#this is just not a situation you can wrap up in a neat bow and attempting to pretend like nothing had lasting consequences does not work

[3rdbogwitch2theleft]

So we finished season 5 episode 7 of Smallville "Splinter" and the whiplash I felt seeing this one come right after the "Dukes of Hazard reunion & Lois goes undercover at a strip club" episode. Just wow.

I had no memory of this one. So much so that I think maybe I missed it when it originally aired.

This is the one where Brainiac exposed Clark to silver kryptonite and Clark becomes paranoid, delusional, and violent. It's shot like a horror film and as a horror episode it is extremely effective. The changes in perspective conveyed by the changes in camera angles so you know what's real and what's Clark's delusions. Clark's progressive deranged sweatiness. His little half smile when Lex pulls a gun on him. Unsettling to the core.

Clark is terrifying in this episode. Truly, honestly terrifying.

He nearly chokes Lana to death because he thinks she "betrayed him" and it's horrifying to watch. And I it baffles me to my core that this was not the immediate end to their relationship. She just forgives him instantly. Girl. Girl he almost killed you ON PURPOSE in a jealous rage.

It could have worked better if she was like "hey I was possessed by a homicidal witch last year I know all about coming out of an altered state disoriented and plagued by guilt and I know how it feels not be be able to trust my own mind", but they didn't bring any of that up they just had her say "Chloe told me the meteor rock made you violent and delusional and gave you temporary powers. I know you'd never hurt me" except he did hurt you Lana. You're in a hospital bed Lana. Had he not be interrupted you would not be alive, Lana!

I like Lana and I want good things for Lana and the men of Smallville are just not it and it's so hard to watch.

[satorisoup]

wait... waittttt I JUST FOUND OUT ABT YOU AND I LOVEEE TENDOU <333

can you write a lil something where he makes cute little chocolates for reader but then he gets too scared to actually give it to them, but just as he's bout to leave reader opens up the door and sees him standing there

TYY :))

#SATORIS’ SWEET CONFESSION

#A/N : MMMPHHH i love tendou so much oh my gawd. this is adorable UGH i love him. ALSO OMG ive read ur stuff before and i loved it sm. i wrote a fem reader i hope thats okay.

#WARNINGS : f!reader. timeskip tendou spoilers.

this was ridiculous. this was absurd. this was absolutely ludicrous.

tendou couldn’t help himself. ever since he met you he couldn’t help but find his heart swelling at even the simplest things about you. you were great friends, but the heart wants what it wants.

your smile leaked a sweetness so pure that no candy could ever come close to comparing. there was something about you that just made you so captivating to tendou. like chocolate. a sweet treat that is just so desirable, you cant help but want a taste, the go to sugary delicacy for any occasion.

even he fell into the irresistible world of chocolatey treats, so much so it became his career. and what better way to see that sweet smile than to give you your very own set of chocolates straight from his hands.

that leads tendou to his current situation. each chocolate perfectly laid in its own paper, decorating the inside of the tin box he had put them in. he was nervous, how pitiful it was that he was doing all of this all for you, who probably wouldn’t return the feelings he had.

but it was done. the ribbon wrapped around the box with a neat bow at the top, here he was standing at your door encouraging himself to make the move.

you were just a knock away. a knock away from him and this damn box of chocolates he spent hours perfecting for you.

this was ridiculous. this was absurd. this was ludicrous.

he sighed at himself and turned on his heel to make the walk of shame away from your door, ready to dwell with his own defeat.

about to take a step, he froze upon hearing the click of your door before it squeaked open to reveal you in the doorway.

“satori?”

there’s really no turning back now. his eyes turned to you along with his body, silence on his end as he just held out the wrapped box.

“is this.. for me?”

“perfect chocolates. for a perfect girl.”

there it was. that smile. the one that seeped of honey and teeth that twinkled like candy.

“well, a perfect girl can’t eat these chocolates, without the perfect boy that made them.” you said.

this wasn’t ridiculous, or absurd, or ludicrous, no. this was perfect.

[seiya-starsniper]

slow dancing or 5. hand kisses <3

So I’m picking #5, but stayed tuned for #1 👀👀👀 Enjoy the softness my dear 💖💖

------------

It is the culmination of one thousand years of friendship, love, and joy.

Hob Gadling stands at the end of a long aisle, breath caught in his throat, eyes wide, and heart racing as he watches Dream of the Endless take his first steps towards the rest of their lives. 

“He’s lovely isn’t he?” Death whispers conspiratorially in his ear from his right.

He is. Dream has always been stunningly beautiful, but today he is radiant. He’s dressed in flowing midnight black robes that make his skin shine like moonlight, and Hob realizes with each step the Endless takes that they are covered with stars. In his hands he holds a small golden circlet adorned with a red ruby, his own crown situated atop his unusually neat hair. 

“He does clean up nicely from time to time, I suppose,” Desire remarks to Despair from the other side of Death. Hob stifles a chuckle and tucks the information away to share with his beloved for later. It’s the nicest thing he’s heard Desire say about Dream.

When Dream finally reaches him and hands the circlet to Delirium, he gazes at Hob in wonder, as if he cannot truly believe this is really happening. That Hob is really here, has chosen Dream, not once, but over and over again, over hundreds of years, all culminating up to this very moment. 

To their marriage.

Hob takes Dream’s hands in his, squeezes them tightly, and, because he can, raises them to his lips, brushing soft butterfly kisses against each knuckle. Dream’s breath stutters at the motion, and when Hob meets his gaze, he sees the most lovely rose blush blooming across his beloved’s face. 

“Hi,” Hob greets his future husband. 

“Hello dear heart,” Dream replies, breathless.

The gaze at each other, lost in the moment, before a cleared throat startles them back to the rest of the room.

“If we may begin?” Destiny asks, his book already open.

They both nod, and turn to face the being who will bond them together, mind, body, and blood.

Destiny recites a passage in a tongue that Hob does not know, but he nonetheless understands. The air shimmers around him and Dream, a current of magic enveloping them in a glowing warmth that Hob feels all the way down to his bones. When he breathes, he feels it. The sound of their hearts, beating in sync with one another, an affirmation that no matter where he is, he will feel Dream with him always, just as Dream will always feel him.

The magic’s intensity crests as they recite their vows, promises to remain true, to be faithful, to love into eternity. Hob can feel the pulse of their shared power between them, the weight of Dream’s responsibilities halved as Hob swears to share them as his Consort.

Hob then kneels, head bowed, and Delirium presents the circlet to Dream. Dream takes a deep breath, as if still in disbelief of what is happening, before he places the circlet on Hob’s head, completing the bonding ceremony. When Hob stands, he feels no longer just human, but so much more, and when he meets Dream’s eyes he is struck dumb by how much more beautiful his beloved has become. 

“The marriage is completed,” Destiny announces, closing his book. “Welcome Hob Gadling, new Consort of Dream of the Endless, and regent of the Dreaming realm. ”

The rest of the room erupts in a deafening and uproarious applause, every citizen of the Dreaming in attention standing to cheer their new regent. Some of Hob’s friends are in attendance as well, though they will only remember this ceremony as a dream. They will have a very different ceremony in the Waking, and Hob thinks he must be the luckiest man in the world to be able to marry the love of his life twice.

With the ceremony complete, there’s just one thing left to do. Hob wraps an arm around Dream’s waist and pulls the Endless in for their first kiss as a married couple, the first of many, the first to start a lifetime together.

“I love you,” Hob whispers against Dream’s lips when they pull apart.

“And I, you,” Dream replies, his eyes reflecting supernovas and galaxies that Hob had not been able to perceive before. It feels, he thinks, like falling in love with Dream all over again. He wonders what other new surprises this marriage will have in store for him, already excited at the thought of re-learning Dream anew.

They have forever to find out, after all.

[kiwanopie]

ran across this picture of pro!hero shinsou and immediately died of brainrot. part time college professor shinsou x bimbo!reader [if you think this is ooc then maybe you should just kiss me on the lips then.] suggestive

Seeing your face in full for the first time is already enough to twist his stomachs in knots. Fold it over itself a few times until it’s tightened in a neat little hitch, and his lungs the pretty bow on top the moment her mouth opens. Plump lips that kiss each word on its way out and nearly leaves him envious. His brain barely registers what’s actually been said until he’s taking a moment to revise.

And then he short circuits.

“Are you interested in having sex?”

Shinsou stands there a little stiller than he should as his student stares up at him curiously, doe eyes blinking expectantly at the older man as the cool training ground air dries out his slightly gaped mouth and his brain buffers at the reality of things.

You breathe in a little briskly before nodding again, looking away briefly like you’re chiding herself. “Oh, sorry,” You redouble. “Are you interested in having sex with me?”

This is his reality right now.

Shinsou Hitoshi is not a religious man, a spiritual man, sure; but he has never been quite so comfortable with the idea of god’s and otherworldly forces - so powerful that they foresee the outcome of his and the lives around him. He doesn’t like the thought of greater powers or deities of any kind. Invisible men that pull his strings or any leveraged omnipotence that could disrupt the equilibrium of reality or nature. He believes in Then and Now, and any paths he may take in the latter are his choice and his doing. His fate will always be in his hands.

….Although - He stares at that familiar soft tawny now softened by the evening sun. Exposed shoulders veiled by dark thickets of bouncing curls and about eight months of over the shoulder glances and lingering stares that are apparently being cashed in right before him. Even a man so dead set on his ideals might have to reconsider at an opportunity like this. Maybe there is a big man in the sky. Maybe he’s been watching him piss away his love life for the past twenty seven years and decided that this was the time to knock him on his ass about it. Maybe this is a gift?

Maybe this is a test.

There’s a long second he spends blowing out empty air before his voice can seep into the atmosphere.

“Wha-…You’re… seriously asking me this?” And he can’t tell if he means that out of disbelief or genuine curiosity.

You must take it as the latter, because you nod so genuinely - so cutely. That his teeth instinctively start to grind against each other. “I hope this isn’t an inconvenient way to ask. You’re usually really busy outside of our training bumps and I doubt your assistant would take me seriously if I made an appointment for this reason.”

“It’s also…” And he almost feels like the weird one for saying this. “…Wildly inappropriate.”

“Oh...” You pause, and for a moment he expects you to finally tune into how bizarre this situation really is.

Until you’re hitting him with another curveball. “Rejecting me would also be fine then, Sensei.”

That makes him openly grimace - throw his head back a bit and remind himself that: No, that isn’t the worst thing you’ve said since this conversation started. And yes, rejecting you was always a valid option. You say it so cooly that he’s almost afraid that you’re indifferent about the whole thing to begin with. Which begs the question:

“What’s this about?” Shinsou furrows.

You finally move your gaze from him to an empty corner of the wall as you fidgets on your feet a few tense seconds, wrapping your arms around yourself with a short hesitant shrug of your shoulders and pout in a way that can only be described as troublesome.

