#i don’t think it’s accurate to say she’s ‘done everything she can to distance herself from’ the movie that’s a huge exaggeration

[kindathoughtprovoking]

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[buckyownsmylife]

So I Take What I Want - Jake Gyllenhaal smut (ft. Tom Holland)

The one where Jake finally lets Tom watch him fuck you

Warnings: smut, cuckold!tom, mean!jake, voyeurism, overstimulation, possessiveness, cuck humiliation, name-calling, p in v, dacrophylia, light choking

Word count: under 2k

A/N: thank you to my lovely @sweetkingdomstarlight-blog for reading this over to me. As you might already know, this is part of my do it universe, and although it can be read by itself, I highly recommend you go read the other stories first.

Y/N’s P.O.V.

The first thing I remembered was feeling a gentle kiss pressed to the back of my hand, gently awakening me as two hands softly cradled my face, brushing the hair away from it.

“How are you feeling, beautiful?” Blinking a few times, I was able to focus on the familiar bearded face that was patiently waiting for my answer, prompting me to try to sit up so I could give him one.

“I’m alright,” I assured him, although every single muscle in my body ached. It was a good king of hurt though, the kind that you had after a great workout session… which I supposed was more or less what had happened.

“Good,” Jake smiled, kissing me unexpectedly, and my eyes widened before I closed them to accept his gesture. Sure, this was still a bit surprising - I associated such an intimate act as something to be shared between two persons with actual feelings for each other, but after everything Jake had done to my body, I couldn’t very well feel shy about him pressing his lips against mine. “Because I need to have you again.”

I gasped when I felt his hands yank my ankles so I was on the edge of the bed, my legs dangling from it. “W-Wait,” I asked as his hands kept me spread open for his gaze. I wanted to cover myself in an effort to hide from precisely that, especially since I could feel his spent threatening to fall from me, drip onto the hardwood floors beneath us. “What about Tom?”

Jake snickered, eyes still fixated on the apex of my thighs, before finally raising them to meet mine. “He’s right there,” he informed me, nodding towards the other side of the room, where there were a couple of lounge chairs by the wall.

Craning my neck to look behind, I found my boyfriend sat in one of them, chewing on his bottom lip nervously as he took in the image of me being slowly spread open by his best friend. I took notice of how his cock strained against his pants and how once Jake was fully in, Tom leaned his whole body towards us, like he wanted to be as close as possible to the action.

Jake climbed onto the bed, adjusting me so I’d be underneath his warm body and started moving. My head swirled with the overwhelming emotions and sensations coursing through my body. While the man on top of me - and inside of me - worshiped every inch of my skin with his tongue and beautiful lips, the man I loved - the man staring at us from a distance - seemed to be stuck between pain and pleasure, desperate to keep watching and pause the scene at the same time.

“Tell him,” Jake panted in my ear, calling out for my attention. I already knew he was a sucker for it, already knew he didn’t like me to focus on anything else than him and the way his cock made me feel as it dragged along my walls.

What I didn’t know, however, was what he wanted me to say. I was fucked out and sensitive, yet still taken to the edge of desire. I couldn’t think, only feel. The only thing I truly wanted at that second was to keep climbing higher and higher until I had met bliss once more, and I knew I’d never get there if Jake stopped moving because he was unsatisfied with my answer.

Thankfully, he seemed to be in a giving mood. His nose rubbed against my throat as he kept pounding me, his words pressed against my skin, “Tell him what you tell me when we’re alone.”

I froze. Not even he would be that cruel, would he? But… maybe Tom would like it? I really couldn’t think. And in the silence that followed, I knew Jake’s mean dominant demeanor would grow to fill it, even before his dark chuckle resonated across the room.

“Don’t be shy,” he mocked, gripping my cheeks and shaking me still somewhat gently (for what I was expecting of him). “Tell him how you beg for my cock like a fucking whore.” And still, I remained silent. Well, that wasn’t accurate at all, actually. Moans and whimpers flowed freely out of my lips, taking over the words Jake longed to hear so badly.

“Fine,” he relented. “Perhaps you need to be closer to your beloved.” I didn’t understand what he meant until his cock left me, making me whine like a wounded beast. His chuckle didn’t sound mocking this time, but the entire situation made it seem like that to me.

“C’mon,” he smacked my ass as I finally made my way out of bed, utterly confused about what he meant until he took me by the arm and dragged me all the way across the room, until I was standing just before my boyfriend. “Let me teach him how to really please you.”

A shiver went down my spine as I realized what was his plan all along. I gasped when I felt his hand pushing down on my lower back, making me fall over the arm of the chair where Tom was resting.

Before I could even adjust myself, Jake resumed his thrusts, even more punishing and quick than before. All the while, my boyfriend was just there, staring at me with wide eyes, almost as if he couldn’t believe what he was seeing - even though it was something he himself had told me that he wanted.

A hand covered the one with which I held the chair, and I looked up to meet Tom’s soft brown ones. He smiled - it was a small, tentative smile. A smile that seemed to say, ‘this is a bit too much, but I’m okay. Are you okay?’

How could I tell him that I was beyond that? Would that be crossing a line? All I knew was that Jake’s cock was filling my abused pussy perfectly, hitting that spot deep inside of me, making my eyes roll to the back of my head, and that was all I could focus on.

Until my hands were captured and pulled behind my back, forcing me to separate from Tom once more. Tom looked confused, but I knew what this was. I already knew Jake was possessive, he hadn’t even tried to hide it, but I think until that second, I had allowed myself to believe that at least in front of my actual boyfriend he’d relent.

I was wrong. Instead, Jake sat down on the bed once more, spearing me open with his cock, forcing my legs to stay spread for Tom’s view. It was so fucking deep, much deeper than I was used to. The pleasure and sensitivity from my previous orgasms became too much.

Tears started streaming down my face, and upon seeing that, Tom’s voice resonated in our bedroom. “Jake, stop.” He’d never seen me cry for anything other than sadness and pain, but this was something more.

This was bliss. And Jake knew it, so he let Tom’s pleas go unanswered, his big hands forcing my hips to keep riding him as he mocked. “Oh, tell him, sweetheart. Do you want me to stop?”

But I couldn’t speak. All that left me were loud whines - whines that apparently terrified Tom because he insisted, now looking at me, “please tell him to stop, please.” Jake’s fingers found my clit, making me shudder in his arms.

The moment felt too real, too heavy. I didn’t know what Tom was referring to anymore. Did he want Jake to stop fucking me because he thought I was hurting, or was he the one hurting from seeing me getting fucked by his best friend?

He didn’t say, so all I could do was answer the question Jake had made. I managed to spit out a “N-no,” shocking Tom, his wide eyes making his surprise clear. Behind me, Jake just laughed.

“That’s right, tell him how happy you are. Tell him how needy you are for my cock.” I was so fucking sensitive, but I was relishing in it. I was not used to having such long sex sessions. My nights with Tom were always satisfying, but they were short - and I think that was something he was thinking about too, as he watched me fuck myself on Jake.

“She becomes such a whore when I’m near,” Jake informed my boyfriend. “Well, I guess you’re seeing it now.” Just then, he covered my throat with one of his hands, squeezing a bit, not enough to fully choke me, but enough to make it hard to breathe and have my pussy clamping down on him.

Jake’s P.O.V.

“Oh, fuck,” she cursed, making me grin behind her shoulders. “Oh, Jake…” My eyes were focused on Tom’s, making sure he was taking in the entire scene, the way she was the one who was really controlling it, fucking herself on me while I just held her up. The slip of my name from her lips embarrassed her though, so she move her hands over her eyes, much to my displeasure.

“No, don’t cover your face,” I ordered, taking her wrists and pulling them behind her back. “Let him see you. Let him see how well you take me.” Her pussy clenched around me once more, undeniably showing just how aroused she was at her boyfriend watching her giving herself to another man.

It had me moaning, fingers burying deeper in her supple skin, my hunger for her insatiable. “Yeah, you made a mistake letting me into your girlfriend’s pussy, pal.” I didn’t even look at Tom anymore, eyes too transfixed at the way her ass shook each time her hips met mine. “Now that I know what she feels like, I’m never gonna stop fucking her.”

He knew I meant it. I didn’t have to look at him to feel the fear rolling off of him in waves, egging me on. And it was all the more powerful because now that he had seen what she looked like succumbing to my desire, he would forever be scared that she would give in to me.

He could see the effect I had on her just as well as I could feel it. The juices running down her thighs, the gasps of pleasure, the way her fingers scratched on my arm that held her by the throat.

It was very clear that she liked this. And knowing that only left me more insatiable. “I’m done desiring her from a distance, wishing I was buried in this delicious cunt,” I warned my friend, not knowing if he’d believe me or attribute this entire confession as part of the scene. Either way was good enough for me. “I have her now and I’m never letting her go.”

Raising my gaze to meet his, I made sure he was looking at me as I pronounced my final words. “I’m making your girlfriend my fucking bitch. My cum is all she’ll ever know.”

[logicalbookthief]

Things Left Unsaid -- An Analysis of Rei & Touya

Apparently Rei has been getting a lot of flack lately, all of it undeserved, and since I had a post analyzing her relationship with Touya in the works already, I figured no time like the present.

Disclaimer #1: There are a lot of issues with the writing for Rei’s character that have nothing to do with her and everything to do with how the storyline is using her, which I will address and examine.

Disclaimer #2: I’m someone who, while always curious as to what kind of relationship Rei had with her oldest son before he died, never thought it would be revealed that Touya was close to his mom. I don’t think you get the Dabi we see in Chapters 290-295 without him being so warped by his relationship with his father yet so dependent on his attention that he was willing to kill his brother and himself simply for his father’s acknowledgement.

But that’s what I find so interesting about Rei and Touya -- it’s a relationship that mainly consists of regrets and things left unsaid. There isn’t the anger or resentment Dabi feels for Endeavor, because that intense level of emotion sprung from the loss of the father who used to be his whole world. His feelings toward his mother seem more amicable, but also more distant.

And while she could’ve done some things differently in regards to her oldest, I want to make it clear that the distance between them was very much by design.

After all, Touya was the end goal of their marriage. It was never any secret as to why Enji wanted to marry her and to some extent Rei must’ve realized that this child was not meant to be hers: the child was the transaction, the thing she was needed to create, to give to her husband. Of course she loved Touya and was likely his primary caregiver for most of his life, but there was no doubt that once his quirk manifested and he could begin his hero training, his life would be dominated by his father. Which is what happened.

Here, I would like to point out something I noticed in the flashback chapters. We never see any panels of Enji alone with any of his children during their infancy -- even with Shouto, the perfect child he longed for, we see Rei holding Shouto, sitting by him as he sleeps. Enji is there tangentially. Once Shouto begins his training, that is when we see him with his father.

So to see Enji with Touya when he was a baby, prior to his quirk manifesting, strikes me as a big deal. But it makes sense if you remember that he’d placed all his hopes, dreams and expectations on his firstborn. Initially, it doesn’t look like he even considered the possibility that Touya wouldn’t be his successor or that his little eugenics experiment would fail; this was his first, most optimistic attempt at a masterpiece. So I don’t believe it’s far-fetched to see him spend more time with Touya right off the bat (it’s what will make the eventual abandonment all the more crushing).

However, Rei isn’t seen at all in the snippet of Touya’s infancy, despite us knowing she was relegated to the caregiver role. Rei is literally out of the picture. Compare this to how she features prominently in Shouto’s infancy or how we see her holding a baby Natsuo. You could argue that, hey, we don’t see her holding a baby Fuyumi either, but there’s other scenes where Fuyumi’s attached to her mother’s hip or crying over her being hurt. Things that suggest a closeness, when the only scene we get of just her and Touya is one where they’re at odds. 

As we move further into Touya’s childhood, though, Rei becomes the only voice we hear advocate for him against his father. I’m referencing two specific instances:

When Enji coerces her into having more children to replace Touya now that his father has deemed him a failure, something she knows will hurt their son deeply.

And after Touya lashes out at Shouto, which Rei doesn’t blame on Touya, but rather on his father. She delivers such a satisfying condemnation of his actions, probably the most cutting one Endvr’s received to date, and it so accurately sums up one of his major character flaws.

How can you call yourself a hero when you can’t even face your own son?

The tragedy of it all is that Rei never said any of this in front of Touya -- it was always said in private, just to her husband. That alone took courage, yes, but it would’ve meant everything to Touya to hear her condemn his father aloud. Instead when she does speak to him, she says this:

It’s why I can’t wrap my head around that scene in Ch 302, where after Enji admits he didn’t know what to say to Touya, Rei replies, “Neither did I.” 

When we’re shown in flashbacks during that same chapter that she did understand her son. “He just wants to be acknowledged by you” is quite the indication that she, at the very least, understood the cause of Touya’s turmoil even if she couldn’t fully relate to it herself. So why can’t she say any of this to him?

The answer is in the way she addresses Touya, as it is nearly identical to how Nao addresses Tenko in this scene:

Both Touya and Tenko grew up in similar households: the father had all the power, physical and financial, so the mothers were left to try and comfort their children in a way that didn’t go against their husbands’ desires -- and so, to use Tenko’s own words, they would “reject them with kindness.”

So it’s no wonder that Touya lashes out at his mother after she suggests he pursue other things. He isn’t five like Tenko was, he’s thirteen and has a much clearer understanding of why she says this and why it’s a bit hypocritical, since he’s aware of her situation, too.

Just as she was bound by her family, who wanted her to marry Endvr for the money and status, he’s bound by the expectations of his family. I’m not sure if I’ve seen anyone else touch on this detail, but when Touya states that he knows his grandparents sold his mom into marriage so his dad could have a child, we could infer that Touya knows enough to realize that his mother might not have necessarily wanted him.

Not him specifically, but any child — the story has neglected to flesh her out beyond her marriage and motherhood, so we have no idea if Rei wanted to become a mother prior to this arrangement, despite how much she loves her kids now — although it is possible that he might’ve internalized it this way.

So you have Touya, who at least knows with certainty that his father wanted him to exist, yet he comes to understand that his father only wants him if he can meet a specific set of expectations, and if he cannot, he’ll be discarded. If he can’t surpass All Might, he can’t fulfill his reason for existing and his father will have to replace him. So to have his mother urge him to follow a path other than becoming a hero would mean, to Touya, accepting that he is the mistake he fears he is. Of course he isn’t going to respond well to that.

I don’t like when people try to compare Touya’s reaction in this moment to Shouto’s when Rei tells him he isn’t bound by his father’s blood, using that to paint Shouto as the “good” child and Touya as the “bad” one. They didn’t react differently because of any innate sense of goodness or lack thereof -- they reacted differently because the situations are different.

Telling Shouto that he didn’t have to be like his father comforted Shouto, who only knew his father as the bully who hurt his mom. He associated his father, and his father’s fire, with all of that fear and pain -- and thus, he associated the part of himself that took after his father with those feelings. She wasn’t denying his dream of becoming a hero, only assuring him that when he became a hero it could be whatever kind of hero he chose to be, that he wasn’t doomed to be like his father.

Whereas what she tells Touya sounds a lot like what his father told him, which was to give up on being a hero and pursue other aspirations.

Encouraging Shouto to become his own version of a hero still falls in line with what Endvr ultimately wants, which is for Shouto to be a hero capable of surpassing All Might. Whereas this is what happens when Touya continues to train to do that against his father’s wishes:

This is where the framing begins to bother me and where Rei’s characterization becomes inconsistent. 

So in this scene from Ch 302, we see Enji abusing his wife for “letting” Touya continue to train, punishing her for her “failure” to stop him. Obviously, none of that is Rei’s fault. If anything, Enji would be more responsible for preventing Touya from hurting himself since he’s the reason his son is hurting himself in the first place.

Moreover, the fact that he hits Rei over this sort of muddies the water of an previously-established narrative. Since the Sports Festival arc, we’ve known that Endvr abused his wife because she tried to interfere with Shouto’s training. It got to the point where she was terrified of her husband and it drove her to a breakdown. Why introduce this new aspect to the abuse, when it was already established that a) he was physically abusive and b) his motivations for abusing her were explicit to the audience? 

I’m not saying it doesn’t make sense that a man who hits his wife for one reason could find another reason to do it and justify his actions to himself. And while the scene does portray Endvr in a bad light to show how wrong his actions are, literally draping his figure in shadow, why does it even dare to suggest the idea that Rei was remiss in her duties as a mother? Again, the scene isn’t even necessary, since the narrative has long-since showed the audience that Enji abused his wife. 

By itself, the scene would read as further exploration of how Rei was victimized and how it affected her children. When you look at it with the chapter as a whole, though? Remember, this is the chapter where Rei claims that all of the family shares the blame in what happened to Touya, displacing some of the blame that rightfully rests on Enji. 

But my major gripe with this scene is how it reframes the sole moment we get of Rei and Touya alone. Because we know that Rei understands Touya, based on her confrontations with her husband in Ch 301 & 302. Rather than encourage him to be what he wants or acknowledge that his father is in the wrong, however, her advice falls in line with what Enji wants -- to stop Touya from training. And this comes after a scene where we see Enji beat his wife when she doesn’t stop Touya from training.

With all that in mind, it could potentially be read as Rei trying stop Touya for the sake of protecting herself and the family -- I don’t think it’s coincidence that in the scene where he hits her that we see Shouto, Fuyumi & Natsuo all as witnesses who are very distressed by what’s happening to their mother -- at the cost of Touya’s need to be validated. And if executed well or at least better than it has here, that wouldn’t be a bad choice of narrative per se, and it would fit into the pattern where the households the villains were raised in -- notably Shigaraki, Dabi & Toga -- mimic the society they live in, just on a smaller scale.

Except. Does that sort of narrative make sense based on what we already know about Rei?

Certainly, it is natural to want to protect yourself under physical and/or emotional duress by appeasing your abuser. This sort of complicated dynamic appears in the Shimura family, too. Just like in the house that Kotaro built, the Todoroki family revolves around the desires of the abuser and is dictated by his whims.

I would argue that Nao does give us a well-written example of this narrative. From the beginning, it’s established that she loves Tenko dearly. But in the house her husband built, there’s no room to love her son as he deserves. She prioritizes the feelings of Tenko’s father for the sake of maintaining peace in the household and this is established quickly and plainly.

Early on in the flashback, Kotaro exerts his control over the house, while Nao + her parents look uncomfortable. Despite this, we watch as they comply with his rules, all at the expense of Tenko’s feelings. When she stands up to Kotaro at last, it is not where Tenko can see and already too late. It’s a painful story, full of regret and sadness, but it is consistent from start to end. Nobody feels out-of-character or there to prop up anybody else.

So why doesn’t Rei feel as consistent in this narrative?

Because it doesn’t fit with everything we knew about Rei prior to her abuser’s subpar redemption arc.

The way she interacts with Touya would make sense, if this was how she was portrayed from the start. However, her behavior in Shouto’s flashback -- where she was first introduced -- contrasts what we get in the later Todoroki flashbacks.

Let’s compare this to the scenes in Ch 302. Here, Rei interferes on Shouto’s behalf. She advocates for her son in front of Shouto where he can hear. She stands up to his bully/villain and tries to protect him, while also validating his feelings in the process. Directly after this, Enji hits her, not for failing to comply with his demands, but for defying him. 

