#use the second draft for making things Less obvious

[isfjmel-phleg]

Truth or Dare: In one of the scenes I've written in this chapter, Odren interrogates Tamett about what Josiah has been doing and where he's been going when he was supposed to be having fencing lessons. Tamett doesn't know and can only provide some vague observations. Josiah has in fact been stealing some leisure time for reading and snacks, and he's been doing it in his mother's old rooms, partially because that's a part of the palace where he's certain no one will find him, since they've been closed up since her death, and partially because there's a comfort in being back in those rooms. He doesn't have to be a flawless overachiever there. It's where he used to go wherever he was upset and needed reassurance. He misses who he was when he used to do that. And he's having to stage a deception and sneak around in order to have that at all.

Knot-Tying: So to get from Tamett finds out that he and Josiah are being sent to Hollingham -> they arrive at school?

News of school

Tamett has some kind of interaction with his parents and sisters about this development.

Tamett is drafted to spy on Josiah via detailed letters to "Uncle Adrend" (my original thought was to have Odren be the one to ask this of him, but it would be less obvious if it were someone else, like Tamett's uncle the Duke, whom Odren has put up to this--and it would make more sense to have a relative--not his parents, because we need to trust them--ask this of him).

Preparations for the trip, including maybe some interactions with Bollingfurt, Josiah's arch-nemesis, whom Tamett likes, mostly because Josiah hates him so much. Bollingfurt knows some things--including what exactly happened at that luncheon, because he was involved in it!--that Josiah really doesn't want Tamett to know, and we almost learn them but Josiah manages to prevent it.

Introduction to Josiah's bodyguard Raskvist, who happens to be Tamett's uncle by marriage: who is he, how do the boys feel about him, how does he affect this story.

The sendoff: contrast of how Tamett's parents are handling sending their young son practically on his own to a foreign country with how Odren is handling it (at least in public--what this man does the second he's alone on the train home is between him and God, probably).

The voyage: what do these boys do as soon as they're alone together? How do the tensions build? Josiah can't do too much because he's sick the entire trip. So what's Tamett up to in the meantime?

The landing: this is where the short story "Incognito" would fit, but we're not in Josiah's POV this early in the story, so what are Tamett's first impressions of Corege and how does the train trip to Hollingham go?

The boys arrive at Hollingham late at night, are shown to their rooms, and this would lead in to the events of "Tamett and Elystan."

A lot of the question here is how much of this is actually worth showing, because it could just slow the pace way down. I'm still struggling with giving Tamett a straightforward and specific motivation instead of just letting the plot happen to him, so that needs to be taken into account. There's not a lot in his life that he has much power over, but letting him remain passive makes him a dull character, especially if we're in his POV. So what might he do to try to take back some kind of control?

Tree-Climbing: First round was 336 words, second was 410, and the last was 124 because I didn't go the full ten minutes, because I finished the scene. And by "finished" I mean slammed down the most basic and poorly written version of what needed to happen so that I could complete the draft of this chapter. From here on, I can work on editing, which I much prefer. And this chapter is going to need a lot of editing.

Star-Gazing: Typed the above in the dark, accompanied by the soothing sounds of nature (vaccuming, thumping, and men's voices coming through the wall from the neighboring apartment).

Camp Tolkien: Day 9

Welcome to another day at Camp Tolkien!

Our two-week summer camp is a chance for you to work on the project of your choice in the company of other writers. No matter which stage of the process you’re in–brainstorming, outlining, drafting, revising–Camp Tolkien’s activities are here to help you make progress. Bring along your projects, and have fun!

Today’s four activities are listed below. Choose whichever one you wish–choose more than one if you want to.

Truth or Dare: Talk about a secret from a character's past OR tell us about something they're terrified to do.

Knot-tying: Write down two things that happen in your story, then make a list of at least five intermediate steps that happen between those scenes.

Tree Climbing: Complete three ten-minute writing sprints, aiming for a higher wordcount each time.

Stargazing: Work on your project in the dark, using only candlelight or flashlight (or screen light) for illumination.

When you’re finished, reblog or reply to this post, telling us how it went, and/or sharing what you wrote for the day.

So glad to have you all at camp! Have fun, go forth, and create!

[juliet-017]

Incommensurate - T.R.

Tom Riddle x fem!reader

Minors DNI!!

Warnings: dubcon (consensual sex under imperious curse), begging, unprotected p in v(? Kinda? Tom casts a spell so?), cream pie, tit play, pussy slapping, degradation, slight spanking

Synopsis: As Tom starts to feel a slip in control he becomes harsher with you, more distant as well. It's bloody tortuous, the growing distance and silence between you both driving you crazy. Making you bring up a proposition that you wouldn't have thought of prior.

A/n: yeah so.. here's this instead of that mattheo work (you guys can thank my wife @viperify for that). Side note, I might js get rid of my current wips on my nav as well so I feel less tied down?? Idk but I have so many old drafts I need to get through. Anyways enjoy!!

w/c: ~1.5k

Tom liked control, it was obvious from the way he bossed his mates around, not even scared that they'd retaliate or leave. It was.. fascinating to say the least. You pondered on whether it was because of his time at the orphanage in his formative years, he didn't speak of it much but you presumed that being a charge there wouldn't be anything close to fun.

You'd still give him shit, teasing him for being so bossy at times. A few times when you two had sex you'd fight your way on top for a few seconds before he'd roughly push you off and take to fucking you doggy style, your face shoved into his bed.

Normally things were fine, he'd take your taunts in stride, fucking your attitude out of you till your throat was raw from either screaming or being used.

**

You've noticed how he's been acting.. off lately. Snapping more, not taking kindly to anyone mouthing off. Not even the first years could escape his wrath.

He wasn't vulnerable so asking him right out wouldn't do anything in your favor. Observing him overworking himself, skipping meals as a result, and falling back into old habits.

You start slowly, trying to give him massages or attempting to pull him into bed. When none of it works you decide to just be blunt.

“Tom? What's wrong?” You ask from your perch on his bed, lying down as he studies.

“Nothing. Why.” He responds coolly, barely sparing you a glance. Hunched over, elbows on his desk as he runs his fingers through his hair.

“You're tense.”

“I always am.”

“Not this tense.”

He scoffs, finally looking over at you. “What do you want?”

“The truth. Or I'm going to sleep in my room tonight.”

You both know it's an empty threat, but Tom gives in. “You're too good for me.”

You freeze, trying to read his expression, grasping for a response.

“You can't leave me, you know.”

“Yeah… I know.” You murmur, sitting up and debating on approaching him. “M’yours, Tom.”

“Hm, you think your words matter? Fascinating” He scoffs, rolling his eyes before looking back at the open book at his desk.

It's unfair how wet his words made you. Especially when they're degrading.

You wait a second before getting up, leaning up against his desk and toying with his wand.

“Just what do you think-” He starts harshly, reaching out to take his wand back before you leap away.

“Remember that one night, where you mentioned wanting me to just be even more.. submissive?” You hum, raising a brow.

“How could I not? You were even more of a fucking brat afterwards.”

You grin, still playing with his wand and waiting for him to get the hint. And oh the rush that goes through when he does, moving quickly and towering over you, yanking his wand out of your hold. “And just how are we going to go about that, hm? Never can get you fucked out enough to just go along with it anyways.” He mutters, backing you into a wall, lifting your chin up with this wand.

Your stomach flips as you look up at him, hesitating before continuing. You know you've seen him cast it before so.. what's the big deal, right?

“The imperious curse.” You reply quickly, spatting the words out before giving yourself a second to think. You watch his reaction, studying

He smirks, and you can’t help but melt. “You sure? You know I won't relinquish it every five seconds to check on you, right?”

You nod. “I know. Just.. same rules as usual, m’kay?”

He nods, running the wand down your body, watching your face. “Ready?”

“Uhuh..” You nod, looking up at him, feeling his wand press to your temple.

Before you know it you feel otherworldly, listening to his simple hypnotic commands. Opening your eyes and kneeling like he commands. It shouldn't make you even wetter but it does.

Kneeling whilst undoing your shirt, your bra. Your mind foggy as you finish stripping. He strips too, finally removing his boxers before hold an open palm in front of you. “Spit.” He instructs smoothly, catching your saliva, using it to stroke himself, becoming even harder. “Open.”

You comply, opening your mouth, letting him find refuge in your mouth. He almost immediately gives you all of him, not even giving you a second to adjust, mindlessly drooling around his cock. Grasping your hair he thrusts, allowing you to go slack jawed as you moan around him.

He isn't sure if it's out of pleasure or defiance, but he ignored it, focusing on his release. Tom reminds himself that you agreed to it when he came so deep inside your throat that you had no choice but to swallow.

Pulling out of your mouth slowly, Tom watchs himself leave you with a pop, your eyes glassy and tearful. Only making him even harder than before. Leaning against the wall as he catches his breath. “Such a good little thing.” He praises quietly, patting your head before brushing your hair back as he looks down at you.

He steps out of the way, almost admiring you. “Crawl over to the bed.” He instructs softly, your body moving without a second thought.

You make your way over to the bed, getting on all fours whilst Tom walks around it. The silence painful, listening to Tom as he ends up behind you, squeezing your ass before landing a sharp slap.

Whining you look over your shoulder, feeling him grab your hips and pull, causing you to lay mostly flat save for your hips holding your ass slightly up.

“Beg for it.” He hums, his voice tantalizing whilst his shadow looms over you. “C’mon be a good girl and beg straight from the heart.”

“Please Tom, I need you.” You whine, the words leaving you effortlessly. “I'll always need you, please.”

He ruts into you with one deep thrust, groaning. “Such a good fucking slut, so tight f’me.” He groans, slapping your ass again as he thrusts, leaning over you to pin your wrists to the bed. “My favorite little fucktoy.”

You moan loudly, feeling him hit deeper than ever, hitting your cervix. The bit of your coherent mind grasps the concept that it'll be bruised by morning, but you can't bring yourself to care.

“Fucking love your pussy.” He groans, gripping your wrists even tighter as if fighting to ground himself, his thrust growing messier as his manicured nails dig into you like some animal. “C’mon be loud.” He encourages you, squeezing once more.

“Mm Tom,” you gasp, head to the side as you try to rut your hips. “So.. fuck, so deep.” You moan, practically screaming, the curse not letting you even try to muffle it. Your face heats in shame.

“That's it, such a good girl, letting everyone know how good I fuck you.” Freeing your wrists he wraps an arm around your waist, causing you to kneel as he still thrusts in and out of you, his free hand reaching down to play with your clit. Heat forms in your lower stomach at that, only making you more desperate.

His one hand now slides up to play with your tits, your moaning and arousal only seeming to turn him on even more. “Fuck, you're close aren't you? I can feel it, you and your greedy little cunt.” He growls into your ear, slapping your clit and causing a shot of pleasure to run through you. He gives you another slap, a sort of warning. “Answer me unless you want me to stop, that is.”

“Yes’sir.” You whimper, nodding. “I'm close.” You moan, trying to match his pace but deciding it best to go limp, allowing him to use you like the doll you are.

Lost in a bliss you barely hear his command, too dazed to even fully comprehend. “Cum for me.”

You weren't prepared for the earth shattering orgasm that wrecks your body, feeling Tom finish deep inside of you, feeling him coat your cervix you let out a small squeal.

Laying you down, Tom slowly pulls out. You hear him mumble something, the curse lifting as you look around in slight shock.

Tom hushes you immediately, gently pulling you into his hold. “You okay?” He murmurs, pulling your head against his chest and casting a charm to clean the both of you. You presume the other is a contraceptive. “It wasn't too much, was it?”

Nodding you hum, too dumbed out to even think of how to word it. “Nice. It was nice letting go for once.” You murmur, lifting your gaze up. “You liked it too, right?”

Tom lets out a warm chuckle, a rare commodity. “Course I did, got to have you all dumbed out on my cock, not able to mouth off.” He mutters, giving your hair a light tug as he takes to playing with it. “But I don't want to make it a common thing, if you do want to do it again that is.” He hums.

“Course I do.” You hum before the scent of sandalwood alongside Tom’s warmth, lulls you off to sleep.

[spacequokka]

GOT7 Turn Ons & Kinks

I’m so GOT7 coded rn. Here I go again interpreting birth charts for my own silly pleasure. Take it with a pinch of salt, ahgases. The way this sat in my drafts for over a year yet only took about an hour to finish. I refused to change the pics for the next comeback so here ya go.

Mark || Venus: Leo, Mars: Libra || Turn On: Praise (Receiving)

He’s twinning with Yeosang in that he just wants to hear he’s making you feel good. Like seriously, let him know when he’s hitting the right spot or tell him no one else is as good as he is. Might also dish it right back because he has that kinda vibe. Can be broody if he feels like you’re not matching his level of intensity as far as the relationship goes, which can be cured with some praise and appreciation.

Jaebeom || Venus: Capricorn, Mars: Capricorn || Kink: Cockwarming

They say stability and trustworthiness are sexy, and Jay B took that personally. He wants to impress you with his endless cool and mature vibes, so when you’re tired of boys, he can be your man. He’s a romantic, so you can expect loads of sweet, traditional gestures. Okay, but what about the Jay B who sang Switch It Up? Read the lyrics. He told us what he likes. So bold. Somewhat traditional, with a bit of spice here and there. After seeing him read mild tame thirst tweets, I truly believe he’d hesitate to try kinky things like choking or spanking, like he just wants to be inside you and hold you close. The promise of the intimacy alone is enough to have him dragging you to bed.

Jackson || Venus: Aries, Mars: Pisces || Kink: Daddy 

If you know me even a little bit you knew this was coming. My GAWD the amount of love and care that seeps from this man’s pores is fucking amazing. He lives to care for and spoil you like no other, wanting to make sure you have everything you could ever need or want. And that translates to his bedroom. Help? This freaky ball of energy is gonna wear you tf out. He legit doesn’t give a fuck how many times you’ve cum, he needs more. Will strive to leave you hoarse from calling him daddy just because he loves to hear you say it. I could write a fucking essay on this istg.

Jinyoung || Venus: Scorpio, Mars: Cancer || Kink: Bondage

Another hill I’ll die on. A king in the streets and a control freak in the sheets. Just the thought of tying you down to his bed is enough to get him going. Loves to tease and torture you until you’re begging to be let go or fucked hard. Wanna be a brat? Face down and ass up with your arms secured behind your back. Being inside you is just a bonus at that point. Go ahead and struggle, it’s cute to him. You’ll be crying with relief when he finally gets inside you.

Youngjae || Venus: Leo, Mars: Leo || Turn On: Collaring (Receiving)

“Mars in Leo natives enjoy sex more than most”--say less. So Jae’s freaky af and I will hear none of this pure cinnamon roll slander. Honestly he’s probably as bad as Jay B. So what does this bub like? A collar. Hear me out. Collaring is one of the freakiest things you can do to someone while also showing them how much you care/love them. He just wants to be yours--mind, body, and soul. In return, you get his unconditional love and unwavering loyalty. He doesn’t mind you taking the lead in bed because he trusts you and your judgment. You touching/pulling on his collar makes all the blood in his body rush down south and it doesn’t take long for him to start begging you to ride him.

BamBam || Venus: Taurus, Mars: Virgo || Turn On: Nipple Play (Giving)

After deeming him a boobie lover, I can’t help but see him as a motor boatin’ son of a bitch. Lives to put his face near your chest and play with it. In bed you can bet he’ll be kissing and biting on your nips until you beg him to stop. Once you start that up, he’s eager to get inside of you just to continue doing it so he can feel you squeeze the life outta his dick.

Yugyeom || Venus: Capricorn, Mars: Capricorn || Kink: Thigh Riding

Lemme be Captain Obvious for a few seconds. You belong on his thigh. He knows it. You know it. So why aren’t you on it? While he loves any form of teasing you, watching you get all worked up to the point of ruining his pants is an experience he can’t live without. It’s lowkey fascinating that it feels that good for you and he barely has to do anything other than force you to keep moving once you reach that peak. His favorite part is watching your cute little face scrunch up as you shiver in his arms. Then he’ll tease you about it while pulling your legs around his waist and unzipping his pants...

[hoshinasblade]

pairing: hoshina soshiro x reader // trigger warning: death (now i dont know if i should still make it as an x reader drabble because well, death)

try as he might, hoshina soshiro just couldn't think that meeting you was a mistake.

he was used to almost always getting the shorter end of the stick in life. though admittedly more privileged than the majority, hoshina will be a hypocrite if he says that he is the best at anything he likes doing - from a very young age he had reconciled in his mind the fact that he is forever going to arrive second in things: just the number two, never the one at the top. i will never be like my perfect older brother, he used to tell himself.

when you came to hoshina's life, he was still a rookie vice-captain who was trying to find his footing in leadership. he was not planning on being in a relationship at all - much less dating someone from the same institution - but love is a difficult opponent to win against, he supposes. and so he let himself fall for you - hard and fast and madly.

you asked him one time why he chose you, out of all the women and men who showed interest at him in and out of the defense force. "i guess it's cause i can be who i am when i'm with you. like i don't have to prove anything." because it's true - with you hoshina soshiro is neither the next in command of the third division nor he is the inferior brother - with you he is just hoshina soshiro, the man.

but being a man does not make anyone a savior. not at all.

there were no last words even as he rewinds the scene on his mind from years ago. he did not have the time to administer first aid anymore and probably at his subconscious he knew it would have been worthless anyway, so after a particularly violent kaiju had use its long, sharp claws to tear your suit and stab on your torso, hoshina watched you bleed to death. he barked orders - begged, even - for the medical team to hurry to your location, wishing and praying that time would stand still so that maybe you would have more moments with him before he loses you.

on your last breath you only smiled at him, cradled in his trembling arms.

when kafka said captain ashiro's first name despite the obvious implications, hoshina had an inkling of what is going on - he had a hunch that there is some history behind the two but he dared not ask. it was not his business, he should not care. but whenever he sees the cadet throw the commander a glimpse, hoshina's memories seem to unreel. he used to know how that feels - love.

"you shouldn't get too close to the rest of the other officers", he told kafka when hoshina caught him at 1 am still buried in books, studying. "in this line of work, something could happen to any one of them at anytime," he added before walking away, not bothering to wait for kafka to respond.

anyway apparently i have 500 followers now but i dont know what to do so i just drafted this short one while im waiting for sleep to come hehe, it's nothing much and i got the whole thing from literally two sentences said by this bowl cut man, hope you guys like it

[stripedstarsblueflags]

i didn't win the wheel: episode 1

(if anyone knows how to make gifs 🥺 please help me out until then it's shitty screenshot summer)

Alex: "I'm gonna say... 400,000."

Logan: "I'm gonna say 430,000”

ok cool let's introduce the WHOLE DYNAMIC of this episode in one still, shall we? alex is looking directly into the camera pondering the shit out of this question, and *this is logan's face*. look at that. look at that fucking smirk. alex is like "you know what? i'm going to get this question right" and logan is like "you know what? i'm gonna use the oldest trick in the pick-a-number-1-through-10 book and i'm gonna WATCH you get annoyed with me and i'm gonna love every second of it." he knows what he's doing

Alex: "Oh, you're playing that game, are you? Just gonna go a bit above?"