“I’ve… I can’t put all of my focus on climbing up the ranks anymore. Or on studying… or on anything else for that matter,” You start shyly. “All I’ve been thinking about for the past few months is you.”

The more you continue the closer he gets to self-destructing. “To be fair, I thought I admired your skill and resolve. - Which I do. It’s just… I like the sound of your voice and how it sounds when you talk to me. And the way you handle us trainees, and me whenever I mess up. I like the way your fingers feel on my leotard.”

The fact that he can see you riling yourself up at the thought of him, redistribute the weight on your feet like you’re looking for friction - His mouth doesn’t know whether to dry or salivate and for his sake he hopes his suit is thick enough to hide the bulge that’s steadily forming.

“All I can think of is having sex with you, Sensei.” You say truthfully. “And at least if you reject me then the humiliation of that’ll-“

“I’m not gonna reject you.” And the way your eyes light up makes his lungs feel near to bursting. Seriously, have you seen you? What chump would be so out of his mind to pass up something like this?

But he steps in a little closer, enough to get a whiff of oat and honey, and finely scrubbed in sugars. It’s an ego trip to see you start to fluster a bit. Although he’s sure he’s not faring any better.

You’re bathing in his attention. “But _____ - Sweetheart, it sounds like you just have feelings for me.” Shinsou exhales a little breathlessly. “A regular confession would’ve done just fine, and we could’ve gotten to the good parts later.”

“I feel the same way about you, y’know?” He pinches one of your cheeks. “‘Have for a while, actually,”

You simper. “You have?”

He nods with a warm hum. You’d purr in his hands if you could. “And now that everything’s out in the open, don’t you feel a little better? ‘Can finally think straight, huh?”

“No, now I wanna do it even more.”

Ah,

He pats your cheeks a few times as he raises his back to look over at the rest of your fellow classmates, flashes an innocent little lazy smile toward the field as he looks out for any wandering eyes and prays that that overhead bell is close to ringing.

Shinsou finds a secure grip on your jaw when the coast is clear. “Okay,” His smile sharpens. “That’s okay. - Hey, how about you try and make it through this bump and if you can do that; I’ll sneak into the ladies locker room and fuck you stupid. How’s that sound?”

The way your lips form into a pout by the force of his grip nearly has him pulling you forward to press his against them. “S’good, shensei. Thawnk yew!”

[peaches2217]

🫂

🫂 - Comforting hugs

I said I wanted to deliver more Peach and Luigi Friendship content and by God I meant it