It is difficult to reconcile this Rei with the Rei we get in Ch 302. And if you try to find an in-story reason for the inconsistency, the options either do a disservice to Rei or make things even more painful for Touya. But I’m sure most of you have realized that I’m going to suggest a reason for this inconsistency that goes beyond the canon.

Because when Rei was first introduced in the story, Endvr was unequivocally the villain in the Todoroki family, not some misguided patriarch trying to atone for his “past” mistakes. Years later and in the midst of his redemption arc, the narrative seems to be intent on making this man more palatable to readers, and it’s used Rei at every opportunity to prop up his efforts to be better. Often, though, it takes some of the heat off Enji by displacing it onto other family members, most significantly Rei & Touya.

Like, you can literally see the difference in the frame from early in the manga to now:

Ch 39: Endvr trains his five-year-old to the point where he’s throwing up due overextension and being punched by a fully grown adult who is also his father. Rei tries to protect her son and gets slapped by Endvr. All the blames rests squarely on Endvr, who is clearly the aggressor and painted as the villain here.

Ch 302: Endvr hits Rei for not preventing Touya from sneaking out to train, knocking her to the ground. Again, Endvr is clearly the aggressor, but oh this time it’s not driven solely by his selfish desires it’s also cocnern for his son; Rei is the victim but oh she also should have been watching him more closely, and oh well why was Touya going out in the first place, when everyone has told him to stop and he knows his mom will get punished for it?

Honestly, I can understand where some people have mixed feelings over Rei’s character, particularly since the writing has done her such a disservice recently. With that being said, however, it takes a minimum amount of critical thinking to recognize that while you can criticize some choices she made, you cannot hold her to the same standard of accountability as Enji, it’s absurd. The power imbalance was obviously tipped in Endvr’s favor, always.

It is a shame, too, that we can’t have more discussions that don’t turn into some readers (a lot of whom are attempting to make Endvr sound less horrible than he actually was) trying to demonize her. It’s doubly a shame the story itself doesn’t bother to flesh her out as a person, instead using her as a prop, because the complex relationships she has with Touya -- with all her children, really -- has plenty of room for exploration. 

Like, there was no reason to add this new dimension of resentment due to her spouting Enji’s words back at Touya, when there was already a source of tension supported by previous canon -- the neglect the Todoroki kids suffered because Rei couldn’t be the parent they needed, due to her declining mental health and eventual breakdown.

Or, if you want to complicate their dynamic further, why not add something that focuses on Rei and has nothing to do with Enji? We learn in the flashbacks that Rei agreed to the marriage more-or-less to please her family, lamenting that she “intended to smile through it to the end,” essentially admitting that her hope was she could grin and bear it. It is telling that she had this attitude before entering her marriage; evidently, she was raised with the idea that she should be acquiescent to her parents’ whims and not express herself if she was only going to be contrary. Maybe she didn’t know how to deal with Touya’s very expressive, very emotional outbursts as a result. And her inability to respond would be the exact opposite of what Touya was seeking.

Not to mention that Touya died, and for the last decade, Rei was under the impression she had lost her son forever. He died while she was hospitalized, torn up with guilt over what she did to Shouto, only to find out that her other son died in a frankly horrific manner, and she could do nothing. By the time she would’ve found out, it was too late to even try to do anything. I can’t imagine what she must’ve felt in terms of regret alone, plus her grief. And I’m still mad we were robbed of her reaction to Touya being alive, because now suddenly there is a chance to do something, to change what was once written in stone.

Or what about Touya’s feelings for his mother, that have yet to be given much depth? As the oldest and most aware of his existence, it seems like he was the first to truly understand his mother’s situation and I can’t help but wonder: If Touya knew he vessel for his father’s ambition, and his mother was sold into role of creating/caring for him, did he question her love for him? Once he found out one parent’s love was conditional, it wouldn’t be a leap for him to consider it for the other. And yet if that’s true, Dabi doesn’t appear to hold any ill-will towards her for that. He was angry at her hypocrisy, because he knows she should understand, but her words to him didn’t reflect that.

All of that is fascinating and so much better than what we got in canon, so far at least. I’m hoping for them interact in the present at least once before the end of the series, and I think they will, but as to how satisfying a reconciliation it’ll be, I guess we’ll have to wait to see how the Todoroki plotline progresses from here on out.

[paper-cuts-and-fresh-bruises]

Okay, so this has been gnawing at my brain all day about 3x04 and I’ve finally gotten some free time to type it up here so let’s go. But before I start I will preface that everything I say going forward is theories/ramblings and nothing concrete, so I am not responsible for how accurate or inaccurate this ends up being, so read at your own risk. 

So obviously from the trailer for the next episode of Nancy Drew is that episode, the one that as Nace fans we’re gonna go gaga one way or another, but obviously with that trailer, as well as bits from the season 3 teaser trailer we now know are most certainly going to go in that episode, I wanted to address something. It’s been going round about the less than favourable idea of cheating being involved with Nace, and I am certainly not one to like it either. What I will say is however that we don’t even know the full situation yet and that’s where my theorising comes in. With the whole sandman/nightmare on elm street type situation we’ve got here, clearly not only are they going to be lulled into falling asleep but then that trick soon shows what seemed like dreams become very terrifying and very dangerous nightmares.

 Also, seen as the nightmares are paired with the afflicted being prone to sleepwalking, people are obviously going to end up being puppeted to do things unintentionally. Now I don’t know if the Nancy and Ace stuff is going to be in Nancy’s dreams, or Ace’s dreams, or if it’s even completely or partly a dream at all, but what I do know is that the writers and producers have not missed a beat since day one, if they were going to play the cheating card, certainly the deliberate cheating card, they would’ve done it already. The writers and producers of Nancy Drew already stated at the end of season 2 that they value Nace seriously and that the characters aren’t just going to disrespect one another like that. At the core of it if anything happens in the dream/nightmare like it seems it will, we need to remember that that’s not real world so to speak (meaning whatever the characters do isn’t a result of them doing it on their own), it’s the dream feeding into the fear of the characters; if we presume for a moment that it’s Nancy’s dream, she probably fears what her feelings could make her do and what she’s willing to allow to happen to be with Ace, and on Ace’s end if that’s his dream or he envisions something similar, his fear on that front (because the nightmares might explore multiple fears) is that his feelings for Nancy could be so powerful that his worst envisioning is the possibility of having the capability to cheat on someone instead of being honest and breaking it off before being with someone else.

Also, technically the whole cheating scenario hinges upon Ace and Amanda still being a thing, which from the vibes I’ve been getting from the start of the season, kinda seems like they split but Ace has tried to keep things on the down low and stay in touch and attempt to be on good terms, though that seems to have been failing. Whether the episode will divulge anything about that I don’t know. It certainly seems like if they have split, Ace isn’t quite ready or sure how to let people know yet, especially with the complicated Nancy feelings. Anyways, I think that anything that happens between Nancy and Ace in the episode, real or not, Nancy in particular will likely try to avoid feeding into, because if we can presume she might still not know when she asks ace what his dream was about as to his relationship status with Amanda, just on principle she’ll do the respectful thing and keep her distance until she’s sure she’s not crossing a line, just as Ace wouldn’t break that boundary until things are right. At the most their emotions are what’s going to be on the table playing this game.

Also, although part of me thinks this will end up with Nancy making herself gravitate towards Park more, ultimately Nace is where it’s at I have no doubt with what the writers have in store. By all means Nancy and Ace may only reach the point where they’re on the same page finally by the finale of this season, but the trajectory tells me we Nace fans have nothing to worry about; also part of me has been curious as to whether anything might actually happen between Nancy and Park, or whether they more so just flirt for the most part and work together,  ultimately although Nancy has a decision on her hands of Ace or Park, I think and hope that she’ll take the risk with Ace who her feelings have been most grounded in. Other than that I wanted to mention with Nancy Drew gaining viewers and season 4 already being called a “safe bet”, we’re in good hands. We’ve just got to politely pester the CW to make sure season 4 goes back to 18 episodes, because as much as 13 episodes isn’t actually that bad, I just want that back. 

[azucanela]

SOME THINGS NEVER CHANGE

PAIRING: SUGAWARA KOUSHI X FEM!READER

REQUEST: if you’re feeling into it a suga fic where they like dated during high school and later get back together after college would be awesome!! maybe fem y/n was manager for karasuno or something and they just broke up bc of distance! and if you don’t want to do this that’s perfectly okay! take care of yourself, you’re an amazing writer!!

WARNINGS: ANGST TO FLUFF. KISSING. MILD TIMESKIP SPOILERS.

WORD COUNT: 1.9k

A/N: i love suga, SUGA SUPREMACY, thank you for the request it was fun to write!

HAIKYUU!! MASTERLIST

HE LOVED HER AND THERE WAS NO DENYING IT, but it wouldn’t be the first time that two people very in love had been forced apart for whatever the circumstances. 

You could see it in the way he forced her onto the inside of the sidewalk— a small thing done in an attempt to keep her safe from possible incoming cars. You could see it in the way Sugawara’s eyes fell on her absently, so encapsulated with her words and the passion in her voice. You could see it in the way he seemed to light up when he saw her in the stands of his volleyball games, even though he likely wouldn’t be playing. 

And oh did Y/N L/N love him as well. Her sad smiles at the mention of his name were evidence enough, and if not, it was the way she frequently asked Daichi and Asahi of his health full well knowing the boy had a tendency to forego taking care of himself when he was so caught up in the well being of others.

Kageyama had observed it early on— or more accurately, Hinata had observed it early on, pointing out to the young setter that his senior was obviously enamored with their second manager. Hinata’s emotional intelligence had always been far ahead of Kageyama’s, although Kageyama had noticed the difference in... treatment between the pair, he had never truly realized they were dating.

But it soon became abundantly clear that they were in fact, together. And Y/N L/N wasn’t just the other manager of the Karasuno Boy’s Volleyball Team, but the girlfriend of Sugawara Koushi.

Which is the main reason why Kageyama had suspected she hated him early on, after all he’d taken her boyfriend’s spot on the starting line up, and he had bluntly pointed this fact out to her by the vending machine one day. Though Y/N had simply laughed it off, bringing a hand to Kageyama’s shoulder and offering him a smile.

Just like Sugawara had. Maybe that’s what made them the perfect pair, Kageyama wasn’t sure. But anyone with a set of eyes could tell they were a disgustingly perfect couple. 

Which is why Kageyama had never imagined they would break up. Nor had anyone in the club really. Even Asahi and Daichi were left in shock as the pair went their separate ways. 

It was supposed to make things easier, leaving. They would both be abandoning everything they ever knew and heading off to college after all, and seeing as they’d both ended up at different colleges... well, how plausible was a long distance relationship? 

It was a mutual break up. That they mutually did not want. 

Not much changed if Y/N is honest, and maybe that’s why she didn’t find herself sobbing in her bed until she actually got to college. It was just a label, but at one point... the change became alarmingly clear to her— the fact that she and Sugawara Koushi were no longer together.

Sugawara felt it in the little things, when he went to message her good morning and remember that... they weren’t together anymore. Did Y/N even want a good morning text? Maybe she was receiving one from someone else now. 

Talking wasn’t awkward, with the silent agreement that if they ever needed someone to talk to, they would always be there. But the change was painful enough to drive them apart in a way that wasn’t just physical. 

It’s not until she’s seeing him again that Y/N is reminded of that very pain once more, though the smile on her face is still very genuine and authentic as she throws her arms around the three boys from her third year. 

Sugawara holds on for a little too long. 

“It’s so good to see you guys! Are we all excited for our boys’ final tournament of their third year?” She exclaimed as she wrapped an arm around Kiyoko.

Daichi ruffles Y/N’s hair as he grins, “of course I’m excited to see them win again.” Comes his reply.

And of course, Asahi finds himself beaming with an albeit nervous smile as he agrees, “definitely! I believe in them.”

“I dunno guys, maybe Hinata will forget to spike again,” Sugawara chimes in, jokingly of course, while Kiyoko nods along with the rest of her friends as she offers them a small smile. Her eyes drifting to the arm that Sugawara throws over Y/N’s shoulder. “It’ll be just like old times!”

Just like old times indeed.

Daichi finds himself giving Asahi a look, that is returned with a look of confusion until he gently shoves him forward, a look of realization washing over his face as he begins to walk faster and Kiyoko says, “why don’t we head on over to our seats guys?” She turns to Y/N and Sugawara, “would you mind getting us some snacks from the vendors?”

The pair exchanges looks momentarily before Y/N offers Kiyoko a smile as she nods, “yeah, of course. Any preferences?”

“The usual!” Daichi replies, waving them off as he drags Asahi away, winking at Sugawara before disappearing around the corner alongside Kiyoko as well. 

Sugawara simply raises a brow, opening his mouth to say something until Y/N’s hand comes to grasp his own— loosely holding the one wrung around her shoulder as she begins to speak of which vendor they should visit.

But the only thing he can focus on is the ring she wears. For a moment, he panics, thinking that someone else has already snatched her away, that he lost the woman he loves.

Until he looks a little closer and recognizes the very promise ring he’d given her in their third year, almost identical to the one he was currently wearing around his neck, attached to a chain he’d purchased shortly into his first year of college. After all, he couldn’t bring himself to take it off either. 

Y/N seems to take note of this, pausing before noticing where his gaze has fallen, her cheeks warming at the realization. “I’ve been meaning to return the ring to you, sorry about that.” She releases his hand with a tight lipped smile, moving to remove the ring, only for Sugawara’s hand to come over hers as he shakes his head.

“Keep it. What would I do with it anyways?” And who else would he give it to?

Y/N pauses, eyes drifting between the ring and Sugawara for a moment before replying, “okay.”  

It’s not that they hadn’t talked at all in the past few years, just that things had changed and now neither of them new where the boundaries were. What could they do? What couldn’t they? Where was the invisible line between friend and former lover? It was a line they danced around in each interaction and today was no different.

Y/N finds herself desperately needing some space as she inhales deeply, perhaps it’s because she’s shocked by how easily he’d wormed his way back into her heart in the five seconds they’d been together now. Or maybe it’s the reminder that nothing had changed, she was still going to college across the country.

It’s not until they’re seated beside each other once more, two years later, that Y/N realizes nothing had changed. 

It’s a party they’d thrown for the New Year, and practically a get together for their teammates, new and old. They pair had managed to get onto professional teams— to no ones surprise. Although the fact that they’d be opposing each other was a surprise. 

Somehow, Y/N and Sugawara had found themselves on the balcony of the home, fresh out of college— which had really been the only thing keeping them apart up until now.

So, something had changed.

“You’re officially a teacher!” Y/N exclaimed, beaming at Sugawara with a smile that he quickly returns, drink in hand. 

He’s leaning against the balcony. eyes drifting towards the lively city as he replies, “kind of. I was lucky to even get hired so soon after graduating.” He takes a sip of his drink, “I just hope next year is better.”

A small laugh escapes Y/N as she downs what is left of her own drink, “me too, Suga.” Their eyes meet, and she can see the way he stiffens at the name, it had been a while since she’d called him by anything other than his first name. Though Y/N disregards this fact as she asks, “so what school are you working at?”

Y/N can see the passion in his eyes as he begins to speak of the school he’ll be working at, nodding along until she realizes, she recognizes the name, mouth gaping open as she asks, “are you serious? I recently got a job at one of the corporations in that area!” She exclaimed. Sugawara is opening his mouth to say something when they suddenly hear the people inside cry out—

10.

“Oh! I didn’t realize it was that time.” Y/N mumbled, looking inside to see their friends— new and old— congregating together around the TV. She wonders how time could’ve passed so quickly, it feels as though she had only ventured out to the balcony a few minutes prior because last Y/N had checked, it was barely 10PM.

9.

Sugawara allows a laugh to escape him as he nods, “time flies by when you’re having fun right?” And Y/N finds herself in shock momentarily, wondering if maybe he’d read her mind.

8.

Y/N turns to him, offering him a small smile as she nods in agreement, “it does. Doesn’t it?” And Sugawara is left feeling breathless, even after all these years, her smile still seems to have that effect on him. 

7.

“I did, have fun. By the way.” Sugawara says, eyes darting between the door of the balcony and Y/N. His words are true, he did have fun, of course Sugawara would never consider lying to Y/N. And even if he did try, Sugawara had a feeling she’d be able to tell. 

6. 

“We should head back inside.” She continues, eyes drifting back towards where their friends are calling out the countdown. Huddled together, Y/N finds herself smiling at the sight of Tanaka’s arm around Kiyoko’s shoulder.

5.

Y/N meets Kiyoko’s eyes momentarily, and the look Kiyoko gives her is one of urgency, one that tells her, “don’t you dare come back here right now.” But Y/N finds herself rolling her eyes as she begins to head back inside. 

4.

Their relationship had been over for years, and yet Kiyoko was still trying to convince her that the boy’s feelings never changed. Though Y/N wouldn’t deny that she would always love Sugawara— and she had no doubt that he still loved her— those feelings were probably purely platonic now. Right?

3.

Right. Y/N shakes off the feeling as she continues inside, until she feels a hand wrap around her wrist, keeping her from carrying on inside and yanking her backwards. Y/N finds herself colliding with Sugawara’s chest with a gasp.

2.

Sugawara’s eyes meet hers, a clear question within them as he wordlessly places his drink on the rim of the balcony. The hand on her wrist still firmly placed there as Y/N nods slowly.

1. 

And suddenly his lips finds hers, Y/N’s arm winding around his neck with her drink still in hand while Sugawara’s hand comes to her waist in an attempt to pull her closer. Almost desperate to be closer to each other as the crowd inside begins screaming and cheering. Y/N frees her other hand from his grasp and brings it to his shirt to tug him even closer while his other hands comes to her cheek.

When they pull away, Sugawara is grinning as he says, “happy new year, babe.”

[bebepac]

Ri-Liamo de Bergerac (Happy birthday Zoehanji )

Happy birthday @zoehanji​ !!!!!

Original Post date: 04/27/21 at 9:52PM EST  (4/28 where you are celebrating your birthday!!!) 

I have no idea when we started talking but we did, somewhere in the beginning of my writing journey on this site.  Even though I still consider myself to be a beginner here. Thank you for being my friend and being a fellow long distance cousin, as our relative in common would be Drama Whore!  Ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha   🤣🤣🤣🤣🤣🤣🤣

I hope you enjoy this.  I know that Fast Forward has always been one of your favorites.  

The Book:  TRH and Beyond

Pairing: Liam x Riley  /  Maxwell x Taylor  (Maxwell x F!OC)

Warnings:  Sexual Innuendo  and fluff. 

Word Count:  1889

Summary:  Maxwell and Taylor go on their first date.  Both are nervous and ask Liam and Riley for an assist.  

A/N:  This is a little similar version of Cyrano de Bergerac, not in the take that someone has a big nose, no one does, but the aspect of someone getting help in a conversation by using someone else’s words.  I did ask around to see if anyone had done something similar to this.  No one recalled of a similar story, so any similarities to anything currently on the fandom is completely unintentional.  

I also used @theworldofprompts  prompt: "All my life I've been searching for an answer as to where I belong. Then I met you and everything changed. You treated me like I deserved to be treated and you made me feel like I had a home. I don't want to lose that. I don't want to lose you." which will appear in bold.  

Song inspiration for this.  I heard this song while i was desperately needing to calm down while i was listening to the calm station on my pandora and I came across this song and enjoyed it so, so here it is for you all to enjoy too. I feel like it has a little sweet nervous energy, but then the music builds like you’re getting used to being with someone. it’s truly a beautiful piece.  

