#box trailer material

[mariotrailers]

Factors to Consider When Selecting a Box Trailer Unlock the secrets to choosing the right box trailer! Discover essential factors for a perfect pick and hassle-free hauling. Your guide awaits

[rileyclaw]

turn on the lights, this cannot last forever

watching and dreaming promo

[yanderenightmare]

TW: nsfw, anal, suggestiveness & pressuring

fem reader

Thinking about really boyfriendly boyfriends – simpy and helpful and sweet – boyfriend material perfectly cut as if custom-ordered – boxed and shipped and sent express mail from the boyfriend factory with love.

He’s interested in your hobbies and studies and is equally passionate about sharing his interests with you. He’s comfortable and playful with your family and makes a true effort to befriend your friends. He’s even outgoing at parties where he doesn’t know anyone but you instead of sulking and asking you to leave like so many past boyfriends have.

He likes sharing food, sings loudly in the car, texts you throughout the day, and calls you when he’s at the store before coming over, asking if you need or want anything. He’s open and honest and geeks over new releases – that movie trailer, that game, those sneakers, that album, that car, and all that other boy stuff – and yet never fails to tell you how beautiful you are every time he sees you.

And he likes taking you on dates – cinema, arcade, roller rink, amusement park, road trips, picnics, beach days – or simply hanging out at his or your place – making food, binging a series in bed, kissing and dry-humping…

He’s just, all in all, everything you could’ve ever wished for. Perfect in every way.

Only… there hasn’t been a single time he’s had you in bed where he hasn’t all but begged to fuck your ass…

He’s literally crying for it while moaning, “Please~ lemme put it in~ just wanna try it once, please, baby~” with his hands squeezing your butt over your shorts and his head under your shirt, kissing and sucking your tits with the prayers on his lips as he humps his tented crotch against your clothed cunt – making your panties hot and damp. 

You squeeze your eyes shut with a suppressed whine.

He keeps pleading, “I’ll be gentle~ just the tip~ I’ll go so slow~”

His fingers dig into the crevice of your cheeks, wedging your shorts and undies through your slit. Everything clenches from the friction.

Your face is heated, biting your lip with cinched brows. You knew he’d ask for it again today – he never doesn’t. Even though he’ll get pussy-drunk and pound your poor womb in a tight mating press the second he’s made you cum on his fingers. 

He slurps your nipple, still begging, “Please, baby, please~ it’ll feel so good~ so-so-so good~”

You’d been deliberating giving in to his incessant proposals for a little while. He’d been so unrelenting you were starting to feel bad denying him for so long.

Not like past boyfriends hadn’t been equally relentless in the ask.

But this one was different… unlike the others… you really like him. 

You think you might be in love with him, even though it’s a little early to say.

Still… since he’s so perfect… you want to do your best to be perfect for him, too.

So you’d made yourself ready for it this time – done preparations in the shower. 

But… you pout… it was all so embarrassing, and your poor mind was riddled with doubts as though you were a virgin all over again. 

What if something… gross happens? What if it hurts so bad you have to stop? Will it disappoint him? What if you hate it but go through with it anyway, only for him to keep asking? What if you have to break up because you won’t ever be able to look him in the eyes again?

“Are you okay? Is something wrong?” His voice slips through the inner turmoil.

He’d resurfaced from beneath your shirt on account of your silence, only to see you’d covered your face in both hands. He gently peels them away – revealing your eyes and the shy way you nibble your lip.

“I’m sorry…” He apologizes then. “I’ll stop asking-” 

“No!” You blurt. To his surprise – staring at you with those big puppy-dog eyes you just couldn’t handle seeing look so disheartened. “I mean…” 

You look away, cheeks burning – voice just barely above a whisper. 

“If you really want to… I’m fine with it…”

He seemed to perk up at that. If he’d had a tail, you know it would be wagging behind him. 

His chest swelled, eyes big and unblinking, swallowing thickly – breaths already thick with containment. 

