#in fact i have expanded my spoon collection

[crypticcowboys]

hi there, i absolutely love your writing! please may i request some general headcanons for mike x gn!reader where both he and the reader are autistic? i’m glad to see that someone else headcanons him as such :D i hope that’s not too vague!!

a/n: thank you for being my first ask :3! and ofc it's not too vague! this is going to be focused more on mike's traits and basically his interactions with you. this was also lowkey self indulgent. i actually really enjoyed writing this so i think i might make another one of these focusing just on him@))@ pairing: autistic/audhd!mike schmidt x autistic!gn!reader headcanons, also autistic abby (the entire family is autistic) warnings: brief mention of autistic meltdown, otherwise fluff. wc: 836 (i ran out of ideas.)

not proofread i wrote this while high

mike schmidt didn't find out that he was autistic until a lot later into his adult life-- only knowing that he had adhd. he always knew that abby was autistic, she had been diagnosed earlier into her life. but him? he never gave second thought to it. of course, he felt disconnected in a sense to the rest of the world. he was there, but he felt like nobody truly clicked nor resonated with him besides abby. of course, until he met you.

to say that mike was truly comfortable with you was an understatement. he didn't feel forced to make eye contact with you, and of course, ended up feeling comfortable enough with you to make full-on eye-contact... each and every time.

i feel like mike's love languages are definitely quality time and physical contact. he enjoys sitting in a room with you as a sort-of body double-- you two don't have to talk at all for him to have a good time with you. he enjoys being close to you, or being in a room with you, the both of you engaging in anything that you'd like. as for the physical touch part, he always needs to be connected with you in some way. in public, he's behind you, interlinking your arms or your hands together and giving you a soft squeeze. or when you're both in bed, and you two can actually fully hold eachother, this man needs pressure. he needs to feel like he's being pressed by a hydraulic press. either lay on-top of him or squeeze him from behind whilst he's the little spoon-he's in heaven.

mike definitely loves the sound of your voice. when you're talking he's pretty much giving you his full attention, even if he's not looking directly at you, or doing something else. he won't mind if you ramble about your special interest or your hyperfixation, he'll listen and ask you as many questions that pop into his mind. he's genuinely curious about what you're into!

as for mike's sPin/hyperfixations, i feel like one of the biggest hyperfixations he ever had as a child was pokemon. it's basic and mainstream, i know, but i feel like he especially took interest in card-collecting. i feel like he's a big collector in general-- he likes seeing physical groups of things that he either picks up or buys himself. he doesn't have much money to expand his collections now, but every once in a while he'll save up to expand them. i feel like he really enjoys miniature things-- like tiny things he can build. this may seem a bit childish to him and he'd never admit it-- but he likes calico critters because of the small objects. he can just never afford the sets. i feel like he also watches tiny cooking videos on his phone when he can't sleep.

mike's also a really big music enjoyer. i feel like he's always got his walkman on him-- several tapes. this man is a sade and jeff buckley enjoyer and you can't tell me any different.

despite the fact that he needs a job to support himself and abby-- mike is quick to burn out with work. he'll start off strong at first, and then later, everything down to the very air he could breathe in the place could just irritate him. besides all the stuff that happened at freddy's, it was... sort of a fresh breath of air, being his 'own boss.' no coworkers that couldn't understand the meaning of taking a break due to overstimulation to nag in his ear during rushes. not that rushes even really existed in the first place at freddy's. but for all his other jobs, he either got fired or outright quit less than 6 months of work because of his dull-minded managers. fast food was the worst-- he'd always encounter rude customers. he got a drink thrown at him, once, and he swore to never work fast food again. he does not back down on promises.

but whenever he does have burnout, or have a meltdown, mike instantly seeks you out first. he's clinging to you like a lifeline, feeling tears springing to his eyes whenever he's thinking about the amount of bills and fees he has to pay, or the chores he needs to do. he needs you to distract him from it all, he needs you to hold him tight and just distract him from everything. the burnout takes weeks to go away, but you and abby just make the experience so much smoother for him.

i feel like mike really enjoys going on road trips and long drives. no destination, just driving around with you and abby, making up dumb stories or you giving storytimes from your job that abby probably shouldn't be hearing, incase she starts picking up words like 'shit.' but she's already picked them up, honestly.

both you and abby are his lifelines. and the world wouldn't quite click if it weren't for you, especially.

[paint-lady]

🖊 + Maru!

Send me a “🖊+an OC“ and I will talk about that OC! It can be a headcanon, a fun fact, a small paragraph of backstory- anything! Alternatively, send in just a “🖊“ and I will talk about any one of my OCs at random!

Oh, Maru my beloved.

Maru "Maru-Maru" Maru is my character in Secret World Legends and my NPC (and eventual PC) for the Secret World ttrpg. They are the current OC im constantly rotating in my brain like a rotisserie chicken.

I had attempted to write a longer form comic for them and even finished a first chapter. Unfortunately, life got busy and started taking more spoons to other tasks and I am not able to dedicate the time and energy I want to the comic. And thats okay. In the year I have been cold, I have expanded upon the Maru-verse even further, and discovered even more interesting loops and details to incorporate. And I cannot wait to illustrate them one day.

So without further ado, please enjoy this extensive lore breakdown on Maru-Maru:

For your convenience this post has a keep reading <3

Name Significance: Of course Maru is not their given name. Its partially a joke, partially an echo of a long-lost memory, partially a misheard role to fulfill, and their first grasp on their identity.

The name Maru firstly comes from my Exalted Zenith character. My partner and I wanted to name our bees after them, as a way to honor the fun we had with such a short campaign. Little did we know how smoothly Exalted and SWL can blend together- the transition from one age to the next, apocalypses rising, and powerful beings beyond comprehension changing Creation. The tone is certainly different though: an Exalted chronicle is uplifting and with epic heroes to save the world, whereas SWL is riddled with uncertainty about how long the collective will of reality can hold.

The SWL version of Maru can barely remember their previous incarnation, it's more like a weird dream than anything else. If they look to closely, the memory vanishes; like the people of the Third Age trying to grasp their memory of the Second, and their predecessors before them. The golden light within them feels different, yet can still vanquish monsters with their touch, and aid people plagued by nightmares seeping through cracks in reality.

A more recent discovery has played nicely into my friends headcanons and names of their characters. SWL Maru was discovered by experienced agents of names Inanna and Ninshubur in Kingsmouth. While the name Maru is not a Sumerian/Assyrian deity, Mamu is. There is not a lot written about Mamu. They are most notable for being a god of dreams and having both male and female depictions. We love a lil gender fuckery in the pantheon. There was temple built in Imgur-Enlil (modern Balawat) to them. Dreams were not seen as depictions of the subconscious (thanks Freud) but rather true portents of the future. This is all over the epic of Gilgamesh as a literary device to keep that long ass story going. Regardless, the Assyrian King who had dreams of Inanna vanquishing his enemies felt the portents were significant enough to build that temple to the messenger: Mamu. Additionally, there are oodles of accounts of death-dreams and glimpses into other worlds (namely the Underworld) across several sites, whether its recorded dreams from priests and priestesses- or more Enki myths.

And this is what Maru does- even by accident. They catch glimpses into the other worlds, talk to other versions of themselves to relay messages and warnings, and make sure Inanna and Ninshubur are aware of whatever weird shit is out there. In the SWL ttrpg, I intend to have Maru explore this role to fulfill more, as a messenger and a dreamer. Funnily enough, the surname I gave Maru is 夢宮: Yumemiya, which can translate to Yume: dream, and Miya: a shrine, or place for gods. Don't you love it when the narrative falls into place like that? (But in truth, I borrowed the surname from Kanae Yumemiya, an actress who portrayed Usagi in a Sailor Moon Live production...)

Lastly on name significance, we have the japanese translation that Maru means ◯, and is literally a circle. Depending on the characters used to spell Maru, it can also mean truth, and expanded to mean a complete unending cycle. Putting two ◯◯ together is like censoring a name or word, similarly to how $#%&#! is used in English. In a way, Maru-Maru is saying their name is Redacted, or blankety blank or So-and-so. This was incredibly hilarious in the SWL game when QBL labels the player a terrorist after climbing Orochi Tower. Ah yes, you've definitely found the ringleader who set off the Tokyo bomb: It was ◯◯! Excellent journalism, QBL, no notes.

But in truth, its a clever and funny way to hide themself. Searching Maru on google is gonna get you a stardew valley villager and a cute, chubby cat youtube sensation. And they like it that way.

So whether it's Maru, Mamu, Redacted, ◯◯, or some other weird fifth thing, they'll always be that one odd baby bee who reaches across dimensions to keep reality running just a little longer. They won't have to face the end alone, in fact, its statistically improbable.

And if you survive. If you are still you. Think on the questions. Remember when you were a bright little thing, so full of questions?

THE LIFE CYCLE:

Time is a funny thing when dealing with several versions of the same individual. The smallest changes completely alter a course of events. Many Marus recall gaining their bee not long after the Tokyo Filth bomb around 2012, and being swept up by whichever agency got to them first. Many recall their parents working tirelessly at their jobs at the Orochi Group. They learned how to cook for themself at a young age because Mom and Dad wouldn't be home til late. Many recall the first time they heard the buzzing static was as young as 6, following the sweet whispers through a soon-to-be park and a newly planted flowering tree. There are a few that never receive a bee, or receive their power through other means. These timelines are the strangest ones.

A riddle to kill a sphinx: What's one, then three, and then one again? Wait- that's not how it goes...

The Lumie, Templar, and Dragon Maru all share the same origin. Depending on where an outsider glances, the three realities are so close, they are nearly one. Nearly. They grew up in Kaidan with their parents. They did attend the Orochi-sponsored schools and attended several programs, but flew right under the radar for "gifted abilities" that Orochi was seeking. Little Maru was aware of whispers in tv static, rattles in old pipes, the shrieks of summer cicadas Evangelion style. As a young child, they marched to the beat of their own drum, ignoring or indulging the whispered warnings as they saw fit. The dreams were harder to ignore, but when they told their parents about the big scary monsters that couldn't get out- it was written off as their overly active imagination. After all, they had failed an aptitude test to get into the nearby elementary school near their work. Its uncertain whether or not Maru's parents knew what that test was truly analyzing- and whether or not they were relieved to see they failed. Decent Orochi employees have excellent poker faces.

Sometimes one is born special. Sometimes specialness is genetically modified into one. Not every child is equal.

As they grew older, the supernatural continued to burrow into their eardrums. Maru was an average student, but occasionally received top marks on answers whispered to them. They earned a reputation for being a little bit of a tech whiz, and had an observant eye for finding errors in codes. Not really a "super power" but troubleshooting tech is an immensely useful skill. Maru was exceptional at the ol' percussive maintenance with old printers, punchcards, and fax machines. When things went to digital interfaces, Maru found the tried and true "have you tried turning it off and back on again," to be a real winner.

When they didn't want to hear the whispers, they'd make use of bulky, noise-cancelling headphones. Maru would often be seen wearing them outside of class and in their home, enjoying the peace and quiet. Maybe the headphones were a placebo. It only worked because they believed it worked. However, at night, their mind would be plagued with vivid dreams and even louder whispers and messages. Headphones can't keep hide the noise if its already in their head. Frustratingly, they'd always wake up and immediately forget what they dreamt. This was their normal. Caffeine to keep themself up during the day, wear headphones to keep out the messages, and TV to drown out the static at night.

And there wasn't really anyone to talk about it with. Last time some Orochi kid fessed up to their weird dreams and whispers, he'd definitely vanished. Teachers said the student moved away, but Maru knew his parents still worked in Faust upper management. Another girl said she could hear thoughts before you could finish thinking them. Maru thought that one was bullshit- but she disappeared too. Lesson learned. Keep the static to yourself.

Don't fear It. Fear Nothing. Fear the Foundation. It's no wonder; they say once you hit four, it's all downhill from here.

When it came time to apply for highschool, a few of their peers found this "Clubhouse" and despite its messaging, were blabbermouths about it. Maru always felt uneasy about the place. If there were whispers saying they had nothing to fear, they didn't trust it. They couldn't believe the claims that were coming from this place. Free drinks? Can play games as long as you want? You can be yourself without any fear? Maru especially didn't trust the last one. None of their classmates knew how they felt wearing the girls uniform. None of them knew how exhausting it was to shut out the whispers, keep the eyes on them sated with just the right expectations, and then complete their coursework on top of it all. Maru absolutely did not want to "perform" there either.

Upon finishing highschool, Maru was presented with an opportunity. They'd complete a university comp-sci degree and then immediately dive into a job at the company. Orochi is not devoid of nepotism. At first, this seemed ideal. They'd attend university in New York, and take their summer internships with the American branch of Orochi. Should everything go well, which... it was going to go well that was the expectation... they'd be looking at a substantial salary and generous benefits while working in the Tower.

America was loud. America is loud. But the sheer volume of everything drowned out the buzzing whispers. They still needed the headphones to drown out the rest of the noise though. They could focus a lot more on themself outside of the Orochi bubble, even if their presence was just a few streets away.

Maru figured out a lot about themself in the four years at Uni, especially the gender thing. They enjoyed building weird robots and programming them to do silly things- in addition to their assigned tasks. They enjoyed the few college parties they attended. They even had a steady, long term relationship with a classmate named Caesura (nods back to Exalted). As graduation loomed, they dreaded going back home. They realized how much time they spent alone and really did not want to go back to that solitude at Orochi. So they avoided it. They delayed their graduation by a year and a half by swapping majors, making absurd connections and promises with subdivisions of Faust and Anansi, and prolonging which classes they needed to graduate.

What was the cause of all this, sweetling? Where is the zero point?

Everything changed sometime in 2012. Maru couldn't get anyone on the phone back home when the bomb went off. Even the work lines in Faust were gunked up. They have zero clue if a letter they wrote made it through security and into Orochi's headquarters. Caesura had also vanished. (Unbeknownst at the time, the man was abducted by the Dragon. In most timelines, he does analog calculations for the faction, figuring out where pieces need to move rather than doing field work himself). And then they get their bee, freak out and wreck their apartment, get nabbed by one of the big three, and then get sent out to Kingsmouth.

Things start to break and differ sometime after this for our Red, Blue, and Green iterations of Maru. They all admit to being unaware of their prowess for chaos magic before meeting two other big bees: Ninshubur and Inanna. It was Ninshubur who gifted the confused baby bee a chaos focus, and Inanna gifted a them an empowering gadget. Receiving these items are one of the more prominent cracks on the flickering timelines on the Reality Engine.

Though the most prominent tears in their time are when the Dreamers made themselves known to Maru. The first, a gift. The second, worship. The third, freedom.

Templar!Maru, believes they were tricked by the gift. They swear they would have never have listened to the bubbling voices, but deep down they know that they fell for their sweet words. Whenever the Dreamers approached them, they were certain to make sure they'd never be fooled twice. Their choices are marked with unbound Blue wings.

Dragon!Maru had already begun developing their philosophy on the cyclic end of the world: however messy and destructive it was going to be, whatever was going to rise out of the ashes was going to be just as magnificent. Decay is a form of life. They morbidly want to see what the world will look like at the end, but have to be strong enough to make it there. Accepting the gift, begrudgingly worshipping, and freeing the Dreaming Ones is all part of their dream. Their wings drip with filth. Unease sits in their stomach, they do not know if they'll get their wish.

Lastly, Lumie!Maru was keen on not listening to more voices in their heads. They are the only iteration to refuse the gift. Their wings gleam gold. What is done cannot be undone, and they loathe that their defiance to one set of voices is obedience to another.

Go ahead, glance back. Don't sweat it, sweetling. You won't turn to salt and you can't make yourself impossible. History will conserve itself. The continuities will hold.

Again, time is funny when dealing with several iterations of the same individual. The slightest changes make immense impacts on their lives. There are Maru's who graduated on time. There are Maru's who never left Kaidan. These individuals work with Orochi, whether they want to or not. There are Maru's who's last memory is the filth exploding from within that guy's jacket. There are Maru's still sleeping. There are Maru's who joined the Council of Venice, there are Maru's who hacked the Swarm's game back, and fled their factions. There are Maru's who want nothing to do with the secret world and just want a peaceful goddamn life with their wife and accounting job. There's a Maru who is just really into boats...

But they are all connected, tethered to one another. Like a rat king on reality, fated to meet and tangle.

FUN and STRANGE DETAILS:

BLOODY VALENTINES: Uta, the rabbit killer in Kaidan, is three separate individuals who used to inhabit the same body. Lilith is responsible for splitting her like a worm and separating the sibling souls into new bodies. Maru is an anomaly: they are physical duplicates of the same individual existing simultaneously. Both Maru and Uta fight with unprecedented coordination, switching aggro and balancing their buffs between the three of them. The showdown at the top of Orochi tower was certainly a spectacle... And a vocabulary lesson for swears in several languages. Some agents have noticed the similarities between Maru and Uta, but Maru is quick to squash any speculations. This is not because the two actually know each other, but more Maru does not want anyone to know their Orochi background if they can help it.

The buzzing on Uta reveals some interesting clues about Maru and their existence. Uta was not plagued with insanity but rather hypersanity for the new age- and with new software there are bound to be bugs. While Maru didn't absorb their twin in the womb or was misdiagnosed with schizophrenia; Maru was also sensitive to whispers just outside reality. And so were other children born around the same time. Maybe Maru and that generation of kids got the patched version.

A LUCID DREAM: The Black Signal, or John, tells the Chuck's who will listen that he's no longer singular, he is plural- but remembers what it was like being a sole individual. To Maru, this is so old news. In fact, Maru loves to snark back at him saying that he is not special and they're plural too. There are many Maru's. The Black Signal doesn't really tend to listen to this. Maru may be many, but Maru is still meat. If they would hatch, then they'd have a new conversation. Again, Maru disregards this, and says they've spent enough time being an egg.

They don't want to think too hard about what it means to have "hatched." They know John's not talking about them being nonbinary. Maru is an adept and experienced enough chaos user at this point to recognize when a timeline is too different for them to safely pull on. There's a phantom pain in their outreached hands and fingers when they try to go too far. They are aware that there are some selves they used to be able to call upon and cannot anymore. Something about them has changed. They are aware they can become "out of sync" with their doppelgangers or even be "out of phase," and get stuck somewhere overlapping two or more timelines. But to not be able to call themself at all is terrifying. If only they had the ability to glance at all it all from the outside ... oh.

At least, Maru can't do this consciously. Some versions of Maru have swapped places with their doppelgangers in their sleep or had rude awakenings of being pried from bed to be used as a meat-shield for another. While dreaming, they can go anywhere- so long as they don't forget how to wake up. These ones don't know how close they get to bleeding out of reality.