First Love by Yiruma 

I don’t own rights to the music. But i’m quickly becoming a Yiruma fan.  Every song was amazing that i heard today and it had such a unique feel.  I could pick them when they started playing on pandora.  

Riley raised her eyebrow at Maxwell. She saw him pacing nervously as he kept glancing in Taylor's direction. Taylor was completely oblivious as she had her nose buried in a book she'd gotten from the estate library.

Finally Maxwell had psyched himself up. He walked over to Taylor sitting in the lawn chair next to her.

"Hey Softie."

Taylor put down her book, as did Ellie as she was sharing the oversized lounge chair in the sun with Taylor. Both lifted their sunglasses to their hair.  

"Lord Playlist?"

"So I was wondering if you want to have dinner tonight."

"Silly Uncle Maxwell, we eat dinner every night."  Ellie confirmed matter of factly.

"What Riley Jr. said."  Both Taylor and Ellie picked up their books again, sliding their glasses back to cover their eyes.

Riley laughed to herself.  Oh my God Taylor she thought. She is absolutely adorably clueless. 

Liam laughed softly.  He gently rubbed Riley's stomach.

"Aren't you glad we're married? We don't  have to do that."

"You were never like that."

Liam blushed.  "I felt like that when I talked to you the first time. I don't even remember what I said on the street to you. I was so dumbfounded by your beauty."

"You don't remember me being so awkward, Liam?"  

Liam shook his head. "You… were perfect, is all I remember, My Love."

A light blush hit Max's cheeks.  

"What I meant Softie, was you and me alone, away from the estate."

Taylor slowly lowered the book again, her eyes slowly meeting Maxwell’s.

"So like a date?"

"I mean date is a strong word, but it could be an accurate one. Two people dressed nicely eating food together at the same table. I mean I'm not opposed to the idea if you are."

"Auntie Taylor likes food, and to dress nicely. You should see Auntie Taylor's dress for the ball. I picked it!!!!!"

"Excuse me Miss Crown Princess read your book."

"So… whaddya say Softie? Dinner tonight?"

"Sure. Riley Jr. nailed it pretty much."  

"Great! I'll meet you out front at seven."

Great."

"I swear this baby likes to just sit in there and poke my bladder for fun." Riley tried to roll out of the lounge chair she was on. “A little help Liam?”

Liam immediately jumped up to assist Riley to her feet.  

"You just went thirty minutes ago."

"You tell your daughter that."

Liam affectionately rubbed her stomach, kneeling to plant a soft kiss on it.

"Little One be nice to Mommy. She has kept you safe all this time and we still have a few weeks to go. Let Mommy relax.."

Riley had stepped out of the lavatory only a few steps when Taylor descended on her like a ninja.

"Jesus Christ! Taylor you almost scared the crap out of me, and the way this baby has my bodily functions out of whack it could have legit happened!!!"

“Ew. Riley. Gross.  Another reason I won’t procreate.  Did you see, Maxwell asked me out!!!! On a date!!!!"

Riley laughed.  "Because he likes you, and you like him."

"What are we going to talk about alone?!?!"

"You guys talk, and you are texting back and forth all the time."

"We talk in a group Riley. All Me and Maxwell do via text is meme war each other."

“Huh?”

"Our whole texting conversation… nothing but memes!!!"

She swiped on Maxwell's conversation in her phone it was nothing but pictures.

"It's okay, I'll get an ear piece set  from Nico, and help you.”

“You’d do that for me?”  

“Of course I would.  Can’t have your first date with the guy you like nothing but uncomfortable dead air.”  

“Thanks Ri.  Can you keep this between us?”

“Sure! Do you need help picking an outfit for tonight?"

"Nope, with the outfit, you kind of already did when you gave me my new wardrobe. If I can’t pick from there, I’m truly an idiot."

Little did Riley and Taylor know Maxwell and Liam were having a similar conversation.

“Liam I didn’t think she would really say yes!!!  She said yes!!!! She said yes…..” 

Then it looked like the gravity of the situation crashed into him.  Maxwell looked like he was about to hyperventilate.  

“Calm down Maxwell.  Taylor likes you.  It’s easy to tell from the trained eye.  She lets down her guard around you.”  

“What are we going to talk about?  I can’t talk about peacocks all night.  Or Memes. She’ll think I'm a complete buffoon.   I don’t even have reservations anywhere.  I asked her on a nice date and I don’t even have reservations ANYWHERE!!!! What am i going to do?!?!?!

Liam grabbed Maxwell by the shoulders.  “Get a hold of yourself man!!!!  And take a breath, your face is turning blue.”  

Maxwell took a few cleansing breaths.  

“Don’t worry about the reservations, I can handle that.  It’s good you are friends with the King and Queen.  And for conversation I can got it.  I’ll get an earpiece from Bastien, and you’ll be fine.”

“Don’t tell Riley.  She still hasn’t let go about the fact of my baby hippo tattoo.”

“Nor will I thank you for reminding me of it.”  Liam laughed loudly.  

Maxwell and Taylor left on their date.   Both Liam and Riley made excuses to not be in the other’s company for the evening. ��

Both Liam and Riley were pleasantly surprised being a whisper in someone’s ear how well the night was going.  Both couldn’t stop thinking about how natural the moments between the two of them felt, and how perfect they were for each other.  

“I can’t tell you enough Taylor how beautiful you look to me tonight.  And I know you’ve had trouble seeing yourself that way when it comes to that word. But you are Taylor.”  

She heard her sister softly gasp.   Tears filled Riley’s eyes.    

Tell him Thank you, and that you wanted to look nice…. For him.”

Taylor parroted her words.

Taylor starred at the menu. None of it was in English and she had no idea what any of it meant.

I wish I had your eyes right now Riley. Taylor thought.  

The conversation was sweet and romantic. It was the perfect date.   Maxwell reached across the table taking Taylor’s hand.  

“Would you like to dance?”

“Yes.”    

As they danced,  Taylor started relaxing in Maxwell’s arms.  

“You know I have a hard time sharing my emotions sometimes. All the time..”  

“I know. And that’s okay.  We can take this slow.  There’s no rush Softie.”  

This felt familiar to Liam..  Too familiar.  He knew those words…..her words.

Riley felt the same way but she couldn’t be sure.  

Both had gotten up from their desks to investigate to see what the other was up to.  

Taylor had never felt like a moment was so perfect and what Riley said, she really felt in her heart.

"All my life I've been searching for an answer as to where I belong. Then I met you and everything changed. You treated me like I deserved to be treated and you made me feel like I had a home. I don't want to lose that. I don't want to lose you."

“Riley?”  But she had the feeling, it wasn’t Maxwell’s question.

Taylor pulled away from Maxwell.

“Liam?”  

Liam and Riley stared at each other in the hallway.  

He touched her ear feeling her ear piece and she touched his, feeling the same. 

“I knew it was you.” They both said in unison.

“I could feel your heart Riley, through the words even though it wasn’t you saying them.”  

“I could feel you too.”  

From the earpieces they could hear Liam and Riley kissing and the sounds of commotion.

“Bedroom, now?”  Liam's voice deep, rumbling with desire and need.

“YES LIAM!" Riley cried out.

"OH GOD!" Taylor shrieked.

Both Maxwell and Taylor ripped out their earpieces.  

“Well that escalated quickly.”  Max cleared his throat looking at their earpieces that were laying on the table.  “Won’t be using those for the rest of the evening.” 

“Why did you think you needed help on the date Maxwell?”

“Because I’m awkward, when I’m around you.”  

“No you’re not.  You’re funny, and really nice.  I’m the awkward one. I don’t know how to do this normally.  I’ve never had a healthy romantic relationship before.”  

“That’s okay.  I haven’t been in many relationships before either.  We can learn together.”  

“So can I be honest with you?  I have no clue what the hell I ordered.  This place is nice but it’s too much for me.  I’m guessing it was Liam’s idea?  Can we go somewhere else?”

“I know just the place.”  

Maxwell and Taylor left that restaurant, and when they got to the second place, Taylor’s smile widened.  

“Now stop me Softie if you’ve ever heard this one,  a dashing noble wearing a squid tie with an affinity for peacocks, and a Queen of Cordonia lookalike walk into a bar…….”

Date one for Maxwell and Taylor part two was them dressed up like they were going to the ball, eating burgers and drinking cheap Cordonian Beer, playing pool.  And it was perfect.. For them.

No. Dead. Air.  Conversation flowed easily between the pair.

“Wow.  I can’t believe the earpiece stayed in.”  

“You don’t think they heard anything did they?”  

“I’m sure they probably took them out.”  

"Can I ask you something?"

He could hear the slight sadness in Riley's voice. "Sure, you can ask me anything."

"Do you think I'm cool?"

Liam laughed out loud but abruptly stopped when he saw the look on Riley's face.

"Of course you are Riley."

"Then why is Ellie my sister's shadow right now?  Why do I feel like she wants nothing to do with me?"

"Riley… it's not that. This pregnancy has been rough on you.  You know how active our children are, and how active you were with them. Even while you were pregnant.  Well….Taylor fills that spot  for what you aren't physically able to do right now. Before it was me. I think you notice it more now because it is her.. But yes, it is clear Ellie adores Taylor. They have bonded and really love each other. “

"It was just so hard when I came back from California  Liam. She hated me."

"She didn't. She loved you, and it was my doing that put a wedge between you and her. She was hurting Riley. I did that to her. Not you. I’m sorry for that."

“It’s okay Liam.”  

*^*^*^*^*^*  Breakfast next day *^*^*^*^*^*^*

“How was dinner last night Taylor?”  Riley asked.

“It was great.  We went for Burgers and beers.”  

“That’s nice.”  

Liam lightly cleared his throat.

“So……..”

“We didn’t hear anything.  We both ripped our ear pieces out when we heard where things were heading.”  

“Riley you’re about to pop, how is that even aerodynamically possible right now?!?!?!”  

“Oh it’s possible!”  Liam chuckled.  “God yes it’s possible.”

“Taylor it’s like when the amusement park is about to close and you want to get on your favorite ride one last time.  Even if you’ve had too much food and you’re full and you might throw up.  You got to get on that ride one more time.”

“You went to a carnival Mommy?”  

“No, she just went on a royal scepter ride. God did I say that out loud?”  Taylor slapped her hand over her mouth.

“Oh my God!!! Can we change the subject now please?”  Liam inquired, beads of sweat were forming on his face.    

“Yes please because this conversation went incredibly awkward!”

Riley laughed looking around the table.  The adults looked like they wanted to climb out of their skins and her children looked either confused or unaware of what was happening.

Tags in the Comments!!!

[pigeonp0st]

hey there friend (long time no see), could i request a natashaxreader where reader has suffered w psychosis their whole life and has managed to hide it until something triggering happens and it comes back in full force. nat doesn’t understand at first but when she does it’s too late and reader has gone haywire you til nat calms her down? you can adjust and do whatever you want w it, thanks!

Natasha Romanoff x Reader

#3

Words:1,617

Warnings:

Hallucinations/Psychosis, Talk about mental health, insecurities

Notes:

Thank you for requesting! Sorry it took me so long to get to this. I’m finally starting to slowly tackle my inbox...I hope this is what you were looking for though, I had to a bit of research for this one...i’m just hoping it’s accurate representation. (Sorry for spelling mistakes, as always.)

———

It happens because of your trip to help Peter defeat Mysterio.

You’re too wiped out on the trip back home, but the morning you wake up in your bed after the long flight...that’s when the voices start. Natasha’s in bed next to you (since you’re technically in her room) reading a book, so you try to push it away.

You try to focus on other things. Like your breathing, or the smell of coffee in the air. You even try shouting over the voice in your head, but it doesn’t work. The voice just gets louder and more insistent until you finally have to shoot out of bed and scramble for your phone and headphones.

‘He’s after you. Mysterio is after you.

He didn’t die. He’s here. He’s trying to hurt Natasha, he’s trying to hurt you,’ the voice keeps saying. ‘He’s coming. He’s coming. You weren’t strong enough.’

“He’s dead,” you tell yourself outloud, repeating it over and over again while putting on your headphones to start blasting loud music in your ears.

A hand reaches for you out of the corner of your eye, causing you to jump back and fall off the bed. On the way down you hit your head on the corner of the nightstand.

“Hey,” Natasha says, looking confused and concerned, “what’s wrong?”

“He’s coming Nat...we have to warn the Avengers,” You insist, pacing across the floor. Images of Mysterio float through your head and you keep glancing behind you and around the room.

“Who?” Natasha asks, standing up to make her way over to you and pausing when you flinch back. “Whose coming?”

A voice speaks to you. Shouts at you. And suddenly you’re trying to get as much distance between you and Nat as you can.

“This isn’t real. You aren’t real. He’s here already isn’t he? Are you him?”

Natasha looks completely ruffled until it hits her. “Are you talking about Mysterio?”

You shake your head, but not at her—at yourself. “Where did we have our first kiss?” You ask Natasha, nodding your head when she stutters out the right response.

Natasha opens her mouth to ask another question but she doesn’t get it out before you’re pushing her back and into the closet, speaking too fast for her to even begin to understand what’s happening. All she can make out is “he’s here.” All she can do is watch you sink to the ground and wrap your arms around yourself, clasping your hands over your ears.

All she can do is watch with the utmost of concern when tears start running down your face. “I wasn’t strong enough last time,” you mumble out with unfocused eyes. “I’m sorry Natasha. I’m so sorry.”

“Okay,” Natasha breathes out, kneeling down in front of you. She doesn’t know what’s happening but she hates how it’s hurting you. “What are you sorry for?” She asks quietly, trying not to upset you further.

Her heart breaks when your teary eyes meet hers and your hands slowly drop from your ears. You look eager suddenly, eager and scared. Eager to talk to distract yourself from the noises, and scared because everything right now is terrifying.

“I’m not going to be able to save you. You’re going to die because of me,” You sob out.

Natasha shakes her head and pulls you into a hug, arms loose around you until she feels you pull her in closer. She doesn’t try to deny the prospect that someone else is trying to kill her right now, because she doesn’t think you’ll listen to her anyways, so she goes for the next best thing. “You don’t need to. You’re not the only one who can kick ass.”

It doesn’t seem to register in your mind for a long moment until you relax somewhat in Natasha’s arms. “You’re strong,” you say, trying to reassure yourself of Natasha’s strength because it’s the one thing you can believe in right now.

“Yeah,” Natasha agrees gently, “and so are you. Together he won’t stand a chance.”

You nod, burying your face in her neck and trying to focus on just the sound of her breathing and voice. Natasha must understand because she starts asking you questions, normal questions about day to day things, like “what do you think we’re having for dinner?” and taps you whenever you space out and don’t respond.

It takes awhile for the voices to go away and for you to feel present again, but when you do you’re too embarrassed to say anything. Thankfully Natasha switched tactics and started humming a song a while ago so you’re able to take a moment to listen to her and gather your thoughts before you have to speak.

“How did you handle that?” Is the question that leaves your mouth even though that wasn’t what you intended to ask.

Natasha gives you a squeeze and finally pulls away from the hug, looking at you with so much concern you feel like crying all over again. “I like distractions whenever I have panic attacks,” she explains quietly, “and even though I didn’t know what was going on—I still don’t—I could see you were trying to distract yourself.”

She could see it when you leaped for the headphones, and in the steady tap of your finger against your leg, or when she was holding you and you kept squeezing and letting go, drawing in deep breaths and letting them out.

She did what she thought would help.

“I’m sorry, Nat. I’ve tried to hide it but…” you sigh. “Mysterio really fucked with my head. He has me questioning everything more than I usually do.”

“This happens often?” Natasha asks with furrowed eyes.

You don’t want to tell her, but at this point you feel like you have to. Natasha will understand, you tell yourself, Natasha has suffered from her own mental health issues. It comes with the job.

“I’ve struggled with psychosis since I was a teenager,” you mumble quietly. “It comes and goes.”

Natasha looks completely struck at that. Her entire body practically goes rigid. She wonders how she wasn’t able to detect her own girlfriend's suffering, and wonders if she’s done something to make it seem like she’d be anything other than supportive and understanding. “Around me?” Natasha stutters out, wanting to know.

Your eyes fall to the ground, ashamed. “I’m able to hide it usually,” you mumble, “i’m able to ignore the voices that tell me to do awful things, the voices that convince me of things that aren’t true. The sounds. The occasional vision.”

“Have they happened around me?” Natasha repeats softly, tilting your chin up with her fingers.

“Yeah, Natasha, they’ve happened around you.”

Natasha pauses again for a moment before nodding and pulling you into a hug again. “I’m here,” she tells you, eyes watering against her will, “I’m here and I want to be here—for you, okay? You don’t need to feel like you have to hide from me.”

“You aren’t mad?” You ask, voice trembling. The relief you feel when she shakes her head no is immeasurable.

Natasha takes a couple of moments to gather herself after that, and gives you the same, before she speaks up again. Natasha has always filled you with a sense of comfort and security, and she’s doing that for you now in abundance, especially after what she tells you next.

“I’ve had hallucinations before, back in the Red Room. It was a side effect of the training I was undergoing at the time.” Natasha kisses your temple, then your cheek, and your nose, just trying to make you feel loved while she speaks. “They were terrifying, Y/N, I can’t imagine what you go through constantly,” She pauses, resting her head against yours and rubbing the spot where you hit your head earlier. “You are so strong.”

You don’t feel that way now...but you’ve always just sort of believed Natasha, and though you don’t believe she’s right this one time—because it’s hard to believe that about yourself— you believe Natasha thinks so.

And to have Natasha, of all people, believe that you’re strong is all you’ll need for now, because Natasha has shown that she can believe enough for the both of you. And well…

It’s Black Widow.

“I love you,” you say, wanting her to know, needing her to, because you not telling Natasha about this has nothing to do with her and everything to do with your insecurities. When you tell her so she gives you a gentle smile and a small nod.

“And even with all of my own insecurities, I believe you,” she assures, and then gives you a small kiss. “I love you, too.”

Your resounding grin and eye waggle has her rolling her eyes, “yeah? You love-love me? Not just like-like? Sound like big emotions,” you tease, trying to lighten the mood. Natasha seems to sense as much because she shoves you away and leaves you on the floor.

“I should’ve expected that a child can’t be serious for too long,” she mutters, giving you a smile to make sure you know she’s joking, “is my little girl ready to eat now? Is she hungry?”

You grimace, scrunching your face up in distaste. “And now you just sound like a pedophile…” it’s completely worth it when Natasha groans and throws a pillow at you.

“Okay, okay, let’s go eat,” you laugh, feeling an immense amount of love when Natasha gives you a look that’s full of her own.

“...after five more minutes of hugs,” she suggests, and really...how can you say no to that?

“That sounds pleasing too.”

“Good.”

“Good,” you repeat, only getting another eye roll.

[beautifulterriblequeen]

A Tiadrin theory

I woke up this morning with a sudden headcanon about Tiadrin, and as I poked at it, it filled out nicely, so I’m gonna go ahead and call it a theory at this point.

It gets angsty, as all good Moonshadow theories do. If your heart doesn’t weigh 6 tons by the time you reach the end of this post, I didn’t capture the feeling properly.

