. It reminded Andy of a happier time.

Soon to be replaced with anguish. He would never have that again. He missed feeling the warmth of family, the love of a wife. Life never really gave second chances he believed.

He noticed you, a caring mother placing the little one on your lap while you fed him all the scrumptious food. He didn’t fail to miss how your eyes shined with happiness. A happy woman is always a pretty woman at heart; it is something he used to tell himself. A soft chuckle left out of Andy’s lips as he saw the boy eat the food messily, but you seemed to be patient, responding lovingly towards his naughty antics.

Her husband is one lucky son of a bitch.

He could watch you two all day, but that would be extremely inappropriate. Right now, Andy wanted his newfound house to look like a home.

Next day went by and it didn’t seem like he was getting anywhere near getting his house ready. He was waiting for another truck to get more of his stuff while he sipped on some bear till the movers arrived. They unloaded most of his stuff at his lawn and went away.

“Need a hand moving those boxes?”

Andy turned around to a gentle voice of the same woman who had he had seen yesterday with the small child.

You.

A chilly afternoon, he wasn’t surprised you sporting a loose, fluffy knitted woollen pullover with black leggings. Your hair was tied up in a bun and then noticed that he was probably staring at you for a long time.

“Uh- No. I’m fine, thank you.”

But you kept standing there looking at him smirking. He was literally struggling to carry all those boxes “Your body language says something else.”

When he looked up you saw his sunken eyes with even more detail as though the man hasn’t slept in days, “Would I be desperate man if I said yes?”

You chuckled, “Not at all. I’m Y/N Y/LN.”

“Andrew Barber”, he stretched out his hand for a warm greeting with a firm handshake. The feeling of his rough palms sends small jitters to you, but you ignored it; and just like that you resumed.

You helped him lift the bigger boxes to his house even though you knew he carried most of the weight. Two could always get the work done sooner. Both of you didn’t talk much for these 20 minutes but it was a comfortable silence while both of you took sneaky glances at each other’s features.

When you neared him, you realized he was lot more than just handsome. Sunken face was holding two blue eyes that would be enticing if he had put any effort to put any life in them. His beard was neatly trimmed although scruffy, just like you saw yesterday.

Andy on the other hand was just too despondent to, you know, check you out. He thought you to be a beautiful woman with a kind heart, especially after seeing you and your son yesterday.

He even thought of asking you about your son and family, but that would be too intrusive he wondered.

Andy thought you’d leave after moving the boxes but you insisted you’d stay to help unpack his stuff and maybe cook some lunch for him since he didn’t even unpack his kitchen utensils out. He was ready to accept the help only for a second.

The Andrew Barber he knew before the events of the trial would have gladly accepted, maybe even made lunch for the beautiful lady, instead of you, who graciously offered him help. He was divorced now so there was nothing stopping him.

But do you really deserve a fresh start with a lady Andy?

Would she be here if she knew who you really were?

His mind was plagued. He moved here with the intention of a fresh start but, he wondered if anyone would actually accept him. He decided for himself that they wouldn’t.

“It’s alright Y/N. Thanks for your help.”

There was no way a man could set up his home all alone you thought. “Mr. Barber, are you sure? I really have no problem. I’m completely unoccupied at the moment. Besides Nikolai-”

“No.”

You blinked at his curt reply.

“I’m good Y/N. I can take care of the remaining stuff here. You can go now.”

Looking at him made you realise how conflicted he was. His words likely meant that he didn’t require your presence but his whole demeanour looked like just wanted some god damn company. He didn’t mind your help at first, but at the same time now he was pushing you away. What changed?

So much for making acquaintances with the new neighbour, you thought.

Without saying anything you stiffly nodded, Andy realizing the offence written all over your face, and saw you walk away from his abode closing his door politely.

It was probably for the best to keep distance from a kind woman like you. He knew you were trying to get acquainted with him like any normal person would, but Andy was firmly grounded that he and normalcy would never go back again.

The minute you left he opened another beer bottle to sink himself. This fresh start for Andy was just bullshit.

–

You rushed back the minute you closed Mr. Grumpy Cat’s door and made a beeline to your home, only to see your son playing on the countertop with one your elderly neighbour.

“Thank you, Mr. Arthur, for taking care of Nikolai. I hope he didn’t cause much trouble.”

“I’d do anything for you sweet pea, Nikolai was a sweetheart.” The old man chuckled and turned to leave, “By the way last weekend’s pot pie was delicious. I had to make it up to you.”

Returning a hug, you thanked your neighbour again and leaped your son in your arms, attacking him with kissed while he spurted giggles. “Mommy it tickles!”

“Guess what happened peaches? I met our new neighbour”

Nikolai clapped his hand “Mista Wandew Bahhba?”

Your son was hell bent on knowing the name of the newcomer after he laid his eyes on the stylish black Audi. Boys always know their toys.

You nodded, “He’s a grumpy man peaches. I have no idea what to do with him.” And just like that you began speaking with Nikolai. He was your only company to talk. He never really understood anything, but your talented son did a fairly good job of putting up a pretense to hear.

“I offered him help and he says yes. Then I kindly ask him if I can help him more, you know like cook homemade spaghetti. But instead he becomes snippy with me?”

“Woh no,” your son whispered to your exclamation, which in reality was for his superhero figurines falling on to the floor. “I like his cahr mommy.”

“So do I Niko, but I so do not like him,” you paused and gave him a kiss on the forehead, “Guess we’re the only sunshine in this neighbourhood peaches.”

—

Days went by and you rarely interacted with your new neighbour.

Oh and when it did, it really never went well for you.

The first time was when a few standard posts under the name of Mr. Barber arrived at your doorstep, since he wasn’t available at his house. Like any other hospitable neighbour, you signed the post and made sure to drop it by him when he gets back.

"Uh Mr. Barber the post man dropped this by at our doorstep since you weren’t available. I thought I should give it to you.”

Andy opened the door with a few knocks and saw you standing with a few posts in a fluffy cable knit sweater. He took the posts from you, gently brushing over your hands. He perused through them quickly and gave you that conflicted stern look.

“I appreciate it Mrs. Y/L/N, but next time I’d like to collect my own posts irrespective of its nature. You can tell them I can collect it from the post office”

Was this man for real?

You crossed your arms and gave him back that stern look too. He wasn’t going to get away without you throwing shade. “Oh you know Mr. Barber I was just trying to be a good neighbour. It’s not like I’m dying here to get associated with you.”

He gave you a nasty grin which triggered you to make you leave away from his threshold.

Andy thought for a moment that he already crossed the line with the wrong woman.

The next time you met him was probably the last time you would ever meet him.

Your shift at the library got too late, for you were the Librarian of the local Library. You didn’t have to worry much about picking up your son late for he was at Mr. Arthur’s.

But coming home realising that he was sitting on the front porch of Andrew’s house made you park your car haphazardly in your driveway and run up to your child, ignoring Andrew’s presence.

“I’m so sorry sweetie. What are you doing here Niko?”

Andy interrupted, “Mr. Arthur had to visit the hospital. He was catching the flu and he didn’t want to give it to Nikolai here.”

You didn’t want to meet his gaze, but you forced yourself for you were grateful for this kind gesture. Maybe this Grumpy Cat has a kind heart after all.

“Mr. Barber, thank you so much for taking care of Niko. My phone must’ve been on silent if Arthur wanted to contact me.”

“Oh, don’t thank me Mrs. Y/L/N. I am just filling in the gaps of irresponsible parenting.”

It felt like a blunt hit to your heart. “Excuse me?”

“Oh, you heard me.” he whispered so closely that you could smell his musky deodorant with a hint of beer. Your son was out of earshot, sipping on a glass of lemonade that was probably offered by this man. “Trust me I know what happens to a child that is always kept away from their caretakers.”

He quickly went on to say how Nikolai was a special child when your son came near you both and how your family should take more care in your child. You never really listened for your eyes threatened to pierce with tears. No way were you going to cry in front of this man.

“Thank you Mista Wandi.”

“Anytime buddy.”

He went up and shut the door, like it was a personal aimed at you.

And you just stood there feeling numb while Niko tugged on your work coat.

“Let’s go home Mommi.”

The audacity to tell you how to be a parent. Did he even have a child? Does he even know how to it is to take care of a child single handed?

But those questions never mattered. No matter how positive you are in life, its never nice to hear someone spew your flaws on to your face.

Meanwhile minutes passed when Andy soon realised how he had royally fucked up. Everyday around 5pm you and your child would come along to the backyard and have a snack ritual while both of you played or read story books. For Andy, though he chided himself for his stalking behaviour, it brought him a sense of peace to see your son scream with shrills of laughter when he ran around the lawn.

He had nothing against you, yet he was being selfish.

I be mean to her; I stay away from here. Simple.

Today however, Nikolai sat facing away from his ypu munching on freshly baked cookies while you sported a tear stained face. He felt a twinge when he saw you staring straight ahead with a blank stare while tears rolled down. His heart successfully sunked when he saw Nikolai trying to wipe your tears and hug you. Andrew then sat down dramatically on his chair when he saw you breakdown into your son’s fragile shoulders.

Apologies wouldn’t fix this. It would, but Andrew Barber the resilient thought that being obnoxiously rude to someone he wants to be close to will make them hate him.

He never thought it would hurt you.

He decided not to take any efforts in an apology; or it could take more than an apology.

—

A few weeks passed by and you tried your level best and succeeded in avoiding banters with Mr. Grumpy Cat. Whenever you saw him, a flurry of rage fell over you. Was it your mistake you were trying to be friendly to your only attractive neighbour?

Strike out attractive. A mean soul was never attractive.

Andrew Barber on the other hand dreaded what had happened; he was a little too late to the party to realise that your house had no male inhabitant, except for that one man who had made a visit.

He soon deduced that you were a single mother.

Too late rather Andy.

And when he recalled what he had said to you, he wanted you to slap him in the face. Hard enough to have a bruise that lasted for a year.

Nikolai and you always woke up late on a weekend morning. Both of you always shared and slept in the same room for Nikolai had regularly occurring nightmares.

You never realised but you and Niko woke up a small commotion outside your house, or probably his house.

Plus, the other day it so happened Nikolai’s father paid a terribly long visit, pleading you to take him back into your life. He felt apologetic for what he did. But that lingering memory was soon cut off by Grumpy Cat’s voice.

Knowing his tendencies to irate his neighbours, (or maybe just you exclusively) you ignored it and began serving late breakfast pancakes for your son. But you soon stopped when you heard a loud, hoarse bellow.

“GET OFF MY LAWN!”

You looked outside of your window to see a bunch of vans and the reporters standing outside Andy’s lawn. Niko ran up to you and carried him over your hip for the little one heard the scary yell too.

Andy’s car was parked haphazardly on the pavement. A pair or more of reporters were taking pictures of him and his vandalised garage door.

“Oh my god.”

You put down Niko and asked him to play with his toys. Yes, you hated Andrew but what you saw on his now tainted garage door made you want to retch. It was such a distasteful thing to do. It appeared as if a spray can paint was used to write whatever it was on the door:

MURDERER, YOU WILL ROT IN HELL TOO.

Andy crouched down on his knees, his hands covering his face and ruggedly running his hands through his hair, while he kneeled down in front of the vandalism.

The very reason he moved away from Newton was now on his garage door.

You wanted to go out and help him, but your ego wouldn’t let you. Why should you help a man who was nothing but mean to you all this while?

Luckily enough you saw Mr. Arthur and a couple of his old friends admonishing the press. They threatened that this community was filled with retired war veterans and that they would charge them for community trespassing and disrupting the lives of people who have lost a limb and more for this country.

Hearing that threat made the desperate amateur reporters leave from the vicinity as soon as possible.

Andy stood up and tried to process this whole situation, looking around for any sort of help, only to lay his eyes on the faint image you from your window.

You expected him to shout and rage and ask you to fuck off from staring at his pitiful state. But he didn’t. You would never forget those embarrassed sunken eyes, silently pleading for help.

He didn’t deserve this. You have no idea about his past or who he was to garner such attention, but this was just cruel. He soon averted from your gaze and went on to thank his fellow elderly friends and made his way inside home.

Later in the evening, you caught Andy scrubbing the ugly writings with cloth and soap water. After a while, he took a few steps behind and saw that they words were still there but faded.

“I had some grey paint for Nikolai’s nursery, but never got the chance to do it.”

Andy turned to that sweet voice of yours and hesitated in meeting your gaze. He was embarrassed, for you stood there, giving out an arm to help him again despite his foul behaviour. He saw little Nikolai standing behind you with his shabby brown hair that reminded him of Jacob, clutching onto your legs while he peaked at him. He didn’t understand what you mean by the whole nursery thing, but he stood up and finally, both of you took in each other’s gaze.

Andy’s eyes were even more sunken than he had when he arrived, his blue orbs sunk in a sea of red. He must have been crying. He saw you were missing your feisty eyes that you always sported. Maybe it’s because you despised him so much.

“It’s not the exact colour of your garage door but it can do the trick I suppose.”

The second you handed over the paint to him, you quickly turned around to head towards your home. But Andy didn’t want to push you further anymore by being a dick. He was ready to apologise.

“Hey please listen up! I really am s- “

“No no no,” your voice trembled; this habit of crying while you were angry was just exasperating you wondered, “I think its best we don’t hold conversation Mr. Barber. This will be probably my last interaction with you; what happened to you was horrid and ugly. You don’t deserve that. That much I know”

Andy was hesitant, embarrassed. “Mrs. Y/L/N- “

“Quit calling me a missus! I am not even fucking married anymore-” you said drawing quotes in the air, to be interrupted by a little tug at your coat. You realised that your kid was standing next to you. And you swore in front of him. Great parenting.

“Oh Niko,” you picked him up and peppered him with a few kisses, “Sorry for that language. Mommy won’t swear again okay. I’m sorry.”

“Yeah”, the kid nodded and buried his head into your neck and hugging you tightly.

"Let’s go, sweetie. I’m done with this man.”

As you went away the little boy who was wrapped around over your shoulder waved with his short hands to Andy. To Nikolai, Andy was the one who had the coolest car and made the best lemonade (which he had when he was made to wait for his mom). He never really understood the intensity of adults’ arguments. He was just a grateful child.

It was only then Andy realised he had to make it up to you by any means for he stood there alone feeling like a real douchebag with a paint can in his hands.

—

Part 2

—

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flowerflamestars · 4 years

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Nesta Under the Mountain part 3: acomaf, the later half

So while some extremely painful flirting is happening, so is plot. Azriel periodically disappears to try to infiltrate the Queens palace. Morrigan splits her time between Velaris and trying to keep Keir remotely in line. Amren and Lucien teach Nesta how to use magic, Cassian readies the legions for war.

So Nesta, unlike Feyre, has multiple sources for her most important questions: What the hell is Hybern doing? Trying to build an empire of old. Reaching for glory that isn’t there, because Prythian is wealthy.

Why Amarantha? Why was she so powerful?

It’s Rhysand who answers her, one day when they’re alone. He’s drinking on the roof- Nesta is inclined to make a comment about lordly behavior but doesn’t because she knows, she knows, from the look in his eyes, that he’s going to answer for real.

Amarantha liked to talk in bed. And Rhysand had, eventually, put the pieces together: Amarantha was the invading force alone, because Amarantha needed to earn Hyberns favor.

What did Hybern have? A kingdom crippled without its slaves. A King who’d ruled so long the world forgot his name. No heir, no other ruler. No son, only daughters.

Amarantha sought to earn her place in succession- with her father’s stolen magical secrets and a taste for vengeance.

Nesta accepts this, and has a drink.

There’s an interim of weeks, while Amren relearns a dead language and Azriel tries his last, worst plans. Nesta is so ready to tear out of her skin- Morrigan succeeds in getting Nesta to go out with her.

Morrigan pulls her over cobblestones to Ritas, and Nesta absolutely doesn’t tell her Lucien had found the place on his first city walkabout and been toasting their bitter victories there every one since.

Cassian, as he tends to wherever Nesta is, appears. They haven’t spoken since she came back with the book. Lucien trickles in with glitter in his hair, Azriel silent, offensively handsome drawing the light by his side.

And Morrigan watches. Cassian will spend the night quietly pressing fresh drinks into Nesta’s hand and glaring like absolute murder at any stranger who tries to get near. She sees how Cassian, her friend for five centuries, is contextualizing this: service, gladly rendered.

Understands he will make it small in his head and it means the opposite- the very opposite- that Nesta is letting him do either of those things for her. That she trusts him, to be near at all.

Morrigan and Nesta have a very different talk afterward than her and Feyre would have. Mor thinks it might be a good idea to make it really clear she herself doesn’t ever want Cassian, in case, that too, is standing in the way.

(Nesta also just...so clearly doesn’t have a single negative thought about Lucien doing...whatever Lucien does. They’ll get insouciant and mean and discuss the attractiveness of anyone. Nesta, unlike Feyre, reacts to queerness without even blinking)

So Mor and Nesta might not enjoy each other, exactly, but they respect one another. When Rhysand poses his insane Nesta you were mortal, let’s meet the Queens on mortal land plan, Morrigan, more than anyone, is the one who listens when Nesta explains that the Queens hate faeries.

Hate magic. Hate, even, it seems, the mortals that live along the wall for existing in proximity to Prythian.

It’s like letting go of a dream- for the chance of something real. Five centuries have passed, and that’s not much for Mor, but it’s everything, to mortals. Their bright lives are so quick, so valuable in an eyeblink- and that’s why Nesta’s here at all.

A mortal heart.

Azriel and Nesta team up- she scoffs that infiltration has fails, laughs outright at the idea she should be a diplomat, and proposes something else. They veritable army of spies, why are none of them mortal? Hundreds of humans work in Court of Queens. Voiceless, unrecognized. None of the magical protections would stop them.

So instead of Keir, or the Veritas, or her sisters- we bring back the lady mercenary. We bring in a whole bunch of lady mercenaries. A new network of information, passed from overlooked woman to overlooked woman, carried in shadows, all the way back to the Court of Night.

There’s no meeting. Because Hybern is already there.

And Nesta thinks its the most insane thing she’s ever heard- they want to live forever?

Morrigan tries to comfort her, Lucien tries to stop Morrigan, because he knows- Nesta doesn’t regret. And she tells them all that, looking over the war map, each grim face and strange shred of sympathy.

Nesta says, I know I’m a monster and I’m glad of it. I will never belong to just one Court, never go home. I cannot, because that life was taken from me and I am glad, because it will take a monster to protect the humans from other monsters.

And Rhysand says, oh so very quietly: You can belong.

But it’s lost, completely, in two things- the way Lucien has stepped around Azriel to let Nesta, not lean- Nesta, sober, leans on absolutely no one- but to be there, close, in her orbit, and Cassian standing up.

It’s the Queens Meeting promise, dark chocolate version. Cassian wipes away that one tear on her perfect face. Says to her and her alone like no one else is there, that he’d done monstrous things his entire life in the name of what was right. But he’d become something worse, unleash a whole ocean of blood, to protect the innocents who needed it. Die a monster, in defense of those mortals with her.

And Nesta just looks at him. Like she can see all the way through to his aching soul, and nods.

One commander to another. Absolute, perfect, understanding.

So what happens, if the mcguffin of the book cannot work?

Nesta says, like Cassian isn’t still staring at her, like she isn’t leaning into Lucien’s bodyheat like a refuge- the book is to control the Cauldron, but why can’t we just go after the Cauldron?

Steal it? Break it? Use it ourselves.

No ones answers particularly satisfy her- they can winnow. They can move unseen. There’s more power in this room than whole kingdoms possess, why the hell can’t they just break in, touch the Cauldron, and winnow away?

Cassian says it’s suicide. The castle is a deathtrap. Guards, wards, magic.

And, Rhysand adds, the Cauldron might not play along. It’s too powerful, too old to just treat like an object. The Cauldron itself could resist.

They’re all piling out of the townhouse, after the unsuccessful meeting, when Lucien goes white. Freezes.

And Nesta knows.

Knows that despite every precaution, the words that have never, ever escaped her lips in Prythian. Despite Tamlin dead- someone, somehow, found out that Prythian’s vengeance has two vulnerable, mortal sisters.

Nesta is grabbing onto Lucien to winnow away before anyone can ask what is wrong. Because something is wrong, so, so wrong- at the last second, Cassian snatches her hand, and ends up dragged along.

The Archeron estate is on fire.

There’s no time to ask- no time to talk. Cassian starts killing Hybernian soldiers left and right, no one here that can actually stop him.

Nesta runs straight into the fire, Lucien on her heels, keeping the flames away. Not that he needs to- Nesta is shimmering with power, every Court’s strength right on the surface, teeming to be used. She kills six men before she finds Elain, kicking and screaming in a soldiers arms.

That soldier loses his head- that man, Lucien turns to ash.

It’s Cassian who finds Feyre, hidden in the kitchen, standing on top of table having just dumped a small ocean on lye on her attackers. Despite making short work of the burnt, pissed off faeries, she’s still throwing shit at him when Nesta, screaming her name, is finally close enough to be heard.

Nesta almost stabs Cassian in the back getting to Feyre. Fey jumps off the table, straight at her sister- there’s no pause for thought, no flinch at her faery face and bloody hands, just an armload full of her taller baby sister, an easy weight to carry now.

When they make it out of the collapsing house, Azriel and Rhys are waiting.

It’s Rhys who says, in that tone of voice that makes Nesta want to beat him to death, the voice that insists, I understand, who says, you have a family?

Nesta doesn’t answer. Nesta doesn’t say a goddamn word to anyone at all except for Feyre and Elain as they take them back to Velaris. As she settles them in the roaring warmth of one of the palatial sitting rooms, wraps them in blankets. Conveys, solely with a head jerk and a glare, that Cassian should make himself useful and provide hot beverages.

Nesta doesn’t say anything until the burns are healed by Lucien, her sisters understand where they are, and what has happened.

It’s Feyre who snaps first and bodily pulls Nesta down on the couch between them. Elain who leans hard, shoulder to shoulder, and wipes the blood off Nesta’s face.

They love each other- they still love her, don’t blame her, and that is what makes Nesta’s choice.

She introduces them to Lucien, her friend. To the others without explanation, the odd bedfellows of war Nesta really is starting to like despite herself. Except Rhys. Rhys can fall in the damned ocean.

It’s a long, long evening, and they all get settled eventually- Feyre, in particular, with a shy smile and an extra mug of Cassian’s hot chocolate.