MAKE THE RIGHT CHOICES:

In my SWL playthrough, I of course ran into a whole bunch of bugs and glitches. And I love them. But, there were times that it made the game do absolutely weird things- which provides some very fun stories to weave into the glitch. The most notable was at the Second Choice in the City of the Sun God. At this point, my partner had played ahead and was almost through Translylvania when I had finally defeated Aten. He knew there was an Ultimate Move behind the choices and spoiled a little (with my permission). I didn't know what "Blue Wings" meant but I understood to get them I would need to, against my better judgement, listen to the Dreamer's at least once. So after defeating Aten and being greeted by the Filth bird saying "hey you should do the worship emote" I then obliged and typed /worship.

And the game crashed. No worries- this happened all the time for me. My laptop would get obscenely hot running this game and would shut itself down so it wouldn't fry itself. Upon reloading, I had to do the Aten fight again but found myself having trouble with some of the UI interface. Reloadui did not solve the issue, and I found myself in front of the Filth bird again. I typed /worship and Maru did nothing. I opened the emote tab, and clicked, and Maru would do nothing. In fact, all of my emotes were not functioning- except the dances.

I laughed as I watched Maru dance and devour tacos in front of the Dreamer, not knowing how frustrating it must have been for the cosmic entity to watch some small, nascent angelic thought just proceed to do anything but what it requested. How much longer? Out of frustration, I eventually attacked the creature, triggering the next cutscene. The Dreamer's were angry, and I laughed and laughed.

Now the strangest thing is in game play, Maru sometimes has golden wings. I have had friends say they see blue wings and I will see gold on my screen. I've also had the opposite. In all cutscenes, they are blue. Considering the overlapping timelines, it seems like Lumie!Maru's almost choice bleeds through onto their timeline sometimes.

INITIATE THE D20 SYSTEM:

I have been very fortunate to be the storyteller for some very avid fans of the Secret World and have presented an alternative timeline to the world they know and love. Maru of course, is no exception to this. Everyone is operating with different times and circumstances. Eventually, I will get the chance to play Maru in the game. But for now, Maru has only made one appearance: to Olivia, the newest bee of the group. Of course, Olivia has zero idea what implications she has encountered by merely interacting with this version of Maru, untethered to their doppelgangers. The TTRPG timeline is indeed one of the strangest.

Thank you for reading this absurdly long OC lore post, I have spent easily 3 week writing and editing and rewriting and adding. I hope you enjoyed and it sparks some fun thoughts about SWL and maybe a lil Exalted. As a treat.

[cockatrice-writers-guild]

Grandchild

Warnings: implied death, light swearing

There was a small cottage a little ways from the town that sat right on the edge of a cliff overlooking the sea. An accident waiting to happen if you asked me but I digress. In that little structural nightmare lived a rather curious old woman. This wasn’t to say she behaved oddly or anything. At first glance, she was rather ordinary, really. Plain. Her routine was a simple one; of watering plants and going on walks. Eating the same food day after day at the bar in town. Staring out at the sea for hours on end. In fact, almost everything about her was unremarkable.

Almost. For every once in a while, as she ate her usual lunch of fish porridge, shakily bringing the spoon to her lips, she would talk about her granddaughter. A wonderful girl by the sound of it; she’d visit her grandmother every so often, bringing with her strange gifts from foreign lands. Apparently embracing her every time she arrived without fail. Few things brought the woman more joy that a recent visit from her dear grandchild.

(I know all this because in her senile old age, I was assigned to take care of her. Just check up on her every now and then. See how she’s doing. Assist her if needed. As if I didn’t have enough on my plate already.)

See, there was but a single damning piece of evidence that left the picture incomplete. The old crone never married. She had no children and she certainly had no grandchildren. I would have written it off as her just seeing things in her old age but the gifts her so called grandchild left her were as real as anything, strange as they were. A small collection of colourful rocks. A necklace made entirely of pearls in shades I’d never thought pearls could be. Once when checking up on her, I found that an entire new section had been added to her garden, with multitudes of flowers I’d never in all my years of hunting seen before. Flowers that seemed to move even when there was no breeze. Flowers with an almost ethereal beauty to them. Flowers I swear glowed in the dark.

But surely such a thing was just a trick of the light. Just the high of a recent kill. I was just tired. Just used to the ocean breeze. It had been a particularity scorching day when I heard what sounded like song coming from the ocean. I just hadn’t had anything to drink yet. It was just heatstroke. The fact that I’d never seen this kid was merely a coincidence. The claw marks I’d spotted at the edge of the cliff surely just a failed attempt to further expand the garden.

The thing is, in my line of work you saw a lot of things. Some say most new hunters can’t find it in themselves to sleep after experiencing for themselves the horrors the world truly had to offer. I can attest for that. But deep down, those flowers, that woman, that grandchild…unsettled me like nothing else.

-

I needed some time off. Chief said it was for the best. After witnessing such a thing, she’d admitted, even she would have needed some time to get into a better a headspace. And I’d done all I could have. I needed to remember that. Even brought down the beast in the end. I should’ve been proud, really. After all, it’s not just anyone who can take down one of the merfolk. I’d saved hundreds of lives if not more.

I didn’t sleep that night.

A few days passed before I couldn’t take it anymore. I needed to do something. Anything to keep my mind off what had happened. Being along with my thoughts was a proper hell in its own right. …surely that old bat needed assistance. When she found out what had happened, she came over and talked to me for a while, bringing with her some simple broth from the inn, her usual dinner. She’d sat there and refused to leave until every last drop was gone. Said nobody should have to go through something like that. That her granddaughter had heard about what happened and offered her condolences. That if I ever needed someone to talk to…

Surely, I reasoned as I washed my face and pulled some fresh clothes from my closet, surely she wouldn’t mind an earlier that usual visit. She was hopeless without me, after all. It was my duty to check up on her, really. I pulled on a leather coat and my usual boots. My hat. I placed my hand on the doorknob and readied myself to finally go outside but…

That damn grandchild…  

I needed my crossbow. Heaven forbid I shoot an old woman’s imaginary daughter. I would never do such a thing in my life. Never. It was just a precaution, is all. The world was a dangerous place and the woods between the town and that decrepit little cottage could be full of nasty creatures waiting for their next meal.

Just a precaution.

I pulled it from it’s spot on the wall, wiped off the thin layer of dust that had formed and strapped it across my back, checking to make sure I had a few arrows as well. Maybe I could go hunting after checking up on her. To clear my head. Cook up something with the meat and share it if I accidently made too much.

The day was sunny and cloudless. Blindingly so. The market loud as ever. Cheerful birdsong filled my ears as I walked. I reached the woods faster than expected. Pixies raced each other through the air and a jackalope eyed me warily as I passed, probably knowing a weapon when it saw one. I gave the creature a respectful nod before continuing on my way.

It was obvious long before I reached the clearing that something was wrong.

Specifically, it was the noise. A sound that easily carried through the air, low and melodious and familiar. Full of clicks and notes and what sounded like almost human vocals. Beautiful and haunting and without a shadow of a doubt the song of a mer.

I found my crossbow in my hands, already loaded by the time I made it to the other side of the trees.

The sight alone made my blood freeze.

The thing was massive. By far one of the biggest merfolk I’d ever seen, it’s humanoid top half easily towering over the small cottage. It’s skin was black as pitch and shone unnaturally in the sun. Huge milky white eyes hid partially behind long slimy seaweed-like hair. Needle-like teeth, each one at least as tall as the average man, took up nearly half of it’s monstrous face. It’s fingers ended in jagged claws and in the beasts clutches stood the old woman, her back turned to me. The mers’ head was bowed to her and even as I stood there, she embraced the beasts’ face and it made another series of clicks and notes so loud it made my head swim.

I couldn’t make sense of it.

None at all.

I aimed the loaded bow at the beast’s forehead almost automatically. How long would it take to bring down a creature of this size? I had only brought a few arrows with me. Would one arrow buy enough time to bring the old lady to safety?

Before either question could be answered, however, the beast seemed to sense my presence. The full weight of its’ pale eyes landed on me and I flinched, in spite of myself. It let out what must have been a warning growl, a noise that sounded as if one of those horridly loud steam bellowing contraptions the inventor nearby seemed so hell bent on making had fallen into the water while it was still running. The old woman noticed the sudden change in the beast’s mood and turned around. Her eyes widened as she caught sight of the weapon. Of me.

This couldn’t be real.

I was frozen. Forced to watch as she turned to the monster and seemed to murmur to it. Forced to watch as the beast slowly inclined its’ massive head as if, to some extent, it understood what she was saying. Forced to watch as, with what seemed like the upmost care, the mer’s claws wrapped around the old woman’s comparably tiny frame and placed her on the ground. As she walked towards me slowly, cautiously, as if afraid to startle me. Of what I might do. As she placed a weathered hand on my crossbow, which was now aimed right at her chest, and forced the weapon down. As I let her. She pulled me into a tight hug. I let her do that as well.

I hadn’t realized how fast my breathing had gotten.

The mer didn’t make any move towards us, simply watching silently. It was wearing a necklace too, I realized after a moment. One strung with old pieces of wood and small marble statues and huge shells. A matching set.

The old woman kept me in her clutches until I had stopped shaking, stroking my back all the while. And finally, I found my voice.

“W-what is-,” I started.

The old woman simply hushed me gently before I could finish. Inclined her head at the mer behind her. “My granddaughter,” she said simply before taking one of my rigid hands and pulling me forward, towards her cottage.

“We…have a lot to talk about, dear.”

[peacehopeandrats]

Can we get number 2 for the prompts? And maybe 15? Do you do them together?

OOH. I hadn't thought of doing two in one. That might be a good challenge for when I've done all of them individually first, since they will run out before the month is up. This would have been a good word to put with a picture, but also a little too easy, so I'll come back to noun and picture together when I've finished the others. Someone remind me if I forget!

"What are you reading about this time?" The Dark One stomped into the library and narrowed his eyes at Belle.

She flicked her gaze up to study him, hoping he wouldn't notice. "Desert horses, if you must know."

"Are they something different from regular ones?" His voice was more distant now, muffled, and Belle decided it was probably safe enough to take in the whole room. Rumplestiltskin was still there, back turned to her. It looked as if he were studying the spines of the books he faced, posture one of a man in deep thought and concentration.

For a moment she thought he was completely uninterested in what she had to say and was only making small talk while he sought out whatever he needed. Then she realized that none of the books where he was standing could be of any use to him for potions or spellcasting. The entire wall, floor to ceiling, contained her fiction collection, which was ever expanding. Why had the Dark One come all the way up here to poke at stories he'd never found entertaining before?

Deciding to test him, Belle arranged herself so that she could see his reflection in the spoon she'd set down next to her tea cup. The shape of him was distorted and blurry, but it was easy enough to tell if he was moving. Lowering her head back to her book, she gave a shrug. "The breed is different," she told him. "The shape of the head and body... But that isn't why I'm reading it."

"Oh?" No movement from the spoon.

"The desert is what interests me," she told him.

His reflection turned then, but only slightly. "Yes, of course. You and your desire for adventure."

"There's just something magical about discovering a new land, even when I'm sitting here in front of the fire."

"But that's the catch, isn't it? You haven't gone anywhere." The Dark One's voice was almost thoughtful. Belle heard a book slide out of place and then be put back again, but had no way of knowing if he'd actually chosen it or was simply creating something for himself to do by moving things around.

"I feel like I've gone somewhere," she said, pointing at one of the paragraphs on the page. "It describes everything here. The heat, the dry sand, the buildings with their great courtyards, surrounded by mountains."

Now the Dark One did turn around. "Sounds like Agrabah," he huffed before stabbing a finger in her direction. "I can take you there with the snap of my fingers." He demonstrated with a click, though nothing around them changed. "And yet you would still want to sift through all those words?"

Belle swooned at the idea of visiting a place like the one she was reading about. She imagined watching the horses race through the desert and feeling the sun on her face as she moved between the mud brick buildings of the tiny village in her book. "Oh, I'd be just as happy to go, but it wouldn't be the same. There's something wonderful about being able to imagine what it would be like."

Another snort and the Dark One was on his way back toward the staircase leading out of her library.

"Did you need something?" Now Belle looked him right in the eye, smiling at the fact that she'd caught him in the act of not acquiring anything at all. At his confusion she nodded toward his empty hands. "It looked like you came up here for something."

"Forgot I'd left it in my study," Rumplestiltskin told her before stomping away.

Belle felt her face flush a little and turned back to her book. "I'm sure you did," she whispered to herself.

[tinyrebeldinosaur]

Responsible For A Food Delivery Whatsfordinner.Ie Budget? 12 Top Notch Ways To Spend Your Money

When it involves cooking, it is necessary to bear in mind that every person started someplace. I do not know of a bachelor who was born with a wooden cooking spoon and also prepared to go. There is a great deal of learning that have to be performed in order to come to be a prolific cook and then there is always space for improvement. Not just do you require to begin with the basics when it comes to food preparation but you practically require to begin again when discovering to cook a brand-new food such as Chinese, Thai, or Indian food.

10 Undeniable Reasons People Love Best Restaurants In Kilkenny

This means that at any type of given time in your cooking learning cycles there is fairly most likely someone someplace that is far better and/or even worse at food preparation than you. Take heart from this since even the most effective have poor days when it involves food preparation. There are many individuals that cook for various reasons. Some chef in order to eat as well as survive while others prepare due to the fact that they in fact enjoy the process of cooking. Some chef during times of psychological upheaval and also others cook out of sheer monotony. Whatever your factor for food preparation or finding out to cook you must constantly begin with the basics.

The first thing that you require to discover is what the various terms you will find in dishes actually indicates. There are several brand-new and also occasionally international sounding terms that you will certainly discover in common dishes. These terms can mean the difference in dish success or failing. You must have the ability to find a good area in any inclusive recipe book that clarifies the various interpretations for unknown terminology. If you aren't absolutely particular what is implied by "folding in the eggs" it remains in your benefits to look it up.

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One more great little bit of guidance when it pertains to cooking basics is to attempt less complex recipes for some time and afterwards expand your perspectives to the extra intricate dishes that abound. The majority of recipes will certainly have a little note concerning their degree of trouble and also you can check out the recipe to see whether or not it is something you want preparing or positive that you can prepare. Keep in mind Rome had not been built in a day and it will certainly take quite a long time to build a reliable 'collection' of dishes to work into your meal planning rotation.

The good news is that when you have actually discovered the fundamentals of food preparation it is not likely that you will certainly ever before require to relearn them. This indicates that you can constantly build up and also broaden your cooking abilities. As you find out brand-new dishes and also enhance your culinary skills as well as talents you will certainly uncover that preparing your own meals from square one is a lot more rewarding than preparing packaged meals that are purchased from the racks of your neighborhood supermarkets.

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You will certainly additionally find as your experience as well as self-confidence grows that you will find yourself increasingly more typically improvising as you go and changing dishes to fulfill your personal choices. If you like basically of active ingredients or want to make a dish a little bit basically spicy in flavor you can make easy adjustments along the way in order to accomplish this goal. In other words you will certainly begin in time to create dishes of your extremely own. Which is something you won't always learn when it pertains to standard cooking skills for newbies but you would never ever discover if you didn't grasp those standard cooking abilities.

Cooking Indian Food in the house - Where to Start?

If you review my article, Curry - A Journey, released on the Curry page of this site, you'll know that my very first experiences of the meal were of the common variety which the British usually cooked as well as consumed when living abroad a couple of decades ago. You'll also recognize whatsfordinner Affordable dining that I then found "genuine" Indian culinary as well as made a decision that as I could not manage to eat in restaurants that a lot, I needed to learn how to cook the stuff myself.

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My very first quit after that, was a neighborhood bookshop, where the choice of publications on Indian culinary was somewhat limited. Nonetheless, I struck lucky and uncovered a publication called Indian Cookery by Madhur Jaffrey - what a locate. Written in straightforward language yet with wonderful descriptive message and recommendations on what to serve with what, it was just what I had been looking for.

There was an impediment, nevertheless, which was the countless checklist of flavors, flavorings and also flavourings in the front of the book. I really did not understand where to start - I would certainly become aware of fairly a lot of them, having actually enjoyed a few TELEVISION programs on Indian cooking however, "assistance" I thought, "buying that lots of at one time is going to cost a fortune". If you're thinking the very same, do not panic. Sign in your shop cabinet. You probably currently have several of the items you will certainly require. For instance, look for black peppercorns, bay leaves, chilli powder (if you're already a fan of chilli con carne), ground ginger, nutmeg, cloves and cinnamon if you cook cakes or apple pies. Maybe you'll discover mustard seeds if you do your own pickling and sesame seeds if you make rolls or cook Chinese food. That just leaves a few basic active ingredients which show up in a great deal of Indian dishes - cumin, coriander, turmeric as well as cardamom. Usually you need ground cumin as well as coriander yet if you buy the whole spices, you can grind them as required (as well as they maintain longer in this way also).

The Ugly Truth About Where Vegetarian Restaurant Kilkenny Whatsfordinner Employees

The other point I did was to pick a fairly easy recipe to begin with and I simply acquired the seasonings I needed for that. The next time I wish to prepare an Indian meal, I selected another dish with similar components so I needed to just get a pair extra things. Quickly enough I developed an entire shop cupboard of the things I required and it didn't have had such a drastic impact on my budget.

Then there was no stopping me - I also understand some dishes by heart currently as well as you can do the same if you intend to.

You do not need unique devices for Indian cookery, although I would not be without my electrical coffee grinder (to grind seasonings) and it's nice (however not required) to have the standard recipes to serve your dish in. Other than that, you require a little bit of patience and it's enjoyable to cook with a buddy to ensure that you can share the cutting as well as grinding or have a person reviewed the recipe bent on you step by step so you don't go wrong between.

The flavours are terrific, a curry night is actually friendly, so go on, give it a try.

N

A

P

[subbing-for-clones]

The Alpha and The Omega Part 1

Alpha!Maul x Omega!Reader     

Word Count: 4.5k

Summary: A Jedi Padawan prepares for her trials to become a knight but learns something new about herself that leads to her having to leave the order. With a fear of the large galaxy and a new, unexpected companion she has to learn to live with herself and how to survive an unforgiving environment.

WARNINGS: fear, going into heat (no sex), nudity. A/B/O dynamics

A/N: Maul is not actually in this chapter. He shows up in the next just so everyone is aware. This chapter establishes what my version of an alpha and omega are. No y/n

NEXT         MASTERLIST

       You had never been so hungry in your life. Master Plo Koon, Master Qui Gon Jinn and your fellow padawan Obi Wan all watched you in various levels of amazement and bewilderment as you worked on your third helping of whatever kind of stew the cafeteria had prepared. Your master however, was chuckling under his de-oxygenator.

“Are you alright little one?” Qui Gon asked with a brow quirked. If you paid attention, you’d have guessed he was more impressed than his horrified padawan at the immense amount of food you were consuming. You couldn’t pause between each spoonful long enough to answer him so your master spoke.

“For the last few days, she’s been utterly insatiable.”