Several bits of detail flutter around this mysterious woman, and I’ve theorized various versions of her circumstances, her relationship with Runaan and Ethari, her former position before the Storm Spire, the reasons she went there, and the reasons Runaan was so hellbent on avenging her dishonor.

I don’t think any of them landed as well or tied together as neatly as this one, though. Hence “theory” instead of just “headcanon.” Here we go:

FIrstly, some meta information. This is a fun tweet, but in this post I’m looking directly at “belief systems as sources of both comfort and restraint” and at the “weight of guilt” and “cycles of trauma” lines, in regards to Moonshadow culture, and specifically Moonshadow assassin training.

And raise your hand if you’ve been looking further afield than the front-and-center Janaya-with-Soren nod from “ripped women who teach soft boys to stab,” because I have. TDP is full of parallels and imperfect mirrors.

So, in the spirit of soft yet angsty cycles and the ripped women who perpetuate them, Theory Part I: Tiadrin trained Runaan, because she was the leader of the assassins before he was.

She’s referred to as a mastermind. Assassin leaders need to be good with plans of all sizes. We’ve seen how Runaan silently adapts to chaos and doesn’t tell anyone what his new plans actually are. He’s a good leader. But he also had to learn those skills from someone. Whoever instructed him was a tactical genius, and also very Moonshadow, and Runaan was an adept student.

Also, Tiadrin is a goddamn badass. She’s several inches shorter than Lain, Runaan, Ethari, and Viren. But she is a powerhouse in battle. She knows her physics well enough to drag this 6′2″ human battle mage skidding across the floor. Monster thighs, monster intellect.

As a 5′4″ woman who trained in jujitsu for several years, let me just say: gender equality in battle is great, but physics does not care. It will crush your popsicle-stick ass if you try to chuck a 250 lb person across the room and your math is off. The most accurate fighters are the ones who know how hard physics hits back when you’re sloppy.

Tiadrin earned every inch of respect, and every inch of her thigh circumference, the old-fashioned way. She worked for it, all day every day. Runaan does the same thing. He might have half a foot of height on her, but he trains like the world will crush him if he’s not perfect. And that’s very Moonshadow assassin in its own right, because it will, and it tried. Tiadrin knew what she needed. And she knew what Runaan, soft boy that he is, needed. And she made sure she trained it into him, all day every day.

Tiadrin is one of the reasons that Runaan survived the fight in Harrow’s chamber. She made him the fighter he is, the person he is, and that was just enough to pull him through... so he could see his own mentor trapped in a coin. Yay, thanks Viren.

Theory Part II: Runaan’s squad was made up of all the elves Tiadrin has personally trained, or trained by proxy.

If Tiadrin was Runaan’s trainer and mentor, then her honor was his honor. And when she supposedly faltered and fled at the Storm Spire, that suddenly cast him, as an individual assassin and as the current assassin leader, in a terrible light. If his mentor was a coward, what did she teach him? Would he also duck and run when things got hopeless, and abandon his duty?

The doubt that must’ve swirled around him when the village learned the terrible news about Lain and Tiadrin must’ve sliced right through him. Thousand-yard stare, biggest internal Oh No ever. Runaan lives to serve his people, and to have them doubt him, after all he has done to train them and protect them from harm, would be the worst kind of pain. He had to make it right.

But not just him. Assassins seem to take solo missions even for their first kill, if Eljaal’s covered shoulders are any indication. You can Moonshadow your feels if you don’t have to watch your friend kill someone, if you don’t have anyone watching while you stab someone to death. You can pretend it’s all serene and just and smooth and valid and honorable. You can hold to your love of life and dance right past your embrace of death, if no one else sees it. But Runaan’s mission had 6 members. They were definitely going to have to watch each other murder people. Why?

Tiadrin’s honor was their honor. An extended family of brothers, sisters, cousins, fosterlings, anyone who was drawn to Tiadrin, or her to them, bonded together over their family feels and protective instincts. They were family. And then their leader fell, her honor crushed.

They had to make it right.

They all carried Tiadrin’s honor with their own, taught by her personally, regarded as honorable assassins. Until she seemed to have a fatal flaw in her character. Then everyone wondered if that flaw got passed down, too. The assassins had to prove that it hadn’t been, for the sake of their people, and for all of Xadia who trusted them to take out threats in the dark. They had to go set right Tiadrin’s “mistake” and take Harrow for Zym’s death. All of them. Every single one, no exceptions.

No exceptions. That’s why Rayla had to go, too. Tiadrin taught Runaan everything he knew about being an assassin, and when she moved to the Storm Spire, Runaan dutifully passed Rayla’s mother’s teachings to Rayla herself, feeling like part of the family, an essential connection between mother and daughter, between assassin mentor and mentee. He tried to get it just right, just perfect, so Rayla would feel like she’d been trained by her actual mom as much as possible. Not just because Tiadrin was Rayla’s mother, but because Runaan respects Tiadrin’s prowess so much. She was the best, and every bit of Runaan’s efforts to be his best reflects his respect for her.

You don’t get to be the assassin leader unless you’re the best there is. Runaan knows that from both sides. And just like Tiadrin did with him, he does his best to teach Rayla everything she needs to stay safe and alive, so she can do her duty too, and come home safe to her family every day.

And, in the end, part of that duty had to be avenging her mentor’s mentor, her own mother, by accompanying Runaan on his mission. Her lessons were from Tiadrin, one step removed. If there was a flaw in her training, no one would trust her when it was her turn to lead the assassins, and she’s not even done training yet! Rayla understood Moonshadow honor, assassin honor. She was driven to ask Runaan to take her with him, and he could see exactly where she was coming from. Their honor was tangled up with Tiadrin’s. They couldn’t back out. They had to go to Katolis, them and everyone else Tiadrin had trained.

That’s why the binding ribbons came out. They were in a do-or-die situation, in the most literal sense.

They could not go home in failure. If they all failed, it would take out a whole line of assassin training, possibly the same one that had lasted for countless generations (okay maybe we can count them and there are like 30) and crush the Moonshadows’ spirits. And they’d literally rather die than see that happen. They were all ready to give their lives to restore Tiadrin’s honor, and their own, because without her legacy, there would be such a crater in the assassin corps that it might never recover.

Yes, this is basically my angsty “Runaan’s found family went into battle together and most of them died” headcanon again, but this time with a solid theory behind it. I’m not sorry. I love this angsty idea, it’s horrible. Do you see the cycle of trauma? I’ve got one more part to add, which may make it clearer.

Theory Part III: Assassin leaders always go serve at the Storm Spire once they successfully train their own replacement.

In this theory’s version of Why Laindrin Went To The Storm Spire, Tiadrin was always going to end up at the Storm Spire, once she became the assassin leader. That’s where the veteran assassin leader goes, see, to liaison between the dragon throne and the current Moonshadow leader. They know the assassins’ skills far better than any Skywings or dragons do, and they know the leader in charge of them, so they can give guidance or direction as needed, or simply phrase the Dragon King or Queen’s request in such language that the assassin leader knows intuitively what really needs to be done.

Yeah, Tiadrin writing Runaan mission directives. I can see it.

Tiadrin’s mentor would’ve left for the Spire when Tiadrin got promoted to leader. The person she trusted most in the world, who had trained her, left her behind, only to communicate by long distance. Moonshadow deniability, amirite--we’re not stabbing people, we’re sending tactical correspondence, yep that’s it. But Tiadrin was still surrounded by Runaan and the other young assassins, and she bonded with them all, and life was bright.

Then, the shadow came once again. Runaan was an excellent student, and she knew he was ready. Maybe she delayed, and delayed, Moonshadowing her reasons. Maybe she wanted the chance to bring life into the world, to try to balance out some of the death she had dealt. Maybe she wanted a few more years of domestic life in the Silvergrove with all her favorite elves, to bolster her heart for the years to come. Maybe her mentor at the Spire was up to shenaniganry in dragon politics and she wanted to buy them more time to lay those plans in place.

Knowing Tiadrin even the slightest bit, I will assume it was all this and more. But eventually, she couldn’t put things off any longer. She had to go fulfill her duty to the dragon throne and join the Dragonguard as the representative of the Moonshadow assassins who had bound themselves to the protection of Xadia long ago. She had to walk away from her bright life, her family, her friends, her allies, and climb up into that misty stone tower, to spend who knows how long away from everything she knew and loved.

And she did. She chose to walk away, for love of Xadia. She took her beloved husband with her, but she left the Silvergrove, Xadia’s protection, and her own daughter’s upbringing in the hands of the elf she chose to replace her. The soft boy she’d taught to stab, who would teach her baby girl to stab, too.

Because this is The Way.

I know I’ve had an angsty headcanon that assassins don’t retire. But, consider this: maybe one of them can. One of Tiadrin’s many plans could have been counting on Runaan’s extreme prowess and devotion to Rayla. If Tiadrin knew that she could return to the Silvergrove in peace and retire there with Lain once Runaan trained Rayla to take his place as the assassin leader, then she could live in the Silvergrove again for the rest of her life, and also get to see Rayla grown big and strong and become the assassin leader herself, another proud elf in a long line of honor and tradition. She might feel that was a big accomplishment, considering the dangers they all face. And it would be.

Yes, this would hinge on the fact that Runaan would have to leave the Silvergrove to replace Tiadrin at the Storm Spire, to serve as Rayla’s liaison to the dragon throne. Cycles of trauma, remember? Tiadrin can’t have all of her family back in one place, ever again. She has to love and train someone enough to put them through the life that she’s having to live, and she has to be strong enough not to let that break her. And then, she has to choose between them. She chose Runaan first, so that she could hope to choose Rayla later. She trusted him with all the future happiness of her heart. And he did his best with it.

But they didn’t quite make it, in the end, because of Viren.

I know this has been a lot of angst. I know. But there is a moonlit lining to this theory, and I think we all need to consider it. If there is a cycle of taking the assassin leader out of the Silvergrove to serve the dragon throne for ancient promise reasons, then if that ancient promise is ever rescinded or redressed in an effective way, the family won’t need to keep yeeting loved ones out of its orbit. And if assassins cease to be a necessary evil as a result, then no one will have to leave, or stab, again. At least, not for the same angsty reasons. They could stay together and never need to leave again.

It won’t be easy to break such a cycle. It might be impossible. But if anyone can manage it, it’ll be Tiadrin, and her family.

extra headcanon for this theory:

Tiadrin, packing up for the Storm Spire: One last thing, Runaan.

Runaan, stoically attentive because what are feels on the day your mentor leaves you: Yes, Tiadrin?

Tiadrin: Ethari will need to pick an apprentice to replace him, too. He should start looking now.

Runaan: Why? Only the Silvergrove’s Master Craftsman gets to pick an apprentice, and Ethari isn’t--

Tiadrin: *wink” Not yet, he’s not.

Runaan: Tiadrin, please, what have you done?

Tiadrin: I want to come back here someday, Runaan. I want to see your good work with Rayla. And I can’t do that if you flat-out refuse to leave your husband when Avizandum calls for you to replace me. So he needs to be ready to leave, too.

Runaan: I, I, I would nev-- I couldn’t--

Tiadrin: *patting his shoulder briskly as she strides out* Mmhmm, sure thing, kid. The council votes him in next Thursday. Be good while I’m gone! I want to find this place exactly the way I’m leaving it. Lain, honey, get your coat!

Lain, in the next room: Yes, Tiadrin!

Runaan, soft-eyed, to the silence in her wake: Yes, Tiadrin.

[reinerispretty]

rotations. (zuko x f!reader) pt15

hehehe hiiii thank you so much for reading!! i hope you guys enjoyed the last part and this one! :) this one is more of a filler chapter!! we’ll get back to the good stuff in the next one :D

pt1

pt14

pt16

“I wanted to say sorry, again. When I left the Fire Nation, I didn’t want to see you because I didn’t want to see your disappointment. I was worried that maybe your father had said something that had made you change your mind about me.” 

(Y/N) had taken time bathing herself that night. The houses of the royal families were incredibly elaborate, so each room had its own bathroom. The water that ran from the taps was cold, since usually there was at least one firebending servant that would run around to heat the water. That night, (Y/N) was the firebending servant for her friends. Once she had heated everyone’s water, she trudged up the stairs to her own bathroom and began preparing her bath. 

It had been a long time since she had had a bubblebath. Luckily, she remembered where the servants used to put the soap and added an outrageous amount of hot water in the tub. Once the bubbles were to her liking, she slid inside and released a content sigh. 

The events of the day had eased the turmoil in her heart. While she was still recovering from the hurt that Zuko had caused her, the anger had subsided tremendously. (Y/N) could feel the tension that had been in her muscles ever since Zuko joined their group ease away as the hot water seeped into her skin. 

She didn’t know how long she had been in there, but the moon was high by the time she stepped out to dry herself off. She took one of the fluffy robes from the closet and wrapped herself in it. It felt a bit stiff, like it hadn’t been worn in a while, but it gave her some comfort. It reminded her of home.

A knock resounded against the wood door to her bedroom. Quickly, she opened it, revealing Zuko standing awkwardly in the hallway. 

“Oh,” she said. “Hi.” She still felt guilty from their fight earlier. She had gotten so angry and lost control, something she had never done before. She felt no better than the Fire Lord himself. 

“Hi,” Zuko said. He looked past her and into her room. “I noticed you picked your old room.” 

“Yeah, it’s the only one that felt comfortable.” She gave Zuko a weak smile. “Don’t tell Aang that he’s in Azula’s.” 

Zuko laughed his raspy, beautiful laugh. (Y/N’s) heart felt uncomfortable in her chest. Like it had grown too big. 

“It’s weird,” she continued. “Being back here. Everything was so different the last time I was here.” 

“Yeah,” Zuko agreed. “I know the feeling.” She knew that the last time he had been here was when he was still with Mai. He had visited the island with her, Azula, and Ty Lee. A reunion had happened, of sorts. Minus (Y/N). “Can I...come in?” 

She nodded, stepping to the side. He walked directly to the chair in front of the vanity, which was all the way across the room from where she would go to sit on her bed. The distance between them felt like miles. 

“I wanted to say sorry, again. When I left the Fire Nation, I didn’t want to see you because I didn’t want to see your disappointment. I was worried that maybe your father had said something that had made you change your mind about me.” 

“My father could never do that, Zuko.” 

“I know. And I think back then, I knew that too. But then I saw you with the Avatar, and we didn’t have the reunion that I wanted. It just made me so mad that you were fighting with the person that was preventing me from going home. I was so angry after we would fight. I felt like you were picking him over me. Then in Ba Sing Se, when you came to visit, I know I didn’t look like it, but I was so happy that day. But then underneath the palace, you were fighting against Azula and I. I had worked it into my head that you and Uncle were traitors. The entire time that I was back home and you were in prison, I couldn’t shake the feeling that I had done something wrong. I walked around the halls of the palace and it all felt fake, like something was missing. Now I realize that I had been wrong about everything. While I know it doesn’t excuse it, I wanted to tell you again how sorry I am.” 

(Y/N) blinked at him. She wasn’t quite sure what to say. Never in a million years would the Zuko she knew have expressed his thoughts so clearly. A lot had happened to them, to the both of them, since they had last been together like this. He had grown and changed into someone who learned from his mistakes and sought to rectify his wrongs. She hadn’t let herself see that when he first joined them.

“I forgive you.” Her voice was soft, but her gaze was piercing. Zuko felt like she was staring straight into his soul. “I’m sorry for being so mean to you when you first got here.” 

“You had every right to be.” 

“I didn’t, though. Even when I was at my angriest with you, I couldn’t truly believe that you were evil. Believe me, I tried. Everything that you did to hurt my friends and I should’ve made me hate you, but it didn’t. I think that it made me mad that I couldn’t fully be mad at you.” She bent her head down and looked at her hands. “I should have never, ever challenged you to an Agni Kai, Zuko. I was just so upset and once I started saying it, I just couldn’t stop. I would never actually want to hurt you.” 

“I know, (Y/N).” They stood at the same time. “It’s nice to be here. With you. When I was here before it felt...” He trailed off, leaving his sentence incomplete. 

She smiled. “As surprising as this sounds, it’s good to be back.” Zuko smiled. 

“I’ll uh, be in my room if you need me.” She nodded, shutting the door behind him as he walked out. She dressed in her pajamas and crawled into bed, turning on the side to face the empty wall. If she pretended hard enough, she was a kid again. Life was easy and all she had to worry about was mastering her newest firebending move. 

When she came downstairs the next day, Sokka was practically begging the entire group to go see a play about their lives. “C’mon!” He said. “It’ll be fun. We deserve to live a little!” 

And while the last thing (Y/N) wanted was to watch a play about herself, she came along anyway. It would be a lot better than sitting in the beach house by herself. The old memories that came flooding back whenever she turned a corner were too much sometimes. 

Despite coming to the island nearly every summer when she was younger, (Y/N) had never been to the theater. Her father and Zuko’s were always far too busy to deal with such frivolous things (meaning their children). 

They had chosen balcony seating, but who to sit next to was a serious question that was bothering (Y/N). The only open seats were by either Zuko and Sokka and while her relationships were improving with both, she wasn’t sure if she could spend two hours sat next to them. So she grabbed Aang by the shoulders and shoved him down into the seat next to Zuko. She took her own seat on the other side of Aang. 

“Thank you,” She whispered to him as the lights dimmed. Aang furrowed his brows in confusion and then shrugged. 

At the start of the play, (Y/N) was enjoying herself. Aang’s actor portrayed him as an idealistic child, which made her laugh. Katara’s character was always wailing about hope and Sokka’s was a bit cringy, but so was Sokka. But then, her character appeared on-stage. 

The actress portraying her tripped over her baggy Earth Kingdom clothes as she stumbled into Sokka’s character. “Wow,” Fake (Y/N) swooned, her eyes wide. “You’re so handsome!” 

(Y/N) shrank into her seat, hiding her face from her friends as they turned to look at her. 

“I live an amazing life up in my father’s mansion in this city. I have everything I could have ever asked for, but I am very selfish!” Her character smiled and put her hands on her hips. “That’s why I’ve decided to betray the Fire Nation and help the Avatar!” 

The audience booed at her. Throughout the rest of the play, all her character did was cry over how unfairly she had been treated by her nation. “And then!” Her character exclaimed. “They gave me bananas instead of the apples I had ordered from the servants!” Fake (Y/N) burst into tears. She did that a lot. 

When her character and Zuko’s encountered each other, her character burst into tears again. “Zuko! My one true love, who was taken away from me by the wretched Fire Nation! I am so happy to see you!” Her character leaned in for a kiss, but he pushed her face away. 

“I don’t talk to traitors!” Zuko’s character declared. This made Fake (Y/N) cry even harder. 

“Why--doesn’t--h-he---want--m-me?” Her character said between sobs. 

(Y/N) rolled her eyes and was so thankful when intermission arrived. She was the first out of her seat and waited outside the theater for her friends. 

“Wow!” Sokka said as he exited the theater. “That play’s amazing. So accurate! Except, my guy could use a few pointers.” 

“Accurate?” Katara scoffed, crossing her arms. “I beg to differ. My character is nothing like me.” 

“Sure,” Toph snorted. 

“I agree with Katara,” (Y/N) said, her face contorted into a frown. “I’m not anything like that character.” 

“Are you sure about that?” Toph asked with a smirk. (Y/N) punched her in the arm, her face turning red as she glanced at Zuko. He gave her a small smile. 