Everyone goes their separate ways, and Lucien, quietly, slips off to find Nesta in the dark.

He knows what she’s going to say. Hybern came for her family- Hybern almost killed her sisters. Nesta doesn’t give a fuck about the book, about Rhysand’s alliances, or hangup on the mortal queens- Nesta wants Hybern to pay.

Lucien sometimes looks at his life now- free, safe as he choses, the dark eyed smile of man who fears no part of him- and thinks it’s all because of Nesta Archeron’s heart. Nesta, who believed in loyalty enough to buy his safety. Nesta, who had every reason to hate Spring and still been the only person to look close enough and see, that Lucien was just as trapped.

No one in his life had ever given him that, so easily. No one had cared.

Nesta didn’t even think about it- he was in her corner and she was in his, friends. Best friends, only friends they had. Lucien would have still chosen her, every time.

Choses her now- Nesta says, I’m going tonight. I’m going alone. I’m not waiting any longer.

And Lucien squeezes her hand, and tells her, not alone.

They winnow to the castle like bone across the sea.

Lucien might not know why he can break wards, why foul enchantment can’t touch him, but he knows how to use it. How to fight and kill, and does just that. Lucien stands guard, Lucien gets Nesta to the Cauldron.

No Book, no plan, just this- Nesta’s will do what is right.

Two hands on the Cauldron- and Rhysand was right. It won’t move. It won’t be winnowed away, it pulls her in and speaks.

The story of the Cauldron is the story of a woman.

Power, power, power- endless potential, utilized to create. A thousand children, a million voices. But then her children grew- into their own power, their own politics and ways. They forgot her voice, that forget she’d made them- and they trapped her. Broke her. Imprisoned her.

Forgot she was not a cauldron- she was their Mother.

But the Mother was also once the Maiden, the Mother always becomes the Crone.

The Crones watches, as the dark night comes, and all life eventually ends.

She’d been imprisoned all over again.

Nesta Archeron, drowning in power, communicates by sheer force of screaming, raging will.

I was imprisoned, I stolen, I was remade against my will-

I was broken, and all I asked was that my family be safe- all I wanted- I am the child of every Court you made, I am the daughter of your power and i WILL NOT- I will not allow your sons to kill what is ours-

The Cauldron, seething, stills, if only for a moment.

Nesta thinks she’s won. Nesta realizes, too late, that she can smell blood. Lucien, stabbed and scrabbling, Nesta being dragged away from the Cauldron- the King had waited for her.

And how he crooned with joy- Nesta Archeron, the destroyer. Nesta Archeron, Prythian’s vengeance. Nesta Archeron you will be mine, you, you, you, finally, a worthy woman-

It’s a desperate, stupid ploy. Nesta can’t escape, Nesta can’t save Lucien, knows it from the blood dripping off his lips as he mouthes, a goodbye: love you, Archeron.

Nesta jumps into the Cauldron.

What comes out is not what went in- young as a fawn, old as the seas- Nesta doesn’t have to steal eternity. She’s already eternal, she’s already powerful in her rage-

But the Cauldron, who’d slept so long. Broken in peices, cold, welcomes her fire like the fierce magic of her first children, and gives her a gift.

Nesta’s no maiden or mother, but the Cauldron is happy to let the Crone out.

Death comes out of those waters, and mists the King of Hybern.

Scoops up her beloved companion, the fire that lights the way, and leaves the castle of the king unraveling behind her.

Nesta brings the Cauldron home.

The bloody bundle of Lucien is pulled from her arms on the floor of Rhysand’s townhouse, the Cauldron quiet behind them. It’s to Cassian who is frankly patting her down, searching for injuries, that Nesta says:

She wasn’t the only sister, and then passes out.

#this is so fun!#I am frankly overwhelmed by all the lovely things yall have said??#Nesta SHOULD be a protagnist

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madtype · 3 years

Text

Cabaret Club Czar Training - YUKI (Part 4)

yuki’s training continues! this time she and majima discuss personal improvement, unsuccessful job hunting, and how yuki ended up as a hostess.

highlights: - majima being very kind and supportive to yuki regardless of the option chosen - yuki still being too nervous to even theoretically sit a job interview - majima making brazen assumptions about yuki’s love life...

full transcript under the cut!

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MAJIMA: Okay, ready for another round of talking?

YUKI: Yes, please!

M: Wow, Yuki-chan. You've got those battle butterflies all sorted out, don't ya?

Y: Well, it is just you, Majima-san.

M: Hey, we'll have none of that, thanks.

M: Alright! I'm the customer, you're the hostess, same as always. Are ya ready?

Y: Yeah! Of course!

Y: Welcome to Club Sunshine, Yuki! I mean, customer!

M: ...We still ain't there.

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Y: Majima-san, thank you for requesting me. It's pretty cold today, isn't it?

M: Hey, Yuki-chan. You're lookin' cute as ever today.

Y: Haha... Hahahahaha...

M: Yo, what's with the giggles? I'm tryin' to talk to you like a customer would.

Y: Oh, I'm sorry! Majima-san, when you're the one telling me I'm cute, I can't help it... Hahaha.

M: Well, whatever works. At least you're doing okay when it's me you're practicin' with.

Y: Y-Yeah. I used to get nervous even talking to you, Majima-san. But with your help, I feel like... I'm getting it now.

Y: Even the conversations with my customers are getting longer lately. I'm actually starting to have fun at work!

M: That so? What ya been talkin' about?

Y: Everything and nothing. What they've done recently, what they ate... Oh, and hobbies!

M: Hobbies? Yeah, I seem to recall yours was...

> Writing in a diary.

M: ...Writing in a diary, right?

Y: That's right! I've recently started keeping a log of the customers I get each day, and I note all of their unique qualities and conversation topics.

M: Ah, that's some nice dedication to your customers. Way to go, Yuki-chan.

Y: I know my customer service skills aren't that great yet, so I thought I'd do what I can to get better.

Y: Well, I'm still working at it. I know I've got room to grow.

M: Hey, that's some good stuff right there, Yuki-chan. You've come a real long way.

> Bonsai.

M: It was bonsai, right?

Y: Wow, Majima-san, you actually remembered I raise bonsai? That's amazing! I only mentioned it briefly, didn't I?

M: Heh. When you're working at a cabaret club, a steel trap memory is half the battle.

Y: That's true. I found myself forgetting little things, so I started keeping a log of my customers' unique qualities and conversation topics in my diary.

M: Ahh, so now you've practically got a case file on your customers. Way to go, Yuki-chan.

Y: I know my customer service skills aren't that great yet, so I thought I'd do what I can to get better.

Y: Well, I'm still working at it. I know I've got room to grow.

M: Hey, that's some good stuff right there, Yuki-chan. You've come a real long way.

> Reading self-help books.

M: ...Reading relationship self-help books, right?

Y: N-No, it isn't! I mean, I guess I did read one. Once.

M: Yeah, what was the line you fed me? “Meat and potatoes are the quickest way to a man's heart!” Somethin' like that?

Y: Ahhhhh! Seriously! Just forget about that, please!

M: Heh heh heh.

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M: So, the club's come quite a long way, hasn't it? And you've been here since the beginning to see it all change.

Y: Yes, right. I've only been here for six months, though. I graduated from college just this year.

M: Yeah, remember when this place had three girls in it, including you?

M: So tell me somethin'. Why's a girl like you working in a club like this, anyway?

Y: Th-That's because...

M: Last time I asked, ya clammed up just like this. Maybe it's time ya cleared the air.

Y: ...... (uehh..)

Y: I... I couldn't find a job.

M: Eh?

Y: After I graduated from college, my job search was going nowhere, and I couldn't find anything!

M: Really? In this day and age? Companies are practically hirin' bums off the street, and you couldn't get a bite?

Y: I-It's true! I'm a pathetic woman who couldn't get an offer from a single company!

Y: I do pretty well on written tests, but I get nervous easily, so I'm terrible at interviews. I'm not a good liar like most people are, either.

Y: *sighs* I'm a real loser, aren't I?

> They were clueless.

M: Lettin' someone like you slip through the cracks was a mistake, Yuki-chan. Those fool companies were clueless.

Y: What?

M: Look around ya. It's the times we're in. Everybody's dressed to the nines in lies and vanity, tryin' to one up the competition.

M: But you don't do that. You just put yourself out there the way ya are, honest almost to a fault.

M: I wanna work with people I can believe in. I'd hire an awkward gal who can't tell a lie over a buncha smooth-talkin' succubi any day of the week.

Y: Majima-san, you've made me so happy. I... faced a lot of rejection, but in the end, I'm glad I got to work here.

M: Really?

Y: Yes. Otherwise, I never would have learned to talk to people like this. And I met you, Majima-san, along with everyone else here.

M: Well then, I'm glad ya got rejected too. If you weren't here at the club, who knows what woulda happened.

Y: I'm glad I'm awkward.

> Honesty is a talent.

M: I'd say bein' unable to tell a lie is actually a pretty positive quality, Yuki-chan.

Y: What?

M: Look around ya. It's the times we live in. Everybody's dressed to the nines in lies and vanity, tryin'to one up the competition.

M: But you don't do that. You just put yourself out there the way ya are, honest almost to a fault.

M: I wanna work with people I can believe in. I'd hire an awkward gal who can't tell a lie over a buncha smooth-talkin' succubi any day of the week.

Y: Majima-san, you've made me so happy. I... faced a lot of rejection, but in the end, I'm glad I got to work here.

M: Really?

Y: Yes. Otherwise, I never would have learned to talk to people like this. And I met you, Majima-san, along with everyone else here.

M: Well then, I'm glad ya got rejected too. If you weren't here at the club, who knows what woulda happened.

Y: I'm glad I'm awkward.

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M: So how'd it happen? I imagine ya musta met Youda-chan somehow, eh?

Y: Yeah. I was spacing out at a park by myself. I shudder to think what would've happened if he didn't approach me.

M: Interesting. I wonder what possessed Youda-chan to roll up on you.

Y: I remember him saying, “There's something brilliant within you! You're the kind of girl that only appears once in a decade!” That's Youda-san for you.

M: Oh. Uhh... I see.

Y: Youda-san is a really bad judge of character, isn't he?

M: Nah, nah, I disagree.

M: So, Yuki-chan, if you could get a normal day job now, would ya still wanna go do that instead of the cabaret club?

Y: I don't know. Until recently, I really wanted to quit this job, to be honest.

Y: But now, I want to see what I can make of myself at this club for a while.

M: I see.

Y: Of course, at some point I'd like to resume my job search and try to get an office job.

Y: But, this club is a comfortable place to be, and I learn so much every day. So I'm thinking maybe I should grow up a little more here before I start looking again.

> You gotta get sexier.

M: If that's the case, your next goalpost's gotta be sexiness.

Y: Me, s-sexy? Why's that?

M: Considering the world we live in, bein' sexy is a great way to land an interview. Women got some tools men don't, so ain't no harm in usin' em.

Y: I-I see. That makes sense. Maybe I failed my interviews because I wasn't sexy enough.

M: Yeah, maybe that was the problem. And maybe a bunch of other things, too...

M: Nothin' better than an interviewer flustered by a sexy woman, though. He's tryin' to ask ya questions when all he really wants to know is the color of your damn underwear!

Y: O-Okay! But I wouldn't want to answer that question...

> You can network here!

M: Ya never know, one of your clients could turn out to be a corporate manager.

Y: What?

M: If he likes ya, he might offer you a job right there on the spot. Haha.

Y: Whaaat? Though I guess that does happen in manga!

Y: Wh-What would I do? I'm getting nervous just thinking about it...

M: Hey, relax, Yuki-chan. Lay your best line on me.

Y: Wh-What can I do for you Mr. President... My name Yuki... It nice to meet you...

M: Oh man, you sound more nervous than a foreigner on her first day at a shady bar.

> I'll work ya hard!

M: Nice. But fair warning, I'm gonna put the screws to ya!

Y: Y-Yes! I'm looking forward to it! I'll work hard!

M: Heh. You've changed, Yuki-chan. Look at that confidence. I bet you'd ace a company interview now.

Y: R-Really? Heh heh... Hahahaha.

M: ...Just make sure ya don't laugh like that at the interview, or they'll boot ya right out.

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M: Alright, let's call it a day. Good job, Yuki-chan.

Y: Sure. Thank you very much. Whew... Now I'm getting sleepy all of a sudden, now that I can relax. *yawn*

M: You gettin' enough sleep at night, Yuki-chan?

Y: Oh, y-yes. I just had an unexpected guest over last night, so...

M: Oh, I see. A late night guest, eh? Well, now.

Y: Huh? What is it?

> A lady needs sleep.

M: Nothin', nothin'. Just get your beauty sleep, Yuki-chan.

M: Lack of sleep's bad for the skin! And it's doubly bad if ya fall asleep on the job.

Y: Y-Yes! Thanks for your concern. They say nothing's more important to a woman than her skin, after all. And it would be rude to the customer. I'll be careful!

M: Yeah, nothin' wrong with going out for a night on the town. Just don't overdo it, right?

Y: Huh? Going out? I don't really understand, but, anyway, I'll get more sleep!

> I wish ya the best.

M: Well then, Yuki-chan, I wish ya nothin' but happiness.

Y: Huh? Wh-What are you talking about? I don't understand what you're getting at!

M: It's okay, it's no problem. A bit of a shame, I guess, but if you're happy, I'm happy too.

Y: Um, uh. Thank you? Well, I am happy. I guess I'll keep on being happy!

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M: Okay, I think that'll do it.

Y: Th-Thank you for the lesson.

M: Sure thing. Good job.

#cabaret club czar #yakuza 0 #goro majima #yuki #club sunshine

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vorta-whore · 4 years

Text

Personal Log of First Ridok’tala

Notes from the personal log of one Jem’Hadar First in the early days of his species’ initiation into the Dominion, detailing his dealings with a particular Vorta by the name of Weyoun.

Weyoun 1 x Jem’Hadar OC

Entries 1-5 | Entry 6 | Interlude | Entry 7 | Audio File Review

First’s log, personal. Stardate 01.651.7.

It is not my place to question the will of the Founders in any capacity. But I have found myself irritated lately at every turn due to this most recent change. Each rotation of our crew seems to be ordered just as we had begun to develop the efficiency of a cohesive unit. It seems every other week I am staring into a room full of unfamiliar faces. How am I to maintain trust and respect within my unit – loyalty among my men – if they are perpetually strangers among the ship? Moreover, how am I to develop an understanding of how best to serve my field supervisor if I am given no time to establish a working relationship with them before I am whisked away to another assignment?

It has been an acceptable-enough series of reviews from each supervisor so far – I would not be First if they did not recognize my ambition – but I am not given enough time to develop to the best of my abilities. I do not think this current system is conducive to allowing me to serve my Founders adequately. But there is no channel for me to voice these thoughts; it is the will of the Founders and so it is done. I will endeavor to do my best regardless of the circumstances.

First’s log, personal. Stardate 01.653.4.

Field Supervisor Keevan, to my great relief, was promoted to Sixth Fleet Overseer and so we were reassigned once more. It is jarring to be shuffled around so much, but I am happy to be free of that ship. I and my new unit have been placed under the command of a Vorta named Weyoun.

Over the course of my five years of life I have known many Vorta. They do not differ very much from one another. They display cunning, pettiness, manipulation. Their dealings with us are tinged with disdain and contempt. Some, like Overseer Keevan, even tend toward outright abuse.

This Vorta is very different.

He greeted my men kindly and in his voice I detected none of the usual hints of sarcasm. He has so far been patient as the crew has spent time becoming acquainted with the new ship over the past several days. He has not leveraged the White as punishment, which by this point into an assignment would usually have transpired at least twice.

I am not used to such...soft leadership. None of us are. The men don’t quite know how to respond and nor do I. But to say this is an unwelcome change would be a lie. I look forward to seeing how the situation develops.

First’s log, personal. Stardate 01.662.8.

My men try their best. They really do. We are all still trying to adjust to this new order of things, Vorta and Jem’Hadar alike; it will take time for the road to become smooth of obstacles. Remnants of our previous life in Jem’Hadarian society, before the Uplifting, still linger in the fringes of our species’ subconscious. We had no need to forge alliances; matters were handled simply, with action rather than with words. And when words were required, they were not tempered with tact or subtlety. But now, before the elegant, intellectual Vorta, my people appear clumsy, uncertain. They interrupt at inconvenient times. They convey rudeness and disrespect where none was intended. They respond to every conflict with violence. It is no wonder the Vorta perceive us as nothing more than feral beasts.

Weyoun does not seem to hold this opinion. It is difficult to tell exactly what opinion he holds of us, but I do not think it is negative. There is a degree of...respect in our interactions. He does not pry for details when I assure him I will see to a matter, looking for holes to poke as the other Vorta have. He has allowed me to handle all disciplinary actions and to my knowledge has not been unsatisfied by the results. He welcomes my input in combat situations and, on one occasion, even thanked me for it.

The men are appreciative as well. He is endlessly patient with their social fumblings. He has not threatened to withhold the White at any point and does not treat the ritual as a burden. I have made it clear to my crew that we are to reciprocate this respect by striving to improve ourselves and our conduct as much as possible. For their part, they have shown progress. I caught two of them yesterday practicing conversational skills. This morning I overheard my Fourth advising the Fifth on techniques he utilizes to quell his anger in inappropriate situations. I have every confidence my people can grow to become something more than the dogs at the Vorta’s heel; if only there existed more supervisors like Weyoun to encourage this development to foster.

First’s log, personal. Stardate 01.670.1.

I have been steeling myself for some time for another reassignment, but our orders have not changed since we boarded this vessel. This afternoon, while discussing tactics with Supervisor Weyoun, I made an offhand comment about the matter – another small luxury afforded by the supervisor’s lenient attitude – and he responded with nonchalance that he had personally requested he be allowed to keep his current crew, at least until the next rotation cycle. I wished to know his reasons for doing so, but out of fear of impoliteness I did not press the matter. Still, I remain curious. Perhaps it is related in some way to the recent change in his mannerisms; I have noticed his smiling growing more frequent as well as a tendency to hold eye contact with me for lengthier periods of time. Perhaps he is simply becoming comfortable with my company.

First’s log, personal. Stardate 01.673.9.

My men and I underwent an exercise in patience today. Weyoun found himself engaged in animated discussion with a foreign dignitary at the usual time of the White distribution. I do not know if he had mistimed his communication or simply did not plan for it to take quite so long, but it does not matter; we needed the White. No matter how anxious my men grew, however, I did not allow them to interrupt the proceedings. After several hours the Vorta finally stepped away and I immediately made him aware of our need, which he wasted no time addressing.

However, there was an...incident.

Some malfunction caused the lockbox containing our White to fail to open. After several unsuccessful tries, Weyoun admitted with apprehension that he could not produce the White, and my Fifth lost his patience.

The Fifth has had a difficult time adjusting. More so than the others. I was unfortunate enough to serve beside him under Keevan’s command and I witnessed firsthand the injustices he’d suffered as the Vorta’s “favorite.” The experience has left him scarred and he refuses to accept that Weyoun’s kindness is genuine. He can see only snakes in the grass.

This happenstance seemed, to him, evidence to justify his mistrust. He accused the Vorta of toying with us purposely just before he lunged. I caught him easily and no harm was done – moreover I do not believe he was aiming to actually attack the supervisor. But such a display of threat was still unacceptable. I punished him by denying him today’s supply of White, since it was the cause of his unruliness. He will have to learn to deal with his emotions when they are not easily controlled.

Perhaps it was a soft punishment, but I do not feel the need to tarnish the admiration my men are beginning to develop for me with unnecessarily severe consequences. Time will tell if it is a successful tactic. I am only grateful to be able to serve on a ship that tolerates such experimental leadership methodology.

Weyoun, for his part, was sufficiently grateful for my interjection. He did not say as much but it was clear in his eyes. Times such as those remind the Vorta of their nature as prey animals, alone on a ship of predators, and though it is rare for Jem’Hadar to utilize violence against their superiors, it is not unheard of. Sometimes I pity them for this.

Weyoun was able to get the lockbox operational again and he delegated out the White. As I was leaving we had a strange interaction. He stopped me – first to ask if he could speak to me about a personal subject, a qualifier with which most would not be deigned to bother – and upon my approval, asked me to describe what it feels like to crave Ketracel White.

At first I did not know how to answer. The feeling is intrinsic to a Jem’Hadar warrior, and no other race has ever had interest in the process. I have never had need to put it into words. But I found some that I believe did the concept justice. I described to him the anxiety that fills us when we are without it. The thirst that becomes, eventually, overwhelming. The inability to focus on anything else. These things he seemed to understand. But I do not know if he truly appreciated the extent to which I emphasized the sensation of a hit of White. How it rushes one’s veins – fills one with warmth, with clarity, with life. There is no feeling like it in the world. Not even killing.

He seemed distracted as he considered my words. Then, inexplicably, he approached me and touched a hand upon my abdomen. I allowed it, but did not understand the gesture, and when I asked for clarification upon its significance he withdrew, apologized, and dismissed me.

I do not understand Weyoun in the slightest. I wonder if perhaps he is abnormal in some way. But I am finding more every day that my curiosity outweighs my apprehension. I am eager to see how these events will continue to unfold.

#@weyoun-9 and i started this ship and now it's the only one i want to sail #expect more of these as we write more in the rp LMAO #ds9 #star trek #fanfic #vorta #weyoun #jem'hadar #series #weyoun x jem'hadar

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abcdefghijklmnopqrstuvwxyzpcc · 3 years

Text

Macarthur: A Grim Portrayal of Philippine Poverty

⠀ ⠀ Written by Bob Ong, Macarthur is a novel that follows the lives of a group of friends who have to deal with their own flaws: Cyrus, Noel, Jim, and Voltron. Although he is known for his works themed after satire and humor, Bob Ong deviated from his usual formula to produce a novel depicting life in a Filipino slum community. The story opens with one of the main characters getting chased after stealing and swallowing an expensive necklace. He eventually gets caught by a corrupt policeman and is forced to defecate and hand over the stolen piece of jewelry. Macarthur can create very believable scenarios that everyone in the Philippines knows actually happen in real life. As a result, the novel is able to develop most of its cast of characters in a realistic way to show how miserable and tragic lives in the slums of the Philippines are.