Logan: *smoothest fucking wink i've ever seen* *the fucking TONGUE CLICK*

ok WHAT. how am i supposed to handle this i– let's start with the fact that even before logan gave his answer he's leaning back, head cocked, gazing at alex ✨like that✨ practically about to do the arm-around-the-shoulder-thing **before** because he knows exactly how alex is going to react. that fucking wink he had that planned from the beginning. even before alex phrased it like "oh, you're playing that game, are you?" which WOAH BRAT TAMER ALEX DID NOT SEE THAT COMING and jesus christ i feel like i'm intruding on something. this doesn't even feel like ao3 this feels like the beginning of a shit 2k word wattpad draft but no this actually happened

Alex (after guessing exactly 1 less than Logan's and getting it right): "Yes!"

Logan (sunshine smile): "You're a donut..."

okay so apparently alex’s reaction to being called a donut 🍩 is that smile and leaning into logan for the first time in the video and giggling and idk fucking blushing like what kind of degradation kink is this... like i'm sorry i love you landoscar but "you freaking muppet! you got all the hangers!" will need to step aside for whatever is going on here

need i remind you this is ALEX'S reaction to kph. logan brought the k in there first guys leave your what the fuck is a kilometer bit behind ok!!! (i'll find this eventually but logan answering that question on "wrong answers only" with "i'm gonna answer this correctly. it's 1.6 to a mile" is the hottest thing i've ever seen)

aaaaaand here we go end of the video. DO I NEED TO DO A SIDE BY SIDE COMPARISON OR WHAT actually–

alright that's the best you're gonna get with preview. but LET'S BREAK IT DOWN. so we go from logan doing literally all of the talking, all of the video introduction and explaining the activity, and alex even with his whole "oooh ray of sunshine" image clearly thinks this is stupid, he even makes little sarcastic hand gestures when logan describes it. and even right in the beginning he's not looking at the camera he looks like an adhd kid sat next to the window (come on alex look alive). but THREE MINUTES of an admittedly stupid game he's done a total 180, smiling and laughing and literally that wasn't that funny but now i'm gonna laugh because you're the one who said it and leaning in to read the cards for the first time and- well logan is mostly unchanged. from the first question he decided his main task for this video was literally just to check out his teammate at point blank range with his emotions very very clear on his face (alex is OBLIVIOUS af but then again he did pull out the "oh you're playing that game are you?" and i was NOT ready for that so who knows)

ok so episode 1 is very much a warmup for the rest of the series i know that. obviously this isn't the "reaching stratospheric levels of homoeroticism that actually leave a wake of collateral damage to all compulsory heterosexuality in a 50 m radius" as charlos but holy shit it's a lot more obvious than i thought!!!

episode 2

[your-unfriendlyghost]

Don’t Think Twice, It’s Alright

Steviepop Tex AU pt. 2

I think I’m gonna put it up on Ao3 as a second chapter to the previous one, although idk how many there will be. It’s not like a very outlined or plot heavy fic- I think it’s gonna be more like a series of vignettes (sorta like the structure of the book Tex, come to think of it lol)

 Anyhow, in this one Tex thinks about dropping outta school. Soda tries to find a way to stop him.

-

 It is about two months after Mason left, and Pop is back to the rodeos. Tex isn’t surprised, not really. And maybe he’s not completely disappointed, either. There’s more space in the house now. 

  But it’s quieter, too.

  “It’s no big deal. He’s left before,” Tex explains, brushing Casanova, one of the horses, with an old blade. 

  Sodapop Curtis frowns. “Right, but it’s just you. …Alone. You know you can always stay with us again, right?” Tex had stayed at Soda’s place for the weekend a few weeks ago, but that was only because he’d forgotten to pay the heat bill. 

  Tex shrugs. “Hey, I mean, I still got Johnny,” he says, brushing a dust cloud off the horse. “I don’t needa bug y’all, ‘specially now that the heat’s been paid. I can always sneak into Johnny’s.”

  “Johnny…right,” Soda says, eyes darkening briefly.

  “You know Johnny?”

  “Naw. Just…used to know a guy named Johnny. Different Johnny. It’s nothing,” Soda says. He undoes the cinch on the saddle with a click, and fumbles with it for a minute before buckling it back on its hook. “But you’re just…home alone, then. Other than your buddy,” he repeats.

  Tex blinks, wondering what it is that’s got Soda so worried. “I mean, yeah, more or less. Ain’t nothin’ to be done ‘bout it unless I wanna end up in the system. But y’know, I’m sweet sixteen in a week, and I reckon then I can drop out and work full time, and I’ll be okay, y’know?” he explains.

  Soda purses his lips. He doesn’t tell him not to drop out like most grown ups have, which Tex figures is on account of the fact that Soda dropped out of school at sixteen too. He told Tex about that once, but everytime someone else mentions it, he tells some joke about being stupid and changes the subject fast. So it’s pretty obvious Soda’s not proud of it.

  Instead of arguing, Soda says, sorta reluctantly, “...Don’t you wanna get your education?”

  Tex shrugs. “I mean, sure, but I gotta eat, don’t I? Else I ain’t never gettin’ tall like Mason,” he grins.

  “Well, yeah, but I know ya get really decent grades, buddy, don’t ya? I mean,” Soda shrugs, “you could do somethin’ with that.”

  Tex blinks. “Like what?” He genuinely can’t think of anything he’d need a diploma for- not for stable work, not for horse shows, not for rodeos.

  “Well, like…” Soda hesitates. “Well, gee, I dunno. But things that need a highschool degree are sure out there, kid- why d’ya think I worked so hard to get my GED?”

  “To work at a horse stable?” Tex jokes. 

  “Naw,” Soda admits. “But I mean, to get far in jobs. I had to get mine so that I could be a manager at the gas station I worked at, back before the draft an’ all,” he says, flicking the dog tags around his neck. 

  “Gee, Soda, I ain’t too interested in workin’ at a gas station,” Tex jokes, purposefully missing the point.

  “Okay,” Soda says, agreeable as ever. “Alls I’m sayin’ is that it could save ya time and money to have a highschool degree. I ain’t even talkin’ ‘bout college after. Just high school.”

  Tex chews his lip and ties up the billet in a good Texas-T knot. He decides to lay the score on Soda- if anyone gets it, it’s him. 

  “I just…I’ve been savin’ for things, y’know? Savin’ my money for things. And I’ll make more of it if I ain’t gotta go to school.”

  “What’re ya savin’ for, some tuff Mustang? A Corvette? A Roadmaster?” Soda says, with a twinkle in his eye.

  “Naw…” Tex says, looking at the floor of the stable. He doesn’t totally wanna say what he’s saving for. It’s…kind of silly. But Soda’s never laughed at him, not really, so finally he opens his mouth. “I’m savin’ for a horse,” he admits.

  Soda raises an eyebrow. “You gonna get a horse? …Why?”

  Tex sighs. “Well, I’m a good rider. I know you ain’t never seen me, but I am. And if I could ride again, I could go back to riding in rodeos. And there’s money in that, if you’re real good.”

  Soda whistles low. “I s’ppose there can be. How good are ya talkin’, kid?”

  “Good enough to get my job here, and I did well in those junior rodeos growin’ up.”

  “Aw, I did those too. Those are good fun. What events did ya do?”

  “Roped, saddle bronc, and barrel racin’.” Tex says, jutting his chin out. Barrel racing is usually meant for girls, but Tex likes it. 

  “Tuff,” Soda nods. “I mainly did bronc. Always wanted to jockey, but I ain’t skeletal enough for it,” he chuckles. That makes sense- Soda ain’t a heavyweight by any means, but even his lean build isn’t anywhere near slim enough for jockeying.

  “Why’d ya stop?”

  “Bum knee, killed me,” Soda grunts, heaving the saddle off.

  “Oh yeah,” Tex says, brushing a chunk of mud outta Casanova’s coat. Soda’s told him about the ligament he tore before, and how it’s why he can’t ride anymore. Which is too bad, really, because Mr. Kencaide said once that Soda in his prime was one of the greatest riders he ever saw. Tex woulda loved to see him. 

  “Bad enough to keep me outta rodeos, but,” Soda chuckles, hoisting the saddle up, “not enough to keep me outta ‘Nam. Life sure is funny, huh, kid?”

  Tex chuckles too, even though he doesn’t see what’s so funny. 

  He drops the subject of rodeos, and brings up cars instead when Soda comes back from hanging up the saddle. He gets the vibe that talking about Soda’s knee depresses him. 

- 

  Tex gets home as the sun starts to dip down below the trees. The door’s unlocked, and there’s two people in the kitchen.

  “Gee, what’re y’all doin’ here?” Tex says, walking into the house. The motorcycle was outside, so he’s not completely surprised to see Johnny and Jamie Collins standing there. But it’s still weird seeing them completely unannounced.

  Johnny’s looking through the fridge, which is mostly empty if Tex is being honest, and Jamie’s by the countertop, messing with the stove.

  “There ya are, we were wonderin’ when you’d get here,” Jamie says, brisk and quick as usual. “You got any forks, anywhere?”

  “Huh?”

  “They’re by the dishwasher, dummy, I told ya that already,” Johnny says, rolling his eyes. “Hiya, Tex,” he adds, grinning.

  “What’s goin’ on?” Tex chuckles.

  “We gotcha dinner,” Jamie explains, stepping away from the stove. “Mona made too much, and Johnny thought we oughta share ‘em.” 

  The Collins kids all call their Pop ‘Cole’ and their Ma ‘Mona’. Tex doesn’t get how Cole Collins sees that as perfectly normal, when he once yelled at Tex for not making eye contact. It’s real hard to gauge sometimes what Cole does and doesn’t see as disrespect.

  “I called ya first,” Johnny adds sheepishly, “but ya didn’t pick up, so I figured you was at work still. Didn’t think you’d mind if we stopped by anyhow.”

  Tex nods. He doesn’t mind at all- if he did mind, he wouldn’t leave a key under the doormat, now would he?

  “Thanks y’all,” Tex smiles. “What is…dinner, exactly?”

  “Puttanesca,” Jamie says.

  Tex glances at Johnny for clarification.

  Johnny rolls his eyes. “It’s some fancy-type Italian stuff, I dunno. Mona’s real into Italian food right now- our cousin Keith, y’know, the one from the city? His fiance’s some chick who’s Ma’s Italian, and every family dinner she gives Mona another recipe.”

  “I like it,” Jamie says, crossing her arms. “Excuse my brother’s closed mind, Texas,” she smirks.

  “Aww shuddup, I like Marcia fine. I just don’t think I can handle any more pasta, be it spaghetti, linguine, ravioli, or that one that’s shaped like tiny bowties,” Johnny says, tossing his hands up.

  “Farfalle,” Jamie corrects. “It’s called that because that’s how you say butterfly in Italian,” she informs Tex.

  “Oh, yeah?” he says, nodding. Jamie gets a little bit stuck-up about stuff like culture and all sometimes. It used to be kind of endearing, but now that Jamie’s not his girlfriend anymore, some of the things that used to be cute are now sorta annoying. That’s not a bad thing, really, because it just means they’re friends again for real. There’s plenty of things Johnny does that annoy Tex too, so he figures that’s pretty normal with friends, even when that friend’s a girl.

  “Whatever. Ignore the know-it-all,” Johnny scoffs.

  “Already was,” Tex grins, looking at Jamie. She shoves him, face cracking into a good-natured smile of her own.

  “Fine, if you two wanna stay stupid, don’t let me stop you,” she says, tossing her head dramatically.

  “Well, thanks for bringin’ the food by,” Tex says, looking over Jamie’s shoulder at the pot of pasta. He opens the cupboard and grabs three plates. “Guess that since y’all brought the food, I oughta set the table, huh?” He smiles.

  “Oh, don’t bother,” Johnny says, sighing. “We already ate, and Mona said Jamie’s gotta be home by sunset for some damn reason, so we gotta split.”

  “I got swimming practice at the Y at seven in the mornin’,” Jamie explains, wrinkling her nose.

  “Oh,” Tex says, trying to hide his disappointment. “Well, thanks anyhow.”

  “Sure thing, buddy. I left ya some ice cream in the icebox, too,” Johnny grins, bumping his shoulder against Tex’s.

  “Aw, really? Sweet!” Tex brightens. He nudges Johnny back, who stumbles into Jamie on purpose.

  “Jerk,” Jamie grumbles, shoving him back. “Good to see ya, Tex,” she adds, smiling and sticking her hand out. “It’s sure been a while.”

  What with how Tex is in high school now while Jamie’s still in junior high, it feels like ages have gone by since they hung out, even though it’s really just been a month. 

  So Tex bats her hand away and throws an arm around her shoulders, pulling her into a side hug. “Yeah, well, that don’t mean ya can go an’ be a stranger, okay, Collins?” he grins.

  “Yeah, yeah, whatever ya say,” Jamie says, but she’s grinning too.

  “Aw, break it up,” Johnny gags. He knows they ain’t together anymore, but maybe it’s hard to forget about your best friend and your little sister goin out, even if they did only go out for a month. “See ya Monday, Tex?”

  Tex shakes his head, letting Jamie go. “Doubt it. I think I’m gonna pick up another shift at the stable.”

  Johnny’s smile dips just a fraction. “...Right. Yeah. Okay.”

  “Definitely Tuesday though, yeah?” Tex says, clapping Johnny on the back.

  “Sure thing, buddy,” Johnny says, clapping him back. “Jamie,” he adds, nodding at the door.

  “G’night, Tex!” she waves, and with that, the Collinses are out the door.

  “Night,” Tex calls back.

  He scoops up a plate of pasta and eats it there in the kitchen. It’s pretty good- there’s olives and like…peas or something in the tomato sauce. 

  But man, the house really is quiet.

  Tex flicks on the radio and turns it up loud. 

  Mason doesn’t get outta basketball until eight, and he’s usually not back at his dorm until nine, and Tex has learned the hard way that Mason’s roommate never shuts up. That wouldn’t be so bad on its own if it weren’t for how boring he is. Last time Tex called before nine o’clock, the roommate talked for a solid half hour about the weather.

  But finally, as the evening talk shows fade away into the music programs, the clock strikes nine.

  Tex dials Mace’s number.

  “Hey, it’s Tex,” Tex says into the receiver.

  “Hey, Texas! It’s Harris! How ya doin’?”

  Tex stifles a groan. “Hey man, can ya put Mace on the line?”

  “Aw, Mason ain’t here now.”

  “But…it’s nine?”

  “Yeah, but your brother ain’t some kinda shut-in, kid, he’s at Olsen’s party!”

  Tex frowns. That doesn’t sound like Mason. But all he says to Harris is “So…if you ain’t, then you’re a shut-in, then?”

  “…No. I didn’t say that. …You’re a kid, you don’t get it.”

  “Really? ‘Cos, like, you’re home…” Tex says. He’s not trying to be mean. He’s just bored.

  There’s a click, and the line goes dead. Harris must’ve hung up. 

  Tex sighs. What’s Mace doin’ at a party? It doesn’t sound like him at all. 

  He rises from the chair by the phone. He doesn’t really wanna think about it.

  So he flicks on the radio again, letting the evening rock segment blast.

  “But I wish there was somethin' you would do or say. To try and make me change my mind and stay…But we never did too much talking anyway. But don't think twice, it's all right…” Bob Dylan croons. 

  Tex turns the radio off again. He likes Dylan fine, but tonight things are just hitting a little close to home.

-

  “You there, Sodapop?”

  “Hm?” Soda says, glancing up across the dinner table. 

  “I was askin’ ya to pass the napkins,” Steve says with a gap-toothed grin. 

  “Right,” Soda says, sitting up. “Sorry.”

  “You okay? You’ve been tapped out all evenin’,” Steve says, taking a mouthful of soup.

  “I have been? Sorry,” Soda says again.

  “No big deal…care to let me in on it, though?” Steve says, kicking him gently under the table. Soda kicks back harder, and Steve’s eyes narrow like a hawk’s. He leans back in his chair to get a better angle, and clobbers Soda’s shin. 

  “Ain’t nothin’, really,” Soda shrugs, sweeping his leg up to dig his heel into the soft flesh of Steve’s thigh. “Was just talkin’ to Texas at work today.”

  “Oh yeah? How’s he doin?” Steve says, eyes softening. He met Tex for the first time a few weeks ago, and he’s built a bit of a soft spot for the kid, asking about him and all constantly.

 Soda chews his lip. “Well, he was sayin’ somethin’ about havin’ to drop outta school soon.”

  In his effort to free his leg, Steve spills a few drops of soup onto Evie’s nice tablecloth. “...So?” He takes another sip of soup, feigning properness. “Kids drop out all the time.” He stops fighting for a second to look at Soda. “You dropped out.”

  “Yeah, but I was stupid and failin’ all my classes, and I had Ponyboy to look out for. Tex ain’t half bad at school, he just needs more money…”

  Steve’s eyes narrow. “What’re ya sayin’ here?”

  “Well, I just thought- and I know we gotta discuss it with Evie, too, and I will when she gets home- I just thought we maybe could…I dunno, lend him a hand?” Soda says, all in one breath. 

  Steve takes a bite of soup, not answering. Finally, he says “Does Tex really not have any type of family to help him out?”

  “No, he don’t, Stevie. His Momma died, an’ his old man may as well have, ‘cos he runs away to rodeos majority of the year. I ain’t sayin’ we pay for his college fund or nothin’, Christ, I ain’t even sayin’ we do all that much at all. Alls I’m sayin’ is…maybe we could cover his school lunches, or somethin’.” Soda explains.

  Steve sighs. “Hey, I’m down for lettin’ him hang ‘round here when he’s gotta, but this…I mean, I dunno that this is any of our business, man.”

  “Hey, you did it for me and Ponyboy,” Soda says, chewing his lip. “An’ it wasn’t really your business…”

  Steve stirs his soup. “Shoot, Soda…”

  “I’m just sayin’ we oughta think about it.”

  Steve smiles, just a hint. “...Fine.” Under his breath, he mutters “You an’ yer goddamn bleedin’ heart.”

-

  “Hey hey, McCormick!” Soda yells, hopping up onto the gate of the arena. “I gotta talk to ya!”

  Tex starts, looking up from the pile of hay he’s swept. “Soda! Mornin’! Didn’t see ya there!” He props the broom up against Casanova’s stall, and heads to the arena. Soda’s wedged his boots between the bars, and is leaned over the top a foot above Tex.

  “Look, I wanted to give ya a uh…” he says, pausing to pluck the toothpick he’s chewing on out of his mouth, “...a deal: I’ll help ya buy a horse, so long as ya don’t drop outta high school.”

  Tex feels his eyes widen. “Aw, what? I couldn’t ask ya to do that!”

  “You ain’t askin’, I am,” Soda says.

  Tex bites back the urge to say yes- He can’t let Soda give him money, he can just hear Mason telling him not to. He can hear Mason warning him, saying something about how dangerous it is to let anyone lend him money- it’s an act of power, and there’s gotta be some kind of catch…

  “Still,” Tex forces out, “I…that’s too much, man,” he says, voice weak. “I couldn’t…accept that, let ya just…buy me a horse…Mason would kill me.”

  Soda considers it, twisting the toothpick in the corner of his mouth. “...Okay…if ya say so,” he frowns. “Just…think about it, will ya?”

  Tex smiles. “...I will.”

  “Good,” Soda grins. “Hey, tack me up Ruby, will ya? I got a lesson to teach in ‘bout half an hour, an’ it’s one of those Socy kids who don’t like gettin’ her hands dirty.”

  (Soda uses weird words like “Soc” still. Tex figures it comes from growing up in the city- Soda grew up in North Tulsa, back in the days when kids slicked their hair back with Vaseline or fancy cream and dressed like Elvis Presley. Soda’s hair is pretty normal now- long-ish and wheat-gold- but Steve Randle, Soda’s roommate, still wears his hair like he’s on the cover of some 50s rock album.)