“Are you quite sure you don’t have a parasite or something?” Obi Wan asked with a concerned frown. Your only response was shooting him a glaring look before continuing to eat ravenously. Clearing your bowl, you stood and went to drop off your empty dish with the rest of the dirty dishes followed by your friend.

“I am starting to become concerned for my padawan. At first I assumed that the rise in her nerves were caused by her upcoming trials for her knighthood but I’m not so sure.”

“What else is going on with her?” Qui Gon eyed you as you left the cafeteria followed by Obi Wan, no doubt to continue your studies.

“She’s always struggled with controlling some of her stronger emotions but she has made immense improvements over the years under my tutelage. However, the last few days it almost seems like she’s reverted back. She’s not outward with them in the least but I can sense them through our bond. She’s incredibly quick to anger and sadness specifically.”

Qui Gon furrowed his brows and sat pensively for a moment before asking, “you don’t think she could be pregnant, do you?”

“No, that’s not an option. She hasn’t left the temple in months except for her training mission on Hoth and it was just the two of us. Over the last few months, she has been fervently preparing for her trials bouncing back and forth between the archives, the meditation gardens and sparing with various willing masters. Even if she did find the time, with how emotional she’s been I would’ve sensed something but I don’t think she even has any idea what’s going on.”

“Let me know if there’s anything I can do to help. I’ve always liked her and appreciated her friendship with my padawan. Have the healers take a look at her if you can convince her to let them.”

“Yes, that might be a good idea.”

      You had in fact spent the remainder of the evening in the archives with your long-time friend Obi Wan attempting to study while dodging his various inquiries to your condition. At the end of the night, you fought the urge to slam the doors behind you while you urged him for the hundredth time that you were fine. Walking back to your sparse room in the living quarters you realized that you were in fact not fine. You had never felt anything but safe living here at the temple, surrounded by your peers and masters. Now though, a sense of dread formed in the pit of your stomach. You hadn’t the slightest clue as to why. Yes, your trials were approaching in the following months but you felt completely prepared for them.

    Your skin felt hot under your robes and the second you entered your private quarters you stripped out of them, hopping through a quick cold shower. It only granted you a temporary relief and by the time you left the ‘fresher you were burning up and feeling way too exposed, even within the confines of your small room. You watched your hands pull the mattress off of its rails and onto the floor. Gathering up all of your spare blankets and robes you had, you bunched up a makeshift perimeter along the edges before climbing into the center and curling up, not bothering to dress before-hand.

    Rest did not come to you that night. You woke frequently in cold shakes and waves of fear despite your best efforts to push them away, panic always on the edges of your mind and intense cramping in your abdomen.

      The following morning when you had not come down for your first meal Master Plo reached out to you through the force, when he sensed your terror, he practically ran back to the living quarters, banging on your door. When you only answered with chocked whimpers, he unlocked the door with the force and drew his lightsaber. His initial worry was sated momentarily finding that you were alone but was quickly replaced when he saw the state you were it.

    You lay in the center of your clumsily made ‘nest’ naked and covered in a thin sheet of sweat shivering violently. The only sounds that left you were terrified, incoherent mumbles, eyes widened in alarm.

“M- master… help me. I -… I don’t know what.. what’s happening,” you sobbed.

Plo removed his large brown cloak and quickly covered you with it. When you were properly concealed, he lifted you in his arms and rushed to the healers. Utterly confused by your state.

       Hours of examinations and blood tests did nothing to sate your unease but did well to expand it. You had begged your master to stay by your side, clutching onto the one person you felt remotely safe around. He only left when one of the healers came to your bedside and beckoned him away with a worried look in her eye. It took several attempts to assure you that he would be right back, utter panic setting in once again once he left but you could feel the waves of tranquility he sent you through the force.

“What do her blood reports show?” he asked with his arms crossed.

“Well master that’s where it gets kind of tricky. She seems to be exhibiting symptoms of a heat cycle.”

“But, humans don’t go through heat cycles. Wait, do they?” Plo asked.

“No, they don’t. I tested her for exposure to various strains of the sex pollen but they all came up negative. To ease her pain, I gave her a dose of a common suppressant that some of our resident Jedi use to help their own cycles but it didn’t take. That led me to perform a genome test.”

“And did you find anything?”

“Yes, she has the Omega gene.”

“Oh… Oh. Well, that is, unfortunate...”

“She’s terrified and feeling exposed. I wanted to tell you first so you could decide if she should hear it from you or me. She seems to feel safest with you.”

Plo thought for a moment, “I think I should tell her.”

 “What the fuck is an Omega gene?!” you were still shaking, trying to fight off the arousal that had taken root in your belly that swirled with your fright.

“It is an uncommon genome; its sole purpose is to ensure survival of a species. Most commonly men develop the Alpha and women the Omega although there are records of it being the other way around. Almost every species in the galaxy has at least a few Alphas and Omegas.”

“And the suppressants didn’t work because..?”

“Because it is stronger than a common heat cycle. It is a mutation that developed not just to ensure frequent breeding but survival of a species on a grand scale.”

You broke out into uncontrollable sobs; when your master tried to soothe you with a touch to your shoulder you jumped and growled at him, surprising you both before falling back into your distress.

      Over the following weeks you could feel the change in your peers’ attitude towards you. They would snicker if you passed by and taunt you silently behind your back. You could feel the unease the masters felt when you came into close proximity. Even Master Qui Gon was hesitant around you. You did however still have Obi Wan. Still the loyal friend he had always been.

    It took more searching than you thought but with his help you were able to find information cataloged by only one author.

“Did you really build a nest?” he asked, void of any judgement, looking over your shoulder at the writings.

“Yes, I did,” you said without taking your eyes off of the tome. “It says here that its genetic and pops up every few generations…”

“Your birth mother probably had no idea.”

“No, I don’t suppose she did. It says here I have scent glands? On my neck, my wrists, between my breasts and on my hips..” Obi wan leaned in and gave you an undignified sniff, you smacked him away.

“I can’t smell anything, just that minty shampoo you like so much.”

“That’s because you’re not an Alpha bantha brains,” you flustered.

“You don’t need to be rude about it,” he chuckled, “I’m just trying to lighten the mood here. You’ve been so sad since you found out. What, your heat will come once every few months right? It can’t be that bad.”

“It really is terrible; you have no idea. It’s not even the heat that I’m worried about.”

“Well, what has you so worked up then?”

“It says here that being an Omega is dangerous, the Alphas are often times violent and that they can smell me long before they see me… I’m safe here at the temple but what if they kick me out of the Order?”

“You’re not going to be kicked out.”

“I very well could be!” you pushed yourself out from behind the desk and huffed, “being a Jedi means no attachments, be one with the force, calm and collected, rational and compassionate. I am none of those things when the heat comes and no suppressants can stop it. What if it’s enough to pull me to the dark side? What if the council decides I am too big of a risk to everyone here to keep me around? Needs of the many always outweigh the needs of the few.”

      Sure enough, it was less than a week before the council called you to stand before them. The room was silent, the faces that painted the members was grave. You could tell that whatever decision they came to was a long argued one. It was the look on your Master’s face that made a sadness ring through your heart.

“Do you know why we called you here?” Master Windu asked.

You inhaled deeply and sighed, “I think I have an idea..”

“Please understand padawan that if we had known you were an Omega, we wouldn’t have recruited you to the Order. We simply can’t have an Omega or an Alpha within our ranks.”

“I…I think I understand Master.”

“Understand how you feel, we do.” The Grandmaster said with a grave tone and a nod.

“Forgive me Master but, no, you don’t. With reason or not, I have had my birth family cast me out into your care because I was force sensitive and now, my second family does the same because of a gene I carry.” Your eyes flashed angrily. Abandoned again because of what you were. “I will gather my things and be gone before nightfall,” you turned on your heel and strode out of the council chambers, leaving the heavy sighs behind you as you fought tears.

    When you finally reached your quarters the dam broke. Fat tears and wailing sobs poured out of you while your heart bled. Fear, pain, self-disgust all swirling in your mind. You had no idea what you were going to do, where you were going to go. You barely heard the knock against your door while you tried to wipe the salty wetness from your eyes. When you composed yourself as much as you could you opened the door to your Master and Obi Wan, both looking solemn.

“May we come it?” your master asked. Standing aside you allowed them entrance. “I voted no. I don’t think the council is making the right choice in this matter.”

“Thank you Master but the result is the same, with all due respect,” you pushed past him and starting shoving your sparse belongings into a travel bag pausing only when your friend stood in your way.

“I-I’m going to miss you..” he looked down at his feet.

“Oh Obi,” fresh tears wet your lashes. “I’m going to miss you to,” you pulled him into a tight hug. “I know you still have a few more years before your trials but; you’re going to make a wonderful knight.” His only response was to hug you tighter.

“The council has allocated a small fund for you young one. Because of the nature of your departure and the fact that you never broke the code or did anything wrong…” Master Plo held out a large purse filled with credits, “I hope it’s enough to get you settled somewhere until you can find something to do..” you took the purse and wrapped your arms around your Master’s waist.

    Thanking him silently for everything. For raising you, teaching you everything you knew and again for advocating for you. You gathered your one personal item aside from your clothes, a holo-pic Obi Wan had taken of you and your Master standing on a cliff overlooking the water on Naboo. At the time he said he took it because you looked like a knight with your straight back and hands clasped behind your back, mirroring Plo perfectly. You thought him silly at the time but now; you felt grateful.

      Months later you found yourself waitressing in a dirty little cantina on one of the lower levels of the city. The credits given to you were enough to pay for a dingy little studio apartment and the owner of the cantina owed Qui Gon a favor for some reason. Giving you a job made them even. You were drifting through your new life. Every night you would show up in your too tight, too short uniform and serve various drunkards and bounty hunters. Every morning you would stumble your way back to your new home utterly exhausted. When your heat hit your boss was understanding enough to give you time off so you could cry and feel the terrible pain and loneliness in peace.

    A few days after your last heat, the third one you had ever experienced; you were back to work. It was a pretty slow night. The atmosphere was surprisingly calm in the run-down little bar. You heard the door creak open while you were in the kitchen grabbing an order for a young starry eyed Rodian obviously new to the city. You looked around the kitchen smelling something strange, something incredibly strong, smokey and musky. It only got stronger when you dropped off the plate. Your eyes met the new customer’s, a lone Duro looked up at you from under the lip of a worn wide brimmed hat. A smile grew across his face as you approached cautiously.

“Hey there little lady. Where’s your Alpha?”

    A serious trepidation squeezed your insides as you realized exactly what it was you were smelling. The man in front of you was an Alpha. There was no doubt about it, if he could smell you, it was true. Your feet moved faster than your brain and carried you out of the bar, ignoring your boss’s bellowing. You pounded into the duracrete until you reached your little room. Opening the door as quickly as you could with trembling fingers you slunk into a shadowy corner. Tears pricked in the corners of your eyes as the cool night breeze drifted through the window.

    Window. As soon as you thought the thought his scent flowed through it, he followed right behind, slinging his lithe body through the opening. Standing silhouetted in the flickering streetlights, you backed up until you hit the door. His long leather trench coat fluttered around his calves. You could hardly process how he lifted his palms up to you and tried to calm you down.

“What in the seven hells’ the matter with you ‘mega?” you lifted your hand and force pulled your light saber into your grasp and ignited the blue blade.

“Whoa whoa whoa there little lady. Calm down I’m not gonna hurt you.. been a while since I seen another one a us. Outside Corellia at least.” His voice was smooth with a rasp to it, his eyes glowed bright red in the low lighting, your saber casting a blue glow over the room.

“Never seen a Jedi ‘mega before,” he started.

“I’m no longer a Jedi,” you spat. It was the first thing you could say to the Alpha before you.

“You gotta calm down girl. I told you I’m not gonna hurt you,” he was inching closer to you.

“What do you want with me?” you tightened your grip and clenched your teeth, causing him to halt again on the stained floor.

“Where’s your Alpha? I can’t smell him.”

“You’re the first one I’ve met.”

“Listen I wanna help. Obviously if you’re here the Jedi gave you the boot. I’m gonna go out on a limb here, they found out when the suppressors didn work on ya.”

You sheathed your blade and lowered your head in sorrow.

“How long you been on your own?”

“A few months,” you looked up and wished you were back in the temple. You missed the gardens, you missed the archives, you missed your friend.. The Duro eyed you carefully like he could read your history just from your face before he scrunched his eyes up in confusion.

“Diddn they even tell you shit or did they just give you a pat and ‘good luck’?”

Your lack of a response was response enough; he sighed and muttered curses under his breath.

“Listen, most of us Alphas aren’t dangerous. We’re leaders, protectors. Omegas aren’t weak, you’re our second in command so to speak.” Your eyes widened at him. “I wanna help you.. I kinda feel like I have to. My mate would’ve if she was still around…” his eyes dimmed, “some of the Alphas can be shitty but it’s the others you gotta worry about. Slavers like buying your kind up and sellin em to the highest bidder. Sometimes they got a paid Alpha to sniff you out, some of em got hounds that can pick out your scent. If you stay here, you’re sittin pretty an ripe for their pickin.”

“What happened to your Omega?” your voice was quiet and cautious. You didn’t know if you could trust him or not but if he found you, others would be able to soon too.

“Trandoshans… I was off on a hunt; left her at home. Thought it was too dangerous for her to come with… I tried to find her, looked everywhere, called in every favor, went broke on bribes… never found her.”

Some primal, instinctual part of your heart broke for him. You had no idea what it was like to have a mate but you thought you’d rather die than lose yours and the look on his face confirmed that, he would too.

“Look, take it or not but this is me reaching my hand out. Tryin to make sure that what happened to her, doesn’t happen to you. Bounty huntings lucrative if you nab the right contracts. I can get you set up… the moving around ‘s safer than sitting still.”

    You thought for a few minutes, pondering the information this man dumped on you all at once. Your Jedi brain told you not to trust him; that this guy was bad news, but you weren’t a Jedi anymore. They were the reason you were sitting here trying to decide if you could trust him or not. So, you listened to your Omega gut and it told you to go with him; and that’s what you did.

      You spent a year with Cad Bane and if you were being honest, it was the best year of your life. He introduced you to the Bounty Hunters Guild by the name ‘Mega. Told you if they found out you were a former Jedi you wouldn’t get contracts so you went with it. There was even a whole house of the guild that was dedicated to Alphas and Omegas a secret little society that you had been welcomed into. He taught you how to use a blaster, damn well too. Your light saber was a hidden last resort to use only if you were about to be killed and you left no survivors. The two of you galivanted across the galaxy bringing in dangerous, high paying bounties.

    He taught you about the sub culture of the Alphas and the Omegas and helped explain some of the odd tendencies you showed but didn’t understand. He was respectful during your heat and let you wait it out locked in the cabin while he slept in the cockpit. Occasionally you’d ask him to put a hand on the back of your neck to cool you down. His cold-blooded hands were the perfect ice pack for your fevered skin.

    Not once did he ever try to scent you. To say he was friendly though would’ve been a lie. You had a companionable silence most of the time. You could count the times you made him smile on one hand. Most of which were when you got extra rough with a difficult quarry. The only other time was when some guy tried to hit on you in a cantina while you and Bane celebrated the largest reward you had ever gotten. You pressed the barrel of your blaster into his balls so hard, without even looking at him, he cried. Life was… good. Life was actually good. After the costs of resupply and fuel he gave you half of whatever was left over.

    That’s how you got to where you were now. On Corellia in a ship yard looking to buy your own transport. Bane had introduced you to the Guild Master on this planet, long having gained membership with him as a sponsor and you got yourself a few of your own pucks. He stood beside you now as you tossed the credits to the seller and loaded up your new; well new to you, ship.

“Better than my first ship that’s for damn sure,” Bane said as he walked around it. It wasn’t large, it wasn’t small either, but it had a kitchenette, a cabin and a carbon-freezing chamber in the small cargo bay below deck. “That freezers gonna let you pick up a few bounties at a time,” he noted, leaning against the doorframe of the cabin, watching you put away your clothes and setting up the holo-pic of you and Plo by the large bed.    

“That’s the plan. Move around as much as possible. Get rich on these dumbasses,” you moved to toss the pucks into your bag.

“Listen ‘Meg,” he straightened up, clenched his jaw and looked at the floor, “it was shitty goin for me for a long time. It’s gonna get shitty again and stay that way for the rest of my life but; well, you made it less shitty,” he was visibly uncomfortable.

“Don’t go getting all warm blooded on me now Bane,” you shot him a sad smile. You had to move on. He wasn’t your Alpha and you weren’t his Omega. You didn’t really think you would find a mate of your own but you could feel it through the force; as much as you relieved some of his stress, you made him miss his mate.

“Don’t get your hopes up sweetheart, I like you but not that much,” he smirked, “you got my commlink channel set up in there right?” his thumb pointed to the cockpit.

“Yeah I got it.”

“Don’t hesitate if you get in over your head kid. I mean it ‘Meg, don’t be so proud you go and get yourself killed.”

“I won’t, I promise Bane.”

“Good,” he walked over to you and for a second you thought he was actually going to hug you; what he did was a bigger shock. He took his hat off and placed it on your head. Your eyes widened to saucers and you looked at him almost confused. A grin cracked your lips when he pulled a new, bigger one out of no where and shrugged his shoulders.

“I like this one better anyway,” he turned to leave the hull but not before rasping out a “see you around ‘Meg, give em all seven hells out there,” over his shoulder.

You made your way to the cockpit, pulling Bane’s hat down tighter on your head and running your finger across the brim; watching him leave the shipyard through the view port with one last swish of his coat. You were sad to watch that gun slinging bastard go but thanked the maker he found you, thanked the maker that you followed him that night.

    You ran through your preflight checklist and started her up ‘The Wolf.’ You liked the way it sounded. Pulling up into the atmosphere and punching in the coordinates for Lothal, the highest priced bounty in your current collection. You pulled back the lever, shooting you into hyperspace. You made your way back to your cabin and picked up the holo-pic of you and your master. You wondered what he was doing right now. If he had taken in a new padawan. You hoped he had; he was a wonderful master; the best you could’ve asked for. You wondered if he thought about you as much as you thought about him. You smiled, probably. He always had trouble not forming attachments. You set the picture back down and pulled another one out of your bag. You had tried to keep it a secret from Bane but you were sure he knew about it.

    It was from the night you almost took off the nuts of the guy who tried flirting with you. You had bought a round for everyone in the small cantina out of your own pocket, you were so excited about taking down the biggest quarry the two of you had seen to date. Several beings of different species all raised a glass of various liquors in your honor while Bane faced the bar not looking at you, the smallest smirk on his face below the rim of the hat you were wearing now. The smile you had on in this picture might be the biggest you’ve ever made. You set it down next to the one of you and Plo and compared the two, hardly believing you were the same person. You weren’t, but they were both you.

    You kicked your boots off and plopped down on the bed, arms crossed behind your head and the hat tilted over your eyes. This was it; this was living.

