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sixpennydame · 1 year

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The Better Man | Epilogue

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“Levi…”

You stretch your arms out to his side of the bed, expecting to feel his warm body. The late fall mornings were getting colder and you were yearning to cuddle beside him. But then you remembered: it’s nearly impossible for that man to sleep more than four hours a night, yet alone get him to sleep in the bed, even when he’s here in the comfort of home.

Our home, you think to yourself.

_____

After the Female Titan attack on Stohess, Levi insisted that he move you inside Wall Sina, on the outskirts of Mitras. It was safer, he’d argued, and less likely to have a large-scale titan attack, as protecting you was always first and foremost in his mind. Outside the capital, on two acres of land, you’d found a small, cozy cottage, the perfect size for the two of you (“Smaller houses are easier to clean,” Levi had noted). It was just far enough away that people wouldn’t pry into your business; a place where Levi could be at peace.

But in the months following Stohess, there would be no peace for Levi; in fact, you’d barely seen him. You kept yourself busy with making pastries for the local market and making the cottage a home for Levi to come home to. It had been three months with no word, but you knew he’d come back. He’d promised you.

And that promise was kept when he rode up to the picket fence surrounding your home a few months later. He was weather-worn and exhausted, and he held you in his arms like your very presence was bringing him back to life. He told you of Kenny and the MP’s, of the military coup, and Historia's upcoming coronation. His eyes cast downward when he spoke of Kenny, but there was a hope there too; something you hadn’t seen on his face in a long time, maybe ever.

You also had news for him: you were pregnant.

Your tiny bump was unnoticeable under the layers of your late-summer dress, and at first, he’d just looked at you, as if he was trying to process what you were telling him. You thought he was unhappy at first, but then his face softened and he held you tightly, whispering in your ear that this was the happiest he’d ever felt.

(So there was more than one reason why Levi was smiling so broadly at Historia’s coronation ceremony.)

Finally, it seemed like there was some good in the world.

For the next two months, Levi and the Survey Corps stayed in Mitras, where he became involved in Queen Historia’s efforts to bring all the orphans out of the Underground. He invited you to be a consultant with him, but you’d refused; you didn’t feel educated enough to be in a room full of government and military officials, but at home Levi would ask your opinion on matters. Working together towards making the world a better place, having the man you love beside you, it felt like a dream. And every evening Levi’s hands would rest gently on your belly as you slept.

But no good thing lasts forever.

“Re-taking Shiganshina and filling the hole in the wall should only take a few days”, he’d said. “I’ll be back in a week.”

“We’ll be here waiting for you.” Your belly had grown in the months Levi had been home, and his hands always gravitated toward it, as if willing his protection to the baby inside.

A week came and went, but Levi didn’t return. When another week passed with no word, you started to worry.

News finally reached the village of the massacre of the Survey Corps and the nine survivors who were awarded a medal of valor by the queen. Levi’s name was listed among the nine. You breathed a sigh of relief.

He’ll be home soon.

When he did return, there was a change, like a dark cloud hanging over him. You understood - he’d lost Erwin, who’d been his guiding light for so many years. And he was angry - angry that he wasn’t able to defeat the Beast Titan, that he wasn’t able to keep his promise. You were happy and relieved to have him home, but he wasn’t fully here.

The cold floors creak as you softly walk to the room that will soon be your child’s nursery and there is Levi, sitting in the wingback chair next to the window. Ever the light sleeper, it only takes a few steps of your walking into the room before his eyes flit open.

“Another rough night?” you ask as you walk towards the chair.

“I just didn’t want to wake you. You should rest as much as possible.”

You knew Levi felt guilty for not being with you during much of the pregnancy, and so he made up for it by being extra protective when he was around. He’d barely let you lift a finger, which you’d tried to tell him was unnecessary, but did love being doted over.

He pulls you towards him and you stand in between his legs as he starts gently caressing your belly. “How are you feeling this morning?”

“Fine, but I feel huge,” you sigh. “I still have three months to go… how am I already this big?” you ask, hoping that Levi will reply with, “You’re not that big,” or “You look beautiful,” but he’s silent, his forehead resting on your stomach.

“Levi…what’s wrong?”

“Nothing,” is his reply, but you know that’s not true. He hasn’t been fine since he returned, but what bothers you most is that he’s closing off his feelings.

“Hey,” you lift his head up to look at you, “don’t shut me out. I can tell you’re hurting. Just talk to me.”

You won’t be shut off from the man you love again. You won’t watch him being eaten away from the inside.

It takes him a few moments to respond, seemingly struggling to say the words out loud. “It’s just that everything I’ve known about the world has been wrong. Titans are humans. Kenny was my uncle. There are people - hell, a whole entire rest of the world - beyond these walls. Our duty as Scouts was to find out the truth, and we did that. But without Erwin, I’m not sure any of us know what to do with that truth.”

You sit on Levi’s lap as his heavy heart slowly begins to open up to you. “It’s only a matter of time now before we kill all the titans trapped in Wall Maria. Once spring comes, Hange plans for the Scouts to explore beyond the walls.” His arm, wrapped around your waist, pulls you in tighter. “My life has always been full of unknowns, but this..” he pauses and as you run your hands through his hair. “I don’t know what kind of world we’re about to open ourselves up to…and if I’m strong enough to protect humanity anymore.”

“You’re worried about the world you’re bringing your child into,” you add, your hands caressing his freshly shaven undercut.

“I’ll protect you and our child with every inch of my being, but I hate that I don’t know what’s coming next.”

Levi has always been so sure of himself and his abilities. Erwin gave him a bigger reason to focus that brute strength. Now, Levi is like an unmanned ship careening into dangerous waters.

And he needs you to be his anchor.

“The future is scary right now, no doubt about that. There are times when I’m so terrified of being a mother. But when I feel that way, the one thing that keeps me sane through it all, Levi, is knowing that I’m not doing this alone.”

“And you’re right, the world is changing - there’s nothing any of us can do about that. But think about where we came from, and how far we’ve come. Through it all, there’s been one constant,” your hand gently turns his face towards yours.

“Us.”

You lean your forehead against his. “We have each other. No matter what the future holds for you, me, and Paradis, I will be by your side.”

Levi’s shoulders drop as he lays his head on your chest. You love this man deeply and you know he loves you too.

And whatever happens, you’ll face it together.

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aspoonofsugar · 1 year

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Little Ruby Riding Hood

Thoughts on this week's episode! A little warning that I may use pictures (I'll try to avoid the most disturbing/brutal ones). Suicide and self harm warnings also obviously apply. Take care!

This episode is a very short version of LRRH. I will probably write a longer meta on Ruby's allusion so far when the season is over. Still, here comes some preliminary thoughts.

(LITTLE) RED RIDING HOOD

The episode starts with Ruby lost in the Woods:

Her dialogue with Little here is symbolically a discussion with herself. Little is Ruby. They are the Little to her Red Riding Hood. They are her child-self. They are the part, who can lead her back to the others:

Ruby: Where am I? Little: It's okay, I can guide us back!

Little is a guide. Inexperienced sure, but they are still meant to guide Ruby, so that she can find herself. They point out a possible way for her to go home:

Little: You shouldn't run off, though. You all gotta stick together, if you wanna go home.

And yet, Ruby, who is always in favor of "sticking together" refuses this. She lashes out at Little and insists they should go back home. This is Ruby's last attempt to protect that very frail part of herself she feels she is slowly losing.

Little ventured in an amazing journey to help Ruby, just like Ruby ventured in an amazing journey to save Remnant. Little has promised to help Ruby, just like Ruby has promised to help everyone else. Ruby really doesn't want Little to turn out like her, so she pushes them away. In a last desperate attempt to protect them. To protect somebody. To protect herself.

And yet, what Ruby does is simply to repress and push away a vital part of who she is. She symbolically loses another piece of her heart:

The butterfly symbolism is still a little mysterious, but I am starting to think butterflies symbolize the heart. This is why they have little hearts on their wings. Ruby wants to protect her child-self, but she goes at it wrong. She can't take care of Little by leaving them in the woods alone. She should cradle them and hug them. Remember the Auction: "Hugs are very valuable!". A hug is the price for a little mouse. A hug is what you need to take care of the child-self. It means Ruby should nurture this part of her, but she chooses to leave it behind instead. She is scared she can't protect it, so she tries to cut it off entirely. Except this is something a person really can't do.

So, our (Little) Red Riding Hood keeps wandering in the Woods and enters its darkest part:

Ruby steps into the Darkness acre, where Neo has built her base. This means that Ruby is metaphorically entering her own shadow and facing everything she has been repressing. Everything she has been refusing to address. This everything takes on a very peculiar form.

THE GRANDMOTHER'S HOUSE (NEO'S TEA PARTY)

Here, the small wooden cottage has the shape of Neo's fancy pink palace.

Pink is the color of the "id", when it comes to Neo's color scheme. Fittingly, this huge mansion is just a manifestation of it. A box filled with repressed feelings and unconfessed fears.

Both Neo's:

And Ruby's:

Differently from her literary counter-part, Ruby steps into the palace fully expecting to find a bad wolf. What she isn't expecting is to fight her inner wolf.

RUBY'S ID, EGO AND SUPER-EGO

We are ruled by thirds. In fashion we compare no more than three colors. Our personalities are defined by the id, the ego and the super-ego- always warring vying for control. But our goal is harmony. Balance. (Roman Holiday)

According to Freud, id, ego and super-ego are the three parts of the self. The id is where the person’s fear and wishes lie. It is a primitive and instinctive force. The super-ego is instead society’s expectations. It is where morality and ideals are. These two parts are balanced by the ego, that mediates between wishes and duties.

Id, ego and super-ego are central to Ruby's story, as much as they are to Neo's. Specifically, Ruby's 3 parts are conveyed through 3 different characters of her fairy tale:

The Hunter is the super-ego: Ruby is a Huntress. It is her role and purpose in society. It is what everyone expects her to be - someone who is moral and idealistic and selfless.

Little Red Riding Hood is the ego: Ruby is Ruby Rose. But what does it even mean to be Ruby Rose? How does one Ruby Rose? Ruby has been so focused on being the best huntress she can be, that she has forgotten to be her own self.

The Wolf is the id: The id is described as the inner beast, which embodies all a person fears and represses. Well, what does Ruby repress? Easy, all the negativity she has been accumulating since Beacon, even before... since Summer "died".

Ruby has so far been living as a walking super-ego. She has been prioritizing her mission, her role as a leader, as a Huntress. By doing so she has developed a dangerous overlapping between her idealized self-image (super-ego) and who she really is (ego). Basically, Ruby is unbalanced because she has been ignoring all her darkest parts (the id), which are now fighting to come out.

Ruby's big bad wolf is symbolically her inner shadows, which are manifesting themselves this volume. They are stronger than ever and eventually Ruby loses to them. This is why, tragically Ruby's "death" is framed as a suicide. It is because she is losing to her own inner beast. A beast she refused to see and that is now conquering her. She sips the tea and is eaten by the earth. Symbolically, she swallows herself.

Well, this is speaking metaphorically... Because the truth is that Ruby has met 2 big bad wolves this volume. Two evil beasts that have been praying at her already weakened sense of self, driving her to a point of no-return.

TWO WOLVES

Neo and the CC are Ruby's big bad wolves. They have both been grooming and psychologically manipulating her, so that she would wear herself out and give up on who she is. Moreover, they both share similarities with the fairy tale's villain.

For example, both hide behind disguises.

Neo uses her illusions to mask herself to the point that when Ruby enters her palace she can't find her. Just like the Wolf attacks LRRH dressed up as the Grandmother, Neo uses Ruby's loved ones against her. Let's highlight that at one point the eyes are the only thing giving her away:

"What mismatched eyes that you have"

The Curious Cat's disguise is even more effective because they present themselves as a friend, a helper:

Blake: Guys, the Curious Cat was described as an ally, with an appetite for information.

(Hint: the reference to appetite > The Big Bad Wolf is a villain, who consumes their victims by eating them)

I don't know if others were more clever than me, but I did register this line as suspicious and yet chose to ignore it. We are in a volume about challenging simplistic narratives, but the CC is so charming, so likable. They go out of their way to help and their words do sound so smart and wise. They seem to embody the theme of change and transformation this season is about, right? So, why should they be evil? Why should we worry about them? And yet, this is the Big Bad Wolf of the fairy tale in a nutshell. A charming trickster able to enchant others through their words.

Moreover, the hints were all there:

The CC trying to eat Little in the op, for example. I mean, isn't it suspicious that Ruby's inner child is represented by a mouse and that the so-called helper this season is a cat? Of all things? And yet, here we are! We didn't notice that the Big Bad Wolf is not a dog, but a cat (we learnt nothing from Madoka).