The play was all lies and she knew that. It took the most exciting parts of their adventures and amplified them for the stage. She knew she didn’t cry that much and she certainly had never called Zuko her one true love. Not out loud, at least. 

---

Tag List!

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[centrally-unplanned]

Allocating Your Aesthetic Budget: Sailor Moon Edition

Sailor Moon is a show that undoubtedly built a powerhouse of a visual brand. Should I even bother posting a screenshot of the sailor scouts, given that I am 100% confident anyone reading this can recall them instantly? I guess it won’t hurt: 

Anime is often really good at creating iconic designs like this, through repetition of the visuals. It is awkward in live action shows if characters just wear the same outfit every scene (what, they only own one outfit? Are they homeless/work in the tech industry?), but animation gives us enough aesthetic “distance”, an awareness that this isn’t accurate to real life, that you can buy into the conceit. By wearing the same outfit every time, it just becomes the character. Not to mention a studio can really save quite a few bucks by streamlining production with neat tricks like having only one character design to animate - when you are on a shoe-string budget, like pretty much every anime in the 90’s was, every cut corner counts.

What is interesting about Sailor Moon is that most of the time it doesn’t really use this conceit at all.

-----------

Episode 15 of Sailor Moon’s first season has, in its opening act, this shot of all of the Senshi (at the time) talking to the plot-of-the-day character, who clearly trains rock Pokemon in 16-bit caves in his off hours:

If you knew nothing about these three characters, you could probably infer about 80% of their personality just from their outfits. Usagi (the blond one in the middle, if that's necessary) is wearing:

Light pastel colours, with pink on top of that: girly, feminine, bubbly and breezy

Short-but-not-too-short of a skirt, and red heels: cares about fashion, wants to project an image of being a woman with a romantic hint to it

Long-twin tails w/ buns: Contrasting the shoes, she is still immature and childish. It also means she is the protagonist of an anime 

Rei (far right) rocks a very different look:

T-shirt and jean shorts, shoes over heels: sensible, practical, a bit sporty

Very short shorts, long black hair: Confident, a bit aggressive, and suggestive of a more overt sexuality

Ami (far left) settles into a more restrained vibe with:

Full, long, but sleeveless dress, bob-cut hair: Chaste, more conservative, but not to the point of prudishness; particularly with the length (and the hand posture, shielding her body) probably a bit shy

Monochrome blue colour in outfit & hair: reserved, serene, possessing a calm demeanor

I know I have seen the show already, but really none of these details are a stretch - this is just the language of fashion. And all of these outfits are outfits that the characters have never (or rarely) worn before up until this point. The cast of Sailor Moon, far from that animation conceit of “standard outfits”, change clothes all…

the….

time.

     I just randomly clicked on episodes to find these, it requires no hunting

And while it isn’t always as spot on as the top picture, they all in some way embody the language of visual design to speak to the personality of the characters. If you want to see more, check out one of the multiple tumblrs dedicated to the everyday clothing the Sailor Senshi wear, because of course those exist.

If this was a 2010’s Kyoto Animation show, pointing this out would be the end of it - every one of their shows has this level of impeccable detail. Sailor Moon is notable in that it is not at all that kind of show; the animation and designs in Sailor Moon take perpetual shortcuts to get the job done. I don’t think the transformation sequences need to be belabored - the way they permitted the team to recycle identical animation sequences, multiple times per episode, was surely a godsend to the production schedule. Yet not all of the budget limitations are so prettily masked:

     I’m sure they finished the background art in the...VHS release?

The show is filled with dirty animation, unfinished backgrounds, backgrounds that are a simple color gradient for no clear reason, and so on. It is clear that the Sailor Moon team did not have the resources for every detail - which is why the decision of what details they did choose to prioritize is so interesting.

----------

What is the point of Sailor Moon? I do believe that shows have “points”; and by that I don’t mean a message or theme but a core appeal to an audience, something specific that they will get out of the show. Almost every show appeals along multiple axes, and Sailor Moon is no exception, but I want to focus on one: aesthetic identification.

If you learn someone is a Sailor Moon fan, there is the obvious follow-up question you have to ask, namely “which Sailor Senshi are you?” It’s the which-Harry-Potter-house-are-you question of anime, a horoscope where you can choose your sign (in this case literally). The premise of this concept is not hard for media to execute on - it is just personality traits and aesthetics grouped together under a label, a basic building block of media and clickbait internet quizzes. Harry Potter, ironically, raised up its memetic question almost by accident, as its focus is so squarely on House Gryffindor that the others are almost forgotten; it was just so mind-bogglingly popular that it didn’t matter. 

Sailor Moon, however, takes this concept and allocates so much of its aesthetic budget into making it a centerpiece of the show. Sailor Moon herself is a klutzy, lazy romantic, Sailor Mercury is a shy, earnest bookworm, and so on, with none of them ever really becoming very complex characters. However, the show devotes itself to making you *feel* these archetypes as strongly and intricately as possible. All of those outfit changes are chosen because not only do real girls care about their outfits and can therefore identify more strongly with characters who do the same, but so they can constantly emulate their archetype in diverse, different ways. The show doesn't have the budget for intense action scenes, so after Sailor Moon engages in her hyper-serious transformation sequences, she proceeds to, nearly every time, bumble through the combat scenes like this:

Oh sure, the scenes are done this way because it is funny (and good comedy can be done on any budget - these shots are frequently still frames with motion lines!), but it is also done this way because Sailor Moon is a total screw-up, and if you identify with that it is validating to see someone “just like you” able to pull off wins despite it all. The transformation sequences are not only beautiful animation that showcases aspirational power, but are also crafted to highlight the personalities of the Senshi in question - unless you think aggressive, combative Rei got fire powers by coincidence. Half of the run-time of every episode is spent, not on the plot du-jour, but on light-hearted personal squabbles between the cast because those scenes are not just funny, but also allow for far more moments of character expression. 

All of that work pays off in building with the audience, not a connection with a character who reflects their identity in total, but a connection that reflects one aspect of their identity in an extremely deep (dare I say multifaceted?) way. I think if you were to describe Sailor Moon as a “shallow” show, you would actually be right to say so, in a sense. These characters will never have the true depth of personality, themes and so on of a more ‘adult’ show. But those adult shows have to spend their effort somewhere - for all that the themes of say Evangelion or Paranoia Agent are pristinely detailed and impactful, you aren’t ever going to be memorizing the moves of their transformation sequences. The way Sailor Moon committed so strongly to fleshing out the archetypes the Senshi stood for is, I think, one of the keys to how this cast of five became so iconic.

     Not even their school uniforms match! They had to spend time in-universe *justifying* this!

----------

A Final Note:

At least, everything I’ve said here applies to Sailor Moon at its peaks. The show, however, is not one without its stumbles, even in Season 1. This section doesn’t flow into the core essay too well, but I wanted to note it because if you were to watch Sailor Moon today, you might struggle to feel the dynamic outlined above. The biggest culprit here is the length - Season 1 is 46 episodes long, and sections of it most certainly drag. They also take a startlingly long time to introduce the cast - this choice builds tension around their arrival, but it also means the later Senshi get a lot less time to establish themselves. Sailor Venus in particular gets hamstrung by this - she is introduced and then immediately arc plot elements sweep the narrative, and so she is left as a hollow shell for some time. The pacing of the show is undoubtedly flawed.

I think Sailor Moon is a show that you do have to keep its time and place in mind for - namely, middle schoolers and anime nerds watching it on broadcast TV in the 90’s. As an adult you “get” the point of the show pretty quickly, and get satiated on it almost as fast. Watching it all in a few sittings only heightens this problem. For a younger audience, and one that is waiting for a week between episodes with no internet for plot reminders, all that extra time is needed to jog memories and build connections. And younger audiences just have that limitless commitment to the things they love! If you think no one could actually enjoy seeing the same transformation sequence for the 30th time, watch it with someone who would have died for this show when they were 10 and you will be disabused of that notion *very* quickly. 

Still, we can’t travel back in time - Sailor Moon is a show of its era. There are “filler-reduced” guides out there, though I caution that the plot of Sailor Moon is absolutely not the point of the show in comparison to the character dynamics, and so sometimes the filler is the best part (Cat-Rhett Butler is the best character in the show YOU KNOW I’M RIGHT). Certainly, however, some method must be used to cut down on its length. If you are going to be a first time viewer in adulthood, that reality should be kept in mind, and if you do accept it for what it is you can really appreciate its core appeal - and don’t forget to finish it off with a 1990′s era internet personality quiz to really wrap it up!

[eminems-skittles]

broken mugs and broken hearts [spencer reid x reader]

spencer reid x fem!reader warnings: angst, breakup word count: 1.7k ☾ ⋆*･ﾟ:⋆*･ﾟ:⠀ *⋆.*:･ﾟ .: ⋆*･ﾟ: .⋆

the smell of night lingered in the room as a chilled wind rustled the blinds of the open window. crickets chirped in the distance and the hum of car engines from the busy street met her ears. she sighed as she settled into the warm blankets on their shared bed. well, now it was her bed. she let her eyes wander around the room, memories of them, of him flooding her mind. her eyes drifted to the corner of the room, the memory of when they slow danced in candlelight playing in her mind. tears gathered in her eyes. she looked away, focusing on the side of the bed that he slept on. it was still made, untouched since the morning he left. the only thing out of place was his pillow, which she swapped for her own. it smelled like him. the scent of old books and coffee lingered on the pillow even after two weeks. she thought back to the weeks leading up to their demise, silently scolding herself for not realizing sooner. a tear slid down her cheek. she thought about the morning they broke up. the morning he effortlessly shattered her heart into a million tiny pieces, leaving her to clean up the shards of their love by herself.

y/n walked into the sun bathed kitchen humming the song that had been stuck in her head for the past three days. she wasn't sure where she had heard it but she couldn't seem to get the catchy tune out of her head. she floated through the kitchen, the rhythmic click of her heels paired with her humming alerted spencer of her presence. he held his breath as she pressed a kiss to his cheek, mumbling 'good morning, darling.' he stiffly nodded his head, his eyes remaining on the newspaper in his hands. y/n pulled away, confused by his lack of response.

"everything alright, darling?" she asked as she slowly moved to the counter to pour herself a cup of coffee. once again she was met with silence. "darl-"

"i can't do this any more," spencer interrupted, his voice harsh and low.

"you can't do what anymore?" she asked cautiously.

"this. i can't be in this relationship anymore. i can't," he forced out.

"did i do something? we can fix this. please," y/n begged. tears began to slide down her cheeks, her makeup following the wet trails.

"we can't fix this."

"yes we ca-"

"no, y/n." she was taken aback by the force in his voice. "we can't fix this because i don't want to fix it. i don't love you anymore."

and with that final blow to her heart, he grabbed his jacket and walked out the front door. she held onto the counter, gripping it as if her life depended on it. in a strange way, maybe her life did depend on it. if she let go, she would surely collapse and who knows if she'd be able to pull herself up. she couldn't even comprehend what had just happened. in a matter of minutes, her life had been flipped upside down. she stared at the table as hot tears furiously fell from her eyes. his cereal was barely touched, the milk still sitting on the counter. his coffee cup was next to the bowl, mocking her as she wept. of course he had chosen to use the mug she got him for a secret santa that penelope had arranged several years ago. y/n strode over to the table and delicately lifted the mug up to her eyes. she examined it for a second before turning towards the empty wall. she laughed to herself, remembering how her and spencer always said they were going to hang up their pictures but never got around to doing it. her bitter laughter turned into painful sobs as she thought more about it. without even thinking, she threw the mug at the blank wall. she barely flinched when it crashed into a million small pieces. she had done to the mug what spencer did to her heart, and she couldn't bring herself to clean up the pieces of broken glass. not when she had to clean up the pieces of a broken heart and broken relationship. she trudged over to her phone and called her best friend.

"y/n? where are you? you were supposed to be here fifteen minutes ago," emily's voice, full of concern, flood through the speakers.

"can you...can you tell hotch i won't be in today?" y/n sniffled.

"are you alright? oh hey, reid. what's up with y/n?" she heard emily ask.

"don't ask him," y/n breathed out. "we...we broke up this morning."

"oh sweetie," emily sighed. "i'll come over tonight okay?"

y/n sighed as she recalled the night that followed their split. she spent several hours crying into emily's shoulder. emily didn't ask about the broken glass on the floor, and y/n didn't explain.

in the two weeks since they broke up, y/n didn't go to work. instead, she laid in bed all day with the blinds drawn shut and blankets piled over her. she cried until she felt her lungs burn and her head ache, longing for spencer to be there holding her. she barely checked her phone, letting all of her phone calls go to voicemail. she had completely cut herself off from the world outside of her bedroom.

more tears fell as she recalled the past two weeks. she brought the back of her hand up to her teary eyes, brushing away as many tears as she could.

a sharp knock on her front door brought her mind back to the room. her eyes lazily dragged from spencer's pillow to the clock on the night stand. 11:34. she hesitantly got out of bed, pulling spencer's old sweater tighter around her body. she slowly padded down the hallway the person knocked again. she froze when she heard the jangling of keys and a lock unlocking. when the door swung open, she gasped in shock.

"what are you doing here?" she asked him. the only thing separating them was the kitchen table. well, that and the broken mug that she had yet to sweep up.

"i was worried about you. emily and penelope said you haven't been returning their calls," spencer explained as he stood awkwardly by the door. his eyes trailed from her to the broken mug strewn across the floor. "what happened?"

"what happened? what happened?" y/n asked, bitter humor in her voice. "what happened, spencer, is you did to me what i did to that mug. you took my heart and you smashed it into millions of tiny pieces and you didn't even bother to clean up the mess."

"y/n-"

"no, spencer. now is my chance to speak. you said everything you needed to say two weeks ago. do you know how painful it's been? how hard it is to try to fall asleep knowing that the love of your life doesn't love you anymore? or knowing that the love of your life just left you there to break into a million tiny pieces without caring about the aftermath? because i do. it's hell, spencer. it's actual hell. i've never felt so much pain in my entire life. what did i do wrong? was i not enough for you? did you find someone new who was prettier or-" spencer cut her off by pressing his lips to hers. y/n pushed his chest lightly. "don't do that spencer. you don't get to do that anymore. you don't love me, remember?"

"y/n, i made a mistake," spencer sighed. "i thought that if i cut things off with you, that if i ended things, i'd be able to keep you safe."

"spencer, we have the same job. we are constantly in danger. don't lie to me," y/n said, walking over to the couch. spencer followed her but sat on the coffee table in front of her.

"i'm not lying, y/n. i just- i wanted to protect you from cat. if you're with me, you're a target to her. i didn't want you to be hurt, or..." he trailed off.

"or killed," y/n finish. spencer nodded. he hesitantly picked up her hand, breathing a sigh of relief when she interlocked their fingers. "spencer..."

"i didn't mean it. i still love you. i love you more than i can accurately describe. i honestly don't know why i did it. i really thought that i was helping keep you safe but instead i hurt you more than cat ever could," spencer said, his eyes never leaving hers. "please, take me back, y/n."

"spencer, you really hurt me and that's not okay. i understand why you did it but it still hurt," y/n mumbled.

"i know, y/n. i know i fucked up but please give me one chance and i'll spend the rest of my life making it up to you."

y/n was silent for a second and the sounds of crickets and cars filled the room. she squeezed his hand lightly and smiled at him. "one more chance. but let me make this clear, if you ever pull that shit again, then we're done. for real."

"i completely understand. words cannot express how truly sorry i am, y/n. i was an asshole and i shouldn't have said the things i said. i love you," spencer whispered the last three words.

"i love you too, spencer. now come on, you owe me two weeks worth of hugs, cuddles and kisses," y/n said. spencer smiled at her before leaning forward and pressing a gentle kiss to her lips. when they broke apart, he rested his forehead against hers, their breaths mingling. "oh, um, sorry about your mug."

"don't worry about it," he whispered. he helped her off the couch and led her to their room.

the two of them slid into their respective sides before meeting in the middle, as if a magnet was pulling them together. spencer pulled y/n into his side, peppering several kisses across her forehead and cheeks.

"i missed this," he mumbled into her hair. "again, my love, i am so incredibly sorry."

"i know you are, spence. i know," y/n whispered back, kissing underneath his jaw.

silence fell over the two of them as the cold wind rustled the blinds, as crickets chirped and cars sped down the busy street a few blocks away. but all they focused on was the other's breathing. the sound of each and every inhale and exhale. the sound that told them they were home.

[itsclydebitches]

A weird defence I've seen of RWBY's conflicts has been that it's good writing simply by the virtue that people can disagree on what's the right thing to do in said conflict. Which doesn't work when one decision is being presented as the only valid choice while every other option is either not addressed or demonized. This isn't a story leaving a nuanced set of stances to explore, it's a guy on stage signalling the crowd to boo whenever someone goes against the Protag's decision.

Real quick, I want to talk about RWBY by not talking about RWBY. I’ve seen this argument a lot too and the tl;dr is that just because your audience debates the right action in a conflict  — something that is inevitable given how subjective media is  — doesn’t mean the story encouraged that reflection in any way. As you say, RWBY pretends that those disagreements don’t exist and that This Is The One (1) Right Answer... which entirely defeats the purpose of a morally nuanced situation in the first place. That lack is bad writing because it demonstrates the author’s inability to provide an accurate picture of the conflict while still ensuring we come out of it liking the parties involved. The conflict was too complex for them to manage alongside equally complex characterization, so they just pretended it was far simpler than it actually was. That’s not something to praise. 

But to get to the not RWBY part. I’ve mentioned this a couple times before, but one of the scenes that I think manages these sorts of conflicts really well is the funeral fight in The Haunting of Hill House, episodes 6, “Two Storms.” So warning from here on out for spoilers. Sometimes, the best way to see what’s not working well in one show is to look at another show that does (basically) the same thing successfully and compare the two. 

Normally I’d include screenshots, but Netflix doesn’t allow that :/ So I’m forced to rely on bullet points. 

The basic premise is that the Crain family has assembled in daughter Shirley’s funeral home, the night before they bury their sister, Nell. A lot of secrets are about to come to light. 

The scene kicks off when their father, Hugh, relays the call he got from the housekeeper the night of Nell’s death. She had committed suicide in the family’s childhood home. 

Though everyone knew how she’d died, son Steven is distraught at hearing the details and reveals that a few weeks prior Nell crashed a book signing of his. This shocks the others given that this was very unusual behavior for Nell. 

Shirley likewise reveals that she got a call from Nell who’d been worried about their brother, Luke, but hadn’t spoken to her the night of her death. The implication is that no one did. They’ll never know what was going through her head the night she died. 

Hugh reveals that she did call him. “I talked to her.” 

Stunned by this news, his children demand to know what was discussed and Hugh is clearly reluctant to continue. However, he eventually says that Nell wasn’t just worried about Luke, but also the “Bent Neck Lady,” a specter from her childhood.

The viewer knows that ghosts are real in this show. The kids don’t. Or rather, they all experienced supernatural occurrences in their childhood, are still experiencing them now, but only some of them are willing to admit they’re real. Steven is the diehard skeptic of the bunch and starts yelling at his father, accusing him of aiding Nell’s delusions and ignoring a family history of mental illness. In particular, he declares that this “makes you culpable [in her death].” 