  “Sure thing,” Tex says, already getting a sinking feeling of disappointment at turning down Soda’s offer. “Hey, Soda, thanks anyway, man,” he says before turning to Ruby’s stall. “I really ‘preciate it.”

  “Hey, I like ya, kid. I mean, you need anything, ever, lemme know, yeah?” Soda says. “It’d be a real damn shame to see ya drop outta school.”

  Yeah, it would be. But it ain’t like I got a choice, Tex thinks, gritting his teeth.

  But he’s happy, too, anyway. Maybe he can’t take Soda up on his offer, but it’s nice to know someone’s got his back. Especially someone as cool as Soda.

-

  “Ooh. Soda’s makin’ dinner,” Evie whistles, leaning over his shoulder. Soda smiles.

  “Evenin’, babe,” he says, pecking her cheek. “How was work?”   Evie sighs. “It was a lot.”

  Steve snorts from his perch on the countertop, and Evie whips him in the knee with a dishtowel. 

  “Steve’s already got the briefin’, eh?” Soda grins, looking up from the burgers he’s frying.

  “Yes, but you ain’t,” Evie pouts.

  Steve reaches for her, and she stands between his legs, letting him play with her hair. “Sorry, baby,” he chuckles, putting his hands on her shoulders. “Go on, rant.”

  “Thanks for your permission,” she says flatly.

  “Ignore the lug, I wanna hear,” Soda says, flipping a patty.

  “Thank you,” she says, grinning. “You know that old guy, the one who was convicted of runnin’ stock scams in the Depression?”

  “Sure,” Soda nods. She’s complained about this old guy before. He doesn’t think she’s ever said his name or anything- just calls him “The old guy”. Which ain’t too specific, seeing how Evie practically works at a nursing home.

  “Well today he tried getting the high school volunteers to sell him grass!” she says, tossing her hands up in the air. Steve chuckles. 

  “I’m serious, Steven!” she says, poking his chest. “The little fifteen year old honor students! Poor Naomi O’Byrne- she had no clue what to do ‘bout it!” But Evie’s smiling toothily too, trying not to laugh at her own words. “I mean, if he’d come to me for grass it woulda been okay-”

  “Because yer all stocked up on it?” Soda teases. 

 “No, ‘cos I know to tell him that his respiratory system ain’t in any shape for smokin’- but poor Naomi went out to the courtyard and came back with a handful of lawn…” Evie giggles. 

  Steve laughs. “She live under a rock or somethin’?”   “Well, if she lived under a rock, she’d know ‘bout grass,’ Evie says, laughing into Steve’s shoulder.

  Soda laughs too, and brings the platter of food to the table. 

  “There ain’t no food colorin’ today, is there?” Steve says, eyeing it with his brow raised. 

  “Course not,” Soda says. For once, he does mean it. It wouldn’t bode well to convince his partners to do what he wants while also dying their tongues green.

  “Really?” Steve says suspiciously. He glances at Evie, who shrugs. She doesn’t have the same suspicion for Soda’s concoctions as Steve does- she wasn’t there for the Easter dinner incident of 1964. Thirteen years later, and Steve still double checks that there’s no raw eggs or  excessive food dye in anything.

  “There ain’t, I promise,” Soda chuckles, sitting down across from them.

  At the table, Steve and Evie dig in. Once they’ve slowed, ensuring they’ll be in the best moods possible, Soda makes his move.

  “So. Evie, you remember a few weeks ago, when Tex stayed over here?” he says slowly, twisting the ring on his left hand.

  “Sure. Good kid. What about him?” Evie says, reapplying her lip gloss using her reflection on her spoon.

  “Oh…” Steve mutters.

  Soda glares at him, waving his hand. Steve shifts in his seat and shuts up.  

  “Thank you. Now uh…look, so the kid is fixin’ to drop out of school so he can buy a horse and make money offa rodeos. I…shoulda probably told ya first, but today I offered to uh…help him financially so that he don’t have to pick up even more shifts and drop out.”

  “You- Sodapop-”

  “Hey, hey, he said no! He said no,” Soda says sheepishly. Evie raises an eyebrow. 

  “So…what’re you sayin’?” she says.

  “I’m askin’...what d’ya think we can…y’know, do for him? Because you know him, we all like him, and I just don’t think he should have to drop out when he’s got decent grades. And more importantly, I don’t think a sixteen year old kid should be stuck without any support livin’ home alone.”

  “Dallas did,” Steve says without thinking.

  “Yeah,” Soda says, “exactly.”

  Steve’s face falls fast. He squeezes the St. Christopher pendant ‘round his neck, till his knuckles are white and a vein pops outta his hand, and Soda knows they’re both picturing it, that night all those years ago when Dally ran, crashed, fell, bled… 

  Evie reaches for Steve’s other hand on the table, rubbing the back of it with her thumb. “Well,” she says, trying to steer the conversation away from their dead friends, “we’ve already offered to let him crash here when he wants, which I am completely down for. But if he’s told you no, what else do you think we can do?”

  Soda shrugs, looking away sullenly. “I dunno. I just…I don’t get it. I know he ain’t Ponyboy, and I don’t think he’s got it in him to go off to university or nothin’, but I know I wish I’d gotten my diploma- sure it seemed like no big deal when I was sixteen, but man, it sucked gettin’ a hold of that GED.” 

  Evie and Steve glance at each other. They were both in college in Arizona while Soda was getting his GED, so they don’t exactly understand how awful it was. 

  “Seriously, while y’all were mixin’ cocktails an’ given’ kids piercings, I was in night school with Curly goddamn Shepard,” Soda says, jutting out his chin. “Four hours, five o’clock to nine, every day. Only to get drafted right after.”

  “Hey, bartendin’ was harder than the DX,” Steve says, almost joking.

  “Yeah, yeah, tell yerself that,” Soda scoffs, grinning. “But y’know, I just don’t want Tex to deal with that. It was so lousy, an’ I only passed ‘cos Ponyboy did all my homework.” He shrugs, and tilts back in his chair. “I just…I wish I hadn’t dropped out, y’know? I wish someone coulda helped us back then.”

  “Hey, I wanted to,” Steve says, sitting up. “I told Darry, ya know that, I wanted to. But he wouldn’t let me. Didn’t wanna owe no one nothin’, not even his kid brother’s best friend. Wouldn’t even take my loanin’ Pony-kid some of his college fund until I convinced him it was my rent for stayin’ at yer place.”

  Rent…

  “You’re right…” Soda murmurs, turning it over in his brain. “Hell’s bells, yer right. I’ve been thinkin’ bout this all wrong.”

  “Hm?” Steve frowns.

  “Oh!” Evie exclaims, eyes widening. “You mean…”

  Soda snaps his fingers. “Texas ain’t thinkin’ like me…he’s thinkin’ like Darry.”

-

  “Tex! Texas! McCormick, man!” Soda says, hopping outta his truck. He bounds down the gravel drive, racing towards Tex. Tex jumps, nearly dropping a halter. 

  “Soda!” he grins, catching it in a way that hopefully looks tuff. 

  Soda skids to a stop, bending over to heave a breath. He coughs. “Doggone it, I shouldn’ta run like that,” he gasps, completely winded. 

  “I thought you was in the army,” Tex teases.

  “Hey, that was ‘bout nine or ten years ago,” Soda groans, still bent over. He leans against the barn wall and heaves himself up. “An’ ‘sides…cardio ain’t never been my strong suit…an’ all those years of hangin’ ‘round everyone’s cancer sticks ain’t so good for the ol’ windbags…” he wheezes. Tex laughs. 

  “Seems to me yer gettin’ old, Sodapop,” he grins. Soda grins back, ‘cos he’s real great at takin’ jokes for an adult.

  Once he’s finally steadied himself, he puts his hand on his hips. “Okay, okay, you remember how yesterday I said I’d buy ya a horse?”

  Tex’s heart sinks, wishing he could say yes but knowing he can’t. “Oh…”

  “No, I ain’t offerin’ again, don’tcha look at me like that- Christ, ya look how my high school girlfriend looked turnin’ down my engagement ring,” Soda says fast. Tex schools his face back to being neutral as he can get it. “Listen, how’s this- you got stable space, don’tcha?”

  Tex swallows. The thought of the empty stable in the backyard still makes him feel all empty inside, even a whole year later.

  “Sure, it’s been empty since ole’ Mace sold Negrito an’ Red,” Tex grunts, leaning against the wall next to Soda. 

  Soda snaps his fingers, hand shooting out to grab Tex’s shoulder. “That’s it!” he exclaims.

  “Huh?”

  “I tell ya what- I pay ninety-five bucks a month keepin’ Whinny here at Kencaide’s. I’ll pay ya the same to keep her at your place, how’s that?” Soda says. “That way you ain’t gotta pick up more shifts, an’ I ain’t givin’ you the money- I’m payin’ ya for your property. How’s that for a deal?” Soda grins.

  “You’d do that?” Tex says, trying his damndest to temper his enthusiasm.

  “Yes, completely! An’ you can practice ridin’ on her ‘till ya got enough for yer own horse. I know she ain’t the fastest or nothin’, but hey, she’s real nice, right?”

  “I can?” Tex says, bouncing on his feet. “You’d- you’d let me?”

  “Hey, so long as she’s taken care of by someone, I’ll pay anyone for stable space. And you already know her, so she’ll be happier with you than anyone else, much as I wish I could keep her in my backyard…but Evie don’t want her tramplin’ the flower beds, and I don’t think the neighbors’d go for that,” Soda rambles. He pauses, and glances at Tex. “So…yer down? Ya ain’t gonna…drop out?”

  Tex shrugs. “Well, ninety-five a month plus the salary from the shifts I got now, plus Mason’s checks in the mail…I’d be set, man!” he grins. “It’s a deal!” he says, sticking out his hand.

  “Sweet!” Soda says, pumping his fist. He shakes Tex’s hand enthusiastically. “I’ll drive her over this weekend, an’ I can start bringin’ her stuff by after work!”

  Tex smiles, a fluttering feeling in his chest. “Soda, man, I- I dunno what to say, man,” he says, running a hand through his hair.

  Soda squeezes his shoulder. “Hey, ain’t nothin’, lil’ buddy.”

  Tex doesn’t know what to say to that, either, because it isn’t nothing. It’s huge. But he still can’t find the words. So he opens his mouth, closes it, and then dives into Soda and throws his arms around him tight. 

  Soda says “Oh! Hi!” and then hugs him back gently. “Hey, hey, I’m happy to help ya out, any way I can, kid,” he says softly.

  “You do too much for me, man,” Tex chuckles into Soda’s shoulder. 

  “Nah. Ain’t doin’ much at all,” Soda says. “Yer a good kid. I got yer back, buddy.”

  Tex smiles wide, and pushes off of Soda, racing to the other end of the barn, whooping and laughing loud all the way. Soda laughs too, running just behind, hopping over a hay bale and landing next to Tex.

  Tex grins and falls down into a pile of hay, looking at the roof of the barn. Boy, Johnny will be real glad he ain’t droppin’ out anymore.

  And then he thinks Mason will be real mad. Which almost kills his mood.

  But then he hears Whinny neighing and thinks about getting to ride again for the first time in a year, getting to tack a horse for himself, and about Soda and all the warmth Soda and his friends have for him, and he puts Mason out of his head.

  “Come on over tonight after work why don’tcha?” Tex says finally, looking up at Soda. “I got some leftovers from the other night, an’ we can start movin’ yer gear in, yeah? Maybe I’ll call Johnny too, make a night of it.”

  Soda helps him up and claps him on the back, grinning. “Sounds like a plan.”

[rovasdiary]

Hello! Can I request Annaka x fem reader Headcanons— where they are besties (who are crushing on each other) and the reader is an editor who makes edits of all her friends (because they are all celebs and famous—) but she edits Lynn Loud a lot— which is lowkey kind of a flirt tactic- and a way to express her feelings— without saying anything— idk I just thought this would be a funny and cute idea to ask— especially since they are so many edits of Lynn on TikTok lmao

this is such a cute idea!! enjoy :)

annaka fourneret x fem!reader . ✧.*

warnings: none i think (bad writing)

𝐓𝐇𝐄𝐘 𝐃𝐎𝐍𝐓 𝐊𝐍𝐎𝐖 𝐀𝐁𝐎𝐔𝐓 𝐔𝐒

꩜ you were screwed.

like, emotionally and irreversibly screwed.

because somewhere between helping annaka run lines for the really loud house, accidentally cuddling during movie nights, and sneakily memorizing the way she would walk and talk—you fell in love with your best friend.

and instead of telling her like a normal person, you… made tiktok edits.

of lynn loud.

because that was way less terrifying than saying “hey so remember how we said we were just friends? hahahahaah what if i wanted to kiss you sometimes.”

your editing account was already kind of a thing. you made reels and tiktoks of your celeb friends—cute moments, behind-the-scenes bloopers, dramatic transitions with the most unhinged audios possible. people loved it. your fanbase ate it up.

but lynn loud?

you edited her like she was your religion.

slow-mo clips of her kicking a soccer ball? synced to the bridge of “telepatía.”

a clip of her laughing? set to that audio that’s like “and god said let there be hot people.”

the one of her walking in slow motion down the school hallway? 3 million views. comments feral.

and annaka saw every single one.

she’d start with casual replies.

“lol not you using this shot again.”

to which you always had a comeback, “the people need what the people need”

“you’re the people”

“…and i need it”

then she started watching your drafts before you posted.

“this one’s too hot,” she’d say, watching over your shoulder. “they’re gonna think you have a crush.”

“on lynn,” you’d reply, without blinking.

she never said anything to that. just stared at you for a second too long before grabbing a bag of chips and wandering off.

what she didn’t know was that you had an entire folder titled ‘def not about annaka’ full of footage you refused to post.

candids of her fixing your hair. a close-up of her smiling after she made you laugh so hard you snorted. a shot of her sleeping on your shoulder during a press tour flight.

you tried editing them. once.

but every time you added the audio and hit preview, it felt too raw. too obvious. like you’d peeled open your chest and handed her your beating heart with a sparkle overlay and a lofi background track.

so instead, you stuck to lynn.

and it worked.

until it didn’t.

the unraveling started when you posted the edit.

you didn’t mean for it to be a confession. but it kind of was.

the song was that one that goes “i wish i could unread every text you ever sent me”—melodramatic, unhinged, and absolutely dripping in angst.

the clip? lynn looking up with those soft, sad eyes after a soccer loss.

the caption being i’d still pick you.

you posted it at 2am. by the time you woke up, it had 1.4 million views and annaka had left zero comments. not even a sarcastic one.

which was weird.

you dm’d her. no response.

you checked snap. unopened.

uh-oh.

you went full spiral in less than an hour. what if she figured it out? what if she knew it was about her? what if she hated you now?

you were mid spiral on your bedroom floor when your phone buzzed.

fizzy🫶🏻:

come over. now.

you stared at the screen for a full thirty seconds before bolting out the door.

she was waiting in her driveway when you arrived, arms crossed, hair up in a messy bun, wearing your hoodie.

“you good?” you asked, heart doing a full gymnastics routine.

she didn’t answer. just stared.

“okay, creepy silence is new,” you tried to joke, but it fell flat.

she finally spoke.

“that edit.”

your stomach dropped.

“what about it?”

“it wasn’t about lynn.”

you froze.

she stepped closer. “don’t lie. it wasn’t.”

you opened your mouth. closed it. tried again.

“…why does it matter?”

her jaw clenched. “because if you’re gonna flirt with me through my character, the least you can do is admit it.”

oh.

oh.

you stared at her. she stared back. the air between you went electric.

“…you watch my edits that closely?” you whispered.

she rolled her eyes. “i have a fucking playlist.”

your breath caught. “what.”

“you think i don’t see how much you zoom in on my face during every fake lynn thirst trap? you think i don’t know how your captions are just—you, trying not to say it?”

you blinked. “so what if i was.”

her voice dropped. “then say it.”

and you did.

“I’m in love with you, annaka.”

the silence that followed felt like a freefall.

and then—

she stepped forward, hands shaking slightly, and kissed you.

soft. certain. and everything you’d tried to say in every edit, every caption, every stolen glance.

when she pulled away, she smiled.

“for the record,” she whispered, “you’re a great editor.”

you laughed. “and you’re a terrible liar.”

she grinned. “yeah?”

“yeah. lynn could never.”

that night you posted a new edit.

it was a clip of you and annaka, giggling during a press event, her hand on your knee. with the audio “this one’s for the girl who had to make tiktoks instead of confessing like a normal person.”

the caption being “she knew. she always knew.”

comments were a disaster.

“Y’ALL WERE DATING THIS WHOLE TIME???”

“THE THIRST TRAPS WERE FLIRTING I’M SCREAMING”

“someone check on lynn loud she lost her number one fan”

“we won. the gay agenda WON.”

you just sent one reply.

“it was always about her.”

divider by strangergraphics!

rova’s notes ౨ৎ

sorry for being gone i’m employed unlike some of yall xxx

[amilfdala]

‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ perdition.

pairing: cain x lane. — tw: nil. — rating: t. — chapter: 2/? — prev chapter. — playlist. — high school graduate lane and priest in training cain happens to cross each others path. — tag: @rc-catalog. — words: 2.6k. — fandom: hsr.

‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎chapter two. — gas station.

‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎‘what are you, cain?’ simple, direct, effective. but his eyes, his unwavering attention, and the manslaughter, stung her tongue to stillness. instead, she rolled his name over her mouth, letting it seep between her teeth so it wouldn’t tremble when summoned to speak. but the familiar aftertaste it left behind startled her, as if his name was always meant for her to breathe. 

she pursed her lips, deep in thought, once again sinking into the gallows of her estranged mind. the situation she found herself in could not be quite called a catastrophe, yet it had the markings of one. like a storm, his presence swept away the sturdy supports of an otherwise structured life. and now, she found herself flailing.

lane sighed. the only emotional response she allowed herself to intimate. she could feel the lingering gaze of the angel on this single gesture, as if he followed the haze of her sigh from her mouth to the sky. a cold draft pricked her skin, or so she urged herself to believe, as she could compound no other explanation for the sudden shower of goosebumps.

but it was enough to awaken her from her stupor, and with it came a semblance of control. from it she derived ample recklessness to bolt right up and stand where she now stood, in front of the lifeless fiend with her toe wedged into his chest, marvelling at his stopped heart. 

‘should we dispose him off?’ lane asked with obvious displeasure, but offered it out of courtesy regardless.

‘is that what you wish?’ the angel offered in return, lazily, and allowed his own disinterest on the matter permeate the air. 

‘no,’ she walked toward him, ignoring the wind playfully ruffling the feathers of his wings, a sentence she could hardly articulate without another bout of confusion and horror sweeping in, and pressed her answer to his hands. ‘what i wish for is a can of soda’.

her touch fell on his fingers with the caress of a night cradling the moon, and cain momentarily clenched the beads in his hand tighter, refusing, for a moment, to let her flutter away. in her wake, however, she left behind a curious little thing, invoking a sudden rumble of laughter from his chest. 