⠀ ⠀ Education was one of the ideas contained in the novel. In particular, many mentions of education were from Cyrus or his grandfather, Mang Justo. When the four boys were at the fair, Cyrus asked his friends whether or not they wanted to turn their lives around, and uttered the following quote: “If I had finished my studies, I and Tatay [Mang Justo] would be rich now.”1 This dream for a proper education, along with something he had said earlier about building a business to buy a big TV and cook Tinola for his grandfather, showed that Cyrus had a will to turn his life around. Unfortunately, due to society, he had not been able to continue with this dream. It shows that many people are willing to change for the better, but they have no means.

⠀ ⠀ Later, when Noel and Mang Justo had a heart-to-heart talk about life, the topic of the discussion shifted to Noel’s education. At one point, Noel said that he wanted to return to school, but he did not know where to start. To this, Mang Justo responds: “You’ll only have to study for twenty years. You have to be able to endure that much, otherwise you’ll have to suffer for fifty years instead.”2 Having regret for himself and worry for the boy, he relayed this powerful analogy that emphasizes the importance of proper education. Overall, it can be seen that Mang Justo is a very empathetic man shown to have elder wisdom coming from his experiences in poverty and the successes of his children.

⠀ ⠀ Another theme that the novel tries to tackle is the idea of expectations. The characters in the novel are shown to have their own hopes and dreams. Through the eyes of the characters, we see how each of them struggles in order to achieve their goals. As previously mentioned, Cyrus and Noel had aspirations for their futures. Unfortunately, we see both of these characters’ aspirations come crashing down by the end of the novel due to the circumstances they have been exposed to. It shows the grim reality of the life of those who live in poverty. Jim can also be seen being affected by said circumstances. Due to poverty, he and his wife struggle to raise their child. One scene in the novel shows the two arguing with each other. Olive, Jim’s wife, was unsatisfied with the life they were living; Jim did not meet her expectations.3

⠀ ⠀ Voltron is another example of failed expectations in the novel. His mother, Aling Seding, was said to have high expectations of him—a fact that was shown by the name his mother had given to him. His legal name, Amadeus, was never used to refer to him in the entire span of the novel. He was commonly referred to as either Voltron or Denver, Voltron being used by his close friends and Denver being used either by his mother or colleagues. The name Amadeus may actually refer to the famous composer Wolfgang Amadeus Mozart, who was a child prodigy. This name represents the expectations that Aling Seding once had when Voltron was younger. At one part of the story, Voltron, together with his friends and mother, were having a drinking session. While having their chat, Voltron’s mother happened to say a comment in passing. She called Voltron a punyeta (roughly translated to asshole), saying that she had put so much effort for him to go to school, disappointed at the fact that he dropped out.4 This being said, the only people who refer to Voltron as Denver were people who did not think that highly of him. Besides his mother, only his colleagues, who were implied to be doing illegal activities, were the ones who referred to him as Denver. These colleagues obviously do not think highly of him; it was implied that these people were responsible for Voltron’s death. If these people did actually respect Voltron, they would not have let him die. His third name, Voltron, is an obvious reference to the animated television show of the same name. Voltron (the character in the novel), was described to have a bumpy chest, a small head, and big limbs. His physical appearance is an allusion to the actual television character, having the same physical features. Though, the connection between the two characters does not only end with their physical appearance. The television character Voltron was also commonly referred to as “Defender of The Universe”. As seen in the novel, Voltron wanted to stay away from mischievous activities. After meeting with Edwin, he was described as not wanting to join said activities.5 He can also be seen abstaining from vices his friends do, even going to the point of trying to convince them to do the same.6 From a conversation between Cyrus and Voltron, it can also be seen that Voltron heavily disagrees with Cyrus’ sentiments on stealing. This being said, the parallels between the characters from the television show and the novel can be drawn. Voltron (in the novel) can also be described as the “Defender of the Universe”, the word “universe” referring to his friends. This shows his efforts of trying to protect his friends from bad influences.

⠀ ⠀ Other than education and dreams, poverty and addiction are also very prominent themes in the novel. Owing to poverty, the characters in the story face various problems. Being the eldest son and having a widowed mother, Voltron needs to stand for his other siblings. He needs to borrow money to meet the daily needs of the family and his youngest sibling. Another character, Jim, has an unstable income causing him to quarrel with Olive. In order to have a more decent life, the four main characters have tried to change towards a better path, but were unsuccessful in the end.

⠀ ⠀ Sometimes, people steal in order to survive. Due to the extremely uneven wealth distribution in modern society, people often steal to meet their basic needs such as food and clothing. Stealing seemed to be a daily routine of Cyrus’ life. He told Mang Justo that he has a job, but when Mang Justo asked him about which factory he was employed in, he paused for a few seconds before answering. The “work” he might be referring to is stealing. Although it is a white lie, it also revealed his deceitful behavior.

⠀ ⠀ Many issues arise from addiction as well. Cyrus consumes drugs which leads to the tragedy that happens near the end of the story. Again, Cyrus stole accessories from an ale. However, this time, he stole an accessory for the spendings of Mang Justo’s kidney transplant. Seeing Topak was almost near and reaching him, he went to the comfort room. Cyrus swallowed one of the accessories and kept the other one in his pocket. Then, he took the five packs of shabu from his pocket and consumed them one by one. From this it can be seen that Cyrus usually has drugs with him.

⠀ ⠀ In many cases, addiction is a kind of escape from reality or a short-term sense of security. Through smoking, drugs, drinking alcohol, games, the internet, and other forms of addiction, people get rid of worrying emotions temporarily. In the end, people fall into a brutal cycle and cannot get rid of their vices. Hence, their personality, lifestyles, and people around them will also be affected.

⠀ ⠀ The novel is a realistic portrayal of the life of lower-class Filipinos, revealing many social issues such as poverty, addiction, unemployment, and lack of education. The story showed the qualities, growth, and change of the characters. The four friends represent the young people in Philippine society, with virtuous innate qualities, but inadvertently led down the wrong path, tainted with bad vices. At the same time, they also want to escape from the vicious cycle of poverty, so they reflect on themselves and promise to reform themselves after realizing their mistakes. However, they do not let go of their vices because they think they can control their addiction. Things do not work out the way the friends thought they would, and the story ends as it does in the real world, where not all efforts are rewarded positively.

⠀ ⠀ Not only in the book, but these topics have always been social issues that have been brought up in reality. The author's intention in writing this story is not only to bring up these topics again, but also to warn readers to make every life choice wisely because even a small negligence can affect them. The story of the four friends is fictional, but the people in the real world have only one life to live.

Quote sources

Translated from Filipino. Original quote: “Kung nakapag-aral ako, mayaman kami dapat ngayon ni Tatay.” p. 45.

Translated from Filipino. Original quote: “Dalawang dekada ka lang mag-aaral. Kung di mo pagtitiyagaan, anak, limang dekada ng kahirapan ang kapalit.” p. 87.

“Kumakain tayo, Jim! Nagdadamit tayo. Nagkakasakit tayo. Kailangan natin ng legal na tubig at kuryente. Kailangan mo ng matinong trabaho. Kailangan ni Jon-Jon ng tatay. Kailangan ko ng asawa. Kailangan nating mabuhay! Ito na ba yung rurok ng mga pangarap mo, Jim? Hanggang dito ka na lang ba? Eto na ba yon lahat?!” pp. 37–38.

“Etong si Denver putangina ‘tong batang ‘to pinag-aaral ko dati, sa sabungan naman pala tumutuloy, kaya punyeta ka, sabi ko, huminto ka nalang, wala ka namang pakinabang!” p. 49.

Alam nya ang reputasyon ng kausap. Alam nyang nakakatulong ito sa mga handang magpatulong. At yun ang tanging katarantaduhan sa buhay na kinatatakutan nya ata hangga’t maaari ay gusto sanang iwasan.” p. 25.

“Tarugo kasi kayo, ayaw niyo tigilan mga bisyo nyo e,” p. 15.

Image sources:

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wallofweird · 4 years

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hi fae, how do you feel about people saying that kevin only tolerates madison bc of kate and therefore they won't work? :/

Hi! Well, I think these people are definitely not watching This Is Us (or any type of television, for that matter) or living on Earth. Or seeing and unseeing things according to their pre-established opinions. Either way, that’s absolutely not true. On most of their interactions Kevin is polite, as you can see it here:

I love this part because there are at least three other guests closer to him but she is the first person he offers a glass of champagne... If you pay attention to the scene, he is holding THREE glasses. He gives one to Madison and he puts another on a shelf, I don’t know about the third, but there were definitely more women in the room that could’ve had that(those) glass(es), he just didn’t care, lol. Also, Rebecca is looking and smiling at him, but he doesn’t even notice it because he is too busy looking at Madi... I mean, another direction.

CREDIT: https://thisiskevison.tumblr.com (all the gifs above)

Kevin doesn’t look very happy with the idea of dancing and still he doesn’t protest.

CREDIT: https://madsdefencesquad.tumblr.com/post/616600065662926848/kevin-x-madison-height-difference

This gif doesn’t show it, but he turns his head and watches Madison as she walks away just like on gif number 4.

Siding with her during a conversation with Kate.

CREDIT: https://thisiskevison.tumblr.com (all the gifs above)

Comforting Madison.

CREDIT: https://madsdefencesquad.tumblr.com/post/618991372262916096/kevin-looking-at-madison-nothing-but-blue-skies

He isn’t smiling here, but does this seem to be a person that is annoyed with the other? He has soft, delicate, gentle eyes while looking at her.

And this whole thing about Kevin despising Madison and only tolerating her because of Kate is even more ridiculous because on this scene he is basically begging her to invite him to come inside.

CREDIT: https://madsdefencesquad.tumblr.com/post/616600065662926848/kevin-x-madison-height-difference

If he thought her company was so unpleasant, why would he accept it in the first place? He could’ve left and gone to Rebecca’s house instead, or come back after Toby got back from work, he could’ve called Randall, or Nicky, or simply gone somewhere else to make new friends because it’s not like struggles when he socializes with strangers.

And here is what Madison had to say about her night with him:

CREDIT: https://thisiskevison.tumblr.com/post/617836054621339648/do-you-want-to-know-why-i-think-i-slept-with

He made her feel comfortable enough to be her true self and he ended up spending at least a few hours with Madison. He spent the night at her place and only left the next morning... If her presence were so repellent, why didn’t he leave after the sex? Madison didn’t point a gun at him and forced him to stay. Even after he woke up, he kept lying next to her on the bed without a shirt on... Plus, there was the option of leaving without saying anything while she was asleep, but he didn’t do that.

Actually, the only time I believe Kevin was rude to her was at the hospital, but you have to analyze the context: his sister went into early labor, there was an endless list of possible complications to the baby and herself, it took hours until Kevin got some information, Kevin had been drinking, he was dealing with his failed attempt to connect with his uncle, the frustration of having relapsed after an entire year of being sober, feeling guilty for lying to everyone about it and the fear of losing Zoe because of those lies. He was going through A LOT. Those were probably some of the hardest hours of his life. Yet, at first he treated her just fine, it was the fact she wouldn’t stop talking (because that’s the way she was coping with the situation and usually what he does too when he’s sober, btw) that he said those things to her. Now, I don’t drink, but as far as I know people on hangover usually have headaches so it’s not weird that they will avoid noises and I remember Kevin saying a few minutes before that he was on hangover.

I also remember that he immediately regretted it and apologized to Madison, but she didn’t listen and left (I don’t blame her). And when she walked away he was hit by a dose of consciousness and realized his was being “an ass” and apologized to his family. She wasn’t the only one, he was snapping at everybody, because it wasn’t Madison, Randall or anyone else that was annoying him. It wasn’t personal. It was the stress of the entire situation that was making Kevin take it out on everybody. Plus, even though he didn’t specifically snap at Zoe, when he went outside to get some air and clear his head, she offered him company and Kevin shut her out.

CREDIT: https://thisiskevison.tumblr.com/post/618572824853069824/im-sorry-what-exactly-are-you-doing-here

By the way, Kevin bumped into Madison when he was getting out of the elevator and attempted to apologize for a second time.

Another scene people use as an ‘example’ of rudeness is this moment on the season finale, but I sincerely disagree. Here’s why:

Kevin was in the middle of a heated fight with his brother and that was almost getting physical when Madison arrived for the party.

And when she showed up at the door he just told her the truth: it wasn’t a good time.

Now, does that look like an angry, utterly annoyed and disdainful face for you? Because the way I see it, it’s just a guy who’s weary and not in his best state of mind, which is comprehensible since he was in a middle of an argument, his mother’s health is deteriorating, Randall had talked her into doing a clinical trial in the other side of the country despite her previous refusal and that’s just SOME of the heavy stuff he was dealing with at that specific moment.

However, Madison doesn’t bother and enters the place anyway.

And Kevin doesn’t yell at her, protest or leaves, he just lets her in and closes the door.

Again: does this look like he hates Madison so much like some people make it seem?

THIS is being annoyed and/or angry:

CREDIT: https://rostovarps.tumblr.com/post/165520445651/kevin-pearson-in-this-is-us-01x07-the-best

CREDIT: https://adyadintheforce.tumblr.com/post/177326964546/shame-on-all-of-us

And this is just being upset, tired, feeling like all your energy has been drained out of your body:

If you watch the scene, his face on the picture above and on this gif has identical expressions:

CREDIT: https://ltbelanna.tumblr.com/post/189147462109/this-is-us-4x08-sorry-im-sorry-me-too-see

And really, how did these people expect him to react? Did they expect him to smile, kiss her and propose a second round of hookup? His reaction made perfect sense to everything that was happening at the time.

Do they believe things would’ve been different if it had been someone else at the door, like Kate’s neighbor Gregory or somebody from her support group? Do they think that if it had been another person he would’ve hugged them, offer coffee and crack jokes? That the problem was Madison and not the situation he was in with Randall and Rebecca?

Anywaaaay, by the end of their conversation he had already softened up and was even slightly smiling at her.

CREDIT: https://millennial-mess.tumblr.com/post/613565105725194240/im-so-sick-of-chasing-ghosts-im-tired-of

CREDIT: https://madsdefencesquad.tumblr.com/post/620438418688704513/you-da-best

Sure, it wan’t a wide smile because it wasn’t like his problems had disappeared all of a sudden, but he had found a silver lining in the midst of everything.

And being exhausted, upset, annoyed, stressed or angry is part of the human experience and part of being in a relationship of ANY KIND: romantic, platonic, familial. Taking it out on someone can happen sometimes as well. It’s not always sunshine and rainbows. People are not perfect. People are not robots. They navigate through negative feelings and emotions too. It’s how things are in real life and also how things are on television, specially on This Is Us, which is a show that focuses on relationships and emotions.

Jack and Rebecca, Beth and Randall, Kate and Toby, Randall and Kevin, Kevin and Kate, Nicky and Kevin, Kevin and Sophie, William and Randall, Kevin and Cassidy all had moments like this... The list goes on. Would the same people define these relationships/friendships as unsuccessful and fake because of a few unfriendly moments? I doubt it, because what really defines a relationship as healthy and successful is the people’s ability to recognize their own mistakes, forgive each other, work on themselves as individuals and as friends/a couple/a family and getting even closer and stronger after facing the hardships. It’s not smiling, talking, hugging and kissing 24/7 because nobody does that. Maybe for a few days and weeks, but you won’t last even a month behaving like this, let alone YEARS.

And the complications are also what keep the story interesting and engaging. I don’t mean something like toxicity and abuse, but if couples, relatives and friends don’t disagree, argue and face problems out and within their relationship, the show doesn’t go anywhere. There must be conflict. There must be drama. And there must be happiness. It’s about balancing these aspects out.

If they want to watch something that’s always sunshine and rainbows and where the characters are always happy, they should watch a TV show targeted to three-year-old children, because honestly This Is Us has never been and will never be this kind of show.

And we know Kevin has a pregnant fiancee on season 5 and since This Is Us is not a soap opera, I seriously doubt Kevin will go out there impregnating multiple women with multiple children and multiple sets of twins. I reckon it’s safe to say it’s Madison. That means they will go through one of the most amazing and yet vulnerable and challenging experiences two people can ever face and instead of pulling them apart, it will only bring them closer to the point they will get engaged. For me, this sounds like a relationship that is DEFINITELY WORKING.

#kevin pearson #kevison #this is us #sorry I didn't have gifs for everything and this is long lol #anon

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artificialqueens · 4 years

Text

A Chip on My Shoulder (Crystal x Gigi) - Frankenvenus

Summary: After deciding that a childcare career just wasn’t for her, Crystal auditions for a theatre company who are putting on a production of Legally Blonde, and ends up falling for their lead, who happens to turn her nose up at everyone who shows any interest in her - however, she might have a soft spot for the new girl.

…

Crystal had been waiting all summer to find out whether or not she had been accepted into L.A’s prestigious theatre programme ‘Rupaul’s Academy of Performing Arts.’ Her audition had been in late May of 2019, and it had gone seemingly well. She sang the first minute of ‘A Boy Like That’ from West Side Story, as suggested by her mother, though she actually wanted to sing a song from Anastasia. Her mother had told her that Anastasia was far too babyish, and it would only be appropriate if she was auditioning for a role as a princess at Disneyland. She did what her mom said, and successfully hit each note in the audition room. The theatre director watching her seemed pleased. She was optimistic that she would land a place in the company.

She had been studying a college degree in childcare after leaving high school, but she quickly realised that she fucking hated it, she fucking hated little kids, and she really wanted to pursue musical theatre. Her family was overjoyed, to say the least. Her dad had had this ridiculous fantasy that they would become a family band and Crystal would be the next Selena Quintanilla, so he was very supportive of his daughter’s change in aspiration.

The letter arrived on the 1st of September, and Crystal’s mom snatched it out of her daughter’s hands before she could open it. The woman was insistent in finding out first.

She dragged her sharp nails across the top of the envelope, opening it in the most inefficient way possible. She had a large smile across her face, simply knowing that her daughter was going to be accepted.

“Mom could I-” Crystal tried to take the letter into her own hands but her mom slapped her fingers away.

“Basta ya, I can do it myself,” she sighed, yanking the letter from the envelope and unfolding it, “Dear Crystal Elizabeth,” she sang, her voice filled with hope, “We regret to inform you that you have been unsuccessful in the selection of this year’s cast…” her mom quickly slammed the letter against the table and left the room leaving Crystal alone to finish reading it through watery eyes.

“We were overwhelmed with this year’s talent and wholeheartedly suggest you try again next year. We urge you not to give up on your theatrical dream as there are always other opportunities- this is the letter they send to everyone who failed, why am I reading this?” she sniffled, pushing it down on the table as her mom walked back in.

“It’s that blue hair of yours, Crystal, I know it. Maybe if you had kept it brown then they would’ve accepted you.”

“Si mamá,” she sighed, wiping her eyes and picking up her phone which was face-down on the table in front.

In that next moment, she thanked the gods and Mark Zuckerberg for listening in to her conversations, because an advert notification popped up on her screen when she opened Instagram.

Stephanie’s Child School of Theatrical Arts - Walk-in auditions September 8th - Anyone is welcome - Headshots NOT obligatory - Bring your own sheet music!

Crystal kissed her phone and rushed to her laptop, printing out the sheet music to ‘Journey to the Past’ from Anastasia as discreetly as she could. This other theatre school was no Rupaul’s academy, evidently (their advert used comic sans in the title) but she still felt like it was a sign.

After many nights of rehearsing, practice and being told to shut the fuck up by her little brother, audition day finally came.

She was given a sticker with her name on it upon entry, as well as a number. The school’s studio, where the audition was taking place, seemed quite old and in need of a makeover, but it was homely nonetheless. There were only about ten other people auditioning, unlike Rupaul’s school with over a hundred auditionees. Crystal wondered how many people attending were Rupaul rejects, and it made her uneasy.

After warming up alone by blowing bubbles into her water with a straw for ten minutes, a gleeful looking girl bounced in with lilac-coloured hair.

Thank God - this meant Crystal’s blue hair wouldn’t be an issue when being accepted.

“Hey, people! My name is Jan and I am the theatre director here. So we are going to start with number twelve for singing and then work our way down, and then you’re going to learn some choreo for a dance call!” she beamed, gripping her clipboard aggressively.

A dance call? Have mercy.

Crystal was number eight, which meant that it wouldn’t be long before she was called in to sing. She bounced her leg tensely, watching one girl begin to stretch in the corner of the room. Her name tag read ‘Jaida,’ and she had come in a leotard and jazz shoes - more prepared than Crystal.

After a minute of staring, Jaida caught her, before smiling and approaching her.

“Hey, girl! You threatened?” the girl asked sternly, causing Crystal’s heart to drop. Oh no, she had already made a bad impression.

“I- no… sorry I-” she was cut off with a laugh from the tall brunette in front of her.

“I’m just fuckin’ with you. Hi, I’m Jaida. And you are…” her eyes trailed to the shorter girl’s name tag, “Crystal. Cute. What are you singing?”

“Journey to the Past from Anastasia,” Crystal spoke nervously, fumbling with the pages of her sheet music.

“Awe, bless you,” Jaida chuckled, placing a hand over her heart, “I’m singing Aquarius from Hair. Also don’t look so nervous, sweetie. My friends Heidi and Jackie go here, and they say it’s super chill. Plus - you look talented.”

Crystal blushed, “Thank you. So do you!”

Jan walked back into the room with her clipboard in hand, “Can number ten follow me please?”

Jaida’s breath hitched as she shuffled across the room to grab her sheet music. She quickly winked at Crystal before disappearing into the other room. The blue-haired girl could hear the large rumble of the grand piano, but was disappointed that she couldn’t hear Jaida’s voice. The girl seemed enticing.

It wasn’t long before Crystal was being called through. She smiled shyly while she placed her music down in front of the pianist, who was a cheerful-looking girl with heavy makeup on and large glasses. Her name tag read ‘Rock,’ and Crystal whispered a small thank you to her before taking her spot in front of Jan and another woman, who was taking notes.

“Hello, my name is Crystal Elizabeth and I will be singing ‘Journey to the Past’ from Anastasia,” she began, suddenly regaining her confidence as the soft piano began. She was Crystal Elizabeth, high school salutatorian and a killer mezzo-soprano. She belted the song with a passion she had never felt before, and she left everyone else in the room blown away after the final note.

“That’s some voice you have there, Miss Elizabeth,” Jan smiled, clapping softly, “You are very talented.”

“Thank you so much.”

Much to Crystal’s surprise, the dance call went well. She managed to pick up Jan’s choreography easily, and Jaida assisted her with the few moves she couldn’t quite get.