Back Home

~~~

“...But Weegee, the food! I’m almost tempted to call it quits and come home early just so I can eat something good again. I can’t even make anything good myself. Everything they eat is green! No carbs! No fat or oils or condiments! There’s not even any fruit! In fact… and, uh, the next three paragraphs are just about how much he hates the food.”

Peach giggled into the back of her glove. “The poor thing. He must be starving!”

“Oh, Mario doesn’t starve, Princess,” Luigi promised, scanning over his brother’s lengthy written rant once more. “He’ll eat anything! He’ll just act real grumpy the whole time if he doesn’t like it, like this.”

He folded the letter briefly to offer a demonstration of Mario’s Bad Food Face: arms crossed, eyebrows scrunched, lips set in a sulking pout. He mimed bringing a fork to his mouth and chewing with that unwavering expression, and Peach giggled again.

“Then at the very least, we know to prepare a feast for him once he returns.”

“He’s already counting on it! Mentions it at the very end.” Luigi shook out the letter once more, skimmed past the extensive complaints, and continued translating: 

“I can’t say for sure yet, but it should only be another week or two before this is all wrapped up in a big, pretty bow. I’ll let you know if that changes. Otherwise, let’s have all the pasta our bellies can stand in a week or two’s time! Hugs, kisses, and one more big hug, Mario.”

Luigi smoothed the creases in the paper with his thumbs and handed it to Peach. She admired the handwriting, and with her index finger she traced the indents his pen had left in the paper. “He writes differently in different languages,” she noted. “His penmanship is much more relaxed here. When he writes to me, each word looks careful and neat.”

“Well, you’re really the only other person he writes to, you know.”

“Ah! That might explain it.” Peach smiled down at the paper in her hands. “His letters to me are the only time he actually writes in the common tongue, then! No wonder he spends so much time getting the penmanship perfect.”

“Mmhm,” Luigi nodded, and he couldn’t help but tap his foot arrhythmically beneath the small table they shared. She almost got it. Almost. He thought to give her a nudge in the right direction, maybe reveal all the hours Mario spent hunched over his work bench forcing his hand to produce dainty curves and elegant lines because I write like a Conkdor with its head chopped off and a pen taped to its foot! That’s not good enough for a princess, Weegee!...

But something in Peach’s face made him take pause. She still smiled softly, but her eyes were unfocused, even as she continued observing the letter.

“Does it ever… get any easier?” She twirled a lock of hair around her finger absently as she spoke. “Is there ever a point where you don’t… you don’t worry for him so much that it makes you feel sick?”

Luigi’s throat felt suddenly tight. Worried. He thought he had recognized that look. He saw it on Mario’s face every so often, the tight smile and hazy eyes that told Luigi he needed a listening ear and a heaping helping of homemade spaghetti. It looked much more foreign on the princess’ face.

He knew she worried for his safety when he was gone. Did it keep her awake at night, he wondered, just as Mario would sometimes spend all night staring at the ceiling and praying for her wellbeing?

Before he could think up a reassuring answer, he blurted out an entirely inappropriate question, the very question he would present to Mario in the same situation: “Need a hug?”

Peach blinked up from the paper in her hand. Luigi was the sort who would squirm and shudder and run away as fast as his legs could carry him if anyone except Mario tried to touch him. She was just as surprised by his offer as he was. But before he could apologize and take it back and explain his slip-up—

“I’d greatly appreciate that, actually.”

Luigi gulped. Well… a friend in need and all of that, right?

He stood from his seat, and she followed suit. He held his arms out to either side of his body. What next? Was he supposed to step forward? Pull her in? That didn’t feel right. Mercifully, she closed their distance before he could make a wrong move.

She reached her arms beneath his and placed her small hands on his back, drawing closer and resting her cheek against the side of his head. She wasn’t much taller than him, maybe a few inches, but he suddenly felt tiny in comparison. A whole person and all of her fears, contained right here in his arms. It was almost too much.

Hesitantly, he returned her embrace, patting her back softly. “Mario’s… kinda like a cat,” he offered, eventually. He fixed his eyes on a distant shrub so he had something to focus on other than the overwhelming smell of strawberries encompassing him, and that at least helped him find his words better. “He keeps running off and getting pulled into who-knows-what, but in the end he always comes back home. You never really stop worrying for him. But you do get used to it. You realize he can take care of himself and you welcome him when he comes back and that’s really all there is to it, you know?”

Peach nodded. Her hair tickled Luigi’s face, fine and smooth. He wanted to sneeze.

He was relieved when she pulled away, taking a deep breath of clean air, but she still had that look, and that needed to change. He stepped forward again and placed his hands on her shoulders. More comfortable, still physical, maybe helpful? He hoped it was helpful. “Loving Mario feels like a full-time job sometimes,” he joked, “but I wouldn’t worry yourself sick. Nothing could stop him from coming back home.”

Color rose into Peach’s cheeks — oh, she was definitely hung up on “loving Mario,” that was rich — and finally, she graced him with a sincere, full-hearted smile. “Thank you, Luigi,” she said, and he squeezed her shoulders in response.

Tension that he hadn’t realized he’d been holding in his body released when he sat back down, and he melted into his chair. That was enough physical contact for one day, or maybe a week or six.

“Perhaps we can discuss the details of his Welcome Home feast,” Peach suggested, grinning playfully as she held Mario’s letter out to him. Luigi grinned right back. He certainly preferred to see the princess in good spirits.

“Or maybe we should have something good for dinner ourselves.” He took the letter and held it to his chest with all the mock-sadness he could muster. “In his honor.”

“You’re right. It’s what he would want for both of us.”

“We should have all of his favorites, to celebrate his selflessness.”

“He’s going to hate us.”

“Worth it.”

Peach laughed as she rose once more and ushered for Luigi to follow her, presumably to the palace kitchens. He carefully tucked Mario’s letter back into his pocket and followed after her.

[siempregavi30]

Maestra P.G. pt. 1

Warnings: None for now :)

Barcelona, one of Spains most popular cities, home to one of the most successful Football clubs known to mankind and with the prettiest beach, is also the home of the eighteen year-old perspective nursery teacher, Aerin Harding, who has yet to accommodate to her life in Spain, since she is only there for a one-year internship, before having to go back to Austria, where she was born and raised all her life.

In Barcelona she had to start from zero, all her friends had chosen Italy, Sweden, Ireland or America for their internships, but Aerins heart had always beaten for Spain. Yes, even in Austria the love for FC Barcelona is widely spread, and Aerins father was no exception. She grew up with football games, having a Messi-obsessed father meant watching games and re-caps almost ever two to three nights, and though she hated it at first (mostly because her father was obviously loving the Argentinian Player more than his own offspring) but over time, MSN had the little girl under their spell as well. Watching “Neymar JR skills and goals, 2015/2016” or “Lionel Messi best moments” had become a routine for the girl, there was not a single unwatched video. Not a single match she missed. Not a single time she didn´t sing “Cant del Barca” along whenever she heard it on TV. So when the time came to choose a city for an internship, the girl didn´t hesitate to choose Barcelona.                                                                                                                              And that´s exactly where she is now.                                                         “Emilia! You know we don´t climb on the fence, you could hurt yourself,” the brunette young adult educates the small, blonde five-year-old, who only responds with a shy nod, before taking off to join her friends on the swings.

Suddenly the Headteacher approaches Aerin, whose hands immediately start sweating, her anxiety running a hundred miles per hour, brain coming up with countless of possibilities and scenarios with situations that could equal the girl being in trouble, worse, maybe even kicked out from her nursery, even though she´s sure she hasn´t done anything wrong.

“Aerin, can I talk to you for a second?”

“Of course, Miss Evans!” She puts a bright smile on her face, allows her green eyes to sparkle with happiness, desperately trying to mask the cold shiver that runs down her spine.

“Tomorrow we´ll have a child join us, whose rather special. He´s very shy and doesn´t allow many people near him or see through him. He´s just moved here from Los Angeles and like you, doesn´t speak any Spanish, so you´ll have one thing in common,” the older woman cracks a joke, and Aerin almost sighs with relief, but plays it off with a small giggle.

Miss Evans quickly brushes the palms of her hands over her black pencil skirt, while clearing her throat, “What I´m trying to tell you is, don´t let that effect you. It´s possible that he will be cold to you, express his distaste, or maybe ignore every attempt of contact, but he will be like that to everyone. It´s just that this can be very frustrating for trainees, especially one as perfectionistic as you.”

The brunette girl takes in the information provided by the Headteacher, going through the explanation of possible behavior in her head once again. “Thank you for letting me know, Miss Evans,” she finally responds with a curt nod, and the Headteacher ushers back to her office, hoping she didn´t miss any important calls during her absence.

“Are you nervous now?”, the voice of a girl causes her to spin around. Strawberry blonde hair is pulled up into a neat ponytail, the tips of them curled, a white bow wrapped around it securely, while blue eyes stare curiously at her. “No, I don´t think so. Maybe a little intimidated,” Aerin answers her friend, Elise, a trainee from Dublin. Elise giggles, showing off her prominent dimples and pearly white teeth, “By a child?”

“A child with special behavior.”

“That´s Aerin to you,” a third person chimes in, and it´s none other than Eden, the only person in their little trio, who was actually born and raised in Spain, but not in Barcelona. Eden is from Cadiz, but just like Aerin, is a big fan of the local football club and wanted to live there, because it meant she could attend games more often. Eden had short, blonde hair with frizzy curls, brown hair and a face adorned with freckles. Aerin only shrugs at her friends, before lifting up her wrist to look at her watch. “I´m done for today,” she tells her friends, who still have four more hours to go, with an apologetic smile.

“Lucky you!”, Elise huffs, before turning her attention to the small boy who was tugging at her sweater to gain her attention. “Girls night at my place on Friday, are you still in?”, Eden asks, crossing her arms, and Aerin nods. “Of course. God knows I need it.” Her friends giggle at her statement, and Aerin quickly makes her way into the building to collect her stuff to leave.

Finally in the secluded and comforting confinement of her car, she leans her head back and sighs deeply. School has become stressful, and even though she is on an internship abroad, she still has homework to do and online exams to take, which was becoming more and more unbearable and unnecessarily hard over the past month. In addition, homesickness has been sneaking itself into her subconsciousness, FaceTimes with her eleven-year-old brother were keeping her from bursting into a fit of tears and sobs every night, and the comforting words of her mother kept giving her strength. Her fathers jokes would lift up her mood too, but not when she was in the middle of a rant and he joked about her struggles.

Even though he is fourty-five years old, he still has to learn when it is appropriate to joke around, or what a joke should include.

Spoiler Alert: It shouldn´t be your childs struggles, but Aerin doesn´t have the heart to tell him, because even though it´s annoying at times, it brings her some sort of calmness and relief, a sign to not take life as seriously and try to enjoy things from time to time.

At home, she swiftly moved into her kitchen after changing into her pajamas, because in the car on her way to her small one-bedroom Apartment, she decided that it is the perfect day for her comfort food, pasta, but the way her mother always cooks it, along with the special sauce. While rummaging through her cabinets, searching for all the necessary ingredients, her phone rings, and without sparing the screen a glance, she accepts the call, expecting it to be her mother or younger sibling, but is instead met with the voice of Talia, her childhood best friend.

“Girl, you have no idea what happened!” Aerin jumps at the exclamation, for a moment not knowing who is on the other end of the call, before she sighs. “I don´t so please, enlighten me.” “Remember the guy I was telling you about like, last week?”

“Justin?”

“What? No, the other one.”

“Sebastian.”

“Are you still stuck in the past? Why are you talking about guys from three months ago? Do you remember Lucas´ friend, the tall guy with juicy lips and a buzzcut?” Aerin scratches her head, thinking about the description, “You mean Andy?”

“No, that´s Destiny´s cousin, he´s so weird now. Big glow down after me, as expected. I´m talking about Ryan,” Talia exclaims from the other end of the phone, as if it is the most obvious thing in the world and Aerin can almost picture the smirk on her face. “Ah, I remember now.” Aerin has no idea who her friend is talking about, but Talia doesn´t need to know that.