‘stealing from a dead man? you’re into strange endeavours, lane’ cain spoke, amusement refusing to escape his lilting tone. her strange request, no, her wish, stood in contrast to her current stance; pursed lips, reddened cheeks — likely from anger at his taunt — and proud posture. as if her offer for accompaniment didn’t oscillate between them like an organum.

lane’s disposition towards the angel, within a moment’s spark, tended to flare and scorch in mystifying ordeals. she watched as he carded through the wallet, a barely held together patch of leather, and hoped that he would take upon her offer, no matter how suddenly or crudely it was presented.

then again, such abrupt conditions may not be so abrupt to a benevolent angel of death.

she was still reeling from his jibe. material possessions are of no use to the dead, she had said, almost as much to the void as it was to the grinning angel, then bit her tongue, despising the anger that had loosened it. 

expecting one of his clever remarks to make its way to her, lane had not expected the angel himself to come close, too close, and he did it so swiftly and stealthily that he was by her side before her eyes could blink and recover. her body flinched in response only seconds later, finally repsonding to the stimuli caused by the uncanny situation, and exemplified no less by her own frantic mind. 

and in such a state, she hadn’t realised the strap of her bag had slid down her shoulders, choosing the most treacherous moment to amplify the chaos. but to the angel, it was yet another opportunity to grab, a fortune playing right into his hands, as intended. 

before it could slip past, cain grabbed her arm gently, fingers clasping around her wrist in such a manner that his thumb nestled above her pulsating vein. lane allowed the touch to commence, despite being too startled, and god forbid, flustered by the proximity. yet she found in its merit a way to solidy a simple truth — his existence, in her eyes. and for that to happen, she allowed him an indulgence she reserved for no other — to be near, to be so damnably close. 

he took the bag away, but the beads in his roasry, so wound to his fingers that it now bore his skin, snagged on her sleeve, loosening a thread which now stood connected between them. cain watched as she moved to intercept, interested in seeing how she would solve this particular plight, and how it would allude to their relationship, albeit newly formed. that is, of course, if it lasts the term. 

would she immediately cut the string? a swift, clean strike, leaving nothing but a meandering thread in the sky. maybe from a distance, it would echo the likeness of a falling feather. or perhaps, it would be a sharp jerk of her hand, even at the risk of worsening the lining of her sleeve, all in the name of a reprieve only found in his absence.

but when she stood there next to him, nudging the tangled thread from one of his beads free, her fingers fluttering like moth wings across the undulating path of his palm, he failed at what should have been the assessment of a simple human contact. for purposes so clear in his head, she had trampled upon it dreadfully, leaving behind mangled thoughts that needed immediate repair, before anything else caught onto this momentary lapse. 

the thread was gone, but the connection remained, conscious and volitional. 

lane stepped back, clutching something white in her fist, which, with a quick adjustment, disappeared in the folds of her skirt. ‘shall we?’ she prodded, needing his assent to their impromptu stroll, which she got in the nod of his head. and they set off, his feather secured in the inner pockets of her rustling skirt, and her bag thrown over his back, treacherously hanging above the base of his wings. 

‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ...

the gas station wasn’t far away, and the trek towards it had yielded results, but the revelations it brought forth did not come to her in gentle waves. it roared against the shore of her conscience with the might of an all devouring beast, but her countenance expressed none of that, her features schooled to an almost perfect, doll-like indifference. 

during the walk, lane had noticed how dubiously the mist would part around him, as if nature itself was wary of cain’s intrusion upon its land, and sought to do what it could to subtly inform the world about it. then came the people, where the first few flock paid them no heed, fussing around and dealing with their own problems as they strode past, the others, abruptly stopping, had approached cain. her breath had stoppped then. is this it? she thought feverishly, a sickly tremor passing through her, is the imposter finally caught in the act?

she could not help but remember and scoff at how ridiculous she had ended up looking when, instead of panic or fear, the people who had approached cain did so with friendly gestures and open smiles, engaging him in conversations on topics that now constantly eluded her. lane was greatly bothered by it, because nestled in the back of her mind were these events that occured only minutes ago and yet, only the imprint of his eyes, glinting silver in the rare ray of sunlight, remained.

in the end, the information she had sought fell on her hands with leaden weight. cain’s angelic form was visible to her, and only to her. she doubted he knew of her realisation, and intending to keep it that way, spoke nothing of it. however, his particular proclivities, so alien in nature, was harder to turn a blind eye to. 

‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎especially as they stood now, in front of a vending machine split in two just by a kick from his leg.

when they had reached the gas station, it was partially empty and cocooned by a thick layer of mist, making it impossible to see more than a few feet ahead of them. cain had looked around, noting nothing interesting, other than the girl’s subject of interest — the vending machines nestled in the far corner, away from the service areas and surrounded by white flowering shrubs tolerant of both neglect and humidity. 

‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎cain regarded the girl, glancing over. ‘lost in your thoughts again?’ a smirk tugged at his lips.

‘nothing much to think about when getting a few drinks’ she retorted calmly, then turned over to him, ‘or should i be worried?’ 

‘you should always be wary lane, of even the slightest of shifts’ his wings rose, almost imperceptibly, but she sensed the change and tensed up regardless. it did not escape cain’s notice, prompting a wider grin. ‘but today, cast it all aside, you’re in no danger here’ he stepped closer, feet thudding the ground, and it echoed in her head, along with his serpentine voice. ‘you’re safe’

alright, she thought to herself, i’ll go along with your farce, angel. 

there were three vending machines in front of them, all beckoning them forth, vying for their attention and the coins that jingled merrily in their purse. cain and lane pointed at two completely different machines to use, and they both stubbornly refused to accept the other’s choice, forcing them to go inspect the ones they had chosen separatey. 

then they sighed simultaneously, and dejected by their venture — which bore results in the form of two machines obstinately refusing to work, not even moderately so they could save face — cain and lane met each other halfway through, one looking intently at unremarkable pebbles and the other at the obscured sky, and stood in front of the last machine, situated smack dab in the middle. 

the angel pointed at each tag in front of the drinks and started listing out the flavours, decidedly refusing to speak on the matter that had them both looking like baffoons just prior to this. lane certainly had no complaints on that regard, and even encouraged the angel to carry on with his recitation, nodding along to each listing like she was at an auction site. 

‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎‘...apple, cherry, pomegranate, so which one would it be?’ cain asked, tilting his head to the side, watching quitely as she took zero effort to land on an option.

‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎‘cherry’

he nodded, and pressed twice on the pomegranate option.

‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎‘oops’ he exclaimed. ‘slip of hand’.

she knew damn well that wasn’t a mistake.

cain chuckled at her poorly concealed displeasure, which made her frown even deeper. ‘if your heart desires it that much’ he gallantly pointed at the cherry soda can behind the tempered glass, ‘then you shall have it’ and made a sweeping motion, like a magician exiting the stage after a grand performance. except this time, the trick didn’t land.

the machine took his coins, but no soda can came tumbling down to his waiting arms. 

now it was cain’s turn to frown, dark eyebrows pinching together in confusion and irritation, and lane’s expression pivoted the other way, amused by the angel’s struggle with humanity’s perplexing technology, a forever collapsing ground with no rigid foundation. but will the servant of god truly understand such measly affairs?

lane stepped in to help, and employed a common tactic of handling defective machines, by kicking and slapping its body with enough fervor to jump start its functions and do what is required of it. just like her, she solemnly thought, condemn one’s nature long enough, they’ll start emulating a machine more than they would a man. 

she, however, didn’t realise that the angel had mirrored her moves diligently and, in the process, kicked the shell of the machine, causing it to crack open with a thunderous roar and split apart in the middle. she jolted back, like a spring held taut too long, and crashed into the body of the offender, who held her shoulders firmly and steadied her balance. but he didn’t let go.

‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎cain leaned in, his warmth breath fanning her cheeks, a whisper slipping past her ears. ‘sometimes its better to let yourself fall apart’. 

lane was struck. the phrase sunk into her depth, anchoring at the base of her soul and cascading across an empty harbour. she had never resonated with her heart, its thumping a foreign action, invading her body like a parasite. but she didn’t smother it shut, forcing herself to carry out this unpleasant duty of keeping her bodily functions intact as service to her lifegivers. nothing more, nothing less. so what bliss would it be to fall apart then? the gears never turning, the blood never rushing?

she swivelled around immediately, tongue poised in a venomous strike, to ask him, to force him to confess, what do you mean? but the reality of her situation struck another discordant tune, a cacophonic moment playing out that clashed severely with what had just passed. the angel didn’t have his arm around her, stood slightly apart, and was engaged in pensive thoughts, his gaze boring into the mangled machine.

she was stunned into silence. did that moment even transpire in reality?

that was how they had found themselves in this bizarre dilemma.

cain, with his arms crossed over his chest, white shirt crinkling at the action, pondered gloomily about the rather devastating blow he just dealt to a completely harmless machine, knowing it did nothing to incur such scronful wrath. or it did, by gobbling up their money and refusing to give what they ordered in exchange for it, inevitably upsetting his company. and those guilty of greed are directly condemned, and was done so by the hands of an angel. 

lane, on the other hand, teetering between the edges of the material world, was pulled abrputly back by a raspy shout. it echoed across the expanse of the station like a rocked chucked down a mountain, and she instinctively leaned back, to assess the problem and understand how dire their situation was. but instead of an approaching figure, she was instead assualted by a tuft of white feathers, a long, sturdy one almost poking her in the eye, and a startled gasp got stuck in her throat. 

standing beside the angel, her vision was hampered by massive, fluttering wings, and for the first time, instead of evoking a sense of dread, she felt anger and frustration at the sight of these peculiar limbs. there was a strong urge to part it like a curtain, as if it was merely an object of obstruction to be removed, and continue to gauge the situation. but she immediately abandoned such foolish thoughts, not so eager to give away her trump card, and instead leaned forward for an unobstructed view. 

and there she saw it, an approaching figure in a worker’s uniform pointing his hand and shouting in indignation. 

with all thoughts cast aside, and no time to spare, lane sprung into action, a decisive act that boiled down to a simple absconding. whatever ruminations cain was in the midst of would need to be suspended, and grabbing his wrist with one hand and throwing wads of cash in the air wih the other — hoping it would be enough to cover at least some repair costs — cain and lane escaped, hands woven, lips straining not to laugh. 

how bizarre it was, the way his wings clashed against the rushing breeze, jingling and whistling on impact, her skirt flapping around her knees, his roasry pressing into the palm of her unflinching hand, an image of absurdity that could lull even the harshest of critics. 

but the question still remains, lingering like frail white stars — will the angel forsake the girl, or will the girl doom him to damnation?

[multifandomfanficss]

Stuck With You

Adrian Chase/Vigilante x Reader

Adrian Chase Masterlist

Prompt: When the team sticks their newest member with Vigilante, everyone feels bad for you, but you’re grateful to have him around when you run into something from your past and lose your cool.

Warnings: panic attacks, human experimentation, referenced child abuse

A/N: I found a couple lines of dialogue in my drafts that I never did anything with and I had the writing bug today so I decided to finally make something with it! I’ll crosspost it on my AO3 adriansglasses as well. Hope you enjoy!

“(L/N), you’re with Vigilante.” Harcourt says, at the beginning of the meeting.

“You’re really gonna stick the newest person with that psycho?” John asks.

“You don’t need to be mean to Adrian just because he’s not here.” Leota starts.

“I would say it to his face too. He’d probably just laugh and call me his 4th best friend.” John retorts.

You hadn’t been with the team for long. This was your first mission with them. After a mission gone too out of control, Waller sent you to the middle of nowhere Evergreen, Washington. You thought she’d sent you here because the environment would be less hectic, but the longer you’re there, the more you realize she probably sent you here because everyone on this team is either highly traumatized or in need of more experience. She was trying to put the training wheels back on. From what you’d been told by the team’s top conspiracy theorist, Christopher Smith, this team was originally supposed to be an expendable scapegoat, but they ended up saving the world. You had no idea what to believe at this point.

“What’s up with Vigilante?” You ask, wondering why this was all such a hot topic. You hadn’t known him for long. He seemed a little odd, but overall fine. If you were being honest you actually kind of liked him. He was sweet and funny, often without trying. There was this comforting air about him and you didn’t really know why. He was a good fighter and you’d be lying if you said you didn’t think he was at least a little bit cute.

“He’s a little…” Chris started moving his finger in a circular motion, trying to insinuate that Adrian was crazy.

“He can’t be that bad.” You smile.

Suddenly Adrian comes running into the old video store tripping over one of his shin guards that wasn’t on properly. He sits down and fastens it.

“Sorry I’m late, guys. They kept me late at the restaurant and then when I was trying to put on my suit in the car I accidentally ran a red light and usually I would kill somebody for that, but I mean I think the more important thing is that I didn’t run over the old lady crossing the street! She was totally fine and I know she’s alive because she screamed at me…I’ve never seen an old lady use to many swear words. It was kind of awesome! Anyway what did I miss?”

“You put on your suit while driving?” Leota asks.

“Yup.” He gives a straight face nod. Adrian often had a way about him, as if what he was thinking should be obvious to other people, when in fact, it was not obvious to most people most of the time.

“You amaze me.” Harcourt says, sarcastically.

“Thank you.” Adrian smiles, not catching her sarcasm.

She rolls her eyes, sighing.

———————————————————————

Later on that night you and Adrian found yourselves walking through a series of tunnels.

“John, I think we might be lost.” You spoke into your coms, hoping he can help you from the van.

“I can’t even hear you in my earpiece and I’m right next to you. I think we lost the signal.” Adrian walks in silence for a few seconds before adding, “I’m sorry you got stuck with me.” He looks at the ground, sad.

“What are you talking about?”

“I know they stuck you with me. Nobody ever really chooses to be my partner.” He lightly kicks a rock, pretending not to be bothered.

“They did pair us up, but that doesn’t mean I was disappointed.” You smile.

“Really? Why would you want me?”

“Well first of all, you’re a great fighter. You were also the first person to attempt to be my friend. I’d trust you in the field over anyone.”

“Really?” You can hear the surprise in his voice.

“Yeah.” You let out a soft giggle. “Why are you so surprised that I like you?”

“Usually everyone just tells me to shut up or fuck off.”

“Well I’m not everyone.” You nudge him playfully as you walk.

Soon you come upon a door. It’s a little rusted, but Adrian shoots the lock off and you’re able to break in.

“What is this place?” He asks.

As soon as you walk inside you see the tubes, the files, the devices, the tables, the symbols. You know exactly what this is. This is an old facility for the for the group that made you leave your old job, the mission that ruined your life. You see files on the table, files no doubt full of details on the children they were experimenting on. The group would take orphaned children or children who were abandoned and unwanted, kids who had no one to protect them, and they would experiment on them. They were human trials to try to find new ways of making superheroes. This must have been one of their old abandoned facilities. Despite the lab being inactive, just the sight of it was still enough to send you into a spiral.

Your heart starts beating rapidly as you grow dizzy. You look down at your shaking hands. You’re starting to lose control of your breathing.

“I- I can’t-“ You walk backwards out of the room, starting to hyperventilate.

“Woah. Hey, what’s going on? Are you having a panic attack?” Adrian slowly puts his hands out towards you. He’s a little unsure of what to do.

“I’ve seen this before!” Your entire world is spinning as your start to cry. You can’t stop thinking about the awful things you saw when you snuck into their active facility earlier this year. Those poor children. Part of you was starting to wonder if Waller put you on this team for a reason. You should have known better than to think she was giving you a break. Waller always had some sort of fucked up motive that only worked for herself hidden up her sleeve. “I can’t fucking breathe!” You sob, sucking in air.

“Tender nice touching.” Adrian slowly approached you, patting your shoulder. You needed pressure on your body. You felt like you were slipping away from earth and you needed to be held down.

“Can I have a hug?” You asked, quietly.

“You want a hug?” He asked, his voice just as quiet. He was speaking softly to not startle you further.

“Yeah…”

“I think I can do that.“ He smiles, slowly bringing you into his arms. A little loose at first, he tightened the hug as you melted into him.

“I’m sorry- I- I just…I know what the did here and- and-“ Adrian shushes you as you begin to stutter, your mind moving much faster than your mouth is able to.

“You’re okay. You’re safe. I’ve got you. Just breathe with me. Don’t focus on anything else, but your breathing okay? Can you feel me breathing?” He rubs your back as you cry into his arms. You nod. “Okay, good. Just…just follow that.” He sighs and then focuses on making his own breathing something you can follow.

“Sometimes it’s hard for me to know what people on the team want because I know Chris doesn’t wanna look weak and Harcourt would kill me if I touched her, so I try to be careful. I just don’t wanna upset you guys more, but if you want me hold you I can keep doing that. Just let me know what you need and I’ll do it.” He says, softly.

“Can you just keep talking?” You ask. The sound of his voice is soothing and grounding.

“You want me to keep talking?” He smiles. “You’re in luck. I’m actually really good at talking. So good, in fact, that people are constantly asking me to shut up. So uh… What can I talk about? Oh! I know. So I have this friend at work. His name is Taylor. Well, he says we’re not friends, but he texts me all time time asking me to help cover his shifts and I would only trust a friend enough to ask them for that, so I think we’re friends. Anyway, so Taylor walked in this morning and…”

The longer Adrian rambles on the better you feel. The pressure of his body on yours and his voice slowly bring you back to earth. Eventually you find yourselves walking back through the tunnels, hand in hand, retracing your steps as he guides you back to the van to regroup. He keeps you distracted with silly stories the entire walk back.

You don’t know what the rest of your team was talking about. Adrian was the best partner you could have had.

[aluhnim]

Hello!! When you start a comic, how do you go about deciding your panelling layouts?? If this is too big of an ask for covid brain, how about your favorite song of the moment / a song that really inspires you?? I hope you feel better soon!

I was searching around for an old write up I did for some Original Character Tournament folks who were interested in my thoughts on panels and layouts. To try and answer your question, I go off of vibe now that I’ve made a LOT of comics. However, as much as it doesn’t seem like it at times, I do typically stay as “conventional” as possible to make sure my readers are still following the plot. I make a lot of adjustments along the way. Smarter layouts allow me to draw less, and drawing less is better for me in the long run! It’ll allow me to put more time in other places of the comic.

Anyway, here’s my write up back in the day that’ll hopefully answer some comic drafting questions!

More conventional paneling is a necessary stepping stone because you know your reader won’t get lost and the structure will have you more focused on flow and pacing. It seems remarkably easy to do comics with more “static” or traditional panel layouts but they work for a reason. There’s no real need to break out of something that works, unless you want to! Breaking out of the structure can really add some OOMPH to your important pages.

Some tips, note that these have been my preferences and some definitions don’t quite match their descriptors.

Bleed

I consider open panels or panels that stretch out beyond the edge of the page to be considered bleeds. They’re simple ways to make you feel like your not just sticking within your margins and making your page feel less static without much extra effort. Manga does this quite often, and Western American comics, especially during action packed moments or large splashes.

Some examples of things bleeds can do:

- They can also be used as transitions between pages (first panel bleeding in, last panel bleeding out).

- They can be used to interrupt or add a beat to a moment. Although the example below is mostly bleeds, you can see the one full panel at the bottom stands out because it’s not like the others. A subtle beat.

- They can also just be used to extend a panel to make it bigger. That seems obvious, but larger panels do make people spend a bit more time on them, regardless if there is text or not. Though, “more time” means probably several milliseconds or even a few seconds more than usual.

- Collaging with a bleed is a really great way to think beyond panels and open the space. You will be spending more time thinking of how much you can cram in along with the flow of how your text is going to lead through a series of images.

- Removing panel borders can really open a space and allow for more room without having to go above and beyond the ideas of comics and panels. (sorry, gale galligan is just good)

Gutters

The space between panels is almost just as important as the panel itself. That’s where readers and inferring actions and time. You can only control so much of what the reader is doing between their eye shifting between panels, which is why composition within panels and clarity are so important.

Gutters can also be played with! A simple example is changing your gutters from white to all black. It can be a subtle shift in time, a transition to a new space.