She left the audition that night with the biggest smile she had sported in a while.

…

Unlike Rupaul’s Academy of Performing Arts, the letter from Stephanie’s Child came quickly. It arrived in the mail less than a month after Crystal’s audition. Her mom wasn’t so eager to be first to open it after last time, so Crystal took the duty of prying open the envelope.

“Crystal Elizabeth, We at Stephanie’s Child School of Theatrical Arts are delighted to inform you that you will be joining this year’s cast and programme. We loved your audition and we would love to hear even more from you, so we can’t wait to see you in rehearsals for our winter production of Legally Blonde starting this Wednesday, and we’d love to see you audition for a role!” Crystal read it out shakily, fireworks exploding in her chest.

First of all, she got in! She was so thankful and even more thrilled that she was finally able to make her mom proud. Second of all, they were doing Legally Blonde which was beyond iconic.

…

It was the first day of rehearsals, and Crystal was almost more nervous than she was for her initial audition. She caked her face in makeup and put her hair into two low pigtails, hoping to impress her fellow castmates.

She was told by the receptionist to sign her name in at the door, so she doodled ‘Crystal Elizabeth’ with a heart on the ‘i’ before smiling at the sight of the name ‘Jaida Hall’ above her own. It was great that she had a familiar face going in.

When she entered the studio, she felt all eyes on her. It was a large dance studio with mirrors on two sides of the room, a grand piano in one corner, and tap dancing mats stacked up in another.

There were about four prominent friend groups across the room, but Crystal drifted over to Jaida, where she stood with a short girl with black hair and a large gap tooth and a taller girl with a hijab and high dancing heels on.

“Crystal! You got in!” Jaida squealed, pulling the blue-haired girl into an unexpected hug.

“Yeah, I’m really surprised. Everyone here looks so professional!” Crystal giggled, her voice cracking slightly under the pressure.

“Trust and believe - we are far from professional,” the girl with the gap snorted, “I’m Heidi! It’s great to meet you.”

“And I’m Jackie,” the girl with the hijab greeted, “Jaida was telling us how good your singing audition was.”

Crystal’s eyes widened as she looked to the brunette, “You could hear me?”

“I may or may not have stood by the door. You have pipes, girl.”

“So you have a high belt, hm?” Heidi asked with a glint in her eye.

“Yeah, I guess so…”

“Well, you’re gonna have to compete with Gigi for the part of Elle then…” Jackie smirked, pointing across the room.

Crystal averted her gaze to where the girl pointed, and suddenly she felt abruptly light-headed.

There stood a remarkably tall redhead with perfectly curled hair tossed over one shoulder, warming up into a belt box that she held to her mouth, as many surrounding girls watched, mesmerized.

“I just know she’s that girl,” Jaida rolled her eyes, “Let me guess - she auditioned with ’Don’t Rain on My Parade.’”

Heidi nearly spat out the water she was drinking, knowing that Jaida had hit the nail on the head.

“She has a three-octave belting range. She’s scary,” Jackie exhaled, patting Heidi’s back gently to stop her from choking.

“She’s hot,” Crystal thought, still watching the girl warm up. Gigi. That was like a model’s name. She wondered what it was short for. Georgia, Regina, Imogen, Virginia, Genevieve, Gianna - It could be anything.

“You’re right, she is hot alright,” Heidi said, causing Crystal’s stomach to plummet because she said that out loud, “But she barely lets anyone touch her. She’s nice and all but - we barely know anything about her - other than her insane range. Her mom is a vocal coach.”

The blue-haired girl frowned. Even though she was still yet to talk to this girl, she wanted to know more about her. She wanted to know everything - because she was a creep. Why did she think she would be different and would somehow succeed in weaving her way into Gigi’s personal life?

“More than half of the people in this room have asked her on a date,” Heidi continued, “But she turned them all down because - and I quote - She’s sorry, she’s too busy, she can get their number in case she changes her mind - but she never does. She could be from another country and we wouldn’t know.”

“She seems pretty bold for a theatre kid,” Jaida snickered, but she was interrupted when Jan began clapping, ushering everyone to the centre of the room.

Crystal followed her new group of friends to a circle of chairs that had been placed in the centre of the room. She was sure she recalled auditioning for a musical theatre school - not a group therapy session.

She took a seat between Jackie and Jaida, and Gigi sat across from them, conversing to a friend who Crystal recognised to be Rock - the pianist from her audition.

“Hey everyone! I’m so excited to welcome all these new faces to our company! There are about five new people in the room, so one by one I want you all to stand up and tell everyone your name, your favourite role you’ve ever played and your dream role,” Jan explained gleefully. There was something about the lilac-haired woman that brightened up the room a little bit.

Jaida was first to stand up, puffing her chest out like the proud woman she was. Crystal just knew she was a professional and she’d be in her element at this academy.

“My name is Jaida, the best role I have played was Deloris is my senior year’s production of Sister Act and my dream role is Bonnie Parker from Bonnie and Clyde.”

Everyone had small discussions about how they would kill to play Deloris or how Bonnie was the hottest role on Broadway, but then it was the next newbie’s turn.

“My name is Widow - the best role I played was Donna in my community theatre’s production of Mamma Mia, but my dream role is Regina George and I live by that.”

Many girls in the circle whooped and cheered for her, and Crystal already felt like she was part of such a tight-knit family. She wallowed in her happiness until she realised that it was her turn to speak. She stood from her chair with shaky legs, and Gigi watched her with a curious glance that she couldn’t quite read. She bit her lip, placed her hands behind her back, rocked back and forth on her feet, and spoke.

“Um, my name is Crystal and my favourite role that I played was Heather McNamara in Heathers and I think my dream role is Eva Peron in Evita or maybe Nina from In The Heights? I don’t know… I don’t have the best theatre knowledge. I don’t have a BFA or anything I-”

Jan chuckled slightly, smiling at Crystal, “I promise that you know more shows than some people I know. My mom only knows Grease, no matter how many show tunes I play her in the car.”

Crystal reacted with a soft giggle, a blush covering her face when she noticed Gigi resting her chin on her fist, staring up at her with a fascinated look. The blue-haired girl wanted to stare back, but that meant eye contact, and she wasn’t prepared for that. She sat herself back down as the next girl stood up.

“Bonjour, my name is Nicky,” her accent was heavy, and no one had to ask to know she was from France, but she brought it up anyway, “I moved here from Paris a couple of months ago, my favourite role I’ve played was Velma in Chicago, and my dream role is Velma in Chicago, except this time, on Broadway.”

Crystal heard Jaida say ‘I feel you girl’ and smiled at the thought of Nicky and Jaida being Roxie and Velma. It would be iconic.

The final girl stood up - she was tall and lanky but had the coolest hair Crystal had ever seen. She had pink dreadlocks, half wrapped in a bun at the top of her head.

“I’m Yvie. My favourite role I played was Elphaba in my community theatre’s production of Wicked but my dream role is probably Persephone from Hadestown.”

Crystal wanted to sink into her seat. Where she had grown up, in Missouri, she had been a big fish in a small pond. The girls at her high school just wanted to sing Britney Spears, and didn’t care for theatre - but Crystal had taught herself to belt. There weren’t any belters where she was from, but now, in New York, it seemed that that was all there was.

She had zoned out from the group’s conversation for a while, lost in her own many insecure thoughts. Now she was just a small speck of dust in a city full of dreamers. Everyone was fighting for a role on broadway. What made her different?

She was so focused on her own insecurities that she hardly noticed a hand being held in front of her. It was pale and delicate - so it wasn’t Jaida. Her brown-eyed gaze moved upwards, stifling a gasp when she saw Gigi in front of her.

“Hello?” was all she could muster out. She felt humiliated afterwards. Jan had definitely set a task that she hadn’t listened to, “Sorry I- I kinda wasn’t focused when Jan was explaining whatever we were doing could you, uhm, fill me in?”

Gigi smiled a toothy smile, and Crystal was so thankful she got to see her this close, even though the scenario was embarrassing. Her nose was slender as it went down but kissable at the bottom. Her eyes were large and blue and overwhelmingly bright, guarded by thin-framed circular glasses. Her features were quite androgynous, with a sharp jawline and defined cheekbones, and Crystal’s brain was short-circuiting.

“Yeah, I figured you zoned out,” she smirked, “Basically Jan paired all of the new girls with old members, and we have to give you a tour of the building and I got paired with you! I’m Gigi.”

Crystal thanked the Gods for the blessing that was this girl, “Lucky me!” she blurted, and quickly Gigi’s fair skin turned rosy.

From Jackie and Heidi’s description, the blue-haired girl had been quick to assume that Gigi carried a coldness to her. This wasn’t the case, as the redhead hadn’t stopped grinning since Crystal introduced herself.

“So, you seemed to like my dream roles,” Crystal chuckled, making conversation whilst Gigi showed her around the ground floor juice bar, “What are your dream roles? And what roles have you played? Where are you even from?”

“Lots of questions,” Gigi joked, buying two beetroot juices for her and Crystal, “I’m from L.A, but don’t tell anyone. New Yorkers hate us L.A folks. I’ve lived here for a year now, and it’s cool. My dream role is probably Audrey from Little Shop of Horrors or like… Penny from Hairspray. I’ve been in so many shows like Cabaret, The Last Five Years, Pippin, but the best role I played was Heather Chandler in Heathers.”

In the next moment, Crystal wished that she wasn’t such a deep thinker. Often she would think out loud by mistake, and this was one of those times.

“That’s hot,” she gushed, without a single formed thought

“So I’ve heard,” Gigi held back laughter, and Crystal wanted to succumb, “Unfortunately, I don’t remember the part when Chandler and McNamara get together.”

The blue-haired girl made a swift attempt to steer the conversation in a different direction, so she said the first thing that came to mind, “You don’t seem bitchy enough to play Chandler.”

Fuck. That wasn’t a good way to steer the conversation either.

“Well, there’s a lot you don’t know about me…” Gigi deadpanned.

Crystal sighed and looked down at her juice, “At least tell me what Gigi is short for.”

The redhead rolled her eyes before casually leaning in and whispering in the shorter girl’s ear, her cool breath hitting the side of her face.

“Giselle.”

…

Audition day for their parts in the show came quicker than Crystal had hoped. She was fully prepared the day she was given the materials, but her self-doubt caused her to be extremely nervous.

Crystal didn’t know what was worse; the fact that they had to watch everyone else’s auditions or the fact that practically everyone was auditioning for Elle.

Luckily for her, Jaida volunteered to go first. The blue-haired girl was terrified of being selected from the group. No one had heard her voice yet, other than Jaida.

Jaida fucking nailed ‘So Much Better’ as if the song was written for her. The girl carried herself like a Tony winner, and Crystal wouldn’t be surprised if that was the road she took. Her acting was dramatic and eccentric, evidently theatrically trained rather than for film. Her audition ended with applause, and it was Jackie’s turn next.

Jackie was one of the few people not auditioning for the lead and was instead auditioning for Paulette, the hairdresser. Over the few weeks she had been there, Crystal acknowledged that Jackie was the mom of the group - the glue that held the theatre divas together. The girl embodied the role of Paulette perfectly.

Crystal then realised that Jan was staring right at her, and as soon as Jackie finished her final note, the director called her up to sing next. The tanned girl nodded, fiddling with her script just to scan over one more line before placing it down.

“Can I quickly grab some water?” she asked, partly because her throat was dry but mostly because she was stalling. Jan nodded with a sigh, and Crystal rushed out of the room. What she didn’t expect was for Gigi to follow her.

As she was filling up the small paper cup with room temperature water, she felt a hand on her back. She turned around, careful not to spill her drink, and saw the redhead standing there with a look of concern.

“You don’t need to stall,” Gigi assured, her hand not moving from it’s position just below Crystal’s shoulder, “You’re here for a reason. They wouldn’t let you in if you sang like shit.”

The shorter girl scoffed, “I have my good days and I have my bad days. Today is not a good day.”

She found her breathing getting worryingly rapid, like she was verging on a panic attack. It was eased when Gigi placed her free hand on the other side of her back and held her there, going through some quick breathing exercises. The redhead told her to inhale and exhale before dragging her back into the audition room.

“I am Crystal Elizabeth and I’ll be auditioning for Elle Woods,” she glanced over at Gigi and saw the girl give her a discreet thumbs-up. The entire endeavour from the last few minutes just hit her. Gigi had spoken to her, touched her, and calmed her down, despite keeping her distance from her after that first day. The validation from Gigi bloomed butterflies of dignity in her chest, and she nailed her audition, personifying the strong, ambitious lady that was Elle Woods.

The fact that she hit each note perfectly boosted her hope that she could land this role, but what increased her faith the most was the smile Gigi sported the entire time.

Gigi’s audition swept Crystal off her feet, even though she was sitting down. Her voice was like silk, her vibrato was perfect and she hit and held the final high note like it was the simplest thing she’d ever done. Crystal was in the right mind to give the girl a standing ovation, but she didn’t want to discourage those yet to audition. Instead, she let out a gentle squeal when Gigi returned to her seat.

“That was insane,” Crystal mouthed to the girl, who was sitting two metres away, with Widow and Nicky keeping them separated.

The redhead mouthed something back, but Crystal couldn’t identify what it was. It was either ‘Thank you, honey’which was cute, or ‘Thank you, baby’ which would’ve literally killed Crystal.

…

If she was being honest, Crystal didn’t want to look at the cast list. Although she would always be delighted to be in the cast at all, if she landed the infamous role of shop assistant number two, she would see her theatre career to be over.

The list was going to be sent out at six in the evening through email, and Crystal found herself not leaving her apartment the entire day, trying to busy herself by vacuuming every room, dusting every shelf, watching everything on her Letterboxd watchlist and finishing an entire bottle of rose lemonade (after debating whether or not she should have a bottle of wine instead, but she didn’t want to be too drunk to read the list.)

She was in the middle of watching The Craft when her phone pinged from the coffee table. She groaned as she reached over, trying to grab the device without moving the rest of her body. It took an extensive stretch of her arm, but she succeeded.

Her efforts were almost futile when she nearly dropped her phone after seeing what the notification read.

Unknown hey girl, it’s gigi from theatre. i hope this is ur number crystal but idk??? anyways i’m super nervous right now..

Where the fuck did Gigi get her number from and why was Miss Aloof making small talk with her? She promptly saved Gigi’s contact into her phone before trying to conjure up a reply that didn’t make her sound too needy or too disinterested.

Crystal it’s me alright ;) i’m nervous too. u for sure got the part though. if not… it’s rigged.

Crystal also how’d u get my number???

Gigi i asked nicky, and then nicky asked jaida, and then jaida gave it to me

Crystal was flattered that she went to such an effort, though she still couldn’t understand why.

Gigi ohmygod it’s 5:50. ten minutes

Gigi they r gonna typecast me as nikos cuz i’m gay AND european

Hold on. Wait a second. Did Giselle Goode just come out to her casually through a Legally Blonde song reference? Crystal felt like hurling her phone across the room. Now her little crush was made more unbearable, knowing that Gigi did like girls - just not her. The last thing she wanted to do was address Gigi’s comment.

Crystal u r european?? also u are elle woods. period

Gigi part scottish! also no u are elle woods no further questions.

Crystal came to realise that Gigi seemed much more confident and comfortable texting than she was in real life. She was more talkative behind a screen.

Crystal it’s legally blonde. not legally blue-haired Mexican

Gigi it’s not legally ginger either bitch . like no one at the studio is blonde

Gigi SJCDSCBHCASKJ WAAAITTTT THEY POSTED IT!t&%^%%*

Crystal’s stomach plummeted like the fucking Tower of Terror. It wasn’t even six yet! It was two minutes to six! Her thumb nearly got a friction burn as she swiped open the mail app. The top email was from Jan, and it had an image attached. With a trembling finger, Crystal opened it.

CAST LIST FEMALE PARTS Elle Woods - Giselle Goode Pilar, Margot, Serena - Jaqueline Cox, Heidi Anthonie, Nicolette Doll Paulette Buonofuonte - Widow Von Du Brooke Wyndham - Jaida Hall Chutney Wyndham - Yvangeline Oddly Vivienne Kensington - Crystal Elizabeth

Crystal didn’t need to read any more after spotting her name. Her grin was wide and her heart was full because she got to play the mean one. The girl had consistently been placed in the cute, funny best-friend typecast, and over time it had become tedious and repetitive. It was going to be great to expand her acting skills, despite not having a mean bone in her body. She opened the messenger app back up and started to text Gigi once again.

Crystal called it!! nothing but respect for MY elle woods

Gigi i am in disbelief, but congrats girl!!! u get to bully me on stage for like 2 hours

Crystal idk girl. i’m kinda mad i didn’t get shop assistant #2

Gigi not this…

…

The read-through came and went successfully, as well as three months of hardcore rehearsals and trying to go off-book, and then suddenly it was tech week (also known as a theatre kid’s best nightmare.)

They were performing the show at the Laura Pels Theatre in New York, and the Monday of tech week was the first day they had a run-through on the stage. The rush that Crystal experienced when she first saw the rows and rows of seats that would be filled the next week was overwhelming. Almost every performance in the eight-show run was sold out.

Whilst the tech crew fiddled with the sound deck, Jan allowed the girls to roam around backstage and organise all their props and costumes, but Crystal wasn’t one for organising. She took a seat in the middle of the stalls, simply staring at the large stage in front of her and picturing herself belting her heart out in the centre, in front of a huge audience of people.

Her fantasy was startled when a sharp ‘boo’ was whispered in her ear. She turned around and saw that Gigi had sat in the seat behind her with a large grin on her face. Over the many months of rehearsing, Gigi and Crystal had become best friends, baffling everyone else at the studio. Crystal knew everything about Gigi there was to know now, and she had seen all sides of the redhead’s goofy personality that she would mask around others.

“You scared me,” Crystal cackled, flashing a toothy smile at her best friend.

“You scared me. You were just staring off into the distance like you were possessed or something.” Gigi reached up to fiddle with Crystal’s curls, which had now been dyed back to their natural colour - dark brown - for the purpose of the show, “I organised your dressing room for you since you didn’t seem to want to do it yourself.”

The brunette sighed, melting into Gigi’s touch, “I’m overwhelmed!”

“Okay and? I’m the lead.”

“Fuck off.”

“Watch this…” Gigi pulled her phone out from her jean pocket and opened her camera roll, showing Crystal a video she had sneakily filmed of the latter in the wings whilst Nicky, Jackie, Heidi and the ensemble rehearsed the opening number, ‘Omigod You Guys.’ The video featured Crystal on the other side of the wings, watching the girls singing and lip-syncing along, thinking no one was watching. She was dancing like an awkward mom whilst Heidi sang her part.

“Giselle Jasmine Goode delete that off your phone now.”

“Absolutely not.”

Crystal half-heartedly wrestled her for a bit, trying to grab her friend’s phone, but Gigi switched it off so she couldn’t unlock it.

“I hate you,” she groaned, sinking back into the soft auditorium seat.

Gigi slipped her phone back into her pocket and stared at Crystal with a look that flipped the mood between the two. Her eyes were sultry-looking and her lips curled up slyly, “You don’t hate me at all.”

It took everything in Crystal not to stare down at the girl’s glossy pink lips, but that didn’t stop her from imagining how they would taste.

It was frustrating sometimes, the way Gigi knew most people at the studio found her attractive. It gave her a sense of cockiness that she would utilize by teasing Crystal - making the innocent brunette believe she had a chance. Crystal knew she didn’t, though. Crystal was sure Gigi had her eyes set on Nicky. They were more similar, evidently. She had to accept that Gigi was always going to be her friend, and nothing more.

…

A week later, after many late nights and many mic-checks, opening night arrived. From her dressing room, Crystal could hear crowds of people filling up the auditorium whilst she straightened her wild curls with a flat iron. Her hands were shaky as she unbuttoned the top two buttons of her striped shirt. Her costume was bland, consisting of a black skirt, a black and white striped button-up and plain black stilettos - the token ‘law student look.’

Across the room, Gigi was staring into the mirror and warming up whilst Jaida tried to fix her blonde lace-front wig for her. Gigi’s costume was fashionable and early 2000s style: a cropped denim jacket over a pink Chanel patterned dress. Her heels were high and her makeup was bright, and everything was so very pink.

Jaida, Crystal and Gigi all shared a dressing room, and it sat practically under the stage, so they had to keep quiet. Jaida’s character didn’t appear until the second act, so after helping the others get ready, she sat in the corner and steamed her voice with Gigi’s very overpriced vocal steamer.

As Crystal was applying nude lip liner to her lips, her phone pinged, and a text from her mom appeared on the screen.

Mom The family has arrived, Mija! We are all in the front row and we are so excited for you!!!

The brunette smiled to herself, trying to send a reply back without getting pounds of stage-makeup on her phone screen.

Crystal thank u for the support mama, but remember, don’t clap or cheer unless it’s at the end of the song or during the bows, and no singing! theatre etiquette!!!

Mom Lo sé. Tell Gigi good luck from me.

The text was followed by many nonsensical emojis, but Crystal was smiling too hard to care.

“Chile, what are you staring at?” Jaida smirked at her through the mirror, “You’re talking to a girl?”

Out of the corner of her eye, Crystal saw Gigi’s expression falter. The girl now had her eyes squinted at the brunette, hoping she wouldn’t notice.

“Ew gross. It’s my mom!” Crystal snorted, placing her phone down on the table and making a dramatically disgusted look on her face.

Jaida strutted over to Crystal and grinned at her, “You’re way too happy all the time to be single.”

“Girl, what does that even mean? I’m just positive!”

“Mhm…”

The brunette averted her gaze back to her lip liner when she caught a glare from Gigi in the mirror.

“Whatsup?” Crystal mouthed.

“Nerves,” Gigi mouthed back.

“You’ll kill it.”

Ten minutes later, however, the roles were reversed. They were ten minutes to curtain, and Crystal was physically shaking on her dressing room stool. Jaida had gone to the bathroom, so Gigi took it upon herself to comfort her friend.

“I’m so fucking scared, G. You know, on the opening night of West Side Story, when I was Anita, my voice cracked during ’America,’ and it was the worst feeling ever. Opening nights are always cursed for me. I’m probably gonna fall over or something,” she started crying, and Gigi was quick to grab tissues, not wanting her to spoil the stage-makeup she had spent so long on. She dabbed the soft tissues below Crystal’s waterline where tears threatened to spill over and escape her glassy eyes.

