#not that it's particularly likely but just in case

[uriekukistan]

In Defense of Shoko in 261

to be so honest, i’m really doing my best not to come off angry while talking about this. but to me this conversation is not just about shoko, but about the way women are treated in media, and especially in shounen manga in general.

people are upset about the way shoko reacted, or rather didn’t react, to yuuta’s plan because it seemed too unemotional and uncaring. if she had shown emotion or protested, people would still be upset because she would be seen as unable to do the necessary thing in a time of crisis due to her feminine emotions or whatever.

this is the dilemma of not just female characters, but real life women. there’s never a right reaction.

additionally i feel that some of the things being said about her are expecting her to only exist as support for gojo, and not as her own character, which i see way too often with female characters in shounen manga.

in any case, i stand by my cancelled wife, and here’s my defense of her. spoilers below the cut.

Since when has Shoko ever been outwardly emotional like that?

if shoko is upset about yuuta using gojo’s body as a weapon, there is just no way she would outwardly object or show any signs that she’s upset. that’s not who she is and she’s shown that. there have been several times where she’s not displayed the emotion one would expect from her, so why would that change now?

when shoko sees geto, one of her closest friends, if not her closest, for the first time after finding out that he massacred an entire village, you would expect her to be feeling a slew of emotions. maybe confusion, maybe anger, maybe hurt, maybe betrayal. maybe even concern for her friend.

but shoko acts like it’s no big deal at all. she’s just seeing her close friend on a regular day. because she’s not the type to get outwardly emotional. whatever she’s feeling right now is kept somewhere else entirely, far away from the surface.

additionally, in the scene where everyone got frustrated that gojo didn’t react about nanami, we have this from shoko.

talking about geto. not reacting. guys shoko is just not a reactive person like that, and that’s totally fine. a lot of people are like this (including myself but thats not the point)

but that doesn’t mean the emotions don’t exist, or that shoko has no way of reacting or coping or showing that she’s going through anything at all. one way is through smoking.

smoking is something shoko picks up again before the shibuya incident, when the entire jujutsu world is growing more stressed with the increased presence of special grades, particularly the disaster curses, the incident at the goodwill event…and at shibuya, the situation was very high stress, yet she keeps a cool demeanour. the only sign that she’s upset at all is that every time she’s shown, she’s smoking.

the only times we’ve seen shoko’s feelings, it’s been completely internal. the most notable being this scene:

this is the most emotional we’ve ever seen shoko, and if you’ll notice, she’s completely alone.

shoko keeps her feelings well hidden from everyone, so it’d be completely against her character to outwardly show if she was upset by yuuta’s plan.

Since when has Shoko shied away from questionable medical/jujutsu practices?

shoko was eager to dissect yuuji after he “died” like it was some sort of science project and not a human being…please note im saying this as a completely neutral statement, this is not to say whether shoko is a good or bad person, just that she is and how she is.

sure, it’s a bit questionable that she’s looking at a dead teenager on her table and wondering what information she can get out of him, but at the same time, there could be useful information in yuuji’s biology that shows what makes him a successful vessel, at least as far as shoko is aware. useful knowledge that could be used to find another suitable vessel to continue killing sukuna’s power, one finger at a time.

she even says to gojo “who do you think i am?” when he tells her to make her examination of yuuji worth it, implying that this is a trait that those around her are aware of.

she’s practical and methodical, logically thinking rather than emotionally thinking, but most importantly, she’s not the type to display her feelings.

she’s exactly the type to understand the reasoning behind yuuta’s plan and accept it as a logical last ditch effort, and she’s also the type to store her true feelings about it away to process over a cigarette (or several) at a more convenient time. asking her to do anything else would be asking her to change as a character.

i hope this doesn’t come across as me being unsympathetic to gojo’s dehumanization and being turned into a weapon, i think it’s upsetting for sure (but i respect the narrative choice, i think it’s an interesting way to bring out themes). mostly, i think that shoko, both by the narrative and by the fandom, is only perceived in geto & gojo’s shadow, and i wanted to draw attention to her as a person.

i’m sick of reading the “shoko’s a cold-hearted traitor” comments on different platforms bc i think it’s not true, and i think asking her to act differently removes her autonomy as a character and forces her to be nothing but a supporting role to gojo, rather than her own character.

hopefully this makes some sense dkskld

[bsof-maarav]

it's good this is my only social media and that i've insulated myself from the worst of this place. i'm not watching that video. i understand the value in bearing witness. but for me, it's like this. i know what's been happening to the hostages already, i don't need to be convinced. i don't want to violate them further by watching the beginning of the worst part of their lives and i don't want to be even more secondhand traumatized either. it would make me less, not more, able to do what i can do to be of use to the hostages.

but even more than i'm not watching that video, i'm not watching the absolutely psychopathic response to it by the mobs who are indulging in an orgy of probably the two oldest forms of hatred in the world--misogyny and antisemitism.

when i heard this video would be released, i had that impulse to hope that maybe now my former friends and community would finally get it. but it's not the case. we've all known this whole time. there's been no mystery about what kind of violence the go-pro wearing terrorists are perpetrating. we've already seen enough to know, even without seeking it out. journalists have described it thoroughly as well. if someone says they need to see something more explicit for "proof," they're nothing but consumers of terrorist torture porn. it's pure רַע

i'm not even going to try writing any appeals about these womens' humanity because anyone who doesn't get it, that's because they don't want to get it and they probably never will. they're getting off on this dehumanizing violence and trying to join it as part of the virtual mob. they're empty people and they are not going to change.

we are looking directly at this hate, some of us for the first time, and it's a window through time, through which we can see what many generations of Jews, and particularly Jewish women, have seen before. the violence and hatred is unchanging. only the technology of the violence has changed. the violence itself has not. the hatred has not. we know more about every previous age now, more about how our ancestors' hearts felt when they were breaking, the fear and anger, the determination to survive and make something better.

it's unbearable to know how outnumbered we are, how much of the world is morally and ethically dead when it comes to us, and how many of them accept, deny, are indifferent to, or celebrate this violence against us. it always has been unbearable, untenable, and yet we're here: the latest in a long line of generations who move forward even when it feels impossible, and do what we can to make a better world for the next ones with the conviction that no one should be hurt like this. never again.

and now i'm going back to listening to Israeli music. because i try to experience some kind of peace and calm each day, whatever i can, so i will have some strength to send. through davening, i try to send strength to the hostages to help them survive. we're one family, and all deeply connected. i have to hope that it helps in some way.

if you want to say Mi Sheberach and Tehillim for these women and don't know how, please reach out. or just daven from the heart for them, dedicate it to their merit, say each of their names out loud. light an extra Shabbat candle for them. set an extra place at your table. put something about them in a public place to make their reality present there. you'll have to protect it from attack. but do it anyway.

and if you want to know what you can do to pressure your political representatives or organizations to do something to free these captives, and all of the captives, i'll be here to talk about that as well.

[zukosdualdao]

just… the absolute trust between zutara in the finale is unreal. after zuko’s impromptu training attack session, yes, katara is surprised and even somewhat angry as she confronts him, but when she says “you could have hurt aang!” all it reminds me of is the fact that just a few episodes ago, she literally threatened to kill him if he ever gave her a reason to think he might so something to hurt aang. but here, now, even as she’s confronting him, she just… waits for him to explain, and she actually sees and agrees with his point once zuko tells the gaang about ozai’s plan.

there is also the absolutely, 100% synchronized way they fight during the simulated training session, something that calls back to their synchronization and teamwork in the southern raiders, and that inherently shows a lot of trust and understanding between them.

katara is the one who initially asks zuko what they should do after aang disappears. everyone else agrees, but it's katara who trusts him enough to position him, not just to herself but to everyone else, as someone they should listen to because of his history, skill, and experience, especially noteworthy because the reason she gives—“you are sort of the expert at tracking the avatar”—is what used to make him untrustworthy in their eyes. they’ve come such a long way.

then katara notices zuko freeze and sit in front of iroh’s tent, and when she asks if he’s okay, he just… completely trusts her with exactly what he’s feeling, and if he’s even a little worried that what he’s saying might cause her to act derisively, because what he’s referencing here is also what katara was angry and hurt about, he doesn’t show it. he just so completely trusts her with it, and her insistence that iroh will forgive him is born from her own trust of zuko, and she's able to tell him what he needs to hear because she was once in iroh's position and zuko proved his genuine remorse and care to her.

then, of course, we've got zuko not missing a beat as he asks katara to be the one to come with him to confront azula, and her ready acceptance. they make a good team, and they know it.

but when they get there and azula challenges zuko to an agni kai - though she initially has misgivings, katara ultimately trusts zuko when he says he can handle it and understands that he doesn't want her to get hurt if she doesn't have to. (an aspect of zuko's "i can't explain it, but she's slipping" line that i think gets underexamined, btw, is that that's not an inherently good thing for them. yes, maybe that means zuko will be able to take her, particularly because he knows azula and her fighting style well. but someone who is "slipping" is also, in this case, desperate, and more prone to being reckless with people's lives. zuko tries to mitigate that by fighting her alone, but it doesn't work because azula can't follow the terms she sets when she realizes she's losing.)

the lightning scene is a really interesting example of trust as it relates to zuko and katara, because to me, the emphasis there isn't quite so much on zuko and katara trusting each other. there's barely time for katara to think through what will happen to as azula aims for her or wonder what zuko will do, after all, and zuko is probably in too much pain and too out of it to think about katara coming to try to heal him. (though if they did have the time and mental faculties to think it through, i think they would both 120 percent trust the other to help them.)

instead, the emphasis is on the audience trusting the characters. from the moment zuko sees where azula's aiming, he doesn't hesitate, doesn't even think about, just. immediately jumps in front of the lightning before it can reach katara. i've said this before, but as soon as he understood what was happening, there was just no chance of that lightning ever getting to katara and that's the point. we've seen what zuko looks like when he's hesitating or conflicted, and the difference is stark. the show never wants you to question exactly what zuko will do, that he refuses to let katara get heart, that he'll save her.

and for her part, katara immediately runs to try and save zuko despite azula still being around and attacking, and tries again before realizing she needs to defeat azula in order to do so. but the entire scene of katara's defeating her, while obviously heroic and emblematic of katara's power and the culmination of her arc as a girl whose culture and identity was nearly stripped away from her to being a master waterbender, is also framed as katara defeating azula so she can get to zuko. she would have done it anyways, yes, but in this context, right now, she is fighting azula so she can get to zuko to heal him.

here, in the narrative culmination of their arcs together, it shows not just that they trust each other, but asks the audience to not doubt the development of the dynamic that’s been built, to trust that they will take care of each other. and they do.

[darklinaforever]

"I will never understand why people ship them together when the Cat King is just SO nonconsensual and downright creepy towards Edwin. What are people even seeing??"

"Also his apparent idea of romance is trying to coerce Edwin and then trapping him to subject him to continual harassment like dude enough is enough"

I still remind you that without the Cat King, Edwin would probably have had no development in his feelings and his sexuality.

It is literally the fact that the Cat King blocked him in town and tried to seduce him that causes a positive development in Edwin, with his iconic confession to Charles. Without Cat King, there's none of this.

And again, in case these people forget... Edwin's punishment was literally an equivalent of what he did to a cat. The punishment was fair.

Also I call him back, but Edwin seemed very, very willing to the Cat King's advances. I even dare to say that our Cat King sabotaged himself by putting the bracelet on Edwin because otherwise, Edwin would clearly have let himself be kissed and maybe even more.

Edwin did not perceive the Cat King's advances as harassment. On the contrary, deep down, he liked them. It felt good to be desired like that. His whole body language shows he was enjoying this.

And the Cat King being visibly strongly linked to desires, and more particularly Edwin's desires in the logic of the scenario, something tells me that he must have felt it. The Cat King was content to flirt with someone he liked and who he felt liked in return.

Even when the Cat King forced Edwin to tell the truth, it may seem immoral, but it was a good thing for Edwin's character development and even just a good thing in the sense that it allowed him to unravel a weight by confessing something that visibly weighed him down. We can see him nodding very briefly and discreetly when the Cat King tells him that he shouldn't feel better after revealing this ?

I'm tired of seeing this type of person spouting their bullshit. It seems like they're purposely watching the show with their eyes closed. Either that or they don't have an education in media analysis.

I personally believe that what must annoy these people a lot is the fact that even their precious little Edwin, whose honor and physical integrity they are trying to defend at all costs, canonically has a big crush on the Cat King and was completely ready to be kissed by him during their literally first interaction which they like to describe as assault. 😂

Also, even though most of us Catwin shippers would like them to be endgame, we are well aware that it's a low probability and that Charles will surely eventually realize that he romantically loves Edwin in return. On the other hand, these people who spit on the character of the Cat King seem to simply refuse to recognize his importance in Edwin's sexual and romantic journey, trying to portray him as a disgusting abuser who would have traumatized the poor Edwin when just... no.

It's not very complicated to understand what we like about the Cat King and his relationship with Edwin. But for that, these people would already have to have the descent to understand the basis of the character. He is fully present to serve Edwin's positive emotional and sexual development. Without the Cat King, Edwin would probably never have been pushed against the wall in order to fully assume who he is. What the Cat King brings to Edwin is very beautiful and important. And for this to happen, Edwin obviously has to actually feel things for the Cat King. But these people really don't seem ready to hear that either. Basically, we like this relationship because it is well written with a goal and complex characters sharing a connection to tell it to us.

[howmanyholesinswisscheese]

Sherlock & Co Headcanons

This list got SO LONG, SO QUICKLY, but here y'all are. Nobody asked, but I sure as hell will deliver.

Sherlock comes into John's room at night sometimes when he can't sleep. John lets him snuggle up in bed and wraps his arms around him like a koala, and - as long as John's breathing is acceptable - Sherlock falls swiftly asleep to the rise and fall of his chest. After a few times, Sherlock observes a notable decrease in John's nightmares and starts joining him in bed more often, even when he's not tired.

Mariana is one of those rare people who Microsoft Excel gets along with. She has magic powers for sure.

YOU GET A QPR, YOU GET A QPR, EVERYBODY GETS A QPR

On the topic of google docs in the latest episode, Sherlock's gmail is a random string of numbers like a default wifi password because "sholmes@gmail.com" was taken and that was obviously the next possible option. Mariana's job is infinitely harder because of this.

They have movie nights.

John tried once to get the others into football. Neither of them saw the appeal of it but they watched a game with him anyway out of some strange obligation and a hefty amount of coercion. Also there was popcorn. The joy John radiated when Swindon Town scored a goal was absolutely worth it all.

Carol Watson ships it.

CANE USER JOHN CANE USER JOHN CANE USER JOHN

John hates using his cane, like genuinely loathes it. He's convinced he'll get looks for it or seem like he's faking. And what would Mariana and Sherlock think about him as a colleague?? One morning, though, after a particularly physically taxing case, he woke to an awful flare up. When he reluctantly swiped the cane from the corner where it had been gathering dust so far and made his way into the kitchen for breakfast, Mariana and Sherlock didn't even bat an eye - Mariana did ask if he'd like to sit down while she made him toast, which he gratefully accepted. Archie did try to gnaw on it, though. He uses the cane a bit more often, now.

John and Mariana learned BSL for Sherlock's bad days. They have intricate and heated discussions from across the room entirely in sign language when others are around and nobody can understand them. It's hilarious to watch - well, hilarious from their perspective, at least.

They fall asleep on the couch an inordinate number of times.

One time, Sherlock made John and Mariana breakfast. The two of them spent a very long time trying to figure out whether he was high, delusional, or both.

Clients are generally confused by the whole trio's relationship dynamic. Slay. That's exactly what they're going for.

Honestly I'm 100% vibing with the poly hcs going around. Consider: poly qpr???

Short king John. You agree. Reblog.

Mariana consistently steps out of the flat looking drop down gorgeous because she's awesome like that, whereas Sherlock looks like he's just been dragged out of bed (he probably has been) and John exclaims in pleasant amusement whenever he finds bits of his breakfast in his stubble. They make the perfect trio.

Sherlock is tall enough to rest his chin on top of John's head. He does it like some sort of clingy cat whenever he's tired and John's back is turned. It's adorable. He's recently been experimenting with slinking his arms around John's waist as he does so, yielding gentle chuckles that he feels rather than hears. The results have been a smashing success.

Mariana was school captain.

John drinks juice straight from the carton like a heathen (which is fine because Sherlock hates the stuff - the pulp gets stuck in his teeth - and Mariana has her own food downstairs).

Sherlock really does play the violin at horrific hours. The neighbors hate him, but it actually puts John to sleep when he's not playing the violent, jerky melodies of a tricky case.

Sherlock and Victor Trevor. I'm surprised this isn't already canon. They happened. Whatever "happened" means is irrelevant - they happened.