“Yeah, anyways he asked me on a date,” the curly haired brunette snickers devilishly, and something in Aerins chest squeezes at the familiar sound, the homesickness is almost unbearable and the need to hug Talia is prominent. “That´s great, T! Did you say yes?” Talia bursts out into a fit of laughter, the sound of skin slapping, probably Talia smacking her thigh to emphasize the fact that she finds Aerins statement to be hilarious, can be heard and the green-eyed girl only huffs, while her eyes dart between two packs of pasta, unsure if she wants the ones that look like bows or spirals. “Hell no, he´s ugly. Are you saying I should date ugly guys, because I´m ugly?” Spirals it is then, and additional to the homesickness, she´s about to get a headache.

“Of course not Talia. I don´t even know that Ryan looks like, but if he´s ugly I´m glad you said no,” she sweettalks her way out of misery and hears her friend hum in approval. “So, what have you been up to lately? You haven´t been texting me as much,” Talia asks, and Aerin places the pot filled with water onto her stove. “The usual. School´s been stressing me out lately,” she admits to her friend, the only person she can really talk with when it comes to school.

Aerin fears that if she talks about this with her parents, they´ll just worry too much and worrying parents most of the times add more stress, rather than take it away.

“Exams and stuff?”

“Yup,” she answers, popping the P. Talia groans from the opposite side of the call, “Bro, you´re in Spain, shouldn´t you be partying hard every night? Salsa, fiesta, siesta or whatever, you know? Like, get some guy to teach you Bachata or something!” Aerin chuckles, the typical Talia-Type-Answer is exactly what she needs, she realizes. “I wish, but sadly that´s not possible. Also, the handful of friends I have here hates partying,” she explains her friend, while pulling her brown hair into a messy bun. “At this point you need me to move there so you can enjoy life. How come you didn´t already die of boredom?” Having Talia move to Barcelona would truly be a blessing to Aerin, because she has never been this far apart from her best friend, has never not seen her for months straight.

“I wish you could move here, T. I miss you,” Aerin mumbles into the air, her phone is placed on the counter. Talia sighs, “Trust me Rin. I miss you too. Austria is basically dead without you.” “You still pull dates, though.” Both girls share a moment of laughter, but the pain and desperation can be heard from both sides, the laughter is anything but sincere. The water in the pot begins to bubble, signaling that it´s finally ready for Aerin to cook her pasta. “Hey T, I´m a bit busy with cooking right now, how about we FaceTime later?” “Sure thing girl! Just call me, you know I´m never busy,” Aerin can see the wink Talia throws at the phone in her head, and giggles, before bidding her friend goodbye and ending the call.

After getting the pasta ready, she sits down at the table, that harbors four chairs in her living-room, while scrolling through social-media, liking some of the posts of her friends that share their favorite moments in random picture-dumps. One of Aerins closest friends, Ella, posted pictures of herself attending different fashion shows in Milano, and some random pictures of cats and Italys street-food. For a few seconds, her thumb hovers over the empty heart-button. Something in her just doesn´t want to like the dump. Something in her is upset at the fact that all of her classmates seem to be enjoying their time away from their families, out living their best lives while still managing school as if it´s nothing, able to attend fashion shows or eat out at lavish restaurants. Meanwhile Aerin is once again, at the verge of a big mental breakdown. Homesickness, fear of failing school and just the language barrier in Spain. Everything always adds up and up, until one day the bubble of anxiety pops.

Aerin pauses to take a deep breath, the familiar scent of the comfort-meal in front of her, though only for a short moment, gives her the feeling of being at home again, surrounded by her family in the small Austrian Town, where everyone knows each other. The girl shakes her head, coming back to reality and presses the empty heart, turning it a soft red, before she continued swiping up her screen, revealing other posts and reels.

The next day, Aerin is up early to choose the perfect outfit. Kids love colors, boys especially love bright, loud and energetic colors and she wants to make a good impression on the, allegedly, cold little boy, so she decides it´s the perfect opportunity to pull out an orange blazer to pair it with jeans and a white blouse. She hates that blazer, the whole outfit in general, because it makes her look like she has her life under control, even though she´s far away from it, but it´s not the time to mope and cry about the unfairness of her life and the way she´s living it. Aerin has her mind set on that little boy. She wants him to like her, she needs an achievement that can prove that she´s capable of this, capable for this job, capable for this city, capable to get a degree in two and a half years. Colorful bracelets are wrapped around her left wrist, she doesn´t like bracelets on the hand she writes with, and decent rings adorn her fingers, showcasing her milky-pink nails. With one last glance at the mirror on the wall of her small hallway, she exits the warm comfort of her house and enters the spring-air of Barcelona, which she can only enjoy for a few seconds before she climbs into her car. It´s a nice little VW Polo in white, a gift from her beloved Nana. Her head begins to throb at the intense scent of the little Scent-Tree and she immediately opens the windows of her car.

The kids in the English-Speaking nursery eye Aerin with bright eyes. It´s not like she arrives dressed in black every day, but usually her outfits include more neutral colors like cream, sage green, white, a light yellow etc. “Cute fit you got there Rin!”, Elise compliments immediately, clasping her hands together while smiling brightly. “Thank you!”, Aerin salutes her friend, greets all children, and slips into the confinement of her little playroom at the end of the hall. She immediately moves to her desk and organizes everything to make it look as perfect and as professional as it can get, incase the parents walk in to introduce themselves. She straightens her blouse, brushes out some curls with the tips of her fingers and looks through her plan for the day, since she had forgotten to do it the night before.

A sudden knock disturbs the silence of the empty playroom. The Headteacher, Miss Evans, opens the door and peeks inside, before she announces, “You have a guest, Miss Harding.” Aerins jaw tightens, her palms turn sweaty and she forgets every single word in English, her brain throws German words around like it´s a pillow-fight. A deep breath in. 1,2,3. She breathes out, unclenching her jaw and forcing her lips to form a smile, as she points at the two chairs in front of her desk, non-verbally asking the guests to come in. A young woman walks in, looking barely older than Aerin herself, her blonde hair is pulled into a low bun, her plump, red-painted lips display a smile and she´s wearing office-clothing, meaning a gray pencil skirt, a white blouse and a gray blazer with black kitten heeled-shoes. Aerins eyes move to the little boy, who´s holding on to his mothers hand, his hair the exact same blonde, a small button nose, pouty lips and big brown eyes. She quickly stands up from her chair and holds her hand out for the woman to take. “Aerin Harding, very nice to meet you Miss…?”, her voice trails off at the end, expecting the woman to talk.

“Páez! Sofia Páez, and this is Manuel Pablo Páez. It´s very nice to meet you too Miss Harding,” she introduces herself and her little son. Aerin smiles softly, for some weird reason the mother´s nervousness takes away some of her own. She crouches down to the height of the young boy and extends her hand, “Hello Manuel.” Instead of giving her his own little head, the boy hides behind his mothers legs, while still glancing at the trainee from time to time. Aerin licks her lips from frustration.

It´s okay. Kids are shy. This is normal. This means nothing.

“Okay, maybe next time,” she smiles at the mother of the boy, before motioning her to take a seat at one of the chairs, as she gets comfortable on her own chair. “Miss Páez, I´ve been told that little Manuel here will be staying in my playroom, which means I´ll be his main nursery teacher. Are there any allergies or other important things I need to look out for?”, the eighteen-year-old asks, while pulling out a notebook and a pen, proud at the fact that she didn´t stutter.

“He has a peanut allergy.”

Of course has.

“And he really loves carrots.”

Of course he loves carrots.

Aerin writes the information down into her notebook, unaware of the fact that she´s poking out her tongue through her lips, a sign of concentration. She hears the blonde woman giggle for a second and looks up with a curious glance. “My cousin, Pablo, does that as well,” she explains, and Aerin forces herself to smile, while cocking an eyebrow up. “I´m sorry, what exactly does he do as well?” “Stick his tongue out when he´s concentrated.” “Ah, I do that?”, Aerin softly chuckles, “I´ve never noticed.” Suddenly a new burst of curiosity sparks through Aerin, as she asks the woman in front of her, “Pablo, you named your son after your cousin. Are you guys close?” A soft blush coats the tips of Sofias ears, a fond, sincere smile spreads on her face, “Yes. I´ve basically raised him, along with his older sister Aurora. In our family he´s…kind of a star. I thought that maybe naming Manuel after him could give him some luck. Even an ounce of Pablos luck on Manuel would be enough.” Aerin nods, fidgeting with the rings on her fingers. “Well then, I hope I can contribute to a successful future!”, her tone signals the young mother that their conversation is coming to an end. “I have no doubt you will,” the woman expresses her thoughts, and a burst of pride courses through the young adults chest.

She accompanies Sofia to the door, allowing all the other children in her playroom to enter. “Miss Harding, can I just say something before I leave?” Aerins eyes dart to the four-year-old boy, who´s looking at the other kids, before she nods. Sofia sighs, “Manuel can be very difficult to get along with. In America, I took him to special teachers, but he would refuse to talk to any of them. He wouldn´t play, eat or say anything the entire time he was there. It would mean the world to me if you could look out for him. He´s…an easy target.” The brunette girl places a comforting hand on the shoulder of the blonde, “Don´t worry Miss Páez. Manuel is safe here.” A deep breath exits Sofias nose, as if she´s been holding onto it during her entire visit. She thanks Aerin and quickly presses kisses on Manuels cheeks before exiting the Nursery. Aerin closes the door to her playroom, pleased by the atmosphere inside. All kids are busy with playing, drawing or looking through books. All, except one.

Manuel.

Aerin sighs. “Manuel, don´t you want to play with the other kids?”, she asks, placing her hands on her lap while leaning down near his height. He looks like someone she knows, Aerin realizes, but she can´t pinpoint who. He has big brown eyes and frowns often. Manuel doesn´t respond to the trainees question, only stares at the ground. “Do you want me to show you around the playroom?” Comfort is key, especially for little kids. Only in an environment where they feel comfortable and safe, they will allow themselves to open up, like a flower blooming in spring. But to get comfortable in a new environment, you have to get to know it first. The blonde boy only fists the hem of his sweater, eyes still trained on the ground and for a moment Aerin fears she spoke German instead of English and confused the boy.

“Aerinnnnn!”, a young girl jumps towards the girl, holding a book in her direction to show her the cover. “Can you read this to me? Please?” Aerin adverts her eyes from Manuel, a wide smile spreading on her face, “Of course Clara. Go sit down on the couch, I´ll join you in a moment.” The girl giggles excitedly and jumps towards the book-corner of the playroom, that has a pink-blue child-sized couch perched against the wall. “Would you like to join us?”, she tries once again with the stubborn little boy, who once again, doesn´t respond. Aerin lets out a defeated sigh, before she takes off her blazer to place it on her chair to join Clara.                                

“It´s very nice of you to visit me, Pablo!”, Sofia smiles at her cousin, who is none other than FC Barcelonas golden boy, Gavi. Gavi places the Take-Out he bought for his cousin on her desk in her office, a small grin spreads on his face. “It´s good to have you back Sof. Expect me here more often.”

“It´s good to be back. You don´t know how much I´ve missed Spain,” the blonde woman sighs, taking the contents of the bag out to see what her precious cousin bought her. “Where´s Manuel? It´s been a while since I´ve last seen him,” the youngster lets himself fall on the expensive chair opposite of his cousin, crossing his ankles in the process. “Ah, he´s probably at home by now, with Diego. Today was his first day in nursery school,” she excitedly tells Pablo, who softly smiles. “His nursery teacher is very nice. Her name is Aerin, she´s a trainee from Austria, but she seems very professional. I think she´s your age,” Sofia continues, while staring at her Burrito with hearty eyes. “Sounds like a real gem,” Gavi answers, though he believes that he couldn´t care any less about his great-cousins teachers, or personal information about them.

“Oh Pablo, before I forget; next week on Friday I have a meeting with my boss and Diego is in Valencia for business. Could you please be so nice and pick Manuel up from school on that day? I have no one else at the moment,” Sofia pleads, frowning at her cousin. “At what time?” He really doesn´t want to. Sofia sighs from relief, “You have until five. I´d pick him up from your place at seven, if that´s okay?”