“Hey, I’m not good at like… the whole comforting thing but, I know that you’re gonna fucking kill it. For the entire first act you get to be a hardcore bitch, and then at the end, you get to sing your big note and sweep everyone away! You’re so fucking fierce and beautiful and you literally ooze talent out like it’s fucking sweat I- I’m rambling,” the words spilt out of Gigi like a broken soap dispenser, but Crystal had never felt so much compassion for her as she did at that moment.

From being seemingly emotionless to rambling on about the respect she had for her best friend; Gigi had experienced incredible growth as a person since befriending Crystal.

“And before you doubt yourself for another second, just know that I fucking love you,” the taller girl added, and oh.

Crystal blinked a couple of times, trying to ease the new swarm of Gigi-caused butterflies that had since joined the stage-fright butterflies. She swallowed the growing lump in her throat, and looked in her friend’s eyes, begging for her to continue speaking before Crystal blurted I love you too.

And Crystal was sure glad that she didn’t get the chance to say the three words in return, because Gigi added something else, “You are the best best-friend I’ve ever had.”

Friends.

…

Despite the minor soft blow to the chest, Gigi’s pep-talk must have been working so far, because the rush Crystal gained from waiting in the wings, watching the audience, was another one of the greatest feelings she had ever felt. The brunette gazed as Gigi, Nicky, Heidi, Jackie and the ensemble all nailed ‘What You Want,’ and then it was time for her first scene.

She entered on stage alongside her castmate Finneas, the guy playing Warner, and they stood in line waiting for Drew, the guy playing Emmet, to receive their syllabi. Gigi, Finneas and Drew had a few lines of dialogue before Crystal delivered her first line.

“All that pink you’re wearing. Is that even legal?” her character questioned in the bitchiest way possible, eliciting a few chuckles from the packed audience.

“Pink is my signature colour,” Gigi gleamed.

“So I gathered.”

The scene went on smoothly, their Professor Callahan sang his song, and quickly it was Gigi and Crystal’s little bit of feminist dialogue. Gigi had it lucky - she got to smile whilst talking to Crystal - but the brunette had to act like she hated the girl, which was tougher than anticipated.

“Excuse me, but why would you do that to another girl?” Gigi’s character asked.

“Do what?”

“We girls have to stick together. We shouldn’t try to look good by making each other look bad.”

“I didn’t make you look bad, you just weren’t prepared. Try opening a law book. But I should warn you,” she smirked and sauntered towards Gigi, “They don’t come with pictures.”

At the end of Act one, Crystal watched Gigi sing ‘So Much Better,’ trying not to let tears run down her cheeks at how proud she was.

“I’ll even dress in black and white! See, I have not begun to fight. And you’ll go whoah, much better, hello, much better, and soon all y’all gonna know much better…” the redhead (or blonde, if you counted the wig) sang like it was her final performance, even if it was the first of eight shows. She earned a standing ovation for her final note as the curtains closed on the first act, and the first thing she did was run over to Crystal, trip over, and fall into her arms.

“That was fucking insane!” the brunette congratulated, gently placing a kiss on her best friend’s head. She wondered if she could feel it, considering the blonde wig was quite large.

“Can you believe we are fucking here?” Gigi gaped as a group of girls gathered around her. Jaida smirked and Jackie formed an ‘o’ shape with her mouth. The redhead quickly noticed what she said and re-worded it, “I mean we aren’t fucking here but, we fucking are here.”

Crystal laughed and pulled her in closer, but the word friend from earlier built a distance.

Act two went just as well as the first act, and Crystal spotted her mom and little brother in the front row, looking prouder than they had ever looked, and she almost felt complete.

She was shaky when she walked onto the hairdresser set for her big song. Widow and Gigi had some dialogue first, before the latter gave Crystal her cue:

“All this time I thought I was proving myself and making a difference… but it turns out I’m just one big blonde joke. That’s all anyone’s ever gonna see,” Gigi’s character sighed, and suddenly Crystal (or Vivienne) revealed herself from under the hairdryer, causing everyone on stage, as well as most of the audience, to gasp.

“That’s not what I see,” Crystal exclaimed, and there was a short moment after delivering that line where the audience clapped. This was true happiness - this was what it felt like.

“Vivienne?” said Gigi when the audience had finally finished cheering.

“Maybe Warner saw a blonde who was sleeping her way to the top, but all I see is a woman who doesn’t have to.”

The band began playing under her line, and when it was over, she slipped into singing.

“I used to pray for the day you’d leave. Swore up and down you did not belong. But when I am wrong then I say I’m wrong, and I was wrong about you, so listen up!” she strutted over to Widow and Gigi, where they both stood with confused expressions. She placed her hand on Gigi’s arm and continued singing, “I see no end to what you’ll achieve - that’s only if you don’t turn and run. You proved it to me, now show everyone what you can do,” an ensemble member approached with a blue blazer and skirt for Gigi, “And you look great in dark blue!”

Crystal placed her arm on Gigi’s back and led her to the centre of the stage, staring into the large audience with a smirk.

“Get back on the game… back on the case… take a good look at my face,” she turned to Gigi and bit her lip, and the redhead mirrored it, holding back a smile, “I’m not a fool, and as a rule, I do not bond.” she sang the word bond with quotation marks, and she held the note out whilst her friend clutched her chest. “But I see a star, you’re my new muse; you’ve got the best freakin’ shoes!”

The audience cheered as she sang this, and the female ensemble came up behind her, dancing along as she sang like there was no tomorrow.

“And you lit a fuse, so go show ‘em who’s legally blonde!”

The number ended with tremendous applause from the audience, after Gigi’s costume change into her bright pink dress. Crystal pulled her friend into a hug, they exited the stage, and the brunette thanked every God in the sky for not giving her a voice crack, before quickly rushing back on for the courtroom scene.

The scene went on swiftly until Yvie delivered the climactic line: “Think I liked being older than my dad’s new candy wife? I didn’t mean to hurt my father! I didn’t mean to shoot him… I thought it was Brooke coming through the door!”

The final number blew everyone away. The crowd was up on their feet by the end, cheering when Gigi locked lips with Drew. Crystal smiled and clapped along with everyone, and watched as her entire extended family screamed their asses off in the front row.

During bows, Crystal, among others, were given immense amounts of the acclimation, but Gigi received the most. The redhead’s older brother stood in the front row with a bouquet of flowers, standing beside Gigi’s mom who was crying too much to cheer.

The brunette exited the stage with Jaida and Widow, but Gigi stayed on to give one last wave while the curtain closed.

Most of the girls made their way back to their dressing rooms to unwind, remove makeup and prepare to greet family members and acquaintances at the stage door, but Crystal waited in the wings for Gigi. Crystal’s bow gave her an enormous sudden surge of confidence, so as Gigi made her way towards her, she sucked in a deep breath and said everything she ever wanted to say:

“I know this is a lot to take in right now cause you just did that, but I am so proud of you and I’ve been thinking really long and hard about how, even though you’re the greatest best friend I could ever ask for, I want us to be more. I like you so much. I feel like I can’t have my cake and eat it since I’m already so lucky to be in your life just as a friend but it’s so hard not to kiss you when you look that fucking pretty all the fucking time and it’s making me feel crazy. The rush I got tonight makes it impossible for me not to say this. You can slap me, if you want, or just not say anything and go take your wig off-”

“-Shut up.” Gigi grabbed the brunette’s chin and pulled her into a passionate kiss that crossed every friendship barrier they had ever made. So many pent up feelings for such a long time spilt over and Crystal felt like crying when Gigi’s soft hands moved to her neck and pulled her closer.

They broke apart after twenty seconds, resting their foreheads against one another and grinning toothily.

“I like you too… Way more than I should like you. Opening up for me is impossible, but then you somehow made it possible… Like I can tell you anything! Plus, you’re so hot. Your ass… Anyways I’m backtracking. I like you so much,” she kissed the brunette’s forehead softly, “Now let’s go take everything off and then we can go say hi to our families, okay?” Gigi twinkled, reaching forward to grab the brunette’s hand.

Crystal was breathless, somehow managing to reply with a faint ‘yes.’

Crystal couldn’t believe she had said all that to Gigi but had forgotten to say I love you. Little did she know, she’d be whispering it into the redhead’s naked chest later that night.

#rpdr fanfiction #crystal methyd #gigi goode #crygi #lesbian au #musical theatre au #friends to lovers #happy ending #frankenvenus #concrit welcome #s12

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he-who-walks-among-the-trees · 4 years

Text

A BIT OF HIGHLAND MAGIC

Today's offering comes from "Highland Monthly Magazine" who alongside other wonderful articles published a series on Gaelic Incantations from 1891-92 and collected them together in the book "Highland Monthly Volume III" published in 1892.

Anyway, here's a little taste of what was shared;

"GAELIC INCANTATIONS

JACOB GRIMM has, in his Teutonic Mythology remarked that, healing charms must be handed down by men to women, or by women to men; and this also is a Highland view. " A peculiarity about them [the charms]," says Mr W. Mackenzie in Vol. VI II. of the Gaelic Society's Transactions, "was that persons of the same sex should not learn them from one another; and in order to be efficacious a man must learn the eolas from a woman, and a woman from a man." The charms which follow have not, we fear, been all collected "duly" on this point, and their efficacy in actual working may therefore be doubtful. Any way, many hold that the blazoning of them abroad spoils their efficacy, and to print them is sacrilege. It was believed that though one heard and learned the charm in spite of the charmer, still the latter could curse the charm in such a way that it would be of no use to the other. Nor can everybody cure with these rhymes and charms. There is therefore a wide margin of doubt as to the cause of the failure of a charm, for they do fail at times; that is recognised.

I. SPELLS AND PREVENTIVE CHARMS.

We shall begin first with the spells or bespelling charms, known in Gaelic as geasa or siana (signum, blessing). Thereafter we shall consider the healing charms for man and beast. The geas or spell is generally wicked; it is the work of an adverse power, and, as a consequence, we cannot get any specimens of this form of incantation with ease. For instance, a spell could be laid on a man going out to shoot, unknown to him, and he would be unsuccessful that day. Such a spell is a rosad, and, though the "rosad" still exists among us, we have failed in persuading anybody to reveal it. Of course, the folktales contain bespelling formulae, for in them the hero or heroine do many wonders by means of spoken words. The favourite form for the folktale spell is this

"Tha mise 'cur ort mar gheasaibh 's mar chroisibh, 's mar naoidh buaraichean mnatha sithe, siubhla, seacharain, laochan beag as meataiche 's a's mi-threòiriche na thu fein a thoirt a chinn, 's nan cluas, 's nan comada beatha diot, mur faigh thu mach" &c.

"I lay on you as spells and crosses, and as nine fetters of a fairy, travelling, wandering woman, that a little fellow more timid and more feeble than yourself deprive you of your head, your ears, and your powers of life, unless you discover'' or "do," &c.

The Fath Fithe spell, which, as already stated, poachers once made use of, and smugglers lately, and now even, find means of escape by, is as follows:-

"Fà fithe cuiream ort

Bho chù, bho chat

Bho bhò, bho each,

Bho dhuine, bho bhean,

Bho ghille, bho nighean,

'S bho leanabh beag,

Gus an tig mise rithisd,

An ainm an Athar, a' Mhic, 's an Spioraid Naoimh."

"A magic cloud I put on thee from dog, cat, cow, horse, man, woman, lad, lass, and little child, till I come again in the name of the"Trinity."

The first two words are the old Faeth Fiada, as now pronounced. This spell rendered the person invisible.

The preventive charm or sian is represented by a very famous formula intended to preserve a man from wounding or harm from the time when he left the presence of the charmer till he came back, and it was usually put on those going to battle. Men so protected, for instance, at Culloden, had only to take their plaids off their shoulders and shake out of them the bullets that hit them ! It was the Sian, par excellence, and is as follows:- The charmer and his protege go to a retired spot. Here the recipient of the charm goes on his knees; the charmer lays his hand on his head, and, with eyes shut, he utters the following rhyme, going round him sunwise twice. And he goes round him once anti-sunwise, saying a different rhyme. Both these rhymes, which after much trouble we have been fortunate enough to get, run thus Going sunwise, he says-

"Sian a chuir Moire air Mac ort,

Sian ro' marbhadh, sian ro' lot ort,

Sian eadar a' chioch 's a ghlun,

Sian eadar a' glhun 's a' bhroit ort,

Sian nan Tri ann an aon ort,

O mhullach do chinn gu bonn do chois ort :

Sian seachd paidir a h-aon ort,

Sian seachd paidir a dha ort,

Sian seachd paidir a tri ort,

Sian seachd paidir a ceithir ort,

Sian seachd paidir a coig ort,

Sian seachd paidir a sia ort,

Sian seachd paidir nan seachd paidir dol deiseil ri deagh uarach ort, ga do ghleidheadh bho bheud 's

bho mhi-thapadh."

Going anti-sunwise, he says —

"Clogaid na slainte mu d' cheann,

Cearcall a' chumhnaint mu d' amhaich,

Uchd-eididh an t-sagairt mu d' bhroilleach.

Ma's ruaig bho 'n taobh-chuil,

Brogan na h-Oigh ga d' ghiulan gu luath.

Sian nan Tri ann an aon ort

Bho mhullach do chinn gu bonn do shail,

Agus sian paidir nan seachd paidir

Dol tuaitheal is deiseil, deiseil is tuaitheal,

Gu d' ghleidheadh bho d'chul

Bho luaidh 's bho chlaidheamh,

Bho lot 's bho mharbhadh,

Gu uair is am do bhais."

The person on whom the charm is placed then rises and departs, but the charmist remains standing with eyes shut, and he does not open them till the other is out of sight.

The charmed one is safe from death or wounds till the charmist sees him again. The translation is as follows:-

"The charm that Mary placed on her son be on you,

Charm from slaying, charm from wounding,

Charm between pap and knee,

Charm between knee and breast on you,

Charm of the three in one on you,

From top of head to sole of foot.

Charm of seven paters once on you,

Charm of seven paters twice on you,

Charm of seven paters thrice on you,

Charm of seven paters four times on you,

Charm of seven paters five times on you,

Charm of seven paters six times on you,

Charm of the seven paters of the seven paters going sunwise in lucky hour on you, a-keeping you from harm and accident."

Anti-sun wise-

"The helmet of safety (salvation?) about your head,

The ring of the Covenant about your neck,

The priests' breast-plate about your breast ;

If it be retreat on the rear,

The shoes of the Virgin to take you swiftly away.

Charm of the Three in One on you

From crown of head to sole of foot,

And the charm of the pater of the seven paters

A-going anti-sunwise and sunwise, sunwise and anti-sunwise,

To protect you from behind

From lead and from sword,

From wound and from slaying,

Till the hour and time of your death."

The following is a charm to help in the correct interpretation of dreams. One goes to the charmer and tells his dream. The charmer repeats the following, and then the dream is unravelled:-

"Chunnaic mi aisling an raoir

'S mi 'nam shuidh air sliabh rath;

Dh' innis Peadar e do Phol

'S thuirt Pol gu'm bu mhath;

Ach breithneachdainn Chriosd ro' Phol

Gu thusa chumail ceart."

Translated -

"I saw a vision last night

And me sitting on a mount of grace;

Peter told it to Paul

And Paul said it was well ;

But the judgment of Christ before Paul's

To keep you right."

The following is a charm given by "Nether-Lochaber" as good against the demon of the dust-cloud. "As it swirls along," he says, "as it approaches, you are instantly to close your eyes and mouth as tightly as possible, at the same time turning your back upon it until it has swept by, mentally repeating - for you are not to open your mouth, nor as much as breathe, as long as you can help it - this rhyme;-

"Gach cuman is mias is meadar,

Gu Pòl, gu Peadair 's gu Brìde;

Dion, is seun, is gleidh mi o olc 's o chunnart,

Air a bheallach, 's air a mhullach,

'S air an tullaich ud thall;

Pòl is Peadair is Brìde caomh!"

which he translates —

"Be the care of milk pail, and bowl, and cog

Given to Peter and Paul and Saint Bride;

Wherever I wander protect me, ye Saints!

Let not evil nor harm me betide;

Hear me, Peter and Paul, and gentle Saint Bride!"

We now come to the spell for prevention of the results arising from the "Evil Eye' The following is a preventive charm to keep the evil eye off one's cows. It is called "Eolas an Torranain," and was got by Mr Carmichael, when he was in Uist. The torranan, he explains, was described to him as a flowering plant, growing in rocky hill-places, the bloom of which is large and pap-like. The tide is said to affect it, for while the tide flows, it is filled with the "dew of bliss" and dries up again with the ebb. It has to be culled during the flow of the tide, placed under one of the milk pails, and in placing it this charm is repeated three times, making at each time a circle sunwise, with the plant over the vessel:-

"Buaineams' thu, thorranain,

Le 'd uile bhaeannachd 's le 'd uile bhuaidh;

Thainig na naoi sonais

Leis na naoi earranan

Le buaidh an torranain,

Lamh Bhride leam!

Tha mi nis 'gad bhuain.

Buaineams' thu, thorranain,

Le 'd thoradh mara 's tir,

Ri lionadh gun traoghadh

Le'd lamhsa, Bhride mhin,

Colum naomh 'gam sheoladh,

Odhran caomh 'gam dhion,

Is Micheil nan steud uaibhreach

'Cur buaidh anns an ni.

Tha mo lus lurach a nis air a bhuain."

which he translates —

"Let me pluck, thee, Torannan!

With all thy blessedness and all thy virtue,

The nine blessings came with the nine parts.

By the virtue of the Torranan;

The hand of St Bride with me,

I am now to pluck thee. .

Let me pluck thee, Torranan!

With thine increase as to sea and land;

With the flowing tide that shall know no ebbing,

By the assistance of chaste St Bride,

The holy St Columba directing me,

And St Michael of high-crested steeds,

Imparung virtue to the matter the while,

Darling plant of all virtue,

I am now plucking thee!"

II. FOR THE EVIL EVE.

When the "evil eye" has "lain" on any one, there are various means of cure. The most usual is the cure by water off silver; and this cure was effected with or without a rhyme charm. The modus operandi with the incantation was as follows:- Coins of gold, silver, and copper are put in a basin full of water. The charmer repeats the eolas or incantation, and in doing so blows on the water with his breath. The water is then sprinkled on the sufferer. The charm is as follows:-

" 'S e 'n t-suil a chi,

'S e 'n cridhe a smuainicheas,

'S e 'n teanga labhras.

'S mise 'n triuir gu tilleadh so orsta, A.B.,

An ainm an Athar; a' Mhic, 's an Spioraid Naoimh."

Translated-

" 'Tis the eye that sees,

the heart that thinks,

and the tongue that speaks.

I am the three to turn this off you, A.B.,

in the name of the Father, etc"

The charm, apart from the "silver" water, is known as "Eolas a' Chronachaidh," or "Charm for the Reproof," or it may be called " Casg Beum-suil,"Stopping Injury by Eye." John Mackenzie, in his Beauties of Gaelic Poetry p. 268, gives the following Gaelic charm for it, saying that during its repetition "the singular operation of filling a bottle with water was carried on, and the incantation was so sung as to chime with the gurgling of the liquid as it was poured into the vessel."

"Deanamsa dhutsa eolas air suil,

A uchd 'Ille Phadruig naoimh,

Air at amhaich is stad earrbuill

Air naoi conair 's air naoi connachair,

'S air naoi bean seang sith,

Air siul seana-ghille, 's air sealladh seana-mhna;

Mas a suil fir i, i lasadh mar bhigh,

Mas a suil mhnath' i, i bhi dh' easbhuidh a cich,

Falcadair fuar agus fuarachd da 'fuil,

Air a ni, 's air a daoine,

Air a crodh 's air a caoraich fein."

"Let me perform for you a charm for the evil-eye

From the breast of holy Gil-Patrick

Against swelling of neck and stoppage of bowels,

Against nine "Conair" and nine "Connachair,"

And nine slender fairies,

Against an old bachelor's eye, and an old wife's eye.

If a man's eye may it flame like gum (resin),

If a woman s eye may she want her breast,

A cold plunge and coldness to her blood,

And to her gear, to her men,

To her cattle and sheep."

Here is another rhyme given as an Eolas a' Chronachaidh;-

"Paidir a h' aon,

Paidir a dha,

Patdir a tri,

Paidir a ceithir,

Paidir a coig,

Paidir a sea,

Paidir a seachd,

'S neart nan seachd paidirean a' sgaoileadh do ghalair air na clachan glas ud thall."

Which means-

"Paters I, 2. 3, 4, 5, 6, 7,

And may the strength of the seven paters

Cast out your disease amidst the gray-stones over by."

In the Maclagan MSS. the following charms are given for the "evil eye":-

"Eolus Bheim shul,

le Nic Aoidh

Paidir Mhuire h-aon, &c. Aon suil a thug an aire dhuit, A.B. (person named who is unwell), mar thionntadhas a ghaoth air a chnoc, gu tionntadh an olc orra fein. Mar thionntadhas, &c., ri radh tri uaire h-airis."

"[Charm for evil eyes,

by Miss (?) Mackay.

Pater of Mary one, &c, Whatever eye took notice of you, A.B., as the wind turns on the hillock, may the evil turn on themselves. As the wind, &c., (to be repeated three times).]

"Eolus a Bheim shuil,

le Ann Chaimbeill

Saltruighidh mis air an t-suil mar shaltruigheas Eala ar Tigh nocht. Ta neart gaoithe agam air, ta neart grelne agam air, ta neart mhic Ri neamh agus talmhainn agam air. Trian air na clacha glasa- 's trian air a mhuir mhoir as i fein acfuim as fhearr ga ghiulan. Ann ainm, &c,"

#witchblr #witch #witches #witchcraft #solitary witch #witchy #green witch #modern witchcraft #witches of tumblr #credit to the artist #scottishwitchcraft

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chrysalispen · 5 years

Text

apilado

yeah i’m not even going to preface this, it’s literally porn with fluff, because i wasn’t going to let valentione’s pass without nero/aurelia smut LMAO

NSFW under the cut.

===

The sun hung low in the western sky when the Warrior of Light arrived at her home in the Beds.

The house was empty when she let herself inside, but the scents of cooking wafted into her nose as soon as she opened the door: meat, gravy, fresh-baked bread. Aurelia unfastened the simple clasps and buckles that bound her gunblade to her back and set it carefully by the front door alongside her cane, then removed her heavy gloves and outer utility belt to stretch her spine like a cat’s, yawning and wincing as her shoulders popped.