Sherlock really likes rainbow sour straps.

MORE TO COME PROBABLY

[yuri-is-online]

I really love Sebek and Epel and Deuce

Sebek's Yutu would be a tad hilarious but also kinda sad because his dad MAY OR MAY NOT BE ALIVE because man

Malleus :(

Epel's Yutu tho......

I saw a fic where Epel can use a gun (mentioned in passing) so I'm imagining that while Epel's Yutu is a great farmer just like his dad

He's also got a rifle :)

You have given me a vision... the one thing Epel! Yutu wants... is to be a cowboy. Can you picture a baby who looks a lot like Epel with a little cowboy hat and boots, he'd be so cute. Also, I was having brain rot and decided to introduce one of the friends lovely @archetypal-archivist helped create for Yutu! Please check out their Azul! Yutu posting it's very good and I love it sososo much. Unfortunately this post does not feature Epel riding on a horse, I'll have to fix that sometime. And get back to Sebek later.

notes: they/them used for Yuu, context on the fyuuture kid au can be found here and here. For more fyuutre kid au, please check out the series section of my masterlist.

Yutu's earliest memory is of apples.

His parent had him in a sling as they worked, picking and packing the fruit as they softly hummed a lullaby to soothe his grumpy mood. He never was able to get over how big an orchard could be, even when he was old enough to walk under the trees and play with the other workers children something about that sea of greenery just felt magical. Like if he really focused the outside world would cease to be and he could wake up in a land of nothing but him, Yuu, and the acceptance you can only ever find in nature.

But that's not how things ever went. When he opened his eyes Yuu would pack him up and they would move to follow the harvest until the winters shut things down and it was back to that god awful place Yuu had been born in. He was glad to move away when Yuu found them a permanent place to stay when he turned 10, gladder still for it to be a farm even if it didn't have the orchards he loved so much. The old couple that hired Yuu on were impressed with how deeply the single parent cared for their son, and how eager the son was to to help his parent. It was the perfect set up for an ideal, if difficult, childhood that would nurture Yutu in to a strong young man.

But this isn't the happy family future, it's the bad one. And things were always going to go wrong sooner rather than later.

Mixing things up from the other posts, Yuu feels particularly drawn to farms and farm work when thinking about Yutu's father and ends up crisscrossing their country as a migrant farm worker until they're offered a full time position as a farm hand they happily accept in the hopes of stabilizing Yutu's education. Yutu genuinely loved his childhood and grew up having a deep respect for manual labor and agriculture. He assumes Yuu must have met his father while traveling and had a brief relationship that produced him, but accepts that whatever accident caused Yuu's memory loss will keep him from ever really knowing if that was the case. Yuu impresses on him that his dad was a hard worker with a bit of a temper who never backed down from a challenge. They tease him that he gets his "cute" side from his Pappa, which Yutu likes about as much as Epel probably would.

He's doing his time in the short king mines, Yutu won't hit his growth spurt until around 17 and how tall he gets is from that is up to you, but if he stays short just know he is not happy about it at all. Unless someone brings up the fact he could probably have a career as a professional jockey and then he will maybe think about it as being a blessing. Maybe. Yutu learned to ride pretty early on in life and he loves doing it, but he doesn't really want to race horses. He'd much rather be a cowboy with his own little farm and a family of his own with a big orchard to tend to. He's got big dreams of one day being able to introduce his partner to Yuu and give them a nice place to retire to.

Plays outside by himself a lot. There are some kids at school he befriends, but a lot of their parents are wary about letting their kids hang out with him at his house. Yuu is seen as a bit weird, even if the old couple they work for is well liked most people in town know their kids who really dislike Yuu and Yutu for reasons that escape Yutu but his parent seems to understand. "They think they're protecting their parents." As Yutu grows he thinks it has to be more about money, he and Yuu love working the farm but their kids all have different jobs they got college degrees for so they probably want to sell the land when their parents die. He's right about that last bit of course, and willing to let Yuu give them some charity but he doesn't think they care about their parents near as much as he cares about his. Otherwise they'd at least be nice to someone their parents considered part of the family and not ship their mom off to a nursing home before their dad was even in the ground. Or evict the outcasts they considered part of the family too.

You have no idea what to do as you pack up your few belongings, Yutu can tell that you are stressed and it makes him mad. He tries to focus on helping, taping things up and dragging them out to the beat up car as you listlessly stare at the kitchen sink. After he moves the second box he notices you're not packing anymore and goes to check what's wrong and his instincts begin screaming something's wrong. Your eyes are unfocused, staring down at a framed picture he remembers well.

"Do you ever think about how all of this is my fault?" You sound a world a way and Yutu guesses that you are, the photo of a younger you with a toddler him in a sling under the apple orchards stares back at you both questioning just where is it you plan to go from here. It can't be back on the open road, school is about to start and the entire point of staying here was to make things better for him. Yutu is about to ask you the same thing when he hears the wind pick up, and is that a carriage he hears? "If I hadn't forgotten you, then maybe I could have found a way back..."

"What in the goddamn-" Yutu is cut off by the glass being blown out and he dives on instinct to cover you as the world spins around him.

"I'm real sorry Epel, you don't have to forgive me but... even after all this time. I still love you... I still love you and how sad is that..."

Good news, Yutu doesn't have to sleep and a shitty motel tonight. Bad news, he's in the middle of some fancy private school shit and his parent is flat lining on their floor. He starts screaming bloody murder until Crewel comes and scoops him up and ushers him off to the hospital wing where they have a very tense conversation. Yes, he does belong here actually he was supposed to have been born in this world with it's magic, monsters, and annoying private school uniforms he finds himself shoved into and marched back out to that fuck ass mirror to hear what dormitory he belongs in. The fuck is a Pom-e-fee-or and why does that girl with the 2000s throwback hairstyle look like she wants to kill him for asking that?

That girl is the Vice Warden of his new house and she absolutely hates him on sight. Like, she's heard about Epel before, duh who hasn't? He performed in the VDC with the Vil Schoenheit and he had like a fun Magicam account where he promoted his family's apple farm. Didn't Yuu tell him anything about that? Ugh guess she'll have to do it and hey why is hE RUNNING AWAY DOES ELEGANCE MEAN NOTHING TO YOU?!?!?! WHERE IS YOUR POMEFIORE DIGNITY YUTU DON'T THINK SHE CAN'T CATCH YOU BECAUSE SHE'S GOT HEELS ON BITCH!!!

It's exactly where Epel's Pome Pride was when he first joined to dorm, down a drain someplace because Yutu thinks his dorm is the pits. Growing up like he did made him starkly aware of just how different people with money see people like him and instilled a deep hatred of people who make their personality their skincare routine. He thinks the way rich people spend their money is boring and hates that his dorm mates are spending their precious time in a literal apocalypse doing their make up and hair. His Vice Warden is irritated with him and asks what he does then when he can't control the circumstances around him and Yutu goes to snap back at her but finds he doesn't really have an answer.

"Have you even tried taking care of yourself before?" Peyton is looking over his hair in genuine disgust, it's different than the resting bitch face she usually has. Yutu has seen enough of both to be able to tell the difference now.

"I mean I don't not take care of it." Because Yuu had tried to get him to do things like a skincare routine before, and come to think of it they had phrased the reasoning much like Peyton is now. Take good care of yourself. His Vice Warden rolls her eyes and turns towards her vanity, the amount of homemade products and their labels immediately tells him they aren't all for her hair type.

"Yeah but you don't do it well. Look I'm not crazy about bougie stuff either but like, you just feel so much better when you put the effort into yourself and not what other people say about you." She hesitates before meeting his eyes in the mirror and adding. "Trust me, I'd know." And Yutu believes her.

It has got to be hard being a vocaloid stan in a dorm with a literal ballroom.

Yutu really does belong in Pomefiore. He's great with alchemy and magical plants, just like his dad Crewel is all to happy to tell him. They talk a bit about his dad and the situation in the Shaftlands, how no one has heard from Epel since the blot took over and it's insanely difficult to get anywhere near there since the Phantom Hunter makes your life a living hell if you try. Most people think he's dead, but Crewel isn't so sure. He thinks that the various communities across Mt. Moln could easily sustain themselves if they barricaded against the blot monsters, but they also don't have a lot of mages so actually defending themselves could be difficult. Then again this does mean that the stronger phantoms would be less interested, so who knows. In the climate of the day though it is probably best to brace for the worst.

The sports clubs still exist in a less intense manner than before to give people different ways to relax and things to do. Since Yutu loves horses he tried the equestrian club out before deciding it was way too "fussy" and settling in to the board game club since he never really had enough friends to actually play them with before. It's a lot of fun to compare all the ways these games are similar to ones he knows about from Yuu's world and yet completely different. It helps nurse his sadness over losing Yuu since they were the only one who ever played these sorts of games with him and he has fond memories of how they totally never let him win.

He takes a great deal of comfort in knowing his dad had similar struggles with his dorm placement and is overjoyed to learn about the family farm! He wishes he was there right now and drives Peyton absolutely bonkers telling her all about the tests he's run on the soil around campus, how he thinks blot might effect plant growth, and the ways he can think of to combat it. She's crying please just go talk to the Ignyhide kids they totally care about that stuff probably! His lectures end up being useful when they're finally unable to avoid going out on missions any longer as understanding the signs of heavy pollution makes the stronger phantoms easier to track.

It's a realization Epel has also had, secluded in his little village as he is. Harveston has heavily fortified it's position and bulked up it's population with the survivors of other surrounding communities. They have been gifted the ability to endure, but Epel doesn't know if their community will survive long term unless the phantoms are dealt with. The surviving members of his family from the Queendom told awful stories when they retreated here, if that's what's going on in the rest of the world he imagines S.T.Y.X. is probably involved so he tries to keep his eyes peeled for anything like their tech. He manages to find a busted drone in the snow one day and brings it home to work on it whenever he gets a spare moment. It helps him ignore his grief over losing Yuu, his child, and contact with all of his friends. When he's focused on not breaking the drone further, he can convince himself he's either worked through that already or that once he fixes it he will have everyone he lost back at home with him where they belong.

Unit 7954 cackles back to life with a stream of what sounds like a stream of curse words, but Idia has certainly never heard any of them before. He knows that joyful cackle though and he thinks he must have stayed up too long again because he as to be hallucinating. There is no way he's actually looking at Epel, but the whooping before he shyly calms himself down reassures him he is. The two frantically talk about the situation in the Shaftlands and the number of survivors before Idia smacks himself and remembers to mention Yutu's existence. Epel falls off his chair in surprise at the news and Idia is worried he's killed the man before he hears his sobbing. Breaking through the front lines of the Fairest Queen might be impossible, but a video call now that Epel has fixed the drone isn't and Ortho is nice enough to set one up.

"Sevens yer big." Yutu feels like he's 10 feet tall when he hears the drawl of his father's voice. "Bigger than I was at yer age I reckon." The man is certainly taller than him, with lavender waves he's tied neatly back to let him see better under his thick winter clothing. His smile is so warm and friendly Yutu wishes he could dive through the screen and be there with him right this instant. "'s ok if ya don't know where to start with the questions, I bet you got a bunch."

"Why'd you marry Yuu?" It's not what he expected to ask first. He wanted to talk about school, or ask something practical like tips about finding his unique magic or fighting monsters. But that was what he really wanted to know wasn't it? Why Yuu was so important, if he was important to this man and his different accent even after all these years. And the happy smile that relaxes his father screams that he is, it's as if he's shed years of stress and suffering just thinking about his parent.

"Be easier to list the reasons I didn't like them since there aren't any." Epel closes his eyes and thinks about that first moment he realized how much he liked you, tucked away studying in the library and bickering about how to do an assignment as he wondered why you were even there and if you thought he was cool at all. "Since Yuu was from another world a lot of us felt like they deserved a good home here, but that just meant I wanted to invite them over for the summer and stuff like that. Didn't mean I wanted to spend the rest of my life with them, that's what I thought at first anyway. But well, you know Yuu pretty well. They always somehow know where the good lies in even the worst of people. Or at least they knew where it was in me and made sure to believe in it right up until the last day I saw them." They both quiet at the thought of that, Yutu wondering if he should push further before Epel quietly adds. "I hope you know they'd be stupid proud of you for everything. Pomefiore isn't an easy dorm to be a part of but if you put in the work you'll really thrive there, and the both of us really believe you've got what it takes to do that yeah? If you'll let me speak on their behalf anyway."

"Of course you can." Yutu does his best not to cry, but Epel can tell it isn't going to work. "You- you miss them too after all." And isn't that the truth.

The plan to go back in time is decided on before the blockade around Harveston can be breached. Epel gives Yutu as much information as he can about the past and what to expect before he goes, making him promise to hug the younger him at least once in the hopes the memory will somehow flow across time and he'll get a taste of what it's like to hold his son before he sends him off with a "good luck" and "kick their ass!" Even though neither of them fully know who is responsible just yet.

Epel! Yutu has an easier time adjusting to the past than a lot of the other Yutu's thanks to Epel's descriptions of people like- well mostly just his description of Rook. He still comes off as weird but in an endearing way as opposed to an "I need to run for my existence literally" type of way. Unfortunately his dad might have buried the memory of just how in his feelings and jealous he got about Yuu pre relationship. He's rolling his eyes and ignoring everything Yutu says because he wants to monopolize your attention and Yutu is honestly kind of living for it. He thinks it's super cool that his dad is willing to fight for Yuu's affections even though he could be considered to have no chance. He's short, more "cute" than he is "hot," and poor by a lot of people's standards. Sure, Yutu loves the farm life and Yuu must have to raise him in it but if that isn't how you grew up he's super surprised you chose Epel. Surprised and grateful because Yutu really loves his dad.

That love gets through to Epel somewhat, he's super confused as to why the new guy thinks he's so cool AND why he wants to complain about it. Isn't that what he wants? To be seen as cool, strong, and reliable? Well sure but he wants you to see him that way more than anything, it'd make him so happy if he had your approval. He's happy to have your friendship but- well it would just be nice to have you around forever. He's going to miss you when you go back to your world.

Yutu considers re joining the board games club to get close to Idia, but sees Azul and moonwalks his way out of there in a move that definitely doesn't put him on either of their radars and announces to Yuu that he will be starting a book club instead. He does this so he has a reasonable excuse to spend a bunch of time in the library and request access to various archives but Sebek joins since it meets once a week on Saturdays and railroads it into being like. An actual book club. They have other members too and Yutu hates it because he isn't super fond of wasting his time reading things unrelated to his mission but some of the stuff Sebek recommends is good he guesses.

Yutu thinks he's doing a good job of flying under the radar of suspicion, and to be fair Epel and Yuu are a bit too caught up in each other to notice the stranger things about Yutu but Sebek is not and convinces them to surveil where he goes after the book club meetings. Grim is on board just because he's tired of watching Epel and Yuu make heart eyes at each other and he thinks he can get tuna out of it so they make a day of it. It turns out Yutu goes to Craneport every weekend without fail to meet up with... someone. He goes to an apartment building and it would be a bit too obvious if they followed him in there without more evidence (Yuu has to be the one to point this out because you know Sebek and Epel are ready to charge.) So they keep this up for a couple of weeks until one day Yutu cancels the book club meeting and leaves campus early. This time he heads towards the mines Yuu explored with Ace and Deuce for the mage stone that second night they were at NRC. There are several people there, and Yutu does something he's never done, not even around Yuu who he has described as a friend. He lets down his hood.

The shock of lavender that tumbles out from the hood has all three of you tripping over yourselves to cover your mouths. His facial expressions, mannerisms, and even the way he goes the pull his hair screams that he has to be related to Epel. He's admitted to being from your world, and the way he speaks, the shape and color of his eyes and the way he laughs have to come from you. Sebek isn't able to keep it in any more as he starts crying, then loudly denying he's crying, congratulating you on your marriage since you are a friend of the young master before yelling at Yutu for acting in a manner that could have brought dishonor to his parents.

All of this scares the phantom Yutu's friends were hunting out of hiding and forces everyone to fight it. Yutu is extremely flustered from Sebek's scolding but he is nowhere near as embarrassed as Epel who immediately starts taking it out on the phantom and cussing up a storm. It's one of the quicker fights Yutu has had with a blot monster, and he isn't really complaining when Epel drags him and Yuu into the Dwarf's Cottage for a chat.

"So I'm yer Pa, Yuu's m' spouse and ya didn't think to spit that out 'fer you went fighting shit fucks BECAUSE?" Epel is steaming mad, he's almost as red as Riddle which Yutu would be impressed by if he wasn't so embarrassed.