Steven continues to accuse Hugh of “holding back information” about Nell and Hugh shoots back that “If I held back anything it was to protect you kids.” The viewer understands Hugh’s dilemma: the only reason he keeps things to himself is because Steven and the others refuse to believe the truth, with an added dose of this supernatural stuff being very dangerous. Steven asks, “Why do I need protection from the truth?” 

Before their fight can go any further, Shirley tells Steven, “You might want to check yourself before you start talking about the truth.” He published an autobiographical book about their childhood trauma and notably capitalized on a supernatural angle he doesn’t believe in. Shirley calls it “blood money.” 

As the argument about the ethics of his book rages, Shirley defends herself primarily with how everyone else thinks this is “blood money” too. No one took a cut when Steven offered one, proving how despicable they all think it is. 

Meanwhile, sister Theo has been getting heat for being drunk (a coping mechanism for her own supernatural troubles) and Shirley eventually pushes her far enough that she admits she did take Steven’s money and used it to get her degree. “It’s good, fucking money.” Suddenly, Steven has someone in his corner and Shirley’s main defense has crumbled. 

Shirley is furious that Theo had this secret income but was still living with her and her husband. Theo reminds her that she offered to pay rent, but Shirley isn’t interested in hearing that. She demands that Theo move out immediately and uses this betrayal as the new way to protect herself. She’s the victim here. 

Steven, sensing another secret in the works, cautions Shirley to “get off your high horse before you fall off.” 

Shirley maintains her position until her husband blurts that they also took Steven’s money. Shirley hasn’t been running the funeral home well and they would have sunk without it. 

Despite being the punching bag for the second half of this fight, Shirley is offered both reassurance and dignity. Her husband emphasizes that the only reason they’re struggling is because Shirley is a good person. She does too much work pro bono. Shirley also delivers the line, “Do you have any idea how much you’ve humiliated me?” calling into question the husband’s choice to admit this now, purely as a way to prove her wrong. 

Shirley leaves to get some distance and discovers that someone — something — has put buttons over Nell’s eyes. The shock of this keeps the fight from continuing and, as plot intervenes, gives the characters the space needed to eventually start healing and forgiving one another, notably by sitting with the various truths they all now have to grapple with. 

Phew! A long summary, but I’ve put this much detail in to highlight the nuance of the scene. Obviously RWBY would differ in many ways  — less cursing, for one  — but the core elements of any morally complex scene should be the same. The important takeaways here are that no one in the Crain family are “pure” or “evil” and everyone gets their chance to be both right and wrong. Hugh is right that Steven won’t listen to him and wrong in that he didn’t do enough to help his kids. We get Steven and Hugh’s frustration, their understanding of the world at odds with one another. Steven is wrong to put everything on his father and justified in starting his writing career with their story. We watch the scene move from “Steven is Wrong and everyone agrees” to “Oh shit nm, more and more of the family are revealing that they benefited from his money, complicating how “wrong” he actually is.” Shirley is right to point out that Theo is getting drunk during their sister’s funeral and Theo is right to point out that being drunk doesn’t erase having a good point. Theo is allowed to scream at the group and then immediately be offered help when she falls. Shirley pretends she’s better than all of them and is slowly, horrifyingly proven wrong, but is then still extended compassion and is allowed to point out how horribly they’ve just treated her. The husband is right about the money, wrong about keeping it a secret/revealing it the way he did, right in how he tries to diffuse the other fights, and VERY wrong by getting caught kissing Theo down in the storeroom! 

The scene twists and turns in a way that highlights everyone’s points and their flaws, the moments when their perspective should be upheld and questioned. The end result is a scene that has space for the audience to debate everyone’s choices without imposing the single view of This Person Is Obviously Wrong/Right and If You Think Otherwise You’re Not Watching The Show Correctly. The show itself acknowledges the complexity and nuance of these problems. It asks, “Hugh should have tried harder, but what more can he do when his kids literally don’t believe this stuff exists? Was Steven really justified in writing a book about their collective experiences? What does it mean that something his family sees as capitalizing on their trauma also helped them keep businesses and schooling afloat? Was it okay for Shirley’s husband to keep that money a secret, even if it helped them? How might he have told her in a less cruel manner? What about Shirley’s life has led to her intense need to be on that ‘high horse’?” 

And of course: “Who is really responsible for Nell’s death?” By this point the viewer already knows that there is no “really” here. This is too complicated a tragedy to lay the blame at any one person’s feet. Everyone in this room has moments of justified accusations and moments of chastisement because they’re well written, well rounded characters who are neither saints nor devils. The length of the scene (done in a single shot!) emphasizes that if you just wait long enough, even the most perfect looking person will eventually have a skeleton pulled from their closet. No one is above mistakes. 

RWBY has NONE of that. Zip. Nada. Nothing. RWBY gave us a scenario with many of the same, core themes  — secret keeping, secrets unwillingly revealed, blaming others for your mistakes, hurtful actions with helpful consequences, questioning who is responsible for a tragic death  — and instead of even attempting to give us some of the above nuance, RWBY said only that Ruby was right, Ozpin was wrong, and demanding that the audience ignore the nuance they could already see in order to accept the canon. 

RWBY’s scene asks the audience to play dumb and look at the world as a Black and White place, despite the show simultaneously insisting that “the world isn’t a fairy tale” and is, in fact, filled with shades of gray. 

Just not any shades of gray that mess with that dichotomy that now drives the story.  

That’s not good writing. It’s oblivious and contradictory writing that makes the audience frustrated. Not satisfied, surprised, contemplative, or curious. Just frustrated. 

[ranger-kellyn]

Do you ever think about how in BOTW Robbie says in his diary he never got to say goodbye to Purah? Like- I can't. I JUST CAN'T! 😭

WHEN I TELL U I THINK ABOUT THAT NEARLY EVERY DAY I AM ONLY BARELY EXAGGERATING

i reFUSE to accept it. i think he lied in his notebook. they all write their journals like they're EXPECTING them to be read. they all LIED and i rEFUSE-

-----

have the extended wip from my very first wip wednesday based on this VERY THING

-----

Slapping her hands over her mouth was all Purah could do to smother her own laughter, watching as Robbie smacked Link in his lower back with his rolled-up notebook.

“I’m starting to think I liked it better when you kept your nose outta things!” Robbie said, huffing and puffing his entire way back to his chair.

“I’m sorry!” Link said, keeping his distance out of swatting range.

Robbie swatted at the air, grumbling again.

Looking over at Link, all Purah could do was grin. “What’cha get into this time, Linky?” she asked.

He crossed his arms, face flushed with embarrassment.

“Journals I never said he could read!” Robbie answered, getting another laugh from Purah.

“How was I supposed to distinguish that from all your other mess of papers that you said I could?” Link asked.

The look Robbie shot her was that of, ‘Can you believe this guy?’

She shook her head. “Now he’s done it to both of us…”

Robbie continued to fuss at Link, all the way until Jerren and Zelda came to his rescue, dragging him along on their trip to Skull Lake to further investigate the shrine that was there.

Given it had been over 100 years since they last saw one another, Purah opted to stay behind with Robbie to continue catching up.

For the both of them, seeing one another after so long was...odd, at best; but in the same breath, odd always accompanied their relationship in some way, pre-calamity and post-calamity, so it wasn’t too hard to find a rhythm with one another again.

On Purah’s end, it was odd seeing Robbie as he was now. As a little old man, with a wife and a kid. (Never mind the part where his wife had been her assistant at one time)

For Robbie, even though he was fully aware of her experiment that had led to her physically reverting to a child, nothing could have prepared him to see her looking almost exactly as she did the day they last saw one another, the only key difference being a lack of dye in her hair and on her nails.

“What was he even getting into, anyway?” Purah asked, setting her cup of tea on the table separating them.

Unrolling the notebook, he leaned forward to place them down, angled to where she could read the first page -an invitation to continue reading if she wanted. “Just an old journal detailing coming out here and whatnot. My fault for having it out, I guess.”

Waiting for him to lean back, she looked down at it. “Can I?” she asked.

He nodded. “Go ahead. Nothing good in there, anyways. Just a lot of guilt,” he said, tugging at her heart.

She knew the feeling all too well. Far too many of her early journals were just detailed rants about the guilt she felt about not having done enough to stop the calamity.

As she began to read the first few pages, a smile tugged at her lips. His writing always tended to be more...poetic. Writing tended to be the only place he ever properly gathered his thoughts, whereas when speaking he could easily get off on one tangent, only to go down six other tangents before finally getting to the point.

It was one of many things that helped them get along, seeing as she was no better in the manner.

“Pushy? Me a pushy woman?” She asked, her grin evident in her tone.

He crossed his arms, returning the grin. “Don’t even pretend like you don’t know what I’m talking about,” he said.

She rolled her eyes in a playful manner. “I have never been pushy a day in my life. Especially not when it came to you,” she teased.

He chuckled. “Pushiest damn woman I’ve ever worked with,” he said.

When she looked up at him over the notebook, it occurred to him that, a lifetime ago, the look would have been more than enough to drive him mad in only the best kind of way. In only the way Purah ever did.

“Oh, please, you liked it. You wouldn’t have rolled over so easily if you didn’t. Mister Rebel Without A Cause only ever let me push him around,” she added.

“You and now my wife, apparently,” he said, thinking nothing of the comment.

Purah hesitated, re-reading the same line she had been on again. “That’s because I trained her first,” she said.

She re-read the line again, still not absorbing any of the words, too suddenly consumed with the thought of her oldest partner marrying and having a child with her old assistant. An assistant who was fifty years younger than the both of them.

If there was one major drawback of suddenly being so much younger, physically, it was that her emotions had distinctly become harder to control again. All the experience from her lifetime wasn’t enough when faced with a frontal lobe that wasn’t fully developed again.

A frontal lobe that only wanted to scream about how wrong all of it was. A frontal lobe that was competing with the knowledge that the calamity had forced people into odd situations, good, bad, and indifferent.

Robbie and Jerren were merely a product of the calamity; two people making the best of a bad situation neither had any control over and--

She re-read the line for a third time, finally registering a few words.

Though, it was thanks to her third re-read that she realized something: this wasn’t Robbie’s writing.

At least, it wasn’t his writing from when it would have been written.

Despite his hasty nature, his handwriting had always been immaculate. Neat, flowing letters, always in a perfect line even without some sort of paper line to guide him.

This handwriting was...scratchier. Some things didn’t connect the way they would have in the past. It wasn’t like his current handwriting, but it was better…

As she turned the page to continue reading, she hesitated.

Up to that point, she knew his account wasn’t entirely accurate, but had chalked it up to emotions getting in the way.

The way he described their parting, however, was an outright lie.

“Lost in my thoughts, I didn't notice that Dr. Purah had slipped away. I knew Hateno Village wasn't much farther along the road, and that the Calamity had barely touched that area... So I felt safe letting her continue on her own. We parted ways without even saying good-bye, I suppose. Stirring myself back to action, I set out on my own journey back to Kakariko Village.”

Closing the notebook over her finger, she looked up at Robbie. “You and I both know that’s not how we parted,” she said, keeping her voice down, as though there was even anybody to overhear.

He looked away, unable to come up with a response.

“I might have skipped over some details, but I at least implied what happened,” she continued, feeling a distinct ache in her chest, cursing her young body. She had sworn a long time ago she had put all those feelings to rest.

Rubbing the back of his neck, he carefully looked back up at her. “You know I very well couldn't have written out every little detail like some trashy novel-”

“Like I said, I at least implied…” she defended.

Though, there had been a journal, long ago, right after she set up in Hateno, where she detailed everything. From everything the two of them had done, to every emotion she had forced herself to hold back from saying.

The guilt she felt from burning it in the ancient furnace nagged at her now and then.

“Don’t know why I’m trying to keep secrets after 100 years.” He adjusted himself to be more comfortable in his chair. “That’s an amended version, Cherry.”

From the other room, she just barely heard the Ancient Oven stir to life, a low grinding sound as it moved around.

Despite herself, she felt a shiver run up her spine. It had been a long time since she last heard that nickname. A nickname he had given her after she first put the red streak in her hair. A nickname she only allowed him to use.

A nickname she realized he had omitted from the journal -something he would have never done in the past.

She leaned forward again to put the notebook back in its place, her desire to read any more thoroughly quashed. “You never told Jerren about us, did you?” she asked.

“No, but in my defense, you never did, either,” he said.

“No, but I didn’t knock her up and marry her, did I?” she asked, not holding back any of the bite.

He seemed to flinch at her words.

Over 100 years later, and she could still get a rise out of him; always knowing just how to get under his skin.

And like 100 years ago, no matter how much he wanted to fight back, he rolled over.

“Jerren wasn’t even born by the time you and I had to part ways. There wasn’t a point in bringing it up,” he said.

She’d rather he just punch her in the gut.

She wanted to fight back. To yell. To lay into him for making her think that what they had never actually meant anything.

For the life of her, she couldn’t. No words would come out.

Robbie breathed a laugh. “I know that look, Cherry.” She wanted to tell him to drop the nickname. “Whatever you’re overthinking, don’t overthink it.”

She rolled her eyes, pushing herself back into her chair. “Easy for you to say. You’ve got an old man's brain! I’m over here stuck with my dumb twenty-something brain that is determined to bring up every dumb emotion I swore up and down I had buried!”

He was silent for an uncomfortably long time.

Staring at the fire crackling away in the fireplace, she nearly jumped when he said her name.

“Humor me. Come with me a minute,” he said, sliding off his chair.

She said nothing, but stood to follow him.

He led them back into the main room, where the Ancient Oven turned to greet them, their weird voice tone still grating to Purah’s ears.

“Greetings, Dr. Robbie and FamiliarNameMissing,” they said.

Robbie chuckled, regarding the machine with a look that was probably uncomfortably soft for just about anyone else. Purah, however, remembered the look well. He had always been attached to the guardians they had drug into the Royal Research Lab, giving each of them individual names.

At the time, she pretended to think it was stupid, but, secretly, she had known all the names he had given them.

“My pride and joy, the Ancient Oven. Few things I love more in life,” he said.

She breathed a laugh, uncrossing her arms.

“Jerren, though...hates it,” he continued, getting another laugh from Purah.

“Kinda figured that. The way the poor thing sprung to life after Link finally replaced the blue flame told me it hadn’t been on for a while,” she said.

It had been rather sweet; Link not even needing to be asked to do it. The second they arrived, he saw that the outside furnace wasn’t lit, and headed off without prompt. The personality adjustment was still new to everyone, but he still had his core, endearing qualities.

“Ancient Oven wasn’t her original name,” Robbie continued. “And well...I suppose you deserve the truth.”

The machine looked between the both of them, Purah now regarding her...differently.

“Ancient Oven, what’s your name?” he asked.

She focused on him. “My name is simply Ancient Oven,” she responded in her odd cadence.

He shook his head. “What’s your real name? The name I gave you?” he clarified.

She hummed for a second, a slow grind of her gears. “My name is Cherry.”

There had been considerable heat emitted from the machine before, but Purah was positive the heat she was now feeling was from her own flush.

“Why are you named that?” Robbie asked.

“I am named after the first woman you ever loved...” The machine almost seemed to hesitate.

Maybe it was a part of her programing to acknowledge everyone within her vicinity while talking.

Maybe it was pure happenstance.

Maybe the machine somehow knew.

“Cherry,” she concluded, looking straight at Purah.

If she was flushed before, she was having a full-on hot flash now.

“Don’t misunderstand me. I love Jerren dearly. I love the son she gave me more than life itself...but there will always be a part of me that belongs to you.”

Run.

She wanted to run.

She wasn’t sure what was making it so hard to breathe. The heat from Cherry, her own flush, or the knowledge that she could say the very same to him.

She wanted to cry.

“I’m sorry-- I shouldn't be here,” she said, turning on her heel to leave.

“Purah-”

“No, no- I shouldn't be here. This was stupid- I’m so fucking stupid-- I knew coming here would do this! I knew seeing you would do this,” she said, ranting her way to the door. She didn’t even bother going back for her coat, or anything else she didn’t have on her person. Zelda and Link could grab it for all she cared. She needed to get out.

“Purah, please,” he pleaded, following her to the door.

The midday air outside was far cooler thanks to the constant breeze coming off the ocean.

She looked around, searching for Mule among the horses in the nearby holding pen.

“Maybe I should have left without saying goodbye! I knew it then-- I should have made you hate me! Getting you to hate me- I should have. I should have done it.” She nearly tripped down the stairs, barely catching herself in time.

“You know damn well I could never hate you. I only ever lo-”

She instantly reared on him, talking over him so she didn’t have to hear that word. “Don’t! Don’t say it! Don’t you fucking say it!” she yelled.

Words that were all too familiar.

Words she said before.

Her eyes began to sting as she fought back tears. “I don’t care if you don’t feel it now, but don’t you dare tell me you felt it then!”

He waved his hands in exasperation. “Why? What is so damn bad about hearing me tell you how I felt?” he asked.

“Because you just don’t get it! You don’t get how pathetic I feel because I never got over you! I never moved on! I promised you I wouldn’t let you hold me back, but I lied to both of us! For over 100 years, I never moved on! I’m pathetic!” she yelled.

Only the wind dared to break the silence that followed. A soft rustle of the spring leaves. A sound far softer than her confession.

It took everything in her to not crumble in on herself. “You just don’t get it, Robbie. Maybe it was easier for you to move on, but I just...I never could.”

He grabbed a hold of the railing, but made no motion towards her. He only looked pained. “I don’t know what to say here, Purah. Nothing I can think of will make you feel better.”

[deputytrash]

Shotgunning

Rating: Explicit (18+ ONLY)

Fandom: Red Dead Redemption (Video Games)

Relationship: Javier Escuella/Female Reader

Words: 3898

Summary: Javier teaches you about how good smoking marijuana feels, among other things

Featuring period accurate underwear, the historically accurate spelling of marijuana and some inclusions of how I felt the first time I smoked weed (which was 100% less saucy than this reader's first time smoking).

Read on AO3

It was quiet around the camp. Darkness had long since rolled in as everyone settled in for the night, finished with their drinking and chatting. You'd drawn the short end of the stick on chores earlier in the day so you were just finally wrapping up. When you'd gone to Miss Grimshaw to bring her the mended and washed clothes, she had taken them and told you to "go on and do as you please then." You fully intended to do just that.

You stopped by your bedroll, stripping off your day clothes down to your underthings, a simple off-white slip of fabric over your bloomers, and made your way to Pearson's wagon. You were determined to spend what little was left of the night relaxing with a bottle and a book. You'd more than earned the lazy time, after all. You managed to find a bottle of whiskey in acceptable condition and made your way to the scout campfire. It was always quieter just a bit outside of camp, and you were eager to get away from the bustle of it all for a moment.

You started that way, noticed Javier lounging in the area. Nervous butterflies fluttered in your gut and you paused, considering turning back, if only for the sake of your nerves. You certainly weren't unhappy to see him. Honestly, you quite liked the man. Your instantaneous friendly affections had quickly developed into a pesky crush that had been frustratingly unyielding in your attempts to suppress it. His smooth words and warm smiles always managed to pull you back and get you terribly flustered.

Javier was settled with his back against one of the logs circling the fire. He'd slipped down to his union suit and pants, suspenders hanging off his hips and falling in the dirt. His long legs stretched out in front of him, crossed at the ankle as he smoked. His movements were slow and languid as he glanced over at your approaching figure and gave you a lazy little smile. You smiled back.