There wasn’t anyone in the kitchen, but there was a loaf of crusty bread recently baked. It sat in a basket on the small lip of countertop next to the stove, where a stewpot simmered.

“So much for surprising you with dinner,” a voice echoed at her back, from the hallway. Nero leaned against the threshold between the kitchen and the hallway entrance, looking as carelessly handsome in crimson as he ever did. “I wasn’t expecting you back until later tonight.”

The only people who’d known she had any plans to return to Gridania from Mor Dhona at all were Arenvald and Tataru. She sighed at him, with a sort of exasperated tolerance.

“You promised me you’d stop listening in on official communication frequencies.”

“I said I would limit myself to important matters only - which I believe was your stipulation. And if you must know, I consider news of your impending return to be an important matter.”

“Oh?” She warmed to his sidewise admission, despite herself. “Well, that’s very sw-”

“Who else can I trust to assist me with field testing my creations?”

Aurelia scoffed out a short laugh and gave him a jab in the side with one elbow. “Good to know you find me useful, I suppose.”

“Useful is a good way to- hello.” She blinked. His sharp gaze was fixed upon- actually, what was he looking at? “Since when did you start wearing this, or have my powers of observation finally failed me?”

Oh. “Since I started training to use a gunblade.”

“You could have asked me, were you that curious.”

“It’s not Garlean-style swordsmanship.” She put some distance between them to lean against the unused countertop as if checking on the contents of the large stewpot. Mutton, with rough-cut potatoes, carrots, and parsnips, cloves of garlic and various other herbs reducing in a thick gravy. Typical Ilsabardian country fare: simple but hearty. “...I’m learning the art from a Hrothgar mercenary. Radovan is…”

“Radovan?”

She cleared her throat. “Radovan is from Bozja.”

“Ah,” and there was a wealth of implication in that response neither of them wished to address. “Any reason you prefer the Bozjan style?”

Aurelia shrugged uncomfortably, picking invisible bits of lint out of a nearby kitchen towel and averting her eyes. After a long and awkward pause and the soft sound of bare feet against the floor, his hand came to rest on her back.

“All right,” he began, “where did I misstep?”

“It’s… you haven’t done anything wrong. I just…” She took a deep breath. “Cid doesn’t have good memories of Bozja.”

“Garlond’s memories have naught to do with you or me, and as obnoxiously good-natured as he is you should already know he’d never hold it against you.”

“I also... didn’t want you to think less of me,” she admitted. “I’ve always struggled with the gunblade, you see, and-”

“Struggle with a martial art? You?”

“Didn’t I tell you? I tried using one once, during basic. It was too heavy for me to lift and I was too nervous and the shot went wild. Knocked me flat on my arse. I’ve not attempted it since.”

“...You didn’t actually think I was going to laugh at you, did you?” She stared down at the countertop. Once he realized no answer would be forthcoming, he wrapped his arms about her and rested his cheek on the crown of her head. “Don’t take this the wrong way, but ‘tis a comfort, on occasion, to know you aren’t actually brilliant at everything you touch. Sometimes it’s downright galling.”

"Nero, that's...”

“This star doesn’t bloody well need two Cidolfus Garlonds. Can you even imagine?"

That one earned him another jab in the ribs.

“At any rate,” he continued, “this new look of yours.”

“What about it?”

“Mm.” His hands slipped over her cropped jacket and tunic to brace her waist, then settled low on her hips. “...Not overfond of the lack of color, but I shan’t deny I rather enjoy the aesthetic.”

Aurelia jumped at the sensation of blunt fingernails dragging slow and careful paths along that small patch of exposed skin on the backs of her thighs, just below the curve of her buttocks. “One would think,” her hand fisted in the towel she’d been worrying in an effort to keep her breathing measured, “you had never seen a woman in shorts before.”

“Of course I have. None of them were you.”

She laughed. “Flattery-”

“Will get me everywhere.” His effervescent - and occasionally infuriating - grin had returned in force. “So I shall fondly hope.”

He tilted her chin upwards for a slow and languorous kiss. She hummed against his mouth, relaxed and content- until the moment his hands grasped her backside and squeezed, firmly.

“Nero,” she gasped, “not in the kitchen!”

“No? I’m fair certain there’s a bottle of olive oil in the pantry if needs must-” His eyes were alight with mirth, and his grin broke into a peal of delighted laughter at the embarrassed scowl that crossed her features. “...A jest, sweetling! ‘Twas only a jest.”

“Made in remarkably poor taste,” Aurelia grumbled as he continued to laugh. “And the stew is-”

Those hands slipped a few ilms upwards to worry at the waistband of her bottoms, and she felt her protest die on her lips. “Not going to be ready for another half-bell at least.”

She stilled his hands and pushed herself up from the countertop to give herself space, so she could turn around while still resting in his embrace. He allowed it, as he usually did when she was gone for long stretches of time, and she took the opportunity to rest her cheek against his chest and breathe him in. There was the faint scent of machine oil as always, and atop that was coffee and aftershave, a fresh scent that made her think of Coerthan spruce trees.

His thumbs pressed very gently along the curve of her hips, tracing the outline of them through the heavy fabric, sliding carefully and intimately beneath leather straps and steel buckles. Svelte frame or not, Nero Scaeva was a tall and imposing man; his hands and their long, deft fingers easily spanned her waist. She could feel the warmth of his palms along her flanks, still caressing that sensitive patch of skin high on her thighs.

Aurelia swallowed, heat settling low in her belly.

“Not in here,” she repeated. The words fell heavy from a tongue that felt suddenly very thick. “I mean it. The bedroom-”

“Too far.” His hands found their way under the waistband and beneath her smalls, to cup her buttocks, and this time she did gasp aloud. He stifled it with a kiss, murmuring, “Workshop’s just down the hall.”

“Oh, Nero, but your schematics-”

“It’ll be worth it,” and with that she found herself hoisted in the air.

She wrapped her legs around his waist to keep herself from falling. He didn’t say anything, but he didn’t need to speak; she could hear how quickly his heart was thumping in his chest and caught the rasp of his breath in her ear, shallow and uneven. They’d barely rounded the corner to the hallway when he pressed her back against the first available expanse of wall surface and kissed her again, this time fierce and wanting. His hips canted upwards to grind against hers, and Aurelia understood the reason for his sudden impatience.

“Put me down,” she whispered against his mouth.

Nero’s grip relaxed enough to let her feet drop back to the ground, though he didn’t release her nor did he stop kissing her. Hastily she kicked off her boots while her hands fumbled at the buckles that bound the heavy leather kecks over her legs; once she was divested of that it would just be the short bottoms and the long woolen stockings she wore beneath- but it was slow going all the same.

“Hells,” he grumbled, “at this rate we’ll not make it down the bloody hallway.”

“Cid would see it done.”

The sheer consternation that spread across Nero’s face at her retort was so utterly comical that Aurelia was unable to resist the urge to laugh.

She paid the price for her teasing almost immediately when he let out a growl and shoved her against the wall, then dropped to his knees. His fingers labored swiftly and ungently at unfastening the clasps that ran down the outer seams, all but ripping them open, and without pause he pulled the protective garment away to toss in the same direction as her boots.

Still chuckling, Aurelia moved to reach for him-- and found herself rebuffed.

His hand caught her wrist and pulled it away from his hair to slam against the wall, pinning it in place until it was clear he meant for her to leave it there while his left hand worked the buttons at her waist. The denim fabric gave much more easily beneath his deceptive strength, and her eyes flared wide when he hooked his fingers in shorts and smallclothes both only to yank them down to her ankles, leaving her completely exposed.

Nero grasped her right leg, still encased in its heavy stocking, and lifted. She had to grab at his shoulders to avoid falling, and by the time she’d corrected her balance he had draped her right knee over his shoulder.

She sighed at the warm kiss he planted on her inner thigh just at the seam of her stocking, then hissed out her next breath when he sank his teeth into sensitive flesh. It left her writhing against the wall in a halfhearted and largely unsuccessful effort to free herself from his grasp as he made his unhurried way upwards, which left her subjected to the same painfully pleasant sensation each time he repeated the process. His mouth made a trail of blooming red marks along her thigh in its wake, the curve of his strong jaw grazing her with the slight and stinging rasp of red-gold stubble with each bite- and his journey came to an abrupt stop a scant ilm or two from the cap of dark golden curls that shielded her mons.

The damp heat of his breath fanned gently against her belly, and something in her spine curled in heady anticipation. Slowly he dragged the tip of his index finger along the seam of her folds: a light and feathery caress that was nonetheless quite calculated.

Aurelia groaned aloud.

“I should torment you like this more often,” his voice was a low and feral rasp as he replaced his index finger with his thumbs, stroking plush and swollen softness, spreading her open with a combination of careful deliberation and obvious relish.

The initial slide of his tongue was as devastating as it was precise: a white-hot jolt of pleasure that sent molten sparks hissing through her veins. Her back snapped into an arch but his hands held her fast, kept her positioned the way he wanted. Unable to dislodge him, she let her head fell back against the wall with a graceless thump, hands gathering in silken skeins of platinum, and the roughness of his cheeks bristled against tender flesh as he feasted upon her.

“Gods,” she gasped, jaw slack and chest heaving. The tip of his tongue flicked against her clit at the apex of each stroke, a light and insolent touch. Just enough to build upon that fire little by little, to leave her raw and burning and desperate for more. “Nero, please--”

The only response she received was a soft and derisive laugh, muffled between her legs. Her hips twitched against the cage of his grasp, moving upon instinct rather than any cogent thought. A throbbing ache she knew well settled into her core, everything within and without feeling as though the flesh was transforming into molten brass. It was a matter of time before-

-he withdrew, left her stepping that razor’s edge just before release. Calmly he rocked back on his heels, smirking up at her, mouth still glistening from his self-indulgence.

She stared incredulously down at him, heart pounding and flushed from head to shoulders.

“You-”

Before she could protest further, he lifted her into a bridal carry and nudged the workshop door open with his foot.

A broad sweep of his arm made space upon the nearby drafting table, set low until he was ready to use it again. She half-expected him to seat her, but instead he set her back down upon legs that still trembled. His mouth found hers again, briefly returning to her the taste of her own slick before he broke away with a soft and unsteady exhalation.

“That was for bringing Garlond into it,” he said. “Turn around. Hands on the table.”

Curt, direct, the delivery flat and sharp. Extremely suited to the tribunus he had once been.

She shrugged off her jacket, let it fall to the floor alongside spare books and the odd trimmings of discarded solder, and leaned forward to brace her weight. The varnished wooden surface was cool to the touch but began to warm quickly enough beneath her palms. Waiting for him she trembled in place, her senses acutely heightened by the ache of unfulfilled arousal.

The distinctive chime of a loosened belt buckle rang loud in her ears, as did the rustling of fabric that followed- and his lips were at her ear, nuzzling and nipping at the shell. She sighed, tilting her chin just enough to give him access, and felt his fingers tug her hair to one side so he could place another kiss behind her earlobe before his hand settled on her bare flank.

Her shoulders heaved with shaking breaths.

“You... don’t have to ask me, you know.”

“I know.” She inhaled sharply when she felt him nudge at her entrance, heavy and thick, gliding through the wet heat of her lower lips. “Tell me what you want.”

“I-”

“Go on.”

She didn’t give a damn for her dignity, not right now. Not when it was just the two of them like this, not when she knew Nero would take care of her no much how much he (gently) bullied her. In the end, she trusted him.

It was a dance, this give-and-take that always balanced itself in the end. An equal exchange.

“I want you,” she rasped. “Please.”

The words emerged as a thin, trembling whisper, almost a plea. She waited, wondering if he’d demand more, and could have cried with relief when his pleased hum buzzed against her neck and she felt pressure between her legs, the sharp and briefly uncomfortable burn even through her wetness as his girth stretched her.

She lowered her elbows, then tilted her head forward until her brow rested on the cool surface of the table, grounding herself through her own harsh and rattling breaths. It was almost too much. The angle of his entry combined with the tilt of her hips made her feel as though she’d been speared straight to her core, and he just seemed to keep going, hells, it almost hurt, but she felt so full like this-

“Aurelia.” The rasp of her name, laced with worry. He’d finally stopped; his hips sat flush with hers and his breathing was near as heavy. She looked down at the slender fingers splayed upon the table’s surface, close to her own, then over her shoulder to look him in the eye. “Are you alright?”

“Fine,” she panted. She wasn't, not yet, but she would be. "Just give me a minute."

The look he gave her from lust-darkened blue eyes was scrutinizing... and then his smirk, cool and challenging, returned in full force.

"I can stop here if it's too much for you to handle."

"Nero Scaeva, if you dare refuse me your cock after all that, I will strangle you with your own toolbelt-”

His breath huffed against her mouth.

“A tempting offer,” he drawled, “if I might be so bold.”

“-and furthermore, we both know no jury in the land would convict me.”

“Threats of asphyxiation aside, far be it from me to refuse you aught--” his hips flexed and she felt the fullness within her shifting by ilms, an experimental push and pull, “--eikon-slayer.”

The forceful thrust that followed all but knocked the breath from her lungs. Aurelia bit out a choked curse, her nails digging small furrows into the table for purchase. His lips pressed against her nape and she felt them curve with mirth- and no remorse whatsoever.

He was a demon. A voidsent summoned from the depths of the seven hells to torment her specifically. She would have said as much, but he had started to move and all she could manage was a high-pitched whimper.

Face buried in her arms once more, elbows down and forehead pressed against natural ridges and cool varnish, she could hear little over the loud and wet rasp of her own attempts to breathe. She arched her back and canted her hips backwards to meet him, the table rattling in tandem with each thrust. Nero hadn’t loosened his grip: one hand still held steady at her flank; she could feel his fingertips curling, digging into her skin as he fucked her. The other was still braced against the table and without thinking she reached for it to thread his fingers through hers, incongruous tenderness in the heat of coupling.

“I missed you,” she squeezed and felt his fingers tighten in response, “gods, I missed you terribly- ”

His breath caught. She felt the renewal of those soft bites against her neck, sharp little pinpricks contrasted against the hot and ceaseless friction he created within her.

He tugged his hand loose from her grasp and slid it off the table, reaching beneath their joined bodies, and Aurelia whined between clenched teeth when he cupped the damp curls between her legs. The slow circular strokes of his fingers rendered the heat in her belly bright and immediate, as if someone had turned the indicator dial on a ceruleum stove to its highest setting.

“Come for me, sweetling,” he breathed in her ear, as relentless above as below; she could feel the return of that tension, coiling tight and unbearable, an overtaxed spring- “Let me hear you.”

Her climax was upon her, light and gold in her veins.

She cried out to the heavens, a high and keening wail. Somewhere in the haze that dulled her senses she thought she heard a deeper cry as he answered in kind, but in that moment she could not have said if it was real or simply a flight of fancy.

His weight did return to her back after a time, gently. She could hear his ragged breathing in her ear, and her own soft gasps, and the reedy creak of the table protesting their combined weight. ‘Twas either a testament to superior carpentry or superior engineering that the godsdamned thing hadn’t broken underneath her in the middle of it all.

Rough stubble dragged back and forth over her bite-marked neck as he nuzzled her. His fingers had left her core to trail lazy patterns along the outline of her thigh.

“So,” Nero murmured, "I know it's a funny little Eorzean custom, but I find myself more fond of - Valentione's? - with each passing year."

She froze in dismay.

“What?”

“Hm? Did I not say it correctly?”

“No, not-...That was today?”

“I thought that was why you were coming home tonight.”

“Oh no,” groaned the Warrior of Light, and this time she was burying her face in her arms for a wholly different reason. Gods damn me for a forgetful fool. “I didn’t get you anything-”

“Well, I wouldn’t say that.” She didn’t have to see his smirk, not when she could hear it in his voice. “ ‘Tis not every day my objectively terrifying better half arrives home unannounced and lets me have my wicked way with her- with minimal complaint.”

Aurelia managed a shaky, embarrassed laugh. He kissed her cheek before bracing his hands on the table and shifting his hips, and she grimaced at the wet slide and the sense of emptiness and burgeoning soreness that followed close behind. Immediately she cupped herself with one hand, not that it was terribly helpful; they had made a mess regardless.

"I’ll clean up in here and see to the stew,” he said. "Go bathe. I'll have it ready by the time you're out."

“If you’re sure…”

“I’m sure.” She gave him a doubtful stare, looked down at her feet as she righted herself- and started to laugh helplessly. “What?”

“My blasted smalls were stuck about my ankle this whole time.” She snatched them quickly up her legs with a loud and nasal snicker. “...Seven hells, I’m so glad you aren’t a historian. You’d include all the embarrassing details-”

“Naturally. ‘The mighty Warrior of Light sauntered with ethereal grace towards the water closet, soiled underthings clinging about the divine ankle of her radiant personage’-”

“Oh, stop. Go see to the Valentione’s dinner. The one the glorious champion of Eorzea bloody well forgot.”

"Along with her smallclothes-"

"Nero!"

His laughter followed her down the hallway as she scraped together what remained of her clothing and made her way to the bathroom.

Her dignity- well. The less said about that, the better.

~*~

Later that night as they lay in close and comfortable silence - having partaken of multiple helpings of stew, homemade chocolates, and each other - Nero felt a stirring from the soft, warm weight pillowed upon his bare chest. Aurelia’s hand had drifted to his side, over the long scar that curved about his midsection to taper near his navel.

He thought he spoke her name but it came out as a vague and sleep-heavy rumble.

“It’s healed cleanly.” Her fingertips traced it, the legacy of a misadventure that had nearly ended his life, never mind his career. “I didn’t hurt you, did I?”

“Hm? Of course not.”

“Good.” She seemed satisfied with that response, dark blue eyes drifting shut again- only to flicker half-open a beat later. “...Nero?”

“Yes?”

There was a long silence, followed by a question murmured on the edge of sleep:

“When I’m gone... do you miss me?”

He paused for long moments to consider the question, fingers idling in the trails they made upon the surface of her shoulder. Time was such a strange thing, really. Three years ago he would have cursed her name if he thought of her at all, and now... now his thoughts were oft as not filled with the memory of lavender and the clean cut-grass scent of the open road.

Home.

He smiled, knowing she couldn’t see it in the dark, and buried his face in her hair.

“Terribly,” Nero Scaeva said.

#chrysalispen writes #firm lemony business #nero scaeva #aurelia laskaris #look if you think i won't lampshade the fact this fic is late #you clearly do not know how very far on my bullshit i am and eternally will be

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professordrarry · 6 years

Note

It's an open secret to everyone in the auror department that aurors Malfoy and Potter have it bad for each other, but it all culminates when Ron and Blaise accidentally bond them together. Will Harry and Draco be able to hide their feelings on such close proximity?

Hey, can you believe I’ve never written a bond fic???? Sorry because this is gonna be a r o u g h ride. Also it’s accidentally 2 k……

“Blaise, do you think we actually have to tell them?” Ron had finally pulled off his robes; Blaise was pretty grateful since they stank like the tubers they’d been bagging up since noon. Grateful, too, for other reasons, even if Ron was married and vanilla and definitely not interested.

“You’re kidding, right?” Blaise crossed his arms to glare at Ron. “Do you honestly think they won’t notice?”

“Well, okay, but see,” Ron insisted. “I’ve been thinking about it since this morning. I’m honestly nor sure they would notice, Zabini! They spend literally all their time flirting and teasing each other anyway. And they’re partners. It’s not like the proximity will be a problem.”

“Yeah, sure,” Blaise scoffed. “Until they try to go home, Weasley!” Ron scowled. He cleared his throat. Blaise sighed; reticent, Weasley was dangerous. It almost always ended up with Blaise doing a shit tonne of paperwork and sitting in front of the Wizengamot.

He didn’t need to tell anyone that the plans were almost always brilliant and worthwhile, as well.

“What’s your brilliant idea, then?” Blaise asked reluctantly.

“We put them on the Maffin case.”

Blaise’s head snapped back to Ron; his brain was working so fast, he barely had time to actually notice the freckles that decorated the man’s chest in a beautiful splatter or the scars that marred the surface in a masterful maze all down his arm.

“That actually is Brilliant,” Blaise murmured, thoughts whirling. “Bloody hell, Ron. How long have you been working on that one.”

“Took me about twenty minutes to get there,” Ron admitted, rubbing the back of his neck and looking extremely uncomfortable. “I’ve just spent the past four hours working up the nerve to suggest it.”

Blaise laughed. “Don’t know why’d you be nervous, mate. We’ve all agreed those two need to get over themselves. This is just…an unfortunately convenient confluence.”

“So wait,” Ron clarified. “We agree. We don’t tell Draco or Harry about the side effects of the plants we confiscated this afternoon?” “Absolutely not.”

“And also, we put them on the unsolvable case that has had the last three Auror teams working on it basically living at the Ministry?”

“I think you may have accidentally become the most brilliant of all Ministry employees, today, Ron. Are we sure that accidental amourous bonding is the only side effect of Matiligha Root?”

“Fuck off,” Ron joked, pulling a shirt on his head and swinging his bag on his shoulder. “I’m going home to shower with soap that doesn’t smell like a very shit hotel. Night, Zabini.”

“Tomorrow, Weasley. I’ll go put in the memo before those idiots try to leave.”

“This is going to be hilarious.”

Draco was exhausted. He hadn’t slept properly in a week. Just like the last three teams that had tried to crack the Maffin ring of illegal potions transfers, he and Potter had decided to just stay in the office so that the alarms they set would actually result in an arrest. So far, they had not only been entirely unsuccessful, but Draco’s back may never again work properly thanks to the ancient cots Harry had found in a dingy closet on the fourth floor. By all rights, he should also be about ready to kill his partner. The fact that he is actually sort of content with the proximity is sort of alarming. More worryingly, he is actually starting to appreciate the gentle midnight snoring and morning coffee shared while sitting cross-legged on their separate beds.

“Morning,” Harry said blearily, returning to the office with large mugs and a tray hovering in front of them. “We’re in luck. Marjorie decided to do her job today and turned up on time to make pastries. These were outside the office door.”

“Oh Merlin, they smell good,” Draco groaned, taking a croissant and a scone, deciding immediately that he didn’t want to choose.

“I hate that you can eat like a twelve-year-old and stay fit,” Harry said with a yawn, handing him a coffee and settling down beside him on Draco’s mattress.

