#it goes both ways most people seem to be disallowed from like

[jojossillywalk]

i sincerely need to put together a compilation post of polnareff backing up everything avdol says including him going like "Mr Joestar He Said Something" while simultaneously never being able to shut the hell up about "hey avdol can you drive this submarine" "hey avdol we've searched for three days how do you know that guy can do it" "avdol I Can Beat Iggy"

like polnareff strikes me as the kind of person who like Will bother avdol about "Avdol Why Do You Store That Many Pens And Pencils In One Single Pocket" for hours on end but if an unknown person looks at avdol weird Congrats There's A Scary Frenchman In Your Walls

[fandom-hoarder]

listen I have so many questions about Stanford Sam, like this kid who was raised in the wild, barely aware of acceptable social conduct arrives with his 2 ectoplasm stained t-shirts at his dorm and like ????? is he very aware of it at first? or does he think he's hiding it well? and like moving in with Jessica?????? he doesn't know how to water plants and that you have to pay electricity bills ??? Like obviously he's not stupid, we know that!! But there are certain things about ordinary everyday life that are just impossible to pick up when you're raised like that. And this is just surface-level stuff, like I feel overwhelmed just thinking about how many tiny things I do in a day, just normal life stuff that I've always done, that Sam would be like ???? so weirded out by, or maybe creepily fascinated ??? Would he try and copy everyone around him maybe??? and then all the odd things that he'd probably do !!! like just basic marine survival nonsense he's dad probably taught him applied in mundane life situations that would make him stand out and he wouldn't even notice !!! And he thinks he's doing fine, people seem to accept him, but then suddenly someone mentions like... TRL or something and he's like ??? and then Dean picks him up and it all falls to pieces, because it's so EASY and ingrained and he doesn't have to pretend and it puts it into perspective how not okay he was doing at Stanford even when it felt like he was ?? god I'm just rambling, like I barely even have headcanons, I'm just so overwhelmed by all the possibilities of how this would play out !!!!

Holy crap, first I wanna apologize if this has been sitting here awhile. The Ask notification location in settings instead of notifications on the app is so weird and I get them so rarely I don’t think to check. (and the website shows that I have 4 but this one is the only one it’ll show? How does tumblr work? Oh yeah, it doesn’t lol.)

Anyway, I have so many thoughts on this! But they’re not necessarily cohesive?! Like first we all know Sam is super smart. He’s curious. He’s inquisitive. But he’s also sheltered in weird ways. There are things he’s known about the world that most people would never know about, let alone kids his age at any given time; yet the existence of those things--and the understanding that therefore potentially anything could be real--also lends itself to keeping him childlike--he had an “imaginary friend” at age nine and believed in the Easter bunny through age eleven, which is much later than the average probably???

By middle school, he definitely would’ve been feeling the strains of his otherness around his classmates, even if they weren’t constantly moving around, but of course the nomadic lifestyle just makes it even harder.

I think Sam is a very observant person, though. He figured out something was up with their dad and The Truth at age 8! So people watching is Sam’s saving grace for getting along in the mundane world. He definitely learns to mask his otherness by mimicking mundane people.

And I get sidetracked here because then I start thinking about exactly how their childhood went. We know John used Pastor Jim and Bobby as childcare/parenting support to some degree. I don’t think we really know anything about Caleb, maybe I’m forgetting something, but my headcanon is that Caleb functioned as a “fun younger uncle” type to Sam and Dean: cool, responsible in a pinch, but mostly not given childcare responsibilities because of his wilding tendencies. (they learn swears accidentally from Bobby and John, but Caleb TEACHES them.) Sam and Dean didn’t even know about Missouri until s1, so she’s off the caretaker list. They had that babysitter they met up with in uhh... Swap Meat! But largely we assume that Dean had a lot of the caretaking responsibilities; maybe with temporary babysitters in other places the same as Swap Meat.

And lbh you just can’t expect well-rounded, informed child-rearing from a kid only four years older. There’s a reason I associate a lot of weechester flashbacks with Sammy watching TV like in Something Wicked, because literally little siblings are A LOT and sometimes you just want them to sit still and quiet and leave you alone for a bit omg.(wait, give me a minute, I’m imagining little 6 year old Dean on the phone with Bobby because John ran out for food supplies and isn’t back yet and Sammy is still asleep but Dean’s creeped out in the longterm room they’re staying in because he KNOWS about the supernatural already. but then bobby gets on John’s case about it--and instead of never leaving Dean alone with baby Sam again, Dean learns from John’s belt not to call anyone when he’s left alone unless it’s an ACTUAL EMERGENCY. Or maybe, because marine, John doesn’t use his belt; maybe he uses PT instead and every time Dean thinks about calling Bobby for that reason again, his abs ache from the memory of punishment situps, or his arms get suddenly shaky thinking about doing pushups til he just couldn’t anymore.)

I haven’t read all of John’s Journal, and I know it’s not actually canon, but IIRC the bits that I’ve read from the wiki show John and the boys staying with a family friend in Lawrence for a few weeks, MAYBE a few months before John visits Missouri and everything STARTS. I think if he hadn’t picked up and left with them then, the family friends would’ve been contacting CPS because they’re starting to think John’s grief is making him unhinged. (I really want to read the journal tbh--there are bits I’ve seen that make me fantasize even more about boyking!sam storylines... but I’m getting even more off track.)

So we’ve got this weird/interesting dichotomy of kids that are groomed with these hyperspecialiizations, too weird to really fit in with other kids but sheltered from the actual hunter life also--like the fact that there ARE other hunters, like as a THING, not just their dad’s rando friends that, as kids, they may just assume know about the supernatural because their dad told them! (jfc they’re SO PRIMED to be each other’s entire world omg I’m gonna die)

So like, by being quiet and observant (an imaginative kid, by nature and by nurture as John starts to take Dean out more and leave Sam alone with his own thoughts), Sam would pick up a lot of things. But they’re never anywhere long enough for him to fully grasp everything and he would definitely suffer a bit from the Dunning-Kruger effect--not having enough knowledge about a thing, but having just enough that you don’t realize you don’t.

Let’s say Sam observes and picks up some things about normal residential life by being around a few mundane babysitters. The nature of John’s “work” would mean that, even if they were in a more in-home-daycare-like situation, they’d be likely to be the “after hours” kinds of kids that are still there when everyone else is picked up and the babysitter would normally be doing their normal life stuff: changing clothes, cleaning up from the daycare kids, making dinner, etc (sam and dean would definitely help, either out of kindness or duty or because it’s agreed that if they help out John will get a discount on their care costs--don’t mind me, just projecting my childhood onto the winchesters hahh. I’m NOT going to go off on a tangent about Dean already having so much experience caring for babies cuz of Sam. He definitely doesn’t have all the under-4s following him around begging for attention while he burps one of the three babies their babysitter cares for after a bottle. it DEFINITELY didn’t make Sam (age 4, 5, 6 maybe) jealous enough to repress the memory so that over a decade later he would claim that Dean doesn’t even LIKE kids.)

Uhh... what was I talking about? Oh yeah, Sam. Observing normal life. Anyway so maybe after things settle for the day, sometimes a babysitter will sit at the dining table with the weekly bills and their checkbook and do the bills. And Sam kind of loves things like this: it feels like something important; it feels like playing school before he was old enough to go (quick aside here: John totally enrolled Sam in school early, both because that’s the only way his age works with canon timeline and because it would make life easier if Sam was in school just like Dean--more cost-and-time efficient.) And maybe Sam goes and sits at the table and just. Watches.

And then he asks questions. When he’s curious, he doesn’t keep his questions to himself as a child (unless the subject is expressly forbidden: see Dean’s reaction when Sam brings up Mary). But his age would inevitably limit the scope and understanding of those questions. Adults are generally disinclined to fully explain the adult world to children, especially when it comes to finances, and in the 80s and early 90s?? With most of the adults of that time that I knew, those kinds of questions were considered rude and nosey. He might understand that adults have to pay bills; he may even understand something about utilities; but he wouldn’t necessarily understand all the requirements and frequency.

Though their nomadic lifestyle wasn’t stable by any “normal” definition, one thing to be said about mostly living out of motels is that your power is never cut off, or your water, or your heat. There’s always television, usually with cable. And the only form of payment you see going on is dad handing over cash or plastic at the front desk--one and done. My headcanon usually disallows the idea that they would’ve squatted in empty houses when Sam and Dean were kids (John makes plenty of bad decisions but I just don’t see him staying in a place without power or water with CHILDREN. Teenagers? SURE.) They would learn how to clean house and make proper beds even when it wasn’t always necessary with housekeeping available--both because of John’s military parenting style and because John would be most likely to opt out of daily housekeeping to lower the risk of having people ask questions.

So yeah, there are so many little intricacies of the mundane world that Sam wouldn’t be conditioned to even think about. Even the realization that he doesn’t know enough about regular life, as he grows up and longs more and more for that very thing because he’s never had more than a glimpse of it, wouldn’t necessarily be enough.

Would his natural curiosity lead him to ask those questions? He can’t ask John because he already asked Dean and got a dismissive answer because ‘what does any of that matter, Sam? we’ll never have to worry about that shit.’ and if Dean seems borderline offended by the sheer audacity of the questions in the first place, he knows John will be worse.

In the 90s, life skills were still kind of a thing in most U.S. schools. But in a really inconsistent way. Sometimes it was in health class curriculum; sometimes your math class would actually do a short focus on balancing a checkbook and banking if there was a chapter, but a lot of times those parts get skipped. You never use the whole textbook. Sometimes life skills was only in Home Ec, but H.E. was completely elective in my area when I was in middle school (the same exact years Sam would’ve been in middle school) and I’m assuming the same for most of the U.S. Sam may have taken it, or he may have taken something else instead (wood shop or computer class were the alternatives in my area). Maybe the nature of school hopping meant that he HAD to enroll in Home Ec, because resources for the other electives were finite, but somehow always managed to miss the bills and budgeting portion. Maybe he couldn’t even take Home Ec due to class size or resources and they just put him in a study hall for that period. (Maybe they put him in the computer class, where he mostly does book work until he gets a turn on the PC he has to share with his classmate.)

As an observant person, Sam totally would’ve known about TRL, I think. There’s no way at least one group of kids in the halls or lunchroom wasn’t talking about it every day in high school, especially with the advent of Britney Spears and Eminem and Jesse freakin Camp. Maybe he goes to someone’s house to try to hang out or to study and they turn it on and Sam watches raptly because it’s such a strange phenomenon and he hardly ever gets to hear new music, much less watch the videos. But he can’t actually get into it because the fangirls are annoying and his analytical mind won’t let him suspend his disbelief about how the voting works. (Maybe he tries giving it another shot in their motel room sometimes, but Dean vetoes that bubblegum pop shit IMMEDIATELY--no Sam, look, that shit isn’t REAL music; most of them don’t even play instruments. And it’s really not fair because Dean TOTALLY watched MTV’s The Grind in the early 90s for his fix of suggestively gyrating bodies before he figured out how to access porn without getting caught.)

Sam and Dean actually make a LOT of pop culture references, which always fascinates me. I imagine they did a lot of TV watching and VCR/movie renting in the times they weren’t working on a case with/for their dad (projecting again; my dad’s house was a very boring place on his weekends). The nature of Dean’s idolization of John and disinclination to let Sam have his own separate likes means they have a mix of age-appropriate pop culture knowledge and a lot of Boomer-era TV and movie knowledge--Dean more than Sam, maybe when it comes to things like cowboy movies and TV lol.

Anyway, as the realization that he doesn’t really know how anything works crept in, maybe Sam would try to lowkey create situations where he could ask his friends/his friends’ parents those normal life kind of questions. But maybe after his first few tries, he’s become so uncomfortably aware of how weird he is to even need to ask that he stops asking. Maybe he starts to tap into his specialized skills and starts snooping/creeping around their houses to try to glean knowledge. Maybe he scours the library for books on ‘what you need to know for life’--I have the urge now to do a google search on actual titles of books on this subject that may have existed at the time, but I’ve already spent a lot of time on this without going into research spirals. lol Maybe he can’t find exactly the things that are pertinent--still doesn’t fully realize that, though--and in the meantime his cache of esoteric knowledge continues to build.

So he gets to Stanford and he mostly understands how the financing works; enough to get by with enrollment and stuff. He understands that he’ll need to get a job of some sort to make ends meet because he’s there to be normal and normal people don’t pay for everything with scammed credit cards and billiards money; he knows that much. But he doesn’t really know about wages, minimum wage, freaking payroll taxes, etc. (I feel like Dean would’ve had odd jobs as a teen, some legit some under the table, but that the nature of John (and Dean) wanting to keep Sam home and safe would’ve made the subject of Sam working through high school a banned topic. And anyway, much as I’m not a fan of the characterization in Drag Me Away (From You), what Dean said to Sam about the impossibility of getting into college with the way his academic career would look is accurate. So Sam would’ve probably spent most of his free time on academics so he could get the fuck out, rather than trying to get a job.

Maybe having to buy his textbooks would be a surprise? John probably always qualified for Sam and Dean to be on free lunch/free book programs in public school, not to mention the likelihood of the records being at least partially counterfeit. But at the same time, John was probably very hands off with their school enrollment crap once the boys were old enough to handle it themselves, so Sam would at least have an inkling.

Sam would be a weird mix of no-boundaries and too-secretive, and his first attempts at acting normal would be a bit too put-on. He’s got experience acting per 1x16 (oh, maybe he did drama instead of home ec somewhere lol), but acting on stage is so much different to acting in a more personal setting. On stage you have to exaggerate your movements to project all the way to the back. Early-Stanford Sam, I guess, is a bit like Soulless Sam. He knows there’s something off about him compared to the people around him, and he just does his best to pretend he’s the same as them without calling attention to his differences, which ends up coming off robotic. A little Stepford. A little uncanny valley. He learns to bite his tongue every time he’s about to let something normal only to his family roll off it; learns to be even more vague than he used to be, because now he’s around strangers ALL THE TIME.

At some point, Sam has a little-but-big breakdown about a payment he missed or the fact that he had to steal shampoo because he didn’t even have toiletries in his budget and couldn’t even afford a bottle of White Rain or Suave, so since he was stealing anyway he got the special brand he really likes and then feels too awful to even use it and doesn’t wash his hair for a week. Brady takes pity on the cute but hapless puppy-boy who is a physical and academic behemoth but has obviously been living off-grid on some kind of militia commune for the past forever--at first the rumor was that he was Amish on rumspringa but the amount of times Sam has busted out some supremely random survival knowledge in casual conversation changes that rumor quickly--and has no understanding of the world. And by the time he moves off-campus with Jess, Sam has this masking thing down pretty well; he can almost forget he’s not normal sometimes and Jess only knows about his previous helplessness in a cute, anecdotal kind of way.

And then Dean comes and gets him and Sam’s all “you and Dad still doing credit card scams?” and Dean’s like “well hunting doesn’t pay the bills.”

AND SAM’S LIKE, NEITHER DO YOU DEAN! DO YOU EVEN KNOW WHAT BILLS ARE?! BECAUSE I DIDN’T AND IT WOULD’VE BEEN NICE TO KNOW!

[justalads]

was l’manburg (and c!wilbur) xenophobic?

xenophobia: fear and hatred of strangers or foreigners or of anything that is strange or foreign

short answer: not really? it depends on a few things.

   (all c! and /rp unless specified)

   we’re bringing out the geopolitical roleplay analysis today!

   before i get into the xenophobia discussion, actually, i want to go down a bit of a side track: the take that the people of l’manburg were colonizers. i don’t think it’s a lot of people who say this, but whenever people list “colonizer�� as something that wilbur is, it always confuses me a little, as someone who watched the majority of season one live. there are two definitions for “colonizer”:

   (note: i’m going to be using dictionary definitions for most of these. this is purely in order to give the benefit of the doubt to people that use these words wrong. the definition of these terms that people generally accept often is slightly different, and holds more implications.)

1: a country that sends settlers to a place and establishes political control over it

2. a plant or animal that establishes itself in an area

   so, to be fair, the second definition does fit l’manburg. because it fits everyone on the server. everyone showed up and established themselves in the area. but if people are using that definition, why are we calling exclusively wilbur a colonizer and nobody else? why not the people who took land for their houses, when that was considered completely fine by everyone else? wouldn’t that make dream the biggest colonizer of them all?    the definition that people seem to be implying is more of a “moved into an area and took political control over it.” the question would then be: was the land of l’manburg previously inhabited? was there anything there before l’manburg? because “colonizing” something in the negative sense usually means there was already someone there. the people saying this are using it in the negative sense, because if they were not why would they use it at all and specifically to wilbur?

   it could be argued that the land was “dream’s” land, because it was his server, but then that calls into question his ownership over it at all, and whether or not it was legitimate. if dream “owns” the land of the smp, does he own the entire server? if someone goes out a million blocks, is that still “his” land? and why is it his? what gives him a right to it?

   it could also be argued that the land everywhere belonged to the server, as in everyone had equal claim to it all. however, nobody really had a problem in the past with anyone going “this is my house” or “this is my land”. in fact, the land that became l’manburg was kind of wilbur’s house (if you go back to the hot dog van stream, he says that he built it and he “lives” there.) nobody was there before him. it was his own space that he picked out of all the land. nobody on the server had any sort of previous attachment to the land, and there was nothing important there that everyone needed. the land was free. this sort of thing doesn’t happen very often in real life, because populations are usually already living in places that get colonized. this is not true for minecraft. another definition of colonization is this:

   “colonization, or colonisation refers to large-scale population movements where the migrants maintain strong links with their or their ancestors' former country, gaining significant privileges over other inhabitants of the territory by such links.”    basically, you can’t “colonize” your own land. l’manburg didn’t have any sort of real privilege over the other people on the server (they tried to enforce the rules but because they were physically weaker they were disregarded). while the word colonizer can apply in one definition to everyone, it is then kind of weird to use it just for wilbur, because it implies that he fits the other definition when he does not. the misuse of this word has become prevalent again, with fans on both sides of the las nevadas/snowchester outpost calling the other side colonizers. both of these accusations are incorrect.    so then, why did wilbur disallow americans from going into his country? why did he establish that rule, and doesn’t it show him taking “political control” over an area and denying others equal rights? doesn’t that paint him as a little iffy? does the “no americans” rule make him xenophobic?

   again, not really? it’s sort of complicated.

   the circumstances under which l’manburg was created are roughly outlined at about 1:47:23 in tommy’s vod “ TommyInnit & WilburSoot discuss their Empire Plans in Dream's Server.”

   (bold is wilbur, italics are tommy)

   “have you noticed something about the issue last time? when we were trying to just, you know, trying to get blaze rods and stuff. do you know what the issue was?”

   “what was the issue?”

   “right, so think of all the people that were good to us.”

   “tubbo.”

   “eret. fundy. tubbo, right? what do they all have in common?”

   “they’re all weak. weaker than us.”

   “they’re all european, tommy. i’m thinking we build a wall to keep out the americans.”

   “yeah?”

   “we’re gonna build a wall, on the server, and the americans are gonna pay for it. and we’re gonna keep them out of our land. because they— ruin bits.” (laughs)

   “cause they ruin bits?”

   “no, no, no, they just, we need to get rid of them. we need to keep them out.”

   “okay.”

   “so i’m thinking we build this wall, right. we get fundy involved— well okay, first thing we do, we rob the americans for materials to build the wall.”

   “if we do that, the second we do that, they’re gonna stab us and put us in jail and claim that they’ve won again. they’ve won the war.”

   “look, they can keep doing that, over and over again— the wall’s getting built. so we build this wall, right? and then what we can do in this wall?”

   “what?”

   “it’s our territory. we can make as many drugs as we want. the police have no jurisdiction on us there.”

   “okay.”

   ——

   “so tomorrow, we’re gonna build a drug empire?”

   “well— no, we’re just gonna make a country? and then the drugs will be legal in the country.”

   “how do you know that sapnap’s not gonna… i don’t know. you know what they’re like, man, how do we know they’re not gonna… make it a war?”

   “the thing is, right. how i see it is they can declare war, they can do whatever they want, but like. if we just ignore them and don’t acknowledge it, we win. we can’t lose.”

   “yeah, but they’ll just kill us. because that is what happened last time.”

   “we just don’t acknowledge them. ignore them.”

   “yeah, but there’s only so much ignoring you can do when— yeah, alright, alright.”

   “and then we win. we can’t lose, possibly.”

   “we make them pay, for what they’ve done wrong.”

   so the goal is to… make drugs. because drugs are against the law of the server, and they’re going to get the freedom to do drugs by making their own country, where the police can’t get them. they want to keep the americans out because as wilbur said, the europeans of the server were good to them. they keep talking about how the americans might hurt them. experiences with the americans of the server has left these two with a bias against them.

   the plans to steal materials for the wall are a parallel to the american border wall, maybe less of a parallel and more of a reference/joke since many of these words were never acted upon and the circumstances for these two things are different in an important way. that’s why legitimate comparisons of the american border wall and a roleplay between americans and europeans are not great: it disrespectfully equates two situations. wilbur and tommy joke about the wall throughout the first couple of streams. the aversion to americans that they have is sort of unearned for what they have done to the europeans at this point in time.

   the thing with drawing parallels between l’manburg and real life situations is that we have to take into consideration the power dynamics of the server. dream, sapnap and punz had a lot of power at this point simply because they had a lot of tools and armor. l’manburg had pretty much nothing. so why is the country created? one, to escape a law that they deem unnecessary, and to avoid being put in jail. two, because they have a negative view of the americans, and they want a place where they won’t be hurt by them. tommy says the thing about revenge, but nobody ever acts on it. it’s about safety.

   since the prejudice is there, i would say their words here alone could be considered xenophobic? i’m unsure, because it would be more of the “fear” part of the definition than the “hatred” part. the americans did do things to tommy and wilbur. their beliefs are not entirely unfounded. and then, of course, there’s the fact that once they begin to build the nation, the dynamic shifts entirely.

   like i said before, the americans hold most of the power in the situation. once the action starts and the americans begin to poke at the new country, their actions are harming the people there, therefore solidifying in wilbur and tommy’s minds that the americans want to hurt them. a story of “americans hurt people and the people they hurt want to get away from them” does not generally cast the people who want freedom as xenophobic.

   the americans do engage in acts of tyranny on the people of l’manburg. cruel treatment of citizens and no citizen input in the laws of the land fall under that definition. so at this point, we have people who are being harmed by their government. the refusal of independence and the unjust treatment define the americans as oppressors.

   oppression: prolonged cruel or unjust treatment or control

   when in history, we see those who were oppressed by americans (or anyone for that matter! the sides of american and european do not really matter here, the point is the conflict and relationship between the groups) we see their dislike and fear of the other group as justified, not xenophobic. when people and systems in real life are xenophobic, i feel as if the fear is more of a hatred and the basis for the hostility is misguided. those prejudices are also held with a sense of superiority over those they deem “lesser”, not fear of them (although fear can be a motivator for actions). the xenophobia is often held up by systemic power differences.

   if wilbur’s belief that the americans would hurt them was misguided, the americans should have done something to show them that. wilbur clearly expressed to the americans that he thought they were tyrannical and cruel, and they waged war upon him and his people, when they were pretty much defenseless. so then my question is what’s the point of calling them xenophobic, when their enemies were their oppressors?

   it’s like calling him a colonizer: sure, it’s true in a sense, but the way people use it is misleading, and it’s a heavy word thrown at a delicate situation. its untruth or exaggerated truth makes it slanderous rather than genuine and critical analysis. revolution is produced by injustice, whether real or imagined. it is hard for revolutions with imagined injustices to be successful, as the cause is not appealing. the injustice became even more real once the people of l’manburg expressed the desire to be independent, and were further harmed.

   making comparisons to real life things can be useful, but we should also be careful with how we do it. xenophobia and colonization are things that dramatically impact the lives of those oppressed, and while it’s not exactly directly harmful to those people to say something kind of stupid about a minecraft roleplay (this isn’t twitter, this isn’t something to be “cancelled” over in the slightest and i’m not trying to do that, just talking politics) it does show that people either misinterpret or want to shift the narrative of a political situation. basically, it doesn’t really mean anything, but if someone’s going to call c!wilbur xenophobic, they should think for a minute about why he had that prejudice.

   lastly, the words “tyranny” and “dictator” are also extremely misused. people who want to do political analysis should know what the words actually mean.