[voleurdesoleil-archive]

The things you feel inside

Fandom: Haikyuu!

Characters: Ushijima Wakatoshi, Bokuto Koutarou

Word count: 1.7k

A/N: this was a gift for my pe, and I didn't plan on posting it here but I'm really proud of it so here you go

read on ao3

-Wasn't the captain's reunion supposed to be today?

-It is.

-Then why are you still on your phone?

Ushijima stares at Tendou's text, he doesn't know what to answer. He’d like to tell him that it’s because he’s not here with him, but Ushijima knows he can’t say that, it wouldn’t be fair to his husband. He knows Tendou would be capable of giving up his store and buying a plane ticket if he sent that, so he keeps it for himself and lies. He tells him the other captains went out to order food when Kuroo is actually in the kitchen, on the phone with some fast food place, ordering for all of them, while the others are playing video games with Kenma.

"Hey!"

Ushijima lifts his head from his phone as Bokuto flops himself next to him on the couch.

"You're quieter than usual, are you okay?" Bokuto asks, concern seeping through his voice.

He's not. He wants to say it out loud, but Ushijima knows that if he does, it will only result in more questions and he isn't ready to open up. Not yet.

So, when Ushijima's answer doesn't come, Bokuto adds: "You know I'm here if you need to talk. "

Ushijima nods. They aren't close but ever since they met Bokuto always made sure all of them felt at ease or that no one was feeling left out during their meetings. People often seem to mistake MSBY's ace for someone careless or egotistical, but Bokuto has proven on multiple occasions that he is someone with great empathy who cares deeply for people he loves and Ushijima really admires him for it.

Ushijima's attention is drawn away as his phone lights up with another text from Tendou.

"How's Tendou doing?" Bokuto asks as Ushijima types a reply to his husband. "I saw him in a food magazine the other day. He looked super cool with his chef's hat and all!"

"He is doing great. His chocolaterie has been getting a lot of success thanks to social media. He says people really like his "vibe", although I'm not quite sure what he means by that. And-" Ushijima starts rummaging through his photos, until he finds pictures of Vabo-chan and other volleyball related figurines that he shows Bokuto. "-he's been trying to create a volleyball collection, but his colleagues aren't really up for it."

"Wow man! They're awesome! You should put them in the groupchat, the guys would love them!"

Ushijima nods as he gets another text from Tendou telling him he's going to open the shop soon and urging him to have fun.

"You miss him, don't you?"

"I do…"

"Must be hard. I'm lucky that all my partners live around here, but Kuroo and Kenma often have to go away for work and I miss them a lot when they do. So I can't imagine how hard it must be to be so far away from Tendou…"

Ushijima doesn't quite know what to answer to that so he stays silent as his heart clenches a bit tighter in his chest. Bokuto's deduction is correct. Of course it's hard being away from Tendou, harder than what he thought actually.

When Tendou left after high school it was only supposed to be for a couple of years - he had gotten an internship with a renowned pâtissier, he couldn’t let the opportunity go away, so he took it - and he did come back after that. They lived together for a few years, bought their first house together. They even got married.

But last year Tendou decided he wanted to have his own chocolaterie in France, so Ushijima let him go. It was only for a few years, until Tendou could expand and open a chocolaterie in Japan too. They had done it already, so Ushijima thought it would be easy. But this time it was different. Harder. Simply because they had shared a home.

They had learned to live together, to appreciate each other's company. They had cared for the other when he fell sick. They had prepared the other's favorite meal just because they wanted to surprise him. They got used to coming back to the other after a long day at work or after practice. Ushijima got used to trying Tendou's new recipes just like Tendou got used to seeing Ushijima bring home plants on the verge of death to revive them. They got used to each other's quirks and routine.

So it is hard. Coming back home to an empty house. Not having to open the windows because of a funky smell coming from the kitchen. Waking up in an empty bed. Not being able to touch each other. Saying he misses Tendou terribly would be an understatement.

And what's not helping is the fact that he hasn't seen Daichi in a while either. Because in addition to missing his husband, he now also misses his boyfriend.

Until this morning, he thought that he would finally be able to see him but that was only when Kuroo wished Daichi a happy anniversary that Ushijima remembered his boyfriend wouldn't be here tonight as he was taking Sugawara and Asahi out to dinner for their anniversary.

"Do you want to cuddle?"

"What?" Ushijima blinks, thinking he misunderstood.

"I know it's coming out of nowhere, but Daichi said you're a pretty cuddly person and I thought, maybe, it would make you feel a little better, but if you're not comfortable I totally get that, I mean we don't really know each other that well. I just wanna help and you do look like you give the best cuddles…did I say that? Sorry I'm rambling. "

Trying to hide his embarrassment, Bokuto lifts his arms to rub the back of his neck and gives him a sheepish smile, causing Ushijima to let out a chuckle.

He takes a moment to consider the idea. He indeed has been craving physical affection, so Bokuto’s offer sounds appealing. On the other hand, although Ushijima loves to cuddle, it takes him a while to get comfortable enough around someone to even just consider cuddling with them and, as MSBY’s ace stated it, they’re aren’t really close. So Ushijima doesn’t exactly know why he answers:

"I would love that Bokuto"

"For real?"

"If you didn't change your mind, yes."

Bokuto almost throws himself on Ushijima but stops midway. "Wait, how do you want to do this?"

"I don't know?"

"Okay, first maybe we should- can you stand up for a sec?" Ushijima does as he is told and watches as Bokuto folds out the sofa bed to make more room for them. MSBY's ace then runs out of the room to come back carrying way more pillows than they need. "We'll be a little more comfortable like that." Bokuto says before letting himself fall in the mountain of pillows.

Ushijima pushes aside a few of them to make space for himself beside Bokuto. They stay still for a while, facing each other. Ushijima isn't particularly uncomfortable but Tendou often is the one who initiates their cuddling session and while Ushijima has been working on being the one to initiate them with Daichi he still hasn't fully worked out how to.

Bokuto must sense Ushijima's hesitation because he opens his arms and softly says: "You can lay on me for starters, or maybe you'd be more comfortable spooning, you tell me."

Ushijima takes in Bokuto's reassuring smile, which reminds him of Daichi's the first time they cuddled together - they have that same gentle smile that instantly puts you at ease - and finally dares getting closer to him. He hesitantly drapes an arm across his waist and checks on Bokuto's expression to make sure he's comfortable with this before laying his head on his chest. Bokuto's arms instinctively find their place around him.

"Would you like me to play with your hair?"

"Please…" The word comes out of Ushijima's mouth as barely more than a whisper.

This is awkward at first but, as Bokuto slowly runs his fingers through Ushijima's hair, brushing aside the stray hair lying about his forehead, his whole body relaxes and he makes himself more comfortable in Bokuto's arms.

The ace's embrace is tight around him but offers just the right amount of give, so that Ushijima can escape if he ever feels the need to. His own hold on the ace's waist becomes less stiff and Bokuto shifts slightly so that their bodies fit together more naturally. Their legs tangle together and a faint smile makes its way on Ushijima's lips.

He remembers the first time he and Tendou cuddled. They weren't together yet at the time and, just like today, Ushijima had been getting overwhelmed with his feelings. He remembers how grounding and soothing Tendou's feathering touch had been at the time. How all the stress he had accumulated had melted away when, with a simple touch, Tendou's brightness enveloped him. And right now, subject to Bokuto's touch, this is exactly how he feels.

Almost as a way to prove him how vulnerable he is, Ushijima's breath catches in his throat as Bokuto's thumb starts rubbing up and down the small of his back. Daichi once mentioned that one particular detail about cuddling with Bokuto and Ushijima now understands what he meant when he said that felt heavenly as that small movement sends shivers down his spine.

"Is this okay?" Bokuto asks.

Ushijima nods against his chest and mumbles a soft "yes" as his breathing catches up with Bokuto's.

Ushijima hears the door open behind him but he doesn't look back to see who has entered the room. Whistling fills the room and Ushijima has a hunch Oikawa is the one who entered the room. Bokuto's hand leaves his hair and he intimates to the other captain to stay quiet before combing through Ushijima's hair again.

When they're alone again, he brings MSBY's ace a little closer and, basking in Bokuto's warmth, Ushijima closes his eyes for a second and the ambient noise slowly fades until all he can hear is the steady rhythm of Bokuto's heartbeat. He feels safe.

___

Later that night, Ushijima is on the bus back home when he gets a text from Bokuto.

It's a picture of them both, asleep, cuddled up on the couch.

-Kuroo took it

-Look how adorable we are!

Ushijima can't help a smile to grow on his face. He's so glad they're friends.

[the-crows-typist]

riddle and floyd ficlet please! doesn’t need to be romantic. the word is “spoon”!

The Possibilities Are Endless

“The rules are meant to be broken.”

CW: potential OOC and discussion of medicine

“That’s not the right way to use a spoon, Floyd.”

Octanivelle and Heartslabyul had gotten closer, its students growing connection between each other and forming bonds of friendship and friendly camaraderie. One could say that the two dorm were alike, very goal oriented and hardworking, very cunning and observant.  While Riddle was happy for this growth, there was a part of him that loathed the fact that he had to spend time with some less than savory company.

“Eh? It makes cake easier to eat!”

Floyd Leech was an enigma, an unknown, an annoying unknown to be exact. There was never a time Floyd and he were running after each other nor was there any time that Floyd would leave him be, it was nothing but chaos around him.

“It still isn’t right.”

Riddle was very uptight no matter what the situation may be and no matter how plain or how extravagant the event was. To Floyd, Riddle was too serious, too angry. He was his polar opposite and boy, was it fun to see what buttons can be pushed to see that normally calm and collect face heat up and turn the brightest of reds, like the goldfishes he needed to often get rid of. “Does it really matter, goldfishy? I’m still gonna eat it anyway.” Floyd took a spoonful of cake and shoved it into his mouth, letting out a hum of satisfaction at the sweet taste.

“Sea turtle’s cakes are always so good! We should have added him as an employee a long time ago.”

“Such slovenly manners.” The dorm leader muttered under his breath, bringing the teacup to his lips to drink his tea with brows furrowed in frustration. Eating with one’s mouth full was an incredibly big no-no and Riddle felt annoyance bubble in the pit of his stomach. There were stains on Floyd’s cheeks and the spoon, a soup spoon, was used as means of picking out the cake. That goes against every rule taught in etiquette! Riddle couldn’t stand it.

“I’m glad you like it.” Trey jumped in, letting Riddle calm himself and breathe. “Though I appreciate the gesture, I might be accused of moonlighting if my family found out I was working for someone else.” He was always so patient no matter who he was dealing with, Riddle guessed it was because he had siblings to take care of. “Eh? I’m sure your family will understand if you needed money for school.”

“I’m fine, really.”

“Boo…Boring!”

Jade raised his plate to Trey with a pleasant smile. “Seconds, please.”

“Azul, you can eat my share. I don’t want it anymore.”

“Finish it yourself. I already ate my share.”

Floyd never liked to be held down, he hated the feeling of walls around him. He hated the way rules would hold him back and he absolutely hated those who tried to enforce it to ruin all his fun. Riddle Rosehearts was exactly that, he was uptight and brash, he was a goody two shoes and by-the-book. Floyd relished in seeing that face heat up, it was gratifying to go against someone like Riddle.

“Don’t run in the halls.”  He would say to him. “It’s improper.”

“You don’t know how to have fun don’t ya, Goldfishy?”

His words were harsh and blunt that not even someone like Riddle is immune by them. Riddle was silent and his shoulder hunched defensive. “The halls are not a place to do that, if you want to run then use the school’s field.” Floyd stuck out his tongue and ran away. “The field is boring!”

“Hey, I just told you—! Agh, what’s the point?!” Riddle stomped off, muttering about how there was no getting through to Floyd otherwise.

Floyd hated authority; he wanted to run as he pleased whenever he wanted to and where he wanted to. To be held down like a beast was like torture to him, like the weight of the shackles once put on his wrists.

Tea parties were not an uncommon thing between dorms, Azul knew that but to have the opportunity to have one with Riddle was quite rare. “It is only right that I expand on the relationships of our dorm, Azul. Knowing you, you would be quick to take advantage of that.”

Jade and Trey stood beside each other and pouring their respective dorm leader a cup of tea. “Indeed, Riddle. When an opportunity presents itself, I take what I can get my hands on.” Azul sips his cup of tea. “Rest assured that this is nothing short of a pleasant visit, we just want to see Heartslabyul for what it is since you’ve been running it since your first year as well as further tightening the bonds of our members.”

“I must say, they’re like a well oiled machine.” Jade commented, Riddle took his cup of tea specifically brewed by Trey. It’s not that he doesn’t trust Jade’s tea making skills but that Trey’s skills were enough for him. “It is to be expected of Riddle that he runs such a flawless system.”

Riddle set down his cup with a small huff. “I am only doing what is right to further the teachings of the Queen of Hearts.” He looks to the two visitors with a practiced neutral face. “I don’t see the need to praise responsibility. The rules were put into place to ensure that that a group thrives under discipline, without it there will be chaos.”

“It seems you have to take a page off his book, Azul.”

“Now, now Jade. No need for the pleasantries to be aimed at me.”

Floyd huffed, sitting improperly on the chairs; this talk was boring and dumb and he just wanted to eat something to take his mind off this. The group let out a hum or approval when Trey set down a cake in front of them. White cream, the smell of vanilla, the accenting fruits glazed with water and sugar. It looked wonderful. Trey was a good baker and there was no doubt about it. “The offer still stands, Trey. You’re always welcome aboard the Monstro Lounge any time you feel like coming.” Azul tactfully slid his cake to Jade. “I’m sure that your cakes will reach bigger audiences through us.”

“I’m flattered, really I am, but I’d rather stay here. If my dorm enjoys what I make then that’s good enough for me.” Trey sets begins cutting the cake and handing it over to different people with the last being Riddle. “Besides, I’m sure a certain somebody will miss my cooking while I’m away and I can’t let that happen.”

Riddle sipped on his tea, eyes closed and posture poised. “I have no idea what you’re talking about.”

“Oh, it’s not you Riddle.”

The two laughed among themselves all so prim and proper, Floyd didn’t like it.

“Sea turtle and goldfishy have been friends since childhood, right?” Floyd said, a few grains of chocolate stuck on his face. “Woah, that’s amazing. You lasted that long with goldfishy.” Trey smiled at him as he poured another cup of tea while Jade helped himself to another piece. Riddle’s fingers shook for a moment but that soon calmed. Aww, he thought to himself, he didn’t react.

“That’s right; it was like us and Azul but a little less consistent. We did lose track of him at the start of middle school.”

“Yeah, he was always hiding in that pot of his. I didn’t know he was in there until I saw his pop out.” Azul grimaced at Riddle. “I nearly threw some seaweed in it too.”

“Yes, I remember that very well.”

Riddle set aside his used plates. “Floyd, elbows off the table.”

“Huh? Oh—.” Floyd pulled away from the table, Jade coming to him with some tissue paper and wiping his face as if he were a child. “I’d appreciate it if you would learn some manners for this kind of event, Floyd. Your slovenly ways don’t do well with it.” Riddle commented as he pat his lips with a napkin.

“Aw, come on Goldfishy don’t be like that. This is just a small tea party.” He said with a tone on edge, leaning towards Riddle to wrap his arm around his neck.

“I told you to stop calling me that.” Riddle slapped the hand away with a huff.

“Why not? It’s a cute name.” He brought a spoon to his mouth, a soup spoon with lots of cake.

“It doesn’t matter if it’s cute. It’s not my name, respect that.  And the proper utensil for eating cake is a fork. You’re not supposed to eat it with a spoon.”

“I’ll eat the way I want to. You’re just too prim and proper to try it out.”

“Settle down, you two. That’s enough.” Jade and Trey pulled the two away from each other. “Why are you always like this, Floyd?” Riddle demanded, his snarl was large and hand set down harshly on the table making the plates jump in place. “I’ve done nothing to you and you treat me like this! You’re uncouth, you’re rude! You’re everything the rules go against!”

“Huh?” The aura around him changed, the glare in his eyes was dangerous and his voice husky and low. “What did you say to me?”

“Floyd.” Jade stressed his voice, brows furrowed while Azul held his arm.

“What about you, huh?” Floyd shrugged off Azul in annoyance. “You’re always about rules and it’s no fun.” He pointed a finger at Riddle accusingly.

“I only enforce the rules because I’m supposed to. Without it, this dorm would be in chaos!”

Floyd scoffed eyes now slits and anger pushing through his veins in a fury of hot blood. “I’d rather see place in chaos than some stuck-up system being run by somebody like you. You wanna know why you overblotted that day?” Riddle’s eyes widened and his shoulders squared, his brows furrowed and lips tightened. Trey took to his side, arm out to protect Riddle and stop Floyd from coming any further.

“If you’re not allowed to have fun then no one’s allowed to. You got jealous cuz’ people stepped out of line and you couldn’t. If you can’t have it then nobody can. That’s what you are, goldfishy,” his finger pointed at Riddle.

“You’re just a jealous, small, stuck-up goldfish.”

There was panting, Riddle’s body shaking and eyes blown out in anger. His face didn’t heat up nor did he point his scepter at them. Instead, tears had begun to form in his eyes. Ones that were threatening to fall any moment.

“Get out.”

“Riddle,” Azul tried to reach over to the other dorm leader but was only met with the business end of the Heartslabyul’s scepter. “I said get out! I will not tolerate this kind of behavior. Take your things and get out!”

Azul sighed, standing up after and fixed his hat nodding to the two to follow him out.

“We’re having a talk later, Floyd.”  

“Whatever.”

Riddle relaxed into his chair, leaning back against the plush cushions with hands over his eyes and soon his façade began to crack, his lips trembled and his teeth were bared, his shoulder shook and his voice was no longer controlled.

The overblot was still fresh in his mind, the days spent trying to gain back his dorm’s trust, the talks he had with the woman who raised him to be this way, and the times he question himself and his magic while holding his pen close.

Trey knelt down, bringing him close to a hug. “Come here.” He looked to the path the trio had used to exit the dorm and then back to Riddle. “It’s okay.” He stroked the red hair with his fingers, his lips pressing a kiss to his head.

“It’s okay. It’s over now.”

“Deuce, what is all this?”

“Well…”

“Riddle, wanna eat some lunch together?”

“Ah—I suppose I have some time to spare.”

“They have some nice sweet bread you might like too!”

The two never crossed paths after that day, Floyd never once approached Riddle once after the small insult throwing match they had during the disastrous tea party. It was probably because of the fact that the group that followed Riddle, his friends, were always by his side and not once leaving him alone.

Floyd had been given a stern talking after the party, Azul putting his foot down on his behavior suddenly growing a heart. “I don’t need to list off the reasons why I’m upset with you, Floyd,” He said, arms folded and eyes in an angry expression. “This is the closest our dorms have ever been in years and I am not willing to let this connection go to waste just because you and Heartslabyul’s dorm leader can’t get along.”