Draco froze. They were very close; his face heated and he shuffled slightly away from Harry, who frowned. Draco knew the problem. He didn’t want to move away. He was actually pretty sure at this point that Harry didn’t want him to move away either, but he had no idea how to handle that in the middle of their office floor. It had become much more noticeable this week; they’d been spending way too much time together. It was getting harder and harder to deal with the gentle teasing tone, the subtle touches on the shoulder instead of saying his name to get his attention, the fact that they frequently side-along Apparated unnecessarily, or the distinct reality that when they landed, they often stayed attached at the arms for a hiccup longer than was strictly required to regain balance.

The more important realisation of Potter being this close, though, was that the gentle hum of the air around them seemed to still and the ache in the back of his skull disappeared the moment Harry sat. It couldn’t be a coincidence.

“Headache again?” Harry asked, brows knitted.

“No, actually,” Draco exclaimed.

“That’s what I was just noticing. First time in days.”

“You should go see a healer,” Harry muttered around a bite of scone, leaning back against the wall and drawing his knees up.

“Nah, I’m sure it’s just stress. We should both go home tonight.” Draco shrugged.

“Yeah, alright,” Harry agreed. “Could use a proper shower and a mattress.”

Draco nodded. Not to mention an actual wank, he let himself think.

The day was uneventful; they did paperwork, managed to convince the uppers that they were making progress, and finally, packed up to go home.

“Night, Malfoy,” Harry said, drawing his coat over his shoulders. “Think maybe tomorrow we should go back up to Scotland to check on that uncle thing again.”

“Yeah, alright,” Draco replied, passing Harry his briefcase.

They nodded to each other and Harry stood on the Apparition spot.

Draco fell immediately to the floor; his head split in two, and there may have been a scream emitting from his mouth, but he passed out before he confirmed it. In the last moment of his consciousness, he managed to punch the badge on his chest until it glowed purple.

When he opened his eyes again, his head was in Harry’s lap, and there was a distinct smell of ozone in the office. “There’s a healer on the way,” Harry said hoarsely. “You’ve been out since I turned back up. Did you see what happened?”

“Nothing happened,” Draco insisted, trying and failing to sit up. He collapsed again and Harry’s hand, he noticed, went back to his hair, stroking it back from his face gently.

“Well, obviously something happened. I left and then—”

“The headache just got really bad,” Draco interrupted.Harry stared at him for a moment, then pushed his glasses up onto the top of his head. He sighed.

“Draco, when did the headaches start?”

“I told you, when we got the Maffin case.”

“Yeah, and do you remember the day of Zabini handing off the Maffin case.”

“Assume that right now, I don’t remember much,” Draco said softly, his head fuzzy and warm in Potter’s lap. He was afraid to shift too much, make Harry aware that he was still there.

“Matiligha Root,” Harry explained. “I haven’t thought about it until now because this case has been so stressful. Of course you’ve had a headache and passed out when I left. We’re bonded.”

Draco’s brow tightened. “No, we can’t be. We’d have noticed. The bond affects…they’re super obvious. Overwhelming attraction. Inability to be apart. Emotional upheaval.”

Harry looked away and Draco knew he was not imagining the extreme blush on his face. “Well, usually, yes,” Harry said gruffly. “Only…”

“What?” Draco demanded, sitting up in alarm despite the spinning it caused him. “Say what you’re thinking. Am I dying? Is this a particularly potent bond? We both know you’re the plant guy around here, so out with it.”

“No, it’s just…” Harry hesitated. “Well, I mean, the root hasn’t been studied on people who are… erm… already…”

Draco suddenly understood. “Oh,” he whispered.

“Yeah,” Harry returned, now the colour of a beetroot. “I think maybe I wouldn’t have noticed. That’s why I didn’t get the headache.”

Draco stared at Harry for a moment, taking in the implications of that last phrase; surely, Draco thought, even he was not this clueless? Yet, it seemed that that was what Harry meant. He seemed to be convinced that he was the only one who would not have noticed a sudden influx of flirting, attraction, desire for one’s Auror partner.

Ignoring the dizziness, Draco made a decision; he crawled forward toward Harry and gently took his glasses off his head. He didn’t want to break them. He kept advancing until he was leaning into Harry, then kept going. He slowly backed them both onto the floor and let his weight collapse onto Harry, who didn’t seem to be breathing.

“I have a headache because I can’t bear to be more than a foot away from you,” Draco whispered, pinning Harry to the floor a little less gently. “So which of us do you think would have noticed first?”

He kissed Harry gently. He didn’t want to be gentle; the hum had grown louder, but it was warm and comforting. He wanted to ravage this man right here on the floor, wreck him for all others, possess him until there was no doubt in his mind that Draco felt the same way. He didn’t even really care if it was only the bond that made him feel this way. He managed to restrain himself only because the distant memory of an approaching Healer balanced with sudden irritation. He pulled back and smoothed out Harry’s hair. Harry took a deep breath, likely the result of lack of oxygen.

“You realise, of course, that we have to kill Weasley and Zabini now,” Draco said quietly. Harry grinned. “Do you think they knew?”

“Draco, not to be indelicate,” Harry replied, drawing his arms around Draco’s waist and pulling him back down to him. “I think that it’s possible everyone knew?”

#drarry #oneshot #it's too long to be a drabble #auror potter #auror malfoy #bond #plant based bonding?#also there's some accidental side blaise/ron that i may look into later #smirk smirk

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homespork-review · 5 years

Text

Homespork Act 1: The Note Dawdling Tension Plays (Part 1)

A young man stands in his bedroom. It just so happens that today, the 13th of April, 2009, is this young man's birthday. Though it was thirteen years ago he was given life, it is only today he will be given a name!

CHEL: Here we see the first page, and are introduced to our protagonist, ZOOSMELL POOPLORD! Sorry, I mean John Egbert. The joke names used as a running gag, and also the actual names which end up applied to the characters, were the suggestions of the players of the original forum game.

BRIGHT: Homestuck does start out strongly in several ways. It immediately establishes the protagonist and location. It sets the tone it will use, one based heavily on a text adventure computer game. It introduces the reader to the inventory system...

And here the first feature of Homestuck becomes apparent: although a hugely popular and widely known webcomic, it is very slow to get going. The new reader who arrives on the recommendation of others ends up scratching their head and wondering if they’re in the right place.

TIER: In ancient times (so somewhere in 2014/15) I actually attempted to read Homestuck to see what the occasional weird noises the name caused were going on about. I'm very certain that I didn't even make it to meeting any of the other kids I was so bored.

CHEL: Same here. It took me two or three attempts to get to that point. The problem is that the intro is left over from its days as a forum game, in which no one was expecting it to lead into the epic story it became. It worked great for that format, but less well now. And here we start on our first counts.

GET ON WITH IT!: 1 HOW NOT TO WRITE A WEBCOMIC: 2

How Not to Write a Novel lists multiple errors which could be said to apply here:

The Waiting Room - wherein the story is too long delayed Here the writer churns out endless scenes establishing background information with no main story in sight. On chapter 3, the reader still has no idea why it’s important to know about [the background info, in this case how badly John fails at using technology]. By chapter 7, the reader would be having strong suspicions that it isn’t important, were a reader ever to make it as far as chapter 7. Zeno’s Manuscript - in which irrelevant detail delays narrative momentum Any scene can be killed by description of every meaningless component of whatever action the character undertakes. As in Zeno’s Paradox, in which an arrow never reaches its target because it must always travel half the remaining distance, the reader begins to feel as if the end is further and further away.

A comic about a kid failing to master a video game inventory system is mildly amusing once, but not when it drags on this long, and it’s not particularly fitting for an epic adventure involving the fate of universes. Well, that’s not quite fair; introduction to mundane life and slow revelation of the magical goings-on works fine for books like the Harry Potter series. But, to take Philosopher’s Stone as an example, multiple different odd things happen over the course of Uncle Vernon’s regular boring day, increasing in scale until it’s very clear something strange is going on, and establishing multiple aspects of the wizarding world, e.g. owls, their fashion, the existence and disappearance of a mysterious villain, the fact that the wizarding world is supposed to be secret.

John fucking about with his sylladex and putting up movie posters for page after page doesn’t tell us anything new. Failing to use the sylladex once would be enough to get the point that magical video game inventories are a thing in this world and John’s not very good at using them across, and then we really ought to move on, and we can already see the posters on his walls so we don’t need to see him hanging more. Possibly we could have needed the latter in a purely text format where we couldn’t see the walls, or in a comic without text description at the bottom where attention would need to be drawn to them on-panel. Admittedly, it does establish him picking up the hammer, which becomes relevant, but we don’t need a full page each for both the action of him picking up the hammer and the action of him hanging the poster.

… Who hangs a poster with nails, anyway? His walls must be in a hell of a state.

For that matter, that’s another HNTWAN entry or two:

The Second Argument in the Laundromat - a scene which occurs twice NEVER use two scenes to establish the same thing. We do not, under any circumstances, want a series of scenes in which the hero goes to job interviews but fails to get the job, or has a series of unsuccessful dates to illustrate bad luck in love. This works in the movies, where three scenes can pass in thirty seconds, but not in a novel. The Redundant Tautology - wherein the author repeats himself If you have made a point in one way, resist the temptation to reinforce it by making it again. Do not reexpress it in more flowery terms, and do not have the character reaffirm it in dialogue […] This point is worth repeating; don’t reiterate. HOW NOT TO WRITE A WEBCOMIC: 4

Additionally, people with a lower tolerance for “lovable clumsy dork” characters are going to come to hate John before the comic’s even started, though it’s probably best that people who are going to hate the main character learn that quickly so they can leave. I can understand not wanting to lose the forum game which originally spawned the comic, the other people involved would probably not be pleased, but perhaps it would be better saved as a side story and trimmed down when the comic proper was released. At least they could be compressed down by showing multiple failures and multiple poster-hanging actions on single pages.

One other minor gripe might be the neologisms, such as “sylladex” meaning inventory. I found it fairly easy to pick up and it does make the tone and narration nicely distinctive, but it’s a level of extra complication. How Not to Write a Novel has a couple points on excessively baroque wordplay - do you guys think it’s worth giving it a point for that?

BRIGHT: Possibly not in this case - wordplay is a feature of HS and this one is at least made fairly clear. There are plenty of offenders later on as I recall though...

CHEL: Okay, seems fair. In this case it is more of a feature than a bug. It does establish the narrative voice and add to the video game theme. However, the movie posters also bring up an addition to our third count.

Plus, a black president? Now you’ve seen everything! WHITE SBURB POSTMODERNISM: 1

A reference to the song “White Suburb Impressionism”, by IAMX…

"IAMX - 'White Suburb Impressionism" (Watch on YouTube)

… this count goes up whenever characters behave in a way which suggests they’re, well, white and suburban (or wealthier), despite any attempts to present them otherwise. This would have passed without comment, but Hussie later tried to claim he’d always intended the kids to be “aracial”, so any reader could project themselves or their preferred headcanons onto the kids. As we’ll show you, we don’t believe him, or at least don’t believe he succeeded. That would probably be difficult to pull off, anyway. Race affects a lot more than features on a stylised sprite.

FAILURE ARTIST: Now, I can’t quite put my finger on it but John’s and Dave’s opinion on black presidents in movies (that it’s a gimmick ruined by Obama’s election) feels like something that would only come out of a white mouth i.e. Andrew Hussie’s. Not the most egregious case of implied whiteness but still worth noting.

CHEL: The point of the joke here is not 100% clear, and that’ll be a thing which comes up later as well. See, I agree that’s Dave’s opinion, but I thought the point was that John genuinely didn’t know there was a black president at the time of writing because he’s already been established to be not exactly a genius and so far he’s been focused on movies and video games instead of real life. Maybe I’m underestimating him, though, since admittedly not very much of him has been shown at this point and it’s been a while since I read the whole thing. I’m not going to start using the ARE YOU TRYING TO BE FUNNY count here, though, because here Hussie clearly was trying to be funny. It just isn’t clear to me what about it was supposed to be funny. That’s probably my autism talking, though. Jokes are hard. I agree that it sounds like a white kid’s opinion either way - even the dimmest black American kid would know Obama existed, and so most likely would non-black people of colour.

Anyway! Things pick up a bit when John, under the username ectoBiologist, starts chatting to the second character to be introduced, currently known as turntechGodhead, though the second topic of conversation is a reference to a 1989 movie which, as time goes on, will be familiar to fewer and fewer readers. Luckily, the writer realises this, and the content of the conversation makes the reference sufficiently clear without falling into As You Know dialogue.

FAILURE ARTIST: Namely, their conversation is about a scene where - pardon me for being gross but it’s in the comic - a character accidentally ingests urine instead of apple juice. John and TG are surprised the character knew it was urine but I find it weird that someone with working smell would not know what it is. Urine has a distinct odor.

CHEL: Well, be fair. According to the drawings, the characters in question don’t have noses!

FAILURE ARTIST: On a more pertinent note, this conversation is an edited version of one Hussie and a friend had. Perhaps Hussie was TG? TG is practically an Author Avatar for Hussie. Sure, Hussie literally appears in the comic later, but TG seems to fit his true personality better. We’ll see how that affects things for better or for worse.

BRIGHT: This is also the reader’s introduction to the Pesterlog. This is one of those things that seems like it should be out of place in a webcomic - it’s just a page of two people talking to each other in chatlog format, with no other information - but the Pesterlogs actually work surprisingly well.

FAILURE ARTIST: When I first read Homestuck, I didn’t know you had to click on the Pesterlog to open it. I just sat around wondering what amazing conversations they were having. I’m not the only one I think who made that mistake.

CHEL: Yeah, I think I briefly had the same problem, but I don’t remember for sure. Possibly more attention could be drawn to the button.

TIER: I would've probably ended up in the same boat if the friends that recommended I read Homestuck didn't specifically tell me not to accidentally overlook them!

CHEL: That’s not exactly a writing error, so I’m not sure it falls under our jurisdiction, but it’s a point that ought to be brought up. The Pesterlogs do work well once the reader actually sees them, anyway. It’s actually pretty interesting to see how much information can be conveyed in a conversation without falling into As You Know Bob. Let’s check what points are introduced in this first one, for example:

- John really loves what he got for his birthday, a Little Monsters poster. From this we know he’s not spoiled (this is how you do it, Meyer) and easily entertained, and likely has a good home life, as he’s so happy and grateful about a gift from his dad.

-turntechGodhead has apple juice in his closet. This establishes his odd home life, and gets explained in more detail later.

- Some things about the personalities of both kids. John is enthusiastic and a joker, TG is mellower, sarcastic, rambles a bit, and at least plays at being cool.

- John really wants to play the SBURB Beta, a game mentioned earlier which is late being released. TG is less keen, again trying to be cool about it.

- Said game got “slammed” by critics, despite the fact that we learned earlier from John’s SBURB-logo calendar that this game has been hyped to hell and back and must be popular, with merchandise and reviews being released before even the beta version of the game is out. Something weird is going on; someone really wants a lot of people to play this game.

Not bad considering a total lack of body language reference or narration. Das Sporking’s seen authors using traditional narration do worse!

FAILURE ARTIST: The (adult) critics of Game Bro get into shenanigans that prevent them from playing the game they reviewed. Perhaps there’s something in the game that prevents itself from being played by adults, just like how adults can’t pilot Evangelions in the anime Neon Genesis Evangelion.

CHEL: Not sure. Doesn’t one of Dad’s online friends play it, or at least get caught up in it, later on? Though that part’s obviously supposed to be a joke… Maybe instead it’s a built-in way to stop anyone who might be listened to warning others what it does?

As established earlier, said beta is late; this is a reference to the originally planned launch date of the comic, three days before it actually ended up being released. Also, there’s a pun you may have missed in the background. The programming files on John’s desktop include the phrase “^CAKE”. The ^ symbol is called a carot. Get used to noticing those. It’s pretty amazing how many references, self-references, puns, and recurring themes are worked in, and people such as revolutionaryduelist have made semi-careers picking them all out. We won’t bother with all of them or we’ll be here all century, but we’ll pick up on any obvious ones.

FAILURE ARTIST: Hussie majored in computer science so there’s lot of computer science in-jokes in the beginning.

BRIGHT: Something I just noticed: One of the other files on John’s desktop is ‘TYPHEUS’. It even has a Denizen icon! Probably something that has been brought up plenty of times before, but still nifty on a reread.

CHEL: Typheus and Denizens will come up later in the comic.

TIER: When he feels like it, Hussie is immensely good at foreshadowing later events in pretty subtle but solid ways. It's stuff like this that makes times when he does fumble look worse than they probably are in comparison.

#homestuck #review #let's read #reread #literary critique #sporking #homespork #homestuck meta

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lyravellas · 6 years

Text

and many more

Kravitz does not have a birthday.

Obviously he had a birthday at some point, years and years ago, but he certainly doesn’t remember it anymore. That’s just kind of what happens when you’re a. dead and b. the grim reaper for an extended period of time. The situation doesn’t lend itself particularly well to maintaining a steady social life, much less yearly celebrations with friends. The Raven Queen is very nice, but she doesn’t really know what birthdays are. Kravitz isn’t completely sure if she was ever actually born. The metaphysics of Faerun is a somewhat headache-inducing situation.

He mentions all of this to Taako during a lull in the conversation one night, while the elf is draped idly across both his lap and the sofa in front of the television. Taako is not an easy person to dumbfound — being a universe-hopping, planet-saving, wildly successful chef and wizard can do that to you — but this information absolutely blows him away. Kravitz would gloat about it, but he’s too busy dealing with an immediate, rapid-fire line of questioning from his boyfriend: how old is he, exactly? (He’s not sure.) Does he know what month his birthday was in? (He doesn’t.) Does he even remember the last time he had a birthday party? (He does not. He can’t even remember what he had for breakfast this morning. This is a lost cause.) Taako speaks with his hands like he always does when he gets excited about things, punctuating each question with exclamations like “How did this happen, Krav? How?!” and a few emphatic statements of “What the fuck!” as prestidigitated sparks shoot wildly from his fingertips.

Once Kravitz has reassured his boyfriend that yes, he did have an actual birthday at one point and no, he didn’t spring fully-fledged from the brain of the Raven Queen when he was born (“Sweetie, what the hell?”), Taako reclines back down into his lap and hums thoughtfully to himself. He runs a finger absently through Kravitz’s hair out of habit. It sends a few wayward sparks fizzing gently about the reaper’s ears.

Then Taako excuses himself rather abruptly by launching his entire body up and over the back of the sofa with a wholly unnecessary levitation spell, startling both Kravitz and their cats in the process. After a solemn apology to James Buffett Jr. and Stinky Fur Man, Taako waves his stone of farspeech wildly around his head and declares that he needs to take a call (“Do you mean make a call, darling?” “I never make calls, I only take them.”). He then departs the room with a flourish, after tilting Kravitz’s head back for a lingering kiss that leaves the reaper feeling more than a little light-headed.

Taako is gone for several minutes. Kravitz becomes preoccupied with staring very hard at the wallpaper and trying to remember how old he actually is. He is unsuccessful. He develops a very bad headache in the process.

When Taako finally returns, he throws himself dramatically back onto the couch (and into Kravitz’s lap), and declares, “Alright babe, you’re gonna share mine.”

And Kravitz says “What?” because it’s been ten minutes, he has a headache, and Taako is pretty to the point of being very distracting.

The elf tucks the stone of farspeech back beneath the collar of his shirt and snaps his fingers (which forces Kravitz to tear his gaze away from the mesmerizing strip of skin at the curve of his boyfriend’s collarbone). “You’re gonna share my birthday. I went and talked to Lulu about it, and she says it’s fine. She’s excited about it, actually, even though I don’t think she’ll ever let me live this one down.” He sighs dramatically. “Ch’boy always used to complain about having to share a birthday back when we were kids, and now here I am asking her for a plus one. The things I do for love.” Taako pauses and then squints up at his boyfriend. “Krav. You doin’ alright up there? You’ve been kinda quiet.”

Kravitz is experiencing a very large number of emotions in a very small period of time.

He recognizes excitement almost immediately — if there’s one thing that he remembers about birthdays, it’s that they’re a lot of fun. And now he gets to experience his with the people he loves most in the world. The thought of spending a day surrounded by Taako’s endearing grandstanding and Lup’s infectious laughter sends warmth whispering through his silent veins.

There’s also a little bit of fear, because he was at the twin’s last birthday and so he knows exactly what can happen at their parties. And if he and Lucretia have to explain to the authorities why the entire city of New Phandalin levitated into the air for exactly twenty-six minutes again, then he is absolutely going to come back to life just so he can die again.

But for some reason, he also feels sad.

He hasn’t thought about things like this, like birthdays and balloons and parties, for years. It’s just been him and his job, alone except for the distant lights floating in the never-ending expanse of the astral plane, for as long as he can remember. The Raven Queen used to gently encourage him to try going out and meeting new people, but all of her well-meaning attempts had steadily diminished over the years as he’d continued to rebuff her suggestions.

Kravitz’s greatest fear has always been this: if he lets himself get tangled back up in the world of the living, the weight of all the things that he failed to do before joining the Raven Queen’s retinue will eventually crush him.

For far too many years to count, he’d refused to let himself believe that there might be any option besides cutting himself off from the material plane entirely. But now this beautiful, lovable elf, who is too loud and too brash and too proud sometimes (and who he loves more than life itself), has taken him by the hands and pulled him headfirst into something he hadn’t even let himself realize he’d missed.

He can feel a strange wetness gathering behind his eyes; a sensation that feels comfortingly familiar, yet still somewhat alien after all the years that time has spent moving steadily on without him.

Taako sits up and puts his arms around Kravitz and just holds him silently for a while. He gets it. Both of them do. Loneliness leaves scars that re-open at the strangest times.

They stay like that until Kravitz finally lifts his face from where it’s buried in Taako’s shoulder, and James Buffet Jr. takes the opportunity to hop up onto his lap and curl into his arms to make sure he’s okay. Then they sit together on the sofa as the television drones gently on in the background and talk about plans for their next birthday: about how great it’s going to be, about how Merle is not allowed near the flower arrangements, about how Barry is absolutely not allowed to raise any members of the fantasy Beatles from the dead to perform. Eventually, the few wayward tears give way to laughter instead.

Their next birthday is legendary.