He leans in close and nose-kisses you, brushing your lips with heated words, “Really? You’ll let me?”

You made a small sound, too humiliated to say or do much more than nod your head in confirmation.

He seemed to shudder, closing the space between you, kissing your lips softly – he tasted like static – buzzing with restricted urgency. Parting with a soft-spoken yet strained, “Thank you.”

Both his hands messaged your waist – fiddled with the band to your shorts as though he couldn’t wait to drag them down your thighs and free you.

Still speaking against your lips, “Can you turn around on your knees for me?”

Everything was burning – from the tips of your ears to your lips and deep down in your stomach where something equally hungry and anxious was preparing for something.

He moved back to allow you to crawl into position, taking a pillow and placing it underneath you – patting it while telling you to “Lie down.” 

You did like suggested, lying with your face and chest against the soft plume, sinking into it with your back in a slope and your ass presented. Heart pounding in your head, loud and hot, as he took position behind you – placing his hand back on your hips.

He hooked his fingers into the band of your shorts again, pulling them back over the fat of your haunches, then dragged them down slowly until they pooled around your knees. You felt the damp heat of his breath immediately hit the peach fuzz on the small of your back – seeping through the cotton of your panties – making your belly brew with butterflies. 

“Just relax, okay? Tell me to stop if I go too far.” He said, sensing how you quaked as he placed both palms on your globes – denting the plump flesh with greedy fingers.

It’s not like you haven’t fucked in this position before – it’s just that you knew this time was going to be different. You felt so exposed.

He fingered the frill of your panties and started peeling them off – baring your naked skin and the pretty dip between your cheeks. 

You yelped. His mouth was on you before he’d even finished undressing you – placing a sloppy half-bite half-kiss on your upper ass before proceeding to slurp the crack.

You whimpered – flustered and flushed as the heat of his tongue laid wet trails down through the valley until his lips met with your rim. You shuffled your thighs and balled the pillow in small fists as he groaned into you. Shamelessly squeezing your fat with his hands, spreading the cheeks to let him at your little puckered hole.

Your eyes screwed shut while you hid your face in the pillow beneath you – muffling all uneasy sounds as he canted his mouth against your ass. Chin rutting into your puffy cunt while bobbing his jaw, lipping at your taint and rim – nose nuzzled between your cheeks – mouth fully closed around you – moaning at the feel of it pulsing on the tip of his tongue as he runs it over the tight scrunch again and again.

Your shoulders brace as he tries and screw the wet muscle inside. You tense up way too tight for it to happen.

He smacks off with a raunchy sigh. Your heart is in your throat. 

Slick from your ignored cunt feels sticky on your swelled pussy-lips – hot and twitching in the cool air.

He pops the cap of the little bottle of lube the two of you always keep on hand. You flinch when his slick fingers come back to rub your hole. He gives it slow and soothing circles before easing the tip inside. Filling you up only to the first joint, waiting for you to relax and loosen before sinking the rest inside. 

He hums at the display, groaning, “Fuuh-ck~” Sliding the digit in knuckle-deep before slipping it out to the tip again – repeating the motion while feeling your muscles ripple around it. “You’re so cute, baby~ so pretty~”

He bows and places a chaste kiss on your buttcheek, laying his face on it like a pillow – his eyes half-mast while looking at his finger disappear inside you.

He works another in with the first, shuffling them – messaging the tightness, slowly training it to stretch. His hot breath fans over your wet skin, making you go goosefleshed.

“Fuck, baby – so pretty with my fingers inside yah~” He hums, almost in a whine while curling them inside you. “So fucking hot how you swallow and squeeze on ‘em like that~”

He pulls himself up again, tugging on his belt with one hand – keeping on fingering you with the other. 

His pants drop to the floor a moment later, and he lifts his neglected cock out of the sticky mess he’d made in his boxers – throbbingly fat and hard, pulsing in his fist and leaking pre, another pearl each time he rubs over the bulge of his tip.