"Um. Cause I didn't think you would-"

"YER GODSDAMNED RIGHT I WOULDN'TA BELIEVED YA! At first anyway." Normal, or would it be fake? Neither Yutu supposes, calm Epel is back as he crosses his arms and really looks at him. "You look like me, and you sound like them. I bet there's things you can tell me about myself you'd have no way of knowing otherwise so why bother hiding yourself? Don't you want my help?"

"Our help." You speak up immediately and Epel nods, affirming what you said slightly embarrassed he let his insecurities forget that you were here too for a moment. Yutu doesn't answer immediately, instead he looks very firmly at the ground as if he would rather be anywhere else than admit what he's about to.

"... not if it means you both die. I- I don't think I can watch that happen again." And oh seven does that change the tone of the conversation, because what does he mean by again?

Yutu refuses to answer until he gets to hug Epel. He expects it to be awkward, but it isn't at all. His dad squeezes him so tightly Yutu is sure his future self has got to feel it as he slowly lays out his story about the bad future and how he thinks it got to be there. About growing up in Yuu's world and the pain of watching you die. Epel is mad as hell to hear about it and swears it won't happen and is halfway out the door before he even has time to process it. Everyone brings Sebek up to speed, who insists on informing the young master immediately; something everyone agrees is a good course of action given how Briar Valley was the first place they know of being effected.

Malleus is delighted that everyone agreed to invite him on their secret mission, but also deeply disturbed by what hears. As Briar Valley's King, it is his responsibility to make sure nothing like Yutu is describing happens for no other reason than it would harm his subjects, but he can't help but be personally insulted that whoever did this would rob his human friend of their happiness too. The only re-payment he requests is that when (not if) he saves the future that Epel and Yuu invite him to the wedding, baby shower, christening, and any other important milestone they have in their lives. It's an easy enough thing to agree to Epel thinks. He has the approval of Ace and Deuce already, so to have Malleus announce he accepts him as your man too? That's all of the family you've collected in this world so... it's not too much trouble to ask you to join his, right? He won't be tricked this time, promise. You will walk this life hand in hand until the eternal sleep takes you both, and that won't happen until Yutu is practically an old man himself. And you of all people should know what Epel can do when he sets his mind to it; he got you to fall in love with him after all, didn't he?

[babybells123]

Regarding the original outline + some thoughts on Jon & Sansa… 

This is a long one. Buckle up.

If there is one thing I have picked up on in the ASOIAF fandom, it’s the knee-jerk negative reaction towards any theory/parallel/connection between Jon and Sansa. This was exacerbated by the show, of course but even now - five years later, there is an insane amount of vitriol that my brain is unable to comprehend. And here’s the rub; the infamous 1993 outline is the irony of it all. 

In a fandom that is a-okay with *certain* incest ships (r.e D@enerys x Jon, D@emon x Rh@enyra, Jon x Aria), as well as blatantly pedophilic ships (Sansa x S@ndor, Sansa x Littlefinger, Sansa x Tyrio*), how is Jon x Sansa the worst of them all? I’m going to pin it down to audience engagement with the show, particularly around the later seasons when Jon + Sansa reunite and people began to ‘ship’ them. So many believe that is how the ship took off, and thus it is mere crack - but there are posts tracking back to 2012/2013 theorising the possibility of Jon x Sansa. Was it spurred by the show? Certainly! But it does not take away from the fact that people were making valid arguments and essays before the general fandom was even comprehending a Jon and Sansa reunion on screen. And people were open to discussing/debating it with general civility (a far cry from today). 

I’m 90% certain people weren’t criticising those who began to believe in Jon x Aria when the outline was leaked…(though there were most definitely shippers before). But we never see the same level of vitriol towards Jon x Aria shippers, which is strange. 

In any case, let’s talk about said outline, some of the key points - and how I believe GRRM made the switch from Jon x Aria to Jon x Sansa. I’ll be drawing from GRRM’s past works, interviews, art, and his personal life - as well as other potential literary influences. I'll be linking metas along the way, but without further ado - let's go.

In October 1993, GRRM wrote a pitch outline for a publishing company. It was three pages long and conveyed alongside the first thirteen chapters of AGOT (170 pages). The three paged letter was leaked on twitter in February 2014, though there were multiple aspects parts blacked out. Keep in mind though, this may not be the *only* outline that exists. There are multiple outlines that have never been publicly released (and will likely remain that way). 

But let’s just focus on the 1993 outline, since we’re privy to the details. The thirteen chapters attached to the outline did *not* yet have a Sansa POV, and that’s because in this outline, she wasn’t listed as a key character.

The key characters were; Bran, Jon, Tyrion, D@enerys, and Aria.  

The first thirteen chapters were; Prologue; Bran I, Catelyn I, D@enerys I, Eddard I, Jon I, Catelyn II, Aria I, Bran II, Tyrion I, Jon II, D@enerys II, Eddard II, Tyrion II. 

I’ve seen people claim that Sansa isn’t an important character since she wasn’t listed as a key character, but they conveniently leave out the fact that a) her chapters were not yet written, b)she was given an entirely different more passive storyline in this outline, c) she dies, d) this was far far before GRRM fleshed out his characters entirely - Sansa took on a life of her own and she became her own solid complex character with an arc in 4 out of 5 of the books; 25 chapters. 

In fact, since the books have been published GRRM has regarded Sansa and the Starks as a main character as well;

Collider: In creating this world, did you start out with one family and then branch off into the rest of the world?

GRRM: Well, the Starks are certainly the centre of the story, when it begins. It all begins at Winterfell, with occasional cuts to Daenerys across the ocean, because there was no way I could get her into Winterfell. But, we bring all the characters together at Winterfell, and they’re all there for a while before they start to go their separate ways ... .But, the Starks are the centre of the book and, to a lesser extent, the Lannisters. They are still the major players. 

Collider: When you went into this, did you intentionally take the children, put them in an adult setting and force them to be in very adult and complex situations?

GRRM: Yeah, the children were always at the heart of this. The Stark children, in particular, were always very central. Bran is the first viewpoint character that we meet, and then we meet Jon and Sansa and Arya and the rest of them. It was always my intention to do that.” 

Collider report.

May 2016 - Balticon. 

(…) George said he was “pissed” that the outline was posted in the office building and that someone took photos and shared them. He said it was a letter for him and the publisher only. He was very firm when telling this and it showed on his face.

He then said that he is not good with writing outlines, making book deadlines, and that often in outlines he was “making shit up”, and “characters changed along the way”.

He went straight from talking about the references in the actual books, to the “differences” in the outline from then to now. He did say that he still knows who sits the iron throne and the end game of the main 5, but also included Sansa, but did not give any details (for obvious reasons).

[question if he is still going with the 1991 ending]

“Yes, I mean, I did partly joke when I said I don’t know where I was going. I know the broad strokes, and I’ve known the broad strokes since 1991. I know who’s going to be on the Iron Throne. I know who’s gonna win some of the battles, I know the major characters, who’s gonna die and how they’re gonna die, and who’s gonna get married and all that. The major characters. 

….

“So a lot of the minor characters I’m still discovering along the way. But the mains-”

[question if he knows Arya’s and Jon’s fates]

“Tyrion, Arya, Jon, Sansa, you know, all of the Stark kids, and the major Lannisters, yeah.”

Balticon report:

“Ah, how innocent I was… little did that guy in the picture imagine that he would be spending most of the next two decades in the Seven Kingdoms of Westeros with Tyrion, Daenerys, Arya, Sansa, Jon Snow, Bran, and all the rest.”

GRRM's live journal:

So Sansa has clearly developed into an important character from GRRM’s words, and the key-characters argument can cease, because It’s very tiring to dispel that when the characters and story took on a life of its own. (I mean, Jaime was meant to remain a villain, but he was clearly given somewhat of a redemption arc in the main series).

I paraphrased what was written here for this whole section, so go check out the longer post!

The Aria in the original outline: 

*NOTE: I am blacking out her actual names in case the wrong people find this post. None of this anti her, please keep that in mind.*

Five central characters will make it through all three volumes, [...] The five key players are Tyrion Lannister, D@enerys Targaryen, and three of the children of Winterfell, Aria, Bran, and the bastard Jon Snow. 

Joffrey will not be sympathetic and Ned [what appears to say] will be accused of treason, but before he is taken he will help his wife and his daughter Aria escape back to Winterfell.

Tyrion Lannister, meanwhile, will befriend both Sansa and her sister Aria, while growing more and more disenchanted with his own family.

When Winterfell burns, Catelyn Stark will be forced to flee north with her son Bran and her daughter Aria. Wounded by Lannister riders, they will seek refuge at the Wall, but the men of the Night's Watch give up their families when they take the black, and Jon and Benjen will not be able to help, to Jon's anguish. It will lead to a bitter estrangement between Jon and Bran. 

Aria will be more forgiving ... until she realises, with terror, that she has fallen in love with Jon, who is not only her half-brother but a man of the Night's Watch, sworn to celibacy. Their passion will continue to torment Jon and Aria throughout the trilogy, until the secret of Jon's true parentage is finally revealed in the last book.

Abandoned by the Night's Watch, Catelyn and her children will find their only hope of safety lies even further north, beyond the Wall, where they fall into the hands of Mance Rayder, the King-beyond-the-Wall, and get a dreadful glimpse of the inhuman others as they attack the wilding encampment. Bran's magic, Aria's sword Needle, and the savagery of their direwolves will help them survive, but their mother Catelyn will die at the hands of the others.

Exiled, Tyrion will change sides, making common cause with the surviving Starks to bring his brother down, and falling helplessly in love with Aria Stark while he's at it. His passion is, alas, unreciprocated, but no less intense for that, and it will lead to a deadly rivalry between Tyrion and Jon Snow

Observations:

Exactly how old is Aria? Is she a warrior princess who cries at songs like her aunt? Does she enjoy/yearn for romance? Is she a stunningly beautiful maiden rivalling that of Cersei? How close were she and Jon? Did they have a good sibling relationship? Or were they distant? Does she look physically different to Jon? Does she have red hair? 

The Sansa of the Original Outline:

‘Each of the contending families will learn it has a member of dubious loyalty in its midst. Sansa Stark, wed to Joffrey Baratheon, will bear him a son, the heir to the throne, and when the crunch comes she will choose her husband and child over her parents and siblings, a choice she will later bitterly rue.’ 

Tyrion Lannister, meanwhile, will befriend both Sansa and her sister Aria, while growing more and more disenchanted with his own family.

Jaime Lannister will follow Joffrey on the throne of the Seven Kingdoms, by the simple expedient of killing everyone ahead of him in the line of succession and blaming his brother Tyrion for the murders. 

More observations:

How old is Sansa? Is she 16? 17? She’s conveyed as a less important character in this outline - why? Queen of the Seven Kingdoms? She dies? Jaime kills her? What is her relationship with Aria like? Are/were they close? Or was Sansa initially meant to be a two-tone villain who betrayed her family? Is she overwhelmingly beautiful? Or is she the plainer sister? 

It’s quite clear that both ASOIAF Aria and ASOIAF Sansa are entirely different characters to their outlined counterparts. 

In the outline, Tyrion sacks and burns Winterfell. In ASOIAF, It’s Theon and later Ramsay who does this. In the outline, it’s Bran, Aria, and Catelyn who go beyond the Wall. In ASOIAF, it’s Bran, Meera, and Jojen (and Hodor). There are a couple of other changes made here, but there seems a pattern where certain acts *still* occur in the main series, they’re just given to different characters (which makes sense, as GRRM grows organically with his characters.)

So, when we take into account the fact of ASOIAF Sansa being considered a main/key character, her marriage to Tyrion, and the possibility of her being the first to reunite with Jon - perhaps GRRM did keep a Stark x Snow romance - but gave it to a different sister. 

In the 2016 Balticon report, GRRM stated he wished that ‘some past things didn’t have such strong foreshadowing and that newer things had stronger foreshadowing.’ You can make a case for J0nrya foreshadowing in the first book, but I’d argue that ACOK/ASOS is where the Jon/Sansa clues and foreshadowing is rife. (and there are certainly Jon/Sansa clues in the first book as well.) 

Now to circle back. The Aria of this outline doesn’t have a personality - none of the characters do, really. We don’t know how old she is. Is she a teenager? Is she close in age to Jon? We know she has her needle, so can infer she is a fighter and spirited, but is there a soft romantic side to her? Does she cry at songs like her aunt Lyanna? Does she yearn for love? Is she immensely beautiful? For a narrative like this? It'd be likely if Jon and Tyrion are fighting to the death over her, sort of like gallant knights fighting each other to win the heart of a fair maiden (very romantic and idealistic, mirroring the songs and the stories).

(This is how I am certainly inferring such a scene would have gone).

The ASOIAF Aria we know and love took on a life of her own. She’s described as plain looking (some envision her to be more beautiful than characters like D@ny, Cersei, and Sansa though). - But just quickly on that matter, Aria is indeed compared to Lyanna in looks and spirit, though Lyanna’s beauty was described as wild and implied as non-conventional; different perspectives have different opinions on her. For example, Cersei, Jaime, Devan, the Maester who wrote the WOIAF don’t consider her anything special. Whereas Ned, Robert, and Rhaegar do. So it’s one of those instances where you aren’t exactly sure. In any case, Aria's looks aren't a driving factor in her arc, and I don’t see ASOIAF Tyrion (as creepy as he is) suddenly falling in love with her due to mere attraction because presently, Aria is all knobbly knees and elbows, stick thin, a child, not a maiden, who will still be a pre-teen at the end of the series, if there is no massive time jump.

SHE'S JUST A BABY.

But then, Tyrion did lust after Sansa, so there’s that… however ….

Sansa’s beauty is a driving force in her narrative arc. She is objectified for her beauty. Preyed upon because of her beauty; in many ways it causes her to suffer. It’s largely why LF is grossly infatuated with her - she’s beautiful like Catelyn. Tyrion is attracted to Sansa and wishes to bed her, the H0und intends to rape her during the Blackwater battle, he also comments on her breasts growing, Joffrey sexually humiliates her in court, Ser Dontos has a pervy infatuation with her, Cersei despises Sansa because she is younger, more beautiful etc which she views as a threat.

So, beauty is pertinent to Sansa’s narrative, and it isn’t vain or shallow to say so because it’s a large part as to why she suffers. And her physical beauty is meant to compliment her indulgence in romantic idealism; knights, chivalry, courtly love, beautiful appearances thus equating to good people. It also contributes to perceptions of Sansa; nothing more than a pretty, stupid girl with naive dreams. 

So back to ASOIAF Aria: Her arc largely surrounds nature & nature, mercy, war trauma and survival, friendship, belonging, and family. For the majority of the story, she is a traumatised 10 year old travelling through a war torn country, witness to awful horrors, forced to assume multiple identities, until she goes to Braavos and begins her faceless man arc. But this is obviously not her endgame - she is going to go home eventually, that is quite clear.

You can argue she had a little crush on Gendry (as a 10 year old would) (and perhaps something may happen with him when she is older, I think GRRM has played with it.) But other than that, romance is not a central part of Aria's arc insofar. For outline Aria it was, but current ASOIAF Aria is on a completely different tangent all together.

(and that poor poor child is suffering immensely while this is all occurring).  Currently, she has no time for/interest in it. She hasn’t been involved in betrothals/marriages, or had men lusting after her (save ‘Mercy’ and people men making brutalising sexual comments towards her). She disguises herself as a boy for a good chunk of the story as it is safer to travel.

No, I’m not trying to reduce any sexual trauma/objectification she suffers, she’s a little girl for heaven’s sake - I’m merely stating that what she is going through is in some ways similar and different to what Sansa is going through. (Who currently is in a in a very Lolita type situation with LF and men sexually intimidating/abusing her has been a key part of her arc - as I said, she suffers significantly due to her beauty. She is something to possess, she isn't real or tangible, she is a beautiful maid with a vast claim to the North.)

Anyway, ASOIAF Aria finds songs and romance ‘stupid.’ 

“Sansa would have shed a tear for true love, but Arya just thought it was stupid.” (Arya VIII ASOS) 

 (but that doesn’t mean she won’t encounter it later in life, it just means that at this point of the story, she isn’t interested/likely won't encounter some epic grand romance that outline Aria was likely destined for. (And she’s 11 for god’s sake!).

‘But Sansa was dreaming of love at that age!’

Sansa has been a romantic idealistic dreamer since she was a little girl. She adored those stories and is the literal embodiment of the mediaeval pre-raphaelite maiden depicted in art. It’s central to her story arc, to her qualities, and how she functions/copes with things around her. “Life is not a song.” Is so fundamental to that.

So to reiterate ASOIAF Aria is a completely different character to outline Aria- for all we know OG Aria was 15 years old, very beautiful to the point of men duelling over her, (just as depicted in art above) likely a romantic heroine, had consistent memory lapses that would cause her to “realise in terror, she had fallen for Jon,” and based off of GRRM’s past works - was probably a redhead. 