Your grin faltered as you came closer, though, your nose picking up a strong, unfamiliar scent. You looked around searching for the source. "Javier, what the fuck is that smell?" Your eyes settled on the twisted cigarette between his fingers. It looked hand-rolled. Had he run out of regular cigarettes? "Are you sure that tobacco's still good? It seriously smells like rotten shit."

"Hey, that's not nice," Javier laughed, eyes red-tinged and mirthful. "And that's 'cause it's not tobacco," he said, cryptically.

"What the fuck is it then?" You wrinkled your nose, but you were already noticing the smell less as the smoke drifted off with the wind. He laughed again, shaking his head.

"Hosea is gonna give you a lecture on bad language if you keep that up," He teased. You blushed and rolled your eyes, but he wasn't wrong. "It's marihuana. I used to smoke it all the time back in Mexico. You want to try it?" He raised his eyebrows, offering you the twisted up cigarette with one blackened end.

"Marihuana?" You tested the word in your mouth. It sounded a lot weirder without Javier's smooth accent. "I've never heard of it." When you don't take the cigarette from him, Javier shrugs, bringing his arm back down to rest on his lap.

"Same thing as cannabis. It's in some medicines around here," he explained.

You shifted on your feet, embarrassed at your sheer ignorance on the topic at hand. "Sorry, I don't really know medicine stuff." You sat down on the other half of the log he was leaned against, movements somewhat stiff and awkward. "Been meaning to learn, but it's hard to know what's real and what's snake oil these days…Anyway, if it's medicine why are you smokin' it?" You hoped Javier wasn't sick or something.

"Well, It's not always medicine. It also just…feels good. Kinda like when you smoke too much tobacco, but a lot better and without the sick feeling," he said with a pointed smirk. You let out an embarrassed laugh, knowing he was thinking of the first time you'd smoked tobacco. It was a few years ago when you had, foolishly, tried to keep pace with Dutch's smoking and had ended up dizzy and green. You'd tried to play it off, making some excuse to shuffle away, but Javier had caught on. He'd stepped away from the group, making you promise not to throw up on him as he led you to your bedroll. Once there, Mary Beth had promptly shooed him away and insisted on taking care of you, herself; God bless the woman.

Javier brought a swiftly lit match back up to the cigarette at his lips. He inhaled, pausing and coughing on the exhale as he shook out the match, throwing the little wooden stick into the sandy dirt.

"Are you okay?" His cough worried you. "Does it hurt?"

"No, no." He coughed again, tried and failed to pass it off as clearing his throat. "Just…been a while since I've done this." He gave you a goofy grin that you couldn't help but return.

You looked down to take a drink of your whiskey. Was that too long of eye contact just then? You hoped you hadn't weirded him out. God, was a quick smile really all it took to muss up the entirety of your composure?

Javier called your name, breaking you from your thoughts. You looked over to find him with a curious smile on his face. "I've got an idea if you want to try this." He waved the cigarette in his hand. "Just to ease you into it. Don't have to, but I think you'd like it."

You thought for a moment, some nervousness building again before saying fuck it and nodding. You knew Javier would never rope you into something that might hurt you. "Yeah, alright. I'll give it a try."

"Come over here and sit next to me, then." You hesitated before gathering your bravery to settle down beside him. He smiled at you, noticing your tenseness. "Don't have to be nervous, I promise. It'll be fun."

You nodded, but you were more nervous about the proximity than the drug.

"Okay, so, what I'm going to do is get some smoke and breathe it out to you. You just breathe in, hold it for a little, and let it out, okay? And if you want to stop, just tell me." You nodded again, dizzy at the inherent intimacy of the proposal.

Javier took a deep breath off of the cigarette. He held the smoke in his lungs for a moment and motioned for you to move in closer to him. He managed to maintain a just on this side of platonic distance from you as he gently blew smoke to your lips. You breathed in as deeply as you could before, twisting away to hack out the smoke, forgetting about the holding it in part entirely. He laughed, patting your back as you relearned how to breathe.

"Sorry," you muttered, coughing, feeling embarrassed.

Javier was nonplussed. "'S no problem. You want to try again?"

"Gimme a minute," you replied. He nodded.

Your mouth was bone-dry and desperate for liquid. "Fuck, where's my whiskey?" Javier grabbed it, taking a swig for himself before moving to hand it to you.

"Here," he said, handing it to you. "Don't drink too much. I know you've got a good tolerance, but marihuana makes alcohol a lot stronger." You coughed again, taking a drink. You were really wishing that you'd brought some water up here.

It took a moment before your breathing settled down, lungs thankful for the return of regular old oxygen. You took another moment, preparing yourself. "Okay, I'm ready."

He followed the same series of steps as before, but this time you managed to hold it for a few seconds before hacking it back out. He patted your back again, settling his arm to stretch out on the log behind you afterward.

You felt yourself relax. Something distinctly not alcohol was working through your blood, plying your muscles and calming your mind. You blinked. Your eyes felt swollen and heavy. Everything felt like it was moving just a bit more slowly.

You looked over at Javier and he gave you a conspiratorial smile. "You starting to feel it? You look like you are."

You nodded, the simple movement spurring a heady, dizzy feeling. "Shit, I think so."

"Good. Let it settle in for a minute and I can give you some more." You nodded, again, eyes settling on the fire. It was beautiful. The chaotic pattern of the flames shifting and licking at the sky entranced you and, as you glanced at Javier again, you felt how absolutely beautiful he was as well.

He smiled lazily as he met your gaze. "You having fun? Feel good?"

"Y-yeah," You breathed, suddenly recognizing your staring for what it was and looking down at your hands wringing them together, embarrassed.

"Do you want some more?" He asked.

Did you? You felt good, better than you had felt in a while, despite the nervous thrumming of your heart in your rib cage. You nodded and watched him as he effortlessly worked through the same routine again.

He inhaled the smoke into his lungs and leaned in to breathe it out to you again. His eyes were heavy as he watched your lips drink it in. Fuck, was he closer? Your tongue was dry and sticky in your mouth as you tried to lick your lips, holding the smoke in your lungs. Your eyes fell closed on the exhale, mind wrapped in a warm swirling haze before you pulled away and coughed out the smoke into your hand.

His palm was rubbing your back now, cooing at you, softly working you through your hacking. Your inability to smoke without coughing was starting to feel more amusing than embarrassing and you choked out a laugh.

It was starting to get cold outside, now, as the night fully rolled in. The cool night air soothed your burning throat and chilled your flesh, the breeze raising goosebumps on your skin. Javier noticed, beckoned you closer. "Come here. You can lean against me if you're cold."

You shifted to move closer, dizziness hitting again as you fell into a fit of giggles. Your face felt ridiculous, like little bugs were dancing along the outline of every feature. You didn't want him to think you were laughing at him, but you couldn't hold it back. Everything felt hilarious.

"Hey, hey what's so funny?" He laughed nervously, ducking his head to meet your eyes.

You laughed again. You felt bizarre and goofy and light all at the same time. "I'm sorry, Javier. I ain't laughin' at you, but…I-I can feel my eyebrows." He gave you an amused but confused look as you bust out laughing again. "That sounds so stupid but they feel fuzzy." You reached up to scratch at your eyebrows, failing to hold back another giggle when the feeling stubbornly returned. You knew you were acting like a fool, but you couldn't seem to help it.

He laughed as well, shaking his head with a smile. "God, come here and get warm, giggles. You're ridiculous."

You shifted over obediently, laughter fading into a smile as you let your body melt into his side. He was warm and comfortable. He smelled like the smoke that still coated your throat mixed with something indescribable, but so distinctly him.

The weight of his arm settled strongly against your shoulders as his warm palm gently smoothed down the little bumps scattered across the skin of your arm. The texture of his hands against your skin was almost overwhelming as your hair follicles relaxed into the heat. Was this cuddling? Holy shit, you were cuddling Javier, you realized, belatedly.

"You're so soft," he murmured, fingers still brushing over your skin. Your cheeks flushed. Were you? You brushed your own fingers against your skin experimentally and found yourself strangely fascinated by the smooth texture.

"Oh shit, I am," you laughed and he raised his eyebrows, grinning down at you like you were the most lovely, silly, little thing he'd ever seen. You couldn't handle it. You pressed your face into his shirt, feeling sleepy and giddy and warm in too many ways.

"Look at me," he whispered. You peeked up at him with dazed, reddened eyes. "You're beautiful."

You hid your face again, picking at the skin of your fingers. "God, Javier you're not fair."

He chuckled, fingertips dancing lightly over your arm. Your skin momentarily pinched back up into little goosebumps before fading again "How am I not fair?" he laughed. "I'm sharing my marihuana with you. I'm warming you up. I even complimented you. I think I'm being very fair."

Goddammit. Your head was spinning. Where the fuck did he learn to be so charming? You wanted to tamp down this nervous energy bubbling inside you, get brave again. "Can I have some more?"

"Of course," he smiled. Flicking another match against the box, he readied the dwindling cigarette.

You were mere inches away this time. Javier's fingers moved to play with the soft hairs against your neck, rough thumb rubbing circles into your skin. Anticipation coiled in your belly, the thumping of heart louder than normal. Somehow, you managed not to cough this time, breathing the smoke back out to mix with his exhale. You met his eyes, felt the heat in them as he watched you. If your mouth felt dry before, it was the Sahara Desert now.

He leaned forward and kissed you. It was brief, quick, and chaste, but you felt like your world shifted, opening up before you. You stared at him before quickly kissing him again, the touch just as fleeting as the first. You stared at him, breathless, eyes searching his face, simultaneously frozen and utterly desperate for more.

He pulled you onto his lap, legs side-saddled, meeting your lips again. You were still riding an amazing high, body light and airy. He was warm against you as you deepened the kiss before pulling back for air. "I feel real good, Javier," you mumbled, breathless.

"I can make you feel even better if you want," he murmured, shifting to kiss down your jawline as his palm settled on the bare skin of your thigh. "Just say the word." Fuck, was this really happening?

"Please," you breathed, your voice knowing what you wanted before your thoughts had even caught up.

His teeth nipped at the flesh of your ear lobe as his palms felt over your body, his hands warm enough to feel even where your skin was still covered with cloth. He took his time, exploring you, slipping his fingers under the edges of your clothing to swipe over your skin, brief and teasing.

"God, Javier, I already said please," you breathed, overwhelmed and desperate.

"Patience. I want to savor you," he murmured against your cheek, kissing it. He worked your nightgown up until the bottom stitching fell around your thighs. "Spread your legs for me."

You shivered when the cold air rushed into the open crotch of your knickers as you shifted your legs. His fingers played with the fabric there momentarily, before lightly brushing over the hair covering your core. You stared at his every movement, fighting the urge to shove his hand further, press his fingers into you.

You looked up to find his eyes studying your face. Had he been watching your reactions this whole time? "I meant it when I said you're beautiful." You felt overwhelmed, tried to impress your feelings back with your lips against his.

You pulled back, hand resting on his cheek before pinching it lightly. He gave you a look.

"And I meant it when I said you're not fair," you complained, squirming in his lap, attempting to goad him into action. "Come on, Javier." You started to undo the line of buttons on his union suit, kissing his neck.

"Ay, I'm not fair, she says." he grinned, rolling his eyes, pulling your hand and mouth away from himself. "So impatient. I'll show you unfair."

He continued his gentle ministrations, escalating even more slowly than before. His palms worked over your breasts, squeezed over your thighs, fingers just barely brushing over your dripping slit. The frustrating heat in your belly grew heavier with every passing moment. Maybe you should've just kept your mouth shut.

"Javier," you groaned in exasperation.

"Yes?" he asked, mirthful and teasing.

What did he want? You were ready to do just about anything at this point, promise the man anything he wanted.

"Fuck, okay. You win. I'm sorry, Javier. You've been real nice to me; I mean it. Please touch me. Please," you begged, making no effort to hide your frustration.

Javier laughed. "Yeah? Where do you want me to touch you?" He spoke softly back to you. You resisted rolling your eyes. Of course, he was going to make you say it.

"My c-cunt," you squeaked out, lips embarrassingly falling over the word.

"Can't believe there's a word you're shy about saying," Javier laughed. "Come on, lift yourself up." He tapped against your butt. You raised up slightly as he worked your nightgown up past your hips. His fingers pulled at the tie on your knickers, loosening it and working them off as well.

"Shit," he hissed, palms immediately feeling over the revealed skin. "So good, you're so beautiful."

The warmth of his hands felt wonderful, but it wasn't what you wanted right now. "God, Javier, ain't I begged enough?"

His laugh shook against you. "You're so fussy." His fingertips shifted down to slip between the lips of your pussy as he groaned out a curse. You were soaked. You opened yourself wider for him, arm moving to grip behind his shoulder for balance. His fingers dragged the slick up to your clit and back down to your entrance before finally, finally pushing inside you.

"Oh, God, Javier," you whispered, more breath than words.

You clenched around his fingers, momentary relief at the stretch flooding your mind before he began fucking them into you, building you back up to desperation. The heel of his palm hit at the hood of your clit perfectly with each thrust as he quickly found the spot that made your legs shake.

"Never would've thought you'd be this needy," he laughed. "Always act so tough with everybody. You're real cute. I love it."

You buried your face against his shoulder, doing your best to stifle your whimpers and ragged groans. You gripped his shirt between your fingers, hips pressing back against his hand as wet noises echoed in your ears.

He shifted underneath you and you felt his cock, firmly pressed against your hip. He ground himself against you, hissing out a moan. "You make me fucking crazy."

"Fuck, Javier, I want you inside me," you whimpered, any resistance to begging left behind in the dirt. "Please fuck me. I'll do anything."

His teasing patience seemed to break at your words. He made a broken sound, hissing out a "shit" before pulling away to desperately wrestle with his belt buckle and the remaining buttons on his underclothes. "You have no idea what you do to me. You have no fucking idea how many times I've thought about you saying those words."

You lifted up, giving him room as he tugged his pants down just enough to pull his cock out. He shifted his body to a slightly more stretched out angle as you straddled his legs. His heated eyes jumped from your dripping pussy to your face. He looked dazed and desperate and you felt the same as you kissed him.

His hands gripped at your hips, tugging at you to move closer. "Come here, let me feel you."

"You sure I shouldn't show you some unfairness now?" you teased, palm wrapping around his cock to drag his foreskin over his tip.

The withering look he gave you was priceless. You didn't have any more patience in you either, admittedly, and, after a kiss on his frown, you clambered up his thighs, holding him at your entrance. He pulled you down to himself and you let him, sinking down to wrap yourself around him.

The fact that you were still a dizzy, inebriated mess really hit you once you tried to move in any cohesive way. Your rhythm was sloppy and unrefined as you ground your hips against his, hands gripping his shoulders for balance. The pleasant, heavy drag of him against you was building you back up, regardless.

You grew impatient, though, and quickly became frustrated with the nagging complaints of your muscles, already tired from the day. Javier must have noticed as he gripped your hips into the right position before planting his feet in the dirt to thrust up into you, hitting you at the perfect angle. He fucked into you with a far better rhythm than you had managed, hard and fast. The sudden change of pace had you whimpering out a throaty moan. He kissed you, drinking down the sound with a shushing noise.

"Gotta be quiet," he whispered, chuckling and obviously damn proud of himself. "Still got people on guard duty." You sobered up a fraction of an inch at the thought. You'd forgotten your surroundings, wrapped safely in your addled mind.

A well-aimed thrust from Javier had your attention snapping back to him and slipping back into your own foggy world. You struggled not to let out another noise, only somewhat successful. His tongue darted out to wet his lips. His hooded eyes focused on you, tracking every twitch and show of ecstasy that slipped over your face.

The tug in your core was becoming more and more insistent with every perfect hit Javier landed. You knew what you needed as you slipped two of your fingers into your mouth. You moved them to your clit, pressing against it and massaging it in rough, hurried circles. It wasn't long before you felt your body tensing and clamoring for the release Javier was pounding you towards.

Your lips stumbled over his name, eyes squeezed shut, too overwhelmed to add visual stimuli. "I'm-" was all you managed to skip out before your mouth fell open in a breathy, too-loud moan. Your pussy clenched tightly around him, falling into trembling aftershocks as he kept pace, chasing his own end.

"Fuck, yes, you're so good. You did so good. Feel so good," Javier mumbled, praise slipping out of his mouth mindlessly. His thrusts became deeper, less coordinated. He hissed out a final "fuck," fingers digging into your hips desperately before pulling out and jerking himself onto your thighs.

The pair of you fell to the dirt, exhausted and boneless and feeling so fucking good.

Javier picked up the cigarette from wherever it had landed, wagging it in front of you. "Still have a tiny bit more. You want to finish it with me?"

You grinned. "Fuck yeah, I do."

You wiped your thighs off with your knickers, settling in his lap as you breathed down the last of the cigarette with him, inhales interspersed with kisses and laughter.

Yeah, you were gonna have to find some more of this marihuana shit.

[spacebatisluvd]

Summary: Hordak navigates a new social setting with all the grace he can muster. (He's trying.)

Content Warning: Mermista is trying (but not very hard), Horde Prime's ableism and clone abuse, unhealthy mindsets, mild PTSD, references to chronic pain/disability.

-

Hordak hung back while Entrapta flitted about the clearing. He leaned against a tree, slipping into the metaphorical shadows. Scorpia was at Entrapta’s side and Sea Hawk trailed them both. Entrapta’s smile was big and broad as she turned in a circle, oohing over the newly decorated clearing. “This is really for me?” she asked.

Scorpia turned, looking at Mermista. She sighed and stepped forward. “Yeah, well....” She crossed her arms and looked away. “We, uh....” Adora cleared her throat, while Catra glared, tail twitching. “I felt bad. For making you feel like I didn’t want you here. We all did.”

Entrapta paused during her circuit of the clearing. Her hair pulled her toward Mermista in one long step, and now, spider-like, she loomed over her. “Really?” she asked, cocking her head. She pulled her mask down, cycling through the mask’s settings. “Are you just saying that to make me feel better?”

Mermista sighed. “No! Geeze, Geek Princess—of course we want you here.” She eyed Hordak with a sigh, but before she could say something she might regret, Sea Hawk looped his arms around her waist and grinned up at Entrapta.

“I for one am happy you’re both here!” he exclaimed.

Mermista grumbled a bit, but when Entrapta dropped to the ground in front of her, she offered a reserved smile. “Yeah, yeah,” she said, “I guess I’d rather keep an eye on him anyway.... So—sorry or whatever.” It was the closest approximation to an apology they could expect from her.

Perfuma approached from behind, offering a flower crown. “I’m sorry for any misunderstanding,” she said, holding out the flower crown. Entrapta took it in hand, but didn’t put it on. “I want this trip to be peaceful and relaxing for everyone.” She cast a nervous glance at Hordak. “If he’s your...chosen companion, then I’m happy to host him.” The vines in the trees slithered and their leaves rustled. “I’m sure he’ll be a good guest,” she said, still smiling.

Hordak cocked his head, not sure how to interpret the leaves’ fluttering. Entrapta just smiled hesitantly. “Of course! I told you; he’s very well mannered.”

The princess of Plumeria cast him an odd look. “If you say so.”

The young queen sidled up to Entrapta from the other side, smiling. “We’re glad you’re here.” The archer made an encouraging gesture, as if urging her on. “And we...want to get to know Hordak better too. Now that we’re not fighting or arguing over a treaty.” She actually offered him a smile, making him raise a brow-ridge.