“You two are different, I understand that.” Jade said, his arms folding in place and eyes closed as if in thought. He was equally as upset but he knew how to hide it. He and Trey had begun a friendship of sorts after spending time in the botanical gardens and he feared that Floyd’s constant teasing would put a foot in the mutualism like friendship he had formed. “But what you did was out line and uncalled for.”

Jade’s patted his brother’s arm. “I know you’re frustrated, I don’t need to strain my eyes to see it. You hate people like Riddle…” He looked down, thinking about his words carefully. “But Riddle is not like those people.”

There was a smile; Jade’s comforting smile and he pat his brother’s arm again. “You’re smart enough to know what I mean but while you contemplate what I said, I suggest you cool off. Azul and I will take the shift this afternoon. I’m sure some students are free to take your slot.”

Azul adjusted his hat and nodded his head. “I’ll go ahead and make some calls.”

“Come on, you can’t stay in the library forever.” Cater pulled at Riddle’s wrists while Ace pushed him from behind. “Yeah, no wonder you’re so tiny.” There was a small growl and the twitching hairs that made up Riddle’s signature heart-like hairstyle. “W-what I mean is that lunch time is a time to eat, not study. You can do that during study hall.” The younger first year backtracked at the sign of danger and Deuce as well as Trey couldn’t help but let out a small bout of laughter.

“At least let me walk on my own.”

“Nope. You’ll just run off to the library again!”

“Honestly…”

Floyd watched him basically get pulled into the cafeteria by his group, his friends, and his eyes saw something he never got to see when they were together. Riddle’s smile.

“You hate people like Riddle…But Riddle is not like those people.”

“You’re smart enough to know what I mean.”

He never once doubted Jade’s observations, Floyd knew better than to doubt his brother but those words caused a rift in him so much that he didn’t see the basketball flying towards him while his teammates yelled and screamed “Look out!” Floyd fell onto his back, his forehead sore and red. It was Jamil who pulled him up from the ground.

“Fucking hell,” The eel cursed. “That hurt.”

He was brought to the benches and Vargas inspected it with a huff. “What wrong, Leech?” He asked, putting his hands on his waist and expression serious. “You’re out of your element.” Floyd didn’t answer and only looked away with a huff. The swelling of his cheek was large and Vargas knew it needed medical attention. “Viper, Trappola, bring him to the infirmary.”

“Thank you for your help, both of you.” Said the nurse with a smile disarming and kind, “We’ll take it from here, the both of you can go back to class now,” The two students nodded and said their goodbyes and ‘see you later’s’ to their fellow team mate.

“Ace?” Riddle’s familiar voice was soft against the hum of the ceiling fans that swirled air within the large room. “What are you doing here?” The dorm leader asked, clearly concerned. “Did you get hurt?”

“Floyd got hit pretty bad during practice so we brought him here. What about you?”

“Just the normal check-up. You know…”

“Ah, right. I’ll leave you to it, then. See you later, Dorm Leader Riddle!”

“Take care.” While Jamil and Ace walked away, Riddle continued walking in. There was a pause when Floyd and he met, the same sense of dread he saw in his eyes appeared in an instant but this didn’t spike the thrill he’d feel when he had the upper hand instead an awkward pit formed in his stomach and his senses seem to be aware of everything around him.

“Mr Rosehearts, right on time. Have a seat and I’ll be with you soon.”

“…Thank you.”

Riddle sat on one of the chairs behind Floyd, looking down and playing with his pen. The bright red crystal still slightly dirtied with ink blots, Riddle was still recovering after the incident in his dorm. While he was still able to stand on both feet, his pen said otherwise about his ability to produce magic. The ink blots were a reminder of what it felt like pushing himself beyond the limit of what was acceptable.

It was quite embarrassing to think but if it weren’t for the instigation of those four juniors of his he wouldn’t have noticed the bars of the cage he was staying in or many years that he put a leesh on himself, a limiter to what he can and can’t do.

If it weren’t for those four, he wouldn’t have been free for a very long time. Perhaps, he wouldn’t be free at all.

“Ah, I ran out of medical pads.” Said the nurse, pulling back after swabbing Floyd’s cheek with a special numbing brew and some cream for the sore skin, they smiled at the two students sheepishly. “I’ll go get some from the storage, you two stay put. I’ll be right back.” The nurse left and soon, the two of them were alone in the silent room.

The ceiling fans were loud in his ears and sounds of the field busy with activity reached their ears like whispers. Riddle closed his eyes and sighing in a way to calm himself down. Floyd had always annoyed him but the small argument they had was what cemented the growing fear that had been growing in him.

He, like many other students before and after him, was scared of the Leech brothers.        

“What are you here for?” Floyd asked, breaking the silence between them.

“Medicine and check-up.”

“For what?”

“My blot.”

Even during the elementary school, Floyd had been taught that using too much magic is bad and can cause an overblot which was even worse but as he grew older, he learned that it wasn’t only magic that contributed to the overblot but emotional fatigue thus there was a simplified point he stuck with: the bigger the fatigue plus the more magic used equaled to a very big overblot. While he knew treatment for it existed, he had yet to see firsthand.

But what baffled him was that the blot took a few days or weeks at best for it to subside. And yet here Riddle was, his pen still dirtied with ink and needing to take medicine. Was Riddle’s blot that serious? “I didn’t know blot needed medicine.”

Riddle set down his pen, eyes still down on his lap. “They only give medicine to those who have had a bad case of it.”

“Like you?” Floyd asked suddenly, his eyes angled to look to the boy behind him, one that stayed silent for a minute. “Yes,” he admitted. “Like me.”

The chair creaked as Floyd moved to sit the wrong way on the chair. Both of his arms resting on the backrest and his chin snug between them. His eyes drooped but held no malice but a form of curiosity.

“Why?”

It was a question Riddle couldn’t answer immediately. Why was he a bad case? Perhaps it was the amount of magic he used in one sitting? It was a factor of it, yes, but there was another underlying factor that led to his blot being bad, so bad that he needed to undergo medical intervention. During his mother’s numerous lessons, he was taught that the heart of a mage is the real powerhouse of magic, it is what differentiates one’s magic to the next and it the origin of one’s unique magic. While it was a very powerful tool, it was also one of the most sensitive. Emotions can greatly affect how a mage’s magic manifests and his overblot in the Heartslabyul garden was a manifestation of what could happen to a mage when the heart goes out of control.

Years of resentment and fear, of anxiety and jealousy, and all the other emotions he couldn’t think of at that moment piled up and had been pushed down for so long only for it to gush out of him like a broken faucet and unleashing all the pent up feelings he’d been storing for the years he’s been alive.

“Because my case is serious.” Was his only answer and Floyd had seemed satisfied by that.

“For someone who says a lot of stuff about others, you don’t say a lot when you’re talking about yourself.” Floyd commented, leaning on his good cheek while the other still stung. “It’s pretty ironic.” Riddle smiled, laughing to himself. It was different to see it for himself, in fact, there wasn’t a time that Floyd could remember seeing him smile at all. Before the overblot, that is.

“It is, isn’t it?”

“You know what I think?”

Riddle’s face then morphed to one of confusion and curiosity. “What?”

“You hate people like Riddle…But Riddle is not like those people.” Jade’s words echoed in his mind as he carefully put his thoughts to words. “You were taught to love the rules. You don’t follow them because you want to, it’s because you have to.” He began and he saw there was no trace of discomfort so he continued. “I don’t know what you’ve been through but it seems to be that it would have been real bad for you if you broke one even if there was no punishment for it.”

“There are.” Riddle chimed in,

“I know but it’s not that bad once you get used to it.”

Floyd looked to the pen on Riddle’s side. “It must have been tough.” Was his final comment on the matter and Riddle took the said pen into his hand with a sigh. At the moment, remembering his mother running towards him and screaming his name. For all the years he had been with her that was probably the only time he really saw his mother for what she was, overprotective and far too concerned.

There was no excusing how she raised him, there was no excusing what damage had been done to him but looking back on it Riddle began to understand why she was like that. He knew parents can’t be perfect; they are just as damaged and just as flawed as any other person was but there was a fine line between what was acceptable and what wasn’t for a parent to do for their child.

So, Floyd was right. It was tough.

“It was.”

Another bout of silence passed before Riddle laughed again. “What are you, some psychoanalyst?” There was a teasing tone Floyd had never heard coming from him and that was enough to keep the ball rolling between them. “I can be. Wanna see me predict the future with your star sign?”

“That’s astrology, Floyd.”

“I foresee that you’ll be treating me to a meat bun from Sam’s shop!”

“I am not going to do that. You have your own allowance.”

“Eh? But it tastes better when people buy it for you.”

“I am not buying you a meat bun.”

The two laughed among each other before Floyd chimed in again.

“It’s not too late, y’know?”

It was a statement that confused Riddle initially. “What do you mean?”

“You can always start breaking the rules now if you’d like. I don’t expect a goody like you to get right off the bat, though.”

He saw the way Riddle’s eyes widened at the mere idea of breaking the rules and he couldn’t help but smile at the way he thought about it. He thought back to Jade’s conversation with him and couldn’t help but chuckle to himself, he couldn’t wait to tell Jade about the day Riddle finally breaks a rule.

“I’ll think about it.”

“Eh? Why not now?? We can skip class.”

“I’m not doing that!”

“Octanivelle’s purples and Heartslabyul’s red do have a nice accent to one another, don’t you think?” Another tea party had been planned right after Floyd had fully recovered from his sports injury and this time with a few changes to the décor, a break away from the white table clothes and red roses. “Indeed,” Riddle said as he brought a tea cup to his lips to sip at the tea that Trey had prepared.

“I had to take a few of your students aside to study the fabric and to see if we had some in storage.” There was a smile against his cup. “Luckily my students have perfected the color changing spell.”

Jade chuckled, his finger against his own lips. “As always, with Riddle as the dorm head, Heartslabyul is a well oiled machine.” Setting his cup down, Riddle smiles at his classmate, “I am only doing what is best for my dorm. That is all.”

Trey set down the cake by slice, giving it to each person at the table. Floyd and he exchanged looks and reach over for the utensils. At that moment, Jade, Azul and Trey watched as the two ate their cakes with their spoons. It was a confusing time for the trio, one even thinking he was dreaming.

“Hm, I suppose eating it with a spoon is easier.”

Floyd giggled, leaning back on his chair. “Right? The bigger the spoon, the bigger piece of cake you can eat!”

“That’s quite sinful, honestly.”

Trey chuckled, scratching his head in confusion.

“What in the world happened to the both of you?”

Riddle’s pen sat against his coat pocket, the medication in the other. The ink blots fizzling out little by little and he too, little by little, began living the way he wanted to.

[wisteria-lodge]

Character Analysis: Sorting The Old Guard

@sortinghatchats has a brilliant personality/character analysis system based on the four Hogwarts houses. At this point it’s become much more interesting and nuanced, which is part of why I’m moving away from using the names of the houses.

Here’s how it works. Everyone gets two houses – a Primary House and a Secondary House

YOUR PRIMARY IS YOUR MOTIVE. IT’S WHY YOU DO THINGS.

LION Primary’s sense of morality and ethics comes from inside. Things just feel right or they feel wrong.

BIRD Primary gets their morality and ethics from the world outside them. They decide what they think is right.

BADGER Primary is focused on the good of the group. Who cares if something is technically “moral” if people are getting hurt?

SNAKE Primary is a lot like Badger, but instead of protecting the group, their highest law is the well-being of the individual people they love.

YOUR SECONDARY IS YOUR METHOD. IT’S HOW YOU DO THINGS.

LION Secondary gets their power from being direct, honest, completely themselves. Their “plan” is just keep going until someone stops them. If they see a locked door, they kick it in.

BIRD Secondary collects tools and skills. They build things, find things, learn things. If they see a locked door, they go through their box of keys until they find the right one.

BADGER Secondary is fair, hardworking, and shows up. They’re good at getting people to trust them, and good at getting people to help them. If they see a locked door, they knock.

SNAKE Secondary knows the right mask to wear for each situation. They’re adaptive. They go in the back way. They find the third option.  They’re the ones who know how to pick the locks.

And now let’s talk about The Old Guard. Also, SPOILERS.

***

Nile Freeman is a bright Badger primary, defined by her groups. “I’ve got people who love me,” is the first thing she tells the team. And follows that up with, “I’m a Marine.” We meet her in uniform, part of a squad. Getting back to her family is her main motivation. (And it’s a “my family” thing - not a “my mom” or “my brother” thing.) Family continuity and family history mean everything to Nile, and that’s so Badger. Religion is also used as visual shorthand for “Badger” a lot, and Nile’s got her cross necklace. And she doesn’t want to kill people. Doesn’t matter if they’re the bad people who killed her, they’re still people. Badgers can’t ignore that.

Nile’s challenge is figuring out a way to separate from her family (and become an immortal commando) while still keeping her healthy, shining Badger intact. And she does it by expanding. It’s not just about protecting America and her family anymore. She looks at the wall outlining all the good the Old Guard has done, and her community expands to include them, and all of humanity.

She’s definitely got a Lion secondary. Yes, she’s willing to run into the villain’s stronghold with a bag of guns and not much plan - but this is an action movie, that stuff is kinda a given. I’m thinking more about when she has to lie and say her miraculous healing factor is an experimental skin graft – she hates doing it, she’s so bad at it, you can see her skin crawl. Nile is powerful when she is able to just lay out what she believes. People like Agent Copley and the Afghani women just feel the honesty and conviction bleeding off her, and come around to her way of thinking. 

Nile also has a Bird secondary model. Smashing down walls isn’t appropriate all the time, so a lot of Lion secondaries learn to use one of the mellower secondaries as backup. Nile’s Bird is subtle, but it’s there. She applies her anti-militant training to the situation, and thinks they should “follow the money.” She can identify a Rodin sculpture across a dark cave. And she spends a while trying to reason away the fact that she’s immortal (considering hypnosis, drug trips, all that fun stuff.)

Andromache the Scythian aka “Andy” is also a Badger primary. But a very old, very tired, very burnt one. She’s been protecting humanity for about ten thousand years, and she feels all the people she wasn’t able to save. Andy starts off the film doubting whether any of it mattered, if she was actually able to protect her community at all. Because she can’t protect everyone, she is forced to shrink that community down. She can protect Nile, Joe, Nicky, and Booker – and that has to be enough.

The situation with Quyhn is a good look at the sort of darkness that can live inside a Badger Primary. Because Andy stopped looking. She could have spent hundreds of years pouring money and time into finding Quyhn - and neglected the rest of her team, and by extension humanity. But Andy’s a Badger primary. That’s not a thing she can do.

(A Snake primary would never have stopped. Someone like Nicky would burn the world, if that’s what it took to get Joe back.)

If your preferred weapon is an ax or a hammer, then you’re a Lion secondary. That’s just how it works. You are too direct and too smashy to be anything else. Ms. “I always go first” Andy, leader of the group she thinks of as an army? Even when she’s discouraged and exhausted, her Lion secondary is still so loud. She has a bit of a Bird secondary model: she sets up rules like “we don’t do repeats, it’s too risky,” and establishes code words linked to specific maneuvers. But you can tell she’s a little uncomfortable with that kind of thinking. She wants to hit things with an ax and give inspirational speeches. And also threaten people.

Which means that Andy and Nile match perfectly. They are both Badger Lions with Bird secondary models. And that makes perfect sense. Nile was “born” at the same time Andy lost her immortality. They are both warriors. Nile is the one who will “go first,” when Andy isn’t able to anymore. She’s the one who gets Andy’s ax at the end. She’s the new Andy. Andy’s redemption comes with waking her Badger primary up, and training a replacement. Or as she puts it, “I think you showed up when I lost my immortality so I could remember what it was like (…) that there are people still worth fighting for.”

Nicolò di Genova aka “Nicky” fights for Joe. It really is that simple. His backstory tells you everything you need to know: he fought in the Crusades until he fell in love with a Muslim, and had to choose. On one hand - religion, country, job, society, security. On the other hand - the man he loves. For Nicky the answer is obvious. Because he is such a Snake primary.

As long as he’s with Joe, he’s fine. Agent Copley is trying to explain himself, Nicky doesn’t care. “I’m sure you’re bringing us to the person who paid for your betrayal. There’s a TV [on this plane] Joe!” The villains can talk all they want about the greater good and moral imperatives and changing the world. Nicky is just bored. “A fine justification. I’ve heard it so many times before.” None of that stuff matters to him.

His secondary is harder to spot, underneath the really loud primary and the really loud Lion secondary model. But I think I see a Badger secondary. Nicky’s a caretaker. He brings Andy her favorite candy, sets up Nile for the night and shows her where to sleep. Joe says that Nicky’s heart “overflows with a kindness of which this world is not worthy,” and I get that they’re in love, but that’s still some serious character testimony. I’m also going to throw in the fact that Nicky’s a sniper. Being a sniper is not like hitting things with an ax. It’s all about getting in place and being careful and patient. Badger secondary traits.

Yusuf Al-Kaysani aka “Joe” actually takes the time to lay out rules he lives by. Which is interesting, because the only other people in this film who do that are the villains. Those guys are not motivated by personal loyalty: they’re either Lion or Bird primaries motivated by “the greater good.” The Old Guard is a very Loyalist movie. When we get our big Theme Scene, the French shopgirl tells us, “Today I put this on your wound. Tomorrow you help someone up when they fall. We’re not meant to be alone.” That’s the ethos of the movie. It’s very Badger.

Joe gets how Badger Primaries work. He gets Andy, and the best example of this is when he comforts her by saying Quyhn “would be insane” by now. He’s basically saying, “you don’t have a responsibility to her the way you have to the rest of us, because she’s not really a person anymore.” It’s dark, but so is Andy, and that line of reasoning would make sense to a Badger primary.

Joe also understands Nicky’s Snake primary. He  knows he’s Nicky’s world, and he never stops demonstrating that. He has Nicky’s back when they fight (Nicky passes things over his shoulder without looking). He has Nicky’s back when they sleep (as the big spoon). He learned Italian for Nicky, and when Nicky is freaked, Joe just shows up with that “his kiss still thrills me, even after a millennia” speech. But that speech is also him explaining his worldview to the guards, the same way he bothers to tell them, “You shot Nicky. You shouldn’t have done that.”

When Nile asks, “Are you good guys or bad guys?” Joe responds, “Depends on the century.” He is interested in those large moral questions, and the answer he has decided on is a combination of Andy’s Badger morality, and Nicky’s Snake morality.

And to go with that really complicated Primary, I think Joe really is just a straightforward Lion secondary (another reason he gets Andy). I mean... he literally headbutts people. 

Sebastian “Booker” Le Livre, whose nickname is a very silly pun, is the most vaguely drawn character. I’m not sure if he turns Nicky and Joe over to Merrick because he wants to die, or because he wants to find a way to help Andy die. Or both. But either way, he is a very burnt Snake primary.