It´s not, but it´s only been about two weeks since Sofia returned back to Barcelona after living in Los Angeles for almost three years, so he couldn´t really say no to her. “It´s fine. Ana wanted to come over, she´s missed him al lot, so I´ll just let her handle it,” he explains his cousin, who excitedly claps her hands. “You´re the best Pablito!” Gavi can´t hear that sentence anymore. He lost count on how many times he´s heard it in the past week in total. He loves the attention and recognition he´s getting, especially the special treatment he´s been receiving the last few months have been nothing but pure bliss to his youthful ego, though sometimes he fears all the fame has gotten too much to his head. It ´s just that compliments have stopped affecting the eighteen-year-old, all he hears all day is praise.

“Bravo Gavi, you´re insane!”

“Gavi is ESPNs´ number five of the best youngsters!”

“Spains youngest world-cup goal scorer: Gavi!”

He doesn´t dare think about the edits on Instagram or TikTok, or the way he has started to purposefully lift his jerseys during games, sometimes even taking them off completely, while being painfully aware of the effect this has on most of his viewers. Who can blame him, though? He´s eighteen and has girls his age, some older, some younger, wrapped around his finger, while some of his friends struggle to come out of the talking-stage, most of their attempts even getting rejected. Gavi doesn´t even have to try to get someone to like him, they just do. His eyes land on the picture of Manuel, perched on Sofias desk and Gavi almost frowns at the facial expression of the little boy. He stares straight ahead, his big brown eyes seem so distant, and there´s a small smile displayed on his lips, though it doesn´t seem sincere. “Why does Manu look so sad in that picture?”

“That´s him being happy, Pablo.”

“Oh.”

The youngster meets a lot of children on a daily, especially young football fans, obviously, and never has he seen a child look as gloomy as Manuel did, while being “happy”.

He concludes that he now really dreads Friday, especially when he thinks about the fact that Ana Pelayo, a friend of his since childhood, would be coming over for…adult business… and now he would have to take care of a four-year-old gloomy little gremlin. Gavi regrets saying yes. He knows Sofia has basically no one here, except for him and her husband Diego, the rest of their family still lives in Sevilla and Sofia knows that Gavi has more than enough space in his house for little Manu. “Speaking of Ana,” Gavi dreads the conversation that is about to follow up with that question already, “how is she?”

“She´s good. Recently she got invited to an event,” he discreetly answers. “Yeah? There are rumors going around,” Sofia smirks while taking a bite of her Burrito. Pablos lips tighten into a straight line, even though he knew curious Sofia, who always reads about the latest tea online, would ask him about that. “She´s only been to one game of mine and people are going crazy. We´re just friends,” he answers as nonchalant as possible, but much to his dismay, Sofias smirk only widens. “That´s not what your mom and Aurora said.” Every vein in Gavis body basically freezes, a sense of betrayal and anger courses through his body, causing the hair on his body to rise uncomfortably. How could his mother possibly know about his affiliations with Anita? He only ever told his sister, Pedri and Ansu and Alejandro and Ferran know minor details. He wants to vanish into thin air with the clap of his hands, the conversation was taking an uncomfortable turn and he fears that soon he might start blushing, which would just confirm his cousins suspicions.

“What did they tell you?”, he quirks an eyebrow up, acting clueless about the accusations. Sofia was a huge part of his life, she took care of him, changed his diapers, bathed him, mothered him at some points, but she wasn´t there the past three years of his life. The last time he saw her in person, he was fourteen, at the verge of turning fifteen, and now his nineteenth birthday is mere months away, he had matured and changed, so Gavi knows it is almost impossible for her to read him like a book, an ability she had a few years back. “Well, your mother claims you´re crushing on her and Rora said you kissed at a party,” Sofia wiggles with her eyebrows and adverts her gaze to the screen of her Laptop. Gavis eye twitches, he can´t believe that his family would ever expose him like that. “No. The kiss; we were drunk. But the crush? Big no,” he shakes his head with furrowed brows. In that sense, he wasn´t lying. Gavi doesn´t have a crush on his gorgeous friend. He had been crushing on her in the past, but that vanished quick after people started shipping them or claiming that they are secretly dating, making edits of Ana, which unintentionally got to the brunettes head, causing her to be quite egotistical at times. She was basking in the lavish lifestyle of his fame, and at first Gavi wanted to cut ties, but with fame comes frustration in more ways than one. So, they agreed to be friends with benefits, both allowed to see, date or fuck other people, and Gavi used his pretty face and toned body to his advantage whenever he entered a club in Barcelona.

How could he not? He´s a teenage boy with a great life, no privacy, but he can fulfill his families´ wildest dreams, buy them designer items every once in a while, and lives in a spacy apartment with the best view to Barcelonas beach. Plus, you only live once, so why not make the best of it? Sofia nods at his statement and doesn´t pry any further, which Gavi couldn´t be any more grateful for, because the conversation about his love-life is usually one he avoids at all cost. He quickly pulls his phone out to text Pedri.

Me: Hey, quick question. Do you, by any chance, have a fake beard or something?

Pedri: Gavi what the fuck.

A whole week.

Aerin has been trying to get Manuel to respond for a whole week, but all she gets is a blank stare right into her eyes, which at this point never fail to make a shiver run down her spine. For some reason Eden thought it was a good idea to claim that maybe Manuel has been adopted, is faking his age and is actually a serial killer who presents himself like a child. The rest of their Friday-girls-night was spent with Aerin thinking back to that statement and seeing if Manuel really showed any signs of being a serial killer who is not four, but actually thirty-two.

Finally it´s Friday and Aerin can use the weekend to study for her geography test on Thursday, though she knows that the burnout that is eating her alive, won´t give her the necessary motivation to actually take her notes out and carefully read through them, even though she would love to do that. It´s always the same routine: she wants to study, reads books or listens to music instead of studying, gets anxious about the test, gets anxious about her anxiety, decides that Saturday is her self-care day which means no studying and an hour before the test she gets a mental breakdown where she curses herself for not using her time to study. Will she do it differently the next time? No.

She´s alone with Manuel again, somehow he´s always the last to get picked up, which is probably the biggest downside of having successful business-people as your parents. They are sitting at her desk. The chair on the right is his favorite spot, especially because he can see outside through the window and watch people live their lives instead of doing what people his age usually do: cry, eat, sleep, play, cry, eat, play and so on. Though he doesn´t respond or look at her, Aerin sometimes finds herself babbling to him about the most random things.

On Wednesday, where they were in the same position as they are right now, she told him about a crazy lady in the supermarket, who was desperately searching for Principe Cookies with Moratas face on them, because in her opinion searching for Gavi or Pedri cookies would be worth the frustration. “So I went to the arcade to get the plush animal I was telling you about on Monday, and found out someone else had already won it,” she complains to Manuel, who swings with his feet, an arm draped over the back of his chair, gaze fixed on the window. “You don´t know how disappointed I was, Manu. It was crazy. I could´ve cried my eyes out,” she huffs and crosses her list of daily tasks. She had started including her conversations with Manuel to her To-Do-List. “And then I went to the guy who works there and asked if they had another one of those pink cats with glitter tongues but he-“

A knock.

Aerin frowns at the disruption, before asking the person to enter her playroom. The door opens and reveals a guy, wearing a baseball cap, a mask covering the lower half of his face and dark sunglasses perched on the bridge of his nose. Manuel and Aerin exchange glances for a second. “Uhh hi I´m Pablo. I think Sofia told you that I´d pick up the little grem- little gem today?”, he stutters while rubbing the back of his neck awkwardly. Aerin smiles, “Ah, so you must be the Pablo Manu is named after!” “You know about that?” “Sofia shares a lot of personal information. I´m Aerin by the way.”

Ah, so that´s her.

Gavi definitely agrees with her, his cousin is truly an over-sharer. “So, ehm, Manuel, are you coming?”, he awkwardly walks up to the boy and extends his hand, expecting him to quickly grip his and walk out with him, but Manuel only stares at his hand, before turning his head back to the window. Aerin bites her lip in order to not burst out with laughter and humiliate the unknown guy any further. Gavi watches her with a, to her invisible, frown. Who does she think she is? That she´s some kind of psychic just because she works with children on a daily and can control them any better than he can? Hell no, Gavi can do that too. “Manu? Vamos, I have surprise guest for you at home!” Manuel doesn´t even budge, only blinks. Gavi could feel the embarrassment and frustration grow in the pit of his stomach, and Aerin could sense the insecurity coming from his body. She quickly closes the cap of her pen, before standing up and kneeling in front of Manuel, disturbing his clear view outside. She tickles his stomach, “Listen big man, how about we go outside instead of just staring at it from inside? I heard there are some really pretty flowers at the parking-lot, and I want to take a few home with me, so come and help me pick out the prettiest ones!”, she softly holds the boys’ hand and urges him to stand up, which the boy does without a word of protest. Pablo can feel his eye twitch at the fact that she did that so easily and smoothly but follows them to the hallway so the boy can change. “Look at that! You have new boots, and they can even light up! I´m so jealous Manu,” she lets out an exasperate sigh, and for the first time, he smiles. Aerins eyes widen, she almost drops his boot out of her hands, but quickly regains her composure. A flash of pride crashes through her body and she can´t suppress the wide smirk growing on her face.

While Aerin is busy with Manuels boots, Gavi takes a look at the pictures hanging on the walls. Most of them are, as expected in a nursery, pictures of children, smiling at the camera, covered in cake-batter or in the garden, too busy with plucking flowers to notice the camera, taking pictures of them. His eyes land on a picture of Aerin and Eden, a Barcelona scarf is wrapped around Aerins neck, the FC Barcelona home-kit almost hidden beneath it, while smiling widely at the camera. Eden on the other hand, has her fists raised into the air, wearing the third kit proudly. “You´re a Culer?”, he asks, curiosity suddenly sparked. Aerin looks back to Gavi, “Yes.” “Who´s your favorite player?”, he leans his back against the wall, watching how the girl helps his little cousin with his shoes. “I have many,” Aerin answers, tucking a strand of hair behind her ear. “And those are?”, he pries further, mostly because his ego wants her to say his name, to praise him, tell him how much she loves Gavi and how big her unhealthy obsession with him is, unaware of the fact that she´s basically admitting it to his face. “If I had to choose just one, I´d say Ousmane Dembele, but my top five are Dembele, Pedri, Araujo, De Jong and Ter Stegen,” she lists and Gavi feels every bit of his self-esteem crumble for a split second as he doesn´t hear the four letters of his shortened last name exit her plump lips. He doesn´t ask further, though. Manuel stands up from his seat, dressed and ready to leave the school. “Bye Manu,” she waves at him with a bright smile, and Manu waves back with a monotone expression.

Gavi takes the little boy up into his arms, and looks at Aerin for a second, “Adios, Maestra.”

[crusherthedoctor]

4, 39, 40 :D

4. Where do you find inspiration for new ideas?

The first one is obvious… Sonic himself! Wouldn't make sense to spend so much time on a Sonic fic if I didn't care about his universe. That said, I don't intend to pull an Archie with the lore. Stellar focuses on its own story and setting that just so happens to partially incorporate one previous bit of lore, in a similar manner to what SA1 did with the backstory introduced in S3&K. There are some mild references to other lore, but never in a way that tries in vain to wrap it all together in a neat little bow.

The environments are also largely inspired by that of previous Sonic locales. Mostly from non-mainline installments, since for various reasons (being on a handheld ala Advance/Rush, being a racer ala Riders/Rivals/Sonic R, being on motion controls ala Storybooks), they didn't have the same level of freedom as those in the main games, meaning there's a lot to expand on and make something new out of.

The other major influence for environments and aesthetics is, you guessed it, Spyro. I make no secret that le purple dragon has helped shape up the world of Viridonia aesthetically, but unlike fans who think Sonic should be little more than Furry DBZ, or IDW making random anime references that don't work, there is some thought put into it, and never at the expense of the Sonic universe's own identity. I think both worlds are very similar in aesthetics anyway, so if I see something in Spyro that makes me think "Wow, that would be so cool to see in Sonic!", I then think of how to translate it in a form that benefits Sonic's world, as opposed to wondering why the square doesn't fit in the round hole.