“But OG Aria has a sword named needle!”

Indeed, but as I stated, we don’t know anything else about her beyond that. Many have theorised that D@ny and Jon are the epic romance of the series, but it’s clear from this particular outline that GRRM intended for it to be Aria and Jon as the epic major romance of the series. That would mean Aria would have to be a somewhat romantically-inclined character, for this development to appear natural and not forced. Based on her current ASOIAF arc, it doesn’t track for her character to make a sudden 180. Her softness and vulnerable moments come from thinking of her family and home. Insofar, this isn’t equated to yearning for love, romance, children, as Sansa has done from the beginning of the series.

Now, we know GRRM is a self-proclaimed romantic, and ASOIAF Sansa exists very much as a deconstruction of romanticism. 

“He said he is a romantic, in the classical sense. He said the trouble with being a romantic is that from a very early age you keep having your face smashed into the harshness of reality. That things aren’t always fair, bad things happen to good people, etc. he said it’s a realistic world, so romantics are burned quite often. This theme of romantic idealism conflicting with harsh reality is something he finds very dramatic and compelling, and he weaves it into his work.” (2005 interview).

Sansa is arguably, the embodiment of this dismantling. But that doesn’t necessarily mean that love isn’t real, or that it doesn’t deserve to exist in a gritty world such as Westeros. There were many couples who had good, happy marriages, even after war and loss and trauma. For example, apart from the Jon Snow situation, Ned and Catelyn had a remarkably healthy relationship. So it is possible - the takeaway from the series is not that hoping is meaningless, dreams are meaningless, love is meaningless. More so that it is complicated, and it must coexist alongside all the chaos in order to achieve a sort of

equilibrium. A literal ‘Dream of Spring’ a hope for happiness, rather than happiness itself. It tracks with the bittersweet conclusion to the series ; it is a grimdark story, but that doesn’t necessarily mean it’ll be a grimdark ending where everyone good and noble dies and wishes/dreams/innate desires remain unfulfilled. 

In fact, I argue that a lot of them will come true - but at what cost? It’ll be at the cost of loss and grief, of suffering upon suffering, but what’s inherently more powerful, what’s more subversive is having those characters persist and rebuild, regenerate, create a new world where love and chaos undoubtedly exist alongside each other, but just because there is chaos, that does not mean the love is miniscule or cancels out entirely. 

Because if all these characters have the most unsatisfying, awful conclusions known to man, well - what was the point of everything? What was the point of their journeys? This isn’t a nihilistic story, and it won’t have a nihilistic ending like everyone assumes. It’s far more difficult for an author to craft such an ending, balancing things out whilst acknowledging all the loss and still holding out hope for a better future to come. That brighter days will arrive. That winter will end, and spring will be on the horizon.

“We may lose our heads, it’s true. But what if we prevail?” (Davos I ADWD). 

And that right there, sums it up perfectly. 

So you need characters like Sansa, characters like Brienne, D@ny, (you know what let’s just add all the Stark children of the series to the list, because every single character arc is about remaining resilient and prevailing in some way or another). 

But it’s Sansa who exists as the meta character that embodies/indulges in all those romantic ideals that GRRM is intent on exploring - it thus makes perfect sense for it to be her that experiences the romance arc. Many people think she’ll end up with the H0und, or Harry the douchebag, because it’s a part of her growing up, maturing, learning from her negative biases etc etc but she shouldn’t have to be with abusive or douchy men to learn that. She’s already learned and suffered enough. 

“It is my claim they want. No one will ever marry me for love.”

And how utterly heartbreaking that she has resigned to think this, with her arc only mid-way. But importantly, just a few chapters later she enters the garden of undisputed beauty and equates the snow landing on her face with romantic kisses, she dreams of innocence and winterfell, despite lamenting how she doesn’t belong in such a pure world, she steps out into it all the same. And she builds her home in the snow, content and for once - she’s the child she is, the child she is yearning to be.

So Sansa falling in love with Jon makes sense on a characteristic level. It’s something she never would have considered as a sheltered child, not just because he’s her bastard half brother but because he just didn’t exist in her idea of how the world works. He didn’t fit in with her idea of knights, and courtly love and chivalry. He wasn’t a gallant golden prince, he was dark, sulky and brooding. He existed on the parameters of her life, and she was comfortable with that distant association - but she still loved him, and he her. 

Falling in love with Jon would equate to a dismantling of these previous prejudices  she held; he’s utterly unconventional, the opposite of what she has shown attraction to (despite her first ‘love’ being Waymar Royce, who resembles Jon strikingly). The man she never really considered beyond courtesy and some scarce, fond memories - to be the one who restores her faith in men, in love, in dreams. 

“Realising with terror that she has fallen in love with Jon… their passion will continue to torment them.” 

tracks with Sansa’s characterisation particularly, her memory lapses, her clouded judgement, and inability to interpret things correctly (and something as confusing as this would certainly cause her to have some cognitive dissonance going on).

Not to mention caution around well… men. Because who would ever marry her for love? Who would ever take her for true? Love her without expectations and judgement? It’s Jon. Who has been there since the very beginning, who has been a silent unconscious hero, the answer to her prayers, who embodies all those romantic and knightly ideals she has so desperately wanted - despite her being unaware. Who has advocated for her claim - above everyone else.

“No one will ever marry me for love.” And that infamous Jon chapter follows. Jon who is never quite far from Sansa’s suitors. Jon, who has a similar dream of rebuilding Winterfell, of having children named after lost siblings, who wants to woo a girl by giving her a rose and loving beneath the heart tree - the heart of Winterfell. Who would undeniably want to have that beautiful soul-nourishing love he never received as a child, that he believes is perpetually unavailable to him. 

Above all,  they just fit together. It fits with GRRM’s William Faulkner-esque “the human heart in conflict with itself".” And this is a perfectly subversive way of  encapsulating that Jon confusing brotherly love and affection with romance, struggling with the shame of it all - especially post-resurrection, the religious disillusionment that would occur, the notion of Jon being loved by the kind of girl he believed he never had the right to, who his deeply romantic heart is yearned for. (There is a reason GRRM let us know how badly Jon yearns for domesticity, Winterfell love, children, and a wife. He associates his love for Ygritte with her singing, her hair, her smile. He dreams of her tending to him with gentle hands) The simple yet meaningful things that have been denied to him because of his bastardry. And god, what better way to torment these two than by having them fall for each other - realising they fit each other so perfectly, yet tormented by their familial relation. Until, as the outline puts, the parentage is revealed. 

Do I believe they will act on their feelings pre-parentage reveal? No. It’ll likely exist in the subtext, in private thoughts and actions. Angst, guilt. Again, the stuff that GRRM loves - the human heart is in conflict with itself. 

Much like Lord Byron’s ‘The Bride of Abydos.” Where half-siblings fall in love with each other until they realise they are actually cousins. Lord Byron, who was famously in love with his half sister Augusta, who was a stranger to him for a good portion of his life until they properly got to know each other and fell in love. (Who does that sound like?’)

And if you’re wondering how Jon and Sansa could possibly connect to Lord Byron, well there is a ‘Byron the Beautiful’ in Alayne II AFFC, and Alayne I TWOW. GRRM has further instilled characters by the name of “Manfred” which is in reference to Lord Byron’s infamous work of the same name. (I urge you to check out all of Cappy's Byron metas, they are fantastic.

And, Jon has been called a “Brooding, Byronic, romantic heroine whom all the girls love.” GRRM knows what Byronic is inferring - he isn’t daft, he’s a writer - he reads other works and takes influence and sprinkles in so many things. 

A Byronic character involves:

. . romantic melancholy, guilt for secret sin, pride, defiance, restlessness, alienation, revenge, remorse, moodiness, and such noble virtues as honor, altruism, courage, and pure love for a gentle woman. (Poetry Foundation, Lord Byron)

“GRRM: I was always intensely Romantic, even when I was too young to understand what that meant. But Romanticism has its dark side, as any Romantic soon discovers… which is where the melancholy comes in, I suppose. I don’t know if this is a matter of artistic influences so much as it is of temperament. But there’s always been something in the twilight that moves me, and a sunset speaks to me in a way that no sunrise ever has.”

Infinity plus:

And isn’t that exactly what he would be exploring with Jon and Sansa? It isn’t a conventional romance by any means. It could never exist normally until Jon’s parentage is revealed. And that is the tormented nature of it, that is the “bittersweetness” of it - it is rooted in realism, yes - and that to me, is Sansa receiving her true love, countering that no one would ever marry her for love. The gods will grant it to her, - but it’s wrapped up in this darker, morally ambiguous thing that is confusing for her, even though Jon would be her dream come true - he isn’t this neat little courtly golden package, but he embodies all those ideals more than any man she’s actually met. 

It’s subversive to what both the characters and the readers expect, and it’s just a brilliant plot twist that screams unpredictability whilst fitting together like a perfect puzzle. It creates internal conflict and evokes those themes that GRRM loves to explore. By giving the ‘heroes’ of the series a motif such as incest is extremely bold; because it challenges the reader greatly. Some people don’t want Jon to end up with Sansa because it contradicts the image that they have of him in his head - the heroic male who will save the world with his heroic counterpart and together they shall rule the seven kingdoms. To embrace his father’s family, claim a dragon, fulfil the prophecy, be the third head of the dragon, reject his stark-ness. Very predictable. Done to death a thousand times over, and yet - it is what the general audience wants/expects. It’s what the dudebros who call him the ‘GOAT’ want, it’s what the Targ stans want, it’s what the show watchers wanted - but what does Jon want? 

“Yet he could not let the wildlings breach the Wall, to threaten Winterfell and the north, the barrowlands and the Rills, White Harbor and the Stony Shore, even the Neck. For eight thousand years the men of House Stark had lived and died to protect their people against such ravagers and reavers . . . and bastard-born or no, the same blood ran in his veins. Bran and Rickon are still at Winterfell besides. Maester Luwin, Ser Rodrik, Old Nan, Farlen the kennelmaster, Mikken at his forge and Gage by his ovens . . . everyone I ever knew, everyone I ever loved.” (Jon II ASOS). 

“I would need to steal her if I wanted her love, but she might give me children. I might someday hold a son of my own blood in my arms. A son was something Jon Snow had never dared dream of, since he decided to live his life on the Wall. I could name him Robb. Val would want to keep her sister's son, but we could foster him at Winterfell, and Gilly's boy as well. Sam would never need to tell his lie. We'd find a place for Gilly too, and Sam could come visit her once a year or so. Mance's son and Craster's would grow up brothers, as I once did with Robb.

"He wanted it, Jon knew then. He wanted it as much as he had ever wanted anything. I have always wanted it, he thought, guiltily. May the gods forgive me. It was a hunger inside him, sharp as a dragonglass blade.” (Jon XII ASOS). 

“Red eyes, Jon realised, but not like Melisandre's. He had a weirwood's eyes. Red eyes, red mouth, white fur. Blood and bone, like a heart tree. He belongs to the old gods, this one. And he alone of all the direwolves was white. Six pups they'd found in the late summer snows, him and Robb; five that were grey and black and brown, for the five Starks, and one white, as white as Snow.”

He had his answer then." (Jon XII ASOS)

“He was the blood of Winterfell, a man of the Night's Watch. I will not father a bastard, he told her. I will not. I will not. "You know nothing, Jon Snow," she whispered.” (Jon VI ASOS)

“Ygritte answered for him. "His name is Jon Snow. He is Eddard Stark's blood, of Winterfell." (Jon VIII ACOK)

"Then you must do what needs be done," Qhorin Halfhand said. "You are the blood of Winterfell and a man of the Night's Watch." (Jon VI ASOS). 

“You can't be the Lord of Winterfell, you're bastard-born, he heard Robb say again. And the stone kings were growling at him with granite tongues. You do not belong here. This is not your place. When Jon closed his eyes he saw the heart tree, with its pale limbs, red leaves, and solemn face. The weirwood was the heart of Winterfell, Lord Eddard always said . . . but to save the castle Jon would have to tear that heart up by its ancient roots, and feed it to the red woman's hungry fire god. I have no right, he thought. Winterfell belongs to the old gods.” (Jon XII ASOS) 

“He sat on the bench and buried his head in his hands. Why am I so angry? he asked himself, but it was a stupid question. Lord of Winterfell. I could be the Lord of Winterfell. My father's heir.” (Jon XII ASOS).

“If I could show her Winterfell . . . give her a flower from the glass gardens, feast her in the Great Hall, and show her the stone kings on their thrones. We could bathe in the hot pools, and love beneath the heart tree while the old gods watched over us.” (Jon V ASOS). 

“If he must perish, let it be with a sword in his hand, fighting his father's killers. He was no true Stark, had never been one … but he could die like one. Let them say that Eddard Stark had fathered four sons, not three.” (Jon IX AGOT).

Look, at the end of the day - we don't know how the story will go, but based off of Jon’s character arc? His thoughts? His actions? His relationships with his siblings? The fact that he has warged into a magical beast directly associated with Starks? The North? The Old Gods? The weir wood trees? I think that instead of GRRM having Jon go down the conventional disadvantaged male hero finding out he is a secret prince and thus becoming King and a proper Targ, GRRM will subvert expectations (much to audience displeasure) and do the opposite.

Learning of his true identity will just cause more angst and a major identity crisis. The one thing Jon finds real and solid, that no one can take from him - is that he is Ned Stark’s son. He raised him. Perhaps they don’t share a direct blood link. But that doesn’t matter, what matters is that he was raised by him, loved by him. So instead of choosing his father’s family; embracing the secret prince persona and fighting for the throne - he’ll choose his mother’s family. And I think that is beautifully conclusive.

But back to Jon and Sansa. GRRM is given the opportunity to explore the sort of impact this incest motif has on fundamentally good people. And I think this is what he originally intended to do with Jon and Aria.

Yes, we have Jaime and Cersei, but this is real sibling incest and rife with toxic narcissism, possession etc. We have the T@rgaryens, which are messy beyond belief and practice it due to blood purity. 

But Jon and Sansa clearly differ from the rest, and that is because they exist partly as foils as to what we previously have seen. Similar to Jonnel x Sansa. By intentionally refraining from the development of a properly-close sibling relationship, making Jon and Sansa fundamental opposites visually, and associating them with entirely different cultures (yet writing their core personas as the same, their dreams compatible, their thought process and idealism similar).

GRRM manages to pave the way into such a romance that comes as a shock to the characters, the narrative, and readers themselves. Because no one, absolutely no one would see it coming, and the people who have been privy to the theory - immediately dismiss it - and become quite angry when it is brought up. Like I said earlier, a knee-jerk reaction. 

To quote this brilliant meta right here:

‘Whether Jon and Sansa fall in love is up to the author and his intended exploration of literary/mythic themes that his predecessors have deployed. He is not writing from (or for) the moral values of show watchers and book readers, or their anecdotal hopes for how things “should be.” He’s writing a narrative that breaks away from conventional storytelling and what we expect from such characters.’

…

‘ I don’t believe the author is giving up completely on the romantic dream. He has made Sansa more cautious, converted her dreams into mere prayers, and has forced her to examine her assumptions, but he’s not turning her into the H0und, who is too pessimistic and fatalistic as a suitor. Sandor’s assertion that all knights are killers makes fantasy so small, it’s eliminated. I think he is setting Sansa on a path where her dreams do die, and her life becomes about as romantic as that smokestack in Cleveland - until they start to come alive again when she travels North to the Wall.’

'That cold, hard reality is still present in the fact that they are brother and sister, but once Jon’s parentage is revealed, this will change. Like an inverted Cinderella (clock striking 12), the reality will become fantasy again. But it’s still inladen with this bitter reality of their relations. So taking this into account, I believe Jon and Sansa could happen because there is no other couple in the series with which GRRM can explore his fascination with fantasy becoming “smaller,” but not completely shrinking altogether. There are no two better characters who represent these ideas, who have the same quietly domestic desires - who do not (at the moment) actively lust for power and cause it to blind them.'

So in essence, Jon and Sansa exist as the subversion of romance. In a twisted, loving sort of way that is morally conflicting to the characters and audiences (for a time). That has existed between the lines, subtly and implicitly. That the audience gives absolutely no thought, because why would they? And if they do, they are abhorred by it - but I’d argue this is the entire point. But not for the reasons you think, not because of the incest - or J0nerys would disgust them.

From the moment he started the series, GRRM has employed incest as a major motif that impacts both the narrative and the characters - the causes the war, that contributes to T@rgaryen values, legacy etc, that propels aspects of narcissism and vitriol for characters like Cersei. It’s really really interesting stuff, as uncomfortable as it is - there are no other works that explore it so messily and beautifully with such nuance. 