Even the amount of space between panels leaves an idea of time! I think webtoons/manhwa really work well with the gutter space, leaving you to physically scroll and feel the effects of time passing with the amount of empty space you encounter.

It’s important to understand that the gutter has a lot more to do with reader imagination, and your goal is to have them understand that the next panel is somehow plausible.

THIS SCENE EMFIELDS DID IS VERY FUCKING GOOD. TIME, SPACE, GO OOOOOOFFFF KING

Panels themselves can be a part story!

This one is a difficult thing to write for, since I feel like there isn’t many examples out there. There are very structural examples of panels out there, like Watchman. While the 9 panel grid was intentional, it also was likely the only way to deal with Alan Moore’s script effectively without missing details. The panels themselves don’t ENHANCE the story, but a means to an end.

But it’s also an incredibly good example of how conventional comics paneling can still be effective, especially when you start breaking that mold just a little bit.

But then you have comics like M. Dean’s “Baby fat”. Where the comic paneling itself never strays from its original structure, but is indicative of the story itself, representing tiles, mirrors, patterns.

Or Robert Hunter’s “The New Ghost” which he uses circular motifs and has circular panels representing the telescopes sight line.

Predicting Reader Navigation

These are my rules of thumb when doing general sight reading panel by panel.

1. Text is what people gravitate to first. It’s the context needed to approach the next panel.

2. Faces are next, this provides context to what the subject is feeling.

3. Familiar people/animals/objects and SFX.

4. Everything else!

This is an example of sight reading notes I gave to my friend Holocene when we were collaborating.

[ampheenix]

If we stayed connected, would I be forced to change?

TAGS: mizuena, getting together, flirting, texting, fluff and angst, 5k

SUMMARY:

Wait a second. Ena froze.

There was… there was no way she had accidentally posted that sketch of Mizuki on her social media account, was there? That was insane, she would never make such a stupid mistake, so matter how sleep-addled her brain was.

Please let it be posted to the art account, please let it be posted to the art account, Ena begged to herself. That she could deal with - hardly anyone would see it anyway, she thought bitterly.

Terrified thoughts roaring in her mind, she opened the app, frantically wishing that her internet would load faster, fuck!

And then… it loaded… and Ena sat there, aghast.

---

Or, Ena accidentally uploads an incredibly detailed sketch of Mizuki to her public social media, instead of the Nightcord server.

…and it’s not nearly as disastrous as she’d expected.

Mizuki had been acting… different, lately.

Ena chewed on the end of her pencil, brows furrowed in suspicion.

She had always been the teasing type, but she seemed to have upped the ante as of late. A little wink here, a little smirk there, just a touch more flirty than the usual. And especially with Ena.

The most irritating thing about it was that no one in Nightcord had even noticed the subtle changes in her behaviour – or if they had, they hadn’t said anything, which was even worse!

Maybe she was just being paranoid, or overthinking it… but agh, it was so obvious!! Why wasn’t anyone pointing it out, raising an eyebrow, anything?!

Hell, the other day… all of them were in voice chat and in response to Ena making a comment about how tired her hands were from sketching, and how she wished they would cramp up less, Mizuki had been all “and here I thought you were good with your hands!”

That playful tone, commented with a flirty wink as she rested her chin on her hand, had made Ena’s mouth drop open immediately.

Then, after a brief factory reset, she had complained with a hint of pink in her cheeks, being all “ha ha, very funny!! My hands are actually so sore, the least you could do is appreciate my efforts… and at least I’m meeting my deadlines, unlike you!”

And sure, Mizuki said stuff like that all the time, but – argh!

Ena buried her head in her hands, flushing madly. It was different now, for some reason!! And she just couldn’t put her finger on why exactly!

Well, whatever, Ena huffed to herself.

There was no use thinking so hard about it, and stress was bad for the skin, so unless she wanted to break out she needed her thoughts to shut up.

With a tired sigh, Ena ran a hand through her hair, mussing up the silky brown strands. She attempted to turn her train of thought back to the drawing she was supposed to be working on.

Right, so she had a basic head-and-torso draft here… But, hmmm, maybe she could try using this perspective instead, to highlight the silhouette and make it stand out more…

She erased guidelines and pencilled in soft features, bright eyes and a head tilted just so, a hand raised in the beginnings of a wave, fingers delicately posed.

Ena lost herself in the sketch, pencil strokes filling the page. Absent mindedly, she added a touch of lace there on the skirt, soft lips raised in a hint of a smile, long legs, a cute bow and long-lashed eyes…

A black fineliner captured the details, the way light pink strands cascaded in a ponytail over her shoulder, creamy skin and soft cheekbones, a freckle on her elbow and chipped nail polish on her ring finger…

Before she knew it, the birds outside her window were singing, the sky was starting to lighten outside, and the subject of her thoughts was staring out at her from the page.

Ena nibbled on her lip, frustrated now. Well… at the very least, it had turned out an excellent piece. Considering she saw Mizuki so often, it wasn’t a surprise Ena had captured her essence so perfectly.

Maybe… Eugh, it would no doubt be embarrassing, but it really was such a great sketch…

Before Ena could think too hard about it (her spur-of-the-moment decision likely influenced by the bags under her eyes and lack of sleep in her brain) she was pulling up the camera app on her phone and snapping a photo.

Within a moment, it was uploaded to the Nightcord server.

“Practice sketch!” Ena hurriedly typed after. She couldn’t let Mizuki get a big head, after all. She had just happened to draw her by mistake, it’s not like she had put a lot of effort in or anything!

And with those comforting lies, Ena was out for the count – she hadn’t had caffeine at all in the past six hours, it was a wonder she’d lasted so long really… and she could already feel her eyes starting to droop.

Stretching her arms back and letting out a huge yawn, she stumbled into her bed, barely managing to yank the covers over her head before plummeting into dreamland.

When she awoke, hours later, it was to the sound of loud dinging.

Head still heavy on the pillow and eyes sealed shut with exhaustion, Ena raised an arm and slapped the snooze button on her clock – so sue her, she wanted some more sleep after an all-nighter.

But for some reason, the dinging didn’t stop. Already irritated, Ena managed to sit up in her bed, rubbing at her sandy eyes. God, why wouldn’t it shut up? She was so tired, shit… maybe this was her karma for her terrible sleep schedule…

Blinking bleary eyes, Ena’s vision slowly came into focus, enough for her to recognize her phone vibrating on her desk. She didn’t remember setting an alarm on there… was someone calling her?

Suddenly, Ena felt wide awake, shoving back her covers as she jumped to her feet. Because that dinging… that was her social media notification tone, wasn’t it?

Oh god… was Mizuki annoyed that she had tried drawing her? Did they all hate her sketch or something? Ena didn’t think she’d said anything weird, all she’d done was send the image on the group chat.

Ena grabbed her phone and collapsed into her desk chair, sinking into the soft cushions  with a sense of dread as it unlocked. Huh, it was noon already? Wait- wait a minute, 99+ notifications on her home screen, what the hell?!

All of them read the same way, pretty much. So-and-so liked and commented on her post, which would be fine, except she hadn’t posted on her social media last night.

Wait a second.

Ena’s mind froze, going into overdrive.

There was… there was no way she had accidentally posted that sketch of Mizuki on her social media account, was there? That was insane, out of the damn question, she would never make such a stupid mistake no matter how sleep-addled her brain was!

Please let it be posted to the art account, please let it be posted to the art account, Ena begged to herself. That she could deal with - hardly anyone would see it anyway, she thought bitterly.

Terrified thoughts roaring in her mind, she opened the app, frantically wishing that her internet would load faster, dammit!

And then… it loaded… and Ena sat there, aghast.

Because of all the horrible nightmare scenarios that had been rocketing around her mind, this- this hadn’t even been on the list, it made no sense, it- what the fuck???

Because yeah, she had accidentally uploaded her art on her social media, the one that actually had followers, the one where she posted cute selfies of herself.

Which ordinarily, would be the most humiliating experience ever, as it would probably get like fifty likes and one or two nice comments made out of pity, and Ena would never live it down.

But… her art of Mizuki, which she had posted on her public social media…

It had gone viral. Insanely viral. A level of viral that none of her selfies, although popular, had ever reached.

A shaky, disbelieving smile started to spread across Ena’s face as she read the comment section, filled with praise to the point where it was ridiculous. People… people loved all the small details in her drawing, the care taken with each line, the small additions of colour that really brought life to the sketch…

They’d noticed how much effort she’d put into making Mizuki feel real. In not drawing her as some generic airbrushed cute girl, but depicting her as a living, breathing person.

Ena could hardly believe it. She scrolled and scrolled through the comments, looking for one backhanded compliment, one negative remark, literally anything.

Sure, there were a handful of toxic comments as per usual, but the amount of people responding to those comments and arguing with them, calling them out on their bullshit and cutting them down….

With a jolt, Ena realized tears were prickling in her eyes. She sniffed, rubbing at her eyes with her sleeve and hardly able to believe any of it, smile bright enough to light up the sky, because-

Her dad had been wrong. So, so wrong.

And she’d finally proved that beyond a shadow of a doubt, or so it felt like it. People LOVED her art, they really did! This was proof!

There was just one thing niggling at the back of Ena’s mind, as although all these strangers adoring her art and heaping praise upon it was the best feeling in the world…

Well, there were three people’s opinions that she valued more than any stranger’s.

A lump of anxiety in the back of her throat (but a small, unshakeable smile still on her face despite it), she exited the app and opened up Nightcord.

There were 3 unread messages in their group chat, and… 1 DM from Mizuki.

Steeling herself, Ena opened the group chat first.

10:09 AM

K: @enanan, your drawing of mizuki seems to have really taken off! I’m glad :)

10:32 AM

Yuki: It’s a good sketch. Better than her usual art. I’m not surprised.

10:35 AM

K: I wonder why it was posted at 5am though? perhaps she stayed up all night

K: if you did, hope you’re having a good sleep, ena

K: you deserve it after your hard work

Ena initially felt her smile brighten from Kanade’s kind words – supportive, as always. As she read, her lips twisted at Mafuyu’s backhanded compliment, but oh well… that was practically a standing ovation, coming from her.

Ena typed back a quick appreciative response, not letting Yuki’s snide words slide but still appreciating the compliment overall.

 And then… Mizuki.

Her finger hovered over the chat button, paralysed by indecision. She almost.. didn’t want to know what her best friend thought of her sketch. Everyone else loved it, but- well, what if Mizuki hated it?

What if she was irritated that Ena hadn’t asked first before drawing her, or was annoyed that she hadn’t gotten it quite right? Or angry that she had posted it publicly without asking??

Lost in a turmoil of negative thoughts, Ena didn’t notice her finger accidentally touching the screen and opening the chat. She jolted with surprise, eyes immediately darting to read the screen.

5:32 AM

Amia: :)

Wh- what the hell is that supposed to mean?!?!

All anxiety immediately left Ena’s mind, scowling as she typed back a response.

1:13 PM

Enanan: What the hell is that supposed to mean ?! (╬▔皿▔)╯

Just say u love my drawing or say u hate it like a normal person u weirdo

Minutes passed without a response, despite Amia’s status remaining stubbornly bright green and online. What gives?

Ena felt indecision return to her thoughts.

Maybe… shit, she really should have asked first!!

1:20 PM

Enanan: btw sorry I didn’t ask u first or anything, I actually didn’t mean to post it

I was so sleep deprived I accidentally did that instead of sending it to the gc lmao

Ena fidgeted as she sat back in her chair, glancing to where the sketch sat on her desk. It looked the same as it had last night, still maybe one of the best pieces she’d drawn… well, if Mizuki didn’t like it, that was her loss!

Ena huffed to herself, folding her arms. It really didn’t matter that much, it was just a drawing. Maybe she should just go back to sleep, or something…

Then, she heard her phone ding with the Nightcord notification tone, and she instantly grabbed her phone, nearly throttling it in her hands as she willed it to unlocked faster.

1:25 PM

Amia: oh

that makes sense, u would never post ur art to ur selfie acc on purpose

Ena hesitated before responding.

Something felt… off, for some reason.

Mizuki wasn’t using emojis, and maybe it was just the lack of tone indicators but – it felt like she was upset about something.

1:26 PM

Enanan:

well duh!! (ノ｀Д)ノ

still so shocked it blew up like that tho

guess ppl loved the way I drew u lol

Ena typed that last sentence with a sense of boldness, wondering if Mizuki would pick up what she was putting down.

That she had tried really, really hard to capture Mizuki in her element, and that the main reason people loved it was that she had succeeded.

Anyway, she had absolutely no clue what Mizuki was seemingly upset about… hopefully it wasn’t because of her.

1:28 PM

Amia: mmm

congrats on that, ur art’s finally getting loads of attention even tho it was on accident haha

Ena frowned. Okay, now she was sure something was wrong.

1:29 PM

Enanan: hey are u allg?

I might just be overthinking but u sound upset

R u jealous now that I’m famous ♪(´▽｀)

1:30 PM

Amia: you WISH

Just u wait one of my edits is gonna become “that one edit” on tiktok any day now

( •̀ ω •́ )✧

Ena let out a sigh of relief. Okay, phew, maybe Mizuki was just tired or something, or maybe she had been overthinking this entire time.

1:31 PM

Amia: and btw dw, I’m fine

was just surprised ig

1:31 PM

Enanan: surprised at what?

With a shock, Ena realizes something, scrolling up their messages.

Mizuki’s odd tone started after… after Ena had told her posting the drawing publicly had been an accident.

Was she disappointed? Shit, Ena hadn’t meant to like, imply something about her appearance or anything like that, Mizuki was stunning both in-person and within the drawing and she knew it.

…Right?

1:31 PM

Amia: doesn’t matter

ur art rocks

it’s about time ppl noticed :3

Ena didn’t want to assume… maybe she hadn’t even said anything wrong.

Mizuki seemed fine now, so she shouldn’t push it.

1:32 PM

Enanan: since when r u this supportive

ur always saying my art would be nothing w/out ur editing skills (* ￣︿￣)

1:33 PM

Amia: and it would be

the sketch u posted today didn’t need any editing tho

srsly it’s actually so good ^0^

even yuki thought so, that’s how yk it’s genuine lmao

Ena smiled with pride, cheeks flushing. So Mizuki had liked her sketch after all… well, of course she did. Mizuki always liked her art – although she made fun of it too much for Ena’s liking.

1:35 PM

Enanan: stop ur being too nice its weirding me out

ur right abt the yuki part thoo (*￣▽￣*)ブ

and anyways idk what ur on abt, my art is always better w ur editing

yin and yang or whatever

1:36 PM

Amia: look who’s being weirdly nice NOW

1:36 PM

Enanan: TRAITOR

YOU TRICKED ME

u always make me say the stupidest things w/out realizing omfg

1:36 PM

Amia: o(*°▽°*)o

all part of the charm

Ena let out a light laugh as she rolled her eyes, resting her head on her hand.

1:37 PM

Enanan: please, what charm

You’re about as charming as a stink bug (¬_¬ )

1:38 PM

Amia: ur so cruel enaaaaa

can’t believe I’m friends w you（︶^︶）

I gotta say tho, I’m surprised how many details u got right on ur sketch

I mean u even got the freckle on my elbow (=•ω＜=)ρ⌒☆

Ena paused, feeling her cheeks redden. Well that was embarrassing, Mizuki had noticed? Jeez, it wasn’t like it was on purpose…

1:40 PM

Enanan: well what were u expecting, I’m an artist

It’s my job to notice those thingsss

1:41

Amia: sure but like wow, to that extent? surpassed my expectations enanan, didn’t know u were so observant ~(￣▽￣)~*

u even drew my fave ribbon with the fraying on the side, and the exact shade of nail polish I wear ~ impressive!

Ena buried her head in her hands, EXTREMELY regretting the level of detail she’d put into the sketch. Mizuki would never let it go now, ugh… this was humiliating…

1:43 PM

Enanan: keep talking that way and I won’t be sketching u again anytime soon

o(一︿一+)o

1:44 PM

Amia: awww am I embarrassing u

it’s not MY fault u drew me so well

then again the source material  was gorgeous already so it’s not like it could’ve turned out bad in the first place <3

Ena let out a heavy sigh… Mizuki was kind of right, in a way. She was stunning, after all, it’d have been difficult to mess up a drawing with her as the subject.

1:45 PM

Enanan: should’ve known you’d get a big ego from this…

1:45 PM

Amia: you didn’t deny it

:3

1:46 PM

Enanan: …

Stfu ￣へ￣

1:46 PM

Amia: HAHAHA I KNEW IT (≧∇≦)

Ena bit her lip, considering. A small, teasing smile started to creep across her face.

1:46 PM

Enanan: I don’t get why ur surprised honestly

 Ur literally gorgeous

1:49 PM

Amia: ur being sarcastic aren’t u… ur so cruel enanan ~(>_<。)＼

Ena frowned.

1:49 PM

Enanan: no I’m not u dummy

Ur cute and u own it, idk why ur always trying to get me to admit that

1:50 PM

Amia: oh stop being silly, ik ur not being srs

There’s no need to be so mean ( ˘︹˘ )

Ena’s frown deepened. What? Ugh, since when was Mizuki so bad at just taking the compliment?

Then again, it was true that Ena rarely, if ever, complimented her… well, she didn’t state it aloud, anyway. Mizuki always knew what she meant whenever she was being stubborn about admitting something, so there never any need to say the praise out loud.

Had she really never outright given Mizuki praise before? Ena’s brows furrowed.

This was embarrassing, but… she should keep pushing, otherwise she’d feel like a bad friend.

1:51 PM

Enanan: jeez, ur so bad at taking a compliment

my sketch reflected how pretty u are u dummy, I didn’t put so much effort into it just for u to refuse to admit ur cute all of a sudden

Ena waited for a response, feeling her cheeks warm. Why was Mizuki taking so long to respond?

The three dots indicating her friend typing appeared at the beginning of the screen for a few seconds, and then vanished.

Ena raised an eyebrow.

The three dots appeared once more, then… gone.

After what felt like ages, a new message finally popped up.

1:59 PM

Amia: well obviously I know I’m cute, but it took me off guard to hear you say it yourself, enanan (〜￣▽￣)〜 so bold!

2:00 PM

Enanan: idk I just realized I’d never actually told u upfront and I felt like an asshole

jeez, don’t tell me ur getting an even bigger head now…

2:01 PM

Amia: aha, so that’s it! I was wondering why you were being so honest, it’s unlike you

And how can I not get a big head when I’m told how pretty I am by my dear Enanan? ~

O(*￣▽￣*)o

2:01 PM

Enanan: I’m always honest, screw you!!

Ena felt heat spread across her face despite her annoyance, smiling like an idiot. What was all this about “dear Enanan?” Mizuki was so embarrassing, god.

Not seeing her friend typing, she swiped off the app, going to check her social media again.

Ena’s eyes promptly bugged out of her head. IT HAD DOUBLED IN LIKES?! This was insane… at this rate, she wouldn’t be surprised if her friends from her old art class stumbled across it.

She swiped back to her chat with Mizuki, typing out a message.

2:04 PM

Enanan: good god, did u see my social media

It’s blowing up now even more than before

maybe I should draw u more often lmao

2:05 PM

Amia: I did see it, it’s only natural it should blow up so much when I’m the subject :3

as they say in the west, u should draw me like one of ur french girls enanan – bet that would get loads of likes too ( •̀ ω •́ )✧

Almost instantaneously, heat blossomed across Ena’s cheeks, and she buried her head in her hands for what felt like the third time in the last fifteen minutes. Mizuki, damn it – how was she not embarrassed, making jokes like that?!