~ Lad 2

[mishapeesha]

hello friends! i have decided to start writing a fanfiction (although I am......not that experienced with writing, but I will trY)

anyways! the pairing is obviously deancas, and since I’ve just written the first chapter, the tags will be limited until I further develop the story. The rating will change if needed, trigger warnings will be added if necessary, and so on!

the summary: 

A package is mailed to Castiel Novak, a 27 year old with unknowingly very limited knowledge on a certain aspect of his life. It’s filled with what seems like hundreds of letters all to him, a single person. Memories and confessions of love are penned within those letters. As time goes on, he feels drawn to the person on the other end and sets out to find them – and the letter’s inevitable true destination that ties the final loose end in Castiel's life.

ao3 link!: 

https://archiveofourown.org/works/28625316/chapters/70161738

i would really appreciate any feedback, or just boosting this would be pretty cool too! 

for anyone that doesn’t wanna read on ao3, chapter 1 starts below!

September 18th, 1992

           Castiel’s chest bounced as he jogged down the stairs aligned in a wide spiral, his eyebrow quirked up in confusion as his doorbell buzzed repeatedly with barely a second in between every ring. He winced at the harsh sound of it, noticing how military-like it was in the way that the alarm went off. It was always a task of his to get it changed, but he never got the chance to. Either because he didn’t feel like it, or because his memory disallowed him to remember something as unimportant as a doorbell.  

           “Coming!” He called out to whoever bothered to show up at his house so early in the morning. Castiel paused beside the bookcase placed beside his door, glancing at the mirror in order to adjust the loose strands of hair that spiked in different directions with the frantic brush of his fingers. He let out a sigh as his gaze shifted towards the reflection of the wall clock behind him, seeing that it was barely 7:05 am. Just as he turned to face the door, that annoying noise rang in his ears once more. Maybe one day he’d go through with that mental task of changing the buzz to something more audibly pleasant.

           His fingers wrapped around the metal doorknob, and a click emerged as he swung the door open, being immediately met with a man who he had never seen in his life. His eyes quickly scanned over the man, noticing that he was in uniform, so he classified him as harmless. What damage could a mailman do? Hand him a letter and give him a papercut? Though there was a look on the mailman’s face that Castiel couldn’t quite place. He was torn between thinking it was some sort of discomfort towards Cas personally, or just general exhaustion because it could just be that he was tired. There wasn’t really anything enjoyable about driving to several homes, handing gifts to so many people while barely surviving off of minimum wage and receiving nothing in return.

           “Castiel Novak?” The man asked, shifting in his spot momentarily as he held a medium sized box underneath one arm, and a clipboard in the other hand. Castiel took note that his name was Thomas after noticing the nametag attached to the pocket on the fabric of his blouse.

           “Yes, that’s me.” Castiel replied, opening the door slightly more after feeling more comfortable to do so. He furrowed his eyebrows as he looked past Thomas, wondering if anyone was following him, or if they were being watched. They seemed to be alone, so Cas stopped tapping his fingers against the wooden door, although he hadn’t realized that he began to do that in the first place. “Is there anything that you need of me?”

           “Well,” Thomas began with a nod. He cleared his throat and placed the clipboard in between his legs to use both of his hands, and then offered Cas the box he held. “We’ve had this in the office for a while now, but it was specified to be delivered on this day to this address, and to you.” He explained, biting his lower lip in what Cas took as some sort of minimal panic, or uneasiness. “The sender wishes to remain anonymous, however.” He added, as if it were nothing unusual.

           “Anonymous?” Castiel questioned and drew a frown onto his face. He shook his head and reverted back to closing the door, but he kept a smaller gap so that the two of them could still communicate. “I will not be accepting a box from someone who doesn’t wish that their identity is revealed. It could be anything, and I am not willing to risk my safety.” He deadpanned before he glanced down at the box, not trusting whatever was in it. Why would anyone refuse to mention their name unless they were someone dangerous and not to be messed with?

           Thomas stared at Cas for a few moments as he was now met with the confusion of what to do with the box now that the apparent receiver was blatantly rejecting it. He swallowed hard as an uncomfortable smile curled the corners of his mouth.

“Mr. Novak, I can assure you nothing that will hurt you is in this box. Not only is it very light, but it would also be a shame if this was thrown out. As I mentioned, this has been collecting dust in our office. It has been for the last four years.”

           Castiel froze at Thomas’ words, struck with surprise. He had absolutely no idea who sent the box, what was in the box, or why it was sent in the first place. Cas was Cas. The person he spoke to the most was his brother, and even then, he barely saw Gabriel to begin with. They spoke less and less as the years passed, and so Castiel was alone for the majority of the time. So, he couldn’t quite process how he had a package delivered to him, when he knew his brother barely had the energy to stop by his house for a quick hello. He was a generally distant individual. An outsider to himself, his family, and others.

This did not add up.

           “Four years you say?” He asked, tilting his head to the side as he looked between Thomas and the box, earning a nod in reply. He sighed in defeat and once again, opened the door. “You really can’t tell me who sent it? Surely you must know.” Cas said, raising his eyebrow as he finally decided to take the box from Thomas’ hold. “It isn’t heavy.” He pointed out in confirmation to what Thomas previously stated, now more so curious to know what he was sent rather than worried.

           “I’m not at liberty to say. I’m sorry.” Thomas responded and rubbed the back of his neck before he remembered to pull the clipboard from between his legs. “Could you sign this, please?”

           Castiel took the pen and scribbled a random signature on the piece of paper, nodding at Thomas who offered a small smile at Cas. “Thank you.” He murmured quietly, clutching the box to his chest.

“Of course. Have a good day.”

           “And you as well.”

           A creak erupted from the door as Castiel let it close on itself, and eventually the atmosphere fell back into silence. But suddenly, he became almost hyper-aware of his surroundings. He couldn’t tell whether it was his actual heartbeat that he could hear, or if he was overhearing some rhythmic beat from his neighbor’s home nearby. And he definitely grew irritated at the loud ticking sound of the clock on the wall that seemed to follow him as he dragged himself through the hallway to the living room.

           The walls seemed to follow his every movement, making Cas feel judged and uneasy. And just for a moment, a sense of guilt rose in him. There was no source for it, yet there was some inexplainable physical tug to what Cas held in his hands, allowing negative emotions to faintly flood into him. He was convinced that his thoughts echoed off those same walls, as any word spoken in his mind just sounded too intense and loud in his ears.

           Cas sat down on the couch, sinking into the mattress as he leaned forward to place the box on the coffee table in front of him. His bottom lip became a victim of his anxious habits where his teeth would peel at the loose, dry skin, drawing blood that lightly pooled into his mouth and presented a metallic taste.

           “What could you be?” He spoke out loud to himself, picking at the loose thread poking out of the couch. He exhaled and used his nails to tear off the tape sealing the box shut. It looked like an average box, which made any assumptions as to what could be inside completely impossible to Cas. It’s not like he expected a bomb to be inside, but he also didn’t expect a proper gift. So, then what? What made a box so big, yet so light at the same time? What was so important that it absolutely had to be sent to Cas four years later?

           Once he managed to tear the seals off, he took in a deep breath. He didn’t know what he would be getting himself into, and yet he knew there was absolutely no way he’d be able to keep himself from looking inside. So, before he knew it or could hesitate, the box was opened, revealing the last thing Cas would have expected.

Letters.

Lots of them.

           “What the hell..?” He breathed out, flipping the box over so that the letters scattered out across the table. His eyes widened in both confusion and shock, and he immediately reached to pick one up. He examined the envelope: Clean, neat, and numbered with a bold 30 on it that was also in the colour of purple. There was no stamp. There was no name. Just a singular number, and nothing more than that.

Or it would be nothing more if he decided to keep the envelopes tightly secured.

Curiosity killed the cat, didn’t it? Though at the same time, he really did have nothing to lose. A dance with death was the least of his current concerns.

By the look of things, it appeared as though there was a certain number of letters in the box, labeled from one to an unknown limit. For all that could be known, there could be fifty letters, a hundred, or a thousand. He doubted he’d read all of them, because what could possibly be so interesting that the writer thought it was imperative that Cas knew?

The bigger question was, who wrote them?

Castiel shuffled through the envelopes until he found the first numbered 1 in red. His mouth went dry, and his brain raced with questions that he had no answer to at all. He hated being blind to the truth, to be instead engulfed in a mystery, like his life was some sort of game. He wanted to know what was going on, and he wanted to know now. But given all that Cas was presented with, he knew it would be a long time before he knew what was actually going on. It could be days, weeks, months. All depending on how much Cas read, and how fast.

He fiddled with the letter in his hand, debating whether or not to open it. He had to. He could just read this one and throw the others out. And maybe he’d get the answers he needed in the first envelope, making it possible to ignore the others.

The paper ripped beneath his fingers, and soon enough, he held a paper in his hands. The first out of many.

Quickly, his eyes scanned over the words written, immediately blocking them out because he refused to jump too far in what was visibly so carefully put together. He wanted to take his time and appreciate the effort put into all of this. But he did take notice of the handwriting. It was a combination of neat and messy. Definitely readable, and a little too familiar. It was nice, simply put. But Cas could sense the desperation in the way the words were written. They were rushed, and well thought out of as well. Like whoever wrote knew what to say, just not how to say it.

Dear Castiel,

Knowing you, you’re probably freaked the hell out right now. And... Well, you should be.

Cas frowned and scoffed, rolling his eyes at the paper. Already, the letter was referring to him, and he had no idea about who was writing. Clearly, off to a great start.

Or not. Actually, don’t freak out. You don’t need that. Anyways…grab yourself that weird coffee that I know you like and get comfy.

What I’ve done here for you is write a hundred letters. Or I’m planning to, at least. Hopefully I commit to this. I guess if you’re reading this, I’ll have succeeded, so yay me, I guess. But I want you to really read them. To understand it all because there is so much that you don’t know. About me, about you, and more importantly, about us. I know you might be scared-

Castiel looked away and shook his head, setting the letter down on the table causing it to fold in on itself with how long it had been creased for. He rubbed his forehead and sighed, mumbling something incoherent underneath his breath. Not even halfway through the first letter, and Cas was already overwhelmed. Everything in him begged him to stop reading, but he couldn’t stop himself from reaching back towards the piece of paper and picking it up once more. He was certain that would be a decision he would regret in the future.

-and that’s okay. Fear’s good. Sometimes, at least.

Please, hear me out, alright? I need you to keep an open mind. You gotta, man. Or else this won’t work. I don’t mean to put on a show and get all dramatic, but I need you to level with me. To feel with me, and to get angry and hurt whenever you feel like it. I need you to bust open your damn walnut, and pull me out of that chest that you’ve got stuffed in there somewhere.  

Cas, you may not know me now, but I know you.

I’m writing this on September 18th, 1988. We met five years go..I don't really know when you'll get this. Could be ten years from now. Guess we'll see.

I need you to remember.

Work that big ol’ brain of yours and try to not be the dumbass that you tend to be. It's my fault you're in your current situation, but you need to try. If not for me, then for you.

We haven't spoken in so long, Cas. And saying I miss you won't change a damn thing because you don't even know who I am, but I do miss you. And you can take that however you want for now, but you'll understand it all eventually. If you decide to actually go through with this and read all that I've written for you.

“Situation?” Castiel asked out loud, as if he’d get a response. Of course, he was met with silence. But he still had no idea what was happening. He didn’t know what any of this meant, but he did know this had the potential to ruin his entire life. In fact, it felt like everything started slowly tumbling down already.

And yes, he had nothing. But was it worth the loss?

I’ll tell you everything. No plot-holes, not shit-holes, or whatever. All I ask is that you read. It’s that simple.

That’s all for now. Sorry for the short first letter. I’ll see you soon.

-Dean W.

“Dean?” He whispered, and at that, his chest knotted tightly as he took in a shaky breath. He widened his eyes and wheezed, an uneasy feeling creeping its way up his chest. So, the writer had a name. One that Cas mentally did not recognize, but he physically did apparently.

What the hell did the "W" stand for? He didn't know. Or rather he couldn't remember, according to what the letters were saying.

He set the letter down and stared at the others, scratching at his arm as he eyed the unorganized mess that had now grounded him in his place. Out of all of the things he could have received that day, he just had to get what was probably the most confusing thing he had ever been confronted with.

The possibility of fault grew, and all Cas could do for now was allow himself to become engulfed in the non-existent voice of a series of letters that he was yet to understand, and so rightfully dreaded.

[primasveraas-writing]

Rey x Mando!Reader Headcanons

Request: Rey x Mandalorian reader headcanons? Maybe with sum slow burn enemies to friends to lovers? 👀👀👀

Thank you!

XXX

As a Mandalorian, you are nothing if not independent

The First Order clearly stands in the way of everything you believe. Their iron first of control is a direct threat to your independence, your way of life, and the galaxy as you know it

So once you realize that standing on your own against their regime is ineffective for the most part, you offer your services to the Resistance

You don’t wish to be a fighter on the ground, or “one of them,” per se. But you have a unique set of skills that they can use as they so wish

It’s here, of course, that you meet the hero of the movement, Rey. Between the two of you, there is a mighty skill set and you are often paired together for this reason

 Part of you had still hoped that you’d be able to work alone, even as a representative of the Resistance, so you don’t plan to make friends with Rey

She’s too happy. You don’t have anything against happiness, but as a general rule, you’ve found that people who are overjoyed all the time don’t have a tangible grip on reality

Not to mention she doesn’t seem to realize that you can take care of yourself. Or, for that matter, that you don’t want to hug her any time something goes right

She’s simply a presence that you tolerate, you tell yourself. And certainly nothing more

Even so, you make a deadly team. Despite the fact that Rey seems to pull punches more than you ever would, your precision and efficiency together is unmatched

But one day, Rey crosses a line. In her attempt to save someone, she entirely undermines you, using the Force to pull your target out of the way. As a result, your blaster bolt misses, hitting a fuel tank and altering everyone in the vicinity as to your location

You take on more fire than you should, and Rey still doesn’t manage to save the Imperial she was trying to spare

When you make it back to the base, you finally vent your true feelings. Rey hardly lets you yell at her for long; before you know it, you’re in a screaming match on the tarmac with everyone around you staring

You both stalk off angrily, and when Rey manages to talk to Leia in the hopes of finding comfort, the general tells her that you’ve already requested to work alone or with someone else from now on

For the sake of maintaining some calm in the Resistance, Leia obliges

You hardly see Rey from then on. Occasionally you’ll brush by each other, but your helmet disallows any true eye contact, and for that, you’re very grateful

However, her closest friends try and convince you to apologize or make peace. Finn is particularly defensive, and Commander Dameron attempts to make you see that working with Rey again is what’s best for the Resistance

Yet you refuse outright and begin working with whoever Leia assigns you with

Maybe Dameron has a point, you admit reluctantly, because missions are never the same after that

No one matches Rey’s brilliance or skill. No one is as intuitive or perfectly matched to your fighting style

And maybe, just maybe, you miss the way she could make you smile underneath your helmet, where you could safely enjoy moments of her presence with the safety of her never knowing this fact

So you complain less than expected when weeks later, the general tells you that out of necessity, you and Rey will be paired once more for at least one mission

You’re working together perfectly again without a second thought, even if Rey refuses to talk to you for the duration of the journey to the planet you’re operating on

And on the way back, your heart aches. Nothing has come close to this feeling since you last parted- the adrenaline from a thrilling and successful mission, the excellent cohesion of your combative strategy, the way that Rey seems to make the whole universe come alive in the heat of battle

Finally, you open your mouth to apologize. Rey is silent throughout, but you promise to give her a better chance, and she nods and smiles

Your friendship begins that day. The two of you are paired on missions again, and you're even more unstoppable than before

This is, in part due to the genuine connection that quickly forms between you. In accepting her friendship, you actually deign to spend time with Rey and her friends

It's the first time Rey hears you laugh

She won't admit it until months later, but she loves the sound

You even allow some of her hugs, but it's a boundary that's slowly broached

You see for the first time that Rey's positivity and happiness comes from triumphing over hardship and seeing the best in others rather than naivety and ignorance

This is one of her most admirable qualities. As a Mandalorian, you've been taught your whole life to view the galaxy cynically, to expect little from others and keep what's yours close to your chest

Rey breaks that mold ingrained deeply within you. It's like the sun shining through the darkness, and you realize that you enjoy this change more than you could have ever imagined

And in turn, your opening up to Rey about Mandalorian culture gives her an understanding of your perspective. Your realism seems close to pessimism, but it's not without reason. After all, Mandalore has a long history of hurt, violence, and betrayal. Even after generations of change, it's a hard thing to shake

It's a quick fall after that. Rey opens your universe to so much light, and although you'll never be quite the same as each other, you both relish the balance you bring to your relationship

Rey is irresistible. From her laugh and smile to her true and pervasive kindness, her beauty shows, and your affection deepens by the day

You're pretty sure she feels the same way. Her hugs become longer and more constant, and she squeezes your hand whenever you're near

Plus, making her blush and laugh is a favorite pastime. Your bravery in battle also happens to translate to courage with flirting

It's enough that people roll their eyes when you turn on the charm for Rey. You're witty but not subtle, and that's what makes your tactics so effective

It works. You're alone together, having meandered as you talked to outside of the base. It's just you and the trees and the hum of life around you

You take off your helmet, and Rey beams. It's not unusual for you to reveal yourself like this, but it's a sure sign of your comfort anyways

You reach out to grab Rey's hand, and she offers a lovely smile in turn, not objecting when you pull her close to your chest

She responds enthusiastically when you lean in and kiss her at last

[love-takes-work]

Steven Universe Podcast: The Fantasy of Steven Universe

This is an outline of the Steven Universe Podcast regarding “The Fantasy of Steven Universe”: an issue of the podcast in which the creators and writers discuss a multitude of deep issues, along with some Q&A from both fans and insiders. No volume number or episode number was given for this one. The official description:

It's the last new podcast episode of the season and we asked the cast and Cartoon Network Executive team to submit questions to Steven Universe creator Rebecca Sugar and former Executive Producer Ian Jones-Quartey! They tackle everything from design to wormholes to escapism to advice to your younger self and dreaming big. Then former writers Matt Burnett and Ben Levin sit down with Rebecca to discuss lessons learned, achieving goals, and what they hope people take away from the show. And finally, Kat Morris and Joe Johnston return to answer a last batch of Fan Q&A!

This is a long podcast with a long summary, so as usual I will give you a bulleted list of highlights, followed by a detailed summary.

Highlights:

Many of the show’s themes and important elements were there right from the beginning--all the way back to the pilot.

Rebecca Sugar comments that she didn’t really learn how to have fun until 2016.

Figuring out how to pace the show out and reveal each piece of information at the right time so it could support another later revelation was very exciting to the writers. They had the pieces laid out like a puzzle on their table.

Mostly self-contained episodes still gave the audience a piece of information or represented growth for a character. The less “plotty” episodes helped keep the energy up.

The Crewniverse knew that their titles were sometimes trollish, but Ben was honestly surprised that people expected apocalyptic happenings for “Last One Out of Beach City.” It was just a Less Than Jake reference.

Rebecca really enjoyed getting the chance to “damsel” Greg for the Zoo arc; she really wanted to use a lot of princess tropes, even that one.

Viewers should take away from the show messages of compassion, self-love leading to ability to connect with others, ability to understand and listen to others, and opportunities to see themselves as well as to see others.

Rebecca has drawn all of Fluorite’s component Gems, but all she’ll say is “they’re fun.”

Lars and Lion are not immortal, but they will live for a very long time and have slowed-down lifespans. Kat Morris says Lars may have no sense of taste; that if he eats it’s just for sustenance.

Lars has all the same powers as Lion. He can indeed do a sonic blast and make portals and walk on water. They weren’t able to work this into an episode we’ve seen, but Rebecca assures us that Lars will discover his abilities and it will be “really funny.”

The Crew had specific voice actors they wanted for the Diamonds. They got who they wanted cast by writing excited letters. Susan Egan’s was particularly weird because she had to play Tiny Floating Whale first.

Blue Diamond was the most difficult Diamond to design because her hair was hard to decide on. Rebecca’s influences for her were Martha Graham’s “Lamentation” dance and Fruma Sarah’s ghost from Fiddler on the Roof.

Yellow Diamond was mostly directly inspired by Patti LuPone’s performance as Evita.

White Diamond was influenced by many old-timey vibes, including Hedy Lamarr in Ziegfeld Girl and the artistry of Nell Brinkley. She had heavy eyelashes and fingernails--lots of design elements they did not incorporate into other characters, so she could adhere to old, “stifling” beauty standards.

Rebecca was disappointed that reveals of Pink’s full jester-like outfit got out before we saw it in the show. Her hair was originally higher in early designs, which contributed to her mural having spikier hair.

Greg is based almost entirely on Tom Scharpling; Rebecca was comforted by his voice when she had upheavals in her life. There’s also a little bit of inspiration from various Crewniverse dads in him.

Another Gem could have a hybrid child like Steven only if they had enough power to do it and the complete commitment to the idea that Pink had.

Steven and his “Gem self” are not really separable and can’t exist independently of each other. His Gem half will not remain if his organic half dies. They are one being. He will likely have a very long life because of his Gem powers, but (though the Crew agrees this is grim), he will probably die before the Gems do.

The Jade Fusion won’t be in trouble anymore once the Jades come out of their bubbles; in Era 3, the act they were punished for is no longer disallowed. However, the trauma of being isolated and then punished as soon as they felt it was safe to fuse may require some healing. Rebecca assures us they should be able to have the opportunity to heal and be okay.

Obsidian definitely has future vision powers. In fact, they’re expanded to the point that the noise is difficult to interpret; very powerful, but difficult to get anything useful with them.

Pearl became a more maternal character because of her voice actor, Deedee Magno Hall, being “such a mom.”

Zach Callison as Steven was so genuine and professional to work with, and the vibe in the booth with regard to him was closely mirrored in the show.

Sometimes Deedee’s or Michaela’s ways of interacting with Zach would influence how Pearl or Amethyst would interact with Steven.

People would give lots of space and reverence to Estelle when she was reading her lines, which parallels how the other characters treat Garnet.

Only Steven can take anyone or anything through the pink space connected to Lars’s hair and Lion’s mane, but yes, Steven could take Lars through Lion’s mane, and if he stuck his head out, there’d be infinite Larses sticking out of infinite Lars’s hair until he pulled his head back in.

Designing new characters requires lots of back and forth and hundreds of drawings. Rebecca asks “why,” not “what”--why are you including something in a character’s design? If it doesn’t contribute to who they are, why is it there?

Influences on the show that may have been missed by some fans include G.I. Joe the animated series, Future Boy Conan, and Mr. Bug Goes to Town.

In response to Deedee requesting a fusion between Pearl and any of Rebecca’s childhood favorite cartoons, she suggests maybe either Bart or Detective Conan, then says she’ll have to think about it and get back to Deedee.

Advice Rebecca Sugar might have given her younger self was that it would be okay and she’d get to tell the story she wanted to tell--but also that she should eat, drink water, and exercise.

One profound thing Rebecca learned while working on the show was that she can be out and bisexual regardless of who she’s with, and that it DOES matter.