For the mystic entities that are tied to the Ethereal Zone, since they each have different powers, shapes and colours, I got the idea to base each of them on a different mythological creature for a subtle thematic resonance despite how otherwise different they are from each other. They're not one-to-one like the creatures they're inspired from mind you, they're definitely Sonicy interpretations (eg: the fire-themed one is a mix between a phoenix and a feathered serpent ala Quetzalcoatl, since I wasn't sure if making it a phoenix straight-up would make it sound too similar to Ifrit from Rivals 2), but I thought it'd be a fun twist on the giant monster schtick… though it helps that all of them are controlled via Time Eater-esque cybernetics by a certain round chum. Going out of control? Upstaging Eggman? In a Crusher fic? Not happening, son.

And speaking of the doctor, obviously I've took notes from many of his game portrayals, with S3&K's determination, SA1's dickery, and Forces' cunning being three of the biggest examples. But another influence for my interpretation of the doctor is the Mother 3 portrayal of Porky Minch: specifically, how he is clearly working towards a big end goal, yet is also simultaneously setting up seemingly unrelated projects all over Viridonia, playing its population (save Trudy) for fools, and overall treating the island as though it's his personal playground. This is not a Mephiles situation however: all of this does turn out to play a part in his endgame. He just happened to plan it out in a way that can also feed into his ego and hedonism in the meantime.

And Trudy… is Trudy. There were some mild influences for certain aspects of her design, but her personality pretty much grew upon itself as I built on her. I wanted to create a character that was mellow, but still fun and quirky, and could still bounce off Sonic and Co without being seen as "the boring one" or "the nag who can't be bothered with Sonic". I also find an appeal in shy characters finding the courage to do things they'd never expect themselves to do, so y'know.

There are other bits of inspiration I could mention, which includes concepts that are neither Sonic or Spyro-related… but I don't want to spoil more than necessary for now. XP

39. Share a snippet from a WIP

Note: This is a slightly older draft of the moment in question, so there might be some minor differences in the final one.

Sonic grew concerned by her stunned reaction, hoping that he didn't offend her. "You don't mind it, do you?"

"No, of course not. There is absolutely nothing wrong with it. It's just…" Her right hand clutched the fingers of the other, subtly squeezing them in the process. Her vision was directed at a nonspecific pile of red leaves not too far away from them. This all seemed so silly. There was really no justification for this. No excuse for her to treat such a thing with the kind of awe reserved for being within the presence of an omnipotent. And yet…

"No one's… no one's ever given me a nickname before…"

Sonic appeared to be puzzled by this, which was then followed by him exchanging a brief glance with Tails. His lifelong pal simply gave him a shrug in response.

"If it's any consolation," the fox piped up, with a faint hint of a smirk morphing on his face. "Some of his nicknames are better than others."

"Hey!" Sonic playfully raised his arms in defense, which did nothing to hide his sheepish grin. "So what if they can get a little simple! If she doesn't like it, I can totally drop it! If I have to get my head around the right pronunciation of her name, then so be it!"

"No, it's… it's nice," she insisted softly. A gentle smile slowly found itself on her face as well. "It's an honor, truly. You can call me that if you want to."

"You sure?"

A simple, meek nod was what he received, and it was at this point that her eyes shifted once more. After what appeared to be some hesitance, they gained the courage to meet with Sonic's own.

Sonic's eyes held onto their shared gaze for a couple of seconds, before he turned to Tails again. The fox only gave another shrug, this time to suggest that there was no further reason to debate the matter. After a silent understanding between the two heroes, the hedgehog nodded triumphantly.

"Well then," he announced, with a wink for his new friend. "I guess it's truly Trudy from now on!" As he gave a characteristic thumbs up, she could only continue smiling at the display, and her ears lowered ever so slightly. This was all so very sudden for her even now, but if they sincerely value her company and assistance, then maybe... maybe... it wouldn't hurt to keep tagging along with them.

40. If someone were to make fanart of your work, what fic or scene would you hope to see?

I wouldn't be fussy, since I'd be grateful for any moments, or environments, that they decided to portray.

But if I had to pick one… I suppose a certain confrontation between Trudy and Eggman would be awesome. Or a certain heart-to-heart between Trudy and Sonic. :>

[faintingheroine]

Do you think it matters that at the end of "Wuthering Heights," Cathy and Hareton are still just engaged, not married? It obviously adds to the novel's lack of sentimentality that there's no "10 years later, they're a long married couple with children and are blissfully happy" ending, a la "Jane Eyre" or certain other books. But is there any other significance to the fact the story ends before their marriage? Also, do you think it matters that while they plan to move to Thrushcross Grange and close up Wuthering Heights, they're still living at the Heights at the book's end?

I don’t feel that it matters in the sense that “they might not marry after all”, you can make that interpretation if you want to, but I don’t think that the book is really going for that. I do think that it is an interesting stylistic choice however.

As you said, it makes it much less sentimental and idealistic than the “ten years later with three children” epilogue ending. It also makes it a more clear parallel to Heathcliff and Cathy’s youthful relationship? They never married, they didn’t even really come close to it, so a youthful flirtation is a better parallel and a better “what could have been” than a proper husband and wife.

It also makes Lockwood able to continue the role he fancies for himself of the “suitor that had lost” (lol). If they were married maybe Lockwood would parallel Heathcliff’s situation vis-à-vis Cathy and Edgar’s marriage? And I don’t think the author was going for that.

And it of course also makes more sense for the book to end in the titular house. It feels more like an ending than a new beginning, if that makes sense?

It also makes Cathy and Heathcliff’s ghosts more central to the ending than the cosy Thrushcross Grange setting would have.

But ultimately this is more about Wuthering Heights’s general style of gaps and implications and ambiguities. This book would loathe to have everything be wrapped up in a nice little bow: It comes close to that, but it never does that. So, even if I personally don’t think that the author was going for “will they even marry?”, it is something to even have that ambiguity there. It is also neat in terms of the time frame, Lockwood comes back in 1802, exactly a year after he had first come to area, but Catherine and Hareton will marry on New Year’s Day in 1803: We have the ending before the new beginning starts.

Ultimately I like this choice. This is a clever book.

[mymistakewriting]

Carlos Reyes & the concept of trauma

This is a shorter one, written on my phone while I wait for my hair to dry so I can go to bed.

Trigger / content warnings: discussion of grief, mentions of passive suicidal ideation, poor handling of mental health???

First things first, let me make this SUPER clear so we're all going forward on this being on the same page: all of the trauma designed for Carlos within the confines of JUST the show? None of it is really his trauma. He doesn't react to his own life being in danger. He doesn't react to traumatic stimuli. He reacts to his loved ones being in danger or injured. To traumatize Carlos, they've only ever harmed another character he shared a connection with.

This man certainly has a few issues. He displays signs of OCD. His communication skills and sleep patterns and responses to environmental stressors STINK of PTSD. But it's all wrapped up in a neat little bow of control issues, something that's often joked about on the show (how often has someone called him a control freak? Yeah. Yeah, those are his trauma responses, baby)

Similarly, he's not often shown with the traditional overactive fight or flight - he wants everything controlled and in specified boxes so that he can handle unforseen stressors outside of his controlled environment easier. But he does freeze a lot.

He would genuinely rather be the one in danger than be the one on the sidelines. It's shown time and again. And it's also shown just how hard grief hits him when he can't save someone he cares about.

Where I think the passive suicidal behavior comes in lies specifically in how willing he is to put himself at risk for anyone and everyone. He does not care if he lives, as long as his loved ones survive it. Prime example, in neon letters: hostage situation. He didn't care that he was in danger. He only started acting out when TK showed up and was at risk. His loved ones will ALWAYS come first.

At the point he's at in his life, I don't think it's anything more than devotion being taken too far off instinct. I'll do another post some other day where I discuss all the other shit I think about him, though.

As always, Asks and dms are open if you wanna chat about anything!

[filthybat]

Happy holidays! (Part 1.)

One piece imagine of what every straw hat would gift you on Christmas

Characters: Luffy, Zoro, Nami

CW: fluff, platonic fluff, cute shenanigans, slight cursing, kinda a crack fic, in this contexts yall are bffs, so some people might be a little out of character.

Hey everyone, it’s Bat! This is my first post so I hope you enjoy it :3 (yes I know it’s not Christmas but hey, early Christmas present!) more parts soon to come!

⋆꙳•̩̩͙❅*̩̩͙‧͙ ‧͙*̩̩͙❆ ͙͛ ˚₊⋆

🍖 Luffy 🍖

- Luffy couldn’t sit still as he- very clumsily- handed you his present.

- It’s a cardboard box with one red bow slapped on top, and when confronted with the wrap job, he simply brushed it off with “who has time to open wrapping paper? C’mon open it already!!”

- Inside the box, you find…. A sling shot! and a pouch of pellets.

- “So? So? So? Whatcha think?! You like it? You love it? You love it!”

- As you were about to respond, stretchy arms snatched the box out of your hands

-“Here Lemme teach you! These are popping pellets so they explode when you hit them”

- Your brave captain demonstrates by chucking a pellet at the ground, which resulted in a loud pop, but no explosions as he advertised.

- The ship grew silent.

- As you asked to try a turn, he insisted on letting him find one that explodes.

- It’s resulted in the whole crew including yourself watching Luffy as he went through the whole pouch, chucking and throwing to no avail, no explosion.

- The pouch is empty, no explosion, and a very fussy captain sitting cross armed across from you, looking everywhere but you.

- Sanji left to get a broom and dust pan for what remains of your gift.

🗡️ Zoro 🗡️

- Not meeting your eyes, he casually hands you messily wrapped present with a neat green bow on top, but watches intensely as you unwrap it.

- “Sorry, i didn’t really have time…”

- Inside the box, you find… A bottle of premium sake!

- The tips of his ears are red, he dosent like this much attention on him.

- “For, you know, when you wanna… d-drink?” He sounded unsure of himself as he spoke.

- The crew haven’t seen him ever be this awkward.

- You thank him, and he just nods to get this awkward situation over with.

- Sanji huffed, looking smugly over at The swordsmen, “Really moss-head? To drink? How unoriginal and impersonal”

- “Huh? Wanna repeat that again, shitty cock?”

- Just Like that, they are at each others neck, kicking up dust as they fought.

- Don’t let the impersonal present fool you, it’s all he could manage at such short notice.

- Zoro originally planned on gifting a brand new sword for you, since you’ve shown interest in his training. He figured he could give you lessons, spend his days with you training, bonding over shared passion of blades. It’s one of the few ways the silent swordsmen can communicate how much he appreciates you being his ffeind without having to get all mushy and yuckie by using his words.

-But… he got lost on the way to the smith.

🍊 Nami 🍊

- A present was delicately placed on your lap, which is a contrast to how big the box actually is.

-Beautifully wrapped with orange glittery wrapping paper, and accented with green ribbons and bows. Nami took extra care in making sure every present was beautiful.

- You felt bad tearing into this, it was just too pretty!

- So you painstakingly unwrapped it carefully, as to not rip up the paper, which Nami appreciated. At least someone on the ship cares about effort.

- Inside the present, you find… A coat! Beautiful and fluffy, in your favorite color.

- You gasp and look at Nami, who simply smiles at your shocked expression

-“I saw you eyeing it at the shops in the last island we stopped at, thought since the holidays are coming up, I could get it before hand. Go ahead, try it on!” She urged, beckoning you to stand and don on the coat.

-… It fits! Perfectly even! How she got your measurements you’ll never know. And as you swayed and turned to check yourself out, she adds.

- “And since it’s the giving season, I’ll knock 100 Berri off your dept”

- To your shocked expression, she only winked

[izzy-b-hands]

What Happens To The Heart-Ch 1

A lil hate fucky initially then bittersweet sort of stizzy, in an au situation where Izzy finds Stede still skewered to the mast by his blade, instead of canon Lucius noticing it.

TW for the description of the sword being removed. It isn't super graphic, but it does reference it really being fkn stuck.

Got this up on my AO3 too if folks prefer to read there.

---

"For fuck's sake," Izzy scowls at the sight. "They left you here?!"

Stede waves, pale and shivering. "They did. All excited to go celebrate my victory."

"Mhm. Go enjoy it then," Izzy spits each word out. He should just leave now, forget waiting for the morning.

"I'd rather not," Stede winces. "At least not now. But not bad for a first duel, eh?"

Izzy blinks and stares and contemplates an answer.

He can't answer entirely negatively, and he's still angry and hurt and frustrated enough to find it upsetting.