The moon is directly overhead and also on fire for the better part of thirty-five minutes. An entire building in Rockport gets transmuted into a fourteen-layer birthday cake. The Raven Queen shows up — making several individuals in attendance nearly pass out in fear — in order to wish everyone a happy birthday, and also to figure out what exactly a birthday actually is. She walks around arm in arm with Istus, who brings everyone hand-knitted sweaters as presents. All of the clergymen in the nearby vicinity collectively shit themselves in amazement.

After the festivities are all over and everyone has returned to their respective homes, Kravitz and Taako find themselves back on their sofa, with the radio in the background reporting softly on the ridiculously ostentatious display of fireworks that had lit up the skies over Neverwinter that evening.

“How was your very first birthday à la Taako, cupcake?” Taako asks Kravitz as the latter flops down onto his lap. “Actually quick side note, we definitely have to figure out how old your ass actually is at some point. Not that it’d make much of a difference, since you’ve got the whole spooky scary skeleton thing going on at work most of the time, but I want to see the look on people’s faces when I tell them that my boyfriend is over six hundred years old.”

“That’s an adventure for another time, I think.” A smile creeps across Kravitz’s lips. “Lucretia just finished putting out the moon. I don’t think Faerun can take any more excitement in one night.”

“Boring, but fair.” Taako sighs in mock disappointment. “That leaves yours truly with the responsibility of ‘final surprise of the night’, then.” He snaps his fingers and a perfectly wrapped package materializes in the palm of his hand, accompanied by a glittery puff of magical confetti. “Ta-da! Faerun’s favorite wizard does it again.”

Kravitz clears his throat. “Not to one-up Faerun’s favorite wizard, but...” he trails off as he reaches into his pocket and pulls out a small, clumsily wrapped package.

Taako puts a hand over his heart and pretends to fan himself in shock. “Betrayal! Upstaged by the love of my life! I’ll let it slide it this time, Krav, but next time...” He continues his mock tirade as he lifts the gift out of Kravitz’s hands and leans forward to press a kiss to the side of his jaw. “Next time I’m talking dozens of major images, plus a Taako original dance number! Me, popping out of a chocolate fountain, dressed in lingerie that is not from Fantasy Costco! Just you wait.”

Kravitz raises an eyebrow and manages to keep a straight face. “Consider me warned,” he says, as Taako begins unwrapping the package. Kravitz’s fingers move toward his own gift, but he pauses and watches with bated breath as his boyfriend tears off the final layer of wrapping paper.

Taako lifts the lid off of a tiny brown box and peers inside. Even Faerun’s favorite wizard can’t manage to keep the shock off of his face.

“It’s not a... this isn’t a proposal,” Kravitz says quickly. “We don’t have to... you know, do anything in the near future, if you don’t want to, it’s just sort of... it’s a promise? Since we talked about it, and I—”

Taako uses one hand to take the ring out of the box and the other to press a finger to Kravitz’s lips. “Yes. Yes, of course, you gigantic nerd. I love it. I love you.”

Kravitz scoops Taako up into a wordless hug, spinning him around while simultaneously trying to land kisses wherever he can reach, smiling as the elf lets out a peal of laughter.

“So the way I see it, we’ve got two options.” Taako wraps his arms around Kravitz’s neck as the reaper sets him back down onto the ground. “Option one: we get hitched next Tuesday. We invite everyone. We party, ride off into the sunset, and then bang. Easy peasy.” A mischievous smile spreads across the elf’s face. “Or, option two: we play the long game.”

Kravitz’s grin maches Taako’s. “An extended engagement, then?”

“Lup and Barold refused to admit that they even liked each other for years. It was torture.” Taako rolls his eyes. “But we’ve got all the time in the world, hot stuff! So let’s drag this out. Be as lovey-dovey as possible. Really make ‘em wait for it.”

Kravitz laughs. “But... not for too long,” he says, reaching up to rest his palm against his boyfriend’s cheek.

“Not for too long,” Taako agrees.

#taz balance #taz #the adventure zone #taakitz #THIS HAS NOT BEEN EDITED FORGIVE ME #I JUST MISS THEM #taz fanfic #lauren's writing tag

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ivebeensunburnt · 5 years

Text

Planets as Boys

The sun (let's name him Elio, its a name derived from the name Helios who is a sun titan in Greek myths)

You met him in winter

While sledding

You crashed into him while he was walking up the hill and he ended up sitting on your lap for the rest of the ride down

'Usually, I like to take a girl out to dinner before sitting on her lap but this is fine I guess. Can I at least get your number'

'I don't even know your name'

'It's Elio, and I don't know yours either but you're the one who got me to sit on your lap'

'You were in the way!'

'I was walking on the path, you were not sledding in the right place'

'Yes, I was!'

'Stop getting so riled up sunshine, I'm just messing with you'

'Fine. You can have my number. But I expect you not to be in the way of my sled next time.'

'Maybe next time you can sit on my lap ;)'

'Omg, I think I want my number back'

'Don't lie sunshine, you think I'm hot'

'I think you're a little warm'

'I can't tell if that's a compliment or not'

'It's not'

'Bummer. I think you're pretty cute sunshine'

His flirting never fails to make you blush

Of course, you end up excepting his offer to go on a date

And before long you're dating

As you start to spend a lot of time with him you start to tan a bit

It's not very noticeable at first

But after hanging out with him for a couple weeks you have a light tan

'Wtf? I don't even go outside'

You'd ask him about it and he'd just laugh

'Oops'

Wherever he kisses you freckles show up (haha get it? Sunkissed)

It's how your friends find out you guys are dating

'So... You and Elio?'

'Wdym'

'Sis you have freckles everywhere'

'I-' *blush*

At least they can't see where else he leaves freckles

His hair is bleach white blonde

Not even because he dyes it

Just naturally

Very tan

Golden skin that is so, so pretty

CLEAR SKIN

Like how tf does he keep it that clear

So many freckles on this boy

Mostly on his face and arms but a few everywhere else

Would refuse to leave the house if it was raining at all

Even just sprinkling

He hates it.

Amber eyes that are so warm and inviting

They're just so pretty

Heat machine

You know how boys always manage to be warm

Like that but x50

You're always asking if he feels like he has a fever

'No I'm just that hot ;)'

'Omg pls shut up'

You would try to steal his hoodies but he doesn't have any

And you're like

'Elio... Where tf are your hoodies?'

'.... I don't have any'

'I can't believe you'

Gives the best fucking hugs anyone could ask for

Like 100/10

And is always open to giving them too

'Elio i want a hug'

'OMG YASSS COME HERE BABY'

Snuggles are the best with him

An absolute extrovert

Willing to go out whenever it's not raining

If he does gave to go out while its raining you know he'll have bright yellow rain boots

And a yellow poncho

With a Pikachu umbrella

Is he 5?

Probably.

A bit full of himself

'I'm so hot babe'

'Ooo my hair looks fabbb today'

'I look like a GoDdeSs'

Like the world revolves around him

Great leader (when he's not being immature)

Takes charge

Being in a group project with him would be so great

Especially if he's interested in the topic

A perfectionist when it comes to work or grades

Acts like he doesn't care about it but you can tell he does

As a boyfriend he would always want to be with you

Touching you

And kissing you

Skinship is the shit for him

Beach days are a must

Sandcastle KING

Would drag you outside just to sit in the sun when its nice outside

Which leads to you never taking your shoes off during the summer and fall months because you never know when he's gonna want to take you outside

And always having a book with you to read outside

He's always happy

Except when it's raining

Scared of thunderstorms but will hold a giant ass spider and talk to it like its a cute baby

Will also be 100% down to go bungee jumping or anything crazy like that

Never gets sunburned

One time he actually tried to but was unsuccessful

'Ok I'm gonna lay here for 3 hours and by then i better have a sunburn!'

*unconcerned* ' u do u boo'

His favorite color is yellow

He has at least 10 plain yellow shirts that he wears with everything

Converse are the only shoes he's willing to wear

With the occasional pair of vans

Is always saying he wants sunflower vans but never does

Sleeps with the lights on

Which annoys the crap out of anyone who has had to sleep in the same room as him

They just end up turning off the lights once he's asleep

Does 5ks and other runs for fun?? Like every weekend

Basically a jock

Will try every sport once

Especially likes soccer

And volley ball

And don't even get him started on sharks and minnows that is his game

Will never tell you when he's sad

If he tells you when he's sad he has got to be in love with you

Or trust you A LOT

Will make up stupid excuses like he has to go walk his turtle to escape situations that make him sad, so you won't see

When did he get a turtle?

One time you saw him crying and were shocked for a week

He still won't tell you why he was crying that day

He's one of those people who will laugh at the absolute worst times

Somebody's crying or screaming and yelling and he'll be in the corner laughing his ass off

Basically a little shit

Dumb dad jokes one minute

And dirty jokes the next

Laughs at his own jokes

His favorite nickname for you would definitely be sunshine

And you would be like????

'Babe. You👏 Are👏 Literally👏 The embodiment👏 Of the👏 Fucking sun👏'

When you first start dating he'll be so fucking sweet

Like a bag of fucking sugar

After a couple months tho?

That boy is nasty

Try to make him blush

Just try

This boy is shameless. Nothing will make him blush

He will dirty talk up a STORM

Don't even try wearing a short skirt around him because within 10 min. He'll be whispering in you ear

'Did you wear that for me?'

'I really like it on you'

'It would look a lot better on my floor tho'

Yes, he's that cheesy

Even tho he's nast af he'll still be super fucking cute with you

100% cutest couple you've ever seen

feeding each other

Sitting on his lap

PDA

Always holding hands in public

Dates at least once a week

He ways finds times for a date

Sometimes it's just coming over to snuggle

Or going to a super fancy restaurant in a suit and everything

He'll try to pay for the meal every time

But you'll be like sis no and give your credit card to the waiter before he can

He'll glare at you for a second but can't stay mad and will just end up kissing you

Oh boy,,,,,,

Kisses with him

They'd be so nice

First he would lick his lips while looking at yours

He would get really shy

'C-can I kiss you please'

'Of course'

At first he would be the sweetest softest kisser

He would put a hand on the back if your neck with his fingers tangled in the roots of you hair

He would put his other hand on your hip very softly so you would barely even be able to feel it

For the first 10-15 seconds it would be just lips, no toungue

He would like your bottom lip asking for entrance

And this is where he would lose it

When people say 'they're shoving their tongues down each other's throats' this is exactly what they mean

He would tighten his grip on your hair tugging a little

He would move his other hand from your hip to your back pulling you closer to him

He would literally not stop kissing you till you both were about suffocate and it takes you both minutes to catch you breath before you can talk again

'Jesus christ'

He would just smile at you and pull you im for a quick kiss before telling you that you are perfect

Then being a little shit like

'Almost as perfect as me'

Even tho he's your boyfriend he would also be your bestest friend

You could talk for hours with him and just goof off without trying to act perfect

for him (cuz he already thinks you are)

Since he's always warm he loves the snow

(But he doesn't like rain? Weirdo.)

Like, SO much

Especially the morning after its snowed when the snow is smooth and untouched and the morning sun makes it all sparkly and pretty

Of course he'll ruin it by throwing a snowball directly at your face

You'll fake crying like it really hurt you and he'll go from

:D to :0 in .2 seconds

'Omg sunshine. Are you ok? I'm so sorry. Omg.omg.omg. do we need to go to the hospital? I'm so sorry.'

He would almost be crying when youre like sike bitch

And throw one right back at his face

Which would lead to an all-out snowball fight that lasts for an hour before you're shivering your way back inside

Then you would snuggle up on the couch with him and watch movies till you fall asleep

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vvivacious101 · 5 years

Text

Regarding Dean and Cas, Part 2

So recapping Season 4 in brief, Cas and Dean are initially antagonistic. Then they become almost friends who are occasionally on different sides of the debate leading to Cas being re-educated because of the emotions he had started to develop followed by Dean once and for all bringing Cas over onto his side leading to Cas sacrificing himself for Dean’s cause. Wow, when I put it like that how is it that Dean is able to sway Cas so much that Cas dies for his cause and indirectly dies for him, to give Dean the time to avert an apocalypse.

So the first scene worth mentioning in 5x01, Sympathy for the Devil, is the scene where Dean learns about Cas’ death. Initially, I had always interpreted the scene as a little too casual for the relationship these two characters had developed, I felt like Dean needed to do something more but re-watching the scene makes me realise that what Dean implies by the dialogues in that scene is that he would rather Cas be alive than be dead for helping him. Which put another way is basically that he would prefer Cas being alive to averting the apocalypse, which is the cause for which Cas sacrificed himself. But since Dean was unsuccessful in actually averting the apocalypse I guess what the line actually means is that he doesn’t think Cas should have sacrificed himself for what turned out to be a failed endeavour. Either way, this has implications because interpreted one way this could mean that at this very moment Dean regrets having Cas betray Heaven for him. He regrets that Cas ended up being collateral damage. Anyway, I said this was one interpretation but I really don’t see another.

Well, thankfully nobody needs to grieve for long because Cas comes to Dean and Sam’s rescue but is back to being cryptic and his behaviour in this episode is very similar to his behaviour in 4x03 which was when Dean asked him the following question:

What are you allergic to straight answers, you son of a bitch?!

The next scene Cas and Dean share is in the very next episode when Cas comes to borrow Dean’s amulet, the Samulet. The thing about these scenes in 5x01 and 5x02 is that there are other characters present in the scene in the first scene we have Zachariah (in the beginning) and Sam and in the second we have Sam and Bobby, and Cas converses with all characters in both scenes but his conversations with Dean in both episodes are the significant ones and also the longest ones. In the first episode, Dean and Sam are framed on one side with Cas opposite them. In all frames with Dean and Sam, Dean is the focus this changes for like a second when it comes to Sam’s line (yeah only one) and the camera is back to focusing on Dean. In the second episode, Dean and Cas are shot similar to how they are shot in 4x07 remember that conversation in which Dean and Cas forget that Uriel and Sam are in the same room. This conversation is similar we have Cas come in, talk to Bobby, then the conversation shifts to Dean and Cas with Sam’s only contribution being “Why’s that?” This conversation is literally epic Cas is so dominant in this one harkening back to his tone in 4x02 when he threatens Dean also the entire conversation is taking place in the presence of Bobby and Sam but Cas and Dean hardly seem to realise this, till the conversation again has to shift so that Bobby and Sam can join in temporarily with Cas’ purpose for visiting again being connected to Dean this time specifically the Samulet. There is another interesting part about this latter scene with Dean because Cas and Dean are back to communicating with their eyes something we last saw in Lucifer Rising, 4x22, when Cas rebels. Also, that entire conversation with Cas asking for the amulet is solid gold.

Dean: What, this?

Cas: May I borrow it?

Dean: No.

Cas: Dean. Give it to me.

Cas and Dean do their thing which is just another way of saying they look into each other’s eyes/ hold each other’s gaze.

Dean: Alright. I guess... Don’t. lose. it. Oh great, now I feel naked.

Cas: I’ll be in touch.

Of course, as I transcribe this conversation I realise I can’t quite put into words how many cues Cas and Dean seem to pick up by looking into each others’ eyes. They seem to be able to answer just about anything with their eyes.

Well, so far I feel like Supernatural hadn’t really committed itself to Destiel. If they really wanted they could have just continued with having Dean and Cas as they had in season 4 in an endless cycle of two steps forward two steps back. A lot of what Cas and Dean share in these first two episodes is recycled stuff from season 4 but then comes 5x03 which like it’s predecessor 4x03 is a turning point like no other.

Free to be you and me. Well, it says so in the title. This episode is amazing on multiple counts. Number one it is just a good episode, it’s really amazing. Secondly, in all 14 seasons of Supernatural, I have never seen Dean as happy as he is in this one and surprisingly this unabashed happiness comes at a time when there is an impending apocalypse and Dean is on the outs with Sam. This should have been the perfect excuse to take away every shred of Dean’s happiness but instead, it becomes the precursor. Actually, now that I think about it I have seen Dean this happy once more that was in 13x06, Tombstone and we know what was the source of his happiness in that one.

Have you ever heard anyone ever talk about Sam in Free to be You and Me because he is there. I have watched this episode twice and I was under the impression that Sam is just not there in the episode which my brain told me was impossible because Jared Padalecki is in every episode of Supernatural and I know this. Even in “In the Beginning” where Sam only appears for like the beginning minute of the episode, he is there and I thought Free to be You and Me was similar but it is not. Sam is really there in the episode and for the life of me I can guarantee no one has ever talked about Sam’s storyline in 5x03 because Dean and Cas so thoroughly drown anything else that isn’t them in this episode.

Let’s talk about personal space!

A lot of people have mentioned that we never actually see Dean have this supposed conversation about personal space with Cas and here in comes in the famed fandom gap. But, another thing I noticed is that Cas has never actually stepped into Dean’s personal space prior to this episode which then raises the question that how has he done it so many times that Dean raised the issue and actually had a converstaion about it. This isn’t A fandom gap this multipe fandom GAPS. Also, i love how Dean talks about Cas repsecting Dean’s perosnal space but he has no problem invading Cas’.

This episode is funny which made me so happy what with the FBI badge thing, then Cas being horribly truthful to the Deputy and the whole Chastity thing. Also, Dean laughing so freely, free to be you and me indeed.

Recently, I saw this post that talks about how turned on Dean looks when Cas is threatening Raphael in the hospital and I totally agree with it it. Totally check that out.

This is just an amazing amazing episode and they are so many of these in season 5. I can’t wait to set my eyes on them.

Another thing we have got to mention before I move onto “The End” is the fact that Dean compares Cas and himself to Thelma & Louise and Bert & Ernie in the same episode.

I agree with everything that lurea has to say about “The End” like everything you can find links to the meta here. But, let’s just focus to the two scenes Dean and Cas share in reality in this episode both which are like absolutely adorable. The first one is at the beginning of the episode and ends with Cas just standing under a lamp post waiting for Dean to get his rest before they can get doing what they have to next and this is just adorable Cas.

Okay, really if you watch this episode assuming Dean and Cas are lovers in the future it has an extremely different tone, like when Endverse!Dean gets jealous because Endverse!Cas likes past Dean more.

Okay but focusing on our Dean. Let’s not forget that when Endverse!Dean talks about using his people as decoys, the past Dean specifically asks one question, “Cas too?” because while we can argue the implications for Endverse!Dean the implications for our Dean are pretty straightforward he might consider sacrificing most of his people for teh cause but he draws the line at Cas. Cas is something special to Dean and he can’t believe that this Dean, future/Endverse version of himself is going to sacrifice Cas and even though this isn’t his Cas he still feels this way.

Then moving on to one of the other most iconic scenes between Dean and Cas.

This entire scene their expressions, their body languages, their dialogues are so intensely romantic. Like Dean’s wish for Cas to never change is also kind of steeped in romance, this is the Cas he loves and that’s why he never wants him to change. Of course considering the episode there are other implications this line of dialogue has but that still doesn’t chnage the way it’s delivered.

Dean and Cas in season 5 are just so intimate, at this point they are literally at their best. This is the point in the season when they seem to be reading each other’s minds.

So, of course for here on out we have them at loggerheads, almost. So, the next time Dean and Cas meet is in 5x06 and in the scenes they share Sam is basically chaperoning them and the first scene in this episode is Sam and Cas at loggerheads which is a nice contrast to the way he Cas just listens to Dean. Also, in one of the most telling parallels I love how carefully Dean puts back Cas’ statue as compared to Sam who kind of just puts it down rather carelessly compared to the care Dean shows.

Cas and Dean don’t interact at all in the next episode they both star in but I love the fact that in both 5x06 and 5x08, Dean is hell bent on making sure Cas gets rescued.

The beginning of this season is like Destiel heaven and then following “The End” with it’s implied subtext the scenes with Dean and Cas interacting is like at a steep decline. See, this is what I meant million steps forward and bilion backwards. But Dean calls Cas Huggy Bear in the very beginning of 5x10 that’s something.

Season 5 has been going pretty rapidly. 5x13 starts of with Cas trying to find Anna who is on a revenge tour and Dean kind of forces Cas to take both him and Sam to the past despite the fact that it would cost Cas a lot and a hate that about Dean. For once, I want him to put Cas’ needs firsts. I hate Dean’s selfishness. This is something of a sticky point which doesn’t come up much this season but just wait till Season 6 where the first two-thirds of the season is just Dean being obnoxiously selfish to Cas.

Next up is, 5x14 My Bloody Valentine, okay I like this episode. That phone call which starts this episode.

Yeah, well look at it but things get even more interesting when cupid shows up and hugs Dean from the back and Cas from the front literally drawing a line going through Dean to Cas and then we literally have Cupid facing Dean and Cas who are literally framed as a couple who are basically tag-teaming as they interrogate Cupid. That was one of the most effortlessly couple-y DeanCas moment.

This episode has Dean and Cas together for most of it’s duration which is always amazing. I definitely want to read more meta about this one because I can tell this is one episode that really has a whole lot of meaning that could be found by peeling back the layers.

Dean and Cas do have scenes in both 5x16 and 5x17 but they are more plot based and whenever they are not they are fairly antagonistic, I feel like the writers definitely were trying to detract but they are so bad at it. 5x17 we have drunk Cas who literally drank an entire liquor store and there are a lot of cutting remarks but at the end of the day when Cas has his head in his hands, Dean tries to make him feel better and that’s just it these two no matter how much you put them on opposing sides they find a way.

Next up is a legendary Destiel episode, 5x18, Point of No Return. I often say it is the point of no return when it comes to Dean and Cas’ relationship as well. It has this famous line -

Also, if you ever see all the scenes featuring Dean and Cas together in this episode one after the other, you will be shocked to believe you ever thought these two were platonic.

I mean these two are full on bickering in this episode, like a married couple. They are literally fighting, arguing but the moment Cas thinks something might be wrong with Dean he goes flying in, only to have Dean blast him away. The very next scene is like Exhibit A for this relatiosnhip the entire pummeling that Dean gets is yeah horrible, but it’s also an example of just how much Dean and his actions affect Cas and literally every dialogue Cas has during this sequence is powerful. We are finally bringing into focus the fact that Cas is in this situation because he chose to believe Dean and follow him on a path that was made of uncertainty away from the security Cas has known since his creation. Sometimes, I think we forget how big that step was for Cas and just what it might mean for him but this scene just brings it all back. It is the most visceral exhibit of everything he’s feeling, everything that Dean plunged him into feeling.

#supernatural #spn #supernatural seaosn 4 #cas #dean #destiel #myposts #supernatural season 5

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