I believe people seriously underestimate GRRM’s use of omission and subtext. Seriously, just because something is not explicitly stated, doesn’t mean it isn’t there. Unfortunately fans have such a surface level reading of the text, that they are unable to peel back the layers and get to its core. They don’t consider literary influences, or art, or the Romantic movement or anything. They claim they want a complex story that is subversive, yet they cheer for the three-headed dragon theory and all the most predictable plot points that have been absolutely done to death. But then they turn up their noses at anything that goes against the grain, or insinuates otherwise.  

R + L = J is a great example of existence within the subtext, yet nobody denies that it is there. No one is called crazy or delusional for it. Ned never thinks of Jon’s true parentage despite harbouring that secret for years, because it is buried deep in his subconscious.

And much to the audience’s surprise (and dismay I'm sure) that is how Jon and Sansa will manifest. This is the human heart in conflict with Jon and Sansa, but not just them - the readers as well. It’s pointing to us, asking us how we’ll possibly handle it. We’re meant to feel this conflict of emotions - anguish and torment and yet hope for something ineffable - just like the characters.

To be able to evoke that as a writer is one of the most impressive feats I can think of - and for the majority of it to exist at this point, in a subconscious limbo?  How utterly complex and painful and raw and intelligent but oh so very brilliant. Perhaps one of the most compelling things to come out of this entire series, if only the general audience was open to such discussions. But alas, we must contend with the community we have, and hope for a dream of spring to come upon us. 

[athanasius-symposium-of-writings]

It Is Your Birthday, Enjoy

In honor of my birthday I wrote this really self indulgent thing featuring the first two survivors i loved in IDV lolol

Rated: Explicit | Warnings: Based on AoM, BDSM Themes, Virgin Norton, Voyeurism, okay is just horny man

Orpheus and you are writers.

Two different genres yet both understand the work and details needed to create the pieces you both make.

“He agreed!?” Stopping your pen to give Orpheus your full attention as he keeps writing.

“Mr. Campbell did indeed agree provided he is given extra pay for the trouble.”

You do not know the reason why Orpheus hired Norton Campbell, a former Coal Miner turned unemployed Prospector. You only see him when crossing paths after Orpheus pays him. Considering Orpheus is both a secretive man and one who does detective work as if he is solving real cases (you have to wonder though given most of his books are based on old cases), Norton may be hired muscle.

“I… Am surprised. Are you sure he is willing?” Concern about Norton agreeing to this with no hesitation from what your partner explained in his retelling of the event prior to him visiting your room.

The Oletus Manor, Orpheus claims it from a childhood he is slowly piecing together. The manor was in ruins, barely standing even. However, with the funds of a renowned Novelist, the manor looks as if nothing ever burned or looted these walls.

He is quite proud of it.

“Of course,” Closing his notebook, “Mr. Campbell is willing as long as the money flows into his hands.”

You frown, “You make him seem like a prostitute, Orpheus…”

There is a coy smirk on that devilishly handsome face, “Your words, not mine, beloved.” Getting up from his seat at your desk to kiss your forehead as you are lying on the bed writing. “Upon dawn, all that you desire shall be yours.”

The following morning, you go to breakfast thinking about how you rather eat ice cream right now. Oh, maybe there was that chocolate truffle cake Orpheus snuck in when he thought he was being sneaky. You smile as you enter the dining room then see Norton standing over by the window with his arms crossed and a grumpy look on his face.

“Good morning, Mr. Campbell.” Greeting him.

Norton snaps out of his thoughts to see you walking toward him, “Mornin’,” His eyes skim at you over your form dressed particularly nice today, “Suppose you're expecting something from me right now.” He is not frowning but still looks stern.

“Huh? No, I only wanted to be polite.” Oh, he probably has the wrong impression of you, “Uh-hmm, I wanted to ask about what Orpheus—” Cut off by lips on your, hand pulling you in close by shoulders. His lips are not badly chapped. When he stops kissing you, you realize he tastes of chocolate.

“Happy birthday.” Walking away leaving you confused and frazzled.

This will not be the only time he kisses you.

After breakfast, eating alone as Orpheus said he would be busy until the evening, you find out Norton is to be your company for the day.

“You can't just kiss people like that!” Currently outside on this sunny day at the racecourse, “At least, warn me!”

“Where's the fun in that,” Laughing a bit as he oversees the repairs, “Anyway compare getting a kiss to,” Lowering his voice and leaning into your space beside him, “Being told how you want another man inside of you.”

You are grateful to be up on the tower overlooking the racecourse so no one but Norton Campbell can see you embarrassed and fumbling with your words.

“Lucky you, I don't mind letting you wet my dick.”

“Must you be so crude!?”

“Why bother sugarcoating it when your precious Novelist said much worse.” Pulling back to look at his clipboard full of papers, “The man knows how to paint a pretty picture with those words of his… Especially about you.”

“How much…?”

“I'm sure he told you.” Norton glances over at you to see you looking at him, “Understand, I don't mind this arrangement so long as I get paid and I am only touching you.”

You feel shy, “Only me.”

“Only you, Orpheus will have to add more if he thinks I'm going to be his bitch. Even then, I ain’t taking his fucking dick in me.”

You want to tell him that Orpheus would much rather do the opposite but you stay quiet instead.

A few hours in the racecourse before you both start heading down the tower to go back to the manor for lunch. You only stop when Norton tells you to follow him into the stables.

There are no horses, yet, the stables are barren as it is not the priority compared to the rest of the racecourse. You wonder what and why Orpheus is repairing a place with such a dark story. His book brings back to light the fall of Mary Kreiburg, both by family and by the people's hands. You look around the messy area as Norton walks ahead of you.

“Look over here.” Norton pointed to something ahead of him. You raise an eyebrow as you go over in front of him only to see a broken shelf of trophies and pictures of horses and their riders.

“It looks old— Norton!?” Trapped in his arms.

“Relax,” You do as you realize too quickly his intentions when hands are on your breasts, “We have to be quiet.” You shiver as his breath is hot on your ear. You hold the shelf's frame as Norton touches you with the barrier of your clothes limiting the sensation of his hands on your skin.

“Open your legs,” You do, “When he said you would give in easily, I didn't think you would be this easy.”

“Would you rather I treat this differently?” You bite back though you moan when his hand slips down your pants.

A suit. Orpheus picked it for you when you wanted to be more masculine. Though he adores your dresses, he also enjoys the eroticism of suits on you.

“You can fight, your partner told me everything you like,” Norton gets your pants down your ankles, underlings moved to the side exposing your intimate part to the air, “Who would have thought you were such a—”

“Please don't.” Stopping him mid-sentence, “I know what I am… I didn't mean to force you into this.”

He stopped, your head tilted back to look up at him, “(Name), I ain’t doing this by force.” The sound of his pants being undone follows, “I want to fuck you, writer.” You gasp as his cock rubs between the lips of your pussy, “Going to make sure you are screaming my name all night.”

It is a bit difficult for him to grind against your pussy as you are not wet enough, so he stimulates you by touching more. Rubbing your clit, playing with your breasts, kissing you; you get wet and breathing heavily.

His pace is slow, one can say sweet as he guides you close your legs, kissing your neck and ear. When he goes fast you learn Orpheus made a single rule, one Norton agrees to only because he wants to see the way you are at the mercy of another.

“Don't cum. Boss's orders.”

“Norton, please.” Barely able to keep your voice down, “I need, oh God, please!?”

“No.” Slapping your ass causing you to moan louder, “Damn, you are into anything.” Chuckles at your misery, “You can cum but know you're the one facing the consequences.”

You struggle to not crumble as Norton is not making it easy for you, each thrust closer and closer bringing you to the edge.

It is downright a blessing that Norton cums before you fall, his cum on the shelf and dripping on the floor. You whine with frustration, your body trembling as you are going to have to walk around miserably horny.

“Well look at that, you didn't cum.”

You are going to explode.

“Glad to see you two had fun,” Orpheus is in the small living room with a small glass bottle in his hand, one leg over the other as he sits by the unused fireplace. There are pillows, leather cuffs, and a blindfold on the rug, “Were they well-behaved?” Pleasant as if you are not looking in shock at the things laid out so casually. 

“Very. Like a dog.”

Your arms are crossed over your chest your breasts are tender, “This feels like a chapter from 120 Days of Sodom.”

Orpheus' laugh is rich, loud, and pure, “My apologies but my greed for you will only allow for one another to share in such debauchery. All with the participants' permission of course.” Eyes shifting from you to Norton, “Mr. Campbell.”

“Tsk, I already signed the damn contract, what more do you need?” Moving from your side to stand next to Orpheus.

“Contract?” Curious.

“An agreement between gentlemen, my dear,” Waving it off, “Now this is about you, not us. We are merely your gifts this evening.” Orpheus is studying you, “Undress.”

Norton half expected him to be one doing the work or having to put on a show. Instead, you undress with no nervous moments, and when done after placing your clothes on the couch, you stand there with your hands behind your back.

“Kneel,” Orpheus is stern, “Wrists presented.” Norton is not sure what to do but watch the events unfold, this seems odd. Odd because Orpheus is cuffing your hands together with leather cuffs, tilting your head back as the blindfold is placed. Norton had to look away when you were panting from the silk gloves tracing your skin, applying pressure on the bite mark on your shoulder. The side eye he got from the Novelist has malice, it is amused.

“(Name), lay back,” You do as you are told, “Open your mouth.” You open your mouth as Orpheus pops the bottle open and pours gently the thick purple contents into your mouth.

Once done, you lick your lips then smile, “Grape.”

“It took a few attempts but there you have it.”

There you lay naked on a nest of pillows, you fidget in your spot, “Thank you…Both of you.” Beaming as your lover kisses your cheek before returning to his seat.

“Mr. Campbell, it is your turn.”

Norton snaps out of his wandering thoughts and clears his throat, “About time.” Stepping forward until Orpheus cuts him off with his hand blocking the way, “What?”

“Undress,” Spoken with a lighter tone, “We are the gift.”

“Tsk, maybe if you didn't cuff them maybe they could've unwrapped their gift, Orpheus.”

A hum, “Point made.” Norton curses at the way Orpheus, who looks weak compared to him, can also seem so intimidating, “Shall I take responsibility?” The hand moves up and hooks a finger between the suspenders and the workman's shirt.

“N-no,” Shoving passes as he undresses, “What did you give (Name)?”

“A form of aphrodisiac. They wanted to experience it.” Shamelessly watching the Prospector undress, enjoying the seconds of hesitation when Norton catches those brown eyes on his figure.

Feels like a wolf… A wolf in sheep's clothing. It would be disrespectful to call Norton the sheep, a ram perhaps?

“Orpheus,” You were quiet as the drug worked through your system, “I… Can I cum?”

“As freely as you wish, however,” Norton is not fully naked and feast for the eyes, “You should ask Norton for permission now.”

You whimper, “Norton,” Hands are on your knees opening your legs, “I was good. I didn't cum all day.”

“Begging already? Hah, you are like a dog.”

You hate that made you moan, wetter (bad enough you were wet from before still), and needy as all hell.

“B-bark.” You do not do what he wants, “L-like that?” Genuinely asking.

Orpheus snickers from behind as Norton stares in shock, worse that made his cock stir, “Just say my name, fuck.” Grumbling.

You do say his name, loud enough it echoes in the room, as Norton drives in between your legs without warning. Legs arching as he eats you out as if he has been denied all fucking day. All day as if he has not been the one keeping you on edge by randomly touching you until you were begging— And you beg easily.

Another man is touching you, another man is touching you in front of Orpheus, and Orpheus wants to see you fall apart.

Orpheus had been the one who asked your thoughts on Norton Campbell, he wanted honesty. You think the Prospector is handsome, intimidating, but you said too you understand him. Well, you understand what it is like to struggle against the odds against you, the beating life gives is relentless, and you understand the hatred.

You put that hatred into words in a book.

Orpheus watches as Norton is not the brute with you as he had tried to scare him into believing, the Novelist had simply told Norton to look to him if he needs assistance.

The Prospector is a virgin. Plain and simple, the Novelist does not think little of him for lacking experience. It is natural for a distrustful man not to allow him to be vulnerable, the world is cruel. Seeing you understand that, tell Orpheus of bitter feelings, jealousies, and resents… This is as much a gift to you as it is to Norton.

So indulge, seeing Norton explore a body already claimed; fall into the illusion of lust, see Norton consumed by the wonder that is your presence; often nightmares are the sweet dreams that ensnares, you kiss him as the man enters your welcoming heat.

[b4si1wh0]

From what I can tell, I can classify the mysteries so far into 5 main mysteries:

The Mrs Flood Mystery

The Susan Twist Mystery

The Mystery of The One Who Waits

The Mystery of Ruby Sunday’s Mother(??) Parent

The Mystery of Ruby Sunday

And here are my thoughts and theories on each of them (as well as fourth-wall breaks, and theories I do not like):

Mrs Flood:

She is Susan. I believe that ‘Susan’ Twist is a red herring, and Susan deserves her return. The fact that Ruby mentioned that she would be living in her time makes me even more sure, especially considering Ruby’s tendency to make things ‘happen’ - Strictly, Star Trek - more on that later.

She is River Song. A huge jump in likelihood, because I do believe her story is over, but you never know, and I don’t think I would be complaining about her return particularly. We don’t know Mrs Flood’s first name, which might be for a reason. Melody Pond, River Song and then xxxx Flood.

She is the One Who Waits. I’m going to probably say this about everyone but… idk what else to say. sHe’S tHe RaNi!!!11!!

Susan Twist:

She is the One Who Waits/part of the Pantheon of Gods. It just seems likely.

She is Ruby/Ruby’s mother. Seems the least likely, but in that case it would be a situation of ‘watching over’ Ruby in a way, but Susan Twist looks nothing like Ruby, so very unlikely.

She is no one/a spy. This works well for my first point regarding Ruby’s parent, but I think she might be a spy for The Trickster to keep an eye on the Doctor/Ruby. They could also be the same thing as the ‘Bad Wolf’, ‘Torchwood’ and ‘Vote Saxon’ - they don’t make sense until the finale, she might not make sense until the finale.

The One Who Waits:

Obviously one of the pantheon of Gods - I do believe the most powerful.

Probably Ruby’s mother, or someone related to Ruby.

We don’t know who they are yet. Some new guy. Hoping any one of these.

Ruby’s Parent:

THE TRICKSTER FROM THE SARAH JANE ADVENTURES! The hood and cloak are the same, the desolate London is so similar and the theme when Maria has The Trickster’s box in her bed and when Ruby was hoisted into the air is the same - please just search on youtube, it will probably be there. Plus, The Trickster would work well with the Pantheon of Gods - the Gods of CHAOS - what The Trickster thrives on.

A powerful being from the Gods of Chaos - an evil thing, the One Who Waits.

Someone the Doctor may recognise - though I doubt it somehow.

Ruby:

The daughter of one of the Gods of Chaos - you cannot deny her powers, in terms of the snow, mentioning things and then they exist - she mentions the Butterfly Effect- it happens. She mentions Star Trek in Space Babies, and the crew are dressed in uniforms eerily similar to the Star Trek ones. She mentions Strictly - who come but Johannes and Shirley from Strictly.

A supernatural entity - like a changeling, or something like that. The DNA scan said she was human, but it was only 70% done - that might be foreshadowing something - in terms that she is not human. In The Wild Blue Yonder, The Doctor let superstition come in - maybe he also let Ruby in.

A bad guy. One of the Gods of Chaos, the One Who Waits. Getting close to The Doctor all this time… maybe this won’t even be revealed until series 15. That would be great in my opinion honestly!

The last episode - ‘The Legend of Ruby Sunday’ makes me believe that she is older than she is. It is not the story, it is the legend - the Google definition being ‘a traditional story sometimes popularly regarded as historical but not authenticated. Not a word being used for a 19-year-old girl from Manchester, methinks.

Fourth-wall breaks: The Legend of Ruby Sunday seems to be based on a TV show - now we get to the ‘Doctor Who’ is a TV show in ‘Doctor Who’ - e.g. The Doctor can hear the non-diegetic music. I think this is a great idea. (I have written a fan-fiction about this 2 years ago hehe).

I DO NOT think these theories are true: 

The Doctor is Ruby’s parent. Nope. Too obvious, lazy and just plain weird.

Ruby is Ruby’s parent?? Weird and impossible. Very very timey-wimey.

The Master is returning - I don’t think they are this series - keep in mind that we only last saw them 6 episodes as of now (after Boom - not counting The Tooth).

THANK YOU READING IF YOU’VE READ ALL OF THIS!!!

[sushirrrry]

CELESTIAL | II. NEWTON'S THIRD LAW OF MOTION

7.1k words - on-going story

chapter one here

Chapter One. Fundamentals of Statistics.