One profound thing Ian learned while working on the show was that the story you want to tell doesn’t have to be constrained by the medium--and your fantasy story isn’t necessarily someone else’s fantasy. You can tell your story.

The detailed summary is below!

[Archive of Steven Universe Podcast Summaries]

McKenzie kicks the podcast into gear and starts by asking Rebecca Sugar, Matt Burnett, and Ben Levin about the intentions for the show: what did they think it was going to be, and did it end up being that?

Ben shares an anecdote about how their agent seemed to have thought Steven Universe was based on Rebecca's comic Pug Davis, but then they saw the animatic and it was completely different from what the agent described. Matt felt that the themes and certain important elements of the show were already there from the animatic at the beginning. They were excited to see the show even if they might not end up getting to work on it, and they could tell just from the pilot that there was a lot of mythology to be unearthed. One of Ben's expectations that did not pan out was that he thought there would be more dungeon crawling episodes, but that was not the reality because . . . it turns out episodes like that are really difficult to do.

As for Rebecca, she says she had many goals for the show, and one thing she likes to do with projects is make them about something she hasn't truly figured out yet. The big thing for Steven Universe in Rebecca's mind was the issue of gendered cartoons for children. She felt uncomfortable growing up, because socially she was expected to like what girls like but her favorite things were "for boys," while "girl" cartoons did NOT appeal to her. She felt guilty and weird about it, and so with her cartoon she wanted to attack that at first, use and scramble the language others had used to put her in that position. As she worked on Steven Universe more, she realized that some of the things she wasn't allowed to love as a kid were things she DID love. Learning to understand herself better allowed her to build a better relationship with the symbols and elements of children's cartoons that she could have authentic feelings about. She feels she learned a lot.

Next, McKenzie wants to know which episodes were the most fun to write (or throw ideas around for).

Rebecca quips that she did not learn to have fun until 2016.

Ben says he and Matt had fun though. Their job was to take Rebecca's ideas and figure out how to squeeze her thoughts into 11 minutes. Ben thought it was important to reveal something new about a focus character in each episode. Rebecca thought it was exciting to pace out what to reveal when; she says all the elements were on the table "like a giant puzzle." They had to carefully place when we would understand each thing as the audience before they could do something that built on it. She felt it was "like painting a picture across time." You couldn't do something like "Change Your Mind" at the beginning--you needed all those pieces to get it at all.

Putting yourself in the audience's mind as a writer is important, Ben says. Infodumping doesn't work, and laying the groundwork before you start a story isn't the best way to make a story meaningful. Matt thinks the big story payoffs at the end of season 5 were discussed in the first two weeks of planning, and they all thought it would be so cool to finally get there.

The things that were the most fun were actually the deviations from those stories, though they kept with the themes. The "random idea" episodes that felt more like one-offs were responsible for keeping the energy up, according to Matt. "Steven and the Stevens," for instance, was pretty self-contained (and needed a diagram to keep it together). Rebecca points out that "self-contained" episodes were mostly the goal, but you'd still see a change in the character or get an important piece of information in each one. Steven is LITERALLY not the same character anymore after "Steven and the Stevens."

Weaving the "infodump" stuff into Steven's personal growth was important for the type of story they were writing. They also joke about how certain episode titles were very trollish, like "Last One Out of Beach City" and "Rising Tides, Crashing Skies." (Both of those were definitely NOT "apocalyptic" at all.) They were aware that titles could send a message, but Ben was actually really surprised at the expectations surrounding "Last One Out of Beach City" because for him it was just a Less Than Jake reference. ^___^

They also enjoyed getting to do whole new environments with mini-worldbuilding, like the human zoo. The zoo arc comes up and Rebecca remarks on how much she enjoyed "damseling Greg." She really wanted to do pretty much every princess trope in some way, even that one, and she just loved having the opportunity to have Blue carry Greg away "just like Peach."

McKenzie next asks the group what's something they want people who have watched the whole show so far to come away with at this point.

Ben says he's not sure about others, but he feels the show lets us take home messages of being in touch with your genuine feelings and expressing what they are. Matt agrees with Ben about how the show helps viewers learn to see others' perspectives. They hope people had the opportunity to see themselves represented on the show, and that some people got the opportunity to see representations of people they'd never seen before--and that those people who were newly exposed to folks they'd never thought about before would learn to be more compassionate.

Rebecca wants people to come away with the notion that they must learn to love themselves. That it is close to impossible to connect with others if you haven't learned how to love yourself. Kids deserve to be able to express themselves as long as they aren't destroying themselves or others in the process. She thinks sometimes kids are sent destructive messages about how it isn't okay to be themselves, and that people they trust might be shutting them down, but this show is a message to say it's wrong of them to do that and they deserve the freedom to be who they are and say so. Being allowed to talk about how you feel shouldn't be some kind of fantasy. It should be reality.

The next segment of the podcast involves Kat Morris and Joe Johnston answering fan questions with Rebecca Sugar!

Q: Has there been any thought as to what Fluorite's Gem components are?

A: Joe just immediately says "NO" and Kat teases him, but Rebecca speaks up and says of course she has drawn them all. She gave it to Colin and then says "I don't know where it went." The only thing Rebecca is willing to say about it is "they're fun."

Q: Are Lars and Lion immortal now? Or is their aging process just extremely slowed down?

A: Kat agrees that their aging process is just slow. About as slow as Lars's heartbeat in "Lars' Head." Kat points out that she and Joe have disagreements about what Lars's life is like. She thinks Lars probably lost his sense of taste and only just eats occasionally to sustain his body. Rebecca says "they'll live a really, really long time," and Kat says "longer than they'll want to."

Q: Can Lars do the Lion roar warp thing, or does he have his own power?

A: Kat says he can! They tried to write stories around it but never quite did it. Kat jokes that he can do it if maybe he gets tickled or something. Joe says he can make a warp and he can make a sonic blast with his voice. When they discuss whether he's figured that out yet, Rebecca replies that he WILL figure it out at some point, and when he does, "it'll be REALLY funny. Don't worry about it." They speculate that maybe that's how Lars was getting around doing space pirate stuff (infiltrating the Citrine asteroid and the Cosmic Jubilee), but there's also the fact that he doesn't have a Gem and can't be scanned. They also specify that Lars can indeed walk on water.

Q: Does Lion have the ability to sense Steven somehow? Or did he find Watermelon Steven some other way?

A: Rebecca claims they're in tune, but you can't really pinpoint whether it's magic or whether it's just that animal sense some pets have.

Q: How did you pick the Diamonds' voice actresses?

A: Kat says, "begging?" Rebecca says they knew who they wanted and they agree they wrote passionate letters. Rebecca tells the story of bringing Susan Egan in to do Rose's voice for the first time, but the first time you hear her voice was coming out of the Tiny Floating Whale. Susan did the little "ooo!" noise for it as well as the one line that's spoken in "Rose's Room." She had to explain that Rose was very important later, but for now she just wanted Susan to come voice the whale.

Q: Which Diamond was the most difficult to design? Which was the most fun to design?

A: Rebecca says Blue was the most difficult to design. They took a long time deciding on her hair and what would be "inhuman" about her, and there was a lot of trial and error involved. They actually revealed her cloaked form in "The Answer" before they figured out her hair. Rebecca feels that White might have been the most fun because they had to incorporate so many influences. They're all really influenced by tons of things though: for instance, Blue is influenced by a Martha Graham dance ("Lamentation") and the ghost (Fruma Sarah in a dream) from Fiddler on the Roof.

Yellow is very inspired by Patti LuPone in Evita.

White is inspired by Nell Brinkley and Hedy Lamarr (in Ziegfeld Girl)--the aesthetic of the time, really.

White has many design elements that other characters don't have. The heavy eyelashes, the fingernails, the "perfect thigh gap"--she's supposed to be very different from the others, with "beauty standards" that you haven't seen on other characters, meant to be read as stifling and old. She's even on an actual pedestal with shoes that are actual pedestals.

For Pink, Rebecca describes it as "kind of devastating" that even though we'd gotten the first reveal of Pink when she punched a mirror in Stevonnie's dream and was "contorted with rage," the audience got to see her on a model sheet with her full outfit "looking like a little clown" and people kind of got it instantly. Designs for the Diamonds go back to 2014, though Pink's hair was a little different and "looks like a Truffula tree" according to Rebecca. (Joe says that's why her mural looked spikier, because the early hair designs for Pink were higher.) Rebecca was really excited when they nailed down Pink's hair to look like Steven's hair. Rebecca was excited but Kat was scared.

Q: What inspired you to make Greg?

A: Tom Scharpling! Rebecca used to always listen to Tom's radio show (The Best Show) toward the end of college and she based Greg's character on him. She says Tom is currently doing a thing where he's reviewing every episode of Friends. She felt that during a tumultuous time in her life, moving from New York to LA and being apart from Ian, Tom's voice was a constant and a comfort. On his show, Tom is "more cynical" than Greg, but she describes him as only being mean to meanness, and that even when he's mean it's a "force for good in the world." Being angry is fine as long as you're directing it at other things that are mean, helping to cancel them out. She finds Tom inspiring, and thinks Greg is sort of the result of that cancelled-out meanness. Rebecca also adds that Greg has a lot of her own father in him, and she believes the other Crewniverse folks probably pull in elements of their own dads to write him.

Q: Would another half-Gem/half-human fusion like Steven be possible for another Gem besides Pink Diamond?

A: Pink Diamond couldn't fuse with humans--Steven's unique that way. Pink obviously created Steven (not through fusion), but now Steven is the result of that process and he exists sort of as a bridge. He can fuse with humans because of his humanity, not because of his Gem. He would actually be able to pull other humans into his Fusions with Gems, but he'd have to be there to preserve that connection.

Joe interprets the question a little differently, saying he thinks they're asking whether another hybrid might be possible, and Rebecca says it'd be possible only for a Gem as committed to it as Rose was. She specifies that Rose obviously had the immense power of a Diamond as well as that dedication, so if some other Gem that had a similar level of power and a similar interest in creating an organic child wanted to do it, okay, they could.

Q: If Steven were to die of old age, what would happen to his Gem half?

A: Joe hates this question. Rebecca agrees "that's so grim." She says that Steven is Steven, and he is NOT Steven when he's broken into two pieces. There isn't one without the other. Kat thinks Steven wouldn't die unless he chose to (and might do that if everyone he cared about was gone). Joe apparently hates existential questions and Rebecca sort of comforts him saying the Gems will live and live and live, and that Steven will probably die before them so he won't have to be stranded alive with no friends left.

Q: Is the Jade Fusion from "Together Alone" okay?

A: Yes, she's fine! Rebecca says she got poofed like many other characters have been before, and probably bubbled for what they were doing, but in Era 3 what they were doing is no longer wrong. They will emerge and be allowed to be themselves. Rebecca says, though, that there's also a question of whether they're okay as a person, and that what they went through is really hard to go through. She felt so isolated all that time, and then as soon as they got the courage to emerge in front of other people for the first time they were punished for it, so in that sense she's really kinda not okay. She will have opportunities to heal from her traumas, though, and her future is bright.

Q: Does Obsidian have future vision powers?

A: Rebecca says "Yes" decisively. The others chime in to agree. Rebecca says Obsidian's powers are overwhelming and difficult to handle all at once, though with many components they also have support handling it. The future vision Obsidian experiences is so overwhelming it's almost worthless because it's like noise--it's expanded and cacophonous.

Next, Ian and Rebecca are answering questions submitted by the cast and Crewniverse!

Q (from Zach Callison): What aspects of the characters are inspired by the voice actors?

A: Rebecca says the biggest one is how Pearl became more maternal because of Deedee's influence. She's "such a mom."

The interaction of the cast in the room worked its way into the characters' interaction. She also says Steven's growth from childish to mature for his age came from Zach growing up with him. She describes him as professional, insightful, thoughtful--enough such that adults could take cues from him or aspire to be like him. Ian thinks Zach was really interested in the process and very open to learning from other actors. Steven as an empathetic character was enhanced by Zach's genuine personality. Others who worked with him would be inspired and excited by him, which worked for the authenticity of Steven's vibe too.

Rebecca also noticed that sometimes Michaela or Deedee would cheer Zach up or egg him on, and the way they did those things differently also informed the characters of Amethyst and Pearl when they'd be in similar situations with Steven. They also noticed that if Estelle was there for a recording, everyone would stop and give her space to do her thing, which turned out to be very appropriate for how the others act with Garnet sometimes.

Q (from Matthew Moy): Can Lars go through Lion's mane and vice versa? Would they just fall right back out if they entered?

A: Rebecca points out that she actually answered this recently on the Reddit AMA! First, she wants folks to remember that Steven is the only one who can bring anyone or anything through mane space. Yes, Steven could take Lars into Lion's mane and go over to Lars's tree, but if Lars were to stick his head through the grass there, Lars's head would come out of his own hair. But this would cause infinite Larses to come out of infinite Lars's Heads, until he pulled his head back out.

Q (from Estelle): When you come up with new characters, how much time do you spend revamping the look of each?

A: It's a lot of time. Hundreds of drawings. Ian describes a process of coming up with early characters who didn't have a spot in the story yet, and they'd come up with random looks for them, and then they'd narrow down what specifically that character would need when they learned where they would go. Elements that mean something are retained and elements that do not mean anything will be swapped out. Boarders and designers would all take a crack at the design afterwards. Rebecca says that by the time boarding is happening, they need the character's "shape language" to be nailed down. Rebecca also mentions that many designs just get shelved if they're not really working, like some of the designs for Sardonyx did from before Rebecca realized Sardonyx would be a bombastic nerd, not a stoic and imposing presence. Even after they discovered that, though, the tooth gap was a later addition. Rebecca finds it helpful to ask "why" instead of "what" in design. Why is someone designed the way they are? Everyone will work together to create a design that blends form and function. She usually starts with rough sketches that they'll build off of as a starting point.

Q (from Michaela Dietz): With all the references to other shows (Gurren Lagann, Adventure Time, Revolutionary Girl Utena, etc.), what's a reference fans may have missed?

A: Since they pull from SO many places, it's hard to say, but Ian points out Future Boy Conan (Rebecca identifies a scene where the Quartzes run through Pink Diamond's body as a particular scene that's similar), and Rebecca says the rainbow worm from the Kyanite Colony is inspired by Orbitty (from the 80s Jetsons) and other ugly aliens from the time that were influenced by E.T. Rebecca points out Mr. Bug Goes to Town, an obscure film that nobody really watched because it came out on D-Day. Then Ian mentions the G.I. Joe animated series, how they referenced "It's all a fake-a-roo!" from that. And "Frybo" was a reference to The Thing.

Q (from Deedee Magno Hall): If Pearl could fuse with one of Rebecca's childhood cartoon favorites, who would it be, what would their weapon be, and can we see a drawing?

A: Rebecca says this is REALLY hard because she liked so many cartoons, but she just throws out Bart. Their Fusion would have a skateboard with spikes on the front. Maybe the Fusion would be named Part or Bearl. Or maybe Detective Conan; the Fusion would have all those gadgets. She decided she'd have to keep thinking about it and she'll give Deedee an answer.

Q (from Conrad Montgomery): If you could go back in time to give yourself a bit of advice as you started on "Gem Glow" and the rest of the series, what would it be?

A: Rebecca says she would tell herself to drink more water and exercise, and don't forget to eat. She thinks maybe she would tell herself it was going to be okay, because she didn't know that at the time. She says it may have been helpful at the beginning if she could have known she'd get to finish the story she wanted to tell. She was always anxious that her show would be yanked and she wouldn't get to finish what she'd dreamed up, but she did. She also feels like she was so young at 25 to be doing what she was doing, and maybe she'd like to just turn herself into a 31-year-old.

Ian thinks the show became what it was because of what they were learning along the way, though. If you really could tell people ahead of time what the things they're making are going to turn out like, you don't get to understand the process of something coming back wrong and learning how to deal with that. They feel that created a lot of what was good about the show, the debates and discussions. Rebecca is not sure she would have just said "trust yourself" because sometimes she trusted her team and was grateful for it.

Q (from Rob Sorcher): What is the one most profound thing you learned about yourself as a result of making the series?

A: Rebecca says she didn't understand she could be bisexual and be out. She thought declaring your orientation was about who you were with, not about who YOU were. So even though she was telling stories that spoke to feelings she'd had about partners or potential partners who were NOT Ian, she didn't realize she could claim that and care about that, mostly due to the fact that she'd been repeatedly and strongly told it did not matter. But it does matter. How you feel about yourself and how you experience attraction is a relevant and important thing to be able to embrace. She felt like she was "insane, all the time" because she wasn't supposed to talk about it or was told it wasn't interesting. She was floored when people she had connections with still wanted to be friends with her after she started talking about it, and being open about this aspect of herself has made being alive much easier.

If something matters to you, it matters, period. In terms of cartoons, the incredibly gender-segregated way they were doled out to kids in the 80s and 90s had an effect on Rebecca, and for a long time she didn't know why she so desperately wanted to "scramble" that. She finally found ways to discuss how uncomfortable she was being told that she had to be a woman when she was not. She realized through making her cartoon that though she had plenty of wells to pull from, this particular well was one she hadn't been able to speak about, so she did it through this medium and chose this as one of her stories. It's certainly not the only one she has to tell. She reiterates that she is bisexual and nonbinary, and though the language for that might change in the future, "that's what's going on" with her.

Ian's "profound thing" was that he realized you can share a message without being limited by the expected confines of your medium. For example, he knows that if he claims to be making a science fiction/fantasy cartoon, people will have preconceived notions of what that means, but maybe for some people, a major fantasy is just being told it's okay to be who they are, or living in a world where being who they are is okay. You don't have to worry about whether your reasons for making this art will satisfy someone else's reasons for watching it. Rebecca agrees, and says other people's "escapist" fantasies seemed really one-dimensional to her, never satisfying what SHE would like to escape to, but she realized she'd been holding contempt for escapism in general because of that, which dissolved when she was able to explore hers. There is a place for her, there is a dream she can have, and she no longer resented other people for having theirs. Sometimes a fantasy is about even getting to dream in the first place instead of just being fed these ideas of what you're supposed to want.

Everyone should get to have a dream and say it out loud.

[Archive of Steven Universe Podcast Summaries]

[huilian]

In The Coldest Time of Year

AO3 Characters: Damian Wayne, Dick Grayson, Stephanie Brown

Summary: why is it so hot down here? However, even though he is overheating from the warmth of this version of the Robin suit, his toes still manage to be freezing inside his boots. How is that possible? He is overheating already, but his toes are freezing. Why anyone would voluntarily live in a region that has winter baffles Damian

A/N: Happy new year, people! Have some Damian in his first winter! Let's just ignore the canon timeline and let me have this, okay? (and maybe this fic is for me to process also living in winter for the first time ever. But what's a little projecting issues to fic between friends?)title from chant (hadestown)

*

Damian toes the half-melted snow with his boots again. He knows that his boots are water-proof and are insulated to stave off the cold, but he somehow could still feel the wet, cold slush seeping into his shoes anyway. He knows it is irrational. Robin’s gear is one of the best, if not the best, in the world. There is no chance that the cold, half-melted snow could get into his boots. But he still feels it.

He tries to stay up on the rooftops tonight, even as far as not jumping into fights he normally would be ecstatic to jump into, but even the rooftops are not safe from the half-melted, dirty slush of Gotham. Gotham’s slush is dirty even on the rooftops. Nowhere is safe.

It didn’t help that yesterday night was snowing and freezing cold, but tonight is warm. Well, warm for Gotham’s standard, anyway. It is above freezing, so it’s warm. That’s the standard for Gotham. But it meant that some of the snow from yesterday melted, but enough is left to mix with the melted snow and the dirt and grime of Gotham to create a truly disgusting concoction. It also meant that Damian had overdressed for the night, choosing to wear the warmest version of his Robin suit, the one that is designed for freezing conditions. He was freezing yesterday because he didn’t expect the weather to be that cold, but today he is overheating because the weather manages to change so drastically over the course of one night. Truly, Gotham winter is a fickle beast. Damian resolves to check the weather just before leaving for patrol every night. It would not do to be freezing one night and boiling the next night.

However, even though he is overheating from the warmth of this version of the Robin suit, his toes still manage to be freezing inside his boots. How is that possible? He is overheating already, but his toes are freezing. Why anyone would voluntarily live in a region that has winter baffles Damian.

(Technically, he also voluntarily lives here. But his father lives, lived , here, so it’s not like Damian is the one who chooses the area.)

“Tt.” That is really the only thing Damian can do to respond. He cannot pretend that he is not overheating, because he is, and he also cannot pretend that this situation is not affecting him. How is it that he is overheating in Gotham’s winter? Damian was raised in a desert. He should not be overheating in Gotham’s winter, no matter what he wears!

His toes, on the other hand, are still freezing. Why is his body betraying him like this. He was trained to withstand the most extreme of situations, but this is what got him? An overly warm suit and half-melted snow?

“Come on, Robin.” Grayson nods at him. “Let’s finish up this patrol and then we can go back.”

“I’m fine, Batman.”

A snort. Damian supposes he deserves it. That sentence could not fool even the most foolish of children. He, Damian al-Ghul Wayne, Robin, is not fine.

“Come on. Just a couple of streets left now.” With that, Grayson grapples to the next building and promptly lands on a puddle of slush. Damian winces. Grayson does not seem to think anything is amiss. Damian sighs. On with it then. It doesn’t matter that the slush is going to feel like it’s seeping into every single seam of his boots. Batman went, and so Robin has to go too.

Grayson truly does not care about the dirty, filthy, disgusting puddles as he flew above Gotham. Mayhaps Bludhaven was even worse. Damian had heard stories about the filthiness of Bludhaven. If the slush at Gotham is already this dirty, then Damian shudders to think about the slush at Bludhaven.

Then suddenly, Batman stops.

“Robin? Go back to the Bunker. I’ll finish up the rest of the patrol on my own,” Grayson said. He is standing in a way that Damian now knows is to cover whatever horrific scene is in front of him. As if Damian had not seen horrific scenes before.

Normally Damian would pester and argue with him, and sometimes Batman even relented. Tonight though, Damian is not looking forward to spending more time in the very, very, warm suit while simultaneously freezing his toes. So he just says, “Come on, Batman. You know I can handle it.”

It is a token protest. Damian was not as condescending as he could be, and also not pushing as hard as he could have. Both he and Grayson know that. So Grayson just gives him another snort and pushes him towards the direction of the Bunker. After another grumble, Damian goes without further protest. He really cannot wait to peel the suit off and put his feet in warm, fuzzy socks that Pennyworth somehow acquired for him.

(He is not complaining. Those socks are very comfortable, especially during Gotham’s winter.)

Damian takes a different route to go back to the Bunker, hoping to avoid the disgusting slush on top of the buildings. He really shouldn’t have bothered. Every single building on Gotham has those filthy things on top of them.  But at least this time he can swerve around the worst of it, instead of trudging head-on towards it like Grayson did.

“Robin!” He hears Batgirl calls out. “Where is Batman? Why are you alone?”

As he looks back towards the source of the voice, he notices that Brown also trudges heads-on towards the disgusting slush like Grayson did. Why are they like this? Those things are disgusting. Even if they could not feel it seeping through their boots’ seams, surely they must know that trudging head-on towards it would cause the puddle to splash. And who knows what are inside those puddles. This is Gotham. Even fresh snow could not be trusted to not have some truly disgusting things inside of it, much less days old snow that is already mixed with all the filth of Gotham.

“I don’t have to explain myself to you, Batgirl.”

“Of course you don’t, you little brat.” Brown has managed to catch up with him, purely by virtue of disregarding whatever it is she is stepping into. That is the only reason she manages to even touch his head, in an attempt to smack him. The only reason. “So? Why are you alone?”