On this note, let me add that the series sets up both Neo and the CC as Ruby's wolves pretty early on. At least, since the market scene. Let me elaborate:

Isn't this basket pretty adorable and LRRH-like? Yes, it is because by that point... we are already in LRRH. This whole volume is LRRH masked as Alice in Wonderland. Little Red is wandering in unknown woods with her little basket full of flowers. To be specific a white lily (Weiss), a belladonna (Blake) and a sunflower (Yang). While she is minding her own business, 2 big bad wolves approach her:

Neo's Jabberwalkers come and destroy the market while they are looking for Ruby

The Cat is the one guiding her throughout the market, just like the Wolf points LRRH towards the woods and convinces her to pick up flowers

In short, Neo and the CC have been playing the part of the wolves since the beginning. It is just that they have gone at it in opposite ways. As a matter of fact Neo is meant to hide the Cat.

Neo is the illusory wolf- we are led to believe she is going to be the Big Bad Villain of the volume. She is associated with the scary Jabberwalker, which are themselves a perfect stand-in for the black dangerous beast. Not only that, but in the Ever After Neo's semblance is so strong to the point of becoming a virus for the world itself:

And yet, in the end (in the bigger scheme of things mind you... I am not downplaying her role in Ruby's attempt to kill herself) she is simply the owner of the cottage (the big pink mansion) Ruby goes to meet. There she is surprised by her own inner wolves and by the true Big Bad Wolf, who has been manipulating everyone the whole time.

The CC is the true Big Bad Wolf. The one who tricks LRRH while she is in an unknown place. They lead the child on a dangerous path (symbolically towards self-annihilation). They bring Ruby to Herb knowing his hallucinations would weaken Ruby's sense of self. They act irresponsible, so that the others would stick with them and leave Ruby alone. They keep asking questions, which are disturbing for Ruby. Like, how are they going to stop Salem, for example? They are the one, who literally try to eat Ruby up:

CC: It's okay Little Huntress... I can be you instead...

And once they fail, they choose to eat the owner of the cottage. The Wolf who ate LRRH:

At the same time, these 2 wolves bring a lot to the table. Let's see...

RUBY'S 2 BEREAVEMENTS

Neo and the CC are 2 important foils to Ruby, when it comes to the theme of grief.

Neo's grief over Torchwick parallels Ruby's own towards Penny. Torchwick and Penny are two people, who represented a safe place for Neo and Ruby. In a sense, they are both symbols of almost a childhood paradise:

Illusion Roman: Always loved the idea of a place to run away from it all. To do whatever you want! I offered that to her back on Remnant.

Penny: It'll be just like Beacon again!

Their deaths bring back old wounds and traumas related to Neo and Ruby's parents and set both characters on self-destructive spirals. It is just Neo projects her frustrations over Ruby (externilizes), while Ruby lashes out at her own self (internalizes). Their foiling reaches its climax this episode, where they both are shown suicidal.

The CC's foiling with Ruby subtly addresses instead a deeper and older loss:

CC: I need to know everything. But, more than anything, I need to know why my makers left me here!

I wasn't dreaming when they told me you were gone I was wide awake and feeling that they had to be wrong How could you leave me when you swore that you would stay? Now I'm trapped inside a nightmare every single f'ing day

The CC is angry at their makers (the Gods probably) because they left them behind. Isn't it exactly what happened between Ruby and Summer? Summer disappeared with no explanation and left Ruby to fulfill a role. A mission she can't hope to accomplish. Just like the CC can't hope to fulfill their purpose to "know everything".

PERSONAL VILLAIN VS GREATER SCOPE VILLAIN

Neo is a Personal Villain to Ruby, while the CC is the Greater Scope Villain of the volume.

Neo specifically hates Ruby. She is the one who manages to break her, much more than the CC can because she knows her best. She knows the people she lost and what would hurt her the most. She literally kills Ruby's child self (Little), sending her over the edge. She is metaphorically the wolf, who swallows Ruby whole:

Hint: Ruby transitions into the sugar cube

However, she is not really a danger for the Ever After, despite it all:

Illusion Roman: With your semblance stronger than ever now, we could take over this whole absurd place! Eh? Why not? Offing Little Red can't be all you wanted?! Right?

When Illusory Roman proposes to conquer the Ever After, Neo simply breaks because what was keeping her together was her anger towards Ruby.

The Curious Cat is the opposite. They don't seem to have any malice towards Ruby specifically. Still, they target her because they can sense her self breaking. They can see her depression and realize they can take advantage of that. However, they clearly represent a danger for the world. The moment they possess Neo, they immediately run toward the Tree. The implication here is that they are gonna use Neo's power to try and corrupt/destroy the Tree and run away.

CINDER AND SALEM

This last point brings us to this final juxtaposition. What is happening this volume clearly foreshadows Ruby's final conflict in the series, aka the one she is gonna live when it comes to Cinder and Salem.

Neo is a stand-in for Cinder

Neo is a malicious villain who personally hurts Ruby. She targets her out of frustration for something Ruby did at Beacon (killing Roman) and projects on the child her own unsolved issues. She keeps going at Ruby until she kills Little and succeeds at breaking her.

Cinder is exactly the same. She blames Ruby for her defeat at Beacon, she keeps scheming against her until she kills Penny and makes Ruby fall. In a sense, the situation Ruby finds herself in this volume is all Cinder's fault. Cinder is the one who destroys Beacon and kills Pyrrha. Cinder is the one who takes the relics and kills Penny. Cinder is the one who makes Ruby and Neo fall together in the Ever After.

This is why the volume opens up with Cinder's words:

Cinder: And you… should have never been born.

Cinder might not be in the Ever After, but she and not Neo is the one who kickstarts Ruby's suicidal spiral.

In short, Neo and Cinder are two people, who have done unspeakable harm to Ruby. They are two enemies Ruby has no reason to pity. At the same time, they both meet (will meet in Cinder's case) a fate worse than death:

The CC possesses Neo and symbolically forces their own voice through her. This is the worst that can happen to Ice-Cream Girl, who has spent her whole life fighting to affirm her will through her own personal silent voice. Right now, she is instead nothing more than a puppet. She is at the Cat's mercy, an empty host, who speaks the CC's words.

Cinder is clearly going to be turned into a Wolf-Like creature by Salem. Her Grimm Arm is slowly taking hold of her body and it is possible that by the end of the series, Salem will gain full control over her. The child who fought so hard for freedom will end up a slave once again. All her magical power used by an evil Stepmother.

The CC is a stand-in for Salem

(You are welcome for this joke)

Curious Cat: You do not go to the tree, the tree goes to you. Unless, of course, you're me, you see. Yang: Not even a little bit. Curious Cat: Well, that’s your problem. It’s a matter of perspective, I’m afraid.

This exchange is brilliant because the CC is revealing the truth about themselves, but in such a way that RWBY and the viewers are gonna misinterpret it.

The CC is described as Alyx's guide, so RWBY think they are the only one, who can go to the tree, as they please. They even state as much, right? The tree goes to people, unless you are the CC. Except, these words can be interpreted in two different ways. It is a matter of perspective, you see?

It is not that the CC goes to the tree, but rather that the tree never goes to the CC:

CC: I'm not like the other afterings here. I was cursed with curiosity! I need to know everything!

The CC's purpose is to know everything, but that can't never be accomplished. The Cat's curiosity can never be satisfied, so they can never fulfill their role and ascend. Curiosity doesn't kill the Cat, but rather keeps it alive. Trapped forever. They can never move on. They can never change. Just like Salem.

Both the CC and Salem are creatures excluded from the cycle of Life and Death. This is why they resent others. This is why they go out of their way to hurt and manipulate.

The Cat isn't change, but rather wants to change. This is why symbolically they eat butterflies:

They eat the symbol of metamorphosis and absorb their hearts, so that then they can manipulate others.

They can't change, but so desperately want to change, that they possess others' bodies in an attempt to evolve, to be different, to grow. They are not the embodyment of the theme, but rather the negation of the negation, so the worst possible declination of it. What is worse than someone who refuses to change? Easy, someone who wants to, but never can.

Similarly, they present themselves like the embodyment of empathy. They help people reach the Tree safely right? They show mercy for others and feel for them, right? Except they are the negation of the negation. They are empathy used to control. They are manipulation to the point their power brought to the extreme is a very disturbing way to put yourself into others' shoes.

In short, the CC presents themselves as an ally to the Tree:

Jaune: The Cat’s role in the Ever After. I figured it out later, but the Cat came back for me once Alyx left. When people lose their way here, the Cat, convinces them, somehow. Either to keep performing their role, or, to go to the tree, get a new one. The Cat calls it “healing”, but… it’s manipulation. The Cat was never helping Alyx or you. Their purpose here is to feed the tree, to keep the cycle going.

But they may very well be its greatest enemy:

CC: No, no, no, no! I needed her!

They don't want Ruby or the others to reach the Tree. Rather they want to control them before they can.

The last scene seems to suggest the Cat is headed toward the Tree and this episode also implies Neo's semblance might be able to completely conquer the Ever After. It is probable the CC will try to discover how the Tree works and even to corrupt the whole system in order to reach their freedom.

This is probably what Salem's final objective is. The Tree is alchemy, after all. It is the cycle of life and death. It is nature. It is a metaphor for what the Gods themselves represent. It is the circle Salem has been excluded from because she doesn't truly understand it. It is probable that she wants to destroy it completely. Maybe the twist behind Salem's objective is really just a matter of degree.

She might not really want simply to kill herself, or to destroy Remnant. At least, not just that. She might be willing to destroy everything, which means to annihilate the Gods. This might seem sympathetic, but symbolically it will lead to the destruction of the cycle. To a world where nothing is born nor destroyed anymore. To an empty world. It would lead to nihilism.

Whatever the case, the CC's fate might give us some hints on what Salem's ending will be. The same goes for Neo and Cinder. Plot-wise, thus, the parallelism between Neo/Cinder and CC/Salem is rather clear. This is true even when it comes to Ruby herself. Neo/Cinder wants to kill Ruby, while CC/Salem wants her alive for their own plan. CC/Salem fails to obtain Ruby for their plan, but ironically ends up using Neo/Cinder, instead. The CC wants to possess Ruby, but eventually controls Neo and it is implied Salem wants to turn Ruby into a Hound, which will be Cinder's destiny.

Neo and Cinder are 2 Big Bad Wolves, but they are also 2 people swallowed whole by Bigger and Badder Wolves (Salem and the CC). What should our LRRH do with them? And what would a Huntress do?

LITTLE RUBY RIDING HOOD'S DEATH AND REBIRTH

Little dies and so does Red Riding Hood. It is not by chance Ruby's suicidal attempt happens after her little mouse friend's death. Ruby fails to protect her innocent self, so she follows through. She is both the child, who is conquered by the darkness of the world and the hunter who fails to protect an innocent.

Still, we shouldn't really be worried! After all, isn't LRRH a story of death and rebirth?

Little Red Riding Hood is swallowed whole by the Wolf, but then she is saved by the Hunter. Both the Grandmother and Hood are, actually. Both the adult and the child. Both Ruby and Little.

So, how is Ruby going to be saved?

On the one hand she is going to be doing some personal growth herself. On the other hand she clearly needs to be helped by others.

The Tree is clearly going to help Ruby reflect on herself. That said, this is clearly not sufficient. The Tree isn't a free theraphy session, but a neutral process. Through it you can be reborn and evolve, yes, just like the Paper Pleasers are planning on doing:

Purple Paper Pleaser: I do not wish to be rude, but our work has been completed for quite some time. Because of us, the land is beautiful, but we have realized that like ourselves, it is also very delicate. We would like to make something that is pleasing, but also resilient. Because of this, we are ready to leave ourselves and merge with the Tree, so that it might return us as something new.

Still, the Tree can also lead to regression:

Herbalist: This is how a king winds up a prince…

In order to go through a positive change, you need to know who you are now and what you want to become:

Herbalist: We all have our titles, our roles to play, but in order to help you become whatever it is you need to become, you should really have a better understanding of what you are now.

Which is something Ruby clearly doesn't know, right now. This is where she will need the help of a Hunter, well of a group of Huntresses:

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In the same volume our LRRH gets swallowed WBY all affirm they are Huntresses. Similarly, when the Jabberwalker is about to "eat" Ruby, it is her team that comes to the rescue. Ruby has helped them all go through their hardest times, so it is only obvious they are gonna return the favor now.

The question is "How"?

It is entirely possible they are going to save Ruby as a team, which is what is happening for sure to a certain degree. That said, I would like if they still ended up fulfilling different roles (take this as a headcanon of mine).