Entrapta smiled, looking at all of them. “Thanks, guys. I’m really glad you’re giving him a chance. It means a lot.”

A rope of hair reached out, settling the flower crown on his head. He looked up at it and readjusted it so it was seated more comfortably on his head, then offered the staring Etherians a nod. The She-Ra pressed the back of her hand to her mouth, like she was trying to hide her smile, while the queen gave him a considering look. Perfuma seemed somewhat put-out that her carefully crafted crown had been passed on to him, and Mermista looked like she’d swallowed something sour. He ignored the doe-eyed looks he was getting from the archer, Scorpia, and Sea Hawk.

On Entrapta’s other side, the She-Ra guided her toward the tables of tiny food and fizzy drinks. Entrapta squealed, and Hordak smiled subtly, watching as she examined everything on offer.

“So, you guys are sticking around then?”

He turned to Catra, who had settled at his side in a too-casual slouch. He turned back to watch Entrapta. “So it would seem.”

“Good.”

He glanced at her, ears twitching. “You were not really going to leave for Salineas if we left, were you?”

She looked at him, then ducked her head and crossed her arms. “After Adora said she’d come too, I couldn’t exactly back out, could I?”

“Ah.”

She kicked idly at the ground. “And, I’ve been thinking, it’s not really...fair, is it?” He gave her a look, waiting. She sighed, arms crossed. “The treaty. You’re doing a lot of work to repair the damage the Horde caused, but...it’s not like you did that all on your own.”

He shook his head. “It was done on my orders or, at least, with my approval. It is my responsibility to repair.”

She shifted, looking uncomfortable. “Yeah, okay, but....” She sighed. “Look, if you want help with anything, I can probably slip away for a few days. Or something.”

“I am certain you have your own duties,” he said, folding his hands behind his back.

She looked at the ground, rubbing the back of her neck. “Not exactly.”

Entrapta’s sudden appearance in front of him interrupted the conversation. “Hordak! Look!”

A data pad was shoved in his face. He reared back, trying to get a good look, but Entrapta only raised herself up on her hair and pressed closer. “Bow’s designing a telescope!”

He finally managed to catch hold of the data pad and hold it at a readable distance. Catra, apparently put off by their audience, slunk away without a word. He paid her no mind, instead focusing on the plans before him. Bow, behind Entrapta, stared at him with wide eyes, and his hands twitched a little—as if he wanted to take the data pad back. Hordak could imagine that Entrapta probably hadn’t thought to ask permission before handing it off to him.

Taking pity on the archer, Hordak passed it back to him. “This looks very promising.”

The archer held the data pad close to his chest. “Yeah. My dads have been interested in getting some accurate star charts, to compare to some First Ones’ writing that looks—"

Hordak grunted as Entrapta folded over his shoulders from behind—her hands rested lightly on his shoulders and her hair wrapped itself around his waist. Thankfully, she was supporting her own weight on several ropes of hair, so she’d merely surprised him and hadn’t accidentally aggravated his aching muscles. “Ooh! The First Ones were Starfarers! They must have star charts! Maps!”

“Exactly,” Bow said, smiling at her. “My dads think that having modern star charts to compare them to might reveal more about their culture and history.”

Hordak nodded, but his brow-ridges furrowed. “Hmm. They are likely correct, but you’ll need a star chart from their time period, not ours. The universe is constantly expanding; the stars will have changed since their time, if only subtly.”

Bow’s face fell. “Oh.”

Tilting his head to meet Entrapta’s gaze, Hordak said, “We could create a computer program to model that, I believe.”

Her eyes widened, and her grip on him briefly tightened before she used her hair to launch herself overtop him. An excited squeal escaped her, and her eyes nearly sparkled as she began rapidly talking about such a program’s requirements, the data they’d need to collect to create it, and the data they could extrapolate from it. Hordak smiled fondly, watching her hands flutter as she paced. He blinked when a petal landed on his cheek, realizing her acrobatics had knocked his flower crown askew. He adjusted it and brushed the petal away.

The archer smiled as well, looking pleased. When Entrapta began to wind down, Hordak met his eye. “Would your...fathers find that helpful?” He was familiar enough with the idea of family units—while children in the Etherian Horde were raised communally, most had a primary caregiver or two that sponsored their ascent through the ranks—but he was uncertain how such units operated in civilian life.

“Yeah, I think they would.”

He gave a brief nod. “I will assist you as time permits.”

Entrapta gave another little squeal. “Great! Let me go get my data pad.”

Hordak would have been happy to follow her back to the yurt, but Bow smiled and raised a hand. “And leave in the middle of your party?”

“Oh, right.” Entrapta rubbed the back of her neck, still grinning. “That would be rude, wouldn’t it?”

Hordak shook his head, looking down at her. “You locked me out of my data pad, yet you’re so eager to return to yours.”

“Locked....?” Bow looked between them.

Entrapta’s eyes went wide. “Oh, right! I was supposed to talk to you about that! There will be no working this week. You are officially taking a break.” She smiled broadly, looking pleased with herself.

He huffed, a small smile tucked into the corner of his mouth. “Starlight, though your concern is...endearing, I told you—it is not necessary.”

“Everyone needs time off sometimes! Even you!”

He sighed, ears pulling back. “We have discussed this. I do not require time off to maintain productivity.”

She continued as if she hadn’t heard him. “I know you haven’t taken any time off since you returned to Etheria, and I know you didn’t while we were working on the portal. So that’s several years at least. Actually—have you ever taken time to yourself?” she asked. Then held up a finger very pointedly. “And I don’t mean time off because you were sick or hurt. When was the last time you spent a few days away from whatever you were working on and just did something for the fun of it?”

He frowned. “I....” He huffed, not sure how to make her understand. “That is not....” He folded his hands behind his back, even as his ears pulled down. “Prime would have disapproved of such frivolity. Even while separated from him, I still served him. Any...undue delays would not have been acceptable.” He, carefully, did not think of Prime’s eyes boring into his. He silenced the echo of an accusation—(There was even a time you wished I would not come for you)—and dug his claws into his palms, using the pain to focus on the present. “I would not have been able to justify it.”

Bow blinked. “Wait. Does that mean you’ve never...?”

He sighed, looking skyward. “No. But I do not need it, and even if I did, it still would not be appropriate. I am...pleased to be ‘kidnapped’.” He offered Entrapta a small nod before growing serious once more. “But that does not mean I can cease my work. Not entirely.” Surely, Entrapta would want to spend time with her friends on her own, without him. When she didn’t want him close at hand, then he would occupy himself with work.

Entrapta sighed, blowing an errant strand of hair out of her face. Her mouth rucked to the side as she considered the best way to approach the subject. Finally, hands together, she extended her index fingers and leveled them at him. “Hordak...Prime treated you and your brothers as if you were only valuable so long as you were useful. Do I understand that correctly?”

He instinctively shifted position, standing taller and straighter to better conceal the subtle pain that strained his shoulders. “Yes.”

The archer’s eyes widened, but Entrapta just nodded. “Is it possible that you’re insisting you don’t need a break because, by his standards, you would no longer be useful if you took one?”

“No!” he snapped, ears folding back. “Don’t be absurd.”

“Are you sure?”

He huffed, crossing his arms as he looked away. By Prime’s standards, he was already useless, but he wasn’t going to mention that in the archer’s presence. “I know that Prime was...” He swallowed. Why was this so difficult to admit? “Wrong. To...treat us as he did. I know that. However.” He folded his hands behind his back once again. “I, personally, caused more damage to this world than any of my brothers did individually. How can I work more diligently for Prime—knowing, now, that he did not deserve my devotion—than for a cause that is truly just? It would not be right to be less dedicated to reconstruction than I once was to reuniting with Prime.”

The archer made a strange sound, almost as if he were choking. “Whoa. Okay. Wait. Wait. That’s—you can’t—“ Bow exhaled hard, rubbing the back of his neck. “We’re not Prime. We don’t....” Hordak regarded him blankly, and Bow sighed, hands pressed together. He looked to Entrapta. “I don’t know how to explain this.”

A strand of hair patted his arm comfortingly. “It’s okay. Let me try.” She caught Hordak’s hands and said, “We agree that Prime placed unreasonable expectations on you and your brothers, right?”

He considered that, then offered a nod. “Yes.”

“Okay, great! Do you believe the peace treaty makes reasonable demands?”

“Yes. I would not have agreed to it if it were unreasonable.”

“Excellent! And the people of Etheria are, on the whole, rational, reasonable people?”

He huffed. “Not entirely rational, no, but most are reasonable, yes.”

“So, if Horde Prime demanded an unreasonable amount of devotion and dedication, but the treaty and its signatories are inherently reasonable—"

He cocked his head. “Then...it is unreasonable to hold myself to the same standards I did while under Prime’s command?”

She smiled, pumping his hands and rocking onto her toes. “You got it!”

Ears folded back, he shook his head. “That cannot be right.”

“Hordak, Prime didn’t treat you like a person. But you are! You’re allowed to take time for yourself and to do things for no reason except because you enjoy them!”

He swallowed, not able to meet her gaze—instead, he focused on a point somewhere past her left ear. “I enjoy my work,” he protested. It sounded weak even to his ears.

“But you’re more than just that. You’re allowed to have interests and hobbies outside your work.”

One ear twitched. “What is a ‘hobby’?”

The archer pressed his hands to his mouth and inhaled slowly. “Okay. This explains a few things. And we are definitely going to help you find some hobbies.”

This was becoming too much. Hordak shook his head. “I do not need a ‘hobby’, let alone multiple.”

“Hobbies aren’t something you need,” Bow said. “They’re for fun. That’s the point.”

Hordak huffed, crossing his arms. “I do not require ‘fun’—"

“Now you’re just being stubborn,” Entrapta said, earning a glare. She was right, of course, but that didn’t mean he was happy about it.

He growled softly. “Fine! I remain skeptical of your so called ‘hobbies’, but I will not attempt to work while we are at the festival.”

“You promise?”

He sighed. “Yes, Starlight. I promise. Now, I believe your friends are trying to get your attention.”

“They are?” She turned; the She-Ra and the young queen waved at her, motioning toward the tray of cupcakes. “Oh! Hi!” She waved back, and Mermista groaned aloud.

“You have to take a cupcake, Geek Princess.”

“Huh? Why?” Confused, Entrapta started wandering back over to them.

“It’s rude to pass out cake without the guest of honor,” Glimmer said. “You get the first piece. Or cupcake, I guess.”

“Ooh! Right. Forgot about that!” She caught Hordak’s hand in a rope of hair and pulled him along. He didn’t fight her, but he braced himself as they drew nearer, unsure how to navigate such an unusual social setting. Mermista groaned, but the archer remained at his elbow, smiling encouragingly. Scorpia and Sea Hawk soon joined him as well. Though he would not have admitted it—particularly not to Sea Hawk—it was nice to have allies close at hand.

Scorpia leaned close, though she was careful not to touch him. “Look,” she said, pointing to her own flower crown. “We match!”

He eyed the vivid red flowers, unsure how to respond. Finally, he said, “They suit you.” She beamed at him.

Sea Hawk sighed dramatically. “I wish I too had a clever, beautiful, fierce—" He pitched his voice to carry and cast a long look at Mermista. “—stunning, and generous woman to give me a flower crown.” Mermista sighed loudly.

Hordak cocked his head. “I imagine if you ask—"

“Shhh!” Sea Hawk shushed him. “It doesn’t count if I ask!”

Hordak eyed Scorpia, who shrugged. He huffed in response. “That is absurd.”

“It isn’t romantic if you have to ask,” Sea Hawk insisted.

Again, Scorpia offered a magnanimous shrug. “He’s not wrong,” she said.

Hordak shook his head, scowling. “Entrapta?”

She’d been oohing over the cupcakes and hadn’t heard their conversation. “Yes?”

“Is it less ‘romantic’ to ask for the things you want?”

“Ooh!” She grabbed two small cupcakes and brought them over, holding one out to him. “I don’t know—I guess it depends on what you consider romantic.”

He shifted uncomfortably, realizing that everyone had gathered in a loose circle with Entrapta at the center, their attention on her and Hordak. He tried to hide his discomfort, knowing full well he’d brought it on himself. “Explain,” he said stiffly.

Off to the side, Mermista snorted, and his ears drew back, the tips hot. “Well...” Entrapta dragged the word out, as was her habit. “I think it just depends on the person. Personally—" She drew herself up on her hair so she was nearly at eye level. “—I like it when people tell me what they want and how they’re feeling. I’ve never been good at figuring out what people want from me unless they tell me directly.”

He frowned. “I do not understand. How else are you to know?”

She shrugged. “No one else seems to have trouble understanding. Just me.” Her hair drooped and her eyes lowered as she said it.

He huffed. “This is not a Hivemind. You must use your words to communicate. Expecting anything else is ludicrous.”

She glanced at him, smiling as she held her hand out. “So you don’t think it’s unromantic? To have to ask if it’s okay to kiss someone?”

“I would consider it rude to do so without permission,” he said as he took her hand in his. She grinned at him and settled into a spot at his side.

Scorpia was giving them a strange look—eyes big and smile wide—even as she used one claw to restrain Sea Hawk and the other to keep him from speaking. Adora smiled gently, though Catra had wandered away from the group, turning her back on them. Glimmer and Perfuma looked alarmed and slightly uncomfortable, whereas Mermista refused to look at them at all. Bow’s expression mirrored Scorpia’s almost perfectly.

Their attention set him on edge, and he was tempted to withdraw from the group once more, but Entrapta’s gaze caught and held him. Her hand felt good in his, the material of her glove warm and smooth. His shoulders eased, and he remained at her side, despite the little twinge of unease. They were her friends; they would have to adjust to his presence and he to theirs.

Entrapta began licking the frosting from her cupcake, and she nudged him. “Are you going to eat that?”

“I.” He looked down at it, ears folding back. “Will try it later.” Eating while everyone was watching him seemed a step too far. Even if that meant he was left to awkwardly hold a tiny cupcake for the remainder of the ‘party’.

[dodgefred]

spring awakening for the direction thing please

this is another long one please hit read more

i sort of have two answers for this one because for a while i’ve been thinking about how i’d direct the spring awakening play so i have a bunch of ideas for that but you probably meant the spring awakening musical so i’m gonna do my thoughts for the play in bullet points and then i’ll go more in depth for the musical.

the play:

the time i wanted to seriously do this irl was mid-pandemic and i was losing my mind so a lot of my blocking ideas were fully socially distanced and every character would wear face masks matching their costumes.

on the note of costumes i really wanted to have the actors able to choose their own costumes. the style would be the nonspecific time period most productions go with w the girls in dresses and the boys in like suspenders or whatever. i think it would give the actors more of a sense of connection to the characters, especially considering how strange the text can be to modern americans.

it would be performed either outdoors in a field or in a blackbox theater. the set would be fairly minimalistic. i would love to find a set motif like the falsettos revival’s foam cube but i haven’t put too much thought into what exactly that motif would be.

i’m not sure how legal this is but i think it would be a fun reference to get soft instrumentals of the musical songs to play behind their corresponding scenes.

any scene where actors would need to be closer than six feet (touching, kissing, etc) would be prefilmed in a silhouette style and projected onto a white sheet. this way actors would only have to be physically close once and not every night. during the show, actors would go behind the sheet for the scene. metaphorically this would also be an indication of the concept that while the children generally aren’t afraid of sex or kissing, they still have the knowledge that it’s an intimate act and still have some sort of inherent shame attached to it.

unrelated to my ideas specifically for this because i just thought of this but on that note i also think it would be really interesting for a production where the actors act behind a white sheet and all the audience sees is silhouettes. i think it would be a really cool way to play with shapes like that, and a bit of an extra challenge for the actors to try and be emotive and expressive when no one can see their expressions. it would also add to the idea of the children in the show not being understood despite their best efforts.

now in terms of the musical, i’m jumping around a lot for this one because with spring awakening i’ve seen it so many times and everyone’s done it a million different ways and so i don’t have exact ideas for the show scene-by-scene like i did with alice by heart. i do have an overall concept i’d like to follow, as well as a few specific scenes that i’d like to address. this is also going to focus more on my mindset while directing rather than the blocking and concepts itself, because spring awakening is much more clear with its stage directions than alice by heart is.

i know this is cheesy af but hear me out: a les mis dallas-style modernized production would hit so different. i’ve seen a lot of spring awakening productions and a lot of them try modernizing it but the directors don’t understand that putting a modern outfit on a period piece isn’t going to change much in the grand scheme of things. however i do think a lot of the problems in spring awakening can and should be addressed under a modern lens- these are real issues that still plague today’s youth, albeit maybe less dramatic than death by botched abortion.

this is also why for the song of purple summer, i’d make this connection between past and present much more clear by making the final costumes historically accurate (or at least historically accurate to the extent that most productions go for) in a similar color palette to their everyday wear. this is kind of an inversion of what spring awakening tried to do when it was off-broadway / in previews on broadway, but hopefully less……bad?

i think in order to be effective, some spring awakening scenes need to be done a certain way and most productions don’t do them correctly.

the first of which is the beating scene. in most productions, wendla and melchior enjoy it too much. i think this needs to be the exact opposite. wendla is a young girl with no concept of bodily harm and this leads her into some much less than ideal situations throughout the show. in this scene, we need to see wendla’s regret as soon as the beating starts, and yet her stubbornness and naïveté prevails. for melchior, we have a young boy who doesn’t know what he’s doing, either. in the play, we find out one of melchior’s worst nightmares was a dream where he started punching his dog and couldn’t stop. while the musical doesn’t include this but it context, i still need to see that bit of backstory in a melchior. contrary to wendla, melchior’s regret begins to kick in more at the end. in this scene, their emotions directly foil each other. we need to actually be able to see that.

also while i adore otto and georg and their woyb reprise, i really don’t understand why it belongs to them and i think just the instrumentals itself should be a taunting reprise, or wendla can quietly sing it to herself as the scene fades to black.

the next vital scene is the hayloft scene. quick trigger warning here for discussions of rape here so feel free to skip to the next chunk of text if you don’t want to read that sort of thing! i also want to apologize if i misstep in my description of this scene in any way, and if i actually directed this, i’d like to talk to some survivors to see what would actually be an appropriate way to perform this scene in a nonromantic way. these are just my immediate thoughts with the scene presented.

in the text of the musical, the hayloft scene is heavily romanticized, but i still think with the right direction, it can be played as how it is in the play. in the play, it’s more clearly rape, and even though in the musical wendla says yes, i would like to emphasize the fact that wendla doesn’t know what she’s saying yes to. a very important point of emphasis of this should be the climax of i believe. as the rest of the ensemble comes to their final harmony, we should cut to a blackout and hear wendla scream in pain overtop of the music.

the vineyard scene needs to be performed much more tenderly and sensitively than written. i would ideally like to work with queer actors for this scene and ideally have hanschen and ernst’s connection be much more genuine.

i think it would also be neat if there was a big set piece that looked like a tree branch and this scene can take place sitting on top of it.

overall my ideas for spring awakening are a lot less cohesive than for alice by heart because i’ve been thinking about this for a longer time and therefore everything is all over the place and i have concepts in my head for literally three different productions of it i guess, but i think it would be so much fun to work on no matter which way i do it!