“I thought I’ve made it clear that I don’t have to tell you anything.”

“Yeah, you did. You just have to tell me everything .” Brown smiled a truly mischevious smile. Damian does not want to be on the receiving end of that smile. He remembered perfectly well what happened to people (Drake) on the receiving end of that smile. “I’ll ask you again, Robin. Why are you alone?”

“Tt. Batman wanted to do a case alone. He sent me back to the Bunker.”

Brown looked at him with understanding in her eyes. Sometimes Damian forgot that she used to be a Robin too, as brief as her time was. “Yeah, they do that sometimes. That’s not all there is, though, is it Robin?”

Damn it. Sometimes Damian forgot that she used to be a Robin too. That means Brown also got all the training every Robin got, including deduction and also, lying. Grayson might well send her here to make sure Damian went back to the Bunker.

(Not that Damian particularly wants to go somewhere else alone. Right now he just wants to get out of this suit.)

Damian looks at her. She looks back.

“I’m overheating in this suit and I can’t feel my toes,” Damian finally confesses.

“Wait, you’re overheating and freezing at the same time?” Brown frowns. “That makes no sense.”

Damian gestures with his arms. “That is exactly what I am thinking. How can I overheat and freeze at the same time? Winter is stupid!”

“Let me get this right. You’re overheating and freezing at the same time? In all parts of your body? Buddy, this might be a conversation you want to have with Batman instead of me.”

“What? No!” Damian grimaces. “I know perfectly well about the human reproductive system, thank you, Batgirl. I wore the warmest suit today but it’s not cold enough for it so I’m now overheating in my suit!” Damian can feel himself gesturing excessively, but he finds that he does not care. “But my toes are freezing because this disgusting slush is everywhere!”

Unlike Batman, Batgirl does not have the mystique that disallows her from laughing while wearing the suit. Brown exploits that very much now. The ring of her laughter can be heard blocks away.

“Stop laughing, Batgirl! It’s not funny!”

“It’s -hnnn- very - pfft- funny!” Brown manages to choke out between her bouts of laughter. “The high and mighty Robin, defeated by his own suit!”

“Stop it!” Damian hisses out. Brown does not stop.

After she finally stops laughing, this is what she says. “Have you never thought about doubling your socks? I’m sure you have more than enough socks to do that, Robin.”

“Doubling. My socks.”

“Yeah. Wear two socks at once. It’ll keep your toes warm, and if you decide it’s too hot after you start moving on patrol, you can always take one of them off. Layering, Robin. Don’t tell me you don’t know that?”

“Tt. Of course I know it, Batgirl.”

“Sure. That’s why you didn’t do it now.”

“Tt.”

They stayed there for a few moments. If the rooftop was not full of slush, Damian would have sat down there and he knew Brown would have too. It was nice to see that even Brown would not just sit down on the disgusting thing that is slush.

“Robin?”

“Yes, Batgirl?”

“In all seriousness, though, layering is the way to dress for winter. Because if you get too warm in the day, or night, I guess, you can always take it off. And..,” Brown stops here for a second and then shrugs. “ Well, I guess you don’t have to worry about that one.”

“What is it?”

Brown sighs. “It’s cheaper to buy thin socks and layer them up rather than, let’s say, buy a thick, high-quality wool one.” She shrugs again. “Like I said, you don’t have to worry about this one.”

Oh yeah. Damian forgets that Brown does not have the kind of funds and resources that the rest of the family has. But she is working with Gordon, and Gordon has her own funds, right?

Brown must have somehow known what Damian is thinking because she ruffles his hair. “Don’t worry about it, kiddo. Come on, let’s get you back to the Bunker. Wouldn’t want to risk Batman’s wrath, would we?”

“Tt. Race you there.” As soon as he said that, Damian ran, disregarding his freezing toes to take the most effective route. The prospect of beating Brown, and also that they are only a few blocks away from the Bunker, defeats his dislike of the still disgusting puddle.

“Hey! You little brat!” Damian can hear Brown shouts from behind him, as he most definitely is leading the race.

(Damian does wear double socks for the next patrol, and he checks the temperature before going out to patrol.)

[cupidmarwani-archive]

(5/13)

After that surreal encounter with Ava in the gardens, Saturday breezes by so quickly that Sarah’s wondering if it even happened at all. In the blink of an eye, she’s gone from that magical moment between the two of them under the peaceful night sky to a stylist putting rouge on her cheeks as Natalie sews her into her wedding dress. Two hours, and she’ll be at the altar. Someone else will come in after Natalie’s finished to do her hair. And then she’ll be led to the cathedral, where they’ll be married in front of a crowd, and rushed to a reception in the gardens.

With some arguing yesterday, Sarah convinced her father to disallow the photo op beforehand in favor of just taking photos at the ceremony. She’s tired. She wants this over with. Spending the morning taking photos instead of enjoying her last few hours of peace as a free  woman just wasn’t appealing, and that extra time has helped her get a little more rest and bury her frustrations in sketching out the scenery from her window view. She’s going to be married.

“The dress really is beautiful,” she says. It’s all that she can. “Thanks, Nat.”

Natalie makes an affirmative noise, and that’s the most reaction Sarah gets from her the rest of the morning. No one is really talking to her this morning. They’re all too stressed out and afraid of upsetting any of the guests for the wedding. One of the princesses from Ava’s family struck Ethan in the face this morning. She wanted him whipped, maybe killed, but Sarah stepped in to protect him. And no one has even explained what he did wrong. 

She hopes that Ava won’t be so harsh, especially not with the help, but there’s no way of finding out now. That will have to come after they’re married. She hates everything about this. Especially as Ethan walks her to the cathedral, and she can see the bright red handprint across his face in a crisp reminder that he did something to upset the Bekker royal family. Everyone in their kingdom will know. Sarah’s father will yell at her again later about it, but what matters is that Ethan’s still beside her and okay.

“I’ll be right beside you the entire time,” he tells her, too softly for the maid lifting her train from the ground to hear. “It’ll be okay.”

She wishes she could believe him, but Sarah is a realist, so she merely nods and keeps her steady walk to a wedding that will be her end. Ethan walks her down the aisle, too, because she takes the “groom”’s place at the altar to wait with the whole wedding party until Ava is escorted in. Ethan doesn’t stand with her. Her bridesmaids were chosen for her, ladies of the court in plain sleet grey dresses with bouquets to match Ava’s bridesmaids in a pale pink. The rows of pews are filled with esteemed guests. Someone is playing soft wedding music that fills the high ceilings. Now they’re just waiting for Ava, which takes a few awkward minutes before the music gets louder and one of the princesses- young and sweet faced, but decked out in jewels and finery- casts petals down the aisle as Ava follows. No one walks her down the aisle. She goes by herself. And she’s stunning. Bright red lipstick that matches her dress, a gold tiara inlaid with rubies, and lashes so dark and heavy compared to before that they simply must be false. Sarah thinks she has some as well. The stylist did glue something to her eyelids that’s left them feeling heavy. 

Unfortunately for her, Ava is ethereally beautiful, a vision out of a dream as she takes her position right in front of Sarah, smiling a little and her bright eyes so easy to get lost in. It’s killing her. She knows what sort of people come from Jenia, and yet, it’s hard to see that when Ava seems so stunning and kind and Sarah doesn’t have to look at the mark on Ethan’s face.

The vows have been written for them, recited by the officiant in an impersonal ceremony as they each whisper an ‘I do’ and Sarah tries to pretend that this isn’t happening. She’s torn between wanting to run out of here before it’s permanent, and being just enthralled by Ava’s beauty and the way her lips curl around the vow. But she’s been distracted, and suddenly she’s told she may kiss the bride and Ava’s hands are on her waist. Pulling her closer. Tilting her head to the side just so slightly. Sarah’s never kissed someone, and maybe this is a bad time to start, but hey, nothing she can do about it now. 

Beneath the waxy glide of lipstick, Ava’s lips are soft and her grip is tender, like Sarah is fragile. She’s never experienced anything like this before. But it’s good, it’s good, and she could drown in it if they weren’t surrounded by other people and Ava didn’t eventually pull back looking entirely too pleased with herself.

“Oh.”

Ava laughs at her and takes her hand. The rings are there, bright and heavy, but that’s not as important as being led out of the cathedral, trailed by the wedding party and a handful of guards. Sarah tries to head toward the gardens, but there’s a faint tug on her hand as Ava continues to follow Ethan.

“I thought the reception was in the gardens?”

That smile. Ava’s little smug smile. “Yes, but we consummate before the reception in my country.”

Great, everyone will be waiting for them to have sex before the reception starts, and they’ll all know what happened, and Sarah will have to figure out the intricacies of how to even have sex with another girl when the only experience she has is using the showerhead to take care of herself on a boring night. She doesn’t know shit about how to make someone else feel good, let alone the apparently high-maintenance and experienced woman taking her to her room.

Ethan pats her shoulder as he opens the bedroom door for them. Before it shuts, she sees the whole wedding party leave, so at least they won’t be standing outside her door and listening. Watching was a mistake, however, because when she turns around, Ava has made herself comfortable on Sarah’s bed with the scarlet skirt of her wedding gown hiked up out of the way, knees bent and legs spread to reveal the barest hint of panties that of course match her dress and lipstick and jewelry. It’s all about coordination.

“I haven’t done this before,” Sarah begrudgingly admits. “I don’t know how to…”

“I’ll guide you. Come on.”

Reluctantly, she kneels on the bed between Ava’s spread legs, and she knows enough to ease the panties off her. That part is easy. But then she’s looking directly at the warm, soft space between Ava’s legs and she wants. What she wants, she doesn’t know entirely, but she wants and she looks up at Ava’s face to try and snap herself out of this stupor that has started to cling to her. In answer, Ava grabs her wrist and pulls it close, presses her fingers against her where she can feel how slick and hot she is to the touch. It’s like her own body, but different. And Sarah’s never really explored her body with her own hands, so the territory is still fairly unfamiliar. She seeks out Ava’s clit and applies just a little pressure with her thumb, making little circles and listening to Ava’s sweet little sigh.

“Good, just like that. Have- have you ever fingered yourself?”

Sarah shakes her head, but has to verbalize it anyway because Ava has shut her eyes and let her head fall back against the pillows, the picture of seduction. 

“Okay, Just- put two of your fingers together, and can you- move down a little, press harder-” The tips of Sarah’s fingers sink into Ava’s pussy, and she forgets how to breathe despite not being the one on the receiving end of the pleasure. “Perfect. Just fuck me with those, hmm? And- and keep touching my clit.”

Demanding, but Sarah doesn’t mind because her motions may be clumsy but Ava is evidently enjoying herself and there’s a warmth pooling in her own stomach that has her trailing her free hand into the waistband of her slacks. And as she touches, she has to watch because there’s something absolutely intoxicating about watching her fingers push into Ava over and over again, seeing as well as feeling how wet she is and the way her thighs start to shake. God, she’s perfect. So perfect.

And as Ava gets louder, can’t keep still, Sarah is more insistent with the hand on- in? Ava as well as the one she uses to touch herself, and it all builds higher and higher without stopping until the moment that it’s too much for both of them. She stops touching herself. Ava pushes her away. Her hand is so wet, glistening in the light with sticky strands connecting two of her fingers, and an impulse in the back of her head has her licking them clean. Slightly tangy, slightly sweet, thick in her mouth and downright addictive. She wants to do it again.

But then Ava is standing up and smoothing her shirt, struggling to hold her balance as she cleans her smudged lipstick and messy hair. Their kingdoms wait in the gardens for the reception, and Sarah’s struck dumb when Ava takes her hand and leads her away.

@bipeteypie​ @one-chicago-hell​ @bookreader525​ @sarahreeese​ @sextonsharpwinhalstead​ @isthiswhatshameis​ @jorgerules​

[mensbodybuildingtips]

The Mind-Muscle Connection: Mindfulness and Strength, Intensity, and Muscle Growth

Is there a 'mind-muscle' connection? Can it actually assist you develop much more muscle mass and strength in the health club? Continue reading to find out!

The mind-muscle link has actually been prominent for decades, and the phrase prevails when referring to the 70's bodybuilding greats such as Arnold, Frank Zane, and Mike Mentzer.

Today, some folks take a more evidence-based approach to activity in contrast to relying upon just how the muscular tissues feel as well as looking for the pump. While I agree that we should not always goal for the pump as our primary objective, it shouldn't be totally ignored for different reasons.

Today we're mosting likely to speak about the principle of mindfulness, and ways to use it to your training for more muscle mass, greater intensities and much better workouts.

What is mindfulness?

To put it as simply as feasible, mindfulness indicates to beconsciously familiar with the here and now moment.

I don't imply to seem new-age-y, but this is an idea the majority of individuals do not speak much about. It's not because it's worthless, yet mostly because it's something we rarely ponder.

Mindfulness is concerning focusing on whatever you're doing, and also being marketed out to that activity in that really minute, refraining 3 jobs at once. It's not writing an e-mail while hearing the radio, and also changing backward and forward in between your Gmail, Twitter and facebook tabs, while washing the recipes, and also vacuuming.

Mindfulness, for many Westerners, is an international concept due to the continuous disturbances we face.

But I come birthing good information - if you're reading this, you're most likely in the health club regularly, and if you have any interest in enhancing your body, as well as getting stronger, the fitness center is a wonderful area to practice mindfulness in the means I'm concerning to explain.

In short, mindfulness + an excellent training program = much better outcomes. Period.

If you've ever found yourself going through the motions, specifically in the fitness center, this one easy concept could make your exercises infinitely more delightful, as well as a lot more beneficial.

Let's first speak about how to apply mindfulness in the health club in 3 easy steps.

Pick an activity you're proficient at. It could be anything - the bench press, crouches, tricep extensions, wrist curls, no matter, simply see to it you understand it well.

You'll choose a weight you can do at the very least 12-15 times.

Cut your representative rate by concerning one half of exactly what you generally do. Yes, I'm talking to all of you who have actually obtained utilized to utilizing energy to sling that disallow up to your belly throughout rows, or jumping bench off your breast for a brag-worthy bench press. This might imply doing about 70-80% of the loads you're used to.

Now you'll carry out the activity with an emphasis on obtaining at the very least 12 representatives while focusing on every little facet of just how it feels.

Let's state you're doing an EZ bar curl. Exactly how does the bar really feel in your hands? As you get your biceps, where do you notice the most stress? Do notification how the bar rate reduces as you get closer to failing? Just how does the stretch at the lower setting feel?

See what I'm obtaining at right here? I desire you to take notice of whatever taking place throughout the activity, but particularly, the fatigue, stress and high quality of contraction.

Don' t pay focus to anything else at this factor except for exactly how the activity really feels. Notification exactly how pumped your arms obtain as you near the 12th associate, and after that maintain going if you can. Go up until failure, and also cannot hit an additional rep with full array of motion.

NOTE:This is undoubtedly a POOR idea for movements like heavy squats, presses, as well as deadlifts. For these movements, I suggest preventing maximum failing, and quiting simply except the moment when you have one associate left. Hang it up then. TL, DR = keep one rep in the tank.

If you could do this without thinking of anything else, you have actually successfully made the mind-muscle connection, and also alas, practiced mindfulness with movement.

Okay, okay so why does any of this matter?

Idea # 1 - Stamina Doesn't Constantly Equal Size

I'll preface this statement with the obvious. A lot of beginners need to concentrate on obtaining more powerful, and also more effective with their exercises. The novice desiring to obtain larger could often depend on that including weight to the bar will certainly aid them acquire much more muscle.

However, this isn't true permanently as well as here's why.

Raw strength is about moving as much weight whatsoever feasible. Several individuals will inform a newbie to add 100 pounds to their squat over the next 6 months and assure they'll have obtained extra muscle mass consequently. While this is frequently true, there are several methods to include weight to the bar without developing any kind of differences in the amount of lean body mass you carry.

For instance, most individuals can draw even more weight from the flooring when utilizing a catch bar, or sumo-style stance rather than a conventional design deadlift. Why? The difference in take advantages of, hand placement, as well as various other elements influence what does it cost? weight you could lift.

So let's return to my factor over. If a newbie begins with full variety of activity back squats, as well as shifts over to low-bar box crouches halfway via their training over 6 months, they're not truly adding 100 pounds to the very same lift. A low-bar squat commonly permits you to lift more weight due to the modification in angle as well as leverage. This also goes for the person that begins with a full squat and finishes up with a fifty percent squat from aiming to add weight also quickly.

This is also why a skilled powerlifter can out lift a bodybuilder of the exact same elevation and also physical characteristics (similar joint dimension and also muscle mass stubborn belly length) by a couple of hundred extra pounds as well as be much smaller sized in comparison of lean body mass levels.

Power lifters and also toughness athletes discover means to relocate the most weight, and also bodybuilders find ways to hire one of the most muscle via short pause as well as quantity, despite the weight lifted.

The take-home point: Strength is an excellent indicator of progression, but just when it's done via a complete array of movement, as well as with excellent form.

If you wish to be larger, and more powerful, you ought to discover to be individual, and focus on excellent movement high quality in contrast to raising as much weight when possible.

With smart training as well as time, both muscular tissue as well as strength gains will certainly be yours.

Idea # 2 - If You Have An Activation Problem, Be More Mindful With Your Movement

Time and also time again, I hear people whining that a certain muscle isn't as shapely as they would certainly like, while the various other muscular tissue groups seem to be growing simply fine. This generally boils down to a couple of things. It's either their capacity to turn on the muscle correctly, or genetics.

Most frequently, it's the initial component, as well as once that's discovered, genes will certainly determine the sizes and shape you could achieve with excellent training, a great deal of food, and also time (I recognize, I'm hitting on this once more). Turning on any specific muscle mass takes practice, as well as paying very close attention - which is all the extra reason to exercise mindfulness with your training.

For some, various other muscular tissues make up for weaknesses. It's not uncommon for individuals to have weak glutes from way too much resting, or a weak top back triggering rounded shoulders due way too much pressing rather than pulling.

If these weaknesses are not addressed, the bordering musculature will continuously take over, and also leave the unactivated muscle mass as they are, weak and also little. To battle this, we have to take the appropriate strategy to activate said muscles, and relearn the motor patterns necessary to obtain them functioning exactly how we want them to.

For the individual with a weak collection of buns, larger deadlifts, or bows is rarely the response. Rather, an extra focused technique and also activity choice to concentrate on the glutes is a better use of time, at the very least till they excel at shooting that modest set of love muffins (glutes for the those with no wit).

So just how do we do this? Specific activation drills, better movement option, and alas ... patience.

Getting someone to trigger their glutes can be troublesome if they're not made use of to bending them negative young boys. You have to concentrate on the lighter, much more separated motions such as single leg glute bridges, hyperextensions, as well as kick backs.

Movements that compel one to pay interest to the muscle mass they're making use of, and also focusing on that feeling, as opposed to something outside like a specific tons they're aiming to strike, could aid one learn exactly how to appropriately discharge and turn on a dormant muscle group like the glutes (or anything in certain).

The very same goes for a weak top back, or a chest (or shoulders) that fails to be turned on throughout a bench press.

Finding a motion that permits you to eliminate your ego, and also focus simply on the muscles being worked is a good initial step in discovering just how to obtain the activation required for full recruitment, which generally results in a totally functioned, and tired muscle.

Idea # 3 - Understanding all this with your existing routine

Okay, so I have actually harped on some ideas for being much more mindful, yet exactly how can you put all of it with each other and get something from it?

Like this: Let's take your present routine. It does not matter the length of time you've been doing it, but the much longer, the better due to the fact that the newness will certainly have disappeared, as well as you'll be in a regular of going through the movements.

I desire you to take notice of your next training session than before. Instead of concentrating on just how much weight you'll lift, I want you to dial it back to concerning 80-90% of the prepared loads. Remember just what I claimed at the start of this item regarding focusing on how that curl bar really felt in your hands? Well this is just what I desire you to do with every motion in your session.

Slow down, and also take note of how the muscle mass really feel as you carry out the activities. If it's a leg press, discover how your quads as well as hamstrings feel as they fatigue. If you're doing a bench press as well as discover you get little to no chest activation, swap motions to something like a neutral grasp pinhead press, or perhaps better, jump on the cable television flies before the main movement. Pump out sets of 15-20 until you really feel those chesticles shedding. Move into the main lift as well as see if you discover a difference in muscular tissue recruitment.

Force on your own to reduce down as well as pay attention. If you proceed to do the exact same thing as well as anticipate a different outcome, well, you most likely understand how that will certainly finish for you.

[heyoricohannah]

so the other night, I had a dream about jyrus and I was hoping you can do a oneshot? So jonah is at his relative's house and in my dream, it shows that his parents arent always around. So one of his older cousins always comforts him every night. they were both talking and long story short, they get into a huge argument. At end she says"thank God you arent gay". This made jonah like really mad. Blah blah they fight and the cousin tells her to get out of the house. he grabs all of his stuff and

Jonah could never ask for a pair of better parents. The catch, though, is that they’re rarely ever around, always working out of state and disallowing Jonah to stay at home on his own.

His father’s sister is too busy to keep him around right now, so, a few days earlier, his mother’s sister happily stepped in to take him under her wing.

She doesn’t live too far from his school, and so far, things have felt a little too plain here. What he can’t say about his other aunt’s house, though, is that he has someone else around to keep him company.

His father’s sister is a single mother, with a college aged daughter by the name of Jennie, who Jonah’s never really known too well until recently. Ever since he’s been here, she’d come home from school in the evenings just to spend time with, and get to know him. She knows he must be lonely outside of school, so, she figured it was the least she can do.

“Thanks again.” In the bedroom of the home that he can temporarily call his own, Jonah and his cousin sit up next to each other on top of the covers of the bed, where most of their conversations have taken place.

“Of course. You been talking to your parents?”

“Yeah.” He beams. “I did not too long ago. They’re good. I miss them.”

“Well I can assure you that they miss you even more.” They chuckle.

“How was school.” Jennie asks him.

“Good. My friends have been really supportive about everything, as usual. I wish they didn’t live so far from here.”

From where he is now, each of their houses are about a forty minute drive.

“What are their names, again?”

“Andi, Buffy, and Cyrus.” Every time Jonah does just as much as mention Cyrus, he lights up in a way that showscases his true feelings, that neither he or Jennie are aware of.

“How was school for you.” He asks.

“I saw the weirdest thing today.”

“Oh yeah?” Smirking, Jonah’s expecting for it to be something totally out of the ordinary and college-like. He hasn’t gotten to hear a wild college story from her yet, and maybe now will finally be the time.

“Yeah. There were these two girls like, actually holding hands in the hallway.”

Now he’s just confused. Does Jennie go to a prestigious, religious college, and that’s why seeing that was the ‘weirdest thing’? Now that he thinks about it, he doesn’t actually know what school she goes to.

“What are you talking about.” He snickers, slightly panicking that she’s implying some sort of disapproval.

“You know, they were like, lesbians, or something.”

He doesn’t like the frown on her face.

“Yeah, and? Who cares.” He grows defensive without any hesitation.

“I dunno, it’s just, weird.”

“Only that it really isn’t.” He snaps.

“Why do you care so much?” She laughs. “What are you, gay?”

“No.” His jaw clenches. Just because he believes in basic human rights doesn’t mean he’s gay. Not that he’s straight, either.

“Well thank God for that.”

She better be implying the privilege that he has over people who are gay and have to deal with being judged until the end of time.

“What the hell is that supposed to mean?!”

“I’m just saying, that at least it’s something I don’t have to deal with.”

“You? Have to deal with? Oh well I’m so sorry gay people just have to exist around your straight, selfish self. What if I was gay, huh? What would you do about it.” Jonah doesn’t even want to know how she grew to think like this. It most certainly wasn’t her mother’s teachings. Perhaps, rather her father’s.