"The gun powder trick was dirty," Izzy grumbles. "But good. Should keep that one in mind, since your skill with the sword needs so much work."

"You think so?" Stede asks, and it registers to Izzy that this stupidly angelic looking idiot is going into shock.

"Yeah," Izzy sighs. "Hang on."

He stomps towards the infirmary, past the jovial sounds of everyone in the galley, including Ed.

He doesn't want that to break his heart. Why should it? He knows what he and Ed have, and that it's the only thing they'll ever have. It's over now anyway, and he should let it go.

The closest he gets is angrily wiping away tears in between grabbing bandages and anything else he might need. He won't let anyone see that if he can help it.

"You're helping me," Stede says as Izzy approaches again. "You're helping me?"

"Shut the fuck up," Izzy replies, fighting to keep his voice from wavering. He keeps his head down as he sets supplies by the mast.

"I thought you'd be content to leave me here to die," Stede continues.

"Ed likes you," Izzy snaps his head back up to meet Stede's delirious gaze. "Ed..."

There are his inconvenient tears again. Like his balance and his stomach before, his eyes betray him now to his embarrassment. What nickname will they all assign him after he leaves? He doesn't want to know.

"Ed loves you; you fucking idiot," Izzy practically growls it and does his best to shut the tears down. "And it took nothing. All you had to do was be there and be incompetent and-"

"Izzy," Stede interrupts. "I-"

"Don't," Izzy says. "Here."

He strips off his leather glove, and puts it up to Stede's mouth.

"What am I supposed to do with-"

"Bite down on it," Izzy interrupts. "Unless you want everyone out here to see this. My luck, they'd think I was trying for a second go at killing you. They'd probably tear me to shreds, Ed included. But then that would be nice and neat a bow on it all for you, wouldn't it?"

Stede frowns, but opens his mouth and bites down.

"Okay," Izzy pulls off his leather vest, and wraps it around the sharp blade protruding from Stede. "I can't guarantee this will be out on the first try, but..."

He sighs, braces one foot up against the mast, and wraps his hands over the leather to grasp the blade. "Here goes nothing."

Stede lets out a muffled groan as Izzy tugs.

"Shhh," Izzy scolds. "I think we got some of it moving. Deep breath for me."

His arms burn with the effort of it, but a decent amount of the sword pops out as Stede screams around his glove.

"Hang on," Izzy says, and forces himself to keep pulling.

Finally, the blade is free and Stede drops to the deck, Izzy's glove falling from his mouth.

"You care," Stede teases as Izzy moves him over to work on his wound. "Or you wouldn't be doing this."

"You really don't shut the fuck up, do you?" Izzy scoffs. "Should warn Ed to soundproof the captains' quarters."

"Why?" Stede asks, all deathly pale and what seems genuine uncertainty in his eyes.

"I presume at some point you'll end up in bed with him," Izzy says awkwardly as he grabs the roll of bandages. "And if you're this loud here...well..."

He blushes and keeps his eyes on the blood and torn skin of Stede's torso. There is zero reason to like so much as any little thing about Stede. He's ruined what little Izzy had in his life.

Stede's hand touches his thigh, close as he leans past Stede to snag the bandages threatening to roll away with each sway of the ship.

"Don't," Izzy says, but there's no heat behind it this time. He's tired. So incredibly tired. All he's done is try and try and try for Ed, to do what he wants, what he needs. Even this, that he needs Stede alive and well with him.

Stede's hand stays there as Izzy sits back on his heels, palm flattening over the top of his thigh.

"I've never," Stede hesitates. "I mean, there was Mary, but that wasn't...I didn't..."

"You did enough for some heirs and that was it," Izzy suggests. He's nearly done fixing Stede up, and then he can drop him off at the galley and get the fuck away from them.

"Mostly, yeah," Stede admits. "I did try other times for her, but...I wasn't much of a husband in any way to her."

"Do your best not to be that useless to Ed," Izzy instructs. "Not that Ed would care, but for my sake. Look after him."

"Izzy," Stede says softly, wincing as Izzy helps him move again to sit up against the mast. "I have an odd thing to ask. Or...never mind."

"Spit it out so I can leave," Izzy says.

He rests his head back against the mast as he sits by Stede, eyes closed.

"May I..."

He hears Stede's voice hesitate.

Then, Stede's lips at the corner of his frowning mouth. Delicate and soft and uncertain.

He opens his eyes and turns his head to Stede.

He looks for all the world like he's ready to run away. Izzy wants to laugh bitterly, to remind him that he's the one running away. Stede, on the other hand, has found his place.

His hand cradles Stede's face as he kisses him back. Closed mouth, because he's not certain Stede wants anything more, but he lets everything he's feeling flow into the energy of the kiss.

Stede's forehead rests against his as the kiss ends, both of their eyes closed.

When Izzy opens his eyes, Stede's flutter open too.

"You'll enjoy that better with Ed," Izzy says shakily as he moves his head back from Stede's. His plans for revenge against Stede have fallen away from him far more fluidly than he expected. He may not be happy with Stede, but he isn't wholly angry anymore either.

And he liked the kiss. More than he wants to admit to himself.

So be it then. He'll leave, and go somewhere other than the Republic of Pirates as he had planned.

He's not sure where else he'll go, but he'll find somewhere.

"I didn't hate it with you," Stede murmurs. "I don't know what to do with that."

"Good," Izzy says. "Because I didn't hate it, and I don't know what to do with it either."

"Are you still going to leave?" Stede asks quietly.

"Rules are rules, aren't they?" Izzy asks back. "You won. I'm banished."

"Surely there's some wiggle room."

Izzy looks at him in wonder. "No, that's not much of a pirate thing."

"Maybe it should be."

Izzy stands and retrieves his vest. Slips it back on, then does the same with his glove. In the soft worn leather are marks from Stede's teeth, deep enough they'll be a permanent engraving.

He goes back to Stede and offers him a hand up.

Wordlessly, he helps direct Stede to the galley, ignoring the questioning gaze he can feel from him.

"Izzy," Stede says, pausing before the galley doorway. "I'm the captain. I'm a captain, of this vessel. Let me-"

Izzy gently pushes him against the wall, and kisses him hard.

At first he can tell Stede has no idea what to do with his tongue, but after a second, it seems to register.

He pulls back after another second. "Let Ed know I'm leaving now, yeah?"

"Please don't," Stede replies. "I... don't know what to say about all of this. How to feel about y-"

"Don't spend another moment on that," Izzy interrupts. "Goodbye, Bonnet."

He leaves Stede there, and gathers what little he owns from his room. He'd put together some food from the galley earlier, hidden away when Roach wasn't nearby, and that joins his other bag on his shoulder.

A rope ladder gets him down to the dinghy he's lowered to the waves, and he tosses it hard so most of the ladder lands back on the deck.

Izzy gives one last look up to the rail of the deck. He knows Ed isn't there. And now, not even Stede. Not that he really expected either of them to actually come out and stop him.

Then he sighs, and sets to rowing away towards a barely visible stretch of sand and trees. At the very least, he'll have somewhere to rest his head for the night.

[lukadarling]

Fragment Friday

Figured I’d try this out to see if it’ll help me get in the swing of finishing stuff. A teeny drabble set in my WIP where everyone is human, nothing hurts, and Sam is a Good Dad TM 

When they finally stumble out of bed, Sam is on the couch with Frederick perched in his lap. The boy has both of his tennis shoes on and untied, watching intently as his father explains how to tie them. The two of them are lost in their own little world, prompting Darlin to lean against the door frame, watching the two of them quietly. 

“See, you just pull this through here.” Sam says gently, slowly walking through the steps. His voice is quiet as he explains each part in detail, making sure Fredrick is following along. The boy watches as his father’s hands move, tying a neat little bow with the laces of his bright red sneakers. The focused look on his little face is so cute, Darlin’ can’t help but crack a small smile. 

Once he’s done with Fredrick’s left shoe, he moves his hands to the laces on the right. “Now you try.” 

Tongue sticking out just slightly, Fredrick takes the laces in hand and makes a valiant attempt to run through the steps Sam had just shown him- only to immediately tie them into a knot instead. He pulls at it, trying to unravel it and try again, but just ends up tightening it more.

Big green eyes go teary as he looks up at his father, letting out a little whine as he yanks on them again. The fussing eases, though, when Sam steps in to fix the situation.

“Good try, but not quite. Do you need me to show you again?” He asks. There’s a soft smile on his face as he looks at his son. Pride and love shining brightly in his green eyes as he walks him through the steps again. 

Three more attempts are made before Fredrick has finally had enough. He drops the laces, crossing his arms over his chest with a huff. “I can’t do it.” He says, clearly frustrated. 

Sam just kisses him on the head. “It’s alright, baby. We’ll get there eventually.” He soothes. Once the other shoe is tied, he ruffles his hair before gently removing him from his lap and standing up. 

“Alrighty, now let’s go get our resident sleepin’ beauties out of bed before they make us late.” Sam almost runs into them in his rush, too busy looking down at Frederick to notice them in the doorway. A sheepish smile paints his face as he quickly takes a step back. 

“Well how about that, out of bed without being dragged for once. What’s the occasion, Darlin’?” Never one to miss an opportunity to rib them. He plants a quick kiss on their lips before they can answer, putting his hands on their waist. 

They give him a gentle push on the shoulder before leaning into him a bit. “Bed got cold. Was wondering where you ran off to.” They wrap their arms around his neck and lean in for another kiss, only to be interrupted by a small voice. 

“You didn’t see, right?” Frederick asks, eyes wide as he fiddles with the hem of his t-shirt. Clearly, he’s embarrassed at the thought of someone seeing him still learning, and it’s so goddamn cute they have to shove down a grin. 

There’s a moment where they consider telling him the truth, but something about the almost nervous look he gives them makes them reconsider. “See what?” They ask, chest warming a bit at the relieved look he shoots them before running off to presumably drag Bright out of bed. 

What he doesn’t know won’t hurt him, right?

[eleanorfenyxwrites]

WIP Wednesday

LQR & LJY - this boy finally gets the hug he deserves T_T

[Beginning]

A…hug? Jingyi’s mind goes utterly blank, nothing in it save the imagined weight and warmth of someone wrapping their arms tightly around him, pressing him close and letting him curl in. He sleeps like that sometimes, on his stomach with his face squished into his bed and his arms curled up between his chest and the mattress. It almost feels the same, if he’s sleepy enough. Now he walks forward until he can tentatively lean out far enough to wrap his arms around Hanguang-Jun’s neck - only to find himself gently maneuvered right into his lap to be squeezed tightly enough that it makes him want to cry all over again.

It feels even better than his vague memories of being held by his parents. Hanguang-Jun is warm and sturdy and Jingyi tentatively burrows in closer, all anger at the man forgotten in the onslaught of pleasant sensations buzzing under Jingyi’s skin.

“It is not a sin to be different,” Hanguang-Jun tells him when his sniffling has slowed down and he’s feeling pleasantly floaty, still cradled in Hanguang-Jun’s lap. Surrounded by soft white silk and the warmth of Hanguang-Jun’s arms, it’s difficult to remember why he was upset in the first place. “Your mind works in a way that makes it difficult to sit and learn like other children do. This does not make you a bad child.”

Jingyi sniffles and scrubs his sleeve under his drippy nose despite knowing the rule to stay neat and clean, and he thinks to himself that he must still be a bad child since he breaks so many rules even when he knows them. But he doesn’t want to contradict Hanguang-Jun, doesn’t want to argue in case it means he’ll stop getting his hug, so he just nods and says nothing instead. Saying nothing is usually safer, especially in situations he hasn’t ever had to be in before.

Hanguang-Jun stays silent after that, and Jingyi falls asleep to the sound of quiet breathing and wind and rustling grass, the occasional creak of bamboo, the soft thumping of the rabbits hopping around them. It’s peaceful, and Jingyi dreams that this is his life, not Lan Yuan’s. He dreams that he gets to be the one with such a kind father, with rabbits for friends, with reassurance whenever he needs it that he’s good, that he can do good things. It’s a wonderful dream, and when Jingyi is shaken gently awake he feels something empty open up in his chest to have lost it.

Lan-xiansheng is back for him, so Jingyi clambers out of Hanguang-Jun’s lap to offer him a bow, unable to quite meet the man’s eyes. “This humble disciple thanks Hanguang-Jun,” he mumbles, cheeks and ears and eyes burning. This time he leaves with Lan-xiansheng, buckets in hand and his head still down as he trails along behind. They return to the main complex, down out of the back hills Jingyi hadn’t really needed to go to in the first place for his assignment. Lan-xiansheng stops long enough for him to squat by a stream and fill his buckets as far as he can; they’re heavy on the way back, and some water sloshes out over the rims as he walks, but they make it back to the Yashi without too much incident.

Jingyi places the buckets carefully where they go, and then kneels in front of Lan-xiansheng’s desk to hear the next part of his punishment. For all that Hanguang-Jun had said he’s not a bad child, everyone else who knows him better knows that’s not true - including Lan-xiansheng, who’s still the one actually in charge of his discipline.