2:07 PM

Enanan: you are incorrigible

2:07 PM

Amia: I don’t know the meaning of the word >:)

Ena let out a laugh, tapping away on her phone.

2:08 PM

Enanan: anyway, last time I checked if I drew you like “one of my french girls” I’d get banned u idiot

2:08 PM

Amia: oh, so if that wasn’t a problem, you’d do it then?

2:10 PM

Enanan: I’m not even going to respond to that

ur the worst

I never see u teasing K or yuki like that (* ￣︿￣)

There was a suspicious silence for a few minutes, while Ena slowly realized something.

Why was it only her that was the subject of Mizuki’s ruthless flirting?

2:15 PM

Amia: why, they’re nowhere near as fun to tease, enanan ♪(´▽｀)

And besides, if I tried flirting with yuki like that, I think I wouldn’t survive it – she’d give me a look so icy-cold I’d freeze 〒▽〒

Well, that made sense… but was that really all there was to it? Ena paused, hesitant.

2:16 PM

Enanan: guess that makes sense

I actually have no idea how kanade would react if u tried that on her

she might just stare at u silently

2:17 PM

Amia: I wouldn’t dare tease kanade like that, I have too much respect for her :3

2:18 PM

Enanan: don’t think I didn’t miss that implication…

what a shame, guess if u don’t respect me I won’t be able to draw u again

2:19 PM

Amia: NONO PLS IM SORRY

2:19 PM

Enanan: nope, too late

ur loss

2:19 PM

Amia: （；´д｀）ゞ

why have u forsaken me..

2:20 PM

Enanan: if u don’t want me to be mean, then don’t insult me to my face!! >:(

2:20 PM

Amia: I take it back… I respect you so, so much enanan, I am but a humble servant before her queen o(*￣▽￣*)ブ

2:20 PM

Enanan: that’s more like it

2:20 PM

Amia: all I can do is kneel before ur throne and kiss ur feet in apology (；′⌒`)

Ena grimaced.

2:21 PM

Enanan: ok ew no need to go that far

2:21 PM

Amia: well, perhaps in apology I could kiss somewhere else then (○｀ 3′○)

Almost instantaneously, heat spread like a rash across her cheeks. God, Ena didn’t know how much more of this she could take.

2:21 Pm

Enanan: I am actually going to scalp you

2:21 PM

Amia: …on the cheek, of course!

gosh, ur so dirty minded! :0

Flushing, Ena bit her lip in hesitation, before finally addressing the elephant in the room that only appeared to be visible to her.

2:22 PM

Enanan: okay seriously, what is it with the teasing?? (╬▔皿▔)╯

I swear ur doing it way more than u used to

and the others don’t even notice for some reason- literally why?!

2:22 PM

Amia: I already told u why! It’s fun :3

2:23 PM

Enanan: what, do u just love flustering me or smth?? Is that ur idea of fun ( ˘︹˘ )

For some reason, after that, Mizuki stopped responding for a while. Ena fully thought her friend had gone to eat lunch or something, and turned back to her sketch.

Then, after what felt like ages, her phone pinged.

2:59 PM

Amia: maybe

I mean, I didn’t realize u got so flustered purely by my silly teasing (╯▽╰ )

Fuck!!

Ena shoved her sketchbook to the side, grip tightening on her phone. Her cheeks felt hot all of a sudden, as she realized that Mizuki had no idea that her flirting had been having such an effect on her.

And now she knew just how flustered she’d been!! Ena grimaced- this was humiliating. She instantly went into damage control mode.

2:59 PM

Enanan: I don’t get that flustered, don’t flatter urself ( ˘︹˘ )

I get like… idk

The normal amount of flustered

whatever that is

Ena worried at her lip, anxiety making her throat feel tight. That response was fine, right? Mizuki wasn’t going to think she was weird, was she?

Her eyes didn’t stray from the three dots bouncing on the bottom of the screen, finally relenting when a message came through.

3:02 PM

Amia: real slick ena <3

ur not falling for me are u (=•ω＜=)ρ⌒☆

Mizuki had completely gotten the wrong idea, how embarrassing!! Jeez, there was no coming back from this one… Humiliated, Ena tried to swallow down the lump in her throat, and with a jolt, realized that tears were starting to well up in her eyes.

She was… she was a bit too invested. Why did she care so much about this? Why did she feel so damn anxious? It was embarrassing, but- but not that embarrassing.

Ena leaned back in her chair as she pushed her phone away, hands fisted tightly in her skirt. Her gaze was heavy as it rested on the floor. Her thoughts began to unravel like a ball of thread.

There was no way Mizuki’s joke just now was true, was there? Ena’s deathgrip on her skirt tightened. That was silly, there was just no way- like sure, she cared about her, Mizuki was her best friend after all, but falling for her? Pfft.

Plus, Ena wasn’t gay. She hadn’t really had any crushes on guys before, but that was normal, wasn’t it? She hadn’t liked any girls either, so it evened out.

She was straight, she always had been, jeez. Mizuki was just making some stupid joke.

So why was Ena… why was she close to tears? Her lip was nearly being worried to pieces, humiliation spreading in scarlet across her cheeks, and all the while her heart, it- it hurt.

She felt physical pain in her chest, along with a sense of despair. Ena let out a heavy sob, and then another one, breath starting to come faster.

She- god, she really did like Mizuki, didn’t she. She liked her best friend.

Which meant she was one of them, and that she was… hell, she was practically a pervert. Disgusting. She let out a choked cry, fingers digging into her arms.

They were such close friends, fuck, had Ena been creeping on her this entire time? She was- she was disgusting, sickening, and such an awful person- why was Mizuki even friends with her? She definitely wouldn’t be after this mess.

Mizuki was going to find out the truth, and then she was going to lose her. Slowly but surely, tears started to trickle down Ena’s cheeks, as her arms came up, cradling her head as she rocked back and forth.

What was she going to do?

In the midst of a breakdown, she barely heard the buzz of her phone. She scrabbled at her desk for it, grabbing it and pulling it to her chest as her eyes frantically scanned the screen.

3:15 PM

Amia: enaaaaa where did u go 💔

when I said falling I didn’t mean literally fall, did u lose consciousness lmao

Ena let out a strangled sound that was half-sob, half-laughter. She scrubbed at her tears with her sleeve, watching as her best friend continued to type.

3:16 PM

Amia: or is it true that u have fallen for me after all ~(￣▽￣)~*

wow maybe ur so in love that u fainted after seeing my message

well my dear enanan, just say the word and we can elope togetherヽ(￣ω￣(￣ω￣〃)ゝ

Maybe… maybe Mizuki wouldn’t be as disgusted as she’d thought. She’d always been open-minded, after all.

Ena’s nails dug into her skin, as she squeezed her eyes tight shut, trying to get the pain to distract her from her stupid, stupid thoughts. That was ridiculous, she had to play it safe. She couldn’t risk it.

How to respond, how to respond…

3:18 PM

Enanan:  please, I wouldn’t marry you even if u held a gun to my head

you’d probably try to make me do all the chores and spend all your time sewing

3:18 PM

Amia: I’m not hearing a no! (*￣▽￣*)

and wow, u wound me… if anything, you’d make me do all the work and spend ur time preening in front of a mirror like a peacock! :3

Ena let out a stunned snort, a watery smile returning to her face. Mizuki wasn’t wrong.

3:19 PM

Enanan: well, even if we eloped I doubt ur the romantic type

I’d probably divorce u within a week bc you’d love ur outfit mannequin more than me

￣へ￣

3:19 PM

Amia: lies and slander!!

I would be SO romantic

3:19 PM

Enanan: yeah right

3:19 PM

Amia: well, that’s rich coming from u considering I was able to fluster u with my teasing (★ ω ★)

3:20 PM

Enanan: that’s different

3:20 PM

Amia: how exactly? :3

Ena clenched her jaw, frustrated. God, why was Mizuki pushing this subject so much? Why couldn’t they just move on and forget all of that had ever happened?

3:20 PM

Enanan: it just is

Ur my best friend it makes sense that you’d tease me like that, even if it drives me insane(╬▔皿▔)╯

3:20 PM

Amia: enaaaaa ur so dense

I’m not teasing u like that just bc ur my best friend

( ˘︹˘ )

What was Mizuki on about now? Ena knew the teasing wasn’t because “she had funny reactions,” there were plenty of people Mizuki could tease if that was the case, so why her?

3:21 PM

Enanan: well then why

Just be honest u dunce >:(

3:21 PM

Amia: u want me to be honest?

idk if I can be :>

maybe first u should be honest about why my teasing flusters u so much

Slowly, Ena’s eyes widened, static filling her head. What the hell. What the actual hell was this. Did Mizuki know?

Had Mizuki known the whole time, even though Ena had only realized a few minutes ago?

With dawning realization, she scrolled back up and reread her friend’s messages, but this time in a different light.

Mizuki… Mizuki couldn’t be honest about why she was teasing her, just like how Ena couldn’t be honest about why the teasing had flustered her. Did that mean…?

She took the leap, fingers shaking slightly.

3:23 PM

Enanan: mizuki

be honest rn

yk I won’t judge u for anything

If Ena was right, the situation was very, very mixed. Because on one hand, they’d both like eachother… like that… and the sheer idea had vicious butterflies attacking her stomach.

But on the other, it would mean Ena liked girls.

And she- she didn’t really know what to think about that. Or even where to begin thinking about that.

There was silence from Mizuki for a while, as she waited with bated breath. It was the longest twenty minutes of Ena’s life.

Her heart jumped in her throat as she finally saw that her friend was typing. Come on, come on… she couldn’t remember the last time she’d been this high-strung. Then the typing animation disappeared, and she slumped.

And after a twenty agonizing minutes that seemed to drag on for hours, she glared at her screen. Because Mizuki’s icon had changed to the little grey circle that indicated she was offline.

What the fuck?! Ena finally had the courage to make a move, hating herself all the while, and this was all she got?!

Fuming, she tossed her phone to the side, letting out a frustrated sound. She had given her the perfect opening! The stage was set, for god’s sake!

Maybe… shit, what if she’d misread the situation completely? Did Mizuki think she was weird? Was that why she was being ghosted?

Ena was sick of this. She needed to do something, anything, or she was going to lose it. Her eyes scanned her room, searching for a distraction.

Maybe she could try out a new makeup look? Try and style that pink skirt that was stubbornly refusing to pair with her other clothes? Or…

Her stomach grumbled, obnoxiously loudly, and she rolled her eyes. Okay, maybe should take care of her basic bodily functions first.

Everything else could wait.

And if Mizuki didn’t text back by nightfall, she was going to break into her stupidly pretty best friend’s house and force her at knifepoint to type out a response.

(Might add another chap to this if I get around to it lol)

[mybrainproblems]

hello, i'm finales georg...

i don't want to further clutter up the notes on this post while responding to the tags below but the persistence of the "finale is short/scenes are missing/extra ad break” conspiracies drives me absolutely bananas when i've watched the finale ten times and have posted about this A LOT trying to clear things up. (disclaimer that yes, i'm a goddamn destiel shipper but i care about Facts above all.)

ok but this is weird because i'd swear the episode was shorter (11 missing scenes!) but okay. maybe we all mandela effected ourselves into #beleving that. because it felt shorter. but i will die on the hill that it had another ad break. i understand this person has the thing #recorded with ads so i am thinking maybe different ad breaks in different idk time zones??? #because the finale did air an hour earlier in canada so maybe idk i am reaching here but maybe different states or whatever had different #ad breaks??? as for the last minute changes - wasn't the cover band asked for permission to use their version of carry on like a week before #the thing aired??? so even if the episode was 42 minutes and had no additional ad break - which i am side eying but lets say all was normal #i will always say they were changing thing until the absolute last minute (carry on my wayward son X 2 #the crew on the bridge which is not only giant 4th wall breaking but also wow they really got all those people in one place in times of #covid???) #anyway. tinfoil hat stays on sorry guys :/ (via @officialmisha)

short and snarky: there are plenty of real and sourced examples of network homophobia and scripted/directed destiel scenes being cut to point to. we don’t need to make this stuff up just bc the finale wasn’t what we wanted. so it’s not the mandela effect — it’s ppl repeating a conspiracy/rumor bc it supports their narrative and it’s easier and more fun to repeat something that supports a narrative they already believe (misha or something destiel was cut) vs the boring act of fact checking.

longer circumspect answer with links bc like many ppl i am in my debunking era and i rewatched "roblox_oof" last night.

like i said. i've watched the finale ten times. i’ve gone over the episode with a fine toothed comb and posted a detailed breakdown of timing marks on my blog. it’s actually extremely obvious where the ad breaks are once you know roughly where to look for them (they have a longer fade to black instead of a quick cut scene change). there’s no room for extra ad breaks and i think this conspiracy/rumor persists in part bc the episode feels so sparse in terms of cast and the fact that the episode’s momentum hits a barn post (and rebar) less than 20min into an hour-long programming block.

also i’m begging ppl to actually look at that timing mark post. it’s very straightforward and i spent a lot of time on it. i don’t care if ppl plagiarize it at this point if it means this conspiracy stops. i've got almost every second accounted for.

the "eleven missing scenes" that you're thinking of are probably from the finale script of questionable authenticity that @spnscripthunt acquired back in 2021 which can be found here. it's dated as the “final draft” from 11 sep 2020 and filming on 15x20 wrapped on 10 sep 2020. as noted at the bottom of this superwiki page "[the] script came from someone claiming to have been the person who did the closed captions for the show in Russia. There are some indications that it possibly may not be authentic, but this has not been confirmed."

if we go with the possibility that this was a transcript meant for subtitles, the "omitted" scenes were probably written but never filmed since it's the "final draft" and not a color revision (blue, green, yellow, etc). unfortunately, i’ve lost track of where i read it and a preliminary duckduckgo search isn’t bringing it up bc there's a program for script writing called final draft, but iirc the “final draft” version of a script is a transcript of what was filmed (e.g. there are parts of that 15x20 script that ended up being deleted scenes on the DVD). spnscripthunt also has an example of a confirmed final draft for 09x02 (funnily enough, also a dabb-penned ep). if anyone can confirm with a source that i have the purpose of the “final draft” version designation wrong, please let me know! i love being proven wrong with Facts.

i do want to acknowledge that the two “final drafts” do look different from each other and the 15x20 one doesn't look like a “real” final draft script since it lacks the revision/versioning dates that a script would normally have on the cover page. it could be that it was intended for subtitles; there's the chance it's been re-typed to anonymize it if there was anything indicating who the "owner" was, tho that seems a wee bit cloak and dagger to me. and again: it's considered of questionable authenticity. there are some things that don't quite line up but oh dear god i don't want to get even further out into the weeds than i already am.

i won't disagree that it's weird as hell that neoni only got asked about using their cover seven days prior to the episode airing (tiktok here). my personal theory is that they were hoping to get a more expensive song (maybe a zepp song, idk) and didn't manage to secure the rights in the end. again: this is pure conjecture on my part! but i could absolutely see someone working on the show hearing neoni’s cover and liking it and then maybe they were using it as a placeholder until it got down to the wire and they had to make a call/send the ep to networks. because yes, it is baffling they played a song and then a cover of it with only a 40 second break between. (i do actually really like the neoni cover! the placement is just weird and i think it could have worked if they had the kansas version at the beginning and closed with neoni's full cover.)

as to the 4th wall break COVID stuff: robert singer talked with variety magazine about filming the last two episodes and the logistics of filming during a pandemic. whether they should have been filming during a pandemic is a separate discussion but their use of office vs set pods, strict quarantining and daily testing meant that they had zero positive tests in the month they were filming (18 aug to 10 sep). so given all that, i personally don’t think it’s totally out of pocket to have everyone standing outdoors on a bridge for maybe an hour to get a drone shot of them together. (i won’t get into incubation periods and viral load, but if everyone tested negative that day and every day for a month prior, it was a fairly low risk scene to film outdoors and for all we know everyone was masked until the last possible second. there were plenty of outdoor masked protests in 2020 that weren't superspreader events.)

and before anyone brings up “but misha was in vancouver!” i know someone who looked into it and they said no dice, nothing matched up between the backgrounds in those pics and places in vancouver. his statements about “us” going back to set over the summer were pretty generic in hindsight and “we”/"us" could be him or the spn crew generally. unfortunately i’m not able to find those tweets but the use of “we” was likely so as not to give away he wouldn’t be returning to set. (bc we were absolutely casbaited!) and bc it comes up a lot: the "onion field pic" was from when they were filming 15x17 and was not taken while filming 15x19 and 15x20.

besides, it would be ridiculous to go through the financial and logistical headaches of bringing someone into the country to film during a pandemic, only to cut their scenes in the end! honestly, the script is pretty tight when the scenes are given so much breathing room! the only thing i could see being further cut down is The Monologue and even then, i don’t think there was any intent to cut it down given it was filmed in fairly long takes.

i’ve said it many times before, but i believe the finale was fucked long before they returned to set. walker got the green light in sep 2019 and it was being marketed heavily as a “follow on” show to spn given jared’s involvement. the demo they were courting for walker has little to no overlap with the demo for destiel fans — why would they want a finale that catered to a demo they weren't interested in courting? we just went through a historic double strike that exposed so much of the rot of business interests overriding creative vision. this isn't completely unfounded conjecture.

i will not apologize for the length of this bc i wanted to be thorough, but i do want to give context that i think the reason these conspiracies and rumors grind my gears so much is because anyone can fact check all of this. the truth is out there and absolutely none of it is that hard to find. the most time consuming/difficult part of this was finding someone who had a DVR’d copy of the finale from when it aired live and they actually found me themselves after i’d been low key asking around for a year!

and like. i get it. conspiracies are fun. but there are so many sourced instances of network homophobia and destiel being cut that it's like. why is this something folks are hanging onto? the cw is notorious for having upper level meddling with finales bc there's a follow-on show they want to shuffle fans along to and spn is no exception.

[neteyamshoney]

Similarities

(This was kinda, very loosely, inspired by the song My Ex's Bestfriend by MGK)

Hey y'all. I had this idea in my head for awhile and I'm currently drafting a Neteyam x OC AU but I just had to get this out. After I'm done with that one, I'll expand on this one-shot. For now, enjoy a little fluff with my favorite blue giant :) Gif is also not mine. (I'm working on making pretty pics for the AU pic if anyone has tips to get those super cute ones I see on here lol)

Neteyam Sully x f!OC

Warnings: tooth rotting fluff

Ever since he could remember, Lo’ak had known his older brother to be everything he was not.

Brave. Strong. Intelligent. Accurate. Deadly. The perfect son.

They were so different. Day and night.

Though he loved to give him shit for it, Lo’ak understood the pressure his brother was under. Being the perfect heir to the clan, always having eyes on his every move, sounded like literal hell for the second son. He was secretly so glad that Neteyam was the oldest and not himself. He couldn’t imagine the mental stress that kind of pressure would put on him. How Neteyam didn’t have the urge to runaway from home and never return was a mystery to him.

It was only natural for Neteyam to focus solely on his duties as the perfect warrior and heir. It was all he had ever known, as soon as he was crawling (which of course was months before the average baby because of fucking course he was even advanced as a literal infant). As soon as the light lit up their world, Neteyam would be out - sharpening his knife, tuning his bow, practicing his hand to hand combat - before Lo’ak even rubbed the sleep from his eyes. The poor thing didn’t even have a social life outside of training with the other boys their age. There was no room for him to have any free time, even less to mingle with the young women of their age in their clan. 