“You’re not, are you?”

“I’m close enough.” He gets up off the bed.

“Oh please, you’re delusional.”

“You’re fucking delusional.” He snaps.

“Well you know what Jonah, if you can’t handle my opinion-“

“It’s not an ‘opinion’-“

She scoffs. “I’m sure you and kids from my school would get along very well. Apparently it seems that none of you can handle a disagreement.”

But Jonah knows that this way more than just a simple disagreement.

“Yeah, ‘cause God forbid people respect other human beings.”

“This has nothing to do with respect-“

“Yes it does!” He shouts, having her freeze up in shock. Apparently, she’s underestimated him.

“You obviously don’t respect me, and if you can’t have basic morals, then I don’t have to respect you either.”

“Oh my God, calm down, freak.” She snaps, sitting up on the edge of bed. “Who knew you were such a fag.”

“Oh you really don’t know the half of it. My parents would never talk to me like that and neither would your Mom.”

“Why don’t you just run all the way to your parents and cry about it, freak.”

“I can’t believe you!” He’s unexpectedly begun to cry. “You made me feel protected, and I opened up to you!”

“Yeah well clearly not enough. I’m sorry I wasn’t the person you thought I was.”

“Yeah touché.” He grimaces at her one last time, grabbing his phone off the windowsill from the other side of the bed and refusing to look at her on his way out.

“You know why don’t you just go?!” He hears her shout, storming into the living room and unable to get into his phone fast enough.

Jennie may think that she’s won after Jonah does as told, but after he does leave, he’s going to give her the exact opposite of what she wants.

Since Jennie’s Mom isn’t home, Jonah gets ahold of his other aunt, the one who he’s hoping isn’t held up at the moment.

Thankfully, she isn’t, and she agrees to pick him up. Not only that, but to drive him all the way over to Cyrus’ in the pouring rain.

When Jonah left, Jennie had no problem seeing him go.

“Do you even know if Cyrus is home?” Jonah’s other aunt asks, sitting next to him and keeping focus on the road that rain has no problem pouring onto.

“He always is, around this time.”

“Does your aunt Becca even know you’ve left?”

“No, but Jennie does, and it’s not like she cares.”

“I just can’t believe she said those things to you. Becca’s a nice woman and she couldn’t have influenced those thoughts.” She shakes her head.

“I know...”

“And I just want to let you know, you had every right to be upset. I wouldn’t want to stay around someone like her either.”

“Thanks aunt Dina.” He chuckles, nodding his head. “And thanks for driving me. Right now, you and Cyrus feel like the only people I can go to.”

“Oh, of course, Jonah.” She momentarily touches his back. “I’m so glad you’re friends with a boy like him.”

“Me too.” Jonah smiles. He almost tears up at the thought of it. On one hand he’s just so happy that he has someone like him, and the other it terrifies him to know that he’ll always want something more. It’s always brought him mixed emotions, and he doesn’t need people like Jennie adding in more conflict. He brings on enough of it for himself.

When Dina parks in front of the Goodman’s house, she watches Jonah jump out the car and sprint all the way up their lawn, shivering as he tensely knocks on the door.

When Cyrus opens up, the first thing he sees is that all that’s keeping Jonah warm are the tears gliding down his cheeks.

“Jonah...” He automatically warms him up with a hug. “How’d you get here?”

“My aunt. Not the one I’m staying with, but, the other one.” Jonah faces him.

“What happened? Did she do something?”

“Not her, her daughter. My cousin, she, she said some really bad things.”

“What bad things. How long can you be?” He notices Dina’s car. “Can you come in?”

“Yeah.” Jonah glances back at the vehicle before following Cyrus into the home, Cyrus closing the door behind him and facing his way.

“My parents aren’t back yet.”

“Yeah, I know what that’s like.” Jonah chuckles sadly.

“Jonah...” Feeling absolutely terrible for the kid, Cyrus wipes a tear off his face.

“I’m so sorry you can’t see them often.”

“It’s okay. That’s not what this is about. My cousin, I, I thought could be my true self around her. But...I was wrong. I can’t be.” Jonah represses the rest of his tears.

“What do you mean...?” Cyrus asks.

“She doesn’t understand people who are gay.” Jonah’s statement immediately forms a pit in Cyrus’ stomach.

“And knowing that, I don’t think she would understand people who are bisexual, either.”

Growing teary eyed, Cyrus smiles with nothing other than love.

“Jonah...I’m so glad you told me.”

“Well, I knew you’d understand. Unlike her.” Jonah laughs and returns his smile.

“Aw, Jonah.” Cyrus grins even harder. “I love you.”

His smile suddenly drops, but Jonah’s smile only grows even bigger. He finds the shock in Cyrus’ eyes adorable, and when he comes to terms with what he just told him, Cyrus grins right back and steps closer towards him.

“I love you too.” Jonah tells him.

“You do?”

“Yeah!” Jonah exclaims, giggling.

“Huh!” Cyrus smiles. “Wow...” He giggles along with him.

“I’ve been uh , meaning to tell you that. Just didn’t know how.”

“Well, I guess you just couldn’t wait.”

That makes them laugh.

“Guess not.” Cyrus says. “So, uh, how long do you think you can stay?”

“Oh, not too much longer, I think...” Jonah folds together his hands.

“Maybe you can stay with the aunt who drove you?”

“I don’t think I can...My other one’s working right now. She’s not the problem, it’s just, her daughter...”

“Yeah. I’m really sorry.” Cyrus understands.

“It’ll be fine. She has to go back to school during the night, so. And my parents should be back soon. Besides, I got you, don’t I?” Jonah looks at the upside of all of it.

“You most certainly do.” Cyrus confirms, taking in the sounds of the rain and see Jonah glance at the front door.

“Uh, here.” He runs into the kitchen and gets him his jacket.

“Take this.” He hands it over to him.

“Cyrus I can’t-“

“Yes, you can.” Cyrus puts it on him and even zips it up for him.

“There.” He observes the view.

“You’re great.” Jonah compliments. “I’ll give it back to you at school tomorrow.”

“We’ll see about that.” Cyrus jokes, the two of them giggling as leads him to the front door.

“So, I love you.” Jonah reminds him.

Cyrus laughs. “Yeah? Well it’s a good thing I love you too.”

They say it a few more times, and because of they can’t seem to stop, they shut each other up with a long, time consuming kiss.

When Jonah arrives back to his Aunt Becca’s, he enters inside to see her sitting alone at the kitchen table with her posture straight and her hands neatly folded.

“I can explain-“

“No need to. Jennie told me everything.”

“Oh...” Now all of Jonah is heating up. “Um, I-“

“No need to clarify, Jonah. She started claiming nonsense, and I saw right through her. So, I made her leave. And I’m making her join the pride club at her school.”

To Jonah, this house suddenly feels like home.

“Who’s jacket is that?” Her question has him shimmer.

“My lover’s.”

It sounded a lot better in his head.

[tonyredgrave]

Hey, Isaac! Badnewshq is a brand new semi appless supernatural town rp! We were wondering if we could please get your opinion. Thank you so much in advance!

Been a while since I did one of these so if this is a little rusty, my apologies. You can find it under the cut.

So the most of things here are great! Your theme is fine – not my personal aesthetic but I get how it goes along with the plot and I love your icon. If I had any recommendation here it would be to increase the font size and/or darken it. I can read it okay but I can easily see how someone with worse eye sight couldn’t. Your plot sounds very interesting and unique for a supernatural rp. You have a diverse amount of species which is always cool, especially when they’re not TVD based. Your banned list is fine though I’d maybe reorganize it a little – separate the groups like ‘no minors’ and ‘no dead people’ from the specific people. I’d also add either ‘anyone accused of rape or abuse’ just because charges from those crimes can be rare. 

I do want to specifically talk about your rules though. In general, I think they could use a read through. For the most part they’re good and they make sense but there are multiple typos, some confusing wording, and a few things that I would personally clarify or reconsider because they don’t make sense to me. I think this might partly be due to the length. (And yes, some of this will sound pedantic. Rules have become the thing that matter most to me when it comes to whether I join an rp that interests me or not so I examine them closest.)

IC & OOC AGE: my one thing here is why are 19 year old characters allowed if you prefer them to be at least 20? I personally don’t play characters that young but, if I did, I’d feel a little weird about bringing in a character a year younger than what you want, like maybe I’d be judged. And it is just a year so I don’t see why the rule can’t be that all characters should be 20 or older. Also a little typo here, italics for emphasis: “We recommend that be at least twenty years old.” 

FACECLAIMS: “It also includes those that have resources from their younger years and will not be allowed.” I think I know what you mean here – that faceclaims who only have resources from when they were under 18 aren’t allowed but the wording here could easily mean any faceclaim who has resources from under 18 even if they now have plenty from over 18. Unless I’m mistaken.

FACECLAIMS part 2: the second bullet point here, you recommend people check both the current age and age of resources of the faceclaims they’re choosing. Why? Is there a 5+/- rule? It seems like a half-finished thought.

FACECLAIMS part 3: Jesus I’m being nitpicky here but, personally, I wouldn’t say the banned list is ‘forever changing.’ It just seems weird to me. Maybe ‘the banned list is subject to change as new information comes to light so please double check before applying.’

BLOGS / SIDEBLOGS: this one is one of the weirdest rules to me personally. No re-purposing old blogs? I kind of understand the idea behind it but I think a better way would be ‘please make sure your blog is clear of old posts unrelated to this rp’ and then asking anyone who tries to submit one that hasn’t to change or make a new one. Because, at least personally, I have a lot of old, unused rp blogs and I’d rather repurpose one of those then have to make yet another one. Also, whether new or not, most people will reblog some musings before you open to make sure their blog shows in the tags so this won’t help with the ‘who’s posted in 48 hours’ thing unless you ban that as well. I’d also just add a ‘no mumu blogs’ because the current wording is kind of confusing.

PICTURE / GIF SIZE: this one also threw me off because basically you’re saying this group has to be gif icons / static icons. Small gifs are usually either 245x138px or 268x150px. They don’t work with your 200x200px max rule. Which is kind of a shame because a lot of underused faceclaims only have gif packs and a lot of gif pack makers have rules that disallow people turning their gifs into icons. This limits a lot of perfectly usable though underused faceclaims to people who can’t make their own gifs and can’t find screencaps to turn into static icons. Also, small gifs vs icons can be an accessibility issue. I’ve met people in the rpc that don’t use icons because even the 100x100px ones are inaccessible to them. They don’t use the big, 500px gifs but they do use small ones that just aren’t icons.

MEMES: I’d honestly clarify this rule. What is considered spamming? How many per day, per week? And what memes are considered relevant to the rp? TBH, I’d recommend having a set day for memes and only allowing people to send memes that you’ve picked beforehand. Basically, monday is meme day and the gossip blog reblogs 1-3 memes that people can send to each other – something like that.

TRIGGERING CONTENT: “We here at badnewshq do not condone anything that takes place.” I just want to point out the wording on this one because lol. I get the meaning of this rule though and I think it’s a good one that other groups could stand to adopt. I’d maybe add racism, homophobia, and transphobia to list of things disallowed.

PLOT: major plot rules make sense but I’m a little confused about one of the things you listed – break ups. Do people have to let you know first if their characters are getting together? If not, why do they have to tell you if they break up? And if two players no longer feel chem for their ship and thus want to break them up, can they be denied because too many are happening at once? I get pregnancy, death, species change, or even just marriage (because a marriage is big but two characters don’t have to get married immediately for their ship to work) but break ups don’t fit in the category IMO. If two characters aren’t allowed to break up or their break up is delayed weeks or even months then that can suck the muse out of a player and make them drop the character all together.

INTROS: just a clarification, what happens if someone doesn’t post an intro? Are they asked to drop the character? They’re warned once and then what? A little vague, I’d clarify.

CHARACTERS: this one might bother me the most. No offence to the admins but you’re not following your own rules here and that is something I personally find hypocritical. If a mun must be actively rping in the group for 48 hours to take up a second character and two weeks to take up a third then why do the admins have 2 and 3 respectively? I mean, this is a YMMV thing, and it’s not like a random sometimes-RPH is going to change your mind, but it’s something that personally bothers me.

None of the above is a 100% deal-breaker but there are some things that make me a little tentative to fully rec it. I think anyone interested in a supernatural rp should check you out though to see if this is the group for them. And I wish the both of you the best of luck.

[stormy-seasons]

Pet 13.3

Dust can go anywhere, anywhere the wind can carry it. Dust has a reputation for getting anywhere and everywhere. And Guizhong is who she is, is the Lord of Dust. If she wills it, she is as formless and ever-present as this form of her element. And she wills it, and travels swiftly along the leylines, for Azhdaha’s rage veers on shaking the foundations of Guili and Liyue and Jueyun.

Morax is pinned beneath Azhdaha’s feet, she sees once she reshapes her form in the underground cave they’re in. Pinned, and not struggling, and looking remarkably... accepting. Guizhong takes that sight in, puts that fact together with Azhdaha’s resounding rage, and asks sharply, “What happened, and what did Morax do?”

Azhdaha tells her. Guizhong takes a minute for herself, to calm the rage that washes over her. When she is mostly certain she can speak calmly, she asks, “Who is taking care of Xiao for the moment?”

“Bosacius and Indarias.” Azhdaha rumbles. “They have been explicitly told to ... disallow any sexual overtures, but to otherwise affectionate and platonic contact. As much opportunity to rest as possible, and as much food and water as can be persuaded into them.” 

“Very well.” Guizhong takes a deep breath, and lets it out very slowly. Goes to one knee and stares down at Morax’s face. “My dear, beloved friend, what, precisely, is the reason you intend to sever Xiao’s contract, and set them loose to make their own way? What, precisely, is the reason you intend to set out alone and make all the territories of our surrounding rivals a lifeless wasteland, or else die trying to attempt it?”

Morax looks back at her. “You know why.”

Guizhong smiles pleasantly at him. He flinches. “Perhaps it is only that I was not... intimately involved in the situation the way you and Xiao are. But this reaction of yours rather seems like an... over-reaction, and one that will harm far more people in the doing of it, than by refraining. Don’t you think so, Azhdaha?”

“I completely agree.” He rumbles, voice as dark and deep as the lightless depths below the earth. Morax shivers. “If penance is what you think you have to do... then penance we shall give you. But first... Guizhong. I nearly forgot to inform you... Xiao nearly cut off their own wings, intending to offer penance to Morax, earlier.”

“They what?” Guizhong snarls. Azhdaha just blinks at her calmly. “Exactly what I said.”

Guizhong has to focus very, very hard on not giving into her initial reactions. Morax doesn’t look as though it was his idea anyway, she notices through the red haze of rage. Morax is actually ... cringing, Guizhong decides, as aghast by the reminder of Azhdaha’s words, as Guizhong is aghast to hear it. But. She has to be sure.

“Morax,” Guizhong rasps, “Was that your suggestion?”

“NO!” He shouts. “Never! I would never... never ask or command such an, an abomination from Xiao, they, they deserve to be... be free –”

“Good.” Guizhong interrupts. “I perceive that there are several misunderstandings happening. I propose, I suggest, Azhdaha, that perhaps we... try to untangle this with the both of them at the same time, or else we will be fighting the aftereffects of all this for a very long and frustrating time indeed.”

“I agree.” Azhdaha says immediately. Morax must have rather ... frustrated him. Guizhong turns then to the stubborn one immediately at hand. “Morax?”

Their Morax, their dear, talented, gifted, formidable blockhead, swallows roughly. “I ... I think I had – we had – better. I am clearly misunderstanding something that both of you see with painful clarity.”

Guizhong nods at him grimly. “You are. But the most... intractable difficulty, at present, is the intersection of yours and Xiao’s individually reasonable issues. So. If we ask, Morax, would you allow us to take the lead, even to command you, until this matter is resolved?”

Morax twitches. Looks to the side. “... you could just... fight me down into submission like we usually do...”

Azhdaha presses down with a foot with subtly heavier pressure. None of them miss the moment when Morax’s head tips backwards a little, when his breath comes subtly faster. Azhdaha purrs, voice deep and low, “Oh, I don’t think that’s necessary, do you Morax? I think you’re already really happy to let someone else help with this, because your usual... coping methods and resolution methods... are not working very well for you, are they? Come, then, yield to us. Let us take care of you.”

Guizhong watches, eyes intent, as Morax considers. Hesitates, a moment more. Then tips his head back and closes his eyes, exposing his throat. Azhdaha steps off of him, and reaches down to grasp his throat. Waits a single moment, in case Morax should have... qualms. Then bodily heaves Morax upwards, grip just shy of tight enough to choke, and sets him on his feet. “Come with us.”

It is woken from its doze by... something. By the feeling of a presence approaching that it had thought it would not be graced with again, with how their... their last interaction had gone. It wriggles about – it is still... still held in its keepers, in the other yakshas’ arms – would it be allowed to greet that particular person properly? Soft whispery words, with an undertone of anger between them, and then ... then Bosacius – it must use the name properly – holds it tight to him with all four arms as he speaks to ... to Indarias. “ – You know how much I agree, Indarias, but to just –”

“You cannot possibly be suggestion that we allow him to... to...”

Xiao does not know what they are talking about, not really. Only that their words do not... do not make it feel very... It doesn’t know how to phrase it, not right now, not even inside its own head. But it... it wants to see that person. It wants to. It wriggles harder, attempting to get free. Bosacius does not relent. Frustrated, it bites on the nearest part of Bosacius it can reach with its mouth. As hard as possible. He swears, roughly, and it tastes blood, oddly sharp and sparking in its mouth. Some angry, vicious instinct snarls in satisfaction inside itself. Good. Good. 

Hot hands disentangle it from Bosacius. It waits, blood in its mouth, angry. Surely its keepers would discipline it for this, and surely it was warranted, surely – but it does not regret biting. Indarias sighs at it, and pats it admonishingly upon the head. It bristles, but doesn’t lash out at her. She isn’t holding it back. It twists away from Indarias, keeping a wary distance between itself and a wryly cursing Bosacius. “ – at least now we know their stubborn will is still in there somewhere? Wait, where are they going –” 

It slips away from their reaching hands, and bolts into the hallway. Instinct has it turning this way and that, tracking the bright, warm, presence that it wants. Other instinct has it shooing the curious Geo beings – vishaps, that quiet internal voice says – away from it. Not harming them, no, not as long as they didn’t harm it. It doesn’t want to tarry. It wants that person. 

And then it pauses. It can feel, instinctively, where that bright presence is – with other bright, strong presences, deeper. But. It would have to go deeper. It cannot feel any windows deeper into the caves, now. The area ahead is not... not shaped for the comfort of beings of Anemo. Spark-bright and fire-warmth, behind it and catching up – Bosacius and Indarias are close. They would stop it. It decides, and darts into the unlit cave system. 

It has scarcely gone twenty paces when it runs head-first into Azhdaha. The surprise has it falling out of human form and into bird shape. Small bird shape, the one they had practised for... for something that wouldn’t happen now. Azhdaha grabs for it, and it twists away. The caves are not lit, not really, not when most of the beings who traverse it have no need for sight underground, and it isn’t quite sure where the walls are. But that is not important. Its person is here, too, Xiao can feel them, and it flaps blindly for them. 

Morax catches it. It relaxes into the palm of his hand, relieved. It is ... it is here, it is where it should be. Its lord cradles it close – it snuggles into his grip, content, and then they are all moving rapidly... rapidly somewhere else. 

Xiao pays the changes no mind – one of the others will... will let it know, if it has to pay attention to something. When the moving stops, they are... in a room. A bedroom? One that is very large. And... Indarias and Bosacius are here too, looking ruffled and annoyed. It looks about curiously at the rest of the room. It thinks... it thinks it has been here before, when it was looking for Morax earlier. Was this... Azhdaha’s bedroom? Azhdaha gently lifts it from Morax’s hand and holds it up to his eye level. “Xiao. Listen very carefully to me. Morax has asked that we – that Guizhong and I – do something for him. It will include intimate touching. Are you alright with witnessing that?”

Xiao ruffles its feathers, feeling unnerved. Why... why was Azhdaha... asking it things again? Guizhong looks over, taps Azhdaha on the shoulder, and lifts Xiao to her own hand, and speaks plainly to them. “Morax has requested that we employ dominance over him, in order to help him untangle certain problems that he has right now. Would you like to participate too?”

It rocks from foot to foot, uncertain. Guizhong pets its head with a finger. “You don’t have to, but certain realisations may be easier for Morax if you participate, Xiao.”

Oh. That would be good. But... Xiao fluffs their feathers again, fear welling up in its heart. This shape could be... could be happy, be cheerful. This shape had simple concerns, simple desires. To be near Morax was enough for Xiao, like this. But if it participated... No one else was in animal-like shapes. And if it took on human form, took on a form that found it easier to hold complex thoughts, complex worries, complex desires... before instinct had welled up with a vengeance at Morax’s nearness when it hadn’t expected to see him again, it had been sad. Very sad. Would it be sad again, if it took on that shape? It glances at Morax. But he ... looked sad. Surely Guizhong would not lie to them? If it could help... 

It flutters off Guizhong’s hand, and over to Morax’s shoulder. Nudges its head against his chin, testingly. Morax sighs softly, raises a finger to rub against its chest. It feels nice, but... but its Morax is still... sad. It nudges its head against Morax’s chin again, and then glides to the floor. Pulls human shape around it along the way. It kneels on the floor, gasping lightly for air. Its thoughts are a complex whirl in its mind, as Xiao adjusts away from the simpler awareness of the little finch’s shape. It leans forward, resting one hand on the floor, head bowing – its hair sweeps past its neck. Morax makes a choked sound at the print of his teeth. “You still haven’t healed that?”

It flinches. Guizhong sweeps past Xiao and smacks Morax upon the shoulder, hard. “Have you asked why Xiao hasn’t done so?”

He shakes his head. Xiao shivers, caught between the urge to apologise and make itself small, and the urge to just... do what Morax wanted. Although it didn’t want to remove the bite mark at all... Azhdaha comes up from behind, and asks, “Would you like me to hold you for a bit, while Guizhong talks some sense into Morax?” 

The thought of that is nice, and it nods. Guizhong hisses some more sharp words at Morax, who bows his head in response. Xiao blinks at the sight. It is... unusual, to see Morax defer to anyone. And then Morax turns to Xiao, and adds yet more surprises to an already surprising day. “Xiao, I apologise. That remark was not called for, and rude besides. I humbly ask for your forgiveness.” 

...... of course it forgives Morax. Xiao nods in response, saying shyly after it becomes clear that Morax is hoping for words, “This one would not dream of holding any grudge, my lord.”

Morax smiles in relief, and it smiles shyly back. Guizhong, from where she is discussing something with Bosacius and Indarias, turns and asks, “Morax, with or without sex?” 

He doesn’t answer immediately, stroking a gentle hand down Xiao’s cheek. It really likes that touch, and rubs its face against his hand in hopes of more. Morax strokes its cheek again, and asks, “Xiao, would you wish to participate, if there is sexual activity?”

It blinks at him. Anything Morax wants is fine, had it not been clear enough before? “Yes?”

Morax turns and replies to Guizhong, “Then yes, with sex.” 

Guizhong walks over, trailed by the other two yakshas. “Xiao, do you wish for Indarias and Bosacius to observe or not?”

It nods. Guizhong smiles gently at it. “Then, if you do not mind, please join them upon the bed. At times, we may ask you to participate, or ask Morax to perform certain acts with you. At any time, if you feel distressed by what is happening, you can always ask for the activity to stop, or to leave, or to choose not to witness. Do you understand?”