He looks at your hole – eyes misty. You seem to have loosened up a bit – enough for him to part his fingers.

He pulls them both out with a schlick. “I think you’re ready…” His voice is sticky – stuck to his throat. “I’m gonna try ‘n put it in.”

Your hands curl into the pillow as you nod your head – eyes still squeezed shut. It hadn't felt too bad so far – just weird. Embarrassing and… clinical. A bit like a doctor’s visit. But you knew that would all change now.

His hands glide across your back, catching your crop top in balled fists, stretching it as his tip works on stretching out your opening – nudging against it, coaxing it into accepting the head.

“Fuh- oh fuck~” He moans, lost to the sight and feel of your butt seizing around him – closing up around his tip. 

You look so fucking perfect like that – face-down and kneeling with your ass pressed back against him – giving him your second virginity. 

His eyes flitter across the slope of your spine – looking over your creamy skin, looking so pretty, all glossy with dew, until he reaches your face. Your brows are pinched together, gnawing on your bottom lip, eyes shut tightly.

“Are you okay?” He pants.

You nod your head – curt and rushed.

He suppresses a sound – feeling even more heated. You’re so perfect, so good to him – the best girlfriend he could have ever asked for. Trusting him like this, letting him do this even when you’re so nervous about it. You must really love him.

He’s nearly crying, holding onto your hips as he fucks you with just the tip – loosening the rim up and going just a little deeper for every shallow thrust. He nearly barrels over, standing there with his back hunched – bowing his head, looking at where the two of you connect while sweat drips from his weighted bangs.

“I love you, too.” He confesses out of the blue, and you blink, looking back at him – seeing his mouth parted with blissful moans, his eyes wet, and brows softly curled. “You’re so fuckin’ perfect fo’me – so good.” 

He loves you so much he can barely take the blossoming in his chest, feeling like he wants to eat you up and swallow you whole. His girl – who laughs at all his silly jokes and holds his hand everywhere you go and doesn’t tease him when he yelps and holds you close during horror movies. His perfect perky girlfriend – who lets him fuck you raw and cum inside, and now… even letting him fuck your tight round ass for the very first time.

He's almost all the way in now – just a few more thrusts, and you’ll have him swallowed down to the base with his balls pressed firmly against the puffy lips of your wet pussy.

“Fuh-uuck-” He breathes out again, gripping your hips tight as he bottoms out. 

He nearly cums right then, having to bite his lip to hold back – savoring how you ripple and squeeze him – so tight and firm.

You’re such a good girl taking him so well and so deep, lying so sweetly beneath him with your ass presented – letting him nestle his entire length inside you. Curling your toes all cutely as you adjust with only pretty girly mews leaving you.

You didn’t expect him to mount you. 

But he does. Now standing with his feet in the bed, squatting over you with his cock sinking balls deep in your ass. Freshly broken-in, it’s tight and firm and twitchy as though it’s confused as to why there's a big fat cock stretching it out. 

He can’t help but smile, perched on top of you – hands still hooked upon your hips for balance while he leans forward, settling even deeper. 

You moan, and it nearly drives him wild. Barely holding himself together as he pulls out – wishing he had something to bite into instead of his lip as he focuses on the way your firm walls clench on him, clinging to his shaft so tightly it’s hard pulling out despite the wetness – it’s so good he’s losing it. 

He’s taking his perfect girlfriend in her perfect ass. And it feels so fucking good his hands leave their grip on your hips as he slugs forward, bending over you until his chest presses into your back, and his head rests on top of yours, cheek to cheek – slinging both arms around you, putting you in a headlock – leaving you to do nothing else but pant, squished between his biceps and his cock kisses your guts. 

“Can’t believe I'm fucking your little ass, baby.” He rants breathlessly. “It's so tight and good, gripping me so fuckin’ hard.” Huffing and groaning with his back hunched as he curves into your butt as deep as he can – stuffing into you from behind slowly and carefully as though he’s savoring every single flutter of you hugging him.