MOTHER, BEAST AND HUNTER

RWBY are all parts of each other's allusions, to a degree.

RWB are the too hot (Ruby), too cold (Weiss) and just right (Blake) to Yang's Golidlocks.

Ruby is the Rose to Blake's Beast and Weiss and Yang her 2 complementary Beauties/Beasts.

Blake is the Forest Animals to Weiss's Snowhite, while Yang is the Little Robber Maiden to Weiss's Gerda. Finally, Ruby is both the Hunter to Weiss's Snowhite and the Rose Weiss's Gerda.

Well, the same may be true for Ruby's LRRH allusion.

Yang is the Mother

Ruby: If you thought we wouldn’t come for you, then you must’ve forgotten who raised me.

Yang is the person, who stepped in to fulfill Summer's role, even if she herself is just a kid. This volume even confirms this through the above line and we saw how Yang keeps comforting and checking in on Ruby. It is not by chance Yang is the most upset by Ruby running off and is definately the most worried. This is also why this is so heartbreaking:

Yang sees her little sister attempting suicide in front of her eyes and there is nothing she can do. I doubt this is something, which is gonna be without consequences or that it is gonna be solved in just 2 episodes.

Rather, I believe this is set-up for a future conflict. The way I see it, Yang has a final conflict to go through before she can finish her arc, but it won't be in this volume, but rather in Vacuo, where she will meet Raven and Summer again. Basically, I see this volume as set-up for Yang's final push.

When it comes to Ruby, I think it is obvious Yang needs to let go. She has been fulfilling her role as Ruby's big sister and parental substitude the best she can. Still, the point is that she isn't Ruby's mother and that Ruby herself is going to grow up.

Yang is the Mother who sends LRRH in the woods and can only trust her to be safe and to come back. Surely, this episode is not exactly a hopeful beginning of this process. Especially, if one considers Yang has just started a relationship with Blake. A relationship, which is hers and hers alone. A relationship Ruby lashes out against in frustration before she leaves and tries to end herself.

Now, obviously the problem isn't BB, but I wouldn't be surprised if what happens here leads Yang to a little bit of regression. In the end, she needs to accept what happens here is not her fault, that she can't always be there for Ruby and save her at the expense of herself. That bad things happen, but also to trust that Ruby is strong enough to take care of herself. And most importantly that her little sister has also other people, who look out for her.

Blake is the Wolf

Black the Beast descends from shadows

Blake is the beast who lives in shadows and meets LRRH. Differently from the Big Bad Wolf, though, Blake is the one charmed by Ruby's innocence and optimism. Blake is the Wolf who genuinelly befriends LRRH and is inspired to be better by her.

She doesn't lead LRRH into the Shadows, but rather is led into the light by the young Huntress.

This volume makes it clear. Blake is at her brightest and basically a spitting image of Ruby's younger self. Will she manage to inspire Ruby back?

Weiss is the Hunter

Weiss is the Hunter who kills the Young Boar in Snowhite. This is why her Boarbatusk's summon is symbolic of her Huntress self:

Port on Weiss killing the Boarbatusk: Bravo! Bra-vo! It appears we are indeed in the presence of a true Huntress-in-training!

But who is the one who helps her kill the Grimm?

Ruby: Weiss! Go for its belly! There's no armor underneath-

Sure, Weiss is annoyed, but it is exactly by doing what Ruby says that she kills the Boarbatusk. In general, the minor conflict Ruby and Weiss have around this time is also what leads them both to grow. Ruby starts working to become a better leader and Weiss realizes what she must do to become a better Huntress.

Ruby is the one who shows Weiss the path forward. LRRH's Hunter is after all the epitome of fairy tale's Hunters, so he shows Snowhite's unsure Hunter how it's done.

Weiss grows as a Huntress because Ruby is there to inspire her. So, it is now her turn to inspire her partner back. To show her what it means being a Huntress. This is probably why Weiss is the one, who is able to relate to Ruby the most this episode:

Weiss: Maybe she didn't feel like she could... Ruby has always been the one to get us through the hard times. We say things like "We believe in you!" "We can count on you!" I know we mean well, but...

She is indeed a Wise Huntress :P

But how is Ruby's team gonna reach her? How can they go to the tree?

CC: You still don't get it, do you? It's not a place you go. It's a place you know.

They might need a Knight in Rusted Armor.

A GUIDE TO THE TREE

CC: Oh, the Rusted Knight... Goodness, am I tired of your little sob story? You can't even accept your own futility!

This episode clarifies a lot of what is going on between Jaune and the Cat.

Specifically, the Cat hates Jaune because they could never take advantage of him. As a matter of fact Jaune's coping mechanism prevents him to change, so the Cat could never really make use of our Knight. We know they tried after Alyx and Lewis left, but Jaune refuses ascension. He refuses to let go, which makes him unable to change, but also makes him useless as a potential host for the Cat.

At the same time, this episode solves the ambiguity around the conflict between Jaune and the Cat. Jaune is right about the CC, but wrong about the tree. The Cat doesn't want to feed the tree, but rather to feed themselves.

This brings us to Jaune's current situation. He has spent years preparing himself for when team RWBY would make the Ever After. He has been protecting the paper pleasers and studying a way out for his friends. All to be a hero. And yet, he utterly fails. He loses the paper pleasers, Ruby and is bested by the Cat all in one day.

He has been holding on to the idealistic image of his friends and of Ruby especially. Ruby is the hero and once she comes everything will be fine. This is why he dives after Crescent Rose when he falls. He keeps believing in Ruby, even if eveything seems lost. This is also why he is so frustrated at Ruby when he meets her again. This Ruby isn't the ideal hero he has been trying to emulate. She isn't the hero he has been waiting for. This is why he is in focus during Weiss's speech:

It is because this speech calls him out especially.

So, what now?

Let's summarize:

Jaune needs to move on and to change. Symbolically, he needs to let go of his heroic persona

WBYJ all need to reach the tree, but to do so they need to "know it"

Now, it makes no sense for WBY to ascend. They made clear they do not need it in the Herbalist's episode. For the whole team to spiral and lose their purpose after Ruby leaves would be counterproductive. Still, Jaune does need to ascend. He needs to move on and to be remade into his younger self. He is the only one for whom ascension can be a positive development.

If he accepts to ascend, he might be able to guide his friends toward Ruby. In this way he can be the guide he has been planning to be for them all this time.

He can lead them not as a Knight in shining armor, but as a person who accepts his own pain and vulnerability. As a person, who in order to grow accepts his own "futility" and still moves forward.

By the way, they may all find a way to reach the tree, but Jaune accepting ascension in order to help Ruby is still gonna be a thing.

RUBY, THE LITTLE HUNTRESS

What will happen when they all reach Ruby? I guess Ruby is gonna choose who she wants to become. I doubt the point is that this choice will solve all of Ruby's problems. Rather, I think that symbolically it should convey that Ruby accepts who she is. She is gonna affirm her willingness to keep on living as herself. Even if she is flawed.

This could happen in a number of different ways, but what's sure is that she should come to terms with Penny's death. It is interesting the revelation of Jaune killing Penny has been postponed so much tbh. If this piece of information isn't going to make things spiral (Neo succeeded all by herself), then it might be as @hamliet suggests. It might offer a catharsis.

Right now, Ruby believes Penny died as a child left alone by everybody:

Illusion Penny: Can you imagine what that's like? To be completely and utterly failed time and again by someone who meant the world to you?

She believes that Penny negated herself one final time with her sacrifice. Still, this isn't what happened. Penny doesn't die as a child, but as an adult. Not as a creation, but as a creator. Her final choice is not a negation of who she is, but rather an affirmation of herself. Penny Polendina is the best friend ever and her final act is one of friendship, love and faith. She chooses not her duty (to protect the relics, to give the powers to Weiss), but her personal wants (to fight for her friends, to say goodbye to Winter).

She is killed, but she still negates Cinder what she wants and proves she is no puppet.

Ruby needs to realize this and to accept she herself needs to do the same. She needs to affirm herself in all her contradictions and to move forward. Not because things will necessary get better or because it is her duty. But because that is who she is and it is only by pushing through that she can really evolve and change.

In short, she needs to accept that she is Little and that she is a Huntress. She is Little Red Riding Hood and the Hunter. She is not perfect, but she can grow. She is in pain, but she has others. She will choose who she wants to become in due time.

Little: I'm sure it will all make sense eventually.

She is the Little Huntress.

And what do Huntresses do?

Blake: Huntresses are heroes. We protect those who can’t protect themselves.

A Huntress saves others, so we go back to the situation at hand. It is probable they all will have to fight the Cat to save the Ever After and escape. At the same time, this brings us to the question.

What about Neo?

Ruby and the others have absolutely no obligation to save her. Neo has been selfish, petty and cruel. Her and Torchwick have hurt others and their own plan to bring Grimms at Beacon is what ultimately kills Roman. So, why should Ruby go out of her way to save Neo?

And yet, a Huntress saves others. Neo is monstruous, but she is also a person, who is broken and empty. She is Ruby's jungian shadow and usually you need to save your shadow, not to kill it. So, I think Ruby is gonna show mercy to Neo.

Unless the point is Ruy regresses a little bit here or is not ready for the, which may be.

Who knows? Maybe even in their case, addressing what happened openly is what can lead to a truce. Ruby did not kill Torchwick. One of the Nevermore Roman and Neo helped smuggling in did. Roman gives in to his own inner negativity, which makes him especially tasty for the Grimm. Roman is a victim of his own mentality and Neo needs to accept it if she wants to move forward.

As for where Neo will go, it is up to debate. Personally, I think her joining the group by this point could end up cheapening her. My favourite headcanon is that she works out her issues in the Ever After for a while. It would be a powerful metaphor for the healing power of fiction and stories. Moreover, if her semblance ends up damaging the Ever After, she may choose to help restore it by using that same power. It would surely be an interesting turn of events.

What's sure is that Ruby and Little are gonna be fine and that this volume's finale is gonna foreshadow several things when it comes to Ruby, Cinder, Salem and the story as a whole. Let's dive into the climax next week!

#rwby #rwby meta #rwby volume 9 #rwby spoilers #tw: suicide #ruby rose #neopolitan #curious cat #jaune arc #little #weiss schnee #blake belladonna #yang xiaolong #once upon an allusion #my meta

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starqueensthings · 1 year

Text

Colder Weather: Part One

Summary: a two-chapter (nice try, Holly! It’s three) ficlet that follows Post-Stassis/Pirate Kix as he navigates the see-saw of an unexpected love that he doesn't think he deserves, and the trauma of his past.

Pairing: Kix x Fem!Reader

POV/WC/Rating: 2nd, 4570, Teen + up

Warnings: extensive references of survivors guilt, grief, and mentions of previous character death. Seggsy time is implied but not described. This is emotional (it needs to be, so I'm not sorry)

A/N: the context of this ficlet won’t make much sense unless you’re decently familiar with the legends version of Kix’s life post-war (it might even be canon now? Not sure…). If you haven't listened to the song that inspired this little ficlet, I highly recommend you give it a listen; it's truly a lyrical masterpiece.

Chapter One | Chapter 1.5 | Chapter Two | ao3

“I want to see you again, but I’m stuck in colder weather. Maybe tomorrow will be better. Can I call you then? [...] Well, it’s a winding road when you’re in the lost-and-found. You’re a lover, I’m a runner, and we go round and round. I love you, but I leave you. I don’t want to, but I need you.” Colder Weather by Zac Brown Band

You’d long since memorized his movements; long since perfected this dance, having performed the passionate choreography of this duet with him countless times.

It always began with the sound of his speeder bike nearing your quiet cottage; the roaring of the engine muffled only partially by the towering hedges surrounding your acre of secluded paradise. That rumble so artificial amongst the constant tittering of nature that it took a mere fraction of a second to recognize it, and even less time to send a fervor coursing through your veins so rigorously that your hands simply abandoned whatever task that had been keeping them occupied.

Triggered by the sound of his approach, your feet took you earnestly through the front door and out into the gravel drive. A small smile, often concealed by the expanse of a thick, dark beard, tugged his handsome features upwards as he swung a leg over the seat of his bike, helmet clutched absently in one hand and arms stretched wide in a motion so welcoming, even the sheer power of the Force couldn’t have kept you from leaping into them.

He never failed to match your enthusiasm, scooping you clean off your slippered feet and into the familiar tight embrace that you’d spent weeks longing to be secured in. Hushed coos of “Mesh’la” amongst other breathy salutations were words that never needed voicing; the way his eyes danced reverently across your features spoke more volumes than any muttered term of endearment, any hushed apology for his absence. Watching the crease between his brows soften at the soft brush of your thumb against his cheek was a feeling that could have sustained life for all eternity; every caress of your fingers atop his skin powered by an ineffable desire to remind yourself of him, to remind him of you.

But there was nothing that consumed you as entirely as the dance itself… nothing that quite melted your mind like the way he laid you down on the soft cotton of that old patchwork quilt; the way that he stripped himself of his rigid encasement; the way his eyes locked on yours, twinkling with an unspoken promise that he was about to make up for his repeated extended absences… all the transmissions that he’d failed to respond to… the commitment that he continuously denied you.

And while even the ghost of his touch still set your very nerves alight, time had seen the unpredictability of his visits robbed of their spontaneity; lust replaced with a devastating love; passion diminished by the anticipation of his impending departure. The dance had become less of a dance, and more of a contemptuous game: how many seconds would lapse in the forlorn quiet between when the heat of his skin departed yours, and the door swung closed behind him? How many shaky breaths would leave your lungs in the too-short span of time that it took for the shadow of the unseen monster, forever-perched atop his shoulders, to rob his eyes of the twinkle only freshly illuminated by the return of your embrace?

The answer: always too few.

He would only ever grant himself a dozen-or-so deep breaths to dwell in the lingering serenity once the cresting waves of pleasure had subsided, the heaving of his chest eventually stilling to match the motionlessness of the incipient dawn.

Unable to withstand the suffocating languor, a poignant sigh would trigger the initiation of his exodus, body following the command from his anguished mind to climb from the bed and methodically redress himself in that disguising, blue plastoid kit. A tender, whiskery kiss was always your parting gift. Lips void of the passion that had seen them so ravenously devour yours only minutes prior, now gently atop your forehead in a wordless goodbye-for-now; the roar of the engine echoing amongst the whispering pines the perfect soundtrack to the disappointment that pulled shameful tears from your eyes.

Yet… sometimes… on nights like tonight, an inexplicable force inside of him would demand that he dawdle, and if the urge to flee stalled on its way from brain to body for long enough, he’d roll toward you, fold his arm underneath his head, and trail a gentle fingertip along all his favourite parts of your body: the fleshy space between neck and shoulder where he often sought the comforting fragrance of your skin; the shallow dimples on your lower back, perched just above the rolling swells of muscle that he could barely keep his hands off of; the gaps between your fingers that so-perfectly housed his, as if they were ten adjacent pieces of a puzzle crafted by divine artistry.

Time had yet to reveal any explanation for the mystifying tenderness of his touch… it didn’t seem possible that such rough hands could trail so gently against your skin, yet his calloused fingers could have been draped in velvet for how softly they graced your most sensitive areas. And his pillow talk? It was poetry. His honeyed voice would utter whispered stories of glorious mountain ranges on far away planets while the delicate strokes of his fingertips ghosted atop the swells of your hips. He’d speak of the freckles smattered across your cheeks, and how they almost perfectly mirrored the night sky in Wild Space where the stars were so many, that astronomy had become an obsolete science, the citizens opting to merely look upon them for their unrivalled celestial magnificence. And when he would speak of the vibrant array of wild flowers that adorned the meadows of Felucia, he’d scoop your hand into his and kiss each individual knuckle, as if the immense power to blossom such beauty dwelled inside the fingers interlaced with his.

But they were rare, those quiet moments, their emergence so ephemeral that even the span of a somnolent blink would have seen them escape your awareness and vanish into the past, and they were as devastating as they were infrequent. Laced not with the dread of his imminent departure, those near silent moments of deep connection were saturated in a hope so ensnaring that its warmth momentarily overshadowed the pain of his repeated abandonment, and you became enraptured by the could-be’s… the if-only’s… the maybe’s.

Maybe… maybe tonight would be the night that the orange glow emerging atop the horizon did not trigger his departure. Perhaps this would be the time that he’d stay and spend the morning with you, his muscular arms locked around your chest as you ceased to fight the blissful drowsiness engulfing your bodies, dozing together in the first rays of the ambient light. Perhaps he’d be so comfortable, there in your arms, that the ever-present impulse to run, forever-clenched like an iron fist around his soul, would be finally suffocated by the sheer power of your love for him.

Those optimistic moments often saw you rambling, thoughts slipping easily from mind to mouth in a desperate attempt to keep him connected to you; resolute in keeping him both physically and mentally present; urgently trying to protect him from the monster on his shoulders long enough for him to realize that everything he could ever want was lying peacefully beside him. Periodically, if your chosen topic was one he found particularly amusing, his eyes would crinkle under the embrace of a smile, and — if the universe deemed you worthy that night — a hoarse chuckle would pour from his lips. Despite your continued pleas to the stars, it was a sound that graced your ears with a tragic infrequence, yet the way its radiance illuminated your soul had you shamelessly begging the universe that it continue to spill from his lips for all eternity.

But despite the prophetic bond that kept him returning to your side, only once had the bliss of your union softened his guard enough to let something… slip. Only once had he mentioned a brother: Jesse, a man spoken of thoughtlessly as Kix snickered through the recollection of a frantic speeder ride across the plains of Saleucami. But the music of his laughter utterly vanished upon voicing the name that he never meant to speak, the silence that filled its wake so polluted in unexpressed grief, that even the hushed sounds of your breath felt inappropriate, and despite having watched the light leave his eyes so often in the past, you’d never seen it replaced with a darkness as deep and as sorrowful as then.

“Tell me about him,” you probed instantly, hopeful that the delicate touch of your hand on his shoulder would be enough to ground him there in the bed with you; hopeful that the soft caress of your fingers would prevent him from conceding to his anguish, tossing the sheet aside and leaving you with nothing but the familiar sight of his retreating back and the bittersweet smell of him lingering on your pillow.

A ringing silence encompassed the room, broken only by the occasional chirp of an uninterested cricket nestled in the tall tufts of grass just outside the window, and the soft brush of dry leaves twirling amongst themselves in the warm gusts of midsummer’s breeze.

Speaking his brother’s name had rendered Kix momentarily muted and seemingly paralyzed, his eyes wide and affixed on an image that cruel memory had imprinted upon the ceiling above him. His breaths quickened, shoulder rising and falling rhythmically against your palm while his nostrils flared against the same onslaught of turmoil also knitting his brows together.

“Kix?” you probed in a soft whisper, fingers raising from the swell of his shoulder to gently stroke his hair. Those waves of black, sparsely peppered with the beginnings of grey, almost entirely concealed the remnants of a tattoo… letters… pieces of a phrase that he’d consistently evaded divulging. The ink, seemingly unblemished by time, looked as if it had only recently been embedded into his olive skin, yet his repeated, vague explanation of ‘I was a dumb kid’, suggested it was a choice made long ago; a decision made deep in a past he refused to speak of.

“Tell me about Jesse, my love…” you implored to his continued silence, watching with bated breath as the muscles in his jaw contracted in near perfect cadence with the bounding pulse in his neck.

“My brother…” Kix muttered, wrenching his eyes away from the ghost hovering over top of him, his solemn gaze dancing around the room in every direction but yours. “He… he died a long time ago. They all did.”

Your fingers faltered in their gentle strokes only for a breath, the impact of his words sending a crippling wave of aghast sadness throughout your body. “Who did?” It left your lips in barely more than a whisper, the unexpressed heartbreak lingering in the air robbing your tone of the intense curiosity that he so often shirked from and dissuaded, but despite the feigned composure precariously wrapped around your words, he offered no response. “Babe?” you pressed, your fingers abandoning their soothing dance along his temple to trail under his chin and weave themselves into the dark bristles of his beard. Hyperaware of the fragility of that moment, you gently cupped his jaw and turned his hagridden face toward you. “Who is ‘they’?”

His eyes finally met yours, darkened by apprehension and a deep sorrow that had yet to be explained. “My family.”

It was like nothing you’d ever heard before, the tension in his voice. Those two choked words constricted by a heavy lump in his throat, immediately transformed the gruff and callous pirate that you knew into a man so momentarily fragile that even the soft cotton sheets draped atop your bodies felt too abrasive. Even more unexpected was the mist gathering earnestly in his eyes, reflecting the moonlight beaming in the window as if suddenly encased in a dome of sparkling crystal.

Whatever was left of the feeble breath housed in your lungs escaped your parted lips in a devastated huff, your stomach torquing uncomfortably as your thoughts began to whirr frantically around your mind. Resisting the transcendent urge to lock him in an embrace, you merely swallowed the lump forming in your own throat and hastily blinked the wetness from your eyes. Like the quiet moment that he’d gifted you tonight, you were all-too aware that his vulnerability was fleeting; at risk of dismantling completely should you misstep. But this was the knowledge that you’d be aching to know your months… years; this was the monster on his shoulders that tore him from your bed… from your home so devastatingly often. You were desperate to know it all… desperate to know him.

“Your… your family?” Two stammering words were all that you could force from your parted lips as he wrenched his jaw from your grasp and turned his gaze back toward the ceiling, grinding his knuckles aggressively into his eyes.

A heavy sigh was his only response, teeth clicking from how tightly he ground them as he seemingly tried to rub the image of his dead family from his sight. You swallowed heavily again and perched yourself up on an elbow, leaning in to him with every intention of planting a protective kiss to his temple.

It might have been the shift of your posture that triggered it, or more likely, his patience diminished by your continued probes for information that he wasn’t willing to share, but a sudden banishment of lassitude saw him instantly tossing the sheet from his naked form and swinging his legs over the side of the bed.

Horrified and disappointed, you hurried to mirror his movements, kicking away the bunched cotton from your knees and pushing yourself to a kneeling position on the mattress directly behind him. Your lids narrowed to near-closed against the sudden ignition of the lamp on the nightstand, but neither the pain nor the spots now floating in your vision were enough to stop you from firmly wrapping your arms around his waist and holding him firmly against your chest. It wasn’t until you pressed your lips softly against his back, did he seem to notice your touch, and even then, his only acknowledgement was to peer, frowning, over his shoulder in your direction.

“Please, love,” you breathed against his skin. “Don’t run. Just talk to me.”

A soft sigh forced his shoulders into a defeated slump, and the tender drape of his hand atop his navel where yours were tightly clasped, lacked much of the warmth and intention that typically swaddled his touch.

“They were… tortured.” His head drooped sadly toward his chest, the previously urgent mission of collecting his clothes from their scattered placement on the floor, momentarily deferred.

It was the initial shock that he’d even answered you that forced your lips to still against his skin, forgoing the ever-present urge to pepper him with chaste kisses for the sake of listening to the response that he’d previously deemed you unworthy of getting, but it was the horrifying implications of his explanation that forced your eyes open and the pain that drenched his words as they left his scowling lips that sent an all-consuming chill down your spine.

“All of them,” he continued quietly to his lap, absently drumming his fingers against the back of your hand. “Just— just stripped of their will, their identities… and made to carry out the commands of a sick, sick man. They never stood a chance. No one could survive that.”

He permitted himself one last, poignant sigh, the emptying of his lungs pulling his posture away from your still poised kiss, and it wasn’t until his palm departed yours, fracturing the wreath of your arms around his waist, that you returned to some semblance of awareness. You could feel your heart hammering in your chest, beating against his back where the diffused glow of the lamp failed to soften the appearance of several misshapen scars along his shoulder; scars that you’d seen countless times previously, and had paid only little attention to.

Robbed of coherent thought by the repulsion surging through your veins, and rendered utterly speechless by the knowledge that you’d so desperately craved, you dropped your gaze to your knees, unmoving eyes watching them thrown intermittently into shadow as Kix moved about beside the bed, redressing himself in a suit of black compression, and the rigid, scuffed armament.

It was the soft scrape of plastoid against wood that broke you from your revolted torpor, his lean frame now completely encompassed in the blue suit that you despised, his helmet retrieved from the nightstand and hanging slackly from a gloved hand at his side. The sight of his impending departure returned you to a jarring cognizance and sent you frantically scrambling from the bed, bare feet ignoring the bite of the cold floor as you dashed toward the chair beside the window and collected the robe that you’d unceremoniously tossed onto it hours previously.

“Wait, Kix!”

You clumsily thrust your fists into the arms of the silk garment, your entire body laced with an exigent need to reach the doorway before he did. He couldn’t leave this time, not now… not now that he was finally opening up, finally sharing something other than trivial grievances about his crew members. He needed to know what you thought… how you felt. You had to tell him that none of it mattered to you… none of it made any difference. Except it did. It made all the difference. You thought you loved him then. That was nothing compared to now. And there was nothing that would stop you from loving him; not a past full of trauma, not tears leaking from his eyes, not the whispers that he denied hearing when the room got too quiet. None of it made a difference to you except that it did, and you would willingly spend the rest of your life banishing the ghosts that haunted his every move if he would just let you.

“Can’t— can’t you stay this time?” you pleaded from your perch in the doorway, hastily tying a knot in the sash of your robe. “Even just a little longer?”

The snort that left his nose at the sight of your position, arms wide and clutching each side of the door frame in some pitiful semblance of a barricade, was anything but genuine, betrayed by the failure of the smile on his lips to crinkle his eyes. “Come on, Mesh’la,” he cooed, absently shifting the armoured belt around his waist. “You know I can’t.”

“Yes you can,” you argued, refusing to let the softness of his gaze weaken any of your resolve. “You just don’t. There’s a difference and you know that.”

The desperate sadness that encompassed your words surprised both sets of ears; you hadn’t intended for the sentiment to leave your lips drenched in such disappointment, yet his departure tonight felt more like a robbery than it ever had; stealing a fractured piece of you and leaving nothing but a shadow behind to replace it.

That small smile slipped from his features and he froze, upturned helmet held slackly at his side as he hung his head to his chest again. Your heart drummed heavily in your ears, the lump in your throat threatening to all but suffocate you as he stepped slowly forward, the old wood floor beneath you creaking and shifting under the weight of his heavy boots.

“Please don’t start this again, Mesh’la,” he begged in a whisper, tenderly tucking a displaced lock of hair behind your ear as his eyes flickered back and forth between yours. “We’ve been over this. I… I don’t want this for you. You deserve a better life than what I ca—”

“I want this life,” you choked, chin threatening to quiver under the intense duress of your welling disappointment. “I promise— no, listen!— I promise, Kix. I love you more than everything that you’ve been through. In spite of it all… because of it all. Just trust me. Stay with me this time. Let me— let me prove it to you. Let me sho—”

“I know you love me, Mesh’la,” he interrupted, gently cupping your trembling chin and guiding your jaw upwards to look directly into your eyes. “I have never doubted it for a second. In another time… another life, I’d be able to give you back the love you deserve, but… I’m too sad of a man, now. I’m too angry… too volatile… too restless. No matter where I go or what I do, I can’t stomach my past, and I love you enough to not let you suf—”

“I’ll suffer if I choose to!” you blurted, voice thickening in earnest. “I’ll suffer with you. It’s my choice, and I choose you, so just choose m—”

“Why?” he interjected, releasing your jaw and perching his hand on his hip. “Hmm? Why am I your choice? Why do you waste your time with a pirate like me when there are decent men lining up around the planet for your hand? Men that will shower you with gifts and affection? Men that won’t selfishly come and go as they please, like I do?”

“My time with you isn’t wasted, Kix,” you spluttered, eyelids unable to contain the flood of tears blurring your vision, banishing them to the heat of your flushed cheeks. “You don’t listen. I want every minute to be a minute with you. Every hour, every day. Stop running away from what happened to you; stop running from me. We— we can have a real life together.”

The aversion of his gaze to the floor did not stop you. You were too resolute in your convictions; too certain that if he just listened to you, he would finally understand. “I’ll make you caf every morning,” you continued, pulling your hands from the doorframe to hold his. “And… we can shower together every day if we want to. You can make the water as hot as you want, and I won’t complain… I promise. We— we can grow berries in the field out back, on the other side of the tree line. You know, in that clearing where the flowers grow? The spot that gets all the afternoon sun? And… and we can brew our own wine. We—”

“Please stop.”

He was pleading with you in more ways than just the despondent words that left his lips; his dark eyes watching in something near agony as the tears abandoned your cheeks for the draped silk of your robe, but you were deaf to the desperation in his voice and blind to the anguish in his eyes as vivid images of what could-be erupted like a tragic film in your mind.

“We can climb onto the roof and look at the stars on clear nights,” you persisted, releasing his palm and guiding your trembling hands onto the rough and worn plastoid of his shoulder bells. “And when it’s not, we’ll snuggle on the couch and listen to music. We’ll get drunk… and giggle about stupid shit… and make love in every room… an—”

“Please, Mesh’la.” He clamped his eyes closed, cowering beneath your watery gaze and gently tugging your hands from his shoulders, pausing to hold them weakly in his own for a breath before dropping them completely. “You have to sto—”

“No, Kix!” you refused, stomping your cold, bare foot on the floor below you. “You stop! Stop saying you don’t want this life for us, because you do!”

“OF COURSE I DO!”

Your hands flew back to brace yourself in the doorway, shoulders jerking with fright, choked breaths freezing in your lungs. He’d never shouted like that before… and if he had, it certainly hadn’t been in your presence. Never once had you seen his eyes shrink behind lids so narrowed that the even the bridge of his nose scrunched to assist in their efforts. You’d never seen his thick, expressive brows contract so tightly and shoot toward the messy curls of his hairline in such earnest, and you’d never seen a look quite like that in his eyes… the frenzied look of a man desperate to be understood.

“Of— of course I want all of that,” he continued, his tone softening slightly as the ghost of his outburst rang back at him from the quiet corners. “But it’s not that simple. You don’t understand. I want it, Mesh’la, but I shouldn’t have it. I can’t have it. Why… why do I deserve the promise of a quiet life, when they never even had a chance at one? Why should I be the only one gifted with a happy ending, when they were robbed of theirs? If they can’t have it, then I ca—”

His voice cracked… fractured under the duress of the emotion simmering too near the surface, and it echoed more poignantly around the room than the hoarse shout which preceded it. That quiet moment, as you watched his shoulders sag in complete and utter dejection, with his head slowly shaking against a myriad of thoughts that he refused to speak, you would have withstood nearly anything to ensure the music of his voice never cracked like that again. You would have agreed to stand near-naked in the doorway for all eternity, willing to shoulder any amount of shouting, any verbal reprovement… anything if it promised him true peace from the sorrow that robbed him of his voice… of his life.

The threat of a sob forced your face into your clammy palms, pressing the heels of your hands into your eyes until tiny, glimmering phosphenes erupted in your vision. Why couldn’t it all be as beautiful as those silly little dancing lights, brought to life with just a slight pressure from a small hand? Why could people not be free to dance about in darkness, as they are? Why must our darkness diminish our light? Why are those pretty dancing lights, free from the plague of guilt and sorrow, forever permitted to slumber until external pressure brings them to life, an occasion in which they shine so marvelously?

The thunk of his boots and the creak of the floor signaled his slow approach. “I have to go, Cyare,” he mumbled into the space beside your ear, his free hand dusting soft strokes up and down your forearm.

You exposed your tear-streaked face and stared blankly across the room, unwilling to nod and acknowledge the disappointment. So this wasn’t going to be the time that he stayed.

“You know I love you,” he muttered into your hairline before planting a soft kiss on your temple, but the disillusionment had numbed you almost entirely, and you felt nothing of his lips on your skin, nor the brush of his body slipping past you through the door… you heard none of his footsteps fading down the hallway… nothing of the door closing behind him as he disappeared into the diminishing darkness outside… nor did you hear the roar of his speeder engine reverberating around the corners of your secluded paradise, all too eager and willing to rob you of him again.

tags: @anxiouspineapple99 @sinfulsalutations @dystopicjumpsuit @523rdrebel

#starqueenswrittenworks #kix x reader #kix x you #pirate!Kix x reader #Kix fanfic #clone wars fanfiction #clone wars fanfic

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hometoursandotherstuff · 2 years

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This mysterious island outside of Washington, DC was used as a brothel, and it can be yours for $2.1M. Known as Tippity Wichity Island — a 90-minute drive from Washington D.C. — the 5-acre enclave is known for its shady, yet colorful past.

The cottage on the island is surrounded by lush greenery. The current owners, Gail and John Harmon, believe the island served as a brothel after the Civil War and was operated by a soldier named Capt. Henry Howgate.

The living area comes with a wood burning fireplace.

The dining area.

The remodeled kitchen.

One of three bedrooms.

2nd bd.

One of the baths.

A covered gazebo for outdoor dining.

There are walking trails.

You can kayak.

Boat dock.

Plus a pool.

https://nypost.com/2022/11/07/island-used-as-brothel-outside-washington-lists-for-2-1m/

#former brothel island for sale #private island for sale #house tour #home tours #houses #long post

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houseofbrat · 5 months

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The Sun in summer 2022:

The Cambridges' new pad Adelaide Cottage needs no extra taxpayer-funded security or costly refurb. It's understood the family will have no live-in staff, with any aides commuting to Windsor instead. And sources say they dream of a "modest" home with a garden so the children can play outside together. One insider told The Sun: “They were adamant they didn’t want anything too showy or anything that needed renovating or extra security so as not to be a burden on the taxpayer." The property was modernised back in 2015.

The Daily Mail in June 2022:

Prince William and Kate Middleton will move their family into a four-bedroomed home on the Windsor estate this summer. The Duke and Duchess of Cambridge, are reportedly set to uproot their family from Kensington, west London, to Adelaide Cottage in Berkshire in order to be closer to the Queen. Re-erected in 1831, the Cambridge’s new Grade II-listed retreat is just a short walk from St George’s Chapel and Windsor Castle, and sits proudly on the 655-acre royal estate in Berkshire.

Victoria Ward for The Telegraph on 14 August 2022:

But in the coming two or three weeks, the Duke and Duchess of Cambridge will do the opposite, swapping their grand Kensington Palace home for a relatively modest four-bedroomed cottage on the Windsor estate, a move that will see them navigate life without a live-in nanny for their first time in their children’s lives. [...] Although Ms Borrallo will be kept on full time, she will live elsewhere, as will the handful of other support staff that have long “lived-in” with the family at Kensington Palace, thought to include a housekeeper and a chef.

The Sun on 03 September 2022:

“They had to have moved in this weekend, because the children have to start at their new school next week. “The renovation is no-frills, by royal standards — and is certainly in stark contrast to the £2.4million work Harry and Meghan had done on Frogmore Cottage. It will have been a builder’s finish.” Kate and William spent around a year searching for a home in Windsor so the children could go to school together. They settled on Adelaide Cottage, as first revealed by The Sun, because they believed it needed no major renovations. They decided to go with existing furniture and fittings but had a fresh coat of paint to make it feel like home for the children.

LESS THAN TWO YEARS LATER...

The Mirror on 15 April 2024:

Prince William and Kate Middleton are reportedly hatching surprise plans to transform a secret home into something of a sanctuary as part of the Princess's recovery process. The Royal couple is said to be contemplating renovations and extensions to a little-known redbrick annexe adjacent to their Adelaide Cottage residence in Windsor. The family, who relocated to the Berkshire estate towards the end of summer 2022, currently divide their time between the four-bedroom cottage and their cherished Anmer Hall retreat on the Sandringham Estate. While Adelaide Cottage offers an ideal location due to its closeness to Lambrook School where Prince George, Princess Charlotte and Prince Louis attend, insiders suggest the family are considering plans to expand a currently vacant annexe to assist in the princess' recuperation. However, this decision is not without its challenges, as sources indicate that the Prince of Wales is "conscious of public scrutiny" regarding Royal expenditure and is taking a cautious approach to personally funding the costs. "They [William and Kate] absolutely adore Adelaide Cottage, but it just about fits the entire family, whereas Anmer Hall is much larger with extensive grounds," the source revealed to OK!. "Adelaide Cottage is being used as a term time property while the children are at school nearby and Anmer Hall is for long weekends and holidays." Insiders have spilled the beans on plans to revamp a run-down redbrick annexe at Adelaide Cottage, aiming to turn it into a perfect retreat for the Wales family and their aides. While the project is on pause as the Princess of Wales focuses on her recovery, the plans are reportedly simmering away in the background, ready to spring into action when the time is ripe. "Nobody knows that there is quite a spacious red-brick annexe building that's not being used next door to Adelaide Cottage," an insider said. "It's currently inhabitable and needs extensive renovation works if it were to be used. Discussions have been ongoing for a while about using the property as part of the overall cottage grounds, but it's just about finding the right time to kick the project off." The need for space is more than a luxury; sources say it's vital for Kate's path to wellness, providing her with a serene environment to manage her treatment's demands. Anmer Hall is the top pick at the moment, thanks to its generous size and seclusion. Mindful of past backlash over public funding, the Wales clan is considering footing the bill for the Adelaide Cottage annexe's refurbishments themselves. "William is very conscious of the public scrutiny over the Royal Family's spending habits, so he is looking at the best way to cover any renovation costs," a source revealed. "It's a project that's very much been put on the back burner for now due to the family's unfortunate position, but it will be looked at again when the time is right." Adelaide Cottage, tucked away in the Crown Estate's private 655-acre Royal park, was originally constructed in 1831 as a sanctuary for the wife of King William IV, Queen Adelaide. The cottage underwent significant refurbishments in 2015 and boasts some seriously opulent decor. It's said that the master bedroom's ceiling is adorned with gilded dolphins and rope ornamentation, according to various reports.

Well, well, well...

Adelaide Cottage "just about fits the entire family."

"Just about" but not quite, apparently.

Is four bedrooms no longer enough? It was perfectly fine two years ago when they selected it as it "needed no major renovations."

But Kate needs this annex renovation completed for her "path to wellness"? I've never heard of a person undergoing "preventative chemotherapy" needing extensive renovations to their personal real estate to improve their health, particularly when they already have above average living space.

There is a time limit to "preventative chemotherapy." She shouldn't need to be doing "preventative chemotherapy" forever. If she's just doing "preventative chemotherapy," then she should be able to recover within a few weeks after she completes "preventative chemotherapy." (Unless she's really not doing "preventative chemotherapy" to begin with...)

But, hey, if she needs more "space" at home for non-"luxury" reasons, then The Mirror is supporting my previous statement that Kate "is going to be more reclusive for the next year or two."

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writingsbychlo · 2 years

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Hii, here comes the ask for a part 2 to the AMAZING Gwynriel friendship fic🤍 I think Az would go crazy living under the same roof as his mate and best friend😂😂 these two would grew so close really fast and annoy him just for fun (deep down Az would love it!)

here we goooo, I hope you guys love this as much as the other bit, a follow-up to this post

azriel stared up at the ridiculous mating gift from rhysand, unsure whether he wanted to roll his eyes or smile. he settled for both. your hand squeezed tightly around his own, and he squeezed back, the excited chatter between you in his best friend providing a soundtrack to the sight before him. this was his first time, gwyn's too, seeing the house, the large three-story mansion designed to look like a cosy cottage despite its size, and he wanted to scoff at how eccentric his friend had been. not your first time seeing it, though.

almost two years ago, azriel had come home to yet another ambush on you, to find you sitting at the kitchen table, coffee mug clutched between your hands as rhysand sat before you, lounging in the creaky kitchen chairs. your eyes had been wide, breath practically held, and he frowned at the look on your face. you'd known who he was, who his friends were, the same way they'd known of him, but other than cassian, you'd never met them. never mind rhysand, who was looking unnecessarily high lord-like as he sat before you.

whatever you'd been talking about, he hadn't been told, his brother had simply offered his congratulations with a wink, invited you both to a family dinner the following week, and left with a friendly kiss to your cheek and a conspiratorially loud whisper to 'consider his offer' before he'd vanished into darkness and stars.

now, you were standing before him, the offer rhysand had laid out standing tall before him in a composition of pretty old bricks and stones and acres of lush land, and one of his brows rose. you'd told him, less than a week ago, curled up against his chest and panting in the afterglow, kissing along his tattoos in ways that made his head spin. his hands had been slipping down your body, cupping your ass and pulling you over him to start again when you giggled. 'we don't have time, gwyn will be home soon.'

he hated it, and he hated that he hated it. a wave of guilt rippled down the bond. he knew what his best friend had been through, and that the moment he asked, she'd have left the two of you alone, found her own place. in fact, she had offered, and you'd shut her down the second she'd brought it up awkwardly over breakfast, insisting that she stay with the two of you in the now rather cramped apartment. it had made him feel like his whole chest was clenching in as he watched you take his best friend's hands, and promise she always had a place with you both.

but now, he was spending so much time sneaking around, grabbing any little bit of intimate time with you he could, but you were now mated, mating ceremony passe,d his wrong sitting on your finger and a tattoo bound around both of your wrists, never to disappear, promises made to one another. but, the apartment was already too small, and he felt nothing but guilt as he thought about a future somewhere else with you, rooms for your own children, enough space for their childhood and their memories, not the attic full of boxes they had now, overflow things that had to be put away instead of appreciated and seen.

'we need a new place.' he eventually spoke the words, feeling even worse for saying them out loud, and you only raised your head, kissing under his jaw until he smiled.

'what if we already have one?' you didn't give him a chance to ask, rolling away and taking the sheet with you, wrapping yourself in it and leaving him bare as you padded away to the bathroom. 'just give me a few more weeks, and I'll tell you it all'. he trusted you, so he let himself forget about it, until now.

"this is insane!" gwyn muttered, waving her hands enthusiastically at the house before your small group. "rhysand built this for you?"

"well, not with his own hands, but we had some ideas, we got some help, and this was the result." you shrugged, and azriel looked down at you, shooting a shock down the bond at your coy deception, but you only grinned at the feeling. rhysand had offered him much to celebrate his mating bond, and azriel had shut it all down. he didn't want anything more, at the time, he hadn't needed anything more, and somehow, just like always, you'd known what he needed long before he did. you and gwyn were far too similar that way. "so, do you guys want the tour, or shall we stand out here all day? I mean, it's getting kind of cold.."

despite knowing you were being sarcastic, the instinctive urge to protect you flared up, and azriel slipped his wing around you, tugging you closer to his side. you only grinned, tipping your head away with a laugh when he dipped down to bite at the shell of your ear playfully. he followed you as you guided them up the pathway, a large and heavy oak double door, wide enough for him to pass through without ducking or tucking his wings in, and the first jolt of warmth at your consideration of him ran through his veins.

open-plan, arched doorways, empty and ready to be decorated but utterly beautiful. he could feel traces of you in every room, from the carvings on the porch posts to the bay window seats for reading, and a dining room big enough to fit his whole family comfortably, or host the bookclubs you and gwyn had taken to hosting every week.

there was your room, large, space for a bed so big his wings wouldn't touch the edges even fully extended, so much storage he could display every trinket and memory he'd ever collected that were currently boxed up, a guest room, and another. cassian would doubtless claim one to be dedicated to himself in no time.

there were rooms for future children, an office for him to work from without his papers spreading all over the kitchen table, and a bathtub big enough for you both. a living room with a large fireplace hidden from sight, enough to carry heat throughout the whole house without him ever having to see the flames, and he'd excused himself to inspect the glass-walled conservatory to hide the choked-up tears.

he'd left you and gwyn in the living room, talking about a bookcase dedicated to the smutty bookclub you banned him from attending, knowing now he could simply retreat to your bedroom to give you privacy, more than two floors between you all now. he could picture a coffee table, one he would build himself, and two large armchairs, a space to sit and drink your coffee together every morning, staring out at the large garden that was sprawling behind it.

pretty structures sat even out there. a pergola sat on a stone patio, surrounded by flowers, a firepit sat in the middle for cold nights. a shed, a flower garden, benches along the bushes and under the trees, and finally, tucked away into the back, a small build. bigger than a shed, built with its own bricks and stones, a small covered porch out the front of it, a pathway leading all the way to it, lit with small glowing faelights that would come alive in the dark.

warm arms wrapped around his waist, like he'd drawn you to him with his curiosity, and his wings flared slightly to make space for you as you pressed a kiss to the clothed spot between them.

"what's that?"

he pointed out, gwyn following his gaze, and the feeling of your excitement washed over him in waves, radiating in his chest. "that's one of the best parts. do you want to see it?"

you didn't wait for an answer, unwrapping yourself from him and unlocking the wide doors of the conservatory, sliding them aside and stepping out onto the path. gravel crunched underneath your feet, his own and gwyn's too as they followed you, until you were standing under the porch. unlocking a matching door to the front, but a single, smaller, he had to duck a little to step inside, light glowing softly as it sensed your presence. almost the whole of the small bungalow was open plan, kitchen melting into a large room, a fireplace on one wall, an arched doorway leading to another empty room, a bedroom, a door sealed against the wall. presumably a bathroom.

"a.. guest house?"

"no." you took azriel's hand, watching gwyn step forward to explore, running her fingers over the crafted wood of the mantle. you leaned in, cheek pressed against his bicep as you held them both hanging in anticipation, absorbing the beautiful but empty interior. "you like it, gwyn?"

"I love it, it's beautiful. what's it for?"

"you." she paused, twisting to face you, and azriel stiffened a little at your words, shock taking him over.

"me?"

"well, of course. you didn't think I was going to build a house with no place for you, did you?" her eyes watered, rippling like the oceans they resembled so ethereally. she took a few steps forward, back towards you, reaching out to clasp your hands in her own. azriel felt like he couldn't breathe, like he didn't know exactly how he'd been so lucky, to land a mate who understood and accepted every part of him this way.

"you want me to stay with you?"

"only if you want to." he knew you knew, azriel had come home to find you crying in the bathtub over a year ago, and when he'd asked what was wrong, you'd wept for gwyn, who'd finally told you the whole truth of why she lived with azriel, that he'd made her feel safe, and she was still so filled with doubt about going back into the world that last tie she'd tried, a panic attack had brought her right back. "if you don't, I'm sure cassian will call dibs before I even finish tell him about it."

"well, sucks to be cassian, because this is mine." she sniffled a little, looking around the space in awe, wiping not so discreetly at her tears when he back was to you both. azriel twisted, lifting a wing to shield you both from sight as he cupped your face with both hands.

"you made a space for gwyn."

"of course, I did." he swiped a thumb over your cheekbone, other hand slipping down to pinch your chin between his thumb and forefinger. "you think we're leaving her behind? she belongs with us."

he shook his head, swallowing down thickly on the lump of emotion wedged there. "kiss me, right now."

"well, if you insist, shadowsinger." you grinned, arms wrapping around his neck, tugging yourself up to his level until you were pressing your lips to his. he let himself sink into his, holding you close to him, drowning in the way it felt to have a mate, someone so perfectly matched to him, someone who he never had to hide from. it surprised him every time, this feeling shocked him to his core, made him feel electrified every time he thought about it too much. you were his, all of this was his, he wasn't sure he'd ever done anything to deserve it but he would fight 'til his last breath to keep it.

"nope! none of that in my new place." pulling away with a groan, azriel lowered his wing, peeking over the top to see his best friend grinning at him cheekily, hands on her hips as he tutted. you sank down, face pressing into his chest to hide your laughter, moment shattered.

"you're such a cockblock, gwyn."

"hey, you have your own place now, go back to it. I don't want my new place to reek of your arousal within five minutes of me getting it." she shooed the pair of you away, as though she'd owned it forever, and you reached into your pocket, handing over the key to her before he was being pushed out onto the porch with you in his arms. "I have paint colours to plan."

"oh, mother help us, this room is going. to look like a rainbow threw up in it." azriel felt his face scrunch up, and gwyn offered a crude gesture to him, before slamming the door in his face. your presence was all that grounded him, ready to start a bickering match with her, but you were pulling him back up the path to your own house.

"I think, we should go bed shopping. we have space for a much bigger bed now," he smirked at you, following your lead toward the garden gate.

"I like the way you think, my love."

#azriel x reader

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bullet-prooflove · 1 month

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4500 Follower Celebration Bingo Card Complete!

All bingo fics have now been completed with the exception of Will Trent. Some have already been published and the rest are booked in to go out this week.

Booked in for this week we have:

19th: Adrenaline - Ryan Yellowstone - You run into a man you arrested during date night.

20th - Left Behind - Alden Parker - You're left behind to pick up the pieces when Alden goes on the run with Viv.

21st: Three Minutes - Sean Archer - Sean realises you might be pregnant after you experiance some sickness.

23rd - The Vet - Rip Wheeler - The Beck brothers get more than they bargained for when they attack Gina's cottage.

24th: Key To Her Heart - JD Dempsey - You and JD fall into old patterns after a UC op.

25th: Exposure - Brendon Acres - Your relationship comes to light after your papped during a proposal.

#ryan yellowstone #alden parker #sean archer #rip wheeler #jd dempsey #brendon acres

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utterlyinevitable · 1 month

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↪ series masterlist

29. Birthday Babes

Pairing: Colin Bridgerton x Penelope Featherington Format: textfic Chapter Rating: T+

Summary: Colin's been weird since V-Day, but then he takes Pen to a romantic cabin for her birthday

Penelope: Happy birthday, superstar 🌟♥️ any big plans?

Hungry One🦛: Thanks, P. Nothing too exciting. Having dinner with a few travelers I met up with

Penelope: What's on the menu?

Hungry One🦛: Cajun I think

Penelope: Hey, you ok?

Hungry One🦛: Yea

Penelope: You can talk to me you know. You've been weird since you left.

Birthday blues?

Hungry One🦛: Just unplugging for a bit. Don't worry. I'll see you 3rd April, yeah?

Penelope: Yeah if that works for you. Don't go rearranging on my account.

Hungry One🦛: My tour will be done by then. There won't be a sleeper train in the US I haven't tried when I'm through

Penelope: Can’t wait to read your review. I'll see you then.

Promise me one thing?

Hungry One🦛: I WILL be taking you for a birthday meal. Allow a man his small pleasures.

Penelope: No not that but thank you.

Be kind to yourself. Whatever this is that's got you in a funk will sort itself out. You're very funny and wonderful and charming and so bloody brilliant it's unreal. No matter what grief they give you, your family loves you dearly and just want to help.

You're also much too good looking to be sad 😉

Hungry One🦛: Thanks pen

Penelope: I hope you know you're my best friend. I care about you so so much, Colin.

Hungry One🦛: You're my best friend too <3

Penelope: If you're taking me out for my birthday, let me take you out for yours. Lets have a big bash (theoretically speaking, i'm poor yk)

Hungry One🦛: Deal

She’s mucked things up.

Penelope doesn’t know how but she knows something has undoubtedly changed between them. They've barely talked since he left whilst she was still asleep some three-odd weeks ago.

It can’t be the fact she’s sharing her place with him when he needs -- he's stayed around hers a countless amount of times these last two years and there has never ever been weirdness.

And it’s not that they share a bed -- they’ve never not shared a bed since they reconnected. She has some of her best sleep with him wrapped around her, legs intertwined and his heartbeat her lullaby.

Maybe it’s…

She does the quick math: they haven’t fucked in months. Since she moved in and christened nearly every room of her flat to be exact.

That can’t be it, could it?

Colin could just as well initiate; he’s certainly woken up with enough hard ons to get her hot and bothered. God, are they too comfortable with each other? Has the spark dimmed on their sex friendship? Are they well and truly only flatmates at this point? Or worse…

Has he met someone else?

Colin wouldn’t be cagey for no reason. He’s been backpacking across North America and bound to make a connection with some beautiful worldly woman with long legs and blemish-free tanned skin. A model, probably. Penelope always figured he'd fall in love with a model. One that will always feature perfectly in his posts; a muse for his media. Is Colin worried about pieing her off? Is that why he's been so odd?

It doesn’t matter. None of this matters. All that matters is that they stay friends.

Nearly a decade later and Penelope Featherington is still content savoring whatever scraps Colin Bridgerton deems to give her.

***

Colin: Pack a bag.

Pen: Why

Colin: Birthday surprise!

Pen: Colin...

Colin: And maybe an assignment I need to do in Wales and could not rearrange for next week....

Pen: How long we staying?

Colin: 2 nights.

Pack for hiking and swimming! 😊

They’re in for a ride. A 3-hour drive over to a private nature reserve in Wales known for beautiful scenery and six luxury cottages scattered across a few hundred acres of woodland. It's just an ordinary early-spring day - there is a chill in the air but the sun is still shining in strong warm hues.

One hour in and the conversation has lulled comfortably. The Birmingham cityscape has turned to rolling hills along the motorway as they looped on Radio 4. Colin's lost a bet - or so he laments. Makes a grumble and a show of Pen changing the playlist he had programmed in when he picked up the rental car.

Not even two seconds into her choice of tunes and Colin’s groaning. His distaste (more so at losing than the songs playing) reverberates the same second Pen’s mouth drops open to sing along. Her fingers turning the volume dial up and rolling down the window to scream-sing even louder.

He watches her out the corner of his eye; one trained on the empty road ahead, the other gazing at Penelope. Her face fresh and glowing from a goodnights sleep, cheeks rosy with daylight highlighting her freckles since she foregone makeup (come to think of it she hasn't worn a full face around him in ages...? not that Colin is complaining. he prefers her natural beauty, much like he still prefers her with unruly red hair). Her fingers tapping on the windowsill. Happiness radiates from her half as intense as the waning sun over the horizon.

Colin silently wishes he could watch her for hours, just existing in this space together like two normal people.

Another hour or two or twenty minutes ticks down and then…

Colin’s eyes light up with the first chord. He hasn't heard this song since they were rowdy teenagers causing havoc all those summers at Aubrey Hall. God he's thrown back in time.

Pen feels it too; all the flashes and memories taking up space in the small sedan.

She doesn’t dare break the moment. Her gaze trained on the outside world passing by. Her fingers tap along as she mouths her favorite lines.

He breaks the silence just after the second verse, voice low and reverent; "I haven't heard this in ages."

"Me either."

"Do you remember when...?"

"Yeah," she sighs fondly. "Yeah, I do."

Both Colin and Penelope relish the companionable silence surrounding them as the song plays through and into a '00s pop piece neither pay much attention to.

“We made it,” she breathes as she fiddles to find the right key to the cabin that's been left in the lockbox for them. Colin holding his denim jack over the two of them as huddle under the awning in the freak hailstorm.

He grumbles an agreement, still angered that the weather app could not predict this turn of events - so much for modern technology. It's Wales; he should be used to the unpredictable UK weather by now but the shift from a cloudless spring day to this and a drastic drop in temperature was so not on his bingo card today. Guess the hike's out of the question...

They enter the dark cabin, testing the switches, the lamps and even the fridge light as one last hopeful saving grace. Nothing’s working. With twin groans from opposite sides of the one bedroom cabin, they realize there’s no electricity. Stuck in the middle of some foresty hill estate in a storm with no electricity and no neighbors for miles, fucking perfect.

Colin paces around the living room as he calls his useless contact, then the inept property manager. He uses an authoritative voice that rivals Anthony's to borderline berate the person on the other end into fixing this nightmare of a compt'd stay before he has no choice but to publicise the poor facilities. Penelope hears his exasperation, his agitation radiating off the wooden pillars as she stokes the fire to life. Busies herself through the awkwardness by moving about grabbing blankets and pillows from various closets on fuzzy sock-clad tiptoes as he continues his bellows.

So many minutes pass for Colin in frustration. Enough that once he's hung up the phone after the fourth call out, he flops on the couch, hunched with his head in his hands. He barely hears when Penelope returns from the kitchen but he feels the old paisley-patterned couch dip as she curls up beside him.

“The earliest they will send someone is 5AM," he groans through gritted teeth. "And the imbecile couldn’t even tell me where the breakers are. So much for a relaxing weekend.”

“Glass half full,” she says as she offers him a mug.

“What’s this?” He takes the ceramic in one large hand, pads of his fingers tingling with heat.

“We have warm water, that’s something.”

He grumbles once more.

“It’s enough,” she justifies.

Penelope looks at her watch. Then to where the couch is positioned too many feet from the fireplace. She unzips her bulky winter coat, discarding it on the armchair before effortlessly turning her attention to her pile of mismatched bedding. With a delighted sense of determination she wraps two thick throws around herself, cuddling all bundled up on the floor in front of the fireplace.

Colin watches her every graceful movement shadowed in an amber glow. Intrigue setting in and eclipsing the distain souring their sacred time together, quickly morphing into admiration for the little pile of green and red tartan before him.

In no time he’s grabbing his own blanket and settles next to her - around her. Penelope’s back leaning against his warm chest, Colin’s hands cradling her blue-tinted fingertips. His palms curling around her cold acrylic nails positioned in her lap.

“You’re freezing. Let’s go to a hotel.”

“I’ll be fine,” she assures him, relishing in his embrace as she snuggles in closer. “I’ve got snacks, the fire and you.”

He doesn’t need to see her face to know she’s donning a small simper. The way her head nuzzles against him and her hands tugging him tighter around her tells him all he needs to know.

Minutes upon minutes pass with them staring into the flames and Colin's hands mindfully mapping the edges of her body (and if he leans in and buries his nose in her hair, taking in the comforting scent, so be it).

An idea pops into his head - a silly little idea that makes him feel childish.

Colin extracts himself, much to Penelope's displeasure. He wanders in the ever-darkening space of the cabin to the sole bedroom. He finds the bed stripped of the duvet and pillows from Pen's nesting and grabs the rest of all he can find - pillows and throw pillows and a spare set of thermal sheets.

Penelope watches him keenly when he returns, a raised brow as he chucks the couch cushions onto the floor. Stares intently as he pushes the coffee table far from the sitting area leaving a space for his grand plan - a plan that gets better the moment Pen rises and surmises -

“The mattress would fit.”

Colin's grin could light up the whole cabin.

Penelope helps him move the furniture and carry the double mattress in. They strip off the rest of their day-soaked clothes leaving them in their underwear and cuddle in the bed they make, talking and enjoying one another’s company like planned.

"So.." she begins "What's on the plan for the rest of the day?"

"We were supposed to go on a hike and have dinner at the pub in the woods."

"Is that the only way to get there?"

"There should be ATV's for us to use in the shed."

She looks at him incredulously.

"Or not," he chuckles. He can't blame her for not wanting to go out in this weather.

"Think they deliver?"

"Doubt it."

She hmph's. And a beat later asks the most important question:

"Can you survive on our rations or will you waste away?"

"I'll be fine for one night," he gallantly, confidently reassures. Colin isn't so melodramatic that the mere idea of skipping a meal or two would throw him and his endless stomach into a fit of despair. However... "What did we pack again?"

"Crisps, biscuits, sweets and cheese. A balanced diet if ever there was one."

"What kind of biscuits?"

"Does it really matter? You'll eat them regardless."

He makes a little noise somewhere between a huff and an agreement. His mind wandering to the food in their possession, how much there is and if it will be able to sustain them until morning when they can wander back to the welcome centre.

"Stop thinking about food."

"You put it in my head!"

"I can show you where to put your head."

He blanches. He didn't - This isn't what - my god woman. Pen is on her knees facing him, he feels hot and undressed by her heady gaze. She licks her bottom lip, fingers coyly tracing patterns across her bare stomach.

Colin's mouth is on hers before she can even implore further methods of seduction.

#am i doing another heat issue plotline two chapters in a row? yes. so sue me #there would be smut at the end of this chapter IF i knew how to write it effectively.....#polin #bridgerton #bridgerton textfic #bridgerton fanfiction

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charlotte-of-wales · 1 year

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Happy 10th birthday to Prince George of Wales!

Born on 22 July 2013, George Alexander Louis is the eldest child of William, Prince of Wales and Catherine, Princess of Wales, the eldest grandchild of King Charles III and second in the line of succession to the British throne behind his father.

George was christened on 23 October by Justin Welby, Archbishop of Canterbury, in the Chapel Royal at St James's Palace. Prince George spent his first months at his parents' cottage on the grounds of Bodorgan Hall in Anglesey, Wales, before his family relocated to Kensington Palace in 2014.

He embarked on his first royal tour with his parents in April 2014, during which the Cambridges spent three weeks in New Zealand and Australia. In June 2015, George made his first public appearance on the balcony of Buckingham Palace following the Trooping the Colour parade. From 2015 to 2017, the family lived at Anmer Hall in Norfolk, where George started his education at the West Acre Montessori School Nursery in January 2016.

George started primary school under the name George Cambridge in September 2017 at the Thomas's School in Battersea. In 2022, the family moved to Adelaide Cottage in Windsor Home Park. Since September 2022, George and his siblings, Charlotte and Louis, have attended Lambrook, in Berkshire.

#royal birthdays #prince george

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lboogie1906 · 7 months

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Sarah Rector, known as Sarah Rector Campbell and Sarah Campbell Crawford, (March 3, 1902 – July 22, 1967) received international attention at the age of eleven when The Kansas City Star in 1913 publicized the headline, “Millions to a Negro Girl.” From that moment her life became a cauldron of misinformation, legal and financial maneuvering, and public speculation.

She was born to Joseph and Rose Rector in Twine, Oklahoma on Muscogee Creek Indian allotment land. Both Joseph and Rose had enslaved Creek ancestry, and both of their fathers fought with the Union Army during the Civil War. Her parents, her, and her siblings all received land. Her allotment of 160 acres was valued at $556.50.

Her father leased her allotment to the Devonian Oil Company of Pittsburgh. Her fortunes changed when a wildcat oil driller produced a “gusher” that brought in 2500 barrels a day. She received an income of $300.00 per day. Once this wealth was made known, her guardianship was switched from her parents to a white man, an individual known to the Rectors. Multiple new wells were productive, and her allotment became part of the famed Cushing-Drumright Field in Oklahoma. In October 1913, she received $11,567.

She received numerous requests for loans, money gifts, and even marriage proposals from four Germans even though she was 12. She and her siblings went to school in Taft, an all-Black town closer than Twine, they lived in a modern five-room cottage, and they owned an automobile. She enrolled in the Children’s House, a boarding school for teenagers at Tuskegee Institute.

She left Tuskegee and her entire family moved with her to Kansas City, Missouri. She now stocks and bonds, a boarding house and bakery, and the Busy Bee Café in Muskogee, as well as 2,000 acres of prime river bottomland, and was a millionaire.

She married Kenneth Campbell (1920-1930) and the couple had three sons. She married William Crawford (1934-1967). #africanhistory365 #africanexcellence #womenshistorymonth

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ask-healthy-light · 1 year

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After a moment of silence between the trio, Rarity called out to them again, whereafter both Pinkie and Spike flew out after them, while Light, being especially careful to avoid damaging their brand-new outfit, slowly trotted after them; to their relief, as they started to quicken their pace, they realised their outfit would not encumber them, as they caught up with the three mere moments later.

The White Unicorn trotting at the head of the group glanced back for am oment to see a bright smile growing upon Light's face, which made her even more proud of her successful creation, for which she audibly cheered, to the lighthearted amusement of the others behind her; they smiled to Rarity, who started to blush brightly in embarrassment, until Sweet Apple Acres came into view in the distance.

Even from so great a distance, the group could hear the echoing sounds of heavy impacts on the many trees lining the fields, and their eyes darted back and forth looking for the Apple family, working tirelessly in the fields to gather the apples; Spike flew up high and Pinkie quickly combed through every field, while Rarity and Light, by the former's insistence, quickly headed towards their home.

No sooner had they reached the porch of the Apple family's home when they heard a loud whistle from the fields and a faint, shouting voice echoing down from above, telling the two to stay there while they headed there with the Apples; the two sighed and sat down to wait, when Light turned to Rarity to thank her once again for their outfit, promising her they would repay her when she shushed them.

Even though Light wanted to speak and to thank Rarity again, she said that although she appreciated their gratefulness, she promised Light that they had no obligation to pay her back her in whichever way they deemed most fit, and politely asked them with a smile on her face to consider their outfit a gift, about which she did not want to hear any other words apart from more of what they had said.

Understanding and accepting the polite request she asked of them, Light smiled and nodded to Rarity as they deeply embraced themselves, nigh indescribably happy with how soft it felt, which only made the White Unicorn sitting to their side blush even more brightly; a few moments later, all carrying baskets filled to the brim with apples, Pinkie and Spike and the Apple siblings wandered into view.

Politely greeting the two sitting on the porch to their home with a countryism which neither Rarity nor Light understood, Applejack happily trotted over to them after she placed her apple basket down on the ground, and asking them to what they owed the pleasure; but Light asked her if either Pinkie or Spike had told her, to which she only smiled and gestured towards the Pink Mare chattering away.

With a lighthearted chuckle and an understanding nod, they smiled and briefly explained they needed her help at the Palace, where all the Royals and Pillars were already; but before they had finished their sentence, AJ leapt up and said she would be there for them, though before she could race off, Light asked her to wait, and to join them to the homes of their friends whose help they needed too.

As she readjusted her hat, and firmly nodded to the well-dressed Kirin, AJ told Apple Bloom and Big Mac to hold the fort, and that she'd be back later as their friends needed help, which was met with cheers from her little sister and a gentle nod from Mac; Pinkie was still chattering away when both AJ and Rarity asked her to take a breath and to listen, before they told her they were heading out.

Enthusiastically waving to the Apple siblings, Pinkie loudly shouted goodbye as the group left, and she started to bounce along with them energetically to Fluttershy's cottage, which was close to the edge of the Everfree Forest; luckily, the weather was calm, even above the Forest, and they reached her home swiftly thereafter, but they asked Light to wait a moment before they knocked on the door.

When Light asked wherefore, AJ told them:

"Her friend is not a fan of strangers…"

(Thanks for reading! And if you enjoyed, please reblog! Thanks in advance!)

Send an ask or request! | Start at the beginning! | Next part!

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elleenvs3000f23 · 1 year

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Week 3: Lets Talk Privilege, Empathy and Access

Google defines privilege as “a special right, advantage, or immunity granted or available only to a particular person or group”. I tend to think of privilege as everything I have never thought to ask or work for but non-the-less benefited from.

Privilege also creates blind-spots in our empathy. Things we don't consider to be obstacles or concerns can cause us to make our interpretive work isolating or inaccessible to others. For example, I speak French and English and speak both very quickly. When I used to coach skating, it took reminders from my supervisor or very confused looks from my student (a newly immigrated canadian excited to play hockey) for me to realize I wasn't accounting for our language barrier at all; I also never considered how my verbal instructions might be frustrating for him to understand or make him feel unwelcome on the ice. Heck, this middle school kid had the guts and confidence to join a learn-to-skate program where he knew most of the skaters would be at least half his age. I should have been doing everything in my power to make that confidence worthwhile. I have been on the other side of this as well. In one of my first jobs in the environmental science world I was part of a team of three men and two women (myself included). Unfortunately, our office only had two sets of waders below a men's size 9 despite having multiple female biologists, and on day two of work, one of the small waders sprung a leak. No one had considered that we might need different equipment because they had never struggled to find what they needed to do their job before. These examples are both small, easily fixed problems that maybe ruined a day at most, but if incidents like these pile up or happen regularly when an individual tries to access interpretive services (or provide them), they create a sense of unwelcome and unwantedness that will prevent excellent interpreters and guests from wanting to participate.

Another important relationship between interpretation and privilege is access. It is largely due to privilege that I became interested in environmental science and interpretive work in the first place. I grew up in a house with a large back yard, I have family with a cottage, and my best friend had many acres of private forest we could explore. I lived within a kilometer of bike and walking trails that were safe enough for me to explore alone as a young woman and if I ever felt unsafe I had my large dog Rudy to take with me. We think of nature as free space that everyone should have access to but it costs money to live close to nature or find transportation to these areas. If my family had never moved from Detroit where I was born my relationship with nature and my career would look a lot different. Because I had access to natural spaces I am now a young interpreter; if most interpreters are from similar backgrounds as me (white and middle class), none of us will notice when we are excluding others because of the earlier mentioned empathy gap.

I am still learning about my privilege and how it affects my work and will be doing so for the rest of my career so I look forward to hearing your thoughts and discussing further!

Until next time,

Elle

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mariacallous · 1 year

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When smoke from eastern Canadian wildfires smothered much of Canada and the American East Coast this summer, it resurfaced a distant memory for Gus Sentementes. The last time smoke descended on his home in Baltimore, Maryland, was in 2002, when fires in Quebec spread smoke more than 700 miles southward.

But this summer was different. The smoke lingered longer and spread farther. It also created quite a stir in areas that aren’t used to being that close to the effects of a cataclysmic wildfire. The world is warming, extreme heat is spawning hellish blazes, and even those not in the immediate vicinity are feeling their effects far downwind. Sentementes felt like this wasn’t just a fluke—something that affected his life every 20 years or so. This felt like something that would likely happen again, and soon.

Like anyone who breathes (i.e., everybody), air quality always felt somewhat important to Sentementes. He has three kids, one of whom has asthma. Sentementes himself uses a sleep apnea machine at night. When the sky turned orange and taking a breath felt like sucking in a campfire, Sentementes decided it was time to learn more about how his air quality was changing. He bought a PurpleAir sensor that lets him monitor the air quality outside his house in real time and share the data on the internet, where it gets pooled with other sensor readings from down the street, across town, and around the world.

“It’s been an eye-opening experience, the last several months, just coming to understand the basic, most fundamental importance of clean air,” Sentementes says. "We just really don’t appreciate it until you’re forced to breathe in a lot of terrible air.”

Wildfire smoke has long been a staple of the summer months along the West Coast of the US. Earlier this summer, when the wildfires in eastern Canada burned thousands of acres and covered the east coast in clouds of acrid haze, people who had never known life in wildfire country found themselves choking on wildfire smoke. As wildfires worsen and spread, people in communities that aren’t historically thought of as wildfire prone are starting to track the smoke in their air.

“With all that's going on with climate change and all the extremes that everybody's experiencing, sadly, I think this is going to become the new normal,” says James Knox, who lives near Ottawa, Ontario, Canada. “We're going to have to start living with this.”

Knox recently bought two PurpleAir sensors after this summer's wildfires. He placed one in his yard at his home and the other at a family cottage a few miles away. Knox has consulted for public health agencies about Covid-19 and other infectious diseases. Being forced indoors due to the Canadian wildfires evoked the lockdown days of the Covid pandemic, albeit with its own twists. Back then, the guidance for social distancing allowed for outdoor excursions, like going for a walk. For someone like Knox, it was a way to stave off cabin fever and get some fresh air. But when the smoke came, he felt pinned inside without respite.

“We've been kind of conditioned to going out in fresh air, but that's dangerous now,” Knox says. "It’s a weird feeling.”

It’s relatively easy to check your community’s air quality. At least, if you live in the US, and also in an urban area that’s mandated to report such data to the Environmental Protection Agency. The Air Quality Index, or AQI, is the measure of potentially harmful particulate matter in the air around us. That includes everything from floating particles smaller than 10 micrometers (PM10) like dust and wildfire smoke to particles 2.5 micrometers (PM2.5) or smaller, like gas fumes. Official sources like the World Health Organization and the US-focused AirNow track air quality, usually more rigorously in populated areas, and rank the ratings on a scale from Good to Hazardous.

AQI readings have traditionally been taken by big, pricey measuring instruments owned and operated by state or local governments. But over roughly the past half decade, small, low-cost devices have democratized air quality monitoring. Companies like Purple Air and IQ Air have built up reliable air quality tracking networks made up by citizen-owned monitors; PurpleAir says it has more than 25,000 units in its network worldwide. These monitors are cheap devices that hook up to your Wi-Fi network and are easy to install. The sensors take regular air quality readings and then upload the data to the broader networks, offering a crowdsourced snapshot of air quality information that spans the globe. The devices aren’t perfect—there’s a greater chance of human error when the monitors aren’t placed by someone who’s trained to collect air quality readings—but the sheer scale of the network means inaccurate outliers have a higher chance of being drowned out by the sea of other nearby devices.

A platform like PurpleAir also makes the data immediately accessible by visualizing the air quality readings on a map, using a color-coded scale from blue and green (OK) to red and purple (very bad). Even if you don’t fully grasp particulate matter ratings, seeing a big red blob on a map over your house is a pretty quick way to tell something is off.

“It’s a form of engaged learning,” says William Mills, an exposure assessment researcher at Northern Illinois University. “You can touch it, you can feel it, you can see it. It’s community sharing that’s just easy for people to opt in to. You can gain as much or as little information as you want. Can we use that to look at other forms of environmental quality? Can we use it to help change behaviors?”

Making the data more accessible can make people more interested in paying attention to it, especially when disaster strikes. Elizabeth Spike is an alternative school teacher and the education program manager at Clean Air Partners, an advocacy group for air quality awareness based in Washington, DC.

“Between the wildfires and Covid, I think more and more people want to know what they are breathing,” Spike says. “It's terrible that it takes these tragedies, these crises to make us realize we've been sleeping at the wheel. We have no choice but to breathe, and yet we really haven't made a big deal about what we are breathing.”

Ammar Rai is a software engineer in Maryland. He’s had asthma since childhood, which was only exacerbated by a bout of Covid two years ago. When the wildfire smoke descended this summer, he wore a painters mask with built-in ventilators when going outside. Rai says he often feels like people with conditions like his are treated as a burden, until something like the summer’s wildfires brings widespread attention to air quality.

“People like me are like the canaries in the coal mines,” Rai says. “The stuff that we’re oftentimes reacting to is bad for you anyways. Somebody who may be perfectly fine and not show any apparent symptoms, they're getting exposed to this stuff too. Then many years down the line, you find out they’re impacted by it, or it's in their bloodstream, or they have some kind of lung disease.”

Indoors, his home is a veritable air quality fortress. He has four air purifiers in the house. He has phones mounted to a wall in each room of his house that let him see air conditions at a glance. They’re always on, and their interfaces evoke the multicolored blinking lights of the inside of a Star Wars spaceship.

He’s made his software dashboard for mobile devices available on Github, along with self-made data visualizers others can use to make sense of their Purple Air readings. Rai has a PurpleAir monitor of his own that he says nearly 500 people on the platform have favored as a resource in the area.

“It feels good to be able to provide this data to the community in some way and raise awareness,” Rai says. “My standards are probably different than other people's, but if it helps someone have a good day outside, hey, that's great. Wonderful.”

James Knox, in Canada, also hopes sharing his data will help researchers and forecasters looking to predict unhealthy air events in the future.

“I feel fortunate I'm in a position to be able to do this,” Knox says. “I can provide that information, and people can make use of it to inform their lives. It gives them better situational awareness. People are nervous. People are worried. This helps.”

Gus Sentementes says there’s a sort of camaraderie to it too. It's a spirit, he says, that feels like it has been squeezed out of much of the wider internet by a handful of big social media companies intent on monetizing their platforms at all costs and erecting walled gardens around their services.

“One of the gee-whiz wonders of the internet of the early days was this feeling of being connected to other people,” Sentementes says. “It’s community driven, community sourcing. There’s this sense of a collective project you want to contribute to. You’re not just taking from it, you’re giving something back.”

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