It was painfully obvious that the girls of their clan favored Neteyam over his baby brother. The way the girls their age would huddle together, giggling with a hushed voice as the brothers would pass them at first was an ego boost, definitely. It became glaringly obvious that they were casting their love-struck eyes at his older brother, and while disgruntled at first, he could understand. However, his big brother was too busy living up to their father’s expectations to find love, much less a crush.

So, when Lo’ak was sitting next to Tsireya, listening to Roxto explain how to spear fish underwater, he noticed how Neteyam’s amber eyes glanced passed the Metkayina boy and his back straightened up. It wouldn’t have been odd, until Neteyam’s face softened into an expression he didn’t think he’d ever see on his no-nonsense brother. An expression he’d seen on his father whenever their mother would walk into his line of sight.

Love-struck.

With wide eyes, Lo’ak whipped his head to the side, following his brother’s line of vision without shame of being caught. Subtlety was not in his vocabulary and he wasn’t about to start now. The others around them, surprised by his sudden movement, followed suit.

Almost twenty feet away, there was the subject of Neteyam’s distraction. Staring right back at the oldest Sully boy with a bashful smile as she walked with a few of the other girls of her clan.

Yana.

Ao’nung was the first to recover from the shock of the new information, his blue eyes narrowed dangerously at the forest prince. “No fucking way. Not Yana. Pick another girl.”

Tsireya smacked the back of his head, glaring. “Stop using the sky language to curse. And Yana passed her trials. She is older than you, and can decide who she wants.”

Neteyam didn’t bother replying, probably not even listening as his eyes still trailed after the older girl. Bright eyes wandered down her back, hypnotized at how her long spiral curls swayed in time with the swing of her hip. She glanced back to him once more, wiggling her fingers with a wink that nearly sent his heart into cardiac arrest.

Lo’ak snapped him out of it, tugging on his arm band with a teasing glint in his eye. “Really? Tsireya’s older cousin?”

He had to hand it to Neteyam though, he sure knew how to pick a crush. Yana was arguably the most beautiful girl in the clan, second to Tsireya in Lo’ak’s personal opinion. They had met her family last night during the communal celebration. Ironically, it was in celebration to reward the newest members of the clan passing their trials; Yana being one of four. She was now recognized in the clan as an adult - the dark ink of a fresh tribal tattoo wrapping around her shoulder the first indication of her new status. There were many young men in the clan that had showered her in attention last night, but she had stayed close to the Sully family after being introduced by her parents.

Too wrapped up in Tsireya, Lo’ak hadn’t even paid his brother any attention last night. Seeing how love-sick he looked as Yana disappeared from view, he was slightly glad he didn’t witness anything that might’ve corrupted his innocent mind.

Kiri giggled to his side, “You’d better hurry and finish your trials, Neteyam.”

The chuckles around them made the topic of conversation duck his head, hiding the heating of his face by looking at the soft sand beneath them. It was common knowledge that only those who were seen as adults in the clans could pick a mate, and they didn’t need to voice it for him to understand the innuendo.

They poked fun at him for a few minutes until a shadow fell over Ao’nung. “You don’t mind if I steal the mighty warrior for a while, do you, little cousin?”

Yana grinned at the surprised faces of the younger teens, and felt her smile widen at Ao’nung’s pout. Her baby cousin was too protective for his own good. She placed a hand over his damp braids, feeling him relax slightly. “I promise to bring him back before dinner, hm?”

While the others had turned their attention to the newcomer, Lo’ak took this time to examine his brother. How his eyes light up when she first spoke, braids swishing around his head as he turned to give her his undivided attention. The look in his gaze was as if this girl had put the sun in the sky herself. As if no one around him mattered when she was near. The two love-brids made eye contact and Yana held out her hand.

Neteyam didn’t even hesitate to stand, sliding his larger hand into hers so the shorter Na’vi could pull him any which way she desired. Which was apparently somewhere only the two of them were going. They didn’t even bother with a wave goodbye.

As if in sync with each other, Lo’ak and Kiri made identical gagging noises. Neteyam was so whipped, it was downright nauseating.

Tsireya nudged him, laughing at the Sully’s immature reactions before trying to get them all to focus back on task at hand. A soft teal hand on his upper arm was all she needed to get his attention and those dimples made his heart do flips. He felt those sparkling blue eyes take all of his focus, not even bothering to stop himself as he smiled at her.

Maybe he and Neteyam weren’t that different after all.

[guster-animations]

Kamen Rider Gavv Episode 30 Production Blog

aw gee 2025 SHT how come you get TWO obvious metaphors for the corrupt japanese government that also happen to apply to the current rapidly deteriorating state of the US government

TOKU TRANSLATION MASTERPOST HERE

translated from this website

Looking at the Next Episode

It’s sudden, but I wonder how long it takes for “Gavv” to be made. In the case of Sentai and Rider, it progresses two episodes at a time for each director.

How to make a script: At ordering meetings… What story should we do, and who should it be about? If there are new weapons or forms, everyone also looks at designs. We brainstorm the future plot structure in idle talk. Then, Plot meeting -> First draft meeting -> Second draft meeting -> Final draft completion

Generally, two episodes take three weeks to write.

Filming -> Around two weeks.

Voice-overs -> Post-transformation, Gochizos, and the like. Generally a day of work.

Finishing work -> About a month.

All-rush preview screening… A preview without visual effects, music, or sound effects for the people involved. Slight adjustments may be made here.

Basic editing… Visual effects, color adjustments, etc. Subtitles are added and footage is completed as well. Done twice.

MA… Sound effects and music are added, and sound levels are balanced. Toy sounds are also added here.

First screening… Finally complete!

The reason I wrote this process is because we order things even earlier than we film. Episode 31 and 32’s scripts were written by Hiroki Uchida. It’s his first time writing for “Gavv”. I’ve worked with Uchida on the “Gotchard & Geats” winter movie. He wrote the characters of “Geats” vividly in that script.

When I asked him to do episodes 31 and 32, Gavv had only aired its first few episodes… He had to read 30 episodes of script all at once! He figured out the story’s world and characters all at once, and watched what all-rush footage had been completed at that point… I think I only could have asked Uchida, whose love for Rider seeps from every corner of Gotchard. Thank you very much, Uchida!

Hanto and Rakia, who haven’t been getting along so far for some reason, are stuck together now?! You should definitely look forward to the next episode!

It will be directed by Director Kamihoriuchi. It’s his first time in “Gavv” since episodes 11 and 12. It’s been a while! Director Kamihoriuchi has also been busy for some reason… The scenes in episode 12 where Shoma and Hanto find out each other’s identities was great. It’s that time of year where we say that they should definitely come back. Kamihoriuchi’s style of making shots one-by-one is interesting. Don’t miss it!

(Written by: Naomi Takebe)

The Episode in Short

Thank you for watching Episode 30.

This episode was a series of developments and new information not touched on in the trailer, much less the previous episode. The new chapter won’t slow down, so please look forward to what direction the story will progress in from now on!

The Stomachs’ Family Troubles, Swirling With Love and Hatred

Like the previous episode, the young Lizel throws the Stomach company into chaos this time. I would never have expected that the family Jiip marries into would be the president’s daughter… It was a series of developments that Lango also seemed to want to say, “I didn’t know about this,” to.

Siita appears for the first time in a long time! The Mimic Key destroyed in episode 14 has been repaired. There probably were many people who thought, “He could use the Mimic Key like that?!”.

However, Jiip isn’t able to meet with Siita, and the person reflected in the mirror is someone he dearly misses but can’t reunite with. To become someone you’re not and marry into a powerful family, in order to get revenge… The Stomach family’s drama of love and hate is speeding up.

Kawasaki and Koga finally got to see each other on the set again! Welcome back, Siita.

It’s not only characters that have rushed into the new chapter and made first appearances. The new asset (3D-CG space) nicknamed the “President’s official residence” makes its first appearance in this episode.

When posed with the problem of “how do we give the impression that a new level of power has been added to Gavv’s world?”, we made a request for this episode to Black Frame, who made the assets for the Stomach Company, and they made new assets at a fast pace.

aIt also matches their clothing, but the design uses a noble white that contrasts against the Stomach’s colors! And “the President’s official residence” sounds like a castle-esque building that reigns over the skies, so the Jardak family’s crest designed by Hideki Tajima appears in many places.

When you try looking at the details, you see elaborate designs all over the place. Filming with unfamiliar assets was difficult, but the director also got the shots he wanted, like the ones from the sky to the atrium!

A new Granute, Magen, appears in this presidential residence. He seems to be an extremely powerful person who’s close with the President… and he’s being fed Dark Snacks!?!?

I have a feeling that the President using Dark Snacks for personal reasons could cause problems.

Magen’s voice actor is Wataru Takagi! He’s a corrupt merchant who reflects Director Morota’s idea that “the important people are also bad guys~”. He gave an explosive performance that truly embodies that image!

Dark clouds loom over the Granute world, and thus the Stomach family. Lango’s seat as the company president has been stolen by a young girl, and Glotta, who used to be as violent as she wanted, can’t do much either.

Ochiru the Granute Falls From Trees

Find Director Morota’s cameo in this image!!

Setting aside that joke, there’s a search for the Granute who got away in the last episode! While on the hunt, Shoma goes to a certain candy store to ask for information.

The candy store’s name is “Hidamari”. There’s a cafe space, so it has the name “Candy Cafe”.

The store’s owner that Shoma encounters there is played by Shuhei Handa! His warm gaze with a really kind presence was striking. It seems like he’ll also appear in the next episode, so pay attention to how he’ll be involved in the future!

Higo made a fun battle full of witty remarks for this episode too. He was a basketball spectator last time, but it was uncovered that he’s actually an attendant at a bathhouse. At the time we cast him, we approached him in part because he perfectly fit the part of an old man at a bathhouse. (It’s not a hot bath!!)

A double ice cream transformation and a double Rider kick! Since Frappe has appeared now, we wanted to do an ice cream lineup with Gavv and Valen at any cost! So, they successfully defeat a Granute with richly chilly action in this episode.

There might have been many serious fights recently, but fun action is also good to have!

Off-screen Birthday

Shoji celebrated his birthday during this Morota arc. The troupe’s leader, Chinen, presented his cake!

Happy birthday, Shoji! We took a celebratory photo with everyone, including the director!

Since it’s Rakia, we obviously had to do pudding. 🍮 We asked a cake shop close to the set, and they made a special, extra-large pudding cake! LOL

Furthermore, not only Shoji but also Tsukada celebrated their birthdays during this Morota episode! What a birthday rush! Satoshi Morota is a birthday-attracting director.

Our Lango was able to celebrate his birthday with his entire family (including his new sister-in-law Lizel)~!

The Stomach family’s situation is chaotic, but on the set, they’re always kind to each other, and they all celebrated with him.

(Written by: Ryohei Takahashi)

[blrecs]

12/50: second draft (marukido maki, "pornographer" series)

Before falling back into bl fandom (thanks for nothing, June!), I was watching a lot of videos about conscious consumerism and booktok fandom. For a while, despite being hobby-less, I found myself contemplating how more and more modern hobbies have more and more become about consuming, buying, purchasing, collecting ever more things. Even reading has become a hobby about consumption rather than contemplation or meditation. In the loudest, most obvious corners of "reading as fandom," if reading is that, the hobby is defined by book hauls, buying new releases, subscription boxes, exclusive editions—the hallmarks of buying as a hobby rather than doing.

How do we make reading a hobby that isn't about spending money, and how, specifically, do we do this in the context of bl manga? I think it feels even more potent in bl manga because we the readers feel it is our obligation to support it, and more importantly, that our support allows the hobby to continue and proliferate. For example, we believe (and I am not saying we are wrong to do so) that if we buy more licensed bl and support reading/buying bl on their official platforms, the companies will keep licensing new series and even bring us the specific series we want. Too, as the hobby becomes more normalized, we encounter new and different (and, sometimes, bad) ways of doing fandom, like sharing screenshots of scanlations while tagging the authors. Faced with bad behaviors and bad actors, we try to rehabilitate our image, convince people that we are serious, we are a force to be reckoned with, that we matter. And how do we do that in this current world, if not through money?

But I bring these questions to you not to answer them, but to disregard them. As a consumer, as a reader, as a hobbyist, I don't have the responsibility, and certainly not the ability or the know-how, to fix the problems with the industry. I think of myself instead like an ancient wine priestess: mystic and superfluous, responsible not for portents or prescriptions, but rather for doling out the simple pleasures of the present. Others may come with solutions; I, for one, prefer to spend my time talking about bl delusions.

This is of course why I feel so strongly about writing about bl, and doing so in a serious way. It keeps the hobby fresh, forces me to revisit the things I have already bought, and to bring them alive in a way that isn't about buying more things. Rereading, sometimes over a period of years, coming back to stories as a changed person and discovering new reasons to love them—these are ways that I already interact with non-bl anime and manga, that feel normal and even laudatory as I've gotten older. I want to make that a way of interacting with bl too, that the bl stories we read are capable of having the same kind of lasting power, the same kind of emotion.

And so, this week, I want to talk about Marukido Maki's "Pornographer" series, a story about writing that I have read and reread many times.

In 2020 I got a Futekiya sub simply so I could read "Pornographer" and even wrote a little blurb about it. Normally, this would mean that I would consider this series off limits for another long post. After all, what more can I say that I haven't said already? I stand behind every word of my first pass. Kijima is a deliciously bad man who seems designed by Marukido specifically to torture Kuzumi, an innocent himbo with a very rich inner life. That Kijima manages to snag Kuzumi and keep him through the end of "Pornographer" speaks not to Kijima's virtues but rather to the suspension bridge effect of it all. Caught up in Kijima's elaborate lies and then very dramatic reveal of his lies, then strung along for two years while Kijima tries to find himself and a way out of his writer's block, Kuzumi really had only two options: strangle Kijima himself or fall in love with him, and the genre isn't called "boys' ligature."

If there is one fault with "Pornographer" and "Playback," it is that Kuzumi's interiority is not as well-developed as Kijima's, despite being the POV voice in "Pornographer." But perhaps that is because Kuzumi is so normal. It is normal to fall for the seductive, flirtatious older person who talks to you about your erection, it is normal to be upset that he lied to you for months and then ran away after a night of impassioned sex and seven orgasms, it is extremely normal to be furious when he then tries to recreate your meet-cute with another man. What is less obvious, maybe, is what keeps Kuzumi in love with Kijima. This time, in 2025, as I reread the series and especially "Playback," I think what he was drawn to was Kijima's natural loneliness. Kuzumi himself wasn't able to articulate this until chapter 3 of "Playback," when, passed out and lightly concussed from falling down a flight of stairs, he remembers the moment he started falling in love with Kijima. He had been washing Kijima's hair and talking about his parents eventually replacing a beloved family pet who had died of old age. Kijima implies that Kuzumi's family had gotten a new dog because Kuzumi had moved to Tokyo. "If I were your parents, I'd probably be sad too. I'm sure their home without you there was very quiet and lonely."

Kuzumi may not realize it, but in that concussed montage of the moment he began falling in love with Kijima, thinking of Kijima talking about loneliness, Kuzumi has finally seen Kijima as a writer. Writers are inherently lonely people. To write, or at least to want to write, is to be separated in some way from the normal flow of life, to be an observer even in your own life. Like all sentimental writers (myself included), Kijima has a bad habit of being nostalgic for something he has not yet lost. He is unable to be in the moment and enjoy Kuzumi washing his hair without thinking of himself becoming Kuzumi's parents, eventually left with a quiet and lonely home, having allowed Kuzumi to walk out of his life. Perhaps he thought of himself like Kuzumi's dog: helpless, fading, able to enjoy Kuzumi's kind ministrations only because it is temporary. Even at the very end of the series, when in "Spring Life Part 2" Kijima agrees to move in with Kuzumi, Kijima is unable to do so without thinking of endings. "Don't get sick of me and toss me out on the streets," he says, to a man who has had more than enough reasons to do just that and has resisted the impulse each time.

At this height of happiness, about to cohabitate with a man who loves him so much, Kijima remains tortured by happiness as a phase that will pass, of happiness that speaks to the possibility of future loneliness. And this is what inspires him to get out of bed, a bed he is sharing with a man who loves him so, so much, so that he can write. There is no panel that speaks more purely to Kijima's nature than the last page of "Spring Life Part 2." He sits, solitary, at the dining table in the dead of night, smoking. He is separated from the man who loves him by a door, a door that man has shut on purpose. It is because that man loves Kijima so, so much that he has closed the door, so that he does not interrupt Kijima's writing. In that moment, Kuzumi does not call Kijima by any of his names. He says, instead, from a tender but melancholy distance, "goodnight, sensei."

This distance between Kuzumi and Kijima is what brings me back to the "Pornographer" series time and time again. Younger me wrote that this series was "an ode to the idea that love is not the end of two people's identities as individuals, that a relationship is not about two halves becoming a whole, but rather a space for two people to be whole together, to be together while being apart." And I do love that and agree, but now I wonder if all that is only true because it is reflective of how Kijima—and maybe Marukido herself—thinks about writing. Perhaps to Kijima, the defining characteristic of a writer is some inherent badness. Or the other way around, that writing makes a person bad, hence why he, and Gamouda, and Kido all are "bad people." This "badness" means for Kijima that he feels forever quarantined from his friends and family and most of all from Kuzumi, who is bright and wholesome and untouched by writing of any sort. The only person Kijima feels no shame in holding onto is Kido. Kido can never reject him, because Kido at least was once a bad person—that is, a writer.

There's an uncanny parallel between Chapter 4 of "Playback" and Chapter 6 of "Mood Indigo." In both, there's a sense of leave-taking, that Kijima and Kido are nominally putting their relationship to bed, while secretly keeping silent about their own lingering feelings. In "Playback," Kijima is firm in his verdict that he and Kido would have never worked in a relationship, and Kido seems to agree. But I think there's a reason Marukido doesn't show you Kido's face in that moment. Because I think in that moment, Kido is not being a good friend, or a good editor, or a good person. I think in that moment Kido is relapsing. He is remembering that he was once a bad person, and that as a writer his heart can violate the laws of time and physics, letting go of a thing he never had in the first place. The awful truth is that writing made Kijima and Kido into twin flames. That doesn't mean they can be together, but it means they'll always share something Kijima and Kuzumi can never share. Perhaps that is why throughout the entirety of the series, Kijima never "reads" Kuzumi in to the events of "Mood Indigo." He'll share the secret of "Spring Life" and Gamouda, but not this. Well, perhaps that is the role of the editor, that fate that Kido eventually surrenders to: to transform a bad story into a good one, and to show the writer—Kijima—in the best light possible.

You can read the Pornographer series on Manga Planet (formerly Futekiya). One day we will get it in print. I believe it.

[lenavonschweetz]

Grace For Sale

Sam Winchester x Reader

Synopsis: Your town could definitely handle themselves, but a little help isn’t something you’d willingly turn down.  When the Winchesters show up - do things get better, or worse?

Warnings: language, anti-religious sentiments, slight religious inner conflict, angst? If you squint?, smut, Under 18 keep faaaar away.

A/N: Takes place during s5:e17 - 99 Problems.  So funny story, I actually AM a preacher’s kid so this episode kinda made me laugh then gave me the idea for this.  Title comes from The Devil’s Carnival.  Also, this has been sitting in my drafts for literal years, guess it’s about time I post it. As always, I don’t have a beta so please excuse any typos. I’ll fix any that are pointed out to me.

Enjoy!