He’s barely even pulling out – kneading as far as his cock can reach instead – cock-warming himself inside you.

“Fuck, baby – I can cum inside, right?” He whimpers against you, kissing the corner of your mouth with his tongue out.

You’re so squished beneath him you can only just wheeze out the word. “O-okay-”

“Oh- fuck, I love you.” He cries when he blows, squeezing you so tight you’re choking as he pumps pulse after pulse of thick hot cum deep inside you. “I love you, I love you- love you- love you so much- so fuckin’ much-”

And you don’t know if it’s the confession, the headlock, or the cum being pumped up your guts – but your clit’s pulsing and your cunt’s twitching even though it’s around nothing, gushing down your shaking thighs as your butt pushes itself flush against your boyfriend’s cock, clenching hard around it and milking him free of every drop.

♡ BNHA – Deku, Shoto, Denki, Kirishima, Shigaraki, Touya-Dabi, Hawks, Natsuo, Mirio ♡ JJK – Gojo, Yuji, Yuuta, Choso ♡ HQ – Kuro, Bokuto, Miya twins ♡ AOT – Armin ♡ DS – Zenitsu ♡ WB – Sakura, Nirei, Umemiya

♡ FEM x M INSERT masterlist ♡ GN x M INSERT masterlist

[theonottsbxtch]

PREACHER’S DAUGHTER | MV1

an: can you tell i have an amazing music taste, anyway i’m finishing up a lot of my wips this weekend therefore be ready for a bit of stuff to come out!! i need to update my master list

warnings: domestic abuse, religious themes obvs

wc: 10.2k

Max was never one for church.

Never believed in any of that.

But God, would he get on his knees for a girl.

He couldn’t even remember when he first saw her—it was like she’d always been there, glowing in a way that made his chest tighten and his palms itch to touch what he had no business reaching for.

She was perfect in that untouchable kind of way. Always smiling, always polite. The kind of girl who said "please" and "thank you" without sounding fake. She had a laugh that could make angels jealous and a silver cross around her neck that caught the light just right, like some divine shield.

And Max? He was everything she wasn’t. Grease under his nails, a cigarette always tucked behind his ear, and a devil-may-care attitude that had sent half the town clutching their pearls. He’d been watching her for weeks now, maybe months. The way she walked, her little rituals—Bible study on Wednesday nights, choir practice on Saturdays, and the absolute certainty that she’d be on her family’s porch every evening at seven, helping her mom snap beans or some other domestic chore that Max couldn’t wrap his head around.

She didn’t belong in his world. Hell, she probably didn’t even know it existed. But that didn’t stop him from wanting her. No, needing her.

It was the way she looked so... pure, he supposed. Untouched by the grime and shadows he carried around like second skin. And it wasn’t just her innocence he wanted to wreck. It was the thought of making her his—really his. Of seeing her in his world, in his trailer, on his bike, wearing his marks, not that dainty little cross that probably smelled of Sunday mornings and lavender soap.

Max didn’t follow her. Not exactly. But he always seemed to know where she’d be, and tonight wasn’t any different. Wednesday night Bible study. He parked his beat-up car down the street from the little white church, hidden enough to keep from drawing attention. Not that anyone would think twice—it wasn’t like he blended in with the choir crowd.

The stained-glass windows glowed softly, warm light spilling out into the cool evening air. He could hear the faint hum of voices, maybe a hymn being sung, as he leaned back against the hood of his car and waited. He lit another cigarette, the flicker of the lighter briefly illuminating the sharp lines of his face.

When the front doors finally swung open, he straightened, tossing the half-smoked cigarette onto the pavement and crushing it under his boot. She was the last to leave, as he knew she would be. Everyone else had trickled out in pairs and groups, chatting and laughing as they headed home. But she stayed behind, always locking up on her own.