Booker seems to be the only one who kept up contact with his family after learning he was immortal. As a result, he got to watch his son die painfully with “hate and despair in [his] eyes,” blaming his father for not loving him enough to save him. It’s been about 150 years, but Booker is not over this.

That is a very Snake primary love, and when it comes down to it, Booker is a Snake with no people he can throw himself into loving the way he loved his son. (No wonder he drinks). He wants more emotional intimacy from Andy than she is able to give him - not in a romantic way, they have more of a sibling dynamic. But look at the betrayal in his eyes when he learns she’s lost her immortality: “Andy, look at me. Why didn’t you tell me?”

This is the exchange right after Booker betrays the team:

JOE: You selfish piece of shit. NICKY: Joe, leave it, please… BOOKER: What would you know of the weight of all these years alone? JOE: You’re a very pathetic man Booker. NICKY: Joe, stop. BOOKER: You and Nicky always had each other, right?

Nicky is sympathetic. He’s a Snake primary like Booker, he knows what living without a Person must be like, he knows exactly why Booker did what he did. Joe doesn’t. He only sees how Booker has failed to look at the big picture (like Joe would have, because he’s a Bird, that’s how he thinks) and that he made an objectively dumb call. Joe is angry at him for the rest of the movie. But the others, who know what it’s like motivated only by personal loyalty… they kind of get it.

To round things off, Booker is a Bird secondary. You can tell by the way he collects skills. He’s the operation coordinator, the quartermaster, the driver, and the tech guy. He’s also not afraid of a plan with steps. Nile calls him, “the brains of the operation” (although she’s probably being nice). Still, Booker is a good example of the way Bird secondaries aren’t always smart. His plan was pretty objectively terrible, but that was because his primary was so compromised.

tl;dr

Nile – Badger/Lion (Bird model)

Andy – Burnt Badger/Lion (Bird model)

Nicky – Snake/Badger (Lion model for fighting)

Joe – Bird who has built Nicky’s Snake morality, and Andy’s Badger morality into himself/Lion

Booker – Burnt Snake/Bird

[reading-wanderer]

I’ve been expanding the story I did for the Insomnia prompt from Ectober, and part of that was elaborating on the shouting match Vlad and Maddie were having. I felt like sharing my favorite part of the exchange:

——

Maddie was the first to recover, “Now hold on, are you talking about Fae?” she asked, obviously incredulous, “there’s never been an actual sighting—”

“Yes, yes I’m sure the Hunters Daniel was running from were just a collective hallucination then,” Vlad interrupted darkly, dropping the spoon in his hand, now warped beyond use, to the counter, “he could have just teleported himself all the way to a forest in the middle of Wisconsin from Amity Park. For the love of Apple Fritters, Maddie, your son could have died and you want to argue that the Fair Folk don’t exist? This is the hill you want to die on? Oh, I’m sorry,” he mocked, “I should say, ‘Is this the hill you want to kill Daniel on?’”

“Don’t talk to me like that,” Maddie barked back almost immediately, “of course I don’t want my children hurt. You. How could you even ask that? I’m just saying that I didn’t think we needed to protect ourselves from something that no one’s proven even existed.”

“I said they existed!” Vlad exploded, “I told both of you! Flaming Fudge Nuggets, Jack, you lived with me, how did you pick up none of it. You—”

——

The fun part is, Vlad has no clue that Danny was actually on his way to confront Vlad, ran into the Fae on his own, and then proceeded to immediately insult one. Like he’d probably still yell at the elder two for not teaching their children about Fae, but Danny would also be getting yelled at for being an idiot when confronted with creatures he knew nothing about. Sleep deprived, pissed off Vlad has no verbal filter and is, in fact, a caustic asshole.

He is also very aware that he’s probably burning bridges. And while Jack and Maddie are genuinely upset by the whole situation, they are also secretly a bit relieved that he’s finally being somewhat genuine with them because Vlad and Maddie use to fight all the time. The three of them are on two very different pages. Like, now that I’m thinking about it, it’s a good setup for why Vlad would think he’d need to coerce Danny into helping him with his ectoacne instead of going straight to the elder two and just figuring something out.

[inbarfink]

I believe Greg’s claims that his family situation was horrible. When a grown-up man feels like he has no other choice but to run away from his family (remember, Greg was, like, 20 when he left) and then has absolutely nothing good to say about them for years and years later - that’s an indictment of the parents, not the son. They forced him into activities that had nothing to do with his actual intersts (including wrestling which can be... very unpleasant when you’re not into it), and absolutely forbade him from anything associated with the thing he actually LIKED, music. They didn’t allow him to dress and look the way he wanted and not in a “I am not letting my toddler wear the same shirt for 20 days in a row way’, in a “your son is 18 and you are still forcing him to cut his hair the way YOU want it to look”. That’s bad, that’s really bad. Greg wasn’t just sick of a ‘boring, mundane life on the suburbs with too much meatloaf’, he was suffocated in a toxic household.

And I understand why Greg was upset and defensive when Steven started with his ‘maybe your parents had a point’ thing. It must hurt to hear your son, the only family you really have in this world, defend the family you ran away from. Steven’s not thinking totally straight, he accuses Greg of keeping him away from his grandparents but he saw the stacks of unopened letters - implying that Greg has TRIED to keep in contact with them but the DeMayos were the one who refused. He’s focusing on the image of normalcy and humanity that the DeMayos house represents, on school and friends and graduations and home-cooking and adorable spoon collections - and not on Greg feeling they could never accept him and that he had to hide his most treasured possessions from his parents.

But ALSO Greg should apologize to Steven and work to be a better parent. Steven wouldn’t have been happier under an upbringing as strict and overcontrolling as the DeMayos. But Greg’s only two options weren’t “toxic overbearing ‘normalcy’” and ‘living in a van and never going to school’ - he is at fault for going into the absolute extreme opposite of his own upbringing and prehaps of projecting his own desires over Steven’s needs. Steven has told him, quite clearly, that he is upset about growing up without a stable roof over his head, about missing out on school (which both an opportunity for his future and a chance to expand his peer group and make a lot more friends), about never going to a doctor’s (nobody could guess what effect Rose’s healing powers could have on Steven’s body! Steven really lucked out that he didn’t NEED to go to the Doc for most issues, but nobody could have guessed it!) and Greg’s response was just “Yeah, but what I had was worse!”. I understand why Greg’s instincts were to go on the defensive but he is the adult and the dad and Steven is his teenage son it’s Literally His Job to be the bigger person in the argument.

And just as I consider Greg’s seemingly 100% negative feelings about the DeMayos indictment enough that they were shitty parents, then I find Steven’s mixed feelings about Greg as an indictment that Greg’s parenting has been flawed. Steven is currently a very messed up teenager, and Greg is his dad; Steven’s healthy development and happiness is his responsibility! I understand why Greg Turned Up the Way That He Did considering his background, but he is at the very least complicit in many of the Shit That Fucked Steven’s Mental State to the point that it is today. Even if I accept the idea that Steven HAD to live off-the-grid due to being a Gem (and I don’t necessarily. Yeah, his mother is a Space Alien, but his dad is a US citizen and he was born on US soil, he can have a fucking Social Security Number), Greg could have... like... tried to find some sort of structured non-Gem activity that Steven might be intersted in (we’re not going Full DeMayo here) like an afterschool class or something to give Steven a chance to develop his nonmagical skills and bond with more children his age. Which would have lowered the amount of time Steven was stuck alone in the Beach House just waiting for the Gems to come back and allowed him to develop his interpersonal skills and create a bigger support network for himself... these are things that could have really helped Steven in the long-run!

Steven opened up to Greg about his issues (and we know how hard it is to Steven to actually open up!), and what Greg ended up offering to him was more about Greg than about Steven. The message of the “Mr. Universe” song is “you can be free! You can be anything!” and that was clearly so meaningful and touching to young Gregory DeMayo, but it is the exact opposite of what Steven Universe wanted and asked for - some sort of direction and stabillity. And it’s... not the worst mistake in the world for a parent to make, to try and give your kids what YOU want rather than what THEY want, especially when you are dealing with such a complex problem as Steven has. But when you realize the You solution isn’t working... you have to process that it’s not working because they are not You and they require a change is perspective and maaaaaybe they might feel a little hurt that you were projecting on them and might want an apology or at least an acknowledgement that that’s what you were doing and that you’re going to Not Do It now?

If you are a parent and you have a child who is as messed-up as Steven is right now, that is kinda your responsibility bcause your child is your responsibility. If you have a child that is mad at you, you should at least have the self-awareness to think about what you might have done wrong. If your child literally shouts at you something that basically means “the source of all of my problems is the fact that I am your son”, then... that at least requires some self-reflection. Steven said stuff that was Dumb and Wrong and Hurtful things in this car argument, that’s true. He WOULDN’T have been happy under the thumb of parents like the DeMayos, Greg probably was justified in cutting them off, it’s not his dad’s fault that he never meant his grandparents. But inside these dumb and hurtful things there is a kernel of real frustration and hurt. And instead of acknowledging that frustration; Showing some sort of regret for not being able to give Steven a more stable and ‘normal’ home life that he now desires, promising to do better in the future, even just a “sorry I messed up, I didn’t mean to mess you up”... Greg just acts like he ignores it completely.

If your child has an outburst that they was clearly ashamed of and was clearly Pretty Unhealthy, you can’t just say “I’m proud of you, you called me out on my bullshit. And if you do, you can at least, like... acknowledge that things you were called on in any way???? Rather than just make it about yourself and YOUR upbringing and how it was much worse, which... even if ya don’t mean it, comes off as just you ‘proving’ that your parenting style IS right, because, hey! You can tell me anything! While meanwhile your kid is processing that no, he can’t tell you anything, because you are not actually doing anything useful for me right now. When your child tells you that your parenting style was bad and harmful to them, you should not immediately go into the same old routines you always do right after that???

I fear that the whole experience might have made Steven’s question Greg’s love for him, that maybe now he sees Greg’s kind and accepting nature as insincere and just as an attempt to overcompensate for his own issues. Is Greg really proud of him or does he just say it because that’s what he’s ‘supposed’ to say? But I have no doubt that Greg loves and cares for Steven a whole lot and that he raised Steven the way that he did because he thought that was the best option possible and that... the whole situation is just hard for him. Steven is dealing with a lot of issues that he never outwardly displayed to his parental figures before and it’s hard for them to adjust and to know what the right solution is. And it’s just plain easier to try and fall into your regular parenting techniques that always seemed to work before (like giving your child more ice cream and telling them their emotions are valid), rather than try and totally dismantle your approach to parenting in one evening.

It’s important to remember that Greg’s probably not in the best place right now either. Just because I think it is Greg’s responsibility as the Dad to be the bigger person in the argument and see what part of Steven’s complaints are valid... doesn’t mean it’s not also a hard thing to do when he’s also bringing up memories of Greg’s abusive childhood and saying his parents might not be all that bad. That’s gotta make it hard for Greg to think rationally about Steven’s words. And that’s not factoring in the supernatural element in which Steven’s trauma gives him Scary Dangerous Powers and Greg is the squishest, most fragile part of Steven’s family.

But it’s still Greg’s responsibility to make Steven happy and healthy,  and on that day, on “Mr. Universe”, he messed that up. And I believe Steven when he says that he messed that up before too. Greg’s not a bad person, but... an apology for the missteps of parenthood is what Steven needed at that moment and what Steven was hoping for, and Greg’s inabillity to deliever it was what caused the rift in their relationship most of all. I mean... The show literally spells that Steven needs to hear some sort of ‘I’m sorry’, not just from Greg, but from all of his parental figures! Remember how “Prickly Pair” ended???

Cactus Steven is a metaphor for Meat Steven, for Cactus Steven to find peace he had to hear Meat Steven acknowledge that he hasn’t been the best parent and that he’s sorry. And it’s no coincedence that Steven has very rarely heard his parental figures apologize to him and that it has yet to happen in SUF, my prediction is that it’s gonna play some sort of part in the finale and with Steven fixing his relationship with Greg and the CGs.

[avwrites4ever]

Fantasy Setting Idea - Classic Japan (Heian Period)

It’s a New Year! And what better way to start it off than gush about something I love! I hope you will enjoy it too, and get excited, because I’m bursting with ideas!

I’ve even gushed about this to people at my work, the poor things. That’s how excited I am.

I just love discovering new writing ideas and hoping someone will do something wonderful with them. It doesn’t have to be me. Just someone.

So.

The Heian Period.

Also known as the Golden Age of Japan.

I think it’d make a fascinating base for a fantasy setting. So would ancient Korea, if the movie Ramage taught me anything.

*NOTE: This isn’t a history lesson. I’m just examining broad strokes of certain elements of culture & setting which I think would lend themselves to a fascinating fantasy story.

(Although there is a History of Japan in 5 minutes video at the end.)

Fun Fact:

The Tale of Genji, written during this time period, is probably

the world’s 1st novel.

The 1st novel. Ever.

Written by a court lady in Heian Japan, no less. She is known as Murasaki Shikibu, but that’s a nickname (her real name is unknown.)

Chiefly, I’ll quote from Royall Tyler’s intro to his translation of The Tale of Genji.

And if I can find my copy of The Pillow Book, written by Sei Shonagon, I’ll include that too. (Please don’t confuse with the film of the same name, which is not the same AT ALL.)

Here’s a summary of The Pillow Book:

http://cup.columbia.edu/book/the-pillow-book-of-sei-shnagon/9780231073370

*Not sure if this is the best translation, I just like the summary.

*Note: Translations are tricky, & often if you don’t like a translated text, it might be because the translation is bad, and not actually the fault of the original work! Please keep that in mind while reading.

The Tale of Genji & The Pillow Book are both primary sources, by the way, meaning they were written by people who were actually living in the Heian Period!

(And both ladies were rivals of each other, which I find hilarious, considering I like both of their works.)

They’re not dry & boring either. Far from it. (I mean obviously, or I wouldn’t recommend them.)

I recommend The Pillow Book first. If you have a good translation, while reading, you’ll learn about how life was during the time, which will make reading The Tale of Genji easier since, being a novel, Genji assumes you live in the Heian Period and so know all about it (the inside jokes, the word play, the burns, everything.)

I also find Sei Shonagon a fascinating person. Very funny & clever. She journals like I do, only less randomly. She’s very interested in the world around her & all its funny, heartwarming, or baffling moments.

If not for the barriers of time & language which, funny enough, translation has more or less broken, I feel as we’d have some great conversations.

I love how real people in history are both very relatable & very different from us.

I mention these 2 because it was chiefly while reading the intro to Royall’s translation of Genji that I got the idea for this post. Though I was already fascinated by Heian Japan while reading The Pillow Book.

Though, if anyone is interested, I first became intrigued by Japan’s history while reading Rurouni Kenshin. Considering it’s a manga, consisting of pictures & text, you might start there.

(Though Rurouni Kenshin is set shortly after the Meji Restoration, which I believe is something like the start of Japan’s modern period, since samurai are in decline. But don’t quote me, I could be wrong.)

Anyway.

Also, Tumblr apparently doesn’t know what the Heian Period is, so few pictures here will be actually of the Heian Period, and doubtful if they’re accurate.

Actually, I’m using this as an excuse to put in pictures of Toshiro Mifune & old Japanese black & white films & pretty landscapes & cats & anime, because I can.

So! What about Heian Japan so intrigues my writerly brain?

Lots of things, naturally,

Certainly a fantasy world based around the Heian Period will be different from your typical western Medieval-esque fantasy settings which are so popular.

Yes, I’m brilliant, no one would ever have guessed that.

(Though speaking of Medieval-esque fantasy research has taught me those, such as Game of Thrones, to give a popular example, are actually closer to reflecting the Early Modern Period.)

See this link for better argument by someone more researched than me:

https://acoup.blog/2019/05/28/new-acquisitions-not-how-it-was-game-of-thrones-and-the-middle-ages-part-i/

https://acoup.blog/2020/12/04/collections-that-dothraki-horde-part-i-barbarian-couture/

I mean yes, I was surprised too that a person who claims to do their research apparently hasn’t, but here we are.

Speaking of which, take everything I say with a grain of salt, because I know nothing. Nothing!

By which I mean, I am not an expert about the Heian Period, or even Japanese history. For example, a lot of what I’m talking about will involve the perspective of court nobles & rich people, since those were both the characters in the primary sources & were what the authors were themselves.

I’d love to read a story where the main characters & people involved are peasants in the Heian Period. (And who stay peasants, & aren’t secretly royal or noble.)

I’m only suggesting this as a way to expand your mind beyond fantasy settings which have been done before.

I hope too that I’m not advocating cultural appropriation either (an easy trap to fall into.) If you think I am, let me know!

Now that’s all out of the way, here’s some specifics about what I love about the Heian Period:

It’s a Hidden & Secret World Insubstantial as a Dream, Structured by Social Manners & Rank

What struck me right away while reading The Pillow Book & The Tale of Genji is how closed their worlds are. Noble women especially lived in a world of curtains, panels, blinds, and  paper, silk, or bamboo screens, and walled gardens. People speak to each other not only through these divides, but also through messengers / servants.

What connects all these things are how fragile they are.

As Royall writes in his introduction to The Tale of Genji, even in courtship, (pg. xix):

“He cannot see her, and he may have no idea what she looks like. He will not normally see her even if she speaks to him in her own voice, since she will still be in another room, behind a blind and a curtain, and the curtain will remain even if she allows him into the room where she is.”

Seeing another person is very intimate. This makes it very easy to build up mystery and intrigue of a person before you actually meet them. Catching a glimpse of them or a snatch of their voice, or the hem of a sleeve from under a screen can be electrifying. Especially of a gentleman to a lady, or vice versa, because of all those blinds and screens and so forth. Royall mentions this in the introduction to his translation of The Tale of Genji. 

“If he then takes it upon himself to brush her curtain aside and go straight to her, he will by that gesture alone have claimed something close to the final intimacy.” (Introduction, pg. xix.)

What prevents him, of course, is a combination of good manners & reputation. Royall writes, “Good manners maintained a proper distance, which amounted to unholding the accepted social order.” Loss of reputation could mean loss of friends and entertainment and wealth, even exile. Having other people to talk to or play games or music with was essential.

Introducing ghosts, shape-shifters, and uncertain magic to such a setting is only to be expected. (There is a ghost in The Tale of Genji.) 

Also note that then & now personal names were seldom used, & especially not in public unless by someone intimate with you (such as a family member or old friend) or the person was extremely rude. Instead, people were referred to by their rank and title or last name, or even the place where they came from. Some were even referred to by a number, for example, First Princess (Onna Ichi no Miya.)

Notes or letters were vital within such a formal social structure. Even more vital than text messages are today. For in notes, especially poetry, someone could speak from the heart. So much that even the type of paper used was important. For example, most romantic notes were written on thin, colored paper, often kept in the front fold of a robe. They could also be scented and contain a branch from a tree or flowers.