I write a few problems down, a few definitions that seem to be a bit more of a challenge. My handwriting flies across the page as I write in a few calculations that would be helpful for the exam tomorrow. I'm not an expert on statistics, but I can problem-solve easily when it comes to mathematics equations.

Everything I look at makes perfect, logical sense when it comes in the form of equation and number sequence. That was the way I liked it.

And if there was one thing that I was good at, it was creating study sheets. While I didn't necessarily need it, I thought that there may be a time tonight during studying that someone does need it.

The possibility of that felt oddly exciting, but I tried not to think too hard into it.

I had made my way home after my two classes this morning. Grabbing lunch at the dining hall, I decided to bring it back to my apartment—just a salad, really—and watched a few episodes of The Twilight Zone on the sofa while I ate. I particularly liked the episode about the bank clerk that enjoys reading, but never has the time– it keeps my attention even though I know what happens in the end.

Chase had chosen to have his classes in the afternoon, I had classes in the mornings on Thursday's. We missed each other, usually, and then were home in the midafternoon together. On Thursday nights, it kind of depended on his schedule, we would normally order in some food and just kind of hang out together.

Lately, though, Thursday afternoons had started to turn into his night to go out with friends. I knew that he had class in the morning and had seemed to overlook this part of his schedule. He leaned more towards getting drunk with friends nowadays than what we had normally scheduled, especially last year.

But that was okay—it was fine. I was fine to study Thursday nights, and I wanted him to be able to have fun, if that's what he wanted.

My only problem was when Chase brought his friends around the apartment. This was the only part of our relationship that slightly bugged me, but of course, he shared the space. I just didn't enjoy this because his friends were horrid, and I would have just rather that they weren't involved at all.

Of course, I tried not to be too much trouble. I sat back and let Chase do what he needed to do—if that meant having friends over, I wanted him to do that. I wanted him to have the experiences that he wanted, and I knew that he would be courteous to me, as well.

But that didn't keep his friends from being major blow heads.

After I ate, I had finished watching some of my show, and decided to get a start on creating some questions to go over for the statistics course. I figured that at least getting the basics down for the exam would be good—even if it wasn't going to get her the A, I still wanted her to have a clear understanding of what was being asked so she could at least have a solid effort.

I'm sat at the small table in our dining and living space; it's not much, but we're able to use it for studying or having a meal together. I decided to sit outside of my bedroom to start, the light from the living room brightened it up – it was nice, quiet.

Until Chase and his friends have arrived over to our place. I have my headphones in, eyes averting to the three men as they walk in laughing, their voices loud now.

I notice that they have started to unpack a few bags from their trip to the store. There's some food, some drinks—by some, I mean, quite a few. I hadn't asked any questions about the plans for the evening, mostly because I wasn't really interested in whatever they were.

But I did keep looking up occasionally, seeing the cases of beer, the handle of liquor, and bags of crisps that were starting to grace our small kitchen.

Again, no questions asked—that was usually the best policy when it came to things like this. I decided to keep to myself, working on categorical sequences that would be used to study patterns.

Through my headphones, I can hear a bit of banter from the three of them—I don't know if they're trying to be quiet at all, but I can hear them clearly through the Mozart No. 23 in A Major.

"So’s he, like," The tall blonde one, with the very noticeable Liverpool accent, scoffs, "Gonna stay there all night?"

I can hear them beside me, but I'm just pretending that the headphones are blocking out all the sound. They aren't, but I pretend that they are for my own sake. Maybe focusing on the work in front of me will keep me distracted.

"That guy's totally brings the vibe down— we like never see him out or anything." The other guy says. His voice is quiet, but not quiet enough. "How do you sleep here with him? He's weird, bro. Like never talks."

I look up from the computer screen just a bit, just enough to see that Chase notices that I've heard what they're saying. Chase and I make eye contact for a moment; he shakes his head.

He noticed that I heard them, and that I'm able to continue to hear them. I scoot out from my chair—the one that I pay rent to sit in—before I move up towards the fridge to grab something to drink.

They're staring at me now that I've moved, almost like it's an anomaly to them.

That's the thing—Chase has been my roommate since last year. We were paired together randomly; I didn't care who I roomed with because I felt like I could get along with anyone if it really came to it. I wasn't really an issue, I didn't think. I was quiet, kept to myself. I didn't think that I was necessarily a problem.

Chase was extremely kind– he was a bit unsure of himself, maybe testing out the waters of who he wanted to be. We got along fine, he was a bit shy when he first arrived, too. That's how we became pretty good friends. Maybe we didn't have all of the same interests, but I knew that we looked out for one another.

But then things changed when he started to meet people who wanted to go out every night, and who were drinking to get drunk. And do other things, I guess.

Chase never brought anyone home or anything, which was good– well, for me. Maybe not him, I wasn't sure. We didn't talk about that.

His friends, the drinking, the going out– it didn't stop Chase and I from being friends. It just made me a bit uneasy when he's brought his friends to our apartment that we shared.

His friends weren't my friends.

His friends were on the football team and went out to pubs to find pretty girls. That just wasn't where I was, and it wasn't what I was directly focused on in school. Girls weren't interested in astrophysics, I seemed to find.

Chase's stare on me doesn't go unnoticed as I look back from grabbing a can of Coke from the fridge. I make my way back to the small table, starting to pack up the papers I had spread around it.

"Harry, you remember Hayden and Shawn, right?" Chase looks at his friends and I can tell he's trying to mitigate like always. He looks back at me with a bit of sadness reigning in his face, "We'll leave you alone, H, you can stay and study."

I shut my laptop, knowing it's much easier to find a more comfortable spot elsewhere.

I had to be at the library soon, anyways.

"No, it's fine," I say, a bit quiet as I watch his friends grumble under their breaths "I'm meeting someone anyways."

The tall blonde with a middle part and a denim jacket scoffs out a laugh before I feel a rush of anxiety flood my upper chest as I can feel the judgement and overwhelming sense of unease. I clear my throat, grabbing my laptop and loose papers before heading towards my bedroom.

"Wait," I hear Chase following me, but I just make my way to my room in a few strides anyways. I start to pack up a bag of my belongings, eyes looking up at my friend. "Why don't you stay here and drink with us? You don't even have to drink, really. It'll be fun. Maybe they can, I don't know, get to know you."

"I'd rather not get to know them," I tell him honestly. My lip pulls into my mouth, his exterior shows a bit of defeat as he stands inside the doorframe. "They're pricks, Chase."

Chase looks over his shoulders at his friends who have started to make themselves at home. They've started to take already opened liquor out of our cabinets, putting them on the counter space around the unopened ones. They take bowls out and plates and other things that are also mine but it's easier to stay quiet.

"Just keep everyone out of my room, please." I tell my friend before I pick my bag up from the floor. I grab all of the statistics papers from the desk, placing them in their own folder.

Chase stands at the doorframe, arms crossed over his chest, keeping conversation. "You meeting with Niall, then?"

Niall was one of my closest friends in uni. He was majoring in engineering, but we had a few math classes together which had made us grow close. We had the same type of love for our education; wanting it to be the best we could be.

We were competitive with grades, in a fun way. We liked knowing how everything worked and figuring out problems together.

Niall and I had gone to a few parties and events together in the past– we had both understood that wasn't our scene very quickly.

And that's why we were friends.

"No," I shake my head. "He's busy tonight. I think has some sort of club fundraiser. Don't really know."

Chase's face changes a bit. I look up to him when he squints at me, his lips quivering a bit into a smile. It's a bit unnerving when he does so, and it's just a bit confusing at first.

"What? What's wrong?" I ask, grabbing my shoes that sit over by the closet to put on my shoes.

"Is it someone I know? The person you're meeting?" Chase doesn't attend back to his friends, and only seems to be entertained by what I'm doing. I blink a few times at him, wondering his angle.

"Uh," I think a few times over at how Chase could have possibly known Stella, "How would I know? Maybe. It's just a girl from my statistics class. Needs some tutoring for our exam tomorrow." I throw my bag over my shoulder before I'm standing in front of him.

We're standing in front of each other, but he's not backing down from his way in the door. Chase's smile flips up and he stares at me for a moment.

"Chase." I say, pushing my glasses up, "I have to get to the library."

"Tutoring is kind of sexy, huh?" He teases, my eyes roll at his stupid comment.

"It's not like that." I tell him quickly, shaking his head.

"Surely, she asked you to study with her. Not the other way around." He questions, putting his arms across the doorframe so that I couldn't leave. I stand in front of him, trying my best to dodge the questions and seemingly meaningless accusations.

"Does that matter?" I ask, a bit confused by his statement.

I watch as Chase smirks, his eyes lighting up at my words, "Hope you won't end up in 414.”

Pushing my glasses up my face, I shake my head a few times as I stare at him, completely unsure of what he was talking about. I don't even want to ask, but I can see that he's pushing me to, so I shrug my shoulders at him. I've given up that he's going to let me go.

"I don't know what that means." I say to him before I watch his eyes get bigger.

"You don't know about 414? Damn, you do live under a rock."

I roll my eyes, pushing at his shoulder to try to move past him before he pushes me back and laughs a little.

"414 is a room on the top level of the library where no one ever goes—it's like, completely hidden. There's a journal for it across from the room where people like, write in time slots to go and fuck because it's a completely soundproof study room that you can lock. For all those freaky kids. You'd probably be into that, honestly."

I lick over my lips as I push into him again, but he's not budging. I look at him, trying to get him to wipe the smug smile from his face before he raises his brows at me.

I click my tongue, "I'm going to completely ignore this conversation, if you don't mind. Now, if you'll excuse me."

Chase rolls his eyes, letting me finally go by removing one arm from the doorframe.

I knew I've made a mistake saying anything at all, as I push past him to try to make my way out of the apartment in one piece without thinking anymore into what kind of information he's just given me.

I walk into the kitchen; it's not much, so it feels a bit cramped with the four of us now inhabiting the space. Chase's friends are standing around and suddenly quiet when I approach the room. I unscrew my water bottle at the sink, filling it up in the silence of the room.

“What's up, Einstein?" The other friend with very dark hair smirks at me, both lingering as Chase approaches too. "Why don't you take a break from studying and hang tonight with the boys? Or are we too much for you?"

I ignore it– pulling my lips into my mouth as I bite my tongue. I screw the lid back on before I turn and see Chase looking at me.

"We're just having a few people over tonight, nothing big. Then we're going to happy hour at Lou's." Chase assures before I nod at him. I clear my throat before pulling at the straps of my backpack.

"That's– okay, yeah, that's fine." I assure him. "I'll be back later."

With another nod, I go to the front door where a small dish holds all our keys. I grab my lanyard that holds my car key and my apartment key before I start to head towards the stairs. A few sets of those, and I'm on the main floor as I move out towards the library which is only a short walk.

Just my thoughts and I again.

It had thankfully stopped raining a few hours ago, which just left everything quite damp and wet. I trudged through a few puddles on my way there, looking across campus.

There weren't a lot of people walking around, probably because it was also a bit on the cool side. I had been wearing the same black hoodie from the morning, so I wasn't cold on my walk over there.

But it was getting to be the colder part of the year. England had rainier seasons, and the fall always seemed to have the worst weather. At least snow looked nice—rainy, damp, and dreary were just a bit depressing.

Making my way to the library, I open the large door and smile at the girl who sits behind the desk at the entrance. She's always very friendly, giving me a warm welcome when I walk in. She had short blonde hair, golden brown eyes and is always looks like she's happy to be there.

If she's not, she's putting on a great show.

“Hey, Harry,” She states softly, “How's it going?”

I wish I knew her name– she knows mine, so I feel a bit awkward as I approach the desk. She's never really talked to me before, but I smile at her.

“Uh, it's good,” I nod, rolling a hand through my hair, “I– just have an exam tomorrow. So,” I reference upstairs, feeling that my cheeks are most definitely hot from the way she's hanging in every word.

She’s sitting behind the desk, a book on the table as she seems to have been reading while she sat there. I know I should say something– maybe add a bit of conversation but I don't know what else to say.

I smile and nod a few times, using my hand to scratch at my hair in an uncomfortably awkward way.

“I’ll see–“ I start.

“Would you–“ She says.

When we speak at the same time, we both smile, and I hear her giggle for a moment before she shakes her head.

“I was just saying,” She licks her lips, “If you're ever interested, we have a book club here on Tuesday nights. I-I mean, I’m just saying because you're always here– I don't know if you read for fun or anything,” She clears her throat, “But if you did.”

I look down at the book in her hands, nodding a few times before I speak again. “That– is that the book?”

She notices that I caught sight of what she was reading, looking up me and holding the cover up, “Yes– well, no, actually. It's just a Murakami book– After Dark. This isn't what we read for book club– well, kind of.”

I looked at the cover and back to her, cutting her off as she seems a bit flustered. “I may check it out, yeah,” I swallow before clarifying, “The club. The club and the book.”

The girl bites her lip before she shakes her head, “Um– sorry, I’m Faye, by the way.”

I bite my cheek as I watch her eyes crinkle at the sides when her cheeks turn up in a small smile.

“Faye.” I say quietly before I nod at her, “I’ll see you around.”

She nods back at me in acknowledgement before I start to make my way back towards the steps, so I can make my way to the third floor where I usually have my set up. It's nice because it's always the least busy of the levels. The first floor holds computers, which are the most used for printing and workshopping. The second and fourth floors have more study rooms, and the third floor is mostly aisles of books and free tables.

That's where I prefer to be, close to the window so that I can look out occasionally over all the people who are making their way across campus; heading wherever they need to be on a Thursday evening. It also adds a bit of lighting until the sun heads back on the other side of the world, which is helpful just for a while.

The watch on my wrist reads 6:12pm. I had a while before I was expecting someone else to arrive.

It had started to get a bit darker—mostly because the clouds had started to overcast, which meant that the sun wasn't visible anyways. The days were starting to shorten, and winter was starting to become a bit more of a reality.

As I sat and studied other classes, I had realized that my watch started to move a bit faster every time I looked at it.

Six turned into seven.

Seven turned into eight. And I was still sitting at the table by myself.

Being in the library by myself was lonely– it was the first time that loneliness and being alone were coexisting. Something about being stood up, being left alone was a different level of loneliness. It was an embarrassing loneliness.

I tried to focus on other work at my table, tried to think more about Mach's principle as I read through the textbook. I tried to ignore the time, tried to ignore the feeling in my chest that maybe I had miscommunicated about times or where we were supposed to meet. Maybe I had given her a false impression, or we miscommunicated on time.

There were reasons I didn't put expectations on people– in many ways, they never showed up like they were supposed to. I didn't want to feel disappointment anymore, or that my excitement didn't match others.

Doing good deeds seemingly never panned out in my favor, as it showed. Maybe I read into it too much, maybe she felt bad for me and decided to ask to hang out so I wouldn't feel so shy. Maybe she said yes because so had approached her, now she felt bad.

It worked, I guess. For a bit.

I couldn't focus– I hated that feeling. I never had a problem with it before, and now these ideas of anxiety rushed through my head as I tried to put my nose to the page to forget about the way that this had made me feel. My glasses fell to the bridge of my nose, and I pushed them up to their place.

A heavy sigh fell through my lips as I noticed the time that had simply slipped by.

8:30.

I had been waiting for hours– I told her I'd be here at six, and I gave her the benefit of the doubt for an hour. But now it was spelled out perfectly for me, and I didn't really want to read between the lines.

Sitting back in the wooden library chair, I ran a hand through my hair as I finally decide that it's time for me to start heading home.

Hopefully, Chase and his friends have moved onto the bars, and won't be there when I get back. That would just put me in a worse mood. As I push myself up to start packing up my belongings to head home, I hear the door of the staircase open.

I'm the only one up here most nights, so the noise elicits me to jerk my head up. The sound of clicking heels on the tile make my eyebrows knit before I see the culprit of the noise, and the person heading towards me from around the large bookcases.

My eyes gravitate towards the extraordinarily long, bronze legs that melt into tall, brown boots on the ends. A cream skirt that sits short on her thighs but high on her waist, with a knit sweater top that has a few buttons done up in the middle, but the rest of open in a triangular shape on her torso. Also bronze, also tall.

I've never seen anything like that in the library before.

"Oh my god, there you are!" The girl stomps her way over, her voice relatively loud for the space as I feel an unsettled amount of surprise. It is a library, after all, and she's a bit loud.

I'm a bit taken aback; I fall into the chair once again as I'm watching her pull out the chair in front of me.

"Who knew there were so many levels of this place?" She laughs to herself– the glitter on her eyes shines so bright as I notice the crinkles by her eyes. "Don't know if I've—well, I don't think I've ever been in here properly, really."