Sam and Dean aren’t exactly sure what to make of your little town.

The welcome wagon was a little more off the wall than they were used to - what with a firetruck full of holy water, a portable exorcism, and a group of civilians that actually knew about the things that go bump in the night.  Still, it wasn’t…the strangest introduction they’d encountered.

“So, are we gonna talk about that?”  Sam asks as Dean steers impala into town - right on the tail of the Sacrament Lutheran Militia’s truck.  What kind of a name was that anyway?

A church looms overhead, answering Sam’s unspoken question, and he wishes he hadn’t even asked.

It’s definitely the apocalypse, what with the devil’s trap brandishing the walkway up to the church door.

Sam’s eyes are heavy - spending the wee hours of the night fighting hellspawn will do that to you.  Especially when you’re bleeding out.  At least the militia had some quick fix first aid handy.

The first thing the brothers notice upon entering the sacred building is the couples standing at the alter, all facing the priest who prattles on about finding something special amidst the impending doom.  The second thing they notice is all of the townsfolk holding shotguns.

Sam scoffs.

“A wedding?  Seriously?”  How in God’s name - no, y’know what, scratch that - how in the Hell were they hosting a wedding at a time like this?

“Yup.  We’ve had 8 so far this week.”  The man to his right, Paul, says and it’s obvious Sam isn’t the only one who’s less than impressed.  At least they’re in good company.

It’s definitely the first time the brothers can be completely transparent in their introductions.  Sure, sometimes they’re found out, or sometimes they’re among other hunters.  But to tell an entire town - and a priest, no less - that they are demon hunters?  Yeah, that may take a little getting used to.

So is the priest toting a gun and the children packing salt rounds in the basement of the church.  Dean makes a quip about running scared or sticking around and making a home out of the place and Sam thinks he’d be leaning toward the later if the end of the world wasn’t resting on their shoulders.

But none of that explained how a whole town had taken up hunting.

Well, until the mystery prophet is introduced in the form of the “Packing Preacher’s” daughter - Leah.

Well…he’d been through stranger.

Dean makes a pass at her - right in front of her father.  The father.  Sam just rolls his eyes, gaze landing on the corner where another figure lurks.

Oh.

This one…he thinks…this one is much more his speed.

“Ah, my other daughter.”  Pastor Gideon says, holding a hand out to beckon you forward.  Sam watches as you push off the wall and approach the group.  There’s little family resemblance, he notes, but definitely isn’t complaining.  While your sister is clad in muted colors, baggy sweater, and tennis shoes - you opt for something a little form-fitting under your dark leather jacket with the combat boots to match.  You scream ‘hunter’, ‘capable’, and ‘danger’ more than anyone else in this town and he has trouble tearing his eyes off of you.  Now, you’re not complaining.  In fact, your eyes linger on Sam just as much as he does on you.  And when he realizes this, the mountain of a man becomes a flustered mess.   It brings a smirk to your face and a blush to his.  “Y/N, this is Dean and Sam Winchester.”

“So I’ve heard.”  You chuckle, arms crossing in front of the very cleavage Sam’s staring at beneath your open flannel.  You cock a brow, baiting him, though he seems too nervous with your father present to answer the challenge.  “Shame Leah never mentioned you.  Though,”  you cast an appreciative glance over their strong frames and Sam very nearly shivers.  Beside him, Dean practically preens.  “I can see why.  If I knew fine specimens such as yourself were going to be crashing in our little town, I’d keep it to myself too.”

The Father is none too amused when you wink at your sister and the two of you share a giggle.  Again, Sam notes the distinct lack of resemblance but brushes it off.

“Y/N,”  Your father says in warning, which you completely ignore and grant the taller Winchester another ravenous once over before turning on your heel.  If anyone asked, you would deny that you were overemphasizing the swing of your hips.

“If you need me,”  you tell him without so much as a glance, calling over your shoulder as you saunter up the basement stairs.  “I’ll be at Paul’s!”

—————

The next time you see the brothers, it’s at the house Leah’s vision lead you to.  Well, actually, that’s a lie.  You saw them the night before at Paul’s bar, but they seemed to be wrapped up in a very important conversation - if the concentration on their brows had anything to say about it. 

Still, that hadn’t stopped you from ordering the brothers a couple of beers.  To his credit, Paul doesn’t judge you - which is a lot more than you can say for your family as of late - and even brought the boys their drinks so that you could do the ever so clique cheers across the bar.

Sam merely nodded in his head in thanks, raised his own beer with a silent ‘cheers’, then went back over to his brother.

So you couldn’t get a better read on them that night.  That’s ok.  It gave you the perfect opportunity to ogle to your heart’s content.

They were some fine specimens, that’s for sure.  The perfect hunters.  Sharp eyes, strong statures.  Hell, Sam looked like he could take out multiple demons all on his own - I mean, come on.  Those arms!

God, you had gotten such a perfect look at them while they brooded and planned what with the way Sam’s sleeves had been rolled and pushed up to his elbows.  Had you ever found forearms as attractive as you did at that moment?  Probably not.

And that jawline?  Christ, you could cut glass on that thing.

The sideburns may have been a little much, but hell, if that was all you could pin as off, you’d take it! 

Your ogling session had been cut short by the bell tolling - another of your sister’s visions - and after arguing with your father in front of the whole church that ‘yes, I am going with them’ - your hunting group was on the doorstep of the abandoned home.  Most of the townspeople are toting guns full of salt or sprayers of holy water, all armed with the ridiculous incantation your sister had told you to use to exorcise them.

But not Sam.  No, Sam was only wielding a knife, and God did he make it look easy.  If you weren’t too busy kicking ass and getting your ass kicked, you’d be drooling over that too.

Only when the dust settles do you take the opportunity to approach the brothers.

“You really are the hunters my sister made you out to be.”  Sam’s perfect eyebrow arches at that, gaze flickering to the way your chest rises and falls with your heavy panting.

“You didn’t think we would be?”  You mirror his smirk and shrug, ignoring the way Dean is eyeing the two of you like he knows exactly what’s going on in your head.  Honestly, he probably did.  Dude seemed about as horny as you did.

 “So,” Sam pants, following the group out of the house.  You miss the way he’s eyeing your ass as you’re just steps ahead of him.  “That’s what it’s like.”  There’s no shortage of sexual innuendo in his voice and you decide to poke the bear a little more.  Whether your father was in earshot or not.

“What what’s like?”  You’re turned to him now, handing in your pockets and treading carefully backward.  He meets your hungry look with one of his own and shivers absolutely rattle your body.  Again he smirks, making sure the coast is clear of your father before saddling up right next to you.

“Having back up.”  He all but whispers in your ear, large hand grazing just inches above your bottom and god, how did he make such an innocent statement sound so filthy.  There’s no way he misses the way you tremble and sigh, not with the way he smirks at you while walking away.

You’re not sure what’s going to kill you first.  The Demons or your insatiable need for Sam fucking Winchester.

—————

Neither.

Neither of those things is gonna kill you first.

Because it’ll be your father that kills you.

Because you’re going to fucking murder your sister.

After the Winchesters brought back a murdered Dylan…well, things were tense. People started to resent them and the warm welcome they had initially received turned cold. Only you and Paul would speak to them without adding to the guilt you knew they already felt.

You knew it wasn’t their fault.  Hell, half of you had been through it before - coming off a hunt all together too cocky and not aware of the demon that still lurked around until it was too late.  Dylan was a good hunter.  Dean and Sam were good hunters.  It had happened to the best of you.  And so you do what you always did - you held a funeral and vowed to be more vigilant next time.

But that wasn’t enough for the townspeople.

Or for your sister.

No, she had to go and suck the fun out of everything.

No drinking, no gambling, no pre-marital sex.

All per the angels’ command, of course.

“What a crock of shit.”  The empty glass thunks against the wood of the bar - as hollow as you feel right about now.  Paul only echoes your sentiments and pours you another glass.  The only thing that pulls you from your ire is the bell signifying a newcomer.  For the first time since Leah’s proclamation, your scowl softens as the person you wanted to see most walks right through that door.

“So, what happened to, uh,” he makes a grand gesture to the empty bar - earning a snort from the two of you,  “’the apocalypse is good for business’?”

“Yeah, right up until Leah’s angel pals banned the good stuff.”  Paul says, earning a groan from you as you pinch the bridge of your nose at your damn sister’s name.  “Y/N’s here helping me kill some inventory.”  Sam chuckles at the glass you raise, tipping it toward him and saying ‘I’m only doing the good work.’  “Want to help?”

With a drink in hand, Paul pours a shot for each of you.  He doesn’t hold back on his opinion of the ‘holy rollers’ nor their hypocrisy, to which Sam calls him out for his noticeable lack of faith.  Paul shrugs it off, defending his honorable lack of prayer.

“Look, there’s sure as hell demons.  and maybe there is a god, I don’t know.  Fine.  But I’m not a hypocrite.  I never prayed before and I ain’t starting now.  If I go to Hell, I’m going honest.  Besides,”  Paul nods to you just as you put your shot glass - empty again - back on the bar.  “I figure if this one can get away with it, so can I.”  Sam’s eyebrows raise at that, eyes finding you.

“You either?”

“I grew up in the church,” you explain.  “I’ve seen how the…holiest of us all can be far worse than the ‘hooligans’ of the world.”  You wink at Paul, air quotes bouncing as you mimic your father’s ‘preacher’ voice.  The two of you share a laugh and you miss how Sam’s fingers tighten around his glass along with his jaw at the intimacy you two seem to share.  “Yeah, I believe in some kind of higher power.”  You continue, focus shifting to the Adonis beside you.  He doesn’t miss the bitter tone your voice takes on. “But I don’t believe in the church.  The organized religion crap.  Never been too big on it.  But then, neither had Leah.  And now, out of nowhere, she’s some chosen prophet?”  You scoff.  “I dunno.  I just can’t trust it.  And like Paul said, I’m no hypocrite.  I know I’m messed up.  Won’t pretend otherwise.”

This time when you regard Paul, patting his hand as one would a brother, Sam’s shoulders relax.

“Yeah, I, uh…I know what you mean.”  A moment of heavy, thick silence passes between the two of you before you’re pressing him for his thoughts with nothing more than a look.  “I believe.”  But he doesn’t sound so sure.  More convincing himself than he is you, maybe, so you stay quiet and let him work through his thoughts.  “Yeah, I do.”  He says, more assured this time.  “I’m just pretty sure God stopped caring a long time ago.”

“Yeah, I can see that.”  A big sigh breaks from your chest, one of those sighs that comes when you feel like you’ve forgotten how to breathe, and suddenly this conversation is too heavy for how drunk you are not and for how drunk you want to be.

After a few moments, a morbid, hindsight joke blooms in your head and you can’t help but laugh, noting the questioning look on your drinking buddies’ faces.

“Guess those newlyweds knew something we didn’t.”  You chuckle, taking a pull of your drink.  “Tied the knot before Leah could restrict ‘em.  Betcha they’re bangin’ like rabbits right about now.”  The liquor burns, smothering your humorless chuckle as you knock it back.  “Lucky bastards.”  

Behind the bar Paul chuckles, noting the tension in the air, the sudden shift of mood, and takes his exit - mumbling something about grabbing more from the back. Neither you or Sam really hear him, though - too wrapped up in the other’s stare you share at what you’re implying.  

Helluva wingman, that Paul.

Once the two of you are alone, Sam swivels in his chair until his long legs drape open and you have to force yourself not to look down.  A bushy, perfectly masculine brow arches.  Then he speaks - voice low and sweet and pure sin.

“Really?  You, uh, don’t seem to have much issue with breaking the no-drinking rule.”  And it isn’t a question.  He flicks the back of his fingers against your glass, warm eyes staring right at you as the faint tinkling tickles your ears.  Your heart shutters in time with the tinkling of skin on glass and you don’t realize you’re chewing on your bottom lip until his eyes flicker to it.  “You gonna draw the line at pre-marital sex?”

“Now, Sam Winchester...who said I would do that?”  The look you fix him with has him adjusting his suddenly too-tight pants.

“Not afraid of being damned?  Of not being one of the ‘chosen’?”

“I’m no ‘chosen’.”  You scoff, bouncing air quotes once more.  “That’s my sister.  Me?  I’m just the poor little preacher’s kid who lost her faith a long time ago.”   It isn’t seductive talk - in fact, it’s dark as hell.  But he asked, and like you’d said before - you were no liar, and you were no hypocrite.  You turn to your companion, renewed .  “But you know…there is a curfew.”

The tonal shift isn’t subtle, but that doesn’t keep the space between you from growing ever smaller, Sam’s large hand sliding up your thigh and again you must fight off the urge to shiver.  Especially when he lowers his voice once more, those big hazel eyes glancing at you from under his full, coal black lashes.

“Is that so?”  A squeeze to your thigh, and you jolt just the tiniest bit, to Sam’s great amusement.

“My place is right around the corner.”  You explain with a shrug, that damn lip caught between your teeth again. And suddenly in the dark, empty bar, you don’t care if you are damning yourself to hell.  As long as it’s at the hands of Sam Winchester, you’ll go willingly.

—————

The wall of your entryway meets your back sharply, a hiss of pain escaping you momentarily before it’s silenced by Sam’s eager lips.

Hurried hands rid you of your clothes, his own falling like breadcrumbs alongside yours until the two of you are falling on to the bed.  Fingers skilled at far more than knife-wielding ghost up your thighs, featherlight touches leaving a fire under your skin.  He’s slow in his undoing of you.  Reverent even.  Watches the way you keen beneath him, begging for his fingers.  Holds your eyes as he drags those fingers through his lips before trailing the wet tips down your front. When he finally gives them to you, one long digit sliding right up to the knuckle, your teeth break the skin of your lip just enough to hurt and you’re gasping - begging for more - which he gives to you, gladly. Working you until you’re ready for him and at the precipice of falling over the edge.

He had looked good in his clothes, sure, but god damn he’s ten times more beautiful out of them.  Infinite smooth, golden skin lays beneath your greedy fingers, a dusting of fine hair contouring the plane of his chest and down below his waistband.  Your mouth waters and you tug impatiently at his jeans.

“Someone’s eager.”  He chuckles, low and husky, standing to drop both pants and boxers.  Oh.  Good God.

“Oh, you have no idea.”  You only break your eyes away to grab a condom before you shove him on his back and straddle those strong thighs.  "I've been wanting to get your clothes off since the second I laid eyes on you."

"Trust me," he breathes - no, borderline growls - and you shutter, walls fluttering at how fucking empty you are and just how fucking bad you need him inside of you right now.  "The feeling's mutual."

He’s big all over, just like you expected, and even rolling the latex over his thick shaft has you shivering in anticipation.  The action doesn’t go unnoticed by the gigantic man beneath you and before you can react, he’s rolling his hips with a moan that takes your breath away.  It takes immense focus to speak through your gasp.

“Don’t finish this before it’s even started, Winchester.”  He laughs at your warning, fingers digging into your thighs and ass.  Oh, this man is going to wreck you, you just know it.

“You have so little faith in me?”  A quip lies on your tongue, something about having no faith at all, but that melts into a strangled moan the second his fat head presses past your opening.  “Oh, Christ.”  He hisses, teeth clenched and head thrown back in unadulterated pleasure at the feel of you, your hips rolling slowly as you try your best to take the overwhelming size of him.  Your fingers digging into supple pecs does nothing to ebb the overwhelming feeling of Sam spearing you open.

“Leave him outta this.”  You quip, sinking down the rest of the way - finally.  You both shiver at the feeling of him fully seated in you before you start rocking against him.

Not much else is said - not much else needed to be said - as the two of you chase relief and distraction in each other.

The stretch burns in the best way and you realize you're going to be feeling this for days.  Every step, every shift is going to take you right back here - your hands splayed out on sculpted pecs, Sam's angelic and angular face contorted in ecstasy as he does his best to keep his eyes open and watch you ride him for everything he's worth.  Those big hazel eyes blink up at you, fluttering and rolling at a particularly deep stroke before they're suddenly open - fiery and determined.  There's no time to even tease or question before he's pistoning up into you, his marble body rubbing yours in such a way that has you gasping for air, his massive hands splayed over your ass to keep you exactly where he wants you. Sloppy thrusts turn to rocking hips and the new angle has your toes curling.

His cock grazes just the right spot with every rock of his hips, both of you whispering moans and groans of the other’s name.  You do your best to keep up, rolling your tired hips when you can, nails biting into his skin when you have to focus solely on not imploding right where you are.

Your orgasm crests, and you beg him to go faster - to take control - and he does, practically throwing you onto your back to angle you the exact way he wants to.  The height difference is dizzying - even with you on your back and him on his haunches - all you can see while he hammers into you is the brand on his chest.  You itch to bite into the ink, to make him mewl against your skin once more but all rational thought flies out the window when his thumb reaches between your splayed legs, presses in tight, dizzying circles, and sends you spiraling into oblivion as aftershock after aftershock rocks your nerves.

In the aftermath of it all - after you’ve seen white from the intense pleasure he milked out of you - you lie in a daze.  Memorizing the way his hands feel as he wipes some of his spend off your chest.  Jesus, the sounds that man had made when he came...you have half a mind to tie him down and never let him leave - your sister's 'orders' be damned.

“It’s past curfew, y'know?”  You remind him, fingers tracing the divots and curves of his abdomen.  God, he’s perfect.  You could spend hours memorizing every inch of skin.   Pity said skin disappears behind thick flannel once more.  You bite back a disappointed groan, casting your eyes over his massive stature.  You don't think you'll ever get over just how small he makes you feel - in the best possible way, of course.  Especially when he flashes that perfect fucking smile at you, dimples and all.

“Yeah?  What about it?”  He urges, a shit-eating grin playing at his lips as he dares you to ask him to stay.  You sit up on your knees then, leveling yourself with his chest and drag your fingers down once more.  "Something you want to say, Y/N?"  If possible, his grin grows wider when you crook an eyebrow at him, beckoning him to your level with a come hither finger to match.

“If you’re waiting for me to ask you to stay, Sam Winchester,"  you whisper, lips ghosting over his own and you take great pride in the way his sinfully long lashes flutter against the tops of his sharp cheeks.   "You can keep waiting.”  The low groan that escapes his throat when you cup him once more makes you ache in the absolute best way.  You're seconds away from throwing your pride to the wind and pulling him back into bed with you.  But this is the end of the world after all.  No doubt he has other pressing matters to attend to.

“Yeah, well, as much as I would love to…I should get back before Dean gets worried.”  Disappointment laces his words, but you’re both too grown-up for any fairytale crap.  Your life felt like more a horror lately than a fantasy, anyway.  So, with incredibly gentle fingers, he pulls your hand toward his lips, grazing them over your knuckles as his eyes bore into yours.  Hmm, he plays dirty.

“Yeah…my dad’s probably expecting me at the church.”  You offer lamely, though there's probably some truth to it.  Not one night goes by without a demon attack or a vision from the chosen sister.  You're surprised you haven't been interrupted by a frantic call from your father already, as a matter a fact.  He smiles at you again, your heart running rampant as he's tossing the towel down to wrap his arms around your waist once more.  The look in his eyes and the hardness pressing into your belly are tempting enough, but you manage to grit out a warning "Sam..."

“And here you are, sinning with the outsider.”  He rumbles, smirking as his eyes drink in your face for - most likely - the last time.  You return his smile, reeling him in for one last kiss...or twelve.

“Yeah, well, if I’m going to hell anyway, may as well make the road there fun.”

If only you knew the literal hell that awaited you in the next few hours…

FIN