And of course, clever word play and innuendos were all the rage. People were also expected to memorize poetry, and judged if their poetry or writing wasn’t up to standard.

Anyone who loves words would excel here. Think of all the possibilities! Secret lover’s notes, inside jokes between friends, sick burns between enemies or rivals. Plots to overthrow the Emperor could happen in plain sight. Throw some curses and magic to the mix and see what happens. Having some sort of mystery would also work well.

Hope you enjoyed this & makes you excited about creating a unique, rich, fascinating fantasy world.

Or really any part of Japan’s history, which roughly goes like this:

Obviously, if any of this intrigues you, & you want to use Classic Japan as a setting, you’ll need to do research. And I mean it. Or I will hunt down some rusty spoons.

I’m serious though. The reason why I’m writing this post is, hopefully, other people can also learn about Heian Japan, or more of Japan’s rich, beautiful, bloody history. Share the wonder with others, so the wonder won’t be lost or forgotten.

And in doing so, discover the wonder at being able to laugh at jokes made by someone who doesn’t even speak the same language as you, doesn’t even live in the same time or place . . .

It’s truly amazing. People are more alike than we know. And amazingly different. Reading manga & learning about Japan (and other countries) has been & is such a glorious experience. I understand myself & other people better.

It’s opened up the world.

[supposed2bfunny]

Yoo it’s me & you got me thinking. So 2D,spoiled only child,not real thoughtful(prob didn’t realize his mum did his laundry til he moved out and his laundry wasn’t magically clean anymore) & Murdoc leaves little candies and things in his pockets/around the house for him. Phase 5, Murdoc’s in jail. Suddenly there’s no candy around for him all the time. He’s confused about this until Noodle is like “who do you think did all that stuff for you?” What do you think that realization is like for him?

Uhhhh this may have expanded beyond anything I had in mind when you sent this ask hours ago, nips. Short ficlet under the cut!

It’s the second or third day after Ace moves in and the band moves forward with the new album that 2D finds the last vestige of Murdoc lurking on his things like a smelly miasma. He pulls on a worn sports jacket, a gift from FILA from 2013 or 2014, slips his hands into the pockets, and finds something heavy and metallic lurking in the right-side pocket.

Pulling it out, he beholds a silver ring bearing a skull, the sort of thing Marilyn Manson would have pulled off well in the 90s, that gothic bulkiness in which Murdoc has always aspired to look cool in and has never quite succeeded.

After a moment’s inspection, 2D does the logical thing: he hurls the ring down the staircase of the Spirit House, grinning with satisfaction at the sound of it bouncing off the wooden floors below and rolling away to be forgotten amongst debris and clutter and apathy.

“Tosser,” he mutters to himself.

The weeks wear on. Recording goes well, the band gets on just fine, and 2D does not think about Murdoc. 

However, he does suffer a few completely unrelated hang-ups that put the faintest damper on his otherwise now-near-perfect and tosser-free existence.

Primarily in the loss of surprise candy.

He wonders for the first time where all the sweets have gone.

And this leads him down the rabbit hole of wondering where they came from for the first time. For as long as he can remember, 2D has always been pleasantly surprised by hard candies, lemon sherbets, blue-raspberry lollies, Jelly Babies, even the rare Cadbury Creme Egg in the pockets of his jackets, or in his jeans, sometimes tucked into his beanies or even shoved into his pillowcases. Sort of like a tooth fairy has graced him at random times, leaving behind his preferred snacks. Good omens, if ever there was such a thing. 

It’s always reminded him of the way his mum used to leave Flake bars on his pillow after doing her weekly shopping, even when his dad went through his health kicks and tried to ban sweets from the house. 

He doesn’t exactly notice the loss until he’s standing in line at the market one day, purchasing several boxes of his preferred frozen chana masala dinners, when he impulsively grabs a few chocolate bars on his way to check out.

It’s only then that it occurs to him he hasn’t found any mystery goodies lying around for him in several weeks. Where had they come from in the first place, he muses. Noodle? Maybe Russel?

It doesn’t seem likely that Russel was giving them out, since he prefers to cook whole meals himself to serve the band. That leaves Noodle. And why wouldn’t she be sharing candy with him these days? Are they having a row?

As he makes his way home, he ponders what he could have done wrong to upset Noodle. She’d seemed perfectly fine the other day when they went out for bubble tea. She’d even laughed when he’d sucked the boba through the thick straw by sticking it between the gap between his front teeth. Things had seen positively chilly between them!

Being the brave, no-nonsense man that he is, and the de facto leader of the band now that the tosser is locked up for lord-knew-what, he figures he ought to confront her about it straightaway.

So he gives it a couple of days, in case she needs to blow off steam or cool down. Then a few more days, figuring she can approach him first to apologize, he should really be the bigger man. Then he gives it yet a few more days, just to be sure they are in fact having a row. Because rehearsals seem normal. Noodle’s spirits seem as high as ever, her Instagram posts emoji-saturated, her smiles genuine, her laughter nonstop as she develops a close bond with Ace and the two become inseparable. 

Finally, he bumps into her one night: they’re nothing reaching for their preferred coconutmilk ice cream sometime past two in the morning.

“Great minds think alike,” she smiles. “I’ll grab the bowls.”

“Hey, Noods,” he says, leaning back against the counter casually and popping the carton open. “Can I ask you something?”

“What’s up, Dee?”

“Are you...aw, it’s gonna sound so silly! You ready to laugh? You’re not cross with me, are you?”

She hands him a bowl and spoon and gets scooping. “Cross with you? Not at all--” he nearly drops his bowl in relief--”why do you ask?”

“Nah, forget it. What’s Ace say? Fuggeddaboutit?”

She pulls a face. “That was a really shitty accent.”

“Aint that the point?”

“I guess,” she concedes. “Anyway, I want to know why you thought I was cross with you: just tell me!”

“Well...I guess I kind of miss the candy you always shared with me.”

Noodle pops her spoon into her mouth, sits on the kitchen table and crosses one leg over the other. “Huh? What candy?”

“I mean, you’re the sweet tooth queen, Noods! You always have candies on you, and you used to share ‘em with me. And I guess I miss it a little bit.”

“When did I last share candy with you?” she asks. “It’s been like, a million years since I placed one of those bulk orders of the good stuff from Japan that I like.”

“No, no, not any Japanese candy. I just mean like, Jelly Babies and stuff. You used to leave ‘em in my coat pockets, or sitting out on my keyboards to surprise me. Like, rewind a month or so ago, you’d do it all the time.”

“No I wouldn’t,” she answers, looking thoroughly perplexed. 

“But...” he frowns down at his ice cream. It’s too cold still, hasn’t begun to get all good and melty the way he likes it. Just a lump of chill and ice. “Then who did?”

“You mean the little presents Murdoc always used to leave out for you? 2D, that was all Murdoc.”

There’s a pause as 2D continues to leer down at his bowl, almost forgetting that he’s not alone in the room. He remembers the skull ring he’d found and thrown. He remembers the candies sitting on the bench by his piano in the basement, the comic books rolled up and jammed into the case of his acoustic guitar, the comic books he has no memory of purchasing though they feature his favorite heroes. He remembers the fidget cube he’d found one day in his sock drawer, and the Cadbury Creme Eggs next to his condoms by the bedside.

“Hey,” Noodle’s voice draws him back out. “You okay?”

“Yeah,” he says quickly. “Everything’s fine, luv.”

She arches a brow at him; she knows he only calls her that when he's unfocused. “It’s okay to miss him, you know,” she says gently. “Sometimes I do too. He was pretty indulgent towards you, when he wanted to be. Can’t blame you for missing that.”

“Yeah right,” he forces a chuckle. “Think we’re all doing better with that sod out of the band for a bit. I’m having a nice time stretching my legs, so to speak. Really, I’m much happier these days, in case that wasn’t obvious.”

“Okay,” she responds, and she sounds patronizing, but maybe it’s just his imagination. “I’m gonna go finish the movie I started,” she hops off the counter, leaving him to his thoughts. “G’night.”

“’Kay, night!” He sits down at the table properly, intending to finish his dessert. But while it melts, he figures he has time for a smoke. He pats his pants pockets, realizes he doesn’t have any cigarettes on him. Murdoc always had ciggies with him, no matter where he was, no matter what level of dress or undress he was in. These days, 2D often finds himself with smokes but no lighter, or playing with a lighter but lacking in smokes.

Not in the mood to get up to find some, he instead sits there, fiddles with his spoon. It seems wrong to qualify Murdoc’s behavior as kindness, given that the word is so contradictory to his entire persona. Murdoc is not kind. Never has been. Murdoc is a tosser, a criminal, an impulsive crackhead with a tendency to make decisions that hurt those around him.

A selfish prick...whose arbitrary actions have unwittingly brought him joy for months, years, shit, he can’t remember when he first started noticing these little treats and presents left out for him, like a corvid collecting bottle caps for a preferred human companion. 

He hates Murdoc then, not for his cruelty and nasty behavior, but for his capacity to defy his own constructed persona. 

Sometime deep into these thoughts, he realizes that his ice cream has melted beyond the point of being softened and melty: it’s just a puddle of coconutmilk soup with a caramel swirl. It’s also lukewarm. It’s also approaching four in the morning.

Joints cracking as he stands, 2D brings his bowl to the sink, then approaches the bottom of the staircase. He pulls up the flashlight on his cellphone, casts it around the foyer and the living room, peaks under unpacked boxes of records and ottomans collecting dust and many, many, many pairs of shoes.

He doesn’t find that ring he’d thrown. Eventually, he gives up looking and heads to bed.

For the first time since he’d received a phone call from the local police station, he dreams of Murdoc, wakes up with crusty eyes and tight lungs and stares at the ceiling for a long time. He feels less like the leader of the band then, and more like a wayward child. A runaway. A vagabond. Directionless.

Eventually, he reaches out an arm, fumbles blindly till he finds the notebook he’s been writing lyrics in. With a sigh, he hoists himself up into a sitting position, rolls his shoulders; a joint cracks somewhere in his neck.

His pen scratches dryly a bit against the blank page at first, reluctant to share its ink with him. The hiss of nub against paper, friction. Then, the ink floods out, all at once. 

[canyouhearthelight]

The Miys, Ch. 76

Whew!  Enormous Family Dinner is finally done!

This took 2 more chapters than I originally planned, but I feel that holds pretty true for any good conversation you have among your found family... it just never wants to stop!

As always, thank you to @satan-parisienne for being so very, very patient with my ‘hurry up and wait’ style of requesting feedback, especially while you haven’t felt the greatest.  You are far better at pointing out “yeah, but this makes sense to LITERALLY NO ONE ELSE” than anyone I will ever know.  Also, @baelpenrose for helping me nail some of the dialogue, along with keeping me on track with all the bits and bobs I try to include in a single chapter.  Between the two of you, I feel like a better writer every day.

To give an idea of how crazy this chapter was to write, content warnings include mentions of:

Food Painfully spicy food Witches (non specific) Burning witches (the fact it happened) Sex (non explicit) Drugs Paranoia Food aversions

To be clear, none of this occurs on screen with the exception of the foods.  But it is all referenced in the conversation within the chapter, so just in case I wanted to make sure to mention it here. I also tried to tag it all.

I managed to calm myself down while Conor and Maverick dragged Sam to get more food.  As I wiped the last of the tears from my eyes, Alistair was dutifully telling Arthur some of my more humorous antics.  The dry humor and deadpan delivery threatened to put a smile on my long-lost friend’s face.

“It was ginger tea, not green tea,” came Tyche’s voice and she snatched a curried-vegetable wellington out of my hand. Stuffing it in her face, she turned to the teacher-cum-warlord-cum-teacher. “If you ever do or say anything unpleasant to my sister, if you make her even the tiniest bit uncomfortable, I will end you,” she advised jovially.

“I can’t exactly return that threat,” he pointed out, nonplussed. “I probably know more about your reputation than anyone on this ship except Sophia, and I’m not brain-dead enough to think you’re going to hurt her.” He paused before clarifying. “Necessary kicks in the ass notwithstanding. Hey - “

“You have to earn that privilege, professor,” she interrupted.  Draping herself over a chair - there weren’t any arms, how was she doing that? - she turned to me. “I like Parvati.  Guerilla protest artist in the body of a goddess.”

“Fortunately, humanity progressed past a point where we burn witches at the stake,” Arthur rued in agreement.  “Otherwise, I’m pretty sure Ms. Fletcher wouldn’t have made it out of infancy.”

“Certainly no Refugee Guernica,” I agreed with a sigh.

Grey sat down and nodded a greeting before adding “I have come to burn your fields and steal all your women.”

“Our dear Councillor Kalloe certainly seems to worship at that altar,” Alistair commented before I could stop sputtering at the sudden show of humor.  His face was entirely innocent when our heads whipped around collectively. “What? There is not enough soundproofing in the several galaxies - “

A dark hand swatted at his face as Derek objected. “Not in front of the dumplings,” he signed before swatting at Alistair some more.

“As a former warlord, I feel like I should object to that,” Arthur directed at Grey. “I mean, I may have burned a few fields, but I never stole all the women…”

I sighed with feigned wistfulness. “I don’t think Parvati had to steal anyone.  They probably marched behind her happily, with desperately high hopes.”

Several nods exchanged around the table before Arthur cleared his throat. “Speaking of witches…” He glanced pointedly at Tyche. “I managed to find something from Earth already in the consoles, and I am well aware that Sophia is insane about spice.” More than I did, my sister immediately perked up. “This is something I got to try exactly once in the Before, and it’s definitely not for the faint of heart.”

“Berbere,” I murmured.  I could remember him telling me about it afterward.  It was the hottest thing he had eaten in his life, at least at the time.

He nodded in confirmation. “Exactly.  But, just a warning before anyone rushes off to try this: it isn’t just spicy in the Scoville sense, this is spicy in the Dune sense of the word.”

A few confused looks exchanged around the table.  I threw looks at both Tyche and Arthur asking for permission before explaining. “In the fiction series Dune, there is a drug that is only found naturally on a planet called Arrakis.  The drug is nootropic, anti-gerial, and mutagenic, primarily allowing for expanded consciousness, ability to understand fifth and sixth dimensional navigation, and in limited cases, ancestral memory. Although the actual name of the drug is melange, the common name is simply ‘spice’.”

Arthur mimed applause; he had heard me mention my tendency to spout information like a walking encyclopedia, but this was the first time he had seen it in person.

The confused looks cleared up slightly, but there were still more than I would have liked.  Grey gently raised a hand for attention. “And… You actually want to eat this?”

I nodded fervently, as did Tyche, although Arthur tilted his head back and forth. “I mean… I believe after the meal I… experienced… I used the phrase ‘what unholy fire did I just put into my body’, but hey. It was delicious, even if the experience was a little closer to fiery transcendence than was altogether comfortable.”

Tyche snorted. “Burning witches at the stake, you mean?”

Ahhh… that was why talking about Parvati made him think of berbere.

“Just don’t give it to Derek, I’m begging you,” he responded. “This is not the ‘understanding eyes of kindly folk who burned witches alive to save their souls’ kind of thing. This is more ‘being consumed in the unholy fire of the most delicious thing you can imagine and seeing the fabric of reality in the process’ kind of thing.” Shuddering dramatically, he glanced at Derek. “Something tells me you would try to hack reality, and we kind of need that to just keep working right now.”

A sudden expression crossed Tyche’s face that I could only describe as looking like the physical manifestation of a click-noise. “Transcendent… I’ve noticed several people on the Ark - and I mean easily over a hundred - acting strange lately.  This can’t be related, can it?”

My neck ached in sympathy for the way it would have snapped around, had I not been facing her already. “You’ve noticed it, too?”

Derek tapped the table emphatically, requesting our attention. “Noticed what?”

“People have been unusually antisocial,” Tyche clarified. “Instead of greeting strangers, they look at me skeptically when I say hi.”

I nodded in agreement. “Even people who were very casually friendly in the last year or so, suddenly just nod and duck away to whisper furtively. It would be one thing if I had done something that clearly had a negative impact on the crew, but… I mean, I even see people who are carrying portable habitats for Else eyeing me weirdly.”

If Arthur had cats’ ears, I swear they would have been pricked as far forward as possible - for someone who was suspicious as a default, he looked curious enough to die for the satisfaction of an answer. “How large are these groups? Have you noticed any frequent meetings? Do you ever see people from several groups interacting? Are they quieter when you - or any other outsiders, I guess - approach?  Is it always the same people?”

My head spun as I tried to parse out answers. The questions had come rapid-fire, and I realized abruptly that Arthur, for all our digital interaction in the Before, wasn’t used to my auditory processing issues.

Thankfully, our Knights of the Dinner Table arrived from a successful quest, laden with several plates of tidbits and small cups of hot soup.  Tyche and I glanced at each other, silently agreeing to suspend the discussion of odd behaviors, before I spoke. “Soup isn’t on the menu, guys.”

“Special request,” Sam insisted carefully. “We all like miso, and it helps digestion.”  Without waiting for approval, he took one bowl, scooped all the tofu out and added it to a second bowl, and handed the first bowl to Derek. “No mushy,” he promised sincerely.

I restrained the urge to gape.  Never had I seen Sam assert himself like that, and it honestly made me insanely happy to watch.  Looking around the table, I saw the slightest twitch of Grey’s mouth. “It is very healthy to be clear about what you want, and builds friendships when you do so for others.” 

So they were the culprit behind Sam coming out of his shell. Interesting. “Cheers to insurrection,” I murmured, toasting with my half-gone bloody mary.

“And soup,” Maverick added cheerfully as he accepted the cup with extra tofu.

Not even bothering with the spoon, Conor actually toasted with his soup before downing it in one swallow.  “Slainte.”

Thankfully, Tyche and Grey both took much more graceful sips from their small bowls. 

Quickly, I sent a message to Arthur to send his questions in writing so that I could answer them fully.  Derek also made quick gestures with his datapad, seemingly asking the same thing. 

Everyone ignored Derek slipping half his bao back on Sam’s plate.

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[coffeeandcalligraphy]

Teeth Marks, Empty Nest, Picking Ritual | Writing Update

Hey People of Earth!

It’s been a hot minute since I last wrote a Moth Work writing update, and so here we are again for the final countdown! Today’s post will be covering everything related to chapter 12, 13, and 14. Let’s start with Teeth Marks, which I wrote probably sometime in February.

Teeth Marks marks the third part of Moth Work, called Wings, and the first chapter back in Harrison’s POV. I honestly can’t remember much of the writing process as it’s been a while, so let’s dive straight into the scene breakdown!

Scene A: 

We start in the doorway of Eliza’s apartment where Harrison stands shook because a) his boi Lonan has answered it (scandal) and his mother, who he has been estranged from for the last four years, is also in this apartment (EXTRA scandal). Eliza ushers Harrison inside (and this is probably the only *nice* interaction they ever have, spoiler alert!)