It's such a difference of what she looked like just hours before. The tear stains are gone, there's a lightness to her now that's different. The makeup coating her face is natural and dewy with such high points of shine, her lips pouty and brown with a glossy finish.

I'm absolutely confused and feeling suddenly warm underneath the black hoodie at the same time.

But there's also a slur to her words as she places her hands and the small bag on the wooden table loudly.

"I'm sorry I'm late," She rolls her eyes dramatically, "I got dragged to this thing– well, I mean, I had to go to it. But I thought that this was a really good excuse to leave." She giggles a little, her smile bright and white.

I watch as her sleek, dark brown hair coats over her shoulders. It's got a bounce of soft curls that are much different than the chaos of curls that had been thrown into a ponytail earlier.

I'm in a bit of shock as I look away from her and back to the papers that have surrounded me just moments before.

"Um– I mean, are you—" I look up at her, watching as her eyes struggle to follow mine. There's a soft smile on her lips as she leans on the table a bit almost like my question is the most exciting thing to her. "Are you drunk?"

Her face falls a bit, as if I just found out her biggest secret. She shakes her head a few times, "No– no, I just had a few—" She shakes her head more, but I can tell that her balance is a bit off as she shakes her head. "I'm totally fine."

In the moment, I see that her body seems to stiffen at recognizing that my energy simply doesn't match hers. She can see that I'm a bit taken back by her suddenness of being here, and I don't really know how to react to her sitting across from me now.

I don't really know how to feel now because I'm not sure I was planning for this situation at all. Especially from the morning that she had. It was different, it wasn't exactly what I had expected from her, and I'm trying to think about how to proceed.

"So," I start, a bit confused, "you're not here to study.”

I watch as her eyes shift over the papers that I am starting to put away, maybe a bit guilty that she had come in the first place. Maybe it would have been better to be stood up than to watch the look on her face.

"Oh, are you, like," She licked over her lips, her eyes batting a few times before she notices that I've started to pick up a few things around me. "Were you getting ready to leave?” The look on my face must register because her eyes drop and she bites her lip, “Oh, fuck—okay, yeah. I'm sorry. I'm so stupid– I'm sorry."

"No, you're not. I just– must've been some miscommunication." I tell her softly, nodding a few times to remind us both that we had just been mistaken.

Stella goes to stand from her spot, pushing herself up from the chair before she pulls the skirt down her legs a bit. I watch as she grabs the small bag that had been sitting on her shoulder when she walked in.

She tucks her hair behind her ear, and I notice the small earrings that are in the dainty shape of stars settle into her lobes.

I clear my throat.

"You didn't have to—I mean, you didn't have to come, if you were having fun. I just– I mean, I thought you needed help.” I tell her softly, watching as she seems a bit lost about where to go now.

As if this was the only place she was planning on going. Almost like she didn't really see this outcome, or maybe felt like she wasn't wanted here. That wasn't the truth at all, but I didn't know how to express that.

A bit of glitter has fallen from her eyes, landing softly on her cheeks as she stands at the table.

"I knew that I was going to leave the party early," She nods her head softly, "I just didn't—yeah, I messed up and– like, I do need help but I just... Sorry for wasting your time."

There's a moment when she starts to walk off that I stand from my seat, pushing the chair back. A weird, unidentifiable feeling comes over me.

“Stella, wait."

Her head turns back towards me, a bit of a stumble in her step at the high-heeled brown boots that stack up her calves and to her knee. The unsteadiness of her walking seems a bit dangerous to me, and I don't really want to see her fall.

"Can I—I mean, don't feel like you have to say yes but," I push my hands into my jean pockets as I take in a deep breath, "Let me take you back to your friends, or something. I mean, I don't want you to—" I shake my head at my words, knowing that they sound a bit odd as we don't know each other at all. "You shouldn't be walking on campus by yourself at night."

Her eyebrows knit together, like she was trying to process the way that I spoke to her. She stared at me, a familiar stare from earlier in the morning. This time, she looked a bit more vulnerable. It was almost like she was in disbelief that I would even offer in the first place.

"Oh," She turns to me a bit, her arms crossed over her chest. "Yeah, sure."

Before there's any more conversation, I start to pack my belongings back in my backpack. All of the papers I had created for her were stuffed back into the folders, hopefully she didn't even notice that I had done that to begin with. My cheeks flush just at the thought of how ridiculous it sounded now.

Once the backpack is full, I throw it over my shoulder and start to move a bit closer to her.

Orange blossom and citrus melt from her skin, which makes me shut my eyes just at the idea of it. We start to head down the steps of the library, her feet almost dragging underneath her.

I'm not entirely sure that she realizes how many drinks she's had, but I let her take the side of the railing so that she can make her way down without tripping.

On the last staircase, her toe gets stuck underneath her foot, which makes her stumble a few times. I reach my hand out, grabbing at her elbow to steady her as she gasps at the way her balance has been thrown off. The immediate touch burns my palm, feeling her skin through the sweater material of her top.

"You okay?" I ask, watching as she nods her head a few times, humming—possibly a bit embarrassed by how off she really is. "Where do we need to get you?"

I watch as her brain starts to turn at the thought of where she needs to get to. I wonder how she got here in the first place, and who let her walk around campus like this on her own. I try to meet her eyes as she rubs at them, a bit of makeup smudging as she does so.

"Um," She shakes her head, "Flats towards 12th West. Don't really know what they're called."

We're standing outside of the library now; I'm facing her as she tries to recall where we need to go. I don't know that I've ever really dealt with a drunk person before like this. Chase was better at taking care of himself, so this was new to me.

I nod a few times, "I'm headed over there, too. Can you call a friend to ask?"

I watch as she hums to herself, agreeing with me and grabbing her cellphone out of her purse. It immediately drops to the ground from the slip of her fingers, landing with a crunch.

"Son of a fucking bitch," She exclaims, moving to squat down to grab it, but I'm already there.

Her reflexes are obviously not what they need to be, as she puts her hand over mine when we both reach for the phone. She doesn't pull away quickly, instead, keeping it there for a moment as I turn the phone around in my palm so that she can grab it.

"Thanks," She says softly, looking at the newly broken screen that leaves a large crack up the middle of her phone. "Fuck."

I watch her go to unlock the device, scrolling through her apps before landing on one and looking at it a bit intensely. The crack seems to not be that big of a deal anymore as she starts to focus harder on the screen.

"This building, here," I see that she's looking at the Find My Device, looking at a device that is right in the general direction of my apartment building. A friends contact pops up, and I try to see where it is.

The closer I look at the device, the more I notice... it is my flat building.

I take in a breath as I look at the girl, wondering if she had partaken in the Jack Daniels that had sat on the counter before I left for the library. I wonder if the scent of orange blossom would linger on my sofa at home.

The odd thought is immediately pushed from my brain as I return to reality. "I live over there, so I'll just walk you back, okay? Tell me if anything looks familiar."

My eyes linger over her body that she is crossing her arms over. The slight chill in the air makes her legs to shift a few times as we stand. I can tell that her discomfort is overwhelming her, and I feel like watching her is hurting me in a way.

"Here," I set my backpack on the ground by my feet for a moment.

Her eyes watch me do so before I pull the black hoodie from my torso, over my head. I knock my glasses on my face a bit so they're on the edge of my nose. The warmth of the cover on my body is now gone, but I watch as she seems a bit uncertain on what I'm doing.

"Take this. It's a bit of a walk." I hand her the black hoodie, her eyes trailing over it for a moment. I can see there's hesitation, which only makes the anxiety settle in my chest at her unwillingness to take the piece of clothing.

This is probably weird, and I regret it immediately.

I watch as she grabs it from my hand to throw over her body, a bit disoriented. When she lifts her arms up, the edges of her top move up around the bottom of her ribs.

I flush immediately, a heat rising up my neck almost disregarding the coolness in the air tonight.

My eyes look away, but seeing her head pop out from the hoodie makes me feel better that at least she can stay warm now.

I can't imagine that someone has allowed her to be out here like this. She walked all this way, alone, without someone to help her. She can barely walk in a straight line as we start down the other towards the apartment.

A bit of wind sweeps through, her legs exposed, and my own arms now just bare with my t-shirt.

I don't know how to firmly create conversation with her– mostly because I know that her mind isn't in the right place. Stella and I do not seem compatible, and every move she makes reminds me of that. I've watched an odd twelve hours of her life, from a huge mess to a complete mess.

But, something about her is intriguing. I’m the curious type.

My hands push into my pockets, the backpack thankfully shielding my back as we walk down the cobblestone pathways. We've walked a bit in silence, and I feel like that's for the best. But I try to give a bit of talking points in case she needs it.

"Anything look familiar?" I say, trying to keep myself warm as I feel her sway a bit against me.

Her eyes move from their site in the path to where we are on campus.

"N-No," Her teeth chatter, and I feel incredibly guilty for not driving over here instead. "B-but this is s-so nice of you." She turns her head, a mess of soft curls in her face as she pushes they out of her eyes. "You must h-have a good m-mum."

I knit my brows together, a bit confused by her logic. I push my hands far in my pocket as I grit my teeth together at how cool out it is. "Why do you say that?"

"Only a g-guy with a nice m-mum would walk a g-girl home in her going-out clothes without l-looking at her ass and just covering her u-up more." Stella chuckles a little bit; it sounds like she's trying to make a joke, but it only aches in my chest as she crosses her arms over her chest tightly.

I didn't really find that funny.

I pull my lips into my mouth as I turn my lips up just enough to acknowledge her humor. "You just need to get home safely."

I hear her sniffle next to me, the coldness getting to her. The bright pink of her nose is noticeable as the coolness hits us.

My apartment building is in sight, her eyes reach up. "This is where the party was." Her hand points directly at my building before I nod a few times.

"I live there, actually," I say, biting my lip. "I think my roommate was throwing the party you went to. His name is Chase."

Stella clears her throat, wiping at her nose, "Oh! Yeah, yeah. I know Chase.” She tells me, biting her lip, “I didn't know you lived there. You're never there when we come over.”

I take a breath in, “I– I probably am there. I just– I just don't really…”

“Not your scene?” She asks, the heel of the boots click across the pavement.

I shrug. “Not really. I– I don't drink or anything. I don't know.”

Stella tucked her hair behind her ear, “You don't have to drink. Maybe you could just hang out. You seem,” I look over at her once she pauses, “You seem really nice.”

I tuck my bottom lip between my teeth before I feel the tinge of a smile. “Thanks. You're pretty nice, too.”

When we reach the door, I open it before she walks inside the lobby. We make our way to the stairs– the elevator is seemingly always broken. I take the lead, going in front of her before we reach the second level.

When we make our way down the hall and to the front door of my flat, Stella doesn't say anything else. She just seems to accept that this is where she needs to be, and she seems to recognize where she is.

The music is over-stimulatingly loud from where we're standing out front, and I’m trying to anticipate walking into it. My hands reach into my pockets as I grab the keys. She looks much smaller wrapped in the black hoodie as it drapes down her front, hiding the remnants of the cream skirt that is gracing her small frame.

I stick the key in the door, pushing it open and hearing the blast of music immediately hit us both.

They hadn't left yet, like they said they would.

When we walk in, I move in first, Stella following behind. I look around, seeing more faces that I didn't know. There are significantly more faces now, and I just let out a sigh.

When I walk towards the kitchen, I can feel Stella behind me before I catch Chase’s eye, but I hear a louder voice first.

"Stella," I hear, "where the fuck did you go?"

I watch the blonde man from earlier approach her immediately disregarding me, a beer in his hand as he gets too close to us. I watch hesitantly as he pulls her closer, as if my existence was purely nonexistent to him.

I drop my keys in the small dish before star making my way through the crowd of people to walk back down the hall and to my bedroom, as if the past hour didn't happen. The noise of the bass is a bit overwhelming; the people don't seem to interest me.

"Needed to go for a walk." I hear her say, "I thought you guys were going to get something to eat?"

"Harry!" My eyes move to the kitchen where Chase seems a little looser than before; his smile undoubtedly bigger as he comes closer to me.

My head turns back, as I feel a grip on my arm before I can make a getaway.

"You found Hayden's girlfriend?" He asks, his eyes moving towards the familiarity of the brunette with amber eyes who had my black hoodie on over her body.

Everyone was way too drunk to miss that part. The black hoodie– I’m sure if someone knew, I'd be in trouble for that.

I stare at her talking to Hayden, her face looking relatively upset from their conversation. His hand reaches to her waist, pulling her in to kiss her.

Immediately, I look away. I feel a racing in my heart that's feels completely unnatural and like anything else I've ever felt before. Maybe the feeling of throwing up is also present, which is also weird to me.

My head turns away from the interaction– I start to pull away from Chase, back to the safer confines of my room. Back where my time and kindness aren't taken for granted.

Back to where something as simple as watching that interaction doesn't add a ridiculous ping of annoyance in the settlement of my chest.

"Yeah, something like that." I say to him, moving away before he can follow me to my room, just like earlier.

"How was your studying?" He asks, pretending like he cares for a moment. I can tell by the look in his eyes he won't remember this conversation tomorrow.

I turn towards him, holding my door in my hand, "Don't know if she's going to remember anything tomorrow for the exam. But I tried."

With a simple shut, the music is still a bit too loud from the other side of the door. But, out of sight, out of mind.

I had a stats exam to finish studying for.

______________

[tititilani]

Am I writing arguably my first thing in like two years for DBDA? Maybe. Do I even think it's any good? No. Do I particularly care? Also no.

This idea just wouldn't leave me alone so I banged it out in like three hours. Also fun fact, I wrote this partially by candelight because my power went out. Ambiance, anyone? I also posted this on my AO3 in case anyone wants to read this there instead. Just ignore any indiscrepancies in this, I just didn't care that much. <3

wash out the salt from my hands. 1.5 words.

Time moves differently than it does on Earth, as it turns out. Mostly pre-relationship Paineland.

He doesn’t think much of it, at first.

Charles is too caught up in relief, too relieved to have Edwin back where he can keep him safe again, to think about the weird phrasing.

“For decades.” Edwin says with a quiet hitch to his voice, more vulnerable than Charles can ever remember seeing him. He looks stripped down and vulnerable now, without the stiff bowtie and uniform that Charles is so used to seeing him in. Tear tracks mark his cheeks, cutting through the grime that seems to cover every inch of the hell pit they’ve found themselves in.

Their reunion is marred by the gruesome sounds of the last Edwin being devoured at the other end of the room and Charles can’t look too closely at the pile of corpses without getting enraged. He’s already angry at how long it took him to locate Edwin, how many times he had had to go through this loop before Charles could rescue him, but he knows where his priority lies now.

He wants nothing more than to clutch Edwin to him, stitch them together so closely that nothing could ever pry them apart again. He knows it’s not feasible (he’s checked) but he would stitch himself into Edwin’s ribcage without hesitation if it meant Edwin never had to come down to this place again. He also knows that now is not the ideal time for a big reunion, which can come after they are both safe.

“Well, I’m here now, so,” he says, pulling out a lit bomb from his bag and watching the flames glint in the depths of his best mate’s gaze.

“I have been dead for over a hundred and thirty years, after all, of course I should be the bait.”

Edwin’s tone is reasonable even if what he just said is not and he blinks when Charles levels him with a weird look because of it. Something in Charles lurches uncomfortably at the idea that Edwin should be bait for anything again, let alone a hungry beast that seems to specifically eat ectoplasm, and he’s immediately distracted away from it.

“Mate, you are not being bait. We can figure something else out that doesn’t end in you possibly being eaten.”

It’s been some months now since Charles gave a metaphorical finger to hell and rescued the other ghost but the idea of Edwin intentionally being put back in danger still scrapes over nerves that are far too raw. The Edwardian may look as though he is back to his normal posh self, all stiff bowties and perfectly parted hair but he has seen Edward flinch at enough dolls in enough windows to know he is not completely back to normal. Them managing to get Niko back was like slotting a missing puzzle piece back into Edwin’s frame but Charles still knew that there were pieces that could probably never be found.

Edwin frowns at him, fussing with his bowtie in a rare tell. “Per my books, this creatures likes older ghosts for its course – who else can we use?”

Charles thinks on the new and improved cricket bat tucked away in his bag. “I’ve been dead thirty years – should be enough to get the thing’s attention, yeah?”

“Absolutely not!”

(For once, Charles wins an argument.)

The witch is giving him the creeps.

One of her two eyes is bulging out far enough Charles is kind of worried it’s just going to...pop out. He’d try to catch Edwin’s eye but his nose is too far buried in one of the tomes the witch had given them to notice the way said witch is fixated on Charles. She seems to be mostly harmless at least, or at least hasn’t tried anything to make him reach for his bag but the way she is staring at him still has him on edge.

“Your bones are so old now but you are older still,” she tells him in a croaky old voice finally like it’s some sage wisdom and Charles just...has no idea what he’s supposed to do with that. Those books better be so worth it.

“Pretty sure my bones and I are the same age, ta,” he tells her in a voice he really hopes hides how completely bananas he thinks she is. He thinks she’s absolutely around the bend but is trying to play nice to make sure Edwin gets to play in her bookstore as long as he wants to. He’d be willing to deal with a lot worst things if it means he gets to enjoy the little sparkle that new books always put in Edwin’s green eyes.

The bulging eye bulges even more and he leans back in his seat a tad just in case there’s suddenly a splash zone. “Souls are aged by realms traveled,” she says in an even more grave tone while somehow making even less sense at the same time. He has no idea where Edwin has disappeared to in the books stacked precariously around the store but Charles hopes he surfaces soon.

Preferably before an eye falls into his lap or something.

It’s a dark night and Edwin’s head is in his lap.

There are no open cases at the moment, no one in the office, and an abandoned game of Cluedo is on the table. As ghosts, their sense of touch is almost completely nonexistent but Charles still swears that he can feel every strand of Edwin’s hair as he runs his fingers through it. He’s trying to be as gentle as he can be because Edwin deserves every scrap of gentleness Charles can give.

Edwin’s eyes are closed and that little wrinkle that is so common between his eyebrows has been smoothed away into unlined skin by Charles’ thumb. He can’t be super comfortable, his long legs draped over the other arm of the couch, but he also doesn’t seem inclined to move. Ghosts don’t have the ability to sleep or Charles would think Edwin had dozed off against his thigh.

They had been talking a little bit ago but that had faded off and for once, Charles didn’t feel the need to break the silence just yet. He has Edwin close and comfortable and safe and he finds he doesn’t need much else at this moment.

“I did not think I could have this,” Edwin murmurs finally, his tone soft and wondering. He hasn’t opened his eyes yet, something Charles is momentarily grateful for. He knows that if Edwin looked up at him, moonlight in his emerald eyes, that there is nothing Charles wouldn’t do to give him anything. “A century in hell was almost worth it.”

Charles’ hand pauses. “A century?”

Maths was never his best subject in school but even he knows the difference between seventy years and a hundred years. The two of them are so tangled together on the couch that he can feel the moment tension returns to Edwin, tightening up his lanky frame and when he finally opens an eye to look up at him, he looks almost worried.

“I wasn’t sure at first,” he finally says, voice hushed in the darkness of their office. “But time moves differently in hell. This last time in Port Townsend was about a decade. My first...visit was closer to ninety, I think.”

Charles’ hand spasms at that, the only thing keeping him from clenching it is the fact he doesn’t want to even accidentally pull on Edwin’s hair, even if it wouldn’t be felt. Edwin deserves so much gentleness. The sheer magnitude of how much time he had spent down in hell, fruitlessly attempting to outrun its horror, would make Charles sick if he still had a stomach.

“Why didn’t you tell me?” He asks finally when his urge to scream has faded. After another moment, he resumes petting Edwin and almost against his will, the other boy’s eyes slide closed.

“I did not want you to know how long I was down there,” Edwin says in a low voice. “I thought you might be angry.”

“Never,” Charles says fiercely, voice almost too loud in the quiet of their room. “I would never have left you down there, even if it had taken me a thousand years.” He swallows back everything else he wants to say, like the fact Edwin spent so much longer than even a few hours being tormented by a spider-doll demon makes Charles wish he had another doorway and a molotov cocktail or twelve.

I would tear hell apart for you. I will never let you be taken again. I love you.

He thinks it’s an okay time to say it but it lodges in his throat. Charles wants it to be a perfect time, not just an okay time. He didn’t need forever to figure out how he feels about Edwin but he has forever to make it just right. It is the least Edwin deserves.

He looks back down at Edwin to see he is already looking back and he was right – the moonlight in his eyes makes Charles want to give him anything, everything.

[gatheringbones]

[“G: Why did you get pregnant?

M: To prove to myself that I was a woman.

G: And then how did you feel about it?

M: I had been doing a lot of self-destructive things since I was thirteen - I dove into heterosexuality and I did it angrily and was contemptuous of any man I ever fucked. I somehow thought that fucking them would get back at them for everything, and somehow I thought that debasing myself would do something. So I got pregnant, which was very heavy 'cause at the time I thought I wanted to have kids. I really believed that there was a living person in me - my whole body was freaking out. They say you can't feel it, but I felt that energy, and I knew there was something alive in me - even if it was not more than a lump of cells, I thought it was still something alive - it was something that I was going to stop from being alive, but I figured I would rather do that. First of all I knew if I had a boy I'd drown it, and even if it was a girl I knew it had 23 genes I hated - and I didn't know who had made me pregnant. All of my hostility came to the surface - I was blind with fury and it all came out. I couldn't sit in the same room with one without wanting to murder him, literally. I couldn't listen to male music, I couldn't read male poetry. Lots of great male artists who had always been a great comfort to me I just couldn't... no male... I couldn't deal with any male, I hated them. After I calmed down about that it became very clear to me that I loved women, and I always had loved women, and that I had never had good relationships with men. I had always had good relationships with women. I had never been attracted to men, I had always been attracted to women, and I realized that I was just going to have to get used to the fact that I was a lesbian.

G: You had an abortion then?

M: Yes. I had two abortions... that was the first one. I dropped out of school and plunged right into feminism. It was obvious to me even at the time that the main reason I was there was because I wanted to come out. I wanted to come out so bad - I just wanted to do it and get it over with, you know, and just be comfortable in my identity as a lesbian. I had been avoiding the women's movement for years because I didn't want people to think that I was the old dyke who couldn't get a man. I wasn't able to become a feminist until I realized that I didn't give a shit if I was an ugly old dyke who couldn't get a man. I didn't want a man anyway. So I became active in the women's movement, and I met lesbians for the first time in my life. It was scary because even though I knew I was one I had never met a real one.

G: Were you saying you were a lesbian at that time?

M: Oh yeah, I had been saying that I was a lesbian for years before that. I can remember saying to a friend a couple of years before, when I was fucking all these men, "You know, I'll bet I'm a lesbian, because people with case histories like mine always turn out... if I didn't know me and I heard my case history I would be convinced that was a lesbian." And she said, "Oh, don't worry, you're not a lesbian." She tried to reassure me, but I knew. I just didn't want to deal with it; it was scary being a lesbian. Particularly since being a woman was so important in my family. So I became involved in the women's movement full-time. Then I needed money - so I got a job as a waitress. I was working nights and sleeping during the day and I didn't have any time for the women's movement. The only people I was hanging out with were the people I worked with. All of a sudden, since I didn't give a shit about men, I was really attractive to them. I'd never been attractive to them before, but all of a sudden I was fascinating - I guess every man want to fuck a dyke, you know, to prove they're a real man. So they started following me home. I was horny and I didn't have any lesbians knocking at my door, and I knew how to manipulate men, so I figured fuck it, I'll give them one more chance - so I started fucking a couple of guys. I told them, "Look, I hate men. I'm  a lesbian, I haven't come out yet, but I promise you I'm a lesbian." So I fucked them. And at that time I had an IUD which I had gotten after my first abortion, which they had promised me would be very effective. I got pregnant again, six months after my first abortion. My second abortion was really nice. I went to a really nice clinic and it was very clear to me, never again, never again. It's over. There was a really nice woman who was my counselor and I was awake for the abortion. She was holding my hand and while the fetus was being taken out of my body I was holding her hand saying to her, "Never again," and she said, "Oh, you're going to come out?" I said, "Oh, yes," and she said, "Far out," and she called across the room to another woman who was a counselor, and said, "Hey, this woman's coming out." It was so nice, so supportive, she's holding my hand, a woman, and I was telling her that I was a lesbian. She was telling me that that was great, and they were taking that goddamn thing out of my uterus. It was almost worth being pregnant, it was such a nice abortion. I was so into her that I didn't feel any pain, it was annoying, but all of a sudden it was over. It was really nice.”]

The New Lesbians, edited by Laurel Galana and Gina Covina, moon books, 1977

[friendlyneighbourhoodelf]

have some unorganised tragic codywan thoughts because they’ve taken over my brain <3

thinking about duty as almost akin to a fatal flaw - not as in their loyalty/duty is necessarily a bad thing, it’s a key part of both their characters and i think it’s something they both value/at least respect. anyway, duty is not a bad thing, but in terms of codywan it is (to me) what dooms their relationship, because ultimately when forced to choose, i think both would choose duty over their feelings and it is this that ultimately prevents any serious romantic relationship from occurring during the war. however, i also think that in a situation where they’re both aware of their feelings and at least address them to an extent, there’s a hope/expectation that there will be a time after the war in which they are (less) bound by duty (i very much believe that both would still have a strong sense of duty to the jedi/clones respectively, but without the context of the war they would be free from having to lead it, obviously). so they both have a hope that after the war they would be able to explore their feelings freely. so it’s the fact that they never get this chance, that from the beginning this would always be the case, that they never really had a chance to fight for it because no one knew there wouldn’t be an after, that makes the whole thing so tragic.

i was also thinking about ideas of fate/destiny in tragedy more broadly, and how it is very much a theme in star wars, particularly around anakin. but i also think that by extension particularly obi-wan’s character is very much shaped by ideas of fate/destiny. i don’t really have a point here i just think it’s interesting. (star wars as happening a long time ago and so the outcome was already decided, there was never anything that could be done to change it etc etc).

i think there’s also something to be said about the fact that tragedies (often, but certainly not universally) happen over a relatively short period of time, in part to signify a protagonists uncontrolled fall (that post about how revenge of the sith takes place over a few days/a week very much highlights this in relation to anakin). but for codywan their tragedy lasts for perhaps the entire war, because their tragedy is not an uncontrolled fall, but rather a continual and conscious choice to place duty above their feelings. i think the fact that they simultaneously have so many chances to choose their feelings, but would never really make that choice because of their duty/loyalty adds to the tragedy of their relationship. the tragedy as occurring over months and years as nothing changes even though time gives you every chance. etc etc

anyway i feel like this reads a bit like a very disorganised english essay, so sorry about that !! i don’t have an excuse, but tragic codywan does something to my brain. many thoughts etc etc.

[galacticlamps]

not sure i've seen anyone mention it yet but also i havent looked - but the bit at the beginning of episode 5 where edwin's reading up on astrological compatibilities just before brad & hunter show up - is there a prevailing theory about a specific taurus and aires he might be referring to?

he did just leave charles and crystal together to settle their relationship status (not that he's aware that's what they're discussing at the time), so i'm kind of inclined to assume it was them, but as far as I can recall he & niko are the only people whose signs we're told outright (and frankly, just removing his from the equation does rule out about half the potential ships in the show)

but if crystal is one of the parties involved, that just raises more questions

Like does that mean she remembers when her birthday is? I wouldn't have thought so, since even with only a partial name, a specific DOB might make her significantly easier to look up, particularly if her parents are kind of famous (i've been assuming all along that her name being a noun effectively made her google-proof). Or is it more likely monty just declared her something & they all accepted that as fact because he was noticeably right about everyone else so far? But if that's the case, how much has he been talking to/getting to know the rest of them, because she would press him on that, right? like it's one thing to make quips about people who are capable of confirming their own birthdays being typical of their signs - but since crystal's actively on the lookout for chances to learn more about herself, you'd think someone being confident he can just tell certain things about her like that would be of particular interest to her. And alternatively if monty hasn't spent too much time with her & is still responsible for assigning her a horoscope anyway, does that mean he's been like. displaying a certain amount of supernatural knowledge all along without anyone getting suspicious of him? and where does astrology fall on that scale anyway, in their world? edwin's skepticism at first would imply it's not considered a normal science to them, even in the context of ghosts and spells and witches - unless that's just meant to read as him being especially hypocritical?

Do any of these things have clearly implied answers to people who do know about astrology? Or have I missed canonical birth dates given for anybody anywhere? I feel like they'd shed some light on an unusually large number of questions for me at the moment

[laura1633]

Interesting FP1. Monaco wasn’t expected to be a good track for Red Bull so we will see how it goes. If the field genuinely has closed the gap then it’s going to be a case of maximising those weekends where the car doesn’t suit the track.

I still think the RB20 will be very fast on certain tracks but it looks like it’s just hard to get the balance right and can be difficult to drive!

But also, Max and Checo didn’t run the softs so it’s hard to know what the soft run pace is like and they have tended to start the weekends slowly and build towards qualifying. And yes Max didn’t sound particularly happy but it’s still early and he is trying to get the car dialled in.

Basically, who knows what is going to happen 😂🤷‍♀️ Charles is looking quick though 🏎️

[vermilionsun]

Time to yee the haw

Boothill

aka Pom-Pom

➢ Braids Boothill is surprisingly good at it. Since he decided on growing his hair, he had to find ways to keep it out of his face, and braiding was one of them—well, not something he thought of himself, but friends and family liked to do it for him and it just stuck. Now, he occasionally braids his own hair, though his metallic hands make it increasingly difficult.

➢ Hair His hair in general is a topic of its own and it needs to be talked about. Originally, his hair was raven black, but when he was undergoing the lab tests and maintenance, due to different factors, most of his hair turned white. He once looked at a mirror and aside from the dysphoria caused by the metal, the thought that he kinda resembled his dads flashed in his mind. He never looked in a mirror again.

➢ Kids He’s so good with kids. They just love him and no one knows why. Boothill, as the type of guy he is, will try to pretend to be annoyed, yet failing miserably as small hands would cling onto him. (If he could shed tears he would.)

➢ Swearing He actually doesn’t like to swear, thus the weird alternatives he uses. It’s a habit he picked up from having many younger siblings and friends—not wanting to swear in front of them—and one that he kept, no matter how ridiculous it might seem to others. When he adopted his little girl, he would barely not kill anyone who would swear in front of her, despite her being too young to understand.

➢ Nicknames If he happens to form any kind of bond with anyone, he will give them a nickname. They range from random words, a characteristic of the person, to inside jokes, to sweet pet names. And every person has multiple different ones. The only one who remembers them all is the one responsible for them.

➢ Flirting He isn’t the type of guy who will hit on anything that moves under the sun, but he does enjoy some casual flirting and bantering. It’s also his weak spot. If he gets back a more–than–equally flirty response he’s gone. In improbable cases he might even actually faint—if all his remaining blood leaves his brain to reside in his cheeks (a good smack will bring him back) (if you dare).

➢ Stars He and his family used to stargaze together, pointing out constellations and sharing stories. Now, he finds solace in the familiar twinkling lights above, feeling a sense of connection to his loved ones despite them being gone—a bittersweet comfort nestling in his lonely heart.

➢ Zoning out Sometimes his mind is just… elsewhere. He gets lost in thought easily, often planning stuff. Other times, he's simply reminiscing about days lost. It's like he's constantly searching for something that he can't quite grasp, leaving him feeling disconnected from the present moment.

➢ God He had always believed in justice and righteousness and that a higher being was watching over him and his loved ones, yet the destruction of his home shattered his faith in the universe's inherent goodness. He struggled to make sense of the chaos and devastation surrounding him, questioning how such tragedy could be part of a greater plan. Now, he finds himself grappling with the concept of fate and whether his life was truly guided by a divine force or simply subject to random chance. He sometimes prays, not for himself, but for the ones he lost, hoping that somehow his prayers may reach them in the afterlife, and the ones he still has.

➢ Skills Despite popular belief, Boothill is quite skilled in many areas. He is particularly adept at problem-solving and has a keen eye for detail. He can recognize disease and illness in animals with just a quick glance. As a cowboy, his experience working with livestock has honed his resourcefulness. Plus, he's a talented craftsman. The bullet earring of his? That's a real bullet casing that he fashioned into jewelry himself.

➢ Touch Boothill always adored physical touch. He thrived on hugs, cuddles, and any form of affectionate contact. Even a simple pat on the back could make his day brighter. With the only thing remaining of his original body now being his face, he craves the sensation of touch more than ever. The memories of warm embraces and gentle caresses are all he has left to hold onto.

➢ Songs If he hears anywhere a song that reminds him of home, he will subconsciously murmur it, maybe tap along to the beat. If he hears someone he knows singing it, then KABOOM! It’s karaoke night and some bring him a fudging guitar already—

➢ Wheat He likes to munch on it like gum. It's a strange habit, but it seems to satisfy his cravings for something chewy and subtly sweet. Sometimes he even chews on it while…ehm, working to help him concentrate.

➢ Hat When Boothill was young, Nick had promised to give him his hat one day. The day he did was the day Boothill found his girl. The hat was destroyed in the explosion, but Boothill made a replica, going as far as damaging it to have the same tears and bumps as the original.

➢ Survivor's guilt. Wishes he was with his family.