“Yes, Lady Guizhong.” Xiao replies respectfully. Guizhong nods permission for it to act, and it follows her instruction to join Indarias and Bosacius, who ruffle its hair playfully and tease it a little for bolting so quickly, apologising as they do so for ignoring Xiao’s opinions earlier. Then Azhdaha dismisses one of the stone walls of the bedroom, and Xiao’s jaw drops at what it sees laid out in neat array there. It had not thought that Azhdaha – that its lord – might have such sharp tastes. Some of those it remembers in flashes of pain and agony – it hopes that those are not as uncomfortable for its lord as they were for itself. The thought of that has it pressing close to Indarias’ side, as it watches the other three carefully. 

Guizhong looks over the array slowly, her eyes intent and sharp, before flicking a quick glance at Azhdaha, who promptly raises a shimmering shield around the bedroom. 

“To prevent accidental interruptions, should there be... much sound and upset,” he explains calmly for Xiao’s ears. Guizhong nods approvingly, and then turns on her heel to regard Morax once more. Her gaze is somehow, indefinably sharper, Xiao realises. 

“Morax,” she snaps, “Disrobe and choose an implement. One with... impact.”

Immediately, he obeys. Xiao’s jaw drops open on its own again. Indarias reaches over its shoulder and helpfully nudges its mouth closed. Morax, form entirely bare, walks over to the wall of tools and implements. Chooses something that looks, to Xiao, like an unpleasantly heavy whip, of some kind of leather that Xiao doesn’t recognise at all. And then Morax goes gracefully to his knees, and offers up the whip in both hands. A distraught sound falls from Xiao’s throat. No, this was all wrong! Why... why was Morax – that should be Xiao’s place, Xiao was the one who had erred! It tries to rush over – Guizhong snaps a sharp command. “Hold Xiao still, and do not let them interfere.”

Bosacius and Indarias take hold of it again, very firmly. Xiao searches for words, since it isn’t allowed actions. “Why – but why – he did not – my lord did not –”

“He asked for us to ensure his submission.” Guizhong states firmly. “As you might have guessed, there are times where Morax’s tastes run very sharp indeed. On those occasions... even this is not sharp enough – he will not be content until at least one of us has drawn blood or broken bones. Usually, in fact, he prefers that we fight him into submission, with everything that entails. Again, I remind you – if this is distressing to witness, Xiao, you need not participate or witness it. Say the word, and we will have Bosacius and Indarias bring you home to rest.”

“But – he did not do anything worthy of punishment!” Xiao shouts, unable to resist the desire. “He did not – this one was the one who failed, who should be punished!”

Guizhong raises an eyebrow. “If you feel that way – then perhaps you can consider seeing this a punishment for you, too. Not that Morax considers this punishment. Not truly.”

It is confusing. Very confusing. Azhdaha sighs softly, dragging Xiao’s attention to his silently looming form as he plucks the whip from Morax’s hands. “An implement like this would be torment, if it were used upon you, wouldn’t it, Xiao?”

It nods helplessly. Similar things had... hurt a lot. Azhdaha uncoils the whip slowly, and hands it to Guizhong. Half-turns, and offers up his back. “About as hard as you’ll strike Morax later, if you don’t mind.”

The crack is loud and showy. Azhdaha’s back – his human form’s back – doesn’t even bruise, let alone welt. Xiao blinks. Azhdaha winks at it, and then tells Guizhong, “Once more, to be sure.”

Then he turns around, and says to Xiao, “For Morax and I, most of the things here are... essentially sensation toys. We won’t even bruise from them, without a great deal of effort. Something like that... is a sharp sensation without actually being sharp, for us. The sensation of it is not what Morax is looking for – it is at the moment merely the tool by which he intends to offer us his submission. And as for why he wants to do so...”

Azhdaha turns his attention to the still kneeling Morax. “Would you like to explain to your Xiao now?”

Morax works his jaw, as though attempting to find words. Shakes his head, after a long moment. Azhdaha sighs, “Very well then.”

He turns back to Xiao. “If, at any time, the confusion is distressing, you may leave. I say this as a reminder for your safety. Do you understand me, Xiao?”

It nods, shuffling worriedly from foot to foot. Azhdaha nods in acknowledgment. “Good. Now go and sit with Indarias and Bosacius, and do not bolt into the scene without warning. A pulled blow for Morax is not the same as a pulled blow for you – and you have not been released that long from the healers’ supervision.”

Morax waits patiently upon his knees. He owes Xiao many things – a thorough explanation of the relative physical risk involved was hardly anything in comparison. He can wait. Soon enough, Azhdaha bids him rearrange himself for Guizhong’s convenience. He remains on his knees, his head and hands resting on Azhdaha’s knees while the other sits upright and cards a hand through his hair. While Guizhong flicks sharp, dancing sensation across his shoulders and upper back. It goes on for a while, and his back is pleasantly warm by the time Guizhong has worked out some of her frustrations with him. 

“Morax,” She instructs him sharply, “You’ve contributed greatly to Azhdaha’s frustrations without compensation over the last few weeks. Give him some relief now.”

And as instructed, as expected, Morax leans into Azhdaha, into the space his partner and friend makes for him between his legs, and puts his mouth to use. On a human lover, or on an adepti or elemental lover not aspected to Geo, Morax would not use his teeth at all. It is apparently... sexually unpleasant. On Azhdaha... Morax lets his jaw go slack, and swallows down as much of Azhdaha’s arousal as he can manage, deliberately scraping the blunter edge of his fangs against Azhdaha as he does so. Faintly, from the bed, he hears Xiao gasp in surprise. Azhdaha tugs his hair harder – almost harshly. “More teeth, Morax, I’ve told you that before. I can hardly feel it when you’re this restrained.”

Morax pulls off, catches his breath, and dives back in. Lets the sharp side of his fangs rub and scratch, this time, in accordance with Azhdaha’s preference. He doesn’t draw blood, of course. Without any deeper power behind it, with only physical fangs and claws, it would take a terribly long time for either of them to draw blood on the other.

He does it again. And again. And again, until Azhdaha’s girth is stiffened enough to be difficult to fit. Azhdaha wrenches his gaze upwards. “Shall I make you swallow it properly, Morax?”

He makes an inarticulate sound of agreement, and reworks the internal structures of his jaw and throat. Azhdaha forces his cock into Morax’s mouth, and then deeper still into his throat. Morax’s body bulges around his size, naturally, his throat in particular looking... nearly deformed, as the internal structures flex and make room. Xiao cries out in shock, and Azhdaha answers for Morax, who isn’t able to physically speak at the moment – “He’s in no danger. He can swallow the way a snake does, and expand his form the way a snake does, swallowing down something larger than itself. Would you like to come and feel it for yourself, Xiao?”

Morax thinks Xiao would not. But Xiao surprises him again, coming shyly up – by themselves – to touch and trace the bulge of Morax’s throat, to feel for themselves how he isn’t even choking. “It... doesn’t harm my lord at all?”

“No.” Azhdaha answers. “Are you satisfied, Xiao?”

Xiao must be, because their quiet steps retreat to the bed again. Morax doesn’t move – Azhdaha has yet to satisfy himself properly. “Morax. Do remember that breathing isn’t a strict necessity.”

And then Azhdaha traps his head and neck and shoulders in place, and proceeds to use Morax’s mouth and throat to his satisfaction. The only annoyance of sharing and giving pleasure this way, Morax mourns, is that tasting Azhdaha’s seed is... not possible. He coughs softly for air, still held in place, when Azhdaha tucks his cock away. “A nice warm up, isn’t it, Morax? Now, how does Xiao prefer to enjoy you, when both of you come together?”

How did Xiao prefer to enjoy him? Morax’s brows furrow in confusion. “We have not... that is, I am usually the one doing the taking...”

“Go on.” Azhdaha reminds him. Morax thinks about it further. “And among other things Xiao likes it when I... take care of them, or...when I... touch and caress them gently. Ah, it doesn’t seem to matter where I touch them, but they especially like it when I touch places like their wings... and sometimes it seems as though they really enjoy it when I praise them, or when I.... act in ways which are...”

He trails off. Azhdaha raises an eyebrow, as though to say, please stop hesitating. Morax takes a breath to steady himself, and reframes his thoughts. “Xiao appears to enjoy it when I praise them, and when I let them know that they are doing well, they are pleasing me, and when they have an opportunity to serve, if I understand them correctly. They also appear to enjoy it when I... behave in a way which most would consider... possessive over them.”

Azhdaha strokes his neck slowly in approval. “Very good, Morax. Now, crawl towards the bed, and offer to do something for Xiao that they would enjoy.”

[simone-garnett]

Title: a lovestory to remember Fandom: riverdale Pairing: Sweet Pea x Ethel Word Count: 10.5k Information: inspired by @raptorlily‘s post. not exactly an ‘a walk to remember’ au though i could be convinced to add a pt ii and make it.  there was a musical in both, i couldn’t resist.

        ao3   //   ffn 

He doesn’t want to be involved in the musical, not really. But Principal Weatherbee is breathing down his neck, Northsiders watching his every move, waiting for him to slip up. Waiting for an excuse so he can be expelled. And he hates them, hates their pompousness and arrogance with every fibre of his being, hates the fact there is an air of superiority surrounding them whenever he would walk into a class,

but more than that he hates the idea of them winning.

And so when Weatherbee approaches him, mentioning oh so casually that the musical needed more people for it to run, a light tone mixed with calculating eyes, he volunteers. Reluctant and hesitantly. But he does agree.

And it does mean a lot to Fangs, he reminds himself. So it can’t go wrong.

Sweet Pea quickly learns that no good deed goes unpunished.

And nothing could be more humiliating that walking into practice, everyone moving and singing with ease. He feels like he is drowning and there were no hands outstretched to save him, no one aware that he needs the help. And who could he call out to? Fangs was busy assisting Kevin, Toni making friends with the other girls. His lungs are filling with water and he can’t breathe, not in here. Not when he is so woefully inadequate and they were so close to discovering that themselves.

He storms out early, an easy lie passing through his lips. He isn’t sure if Fangs calls for him back, or Kevin. He isn’t sure anyone even heard his words.

And as he pushes open the doors of the auditorium where they were having rehearsals, his backpack and helmet left behind, he vows one thing.

He wouldn’t be coming back.

“I noticed you’re struggling with your lines.”

A voice talks to him through the darkness. Sweet Pea wasn’t expecting anyone to see him there, lying underneath the shade of the tree after practice concluded. And he certainly wasn’t expecting anyone to have the balls to approach him. But apparently one person does, a soft, feminine voice ringing out, the crunch of leaves underneath her shoes beside his ears. He cracks open one eye, searching for the person who decided to interrupt his solitude.

She’s a cute thing, he notes. It’s only a passing though, Sweet Pea scanning her, from the top of her curls, to the small smile playing on her lips, to the way she is wringing her fingers. She isn’t a threat to him, he thinks. Not physically.

He sits up, eyebrows pinching together, watching her through wary eyes. “Excuse me?” She starts fiddling with her fingers, dropping her knees beside him.

“I was in practice, I noticed that you were stumbling through your lines. And you weren’t really getting your moves.” His eyebrows shoot upward, Sweet Pea pursing his lips together. She won’t look at him in the eyes anymore, this new girl more focussed on the grass around them than his face. “I just wanted you to know if you wanted someone to help you with lines or songs or dance moves, I can. I know the musical already.”

A scoff leaves his mouth, harsh and loud and grating. All he hears is her showing off, reminding him of his own inadequacies. Like every Northsider before her. “Really? You’re coming to help me from the goodness of your heart?” The disbelief coats his voice, and she freezes, torn between anger and hurt. “Forget it, I’m only there to get Weatherbee off my case and I’m not here just so you can prove to your friends that you can talk to some dangerous Southsider.” He sneers the words at her, eyes like glint as he glares. “It’s pathetic.”

“I didn’t mean -- I’m sorry.” Well crap, there are tears welling up in her eyes, the girl pushing herself to her feet. “I just wanted to help.”

She runs off after and Sweet Pea tells himself that is okay, that he wanted her to leave.

He lies back down in the grass, hands tucked behind his head as his eyes drift close, Sweet Pea determined to rest once more before having to go back to the Southside. Her teary face haunts him every time he tries to sleep.

”Hey Fangs,” he says the next day, the girl from before walking the school hallway alone, clinging to her books. “Who is that chick?”

Fangs pauses, turning his head to see where Sweet Pea was looking. “Ethel? What about her?” His eyes narrow. “Don’t give her a hard time Sweet Pea, I actually like that Northsider.”

“I would never,” he retorts, rolling his eyes as he walks away from Fangs.

      Ethel, he thinks.

            Okay then.

“Hey Ethel!”

Her head jerks up from inside her book, head turning side to side as she looks for whoever was calling her. His deep chuckle snaps her head forward, a cautious expression on her face as she takes him in. He is leaning forward, elbows resting on the table, his leather jacket worn again (Weatherbee was becoming lax again), a smirk on his face.

They are in the library, but there is no one around. She shushes him all the same. He laughs again, a rich sound, and it leaves her a little flustered. She didn’t think he knew her name, didn’t expect him to. And seeing him leaves her on edge. “No one is here except us.”

“What are you doing here?”

“I read.” She looks down at the table, his hands barren of any books. Her gaze flickers up, eyebrows raised. He has the gall to look unashamed. “But I’m here for you.”

Her body locks up, and the warmth leaves her eyes. The change confuses him, the way she cowers for a moment before straightening up, holding her head high. “If you’re here to destroy my social life, don’t worry, I’ve already gone through it before. You really can’t do that much damage.” Her voice is biting and eyes aflame. “But good luck, I’ve survived worse than you.” It is a scornful remark, and for a flickering moment, he comes up with a retort of his own, ready to snarl it at the girl who thinks she could attack him like that. But he can see the little tremble of her lower lip, can see how tightly her hands her clasping the corner of the table, knuckles turning white. And he remembers the first time he needed to defend himself, years before the Serpents became his family. He remembers feeling alone against the world, remembers the way the older kids would taunt him, would push him around. And he remembers how frightened he was, how he had to hide it from the enemy, from the world. How he fought back.

Sweet Pea never thought he’d see a piece of himself in a Northsider, especially not the one before him.

And the retort dies on his lips, the anger inside him quenched.

“Woah, calm down.” He sticks his hands out, open as if in surrender. He softens his voice, hoping to appease her. “I’m here to apologise.”

The steam leaves her, Ethel’s shoulders dropping. “What?”

She is still wary of him, and he doesn’t blame her. He realises how this looks. “Listen, I probably shouldn’t have snapped at you yesterday. But I didn’t know who you were or if I could trust you. And well,” he shrugs, “Northsiders haven’t exactly been the most welcoming people since we got here.” There is a forced airiness in his voice, and he hates how obvious it is. The rest of her wariness slips off her shoulders, eyes brimming with sympathy. “But Fangs seems to like you and thinks you’re cool so I guess you can’t be terrible. So, sorry.”

She tilts her head to the right, Ethel biting her bottom lip. “Umm, thank you.” It sounds like a question but he ploughs on, determined to ask her before he gives up to the cowardice scratching at the cavity inside his chest.

“Also is - is that offer still open?”

Her eyes enlarges, mouth opening and closing a few times. “For help in the musical?” He nods, already bracing himself for rejection. “You want my help?” He nods again, already preparing to backtrack or laugh it off. “Yeah, okay.”

“Really?” The surprise slips into his tone, and she nods at him, a smile spreading across her face.

“Sure. Just don’t fall in love with me, okay?” She can’t hide the small smile, eyes sparkling as she teases. It doesn’t instil confidence in him and she softens, a more serious expression on her face. “Look, I offered it to you didn’t I? I’ll help you, it’s fine.”

“ ‘kay then.” He seems unsure, but she looks at him so openly and honestly that he finds his lips curling upwards. “Tomorrow morning then?” She nods, cheeks flushing as he continued to watch her, smirking. He winks, teasing her as she buries her head into her book again. "I look forward to it.”

And with that, their fates were sealed.

They are allowed to practice in the auditorium before class every morning. Weatherbee seems suspicious of the idea, eyeing Sweet Pea as he leaned against the wall in his office, while Ethel pleads for the chance.

He caves. Ethel is a trusted member of the school, and he had encouraged Sweet Pea to join the play, he knew how it would look to disallow them from practising. Like sabotage.

It’s hard at the beginning, Sweet Pea stumbling through the moves, through the lines. He snaps at Ethel more than once, but she never once storms off, persistent in her promise to help him through it. He apologises eventually and she nods and smiles and get back into the practice. But it deteriorates, Sweet Pea becoming increasingly frustrated at his failure to pick it up immediately, his words more harsh. She flinches at one of his barbs, and he feels disgusting, torn between storming out of the room before he can hurt her further or staying and practising with her.

He ends up doing neither.

“Come here.” He follows her to the piano at the side of the stage, sliding next to her on the piano bench. “I’ll teach you something.” And she quietly, patiently explains the notes to him, what is middle C, different chords and scales.

It feels like the first time he was truly seeing her. She had been sweet and supportive throughout the musical practice, but seeing her behind the piano, the passion and enthusiasm lighting up her face. He is seeing her in her element and its a wonder to behold. She nudges him softly, pulling him from his thoughts, a small smile on her face. She offers to teach him a song.

He laughs at the suggestion.

But she is eager. It is meant to be a distraction; there is no pressure attached to learning the song, no time limit in place for him to perfect it. It is simply a break from the pressures of practice,a method to release any pent up emotions built up during their private rehearsals, a way to show her that he is at the end of his tether.

And the way she describes it, like music was a salvation, a light in the darkness - he finds himself drawn to the idea. “You can’t come here immediately,” she adds as an afterthought. “We do need to learn the musical and I don’t think Weatherbee would be pleased seeing us playing this when we promised to be focussing on that instead.”

He finds himself agreeing to her, reciprocating her smile, wide and bright and full of excitement and hope, with a smaller one of his own.

He doesn’t regret the decision. Not at all.

They are caught a few days later, an embarrassed Ethel claims it was vocal exercises, helping Sweet Pea find his key for the performance.

Weatherbee nods slowly, a sceptical look in his eye, walking out of the auditorium. It takes a minute for her to be able to breathe again, Sweet Pea’s laughter echoing the chamber. She joins in after a while, giggling until her cheeks ached, a stitch developing in her side.

He throws his arm over her shoulder, Ethel stiffening at the unexpected move before slowly relaxing against him, smile still on her face. “That was incredible,” he laughs. “I don’t know why you didn’t go for a bigger role in this thing.” She blushes at his praise, Ethel ducking her head, changing the topic, reminding him to start practising again.

And in less than a week Sweet Pea finds that his time alone with Ethel was a sanctuary and one of the better parts of his day. Due, in no little part, to the company. To her sweetness, her softness. Her smile.

The Serpents still are together, their bond stronger than blood. They don’t separate, not even during lunch. And while they normally have his whole attention, he finds himself distracted by the girl sitting alone on another table, head buried in a book, absentmindedly nibbling on her sandwich.

“Who you staring at?” Toni’s voice snapped him back, Sweet Pea controlling his expression as he turns back to his gang. And there Toni is, eyebrows raised, a smug look on her face.

He crosses his arms. “No one.”

“Liar,” she bites back with a smile, eyes sparkling in mischief. “But why are you lying to me Sweet Pea. What are you hiding?”

“Nothing Toni. Drop it.” He turns away from her, picking up his lunch, chewing it aggressively. He grunts as she elbows him lightly in the side. “She’s cute,” she singsongs, leaning into him, ribbing him until the tension left his shoulders.

But then she stills.

He follows her line of sight, watches as a boy leans over Ethel, the girl looking back up at him. Her jaw is clenched defiantly, but he can see the hurt shining in her eyes. And Sweet Pea doesn’t even think, doesn’t realise he is standing, ready to approach her, until he feels Toni’s hand on his forearm, holding him back.

He looks down at her confused. There is worry on her face, but she is making no movement to join him. “Don’t worry, Chuck’s there.”

And Sweet Pea looks up, sees that there is already another man standing behind her, arms crossed, an unimpressed look on his face. The distance is too much to catch his words, but the annoyance is visible and enough to have the other boy cowering away. He can only watch as the other student sits beside her,  a comforting hand on her shoulder, more words exchanged before he gets up and leaves her alone.

It shouldn't bother him that she had other friends, other male, good looking friends who would come to her defence. It doesn't.

(only it kinda does)

“So,” he starts casually during practice the next morning. “Who’s your boyfriend?”

She sputters, completely forgetting that he should be rehearsing one of the group numbers. “What are you taking Sweet Pea?” She looks horrified at the words, a sharp gasp leaving her lips, hands covering her mouth. “I didn’t mean to imply anything. I was just surprised, that’s all.”

He looks amused at her panic, an eyebrow quirked up as she apologises. “Yesterday at lunch. I saw your boyfriend come up and save you from that prick. You’ve never mentioned him in practice before.” He can hear the hurt in his voice, prays she can’t do the same. Because he had thought they were more than strangers after meeting and practising together. He had told her about Fangs and Toni and his other Serpent friends and he thought she had opened up to him too. But apparently not. And that knowledge stung.

Her frame relaxes the tension it holds, Ethel melting in relief as she realises what he’s referring to. “Oh Chuck, he isn’t my boyfriend.” He can hear the laughter in her voice at the idea, can hear it is coating something else. Something he can’t recognise. “He was just trying to make up for something he did before.”

“What’d he do?”

But she doesn’t answer, not immediately. Her lips are pursed and she she seems caught up in memories. It’s only when he says her name, softly at first, louder later, that she is torn from her thoughts. “It’s nothing Sweet Pea.” But it isn’t, it so obviously is the opposite. Her eyes are haunted, her energy dampened. And it leaves him unsettled.

“Ethel,” he starts lowly, taking steps toward her. Her head tilts as he approached, neck craned upward to meet his gaze. He wants to take her hand, to hold her, to protect her. He doesn’t though. He isn’t sure she would like it. “Ethel, what happened?”

“Have you heard of a sticky maple?” She almost wants to hide at the mention of the word and he can feel his blood bubbling.

“Yes.” It is terse, and he hates this. He doesn’t want to know anymore.

“Well umm, he came up to me in the library one day, I thought he was trying to be my friend but umm,”  she drifts off. “He did it to me.”

“He what?” His voice is deathly quiet. Then, “I’ll kill him.”

“No!”  she exclaims, eyes widening further. “Please don’t do anything.” It’s the first time he can recall her touching him without him first instigating it. She places both hands on his chest, as if to hold him back. And her touch - light and delicate on his chest - it does. He is all bottled rage and burning fury but she looks at him pleadingly and he can’t move, rooted firmly where he stood. “He’s changed now. He’s sorry and he’s different and getting him back is going to help no one.”

“Why are you protecting him?” It’s pushed through gritted teeth, the horrifying thought of her nursing a crush on him on the forefront of his mind.

She looks bewildered at the idea. “I’m not.”

"Then what do you call this?” he snaps. 

“I’m protecting you!” Her explosion takes him by surprise, Sweet Pea faltering, blinking repeatedly in disbelief.

“What?” It is hoarse, raspy and the sound of it has energy seeps out of her shoulder, her voice softening.

“Think about it - even if you do attack him, you’ve instigated a fight. Suspension at best, expulsion at worst.” She looks up at him unblinking, pleading with him silently.

He wants to tell her that he doesn’t care about that, that expulsion would be worth punching Chuck. But he can’t. “I don’t like this,” he says instead, and relief fills her face. “If anything like this happens - you know I’ve got your back, right?” It takes her by surprise, just how serious he is about it. She drops her hand from his chest, fingers burning. He starts walking, Ethel falling in step with him later on, rooted to the spot momentarily in shock.

“Absolutely.”  She nudges him softly, just enough to get his attention. “And ditto. If you ever need me Sweet Pea, I’ll be there. Always.” He looks down at her, Ethel looking up, beaming at him and there is a warmth that blooms inside him. He wraps his arm around her shoulder, tugging her closer to him.