Harrison is very shook, and also a little angry, and also a little confused! He doesn’t know why his mother is here, and doesn't understand why Lonan wouldn’t contact him to tell him she is here.

Him and Eliza get into a bit of a scuffle where Eliza is protective of Lonan and is like “who are you mate” and Harrison’s like hahahHA pardON. This leads to Lonan kicking them both out even tho this ain’t even his house!

Scene B:

We now move to the stairwell right outside Eliza’s apartment where she and Harrison have been sitting in awkward silence! Harrison notices she’s wearing his guardian angel necklace (which Lonan mistakenly took back in chapter 6).

This scene is instrumental in setting up how these two interact, which in short, is not! fun! for! either! They try to be civil but can’t help but be protective over Lonan for different reasons. Eliza because they are now sort of in a relationship, and Harrison because hahaha he’s been there, and also because Eliza is Lonan’s father’s ex! Why!

Lonan interrupts this conversation and him and Harrison have a lil private moment even tho Eliza is standing right there aahaha. Eliza leaves which prompts Lonan to go after her, and we end with Harrison all alone in the stairwell like a proper sad boi.

Excerpts:

I previously wrote some mean things about this chapter and am editing it out cuz we tryna be positive! Here’s some tender romance because why not! For context, Harrison has asked Eliza how much she knows about the nature of the boys’ relationship (she knows nothing!!)

He could tell her the truth. About the polaroids left back in Boston. What it felt like to kiss him underwater. What it felt like to dance with him, his clumsy instep. What it felt like to trace each notch of his ribs in the off moments he’d sleep and how wonderful it was, to touch the places his hunger would go. 

Some more romance because yesss:

He pretends they’re alone at the cabin, somewhere on the water, sharing a sleeve of crackers, looking at the moon like it’s the other’s iris, somewhere where constellations read less like hieroglyphics and more like sonnets. 

Let us move onto chapter 13, Empty Nest!

Scene A:

Harrison sits alone at the dinner table watching a TV show in a language he doesn’t speak. His mother interrupts this *chillin* and they get into a heated conversation.

This ends badly for Harrison, to which Lonan (who is presumably arguing with Eliza in her bedroom) comforts him and yeets the two of them outta that apartment! Knight in shining armour babyyyy

Scene B:

Lonan takes Harrison to chapter nine’s beautiful place (the cove).

They chat about their (fallen) relationship and Lonan + Eliza’s relationship that is apparently now flourishing (hahah it actually isn’t)

This turns romantical very fast!!! I am guilty of self-indulgence!!

Excerpts:

EDIT: I originally had an edit in here saying I didn’t have the mental spoons to edit this chapter which is why I wouldn’t share a lot of excerpts! This was very true haha, as I was amidst the worst mental health week I’ve had in years, but guess! who! tried! to! edit! anyway! This obviously was not the best idea and I pushed myself too hard. This led to me doing some crying and beyond that, a decision to take a few days off of writing (despite the fact that I didn’t want to). I’m feeling great now which I’m so grateful for, but just a note! Anyhow!!

This excerpt makes me laugh because it gives me “lonely man sitting on his porch in the prairies” vibe:

No one eats together. Lonan and Suzanna have already taken their pick, and Eliza eats in her room. Harrison hasn’t seen Lonan since he followed Eliza’s empty trail back into the apartment, and he hears him now, between the drone of infomercials and advertisements on the Spanish TV station he doesn’t even understand. Coming from her room, he can picture him, the way Lonan argues, competitive like he’s trying to win something. Suzanna sits on the balcony, maybe hiding a smoke, or something more ridiculous, new age, like an essential oil pen. Ribbons of grey luminescing in the neon lights. Maybe it’s more accurate to say Harrison eats alone. 

This is the excerpt that I had a breakdown editing lmaooo I think it’s cute tho!!

Somewhere better is a beach. Hidden in a cove, the stones arched over seafoam. In the moonlight, sand glitters, water trills, a night owl in the distance wails. Lonan leads him to the cove’s heart, a bullet of clearing that reveals constellations neither recognize. Lonan’s brought a basket with him, unfolds the checked blanket across the shore. Harrison sits first, and observes as Lonan travels the cove’s perimeter, collecting driftwood as he goes. He stacks them into a pyramid at the shore’s lip, pulls out a lighter.

He starts the fire easily, cups the flame like it’s a jittering organism, coaxes it until it expands. The flame tints his jaw gold, glares in his eyes so they look like blue fire. The night halos around ­Lonan, burnishes the cove walls, turns the sand into a mirage. As Lonan nurses the fire, Harrison traces his face, the violet impasto around his eye. Lonan has always looked like a masterpiece to him, damp black hair that almost looks navy blue, a smile so subtle, it’s almost acquired. He holds the fire so it toasts his chin, his focus a delicate, paternal thing.

Picking Ritual is chapter 14 of the book! I wrote this during reading break, and it’s one of my faves a) because of the title and b) because Harrison and Eliza FIGHT (I’m here for the tea).

Scene A:

Lonan and Harrison get back from their self-care-gone-romantical escapade to drunk Eliza creepily sitting in the dark!! Harrison’s mother has left, which Eliza uses as cruel ammo (don’t we love her)!

This is where we really get to see Eliza’s other side as she gets gaslighty as a response to Harrison’s very true callouts

Scene B:

Later, Eliza may or may not purposefully leave her bedroom door open while mildly unholy matters occur that’s all I’m gonna say about that!!!

Scene C:

Eliza leaves her room to “get some orange juice” (she’s trying to get a rise out of Harrison, which works). They roast each other endlessly until Harrison asks her to play a game with him.

Scene D:

This game is a game of cards, which is actually Harrison choosing four cards (king of spades = Lonan’s father, queen of hearts = Eliza, the joker = Lonan, and a jack = Harrison) so he can learn more about each one he chooses for her.

This is where the chapter title comes from!

Excerpts:

The following is a self-roast because my house does all the following (besides magnets on ALL four corners of dishcloths, there’s currently just one. ;) Lonan in this scene is Fiona in that scene in Shrek 2 where Shrek and King Harold are arguing over dinner (CW: there’s a description here that could be potentially triggering for self-harm!).

Suzanna is gone when they get back to Eliza’s apartment. No jacket on the coat hook. No shoes on Eliza’s straw-woven welcome mat. The kitchen has been picked over, each plate, fork, back in its strangely correct place. Eliza keeps her cutlery in jars, and her pans in the oven, her dish cloths magnetted to the fridge by all four corners, a pristineness that feels chemical.

Just as he’s about to comment on it, a light from the living area flicks on, and underneath sits Eliza, paging through a book in the dark. Spots like wine stains on her cheeks shine glassy under the harsh lightbulb.

“She has a place twenty minutes from here. By the public gardens,” she says, running her fingernail against the ribbed spine of the hardcover. Harrison can’t make out the title. When he stares blankly at her, examining the patches on her skin until he’s memorized of their surface area, she clears her throat and shuts the book. “Your mother?”

“I know,” he says.

“That your mother has a place twenty minutes from here?”

“That you were referring to my mother.”

“So you didn’t know?”

ugh I love Harrison and Eliza arguing it’s my fave dynamic:

Eliza stands, and smooths the silk of her night dress, though one crease continues to bunch. She folds her hand into a fist, and brings it to her mouth, biting on her knuckles as she paces. Harrison and Lonan watch her, and Lonan’s about to step toward her when she nods and directs her gaze straight at Harrison. “Did that upset you?” she asks, peeling a sliver of skin up between her teeth, letting it snap back. “The way I spoke of your mother.”

“I don’t care about anything you have to say.”

Oof oof tensions be RISING:

Lonan knocks on Eliza’s door a half hour later and doesn’t come back out. Harrison watches the shut door like he can break through it from the couch, how heavy it sits in its frame like they’ve taken turns smearing caulking in its seams.

The nightglow decolours his chin, his eyes, and he stares at the stars as he did an hour ago with Lonan. He touches his lips, hoping something divine will reappear on his fingers, something divine enough to anoint himself with. Nothing does, of course, but he tries, dappling each groove of his mouth. 

Here’s some Eliza being Eliza :)

He should tell her to buy some curtains. The sliding door’s glass opens to her balcony where his mother stood, pouring onto the busy street below her apartment complex. He can almost perfectly replicate the image of his mother with just his fingertip, a familiarity of her unknown, but unconsciously memorized by him. Suzanna has traded her only pair of shoes—a dingy set of floral flip-flops—for boots with silver zippers, steel toes, heels perfected by a designer she has a connection to. He thinks of his mother with sour precision, a sugary glumness that makes his mouth heavy.

He still wears the angel Lonan re-fastened around his neck and examines it against the belly of the two-seater Lonan once slept on.

She’s lost a stone from where he threw it, almost unnoticeably in the corner where her wings meet her back. He runs his finger over the empty spot, a nearly undetectable groove, and wonders how difficult it would be to find it in the tooth of Eliza’s hardwood.

Just as he’s prepared to get up and find out, the heavy door jars open. Wider than he’s expecting, so he can see Lonan from the couch. Arranged against a pillow, his hair disappearing into the dark wood of Eliza’s bedhead. His eyes closed, a tremor that rocks through his forehead every few seconds. And then quickly, Eliza shuffling through the opening. She wears a kimono patterned with koi fish, the fabric rustling against her bare thighs as she enters the kitchen.

Harrison watches her through his eyelashes, her half-up hairdo falling toward her face, the flash of skin pale, like the peel of the moon.

She grabs a glass he washed and fills it from the sink. Once a bulb forms across the surface, she tips it to her lips, and swallows deliberately.

Harrison watches as she checks the sink for unwashed dishes she knows aren’t there. As she adjusts a placement on her table that doesn’t need adjusting. As she spins herself on her toes around the kitchen island, her kimono splaying so he sees flashes of her thighs again. She dances like this back to her bedroom, where she sets her water glass on the dresser, and keeps the door wide open. 

I can’t not share this part I apologize there is some spice but also Harrison’s iconic Gay (TM) takedown at the end brings me so much joy:

Eliza exits the room a half hour later, except this time, doesn’t dance. Still, she steps carefully, her toes taut as she patters against the floorboards. Harrison watches her with his arms crossed, and stays like that, even when they make eye contact.

She startles and re-adjusts her kimono, so the clip of her skin disappears. She’s combed her hair since she and Lonan finished, and it sits gauzy over her forehead.

“Have you ever thought of buying a deadbolt?” he says, watching carefully as she turns and grabs a glass from a cabinet.

The refrigerator thrills when she opens it, a wash of gaudy tungsten yellowing her face. She sucks on her lip as she pulls out a bottle of orange juice, glugging a cupful into her mouth first, and then into a glass. 

“A deadbolt,” she says, a lightness in her voice—false innocence. “Why?”

“I’ve heard good things. Security. Privacy. You live alone, don’t you?”

She juts the orange juice to her lip fast, her chin bucking like she’s taking a shot. “I do.”

“You’re planning on keeping it that way?”

Eliza drains the last of the orange juice and rests the glass in the sink. She flicks on the tap so a stream splashes into its mouth like somersaults, diluting the juice until the glass cleans.

“There must be someone,” Harrison elaborates. He shifts, so his legs hang off the couch’s edge. The hardwood is cold, and for a moment, he feels like he’s stepping on water. “You’re seeing people, aren’t you? You live in Las Vegas. Good job. Decent apartment.”

Eliza shakes off the wet glass and sets it on the drying rack. “Are you interested?”

“I’m gay, but thanks. How does that work, anyway? Dating you. Would I send in an application? Self-addressed stamped envelope and all? Email?”

ugh more iconic Harrison I love him:

Harrison’s eyes focus on the lip balm and he imagines Lonan putting it there, his finger moving across her mouth and then down, like an anointment. “Isn’t that such a coincidence, then? You’re so selective, yet you manage to date two members of the same family.”

Her smile fades. Eliza clucks her tongue and wipes her mouth quickly with the back of her hand. Thoughtlessly, she refills the clean glass with more orange juice, and only realizes her mistake after the liquid sits precisely at the rim of the cup.

“Shit,” she says, wringing her hand out. “Shit.”

“I’ll drink it,” he says, and is already up and at the kitchen island before she puts another hand on the glass. Eliza almost scowls, but chews on her gums when she catches herself. She slides the glass across the granite, and a blip of orange juice jitters onto the surface. Harrison dabs his pinky in it and sucks it into his mouth. “I want to ask you a favour.”

“I’m not doing anything for you.”

He puts a hand against the fridge before she can move past him, and Eliza sighs, weaves her arms haughtily over her chest. “Cards.” The fridge rumbles to life under his fingertips, and Eliza jumps. “Play a game with me,” he says.

Sharing because of Harrison’s roast at the end, it’s really just one of those days:

Eliza’s a good shuffler. Easily, she dices the cards, the hard split of their edges when he usually shuffles almost non-existent. He’s only ever met one other person who can shuffle like her—his mother.

Harrison sips the orange juice as she shuffles the deck. In all truth, he doesn’t need the cards to be shuffled—he knows exactly which ones he needs. But her ease intrigues him, and he can’t help but feel mesmerized with each flitter of the deck.

“Where did you learn how to do that?” he asks after another long pull of juice.

She cuts the deck and continues. “My father.”

“I didn’t know you had parents.”

“I didn’t know your mother had children.”  

“I don’t think she knows either.”

Eliza rests the shuffled deck onto the countertop and nudges it toward him. He hasn’t told her what game they’re going to play, and as Harrison searches for his necessary cards, the prickle of her gaze deadens. He keeps at task, combing each card and pulling out the needed.             

“I would’ve liked to know.” Eliza says this nimbly. “You look like her.”        

Another pick. “Every son wants to look like their mother. What a dream.”      

“I meant that as a good thing.”

“And I meant what I said as a bad thing.” 

What a way to end this update lol! 

I’ll be back soon with an update for the final chapter in this book! I hope y’all have been okay in these times, I know it’s not easy. Let me know what you’re working on!

--Rachel

[liam-93-productions]

Liam Payne, before the return of One Direction: music, fashion ... and Peaky Blinders?

All roads lead to the reunion of One Direction, the ‘boyband’ of the millennium. But when your solo parenthesis is joined by colleagues like Ed Sheeran or J Balvin, or when a firm like HUGO invites you to dump your creativity in their workshops, the rush evaporates, and between the success of the past and the success of the future appears The real success. And you go out on the cover of Esquire.

One day you believe something to write in Esquire and the other you finish an interview asking a 26-year-old person for his phobia of spoons. "To dirty spoons," they clarify. It is the type of previous information that you handle when you face a youth pop icon. Divided, like the arm of a starfish, from one of those boybands that simultaneously ignites and satisfies the adolescent fury of a generation at the planetary level. A nature documentary also evokes the way in which each part of that whole comes to life and dances across the media as far as possible from the other fractions, but always with an inertia like a universe that, however much it expands, irremediably it will contract in the future. “If we talk about getting back together, the question is not if it will happen, but when. And I don't know the answer,”confirms Liam Payne (Wolverhampton, United Kingdom, 1993), former member of One Direction and a spoon-hater. And he does it with more optimism than resignation. If both internal forces are not the same.

ESQUIRE: Do you have a WhatsApp group?

LIAM PAYNE: No, not really.

There is something fascinating in that intermediate time. Seeing round-trip groups such as Backstreet Boys, Take That or Jonas Brothers, this tendency to rise and fall is perceived, as if the solo success of one component leads to the failure of another. Call it quantum exchange of subatomic particles, call it bad generalized follá. But we could be before the exception. “We are the only band in history that has managed to get all its members to enter as soloists in the top 10 of the Billboard. If you think about it, it's a phenomenon.”

Liam fulfilled his portion of the milestone since his first single, Strip That Down, written by Ed Sheeran, whom he has known since he was 17. And now they repeat the formula (catchy pop + rapper) with Stack it up, their latest theme. “Ed has fun writing for me because he can throw messages that he doesn't get hit [in this case, the title refers to‘ stack ’money], and that’s cool. The best thing that can happen to you in life is for him to write for you, because he is literally the best lyricist in the world right now.” Between two songs another two collaborations were marked, one with Rita Ora for Fifty Shades of Grey and another with JBalvin, the Latin king Midas.

ESQ: Do you know who Rosalia is?

LP: No, not really.

Even without a full record in his five years of musical independence - he has just announced that it will finally go on sale on December 6 under the title LP1 - the singer has managed to maintain the idol status. With all that entails. The photo shoot comes with bodyguards and a generous troupe whose functions are perceived to underline a position in the industry that everyone knows elusive. Fragile. That can be reinforced or wobble depending on how certain controversies are surfed. (...) In fact, beyond the appalling professional parapet, he gives the feeling that he dominates his career with a very healthy tranquility and humor.

ESQ: Haven't you suffered in that transition? Because there are many artists who hit bottom when leaving their bands ...

LP: It was more difficult the first time the group took time, because it is hard to be accustomed to working so much, being, in addition, so young, and stopping suddenly. That is why there are many people who go through very difficult times when they have to retire.

ESQ: Has your perception of success changed since you were a soloist?

LP: Honestly, today I believe that success is based more on the idea of balance. Because there are times that you put too much focus on professional life and not enough on personal, and I had that inner struggle for a long time. Now they are balanced and I think I have never been so happy.

To that well-being contributes his capacity to sow the nebulous parenthesis of other experiences. Especially in fashion, thanks to his long-term collaboration with HUGO. Many of the garments worn in this report are from his own collection, whose design has been supported by great personalities. “One of the first friends I made in this world was Edward Enninful, the fashion editor of Vogue, and he takes great care of me. Another great friend is Kim Jones, the designer of Dior. He gave me the best advice: "This is like music: once you've had a success, you know what people want from you and everything becomes easier."

ESQ: You are also an image of HUGO's underwear. Is it more of a challenge for your physique or for your self-confidence?

LP: In 2019 it is not so much about showing off your body as it is about promoting that each one is as you wish. But I also did not want anyone to think that I am not posing in underwear, so I have worked hard. The gym is 90% of my work lately! The first photos with two fashion gods like Mert & Marcus have already come out and soon there will be more.

In addition to testosterone, Liam distills genuinely British irony and also a telegeny that brings him closer to another field to explore, the interpretation: “It requires that you focus entirely on it and I'm still too busy with music and fashion, but it's gone phenomenal in many castings and I feel that it is something good that is approaching.” In fact, as he explains in the header video, he was about to play a character in Peaky Blinders: "I had a meeting with the author of the series and I would have loved to do it, but it had to be someone a little older than me by the nature of the character, who was from my hometown, Wolverhampton." In this way, when the eternal return finishes closing the circle, this star will come to reunification with a round baggage. 360º, which Paquita Salas would say. Like the reflection of your face on both sides of a spoon. If possible, clean.