Tonight, she was struggling with a box full of what looked like hymnals and Bible study materials, juggling it while trying to fit the key into the heavy wooden doors. Max could see the way her fingers fumbled, her brow furrowing in frustration.

Before he could think better of it, he started across the street. The click of his boots on the pavement caught her attention, and she turned her head sharply, her soft eyes widening as she saw him.

“Need a hand?” he asked, his voice low, almost teasing.

She hesitated, her gaze flicking from his face to the box in her arms and then back again. He noticed how she clutched it tighter, like she wasn’t sure if she should trust him.

“It’s fine,” she said quickly, her voice as soft and sweet as he’d imagined. “I’ve got it.”

“Doesn’t look like it,” he said, stepping closer. Before she could protest, he reached out and took the box from her. Their fingers brushed, and the contrast hit him like a punch to the gut. Her hands were soft, smooth, and clean, while his were rough, calloused, and stained with grease that never seemed to wash off.

“Thanks,” she said reluctantly, looking up at him. He noticed how small she seemed compared to him, how her cross caught the light even in the dark.

“You’re the boy that fixes Daddy’s car,” she said after a beat. “From the shop in town.”

Max raised an eyebrow, surprised. “Didn’t know you knew me.”

“I don’t,” she said quickly, her cheeks flushing. “I just… heard Daddy talking about you. Said you do good work.”

He smirked at that, carrying the box like it weighed nothing and setting it gently down beside her. “Guess I’m a little famous, then.”

She laughed softly, and it was the kind of sound that made something deep in his chest tighten. She reached for her key again, this time managing to lock the doors without the box in her way.

“Thanks for the help,” she said, stepping back and brushing her hands against her skirt.

“Anytime,” he replied, his grin widening. He leaned against the doors, watching her as she adjusted her bag over her shoulder. “What’s your name?”

She hesitated for a moment, her lips parting as if she were about to answer, but then she shook her head. “I should go. My family will be waiting.”

And just like that, she was walking away, her head held high, her skirt swaying gently with each step.

Max watched her until she disappeared around the corner, his grin fading into something darker, more determined.

“See you around,” he muttered under his breath.

Because he would. One way or another.

Max didn’t see her again for days, but that didn’t mean she wasn’t on his mind. She had a way of lingering there, like the scent of rain after a storm—clean, fresh, and completely out of place in his world.

The more he thought about her, the more he couldn’t shake the way her voice had sounded when she’d called him "the boy that fixes Daddy’s car." There was no judgment in it, no disdain. Just a simple observation, like she hadn’t even realised how different their worlds were.

But Max knew. Oh, he knew.

She was the preacher’s daughter, for God’s sake. The girl who probably spent her nights reading scripture and praying for sinners like him. And he? He was the guy people crossed the street to avoid, the one mothers warned their daughters about. He’d left home at fifteen, slept on park benches and under bridges until he’d scraped together enough to buy that rusted-out trailer. He worked double shifts at the garage, spent his weekends drinking cheap beer with guys who wouldn’t bat an eye at a bar fight, and had a reputation that kept most people from looking him in the eye.

He wasn’t good enough for her. He knew that.

Didn’t mean he didn’t want her anyway.

The next Wednesday, he found himself back outside the church, parked in the same spot as before. He hadn’t planned it—at least, that’s what he told himself. But when he saw her again, her laugh carrying across the parking lot as she said goodbye to the last of her Bible study group, he felt that same pull in his chest.

This time, he didn’t approach her. Not yet. Instead, he leaned against his shit box car and watched as she locked the doors, her movements quick and practiced. She wasn’t carrying anything tonight, but she still seemed to pause for a moment, glancing around like she could feel his eyes on her.

He ducked his head, pretending to light a cigarette even though it was already burning. When he glanced back up, she was gone.

The next few days passed in a blur of oil changes, engine repairs, and sleepless nights. Max couldn’t shake the image of her—the way her hands had brushed his, the way she’d looked at him like she was trying to figure him out.

By the time Sunday rolled around, he couldn’t stay away.

He parked his bike a few blocks from the church, out of sight, and watched as families filed in for the morning service. They were all dressed in their Sunday best—dads in pressed suits, moms in floral dresses, kids squirming in their fancy clothes.

And then there she was, walking up the steps with her family. She wore a white dress that stopped just below her knees, her hair pulled back in a way that showed off the delicate line of her neck. The silver cross around her neck gleamed in the sunlight, and Max found himself staring at it, wondering what it would look like tangled with the chains he wore.

Her father was at her side, his hand resting protectively on her shoulder as he greeted the congregation. He was everything Max wasn’t—clean-cut, well-spoken, a man who commanded respect just by standing there.

Max stayed until the doors closed behind her, then turned and walked back to his bike.

He didn’t know what he was doing, or why he couldn’t just let it go. All he knew was that he’d see her again.

And when he did, he’d make her notice him.

Max didn’t plan to follow her after the service, not really. But when he saw her step out of the church alone, her family nowhere in sight, curiosity got the better of him. She walked with purpose, her hands clutching a small book—probably her Bible, he figured—and her expression calm, like she knew exactly where she was going.

He stayed a block or so behind, keeping his footsteps quiet on the pavement. She didn’t seem like the type to sneak off after church, and yet, here she was, turning off the main road and heading toward the park.

When she reached a shaded bench near the pond, she sat down, smoothing her dress before opening her book. Max hung back, watching as she tucked a strand of hair behind her ear and began to read, her lips moving silently.

He couldn’t stop himself. Hands shoved in his pockets, he sauntered over, his boots crunching on the gravel path. She looked up as he approached, her eyes widening for a moment before settling into something softer, almost expectant.

“I told my daddy I saw you,” she said, closing the book and resting it on her lap.

Max raised an eyebrow, his smirk tugging at the corner of his mouth. “And what did he say?”

“That I shouldn’t hang around with people like you,” she replied simply, her voice steady, but her fingers fidgeting with the edge of the book.

He stepped closer, leaning down slightly so they were almost at eye level. “But I don’t see you running,” he whispered, his voice low and teasing.

Her cheeks flushed, but she held his gaze, her expression unflinching. “I’ve noticed you, you know,” she said, tilting her head. “You’re always… around. Outside the church. Watching.”

He straightened up, rubbing the back of his neck. “Can’t help it,” he admitted. “You’re hard to ignore.”

She blinked, her lashes fluttering like she wasn’t sure what to make of that. Then, to his surprise, she smiled—a small, hesitant thing that made his chest ache in a way he wasn’t used to.

“I’ve been praying for you,” she said softly, her hands tightening on the book.

Max couldn’t stop the chuckle that escaped him, low and rough. “Praying for me, huh? What for?”

“That you’ll find peace,” she said simply, her voice so earnest it made him pause.

He looked at her, really looked at her—the way the sunlight caught in her hair, the way her fingers trembled just a little against the leather cover of her book, the way she seemed so fragile and so unshakable all at once.

“Peace,” he repeated, the word foreign on his tongue. “You think that’s something I’m missing?”

Her smile grew just a fraction, her eyes softening. “Don’t you?”

For a moment, he didn’t know what to say. He wanted to laugh it off, to brush her words aside like they didn’t hit somewhere deep and uncomfortable. But the way she was looking at him made it impossible.

She shifted slightly on the bench, her hands resting in her lap as she looked at him. “Everyone finds their way,” she said softly, her voice carrying the kind of conviction that made Max’s chest ache. “One way or another. You just have to be willing to see it.”

Max wanted to scoff, to tell her he didn’t have a “way” to find, but the words died in his throat when he noticed it—a faint bruise just below the cuff of her sleeve, barely visible as she adjusted the book in her lap. His eyes narrowed, the casual smirk on his face fading.

“What happened there?” he asked, nodding toward her arm.

She followed his gaze, quickly tugging her sleeve down to cover the mark. “Oh, that?” She gave a small, nervous laugh. “It’s nothing. I play volleyball sometimes with the girls from church. Just got a little too close to the net.”

Max didn’t buy it. The way she spoke, the way her fingers tightened on the fabric of her dress—it didn’t add up. But he didn’t push. Not yet.

“You sure about that?” he asked, his tone light but his eyes sharp.

She nodded quickly, her smile not quite reaching her eyes. “Positive.”

The silence between them stretched, and Max could feel the distance growing, even though they were sitting inches apart.

“I should get home,” she said suddenly, standing and smoothing out her skirt. “It’s getting late.”

He watched as she picked up her book and slung her bag over her shoulder, the hesitant smile she gave him feeling more like a goodbye than a see-you-later.

“You walking?” he asked, standing as well.

She nodded. “It’s not far.”

He didn’t offer to walk her, knowing she’d probably say no. Instead, he stayed where he was, watching her disappear down the path until she was out of sight.

The next Wednesday, Max found himself back at the church. He hadn’t planned it—at least, that’s what he told himself—but when he saw her locking up the doors again, he couldn’t stop himself from approaching.

She glanced up as he stepped up to the doors, her face lighting up with a mixture of surprise and something softer that made his chest tighten.

“You’re here again,” she said, her voice carrying a hint of teasing.

“Couldn’t stay away,” he replied, leaning casually against the doorframe.

She hesitated for a moment, then tilted her head toward the doors. “Do you want to see the inside?”

Max raised an eyebrow. “You offering to give me a tour?”

“Maybe,” she said with a small smile. “If you’re interested.”

He didn’t hesitate. “Yeah. Show me.”

She unlocked the doors and pushed them open, leading him into the dimly lit sanctuary. The air was cool and quiet, the kind of silence that felt heavier than normal.

“This is where we hold services,” she said, gesturing toward the rows of wooden pews. “And over there is the choir loft.”

Max followed her, his eyes drifting over the stained-glass windows and the simple but elegant decor. It wasn’t the kind of place he ever pictured himself in, but being here with her made it feel… different.

“And where do you ask for forgiveness?” he asked, his voice low as he stepped closer to her.

She paused, then turned and led him to the front of the church. “Here,” she said, motioning toward the altar. “This is where people kneel to pray.”

Max’s gaze flicked from the altar to her, and for a moment, he couldn’t help the thought that slipped into his mind. The idea of her on her knees, not in prayer but for him, sent a rush of something dark and hungry through him.

She knelt down, her hands clasped in front of her as if demonstrating. “You just… let it all out here. Whatever’s on your heart, you bring it to God.”

He didn’t say anything, just watched her, his throat tightening as the image burned itself into his memory. He wondered, fleetingly, what she’d look like if she weren’t here for forgiveness but for him.

“You going to try?” she asked, looking up at him, her expression earnest and full of trust.

He shook his head, forcing himself to focus. “Not my thing,” he muttered, stepping back.

She stood, brushing off her skirt. “Maybe one day,” she said softly.

Max wasn’t so sure. But he’d come back, if only to see her again.

He didn’t ever think he’d see her in his stomping ground, ever.

The garage smelled like oil and metal, the kind of earthy, gritty scent that clung to Max no matter how much he scrubbed his hands. He was leaned under the hood of an old Chevy—her dad’s car—when he heard the soft jingle of the bell above the shop door.

He straightened, wiping his hands on a rag as she stepped inside. Her presence was like sunlight cutting through the dim, grease-streaked world he lived in.

“Didn’t expect to see you here,” he said, leaning against the car and smirking. “Ain’t I usually the one picking you up?”

She stopped a few steps in, her hands clasping the strap of her bag. “I left some college work in my daddy’s car,” she said, her voice steady but careful, like she wasn’t sure how to navigate him in this setting