“You know you’re so strong,” he murmurs. “So much stronger than you realise.”

The words send a sharp thrill down her spine, Ethel blushing at his words. “I’m not really,” she mumbles and it causes Sweet Pea to stop, his arm over her shoulder holding her back with him. He bends slightly, both of his hands on her shoulders. The warmth of his touch burns her, and she enjoys the flames licking at her skin, doesn’t want it to end.

It does, far too quickly for her liking, Sweet Pea dropping his hands to his side when she stills. “Don’t give me that crap Ethel. You are.”

“Thank you.” It is barely a whisper, and she looks away, embarrassed at what he may be seeing in her gaze.

“Okay, come on.” He takes her hand, tugging him toward the piano. It startles her, the way he slips her hand into his so easily, the calloused feel of his thumb on the outside of her palm, stroking it softly, subconsciously. She actually stops, Sweet Pea turning around, a flicker of confusion before he brushes it off, his pull more insistent. And she regains control of her legs, a few quick strides to catch up to him. Her heartbeat however, Ethel couldn’t control that, the rapid pounding inside her chest reignited with every brush, his skin rubbing against hers.

She mourns the loss of contact when the arrive at the piano, Sweet Pea letting go and sitting beside her, but they make music together all morning before class. And it touches her more than all the hand-holding in the world.

This is crazy, he thinks to himself, all the while throwing pebbles at her window. Absolutely insane. But he was there, in front of Ethel’s home, praying that he wouldn’t accidentally awaken her parents or the neighbours. She opens the window, sticking her head outside. “What are you doing?”

“Can I come up?”

She shuts the window.

He almost turns away when he sees her front door unlocking, Ethel standing there wrapped in a robe, hopping from side to side as she ushers him in. The house is as quiet as the dead, the only sound the shuffling of his shoes against the wooden staircase. She leads him to her room without a question, locking the door behind him.

He finds residence in her bed, sitting in the edge as she approaches slowly,  flicking on her lamp. He flinches from the light. "Sweet Pea," she sighs, sitting beside him, lifting his face up, guiding him back to the light. She hisses as she sees what he desperately tried to hide, the skin around his eye swelling, the colour already darkening into a horrible purple.

“I’m sorry,” he whispers, and he doesn’t know how to interpret the look on her face. “I normally go to Fangs, but he is having his date with Kevin, and the boss has Alice over and Toni is crashing someone else’s couch and -” He runs out of steam, wincing as her fingers brush over the bruise. “I can go if you -”

“No!” It is forceful, and it startles both of them. Ethel recovers first, clearing her throat and bringing her hands back to his neck, tilting his face as she examines the damage. “What happened?"

"The Ghoulies." It is bitter to his ears and her own. Ego wounded, body bruised. “They caught me wandering the Southside alone. I had my knife, but they had more people.” There is a sharp intake of breath from Ethel and he still isn’t sure why he came here, to this Northsider who had probably never been involved in a fight. But that is a lie, because she is more than a Northsider - she is his friend. And he trusts her, even with this. Especially with this.

“Where else did they hit you?” He looks at her, fighting the loose hold she had on his chin to properly look. She seems worried, she seems concerned. She seems determined.

“Chest.” Her eyes widen. “You wanna see?” He smirks at her reaction, so sure she’d say no. But she doesn’t, instead nodding at him, waiting expectantly for him to pull it off. And he does. It does his ego a world of good to see her so flustered by the sight, Ethel unable to look him in the eye as she pokes at his bruises. “Hey!”

“I don’t think anything is broken,” she murmurs, more to herself. “Just sit here okay.” She doesn’t give him a chance to respond, Ethel slipping off the bed and out the door before he could raise any objections.

He laughs to himself, imagining how her parents would react to a Serpent sitting shirtless on their daughter’s bed.

The door creaks when she returns, a pack of frozen peas in her hands. They don't exchange words, Ethel rummaging through her wardrobe, wrapping it up in a shirt before approaching slowly. She sits beside him, close enough that he can see the specks of gold in her dark eyes, the lamp casting a warm glow on her face. She leans in closer, holding the peas against his face. It cold, freezing, and he has to bite back his reaction. The silence between them stretches, Sweet Pea watching Ethel as she moves the peas around slightly. When she drops it from his face to his chest he can sense how uncomfortable she is. He had never moved his gaze from her face, watching as she meets his eyes, surprised as he lifts his hand to cover hers, pushing the peas more firmly against his side. A hiss escapes him, this bruise more tender. She lasts a few minutes, more than he was expecting, before pulling her and the frozen peas away. She unwraps it, handing him the bag of peas before rolling the clothes into a ball. “I think it’s been wrapped around it enough to be a little cold,” she offers shyly before lifting the cloth to his face. Sure enough, it does cool his face. Sweet Pea uses his shirt to wrap the peas, holding it against his side. She isn’t looking at him anymore, not in the eyes, instead looking just to the left, where the bruise marred his face.

“Ethel,” he calls out softly. She catches his eyes, so many different emotions swirling inside them. It steals her breath away. "Thank you." She feels those two words reverberate in her soul, the guttural voice he used, infused with sincerity, his eyes unblinking, watching her as though she were an angel from on high, in awe and wonder.

"Anytime." Her voice falters. She feels choked up and she can’t explain it to herself, is too afraid to  try. "Seriously Sweet Pea, I’ll always be here for you." He nods against her hand, his breath hot against her wrist. It leaves Ethel feeling lost, overwhelmed by emotion.

She starts to move away when Sweet Pea grabs her wrist, his hand holding her own against his face. She looks surprised, she is surprised, and she isn’t quite sure what he’s looking for in her. “Why are you so nice to me?” He sounds so lost, so confused with an act of kindness, and she feels her heart lurch at the sound, at the realisation he that he had been conditioned to expect nothing from anybody, not least Northsiders. “I was a bit of a jerk when we met and during the first practice," a huff of laughter leaves her unbidden, and he doesn’t crack a smile, looking at her forlornly. Her hand slips, no longer pressing the cold, damp clothes against his bruise, but the side of his face. And there is a yearning inside of her, that she wouldn’t be in this position because of an attack, a desire that there would be nothing in her hand, that instead she would  be touching his skin, fingers stroking his cheekbone, his jawline, trace the outline of his lips. “Yeah, I was a bit of a jerk for a lot of the practices after that. But you stayed with me, you haven’t really snapped at me, you let me in your house.” His voice is low and urgent and Ethel isn’t sure whether she’s breathing anymore. “I don’t deserve this. You.” He looks at her through his lashes, sorrow spilling from his gaze, and she breaks.

“Don’t.” It is harsh and her other hand rises to the other side of his face, lifting it up. “Don’t you dare say that Sweet Pea. You’re loyal to all your friends, and you’re so dedicated and funny and you gave me a chance when not many people here do.” She takes a shuddering breath, a pause before adding, “if you don’t deserve me, then I don’t deserve you either. Do you hear me?” And she isn’t quite sure what she’s going to do if he says no. He doesn’t say anything, nodding slowly, his gaze never leaving her own, not once. It pierces to the very depths of her soul, and she doesn’t know what he is looking for or whether he could see it inside her. 

"I should go,” he says eventually, making no attempt to do so. The moment, if she could dare to call it that, ends his voice shattering the silence and the bubble that had surrounded them. She drops her hands from his face though she itches to return them, to hold him, to touch him.

"Stay,” she replies. “Just for an hour or so. Get some rest.” He nods at her, lacking the strength to start an argument, let alone see it through. He plucks one of her pillows before dropping it on the floor. “Umm,” she starts. “What are you doing exactly?”

He looks at her as though the answer is obvious. “Going to sleep.”

“You can sleep on the bed. It’s more comfortable and I promise to not attack you while you sleep.” She is teasing and he can’t help the grin in response, picking up the pillow from the ground, dusting it off before placing it back on her bed. “I’ll be back, just make yourself comfortable.” She disappears out the door, the peas in her hand. He toes off his shoes and hangs the wet shirts off the chair in her room, hovering near her window until she returns. The exasperated look she throws his way when she sees him out of bed is enough for him to relax, Sweet Pea waiting for her to settle before crawling into the other side.

"Tell me a story,” he mutters, melting into her soft mattress, moaning at the feeling.

“Okay.” And Sweet Pea listens to her soft voice, drowning in it, letting it lull him to sleep.

He wakes up to a sleepy Ethel staring off into nothing, sitting by his laying body, her fingers skimming over his hairline, the motion repetitive and soothing. “What time is it?” he grumbles, reluctant to move from his position.

She stops the touch and he almost asks for her to come back and continue. Almost. Her body twists as she reaches out for her mobile, the soft glow lighting up the room. “Around 6.” He jerks up, a panicked look in his eyes.

“You were supposed to wake me up.” She doesn’t look guilty or repentant, and he is starting to wonder whether his influence has been that good on her, not when she uses it against him.

“It’s Saturday and you needed a good night sleep Sweet Pea, I wasn’t going to kick you out of my room.” She watches as he rushes around the room, picking up his damp shirt and sliding it over his head, Sweet Pea slipping on his shoes. It is only when he is almost ready to leave that she gets up, placing her hand on his forearm, stilling him. “Sweet Pea,” she sighs and god, he can hear how tired she is, can see the bags under her eyes now he actually takes her in. “Please stay.”

He reaches to her, wrapping her up in a hug. His body is shaking, and he clings to her, Ethel his rock, a source of strength in the turbulence he was feeling inside of him. She is stiff in his embrace, but quickly melts into the hug, her hands  winding themselves around his waist. It isn’t possible to bite back the hiss of pain when she tightens her hands around him. He can feel her bury her face in the crook of his neck, can feel the apology against his skin, the warmth of her breath and brush of her lips marking his skin. He can feel a wetness against his neck. A lump forms in his throat, large and uncomfortable and he struggles to swallow his saliva.

He lingers long after he thinks they should separate, the idea of pulling away repulsive. But he does so eventually, clearing his throat.

“I’m sorry.” Ethel rubs the base of her palms against her eyes, trying to wipe the stray tears away. “I don’t know why I’m crying.” But the laugh that leaves her is one that doesn’t hide her embarrassment, and she averts her gaze.

Not for long though, Sweet Pea tilting her head back toward him.  He drinks her in, from her red-rimmed eyes to the silvery trail down her cheeks. “I do.” It sounds so soft, a sharp contrast to the loud bruise on his face.  He pulls her back into a hug, his chin resting on top of her head, Sweet Pea blinking back tears of his own, eyes stinging as he fights them back. “Don’t think anyone’s cried over me for a long time.” His voice is distant, and she holds him tighter, fisting his shirt from the back. It is painful, but he can’t bring himself to say anything, not now. Not when he’s afraid she’ll let go forever if he does.

He breaks the hug first, hands gentle on her shoulders as he tries to pull himself away from her strong hold. The first rays of dawn were breaking through, the room lit up, the sky hues of pink and purple. None of them noticed. “You’re too good for me Ethel.” It is a raspy, and he looks like he wants to say more, but he can’t verbalise it, can’t put his feelings into words, isn’t sure the right one’s even exist. His eyes are aflame and she would burn willingly inside them, Ethel unwilling and not wanting to look away.  He presses a gentle kiss on the crown of her head before slipping downstairs and out of the house.

He takes her heart with him.

Ethel was the angel of the school; she may have been shy but she was adored by almost all that attended.

There were, however, men who sought to cut off the wings of angels, to enjoy their fall, to watch as they could never fly again.

Sweet Pea hated those guys.

And so, when entering the cafeteria at lunch, when he saw one of them making their way to Ethel, he moved without thinking. He couldn’t punch them, though he were sorely tempted, they hadn’t done a thing yet and Ethel was right, he would face suspension or expulsion if he were to even blink at them threateningly. And so he simply took the seat beside her, sitting backwards, back leaning against the table, arms resting on the table behind him as he throws her a quick greeting.

He turns his head over his shoulder, catching the boy’s eyes, expression cold as his gaze follows his movement past the table without a word to Ethel. It is only then he relaxes. And realises she was talking to him. He looks sheepish as she gives him an unimpressed look. “Sorry,” he offers.

“Sweet Pea,” she sighs. “Did you sit here just to scare people away?” He doesn’t answer. He doesn’t need to - his expression says it all. Her shoulders fall, an exasperated look on her face. “Are you going to do this with every person who might say something?”

He shrugs. “I don’t mind trying.” And the look slips from exasperated to something more fond.

“New table.” They both turn to look at the newcomer, Fangs dropping his tray on the table. “I like it.” He winks at Ethel, throws Sweet Pea a wicked smile, and bites into his sandwich as though it was nothing out of the ordinary.

“Me too.” And there was Toni, sliding in beside Sweet Pea, a teasing smile on her face. “We might have to sit here more often.”

Ethel looks surprised, a few more Serpents and Southsiders joining them at the table, engaged in their own conversations, throwing her a brief nod before turning back to each other.  

They engage her in their conversations, Toni and Fangs, and it leaves Sweet Pea feeling happy, watching his best friends interact so easily with her. “So why are we sitting here now anyway? You guys have been sneaking off together for ages.” It’s an honest question, but it throws them for a loop.

Pink dusts her cheeks and she bites her bottom lip, questioning whether she would have to answer. She looks to Sweet Pea, but he is mum on the topic. “There was a guy -” he scoffs at the description “- and Sweet Pea just came to make sure he wouldn’t bother me. I don’t he planned on moving you here.”

“You came to protect her!” Toni squeals, squeezing his arm tightly. Her smile lights up the room and he rolls his eyes at it. “Oh Sweet Pea who knew you had it in you - a knight in shining armour, here to protect and save his damsel in distress.”

“Alright you guys, cool it.” But there is no annoyance in his voice, a smirk on his face as Ethel’s blush deepens. It’s cute.

“Awww.” It is Fangs that teases them out loud, Toni content making kissy faces at Sweet Pea where Ethel couldn’t see. “You guys would be cute together, ya know.”

He leans back, smirking at she blushes and fumbles through her words and denials.

“What's wrong? You don't like the idea of dating me? Don’t you want to hold my hand? Kiss my in the hallway?" The words are teasing, as is his smile, but she doesn’t respond, Ethel biting her lip and looking down. And suddenly it feels a lot less playful than what it meant. His heart stops for a long moment, insides twisting. There is a earthquake inside of him, a crumbling feeling striking him furiously and he isn’t sure what it means exactly. Only that the idea of her not wanting to date him leaves a bitter taste in his mouth and an ache in his chest, the scars of the destruction only seconds before. Because the idea of those things happening, he wasn’t against it in the slightest.

“I have to go,” she says instead, picking up her bag, abandoning her half-eaten lunch. “I’ll see you tomorrow.” And she scurries away, Sweet Pea watching her leave without saying a word, his gaze following her out the door, lingering there long after she disappears through it.

“Way to go genius,” Toni snarks, rolling her eyes. “You pushed her too far too quickly.”

“Oh shut it.” But his words lack the bite he wants to feel. “Why don’t you find your girlfriend.”

“Oh my gosh.” She stands up. “Fangs, get out while you still can. He’s going to be unbearable.” A pause then, “and she’s not my girlfriend. Yet.” And she walks off, looking for Josie and the other Pussycats. Fangs throws him a sympathetic glance, but doesn’t move. Doesn’t speak to him.

Sweet Pea loves him for it, but it leaves him alone with his thoughts and feelings.

And he doesn’t like that at all.

“I thought we were in here to practice the play?” He is sitting on the stage, his legs swinging back and forth as he watches her sneak in ten minutes late, a guilty smile on her face as she drops her bag by the door. “What type of teacher are you?”

After one swing of his feet, Sweet Pea bracing himself against the stage’s edge, he jumps off, a smirk on his face as she sticks her tongue out at him. “Oh you’re perfect and you know it.”

She stops by the side of the stage, where the piano was and ignoring Sweet Pea hovering near the centre of the stage, she slides onto the bench to the left, his spot beside her left vacant. He fills it. “So, you want to continue practising?”

“Nah,” he replies. “I wanna hear you play something for me. Something fancy.” And so she does, Sweet Pea listening with a smile on his face. “You’re really good at that,” he comments as she continues into something more difficult, Ethel beaming at the compliment. “Who taught you?”

Her smile falls, not completely, but it leaves a twisting feeling inside of him all the same. The music stops. “My dad and I played it together.”

“You don’t have -” The moment she lifts her hand he cuts himself off. He wants to take it inside his own, to comfort her, to support her.

“After he tried to take his life everything changed. I mean, him and mum don’t fight as much anymore, and that’s good. But we had to sell the house and the piano. They got me a keyboard, but I think it just reminds him of what we used to have.” She drifts off, sadness coating her words. He slides closer to her on the bench, a hesitant arm wrapping around her shoulder. Ethel falls against him easily, a shaky breath leaving her.

“I’m sorry,” she mutters after some time, pulling away from him. He feels the cold immediately. “Here I am rattling on about my life. I’m sure you don’t care.”

“I do.” The bewilderment at her assumption causes her to turn to him more completely, and he hates that she still doesn’t believe he would really care for her. “Of course I do.” He nudges her softly, “You’re really something special Ethel.” She blushes. It is the prettiest thing he can remember seeing, the way her cheeks turn a rosy pink, her eyes averting as she tries to bite down her smile. He can see himself leaning forward, a hand cupping the side of her face, his thumb stroking underneath her bottom lip, stilling, tugging her bottom lip from being caught between her teeth. She would freeze, he thinks. She always does whenever he would do something new, would turn and look at him with wide, doe eyes, mouth a little open. It would be so easy to kiss her then, he can see himself moving to kiss her, to capture that lip between his own, to swallow her gasp of surprise, whimper of pleasure.

The vision of it in his mind is strong, strong enough for  him to zone out, Ethel watching him worried as he comes back into reality, blinking a few times, needing to clear the image from his mind. “Are you okay?”

No, he thinks. He isn’t.

He slides off of the piano bench, Ethel watching him lost. “I - I gotta go.” He stumbles backward, quickly grabbing his bag as he continues to back out of the auditorium. “Thanks for the lessons - I couldn’t have done this without you.”

And he leaves her confused and alone.

The play goes spectacularly, and it leaves Kevin beaming in pride, Fangs by his side. It is a rush of excitement and adrenaline, Toni bouncing in joy, hovering between teasing Sweet Pea about his performance and spending time with the Pussycats. And he is okay with it, basking in  the sense of accomplishment.

He meanders outside, bumping into a few Southsiders, a hand on their back in congratulations. The air is crisp and cold, and he breathes it in deeply, exhaling slowly. The weather is chilly and he tugs his jacket tighter, the leather soft. The crowd of students rush around him, out of the auditorium to meet their parents and friends waiting for them outside. He is alone, but that is okay, he is okay. The high of performing is running through his veins and he looks at the crowds, Northsiders and Southsiders all together, mixed and indistinguishable. He looks up, unable to hide his smile. It’s a beautiful, he thinks, the stars twinkling in the sky, lights in the darkness, illuminating the night.

Toni comes arm-in-arm with Josie, the pair of them laughing in joy, their faces shining like the sun. It fills him with joy to see his friends happy, flourishing in a school where they expected nothing good to come from. Melody and Valerie trail behind them, lost their own little world. Toni’s eyes light up as she sees him, the girl tugging Josie to where he stood. They all talk together, but he can sense the lingering distrust between the other Pussycats and Josie, and he isn’t sure whether it was his place to ask. But it breaks when Josie catches sight of Kevin, waving him over, Fangs stuck on his side. It is an interesting group, singers, gang members and the sheriff’s son.

He is distracted from their conversations though, scanning the crowds for something, a sense of anticipation building up in his chest. And he needs release. It comes in the form of Ethel, the girl rushing toward him.

“You did so wonderfully,” she exclaims, throwing her arms around him, hugging him tight. Sweet Pea stumbles at her force, looking down at her, Ethel’s face buried into his chest. Something inside him clicks into place, his hands wrapping themselves around her. She hugs him and he melts. He wonders what she would do if he kissed her cheek, if he played it off in appreciation and thanks. He wonders whether her breath would quicken, whether her eyes would darken. Whether she’d allow him to kiss her lips as well.

He shakes those thoughts out of his mind for the moment, an easy grin sliding across his lips as he appreciates what he has now, her in his arms, cuddling him. “Hear that Fangs,” he says over her head. “I was wonderful.”

Fangs scoffs but Kevin nods appreciatively, echoing Ethel’s words.

She tries to to pull away at the presence of the others, but his hands tighten instinctively, Sweet Pea having to force himself to let her go.

But he can’t, not really. His hand is over her shoulder, holding her tight against his side, warmth radiating from her, stoking a fire inside of him. The conversation between her and Kevin is animated, Fangs watching lost for a moment before turning to Sweet Pea, the pair of them teasing each other about their roles, Fangs more congratulatory and honest. They both steal glances at the Northsiders near them, Ethel hovering close by Sweet Pea, leaning into him without realising, rosy cheeks and bright eyes and a smile that could take his breath away.

Fangs does eventually notice his distraction, a teasing smile on his lips as he wriggles his eyebrows at Sweet Pea. He gets a gentle push in reply, an embarrassed look on Sweet Pea’s face. But he shows no sign of interrupting her conversation with Kevin and so Fangs, rolling his eyes, steals back the attention of his boyfriend from Ethel, leaving her to turn to Sweet Pea, gushing about his performance in the play again. He preens at her words, lavishing his own compliments upon her, thanking her for the assistance she provided him. There is a bittersweet tone as he comments they no longer need to meet every day for practice, and her eyes dim. Or at least he thinks they did - he is fearful he may be projecting his feelings on her, is afraid she doesn’t really care. Silence envelopes them after that, and he isn’t sure how to develop their friendship now the play was no longer holding her to him.

They had never discussed anything like that, and it’s a crushing realisation that she may not want there to be anything more. Before he can mention it, she is distracted by something over his shoulder, Ethel on her toes, craning her head to seek confirmation of what she had thought she had gotten a glimpse of.

“Oh!” She lights up. “I see Chuck.” The words are like a knife to his heart, and she tears off a piece of him as she pulls away. He catches sight of the guy near the other wrestling students, Toni and Josie giving him hugs and talking. He blinks and looks around - the other Pussycats had disappeared as well and he had missed it entirely. He watches as they wave goodbye to him, the girls walking in different directions - Josie to her mother, Toni back toward the group.

But as one returns, one leaves.

He doesn’t say a thing, doesn’t try to keep her with him. He can’t. She is like sand through his fingers, and he realises that he can’t hold her to him. He isn’t sure whether he could hold her at all. Ethel doesn’t move that far, only a few yards to where Chuck has wandered away from his wrestling friends. He can’t turn away from the sight, even when they try and engage him in conversation, even when it eats himself up inside to watch it. And he does.

Watches as they hug, as they laugh and talk. Watches as Chuck slings his arm over her shoulder and they walk away toward the carpark.

“Crap,” he mutters, Toni sidling up next to him, watching the retreating figure of Ethel and Chuck. “I like her don’t I?”

“And the penny drops,” she sighs. She wraps her hand around his waist, the pair of them saying goodbye to Fangs and Kevin before walking away from the front area of the school, dragging their feet to their motorbikes. “If it means anything, she totally is into you too.”

He steals a quick look at her, before looking up at the sky, watching as dark clouds roll in, a slow exhale leaving him. “I don’t think so Toni, I don’t even know if she’ll still talk to me after this.”