[Previous] / [Next]

[nellie-elizabeth]

The Handmaid's Tale: Safe (5x10)

This season happened so fast!

Cons:

I'm a little confused about Nick and Tuello. Basically, Nick agrees to turn spy for the Americans, because he knows that Gilead is trying to punish/kill June? But basically he connects with Tuello in exchange for a promise that Tuello will do everything he can to keep June safe... but like... wasn't that already a guaranteed outcome from the Americans? They weren't about to let Gilead kill June if they could help it, so what is Nick actually getting out of this? Is he planning on eventually getting the hell out of there, and joining June? I get it, that learning that June is in danger would frighten him, but it seems he's changing his mind and doing this crazy risky thing, all for a very nebulous return.

I was a little annoyed with Luke and June and Nichole fleeing and Moira not coming with them. We have so little insight into what Moira's life is these days, other than as a co-parent to Nichole, a real part of their nuclear family. So, especially since Luke was planning on turning himself in so his family could get away... why not send Moira along too? What is the point of her staying there in Canada, when she too is an American refugee that the Canadian people don't want anymore? And then there's just the unnecessary trickery and drama of Luke not communicating with his wife about staying behind. That kind of sucked.

In fact, just to tie a neat little bow on the Luke and June situation this season... they tried so hard to make me feel it. To get me wrapped up in the true love romance of these two spouses who had been unjustly separated and then reunited and worked through their issues to form a united front. And I... just can't get there! It's not that I think they have negative chemistry or that I see nothing compelling about June and Luke as a romantic pairing. It just doesn't click for me the way I can tell they want it to. Luke killing a man to protect June is, I think, supposed to be this sign that he's willing to join her in the intensity of her experience, that he "gets it" now in a way he didn't before. To me, it felt tacked on and insufficient. I just don't love watching the two of them together. I don't hate it, but I don't love it either.

Pros:

Janine getting to tell Mrs. Putnam - now Mrs. Lawrence - that she hates her was honestly enormously satisfying. It's a nice echo to the way June spoke to Serena. There can be kindness, there can be compromise, there can be moments of strained affinity, but at the end of the day, the Commanders and their Wives are rapists, they abuse and control the women who are forced to live in their homes and bear children and then have those children taken from them. It's always nice when a character gets to stand up and say that nice and loud and proud, lest we be fooled into thinking there's any real friendship going on here. We don't know Janine's fate yet, we see her being driven off, at Commander Lawrence's insistence, and against Aunt Lydia's protests.

I loved the moment where Janine found out about June being hurt. You could see her waking up, you could see that spark of defiance coming back into her after so long of playing docile with Aunt Lydia. Even for the chance to maybe be around her daughter in this very limited way, she can't just sit back and take it, not when she hears that June is under attack from the very place that has Janine under its thumb.

This episode really had a "fuck around and find out" flavor to it. You've got Janine standing up to Naomi, and you've also got Nick punching Lawrence in the face in front of a whole crowd of people. You've got Tuello helping June and Luke to get out of danger in Canada. Multiple characters who have had to toe the line, play the middle, and have now pretty firmly declared their allegiance. Nick isn't the good little obedient Commander. Janine isn't the docile little Handmaid. Luke is making his play, allowing himself to be arrested in order to keep his family safe. There's nothing half-measure left on the board, and for that I am grateful!

Despite my doubts about Nick's decisions this episode, I've gotta say, I did really love that final scene with his wife. "A good man wouldn't leave his pregnant wife every time his girlfriend calls." Like, get it, Rose, that was a great line. And it's so true. Nick can't fully commit to his life in Gilead when he is still so entangled with June. He loves her so much, it's a frightening thing. It's a life-ruining thing. That's the good shit; I'm still rooting for them against all odds.

Commander Lawrence, as I keep saying, is extremely interesting! Because we know he's conflicted, we know he's trying to make Gilead better, yadda yadda, but at the same time, he's never going to admit his full culpability. As he tells Nick, it wasn't his decision to put a hit out on June. And that's all well and good, but he didn't fight against it. And he had Janine sent away, and he married Naomi, and he had Nick locked up, and maybe he feels guilty forever and ever about it all but that doesn't change the fact that he's going along with it. That he'd sacrifice June and he'd sacrifice Nick and he'd sacrifice Janine. What does he care? What does it matter if he cares?

I knew Serena was going to be on the train. I knew it the second I realized Luke wasn't coming. I felt so smart when the baby started crying and it was Serena and Noah. But also this is such a cool setup for the sixth and final season of this show. After all the back and forth, all the power imbalances, all the times in which they've had control over one another in all sorts of different ways, they are made equal by circumstances at last. On a train, alone with a young child, heading off into the unknown to escape those who would seek to hurt them. Are they going to remain allies as they try to settle into a new normal? Are they going to turn on each other, and how? I for one cannot wait to find out!

So that's a wrap on season five. Just one more season of this show before we get our final goodbyes, and I hope we get some answers as to how the world might start to equalize, what the future is for Gilead, and America, and Canada, and all of world politics, for that matter. For those who have read the books, we know from the ending that Gilead doesn't stick around forever, but we also don't know the exact mechanism by which it falls... maybe we'll get to find out?

8/10

[whyamistillwatchingtheseshows]

Am I the only one wondering how many details Vegas actually gave Porsche? So, if he said to Vegas something like “you break his heart…” then Porsche does know to some extent that this is a “matters of the heart” situation?

That’s enough for a bleeding heart like Porsche (and a Porsche who is far gone in love) to think okay fine go see him. He’s here and the rest is up to you. Granted, it looks indifferent to any kind of pain Pete is going through…it’d make sense if Porsche factors in something truly genuine from Vegas. Which is still hard to tell in any circumstance? Though, Pete came back throughly broken but Porsche probably recognizes Pete will take matters into his own hands, if it came to it, because Pete is now back with his weapons, he’s armed. However, Porsche doesn’t really know how deep this has gone?

I want to be like oh it’s such a bad idea to let Pete anywhere near Vegas or the other way around I should say, but a part of me wants to be like maybe Pete had a thought, just an inkling, about how much easier it’d be if Vegas just came to him? As much as he’d fight against that….and a part of me also wants to be like ooh it’s about time Porsche gets angry over this game with his parents’ death? Like yeah play the game baby, it’s about time. Sure would’ve been a hell of a lot easier to just confront Korn over the soup? Just saying, but why not draw out the plan…get evidence I suppose? The only way I say it’s easier is because Kinn would shoot Chan on sight if anything got to that point over the soup, but do I think he’d hesitate at Dad, yes…briefly because ironically, Kinn has been acting as a bodyguard too (for awhile now). Then over soup it’d be like a what the hell just happened? Ironically, Porsche would probably stop him for shooting his Dad, saying something about i want information from mister I’m lying through my teeth. Anyway, that’s not what happens…

Keep thinking that Porsche’s game plan should end with that murder tango dismantling the system Korn and Kan have between the family. It should end the divide, completely deviating from a minor detail and you know what I’m talking about. But yes, deviates from that so an unrelated Porsche (with Vegas now on their side) helps dismantle the divide. Though, somehow “the divide” is kept, so there is still a major and minor family house which aim to work out different criminal things? But Kinn and Vegas are not against each other…thus, technically Pete still chooses the minor family….so in a sense, the Queens get to live with Kings…?

Don’t mind me, this is just rambling and wondering what they could possibly have in the final episode. Personally, as someone had said, “I don’t want it wrapped in a neat bow…” how can they? Can they? And that’s just not us saying we don’t want it to end, okay it’s part of it but really, how does this get neatly wrapped in a bow that comes with a firm no cliffhanger ending?

[nohrianseneschal]

Something Borrowed ch. 25 excerpted WIP

Corrin had spent the days leading up to the hearing floating. Like driftwood, aimless yet forever moving. Each day was like one wave after another, cresting until she was soaked and battered. Some mornings, the baby would pull her out of her stupor and force her to retch with her head bowed low into the toilet. The queasiness is the worst part, but somehow she finds a way to get through it. 

The morning of the hearing, she’s surprised to see Leo already waiting for them by the elevator. He is the embodiment of professionalism in his business formal suit — a sleek charcoal compared to the graphite black of Xander’s. That morning, her stylist had chosen a crepe lavallière blouse, contrasted by a black jacket and pencil skirt to match her husband. Her hair is likewise tied up, pulled into a neat and modest bun so she might appear more serious and supportive. 

“Like Jackie Kennedy,” Elise had cooed while Corrin got dressed. She was learning about American politics in the 60s for her class, and she used every opportunity to mention parts of that unit which she liked. 

Corrin had smiled at the comparison, but a part of her was slightly disquieted by it as well. Famous figures of history rarely lived a life of peace or happiness. They suffered losses; buckled beneath the weight of the world. Corrin didn’t want to be another Jackie Kennedy.

Though the brothers speak to each other in their usual, clipped manner, Corrin can sense some tension curdling the air between them. Leo’s eyes follow his brother with an earnestness she had never seen before, and Xander’s brows are more furrowed than usual. They haven’t talked since Leo’s confession.

“He thinks you’re angry with him,” she had told him one evening. They were in bed, and neither of them could sleep.

At the time, Xander didn’t say anything at first. He merely stared at the ceiling above them, his fingers absentmindedly stroking the curve of her back. 

“Maybe this is too much,” he said eventually. “Maybe I should ask him to step down — at least, until he’s ready.”

She didn’t say anything, mostly because she finds it difficult to question her husband’s judgment. But a part of her also knows that such news would only make things worse. Now that days have passed, she wonders if their prolonged estrangement is actually making things worse. With Xander unwilling to broach the topic and ask Leo to step down, Leo is left to speculate on the reasons for his brother’s evasiveness, and his imagination runs wild with possibilities.

For now, all is brushed under the rug. Both men will put forward their best selves, and Corrin will stand by Xander, hoping that the hearing will go well not just for him but for the company. After all, as Camilla had reminded her, she has her own shares to worry about now.

On their way to the hearing, the three of them sit in the town car, lost in their own thoughts. Corrin tries to distract herself with the moving scenery beyond her window, keeping track of the numbered streets as they flit by. The warm feel of Xander’s hand wrapping around hers yanks her back to the present. She perks up, turning to him in her confusion.

He doesn’t say anything, but his glance points to her lap. There, she sees that she had been fidgeting with the seam of her skirt, almost fraying it in her nervousness.

“Are you alright?” he asks, almost whispering.

Corrin laughs at the irony of their situation. “I should be asking you that,” she says. She gives her real answer by threading her fingers through his, locking their hands in a tender hold so he might feel more reassured. 

The truth is, Corrin is barely keeping it together. She’s confused and a little lost. Her father’s ashes sit in an urn in their penthouse, and she knows she has to travel and fulfill his final wishes. But the baby, the hearing, her in-laws having problems of their own… She almost wishes she could go back to the cul-de-sac. Things were simpler then. She had a mother who tended to her wounds (emotional and physical), and a quiet home away from the deafening noise of the city. 

Perhaps when Elise graduates high school, she thinks, they can move back. Corrin doesn’t need a mansion or a penthouse. She needs a place to call home, and some privacy to raise her baby. Now that people know she’s pregnant, her fans have been relentless. Benny had even stopped a stalker from assailing her while she was out shopping with Camilla. 

As if reading her mind, Xander returns her gesture by squeezing her hand. “It’ll be over soon,” he murmurs. 

Across from them, Leo pretends to be busy with his tablet. He’s going over the brief and some last-minute details for the opening remarks. But Corrin knows he’s just as terrified as she is. Only Xander seems to be genuinely unfazed. Perhaps he’s used to it, or perhaps Garon had hardened him for this sort of life. Still, familiar as it is, Corrin knows Xander would do much better in a humble home with her, away from governmental hearings and SEC trials.