His words still her, Toni tugging him back to her as he continues to walk forward. “Tell her how you feel Sweet Pea.” He rolls his eyes, grunting in disagreement. “Tell her or you’ll regret it. I’ve seen you two together, I don’t think I’ve ever seen you so happy or carefree. God Sweet Pea, you’re not even like that in the Southside.” The more words that are spoken, the more his walls are built up, the aggravation and annoyance shuttering him from the earnestness of her words. He looks at the sky. The clouds roll in faster now, and the stars that he had admired earlier, all but gone. The sound of thunder echoes, an ominous warning for the storm that was approaching.

“I don’t think so Topaz.” And what tears at her soul  isn’t his words, it is the resignation and defeat in his tone, the hopelessness on his face, the facade of listlessness crumbling without ever fully being built. He had given up without ever even trying.

“Look at me,” she asks, she pleads. To nothing but air.

Sweet Pea had turned and left.

The Whyte Wyrm is bustling late at night, Toni working the counter. “Can I have something?” She scoffs at his voice, at the suggestion.

“Please, I like my job here.”

“Toni,” he groans. “For me.”

She raises an eyebrow unimpressed. “Don’t give me those puppy eyes. You wouldn’t be so miserable if you just manned up and told Ethel how you feel.” He groans at her words, head falling into his arms, resting on the bar.

“I can’t Toni, you know that.” It comes out muffled, Sweet Pea flinching, head jerking up at she hits the tops of it.

“Yes you can. At least you know the girl you like actually likes you back.” There is a sadness in her voice, memories of Josie and Reggie close and flirting fluttering to the forefront of his mind.

“Oh crap Toni. I didn’t even think - are you sure?”

She offers him a tight smile. “I saw her and Reggie making out right before maths, so I’m pretty sure.” She sighs, the cracks of her facade showing, his heart lurching in response. But she hides it well, turning it back to him. “You - grow a pair and ask her out.” His head drops back down, Sweet Pea grumbling at the suggestion. Toni rolls her eyes at his antics, stealing a glance at the door when it swings open. She whistles, low and long. “Well, since you don’t want to do something, seems like your girlfriend’s doing it instead.”

He lifts his head and turns in his seat, eyes finding Ethel immediately. And he is jaw slacken, the girl dressed in a short dark green dress, with fishnets and boots. She had walked right from his fantasies and into real life and honestly, could he be blamed for dazing out. She makes her way slowly toward him, shyly navigating her way through the crowd until she was right in front of him.

“Damn girl you look fine.” Toni’s voice snaps her attention away from Sweet Pea, a smile spreading across her lips as she sees the genuineness of Toni, the appreciative look in her eye. “If you ever want to leave that Serpent for this one...” She ends the sentence with a wink, a blush spreading across Ethel’s face. “I mean, girls do have more fun.”

“Okay Toni,” he grunts. “That’s enough.” She harrumphs in annoyance, but she does walk away from them, going to serve some of the other Serpents. She leaves Sweet Pea and Ethel alone. The nervous ticks come back, he sees, the wringing of her fingers, Ethel tucking a stray curl behind her ear. “What are you doing?” he hisses. “What are you doing here? And in that?” He’s afraid to look over her again, afraid he’ll show more than what he should.

“I wanted to talk to you,” she says evenly. “Thought maybe I should try and blend in.”

“You came here - to talk to me? Instead of the place we both go every week day?”  There is scepticism and disbelief mixed in his voice, but her gaze doesn’t falter.

“Please,” she scoffs. “It’s not as if you’re easy to catch at school.” The level of attitude in her voice sends a surge of pride through him, Sweet Pea stemming down the smirk itching to cross his lips.

“We can do this later then.”

“No,” she snaps. “You’ve been ignoring me for weeks. Now.” He groans, taking her hand into his as he slides off his bar stool, tugging her to the exit.

“Go get her tiger.”  Toni’s voice echoes as he leads Ethel out the door. Her laugh follows it as he sticks his hand out behind him, middle finger displayed.

He turns the corner, Ethel jogging to keep up, lost as Sweet Pea navigates his way through the trailers until he reaches the outskirts of the land, a quiet area with no eyes watching. She turns to face him, eyes dropping to their hands, still touching. It is as though drawing attention to it burns him, Sweet Pea dropping her hand immediately, shoving his hands into his pockets. “Okay, you have me now. What did you want?” It comes out as harsh, and he almost apologises, instead biting his tongue and waiting for her to talk.

“I just want to know why you are avoiding me? What did I do to you?”

“Nothing.” There is confusion in his voice, brows furrowing as he tries to understand where she was going with this conversation.

“Then why won’t you talk to me anymore!” she exclaims, pausing to recollect herself. She looks up at him earnestly, desperate for the truth. “I’ve been wracking my brains trying to figure out what I did that has made you like this, and I can’t think of it.” Still he says nothing. He can barely process what she is saying. “I’m sorry Sweet Pea, whatever I did I’m so, so sorry. But you have to tell me what did I do wrong,” her voice cracks. “Because I can’t fix this if I don’t know what I did wrong.” 

That’s all that he needs for his resolution to break. It’s instinctual, his hands finding the sides of her face, Sweet Pea taking a step towards her, leaning down, kissing her. He doesn’t mean to show her everything, but it flows from him, his hand sliding from the side of her face and into her hair, fingers running through the curls that had tempted him for so long. He tilts her head up toward him, drinking her in as he continues to kiss her, tilting his head toward the left, his nose pressing into the softness of her cheek. She tastes like strawberries. Strawberries and sweetness and everything he didn’t realise he needed until it was right there, in his hands. Kissing him back. Faintly he is aware of her hands sliding up his torso, arms winding their way around his neck. He struggles to control the groan at the back of his throat, more determined on seeing which sounds he could elicit from her. She is just as responsive vocally as he imagined, soft whimpers and mewls as he deepens the kiss, tongue running against the seams of her lips, encouraging her to open up to him. She follows him without hesitation. Sweet Pea loses himself in her, pulling her flush against his body, and he breathes her in until she is all he can feel, all he can taste, all he can think of. She’s infected him, in his bloodstream, coursing around his body, and he would imagine no greater high. And there is no better sound that his name moaned against his lips, her voice thick with want, her hands around his neck, pulling him further down so she could kiss him more easily. And she does, her mouth open to him, his tongue licking into her mouth, sweeping inside and teasing her until she was a wreck, a hand sliding up into his hair, fingers curling around his short locks, tugging it as his own hands find a sensitive spot on her sides.

She may have been a wreck, but he was no better. All he wanted to a wall to push her against, to touch and taste her, to know every sound and reaction he could draw out from her.

But then Toni’s voice is in his mind, her insistence that they talk ringing in his ears.

He pulls away reluctantly, resting his forehead on her own. His eyes are closed, afraid to see the confusion and disgust swirling in her eyes. Because while she may be attracted to him, that was no promise she would like him, like him enough to continue their friendship, like him enough to date him, to take him home to the family. To introduce him to them, to the whole world, as her boyfriend. “That’s why Ethel,” he grounds out, chest still heaving, Sweet Pea struggling to catch his breath. “Because every time I’m with you I want to kiss you, I want to make you smile and laugh and hold your hand and kiss you and protect you and all that corny crap.” Her breath hitches, a shaky watery exhale leaving her mouth, the warmth touching his lips, a tingle sparking at the feeling. “But I’m not stupid. I know what you Northsiders think of us. You might be okay helping me out for the play but it is over now, I don’t think you’re going to be so willing to be seen with me. So yeah, maybe I’ve been avoiding you. But it’s just better, okay? For both of us.”

It’s a small mercy she hadn’t pulled away yet. He didn’t know how she would react if he couldn’t bask in her warmth for that moment. He’d be cold, empty. And he didn’t think he could handle, not immediately after he rubbed himself raw with vulnerability. He needed a moment. He needed her.

“Is that what you really think of me?” There is hurt in her voice, undisguised by the roughness of it. “Would I have come here if I didn’t care about you? Have I ever made you feel like I didn’t Sweet Pea?” At his lack of response she pushes forward. “Was I really that terrible at showing just how much you mean to me? I’m sorry then. Because that is the last thing I would want.” Her voice was husky and laboured and the sound sends lust spiking through him.

“What - what are you saying?” His voice is hoarse and hope blooms inside his chest. He opens his eyes, watching as she looks at him through hooded lids, lips swollen and red and smiling.

“I want you too.” One of her hands had slipped from his neck to his chest, Ethel staring at it instead, the lightness of her skin a sharp contrast to the black tee he was wearing. She can feel the heat emanating from him, can feel his heartbeat underneath her palm. “But I’m not blind you know. I’ve seen how the girls all look at you because, well.” she gestures her hand up and down his body. ” Have you seen yourself? You could have any girl you wanted, Northside or Southside. Why would you want me? I’m not exactly what boys consider ‘sexy’.”

He steals another kiss, though, it couldn’t be considered stealing as it was so freely given. He allows his hands to wander, not able - not willing - to restrain himself. She squeaks in surprise, and he reins himself in. “I want you,” he whispers against her lips. “Just you. Only you.” He nips her bottom lip. “Every single inch of you.”

“But-” He cuts her off again, pressing their lips together, content not taking it any further. She smiles against his lips and he thinks that maybe, that was her intention the whole time.

“What do I need to do to convince you?” It’s whispered against her lips, and she smiles at the question.

“This is good.”

He runs his nose up and down the slope of her own, taking a second to press a kiss against the point. “Really?” he murmurs softly, enjoying her closeness.

She hums in agreement. “But many times, just in case I forget.”

“I think I can manage that.”

“Good,” she manages, still breathless. It is only then he notices the faint blush on her cheeks. Still so innocent, he thinks.

“So,” he drags out teasingly. “Any chance of seeing this outfit on you again.” He makes a show of checking her out, allowing his gaze to trail up and down her slowly, allowing himself to enjoy every inch of her before him. She laughs, so open and pure, and he falls in love with her again. “Because this is really something else.” His voice pitches low and, oh, her eyes, he can see them darken, can see the side of her neck, her pulse fluttering away rapidly.

But then her eyes sparkle and she leans forward. He thinks she may be going in for a kiss, but she is aiming to low, her lips skimming across his jawline. His hands find her waist, holding her close as he tries to even out his breathing. She tugs him down as she whispers in his ear, “I think it’s what is underneath that’s more important here.”

[adamworu]

Hi Adam! I recently got into Evangelion and while it’s great, it was also kind of confusing lol. I went through your nge tag which is fab and enhanced my understanding of NGE a lot, thank you! If it’s ok, I was wondering if you have any ideas on this question I have, only if you’re not too busy or anything!

Yesterday I watched Evangelion 3.0 and I’m confused over the spears scene. It seemed like a pretty idiotic situation, between Kaworu taking forever to figure out Gendo had manipulated him to Shinji ignoring his pleas not to take the spears. I’m wondering why Kaworu took so long to figure out what was going on with the spears. From the original series Kaworu seemed pretty quick on the uptake, he realised “Adam” was actually Lilith and changed his plan on the fly, he has anticipated different outcomes for the situation such as what would happen if he reunited with Adam vs what would happen if he died, he seemed pretty smart to me.

But then in the rebuild he spends a much longer time pondering than he did in the anime even as the stakes are higher since Shinji could cause an impact. Kaworu seems confused even though if we’re going by the time loop theory he should be more knowledgeable and capable of anticipating problems? It didn’t seem to be in character.

The rebuild TV tropes page says:

“You have to remember that Kaworu is still an Angel, and therefore never ate the Fruit of Knowledge. He lacks the critical thinking and problem solving abilities humans take for granted, and cannot deal with unexpected situations easily.”

This doesn’t seem right to me. In the anime Kaworu has his moral conflict over whether he should reunite with Adam even if it would destroy humanity, which doesn’t mesh with lacking critical thinking. Then TV tropes links to a reddit thread I submitted which says:

“What we know is that Kaworu in NGE is canonically whimisical and prone to forgetfulness or stupidity depending on how you look at it. In NGE, SEELE is one scene shown to inform Kaworu about his own origins, and he is also informed that Gendo has taken Adam into himself - yet he still manages to mistake Lilith for Adam, despite knowing from the start where Adam was.

Kaworu AKA Adam only attains knowledge by being informed, and while he may ask questions, he is not efficient or capable in answering them. Rei AKA Lilith is constantly questioning herself and the world around her, and this is pursuit of knowledge.”

Did I just get Kaworu’s character entirely wrong…? Maybe he wasn’t as smart as I thought and the rebuild scene was indeed in character. I guess what I’m really asking is, was the Fourth Impact avoidable…? Or was it inevitable? Is Kaworu always doomed to being the pawn of Lilim owing to lacking the qualities of the fruit of knowledge? I don’t want it to be true but…is Kaworu a dumbass? XD

Ok, first things first, hiya + thank you ever so much for sending this to me!

There’s a bit to unpack here so bear with me here:

In relation to 3.0 and the deal with the spears: I’m sure Kaworu was actually assessing the situation, realizing something was awry, but couldn’t quite place it at the time. 

(Also putting this under the cut)

There were two spears in the Dogma: Longinus + Cassius and Kaworu assesses that one of the spears has changed shape somehow. It’s after a bit that he realizes that taking out either spear that something would go catastrophically wrong. When he does try to do something with his controls of Unit-13, he’s split from Shinji and is unable to do anything. He’s to sit there and watch while after Shinji plucks the twin Longinuses (Longinii?) from the being they were embedded from. 

(Also quick sidebar on that here: Shinji wanted to make things right after Kaworu told him there was a way to, in way of taking Longinus and Cassius from aforesaid white being. It’s why Shinji was absolutely stubborn in relation to not listening to others’ pleas not to remove the twin spears.)

The shape of the Cassius Lance had altered somehow, possibly implying that the real Cassius lance is off somewhere. This parallels to the technology used by the Mass Production Evas which the replicated Lances of Longinus were disguised as Heavy Spears. It’s possible that very same (or similar) technology was used for the fake Cassius Lance!

I don’t think Kaworu is knowledgeable about this technology made, considering his questioning of the altered spear. 

In relation to TV Tropes: I’m going to have to say no to that. Fruit of Life doesn’t necessarily mean critical thinking is lacked, considering the other angels have shown intelligence, especially in relation to the AT Field (also more examples here, as well as a this thing i wrote up about the angels). Fruit of Life  granting eternal life (especially because they have s2 engines, which provide infinite stores of energy; Kaworu talks about being able to live eternally, implying he has an s2 engine contrary to what appears to be human physiology). The Fruit of Life could also deal with durability of bodies too, most likely, considering Kaworu’s ability to speak despite being grabbed by Unit-01. I’ll add on the counter-point to Kaworu being devoid of cognitive ability by pointing out that Kaworu knew the ramifications of merging or not either way. I’ve gone over that here.

It’s quite possible Kaworu could have been forgetful there.

Kaworu AKA Adam only attains knowledge by being informed,

That’s... a universal thing. That’s not specific to angels which came from Adam. Kaworu is a lot more understanding + fairly astute than the article argues, being able to tell Shinji about his problems in the original series  in how he copes with the fears of Hedgehog’s Dilemma. The same goes for his understanding of the AT Field (metaphorically: it defends people from pain of both physical and perceived). Rei’s questioning herself and trying to understand the world around her are more in the realm of “she’s navigating herself through adolescence, and this is tampered with because she’s disallowed her autonomy, most notably by Gendo Ikari.” Kaworu’s an adolescent, so I’m quite sure he’s trying to understand the world around him too.

In summation:

-Kaworu realized, there was something wrong, but not fully until after the spears are removed.

-Kaworu doesn’t lack critical thinking skill due to his status of coming from Adam. Fruit of Life doesn’t equal a lack of cognitive prowess! Contrary to the article, Kaworu understands the AT Field (also you’re right to feel iffy on that!) and its metaphorical uses. 

-Attaining knowledge from being informed is universal, not something specific to Adam’s children or Adam.

If there’s anything you need expanded on, let me know!

[johnrgordon]

Writing a historical novel #10 – facing the titans

For the past ten years I have been working on a historical novel, Drapetomania, Or, The Narrative of Cyrus Tyler and Abednego Tyler, lovers, set in slavery times in the American Deep South, and telling of the passionate love between two men, Cyrus and Abednego, and their bid for freedom from bondage – published in May, 2018. As I worked on a final edit of the 183,000 word manuscript, I began reflecting on the process. These are some of my thoughts.

I was hugely intimidated by – and therefore afraid to read – many neo-slavery narrative novels, above all Beloved, by the Nobel Prize-winning Toni Morrison, and The Known World, by Pulitzer Prize-winning Edward P. Jones, both of which would surely contain a depth of insight perhaps categorically beyond anything I had to offer, and so render any effort on my part redundant, even contemptible. Yet obviously I had to read them, lest I accidentally dimwittedly duplicate some legendarily memorable effect or narrative trope or effect, imagining myself to be terribly clever or original.

Jones gave me a little heart before I read him, however, because the friend who recommended him to me said, ‘He didn’t do any research.’ This turned out to be not quite true, but was encouraging in the same way as hearing how (multi-award-winning) British-born Japanese-heritage Kazugo Ishigura wrote his historical novel The Floating World (set in C19th Japan) without ever having visited the country.

Anyway, I approached Beloved & The Known World as a supplicant. This was a mistake: it was, essentially, to misread them. They are novels, not religious texts. While being struck by Morrison’s powerful, blunt and poetic language (& her deployment of, and extrapolation from, what I later discovered was a true story of a mother killing her children rather than allowing them and herself to be dragged back into slavery) I struggled. Listening on my iPod I found her reading of her own work, though evocative, off-puttingly low energy (an account I read of her making the recording included a sound engineer interrupting her gently at one point to say, ‘Toni, I can’t actually hear you’). When I reread it on the page as a violent ghost story I got along with it better, and found it very powerful, indeed at points startling, and (rightly) intensely disturbing.

In humility I took away three small encouragements from my reading of Beloved: firstly, the liberation of the extreme corporeality of the ghost story – a story strongly embodied, yet not limited to the physical realm; secondly, that this was clearly a single tale set in slavery times, and made no claim to be the sole and quintessential account of the experience of slavery, therefore it did not disallow the possibility of other accounts; and thirdly – what seems a general modern trend – Morrison’s principle protagonist is female, as are many – most – of those around her. Focusing on a man, indeed on two men, as my narrative does, in that way goes slightly against the contemporary grain; as does, to a far greater extent, having a same gender loving protagonist centered and positively represented.

I then turned to The Known World. This is a cooler read, in the telling-a-historic-tale, reported speech mode, often jumping ahead to tell the reader compactly what became/will become of various minor characters in the years beyond the novel’s narrative scope. It is incredibly assured, evocative, and less emotionally wrenching by a long shot than Beloved – an easier read, for better and worse. Period details are minimally present – just enough for a naturalistic feel – and historical information is deftly presented. And it is scattered with moving and memorable moments.

From The Known World I took away two observations: first, I didn’t want to write an emotionally detached narrative: I wanted a sense of saturated sensual, psychological and at times visceral overload; and secondly, I strongly suspect the real reason this book, though excellent, was quite so feted with critical praise is because it showed black people owning slaves, and therefore the white liberal literary elite took to it like a duck to ducks: the stain of slave ownership was no longer white folks’ to expunge alone –  an interesting inversion of the ‘universal’ narrative claims of white writing.

Well, for better or worse, we can only, in the end, work in whatever way has meaning for ourselves.

So I left the church of sanctified texts encouraged.

[recentanimenews]

Vivy: Fluorite Eye’s Song – 01 (First Impressions) – Her New Mission

We begin at the end, and I immediately deem it hilarious that “music” is one of the two genres MAL lists under this show, the other being “sci-fi”. With “music” in there I was certain I’d have to sit through at least theme park idol song, possibly with CG dancing. And while an idol is indeed walking down the tunnel to NiaLand’s main stage, the music starts up, and she begins to sing and dance…let’s just say the audience is indisposed.

For as the idol sings and dances, a horrific massacre is taking place, both in the stands and throughout the park. The AI hosts have gone berserk and are engaging in a festival of cold blunt force savagery upon the human guests. Splattered blood and little fires are everywhere. Like Skynet, the machines in The Matrix, and the hosts of Westworld, apparently the AIs have decided to do away with humans as the earth’s dominant species.

One of the park’s researchers manages to get to a place where he can activate a special emergency protocol involving an AI named “Diva”, all the while apologizing in advance for the terribly heavy burden he’s placing upon her and her alone. AI techs arrive and shoot the researcher dead, but not before he activates the program.

After some brief exposition on the fundamental “one single mission per AI” mandate that keeps the lives of AI “free of confusion”, we meet “Diva” (voiced by Tanezaki Atsumi – Chise from The Ancient Magus’ Bride), the world’s first-ever autonomous humanoid AI, who was given the mission “to make everyone happy by singing with all her heart.” But despite her massive potential, Diva seems relegated to a quiet corner of NiaLand singing to a bored crowd of two or three at best.

Diva has a fan and friend in the human girl Momoka, whom she helped when she got lost once and nicknames her “Vivy.” Momoka even gives Vivy a teddy for her first birthday. At the moment Vivy’s moments disallow her from getting anywhere near the vaunted Main Stage, but Momoka has her promise to “someday” sing there, where her powers of song can reach the most people.

Vivy’s otherwise routine day is suddenly interrupted when an ominous timer that was in the top left corner finally reaches 11:35:00:00, at which point “Project Singularity” is executed. Vivy’s consciousness is transferred from her body to a virtual construct called the Archive, where she meets a program in a floating cube that assumes the name of his developer, Matsumoto.

Matsumoto is here from 100 years in the future (and the massacre we witnessed) to ask Vivy to join him in “destroying the Ais”. Vivy immediately suspects some kind of virus or error, but all scans come up clean, and no matter how many times she asks Matsumoto to piss off, he refuses, and instead shows her imagery recorded from the future when Ais turned on humanity. In the first few minutes over 10,000 humans perished, and that’s only the beginning, if the future doesn’t change.

The next day, Vivy goes about her routine, this time singing to an audience of no one, as Matsumoto predicted. Still, that’s nothing too unusual so it could have been a guess, so Vivy has a human tech run a diagnosic that turns up nothing. Whatever Matsumoto is, she can’t be rid of him. He decides to tell her about another future event that will take place that very day: a bomb in a garbage can will seriously injure a pro-AI rights politician.

Once Matsumoto has given Vivy this information, and less than a minute to respond, she chooses the next course of action quickly, and it underscores her unique nature as an autonomous AI—as opposed to the rest of the AI staff, who wouldn’t have been able to unilaterally break out of their primary directives. Vivy is different, so she breaks into Terminator-style tromping run, pushes past the bodyguards with ease, and shields the politician from the blast—all in 45 seconds of real time.

The politician, Aikawa Yoichi, is grateful to Vivy, and promises that next time he visits the park he’ll come watch her sing. But unfortunately, his dream of naming laws leading to equal human rights for AI will bring about humanity’s downfall in a century’s time.

Matsumoto tells Vivy that the first bomb was only a warning, and those who want Aikawa dead will succeed in assassinating him. He’ll be labeled a martyr, speeding of passage of legislation in his name that will ironically doom humanity. So Vivy’s next job is to prevent the assassination. Aikawa is ambushed in his office by SWAT-style operatives, but Vivy jumps down from the ceiling just in time to shield him, and their bullets don’t damage her.

So begins the familiar but so-far compelling story of the reluctant heroine Vivy’s new mission to stop a war between AI and humans that the humans will lose. The only way to do that is to slow or otherwise modify the particular explosive evolution of AI that leads to them to one day say in a single voice “we’re done with humans.”

This is an anime-original series, precluding any adaptation issues. It’s made by Wit Studio right on the heels of the first part of Attack on Titan’s final season, and created and written by Nagatsuki Tappei (Re:Zero), and scored by Kousaki Satoru of the Monogatari series. You can feel all that talent behind the confident, professional, polished production. This wasn’t on my initial Spring list, but it’s there now, and it’s not going anywhere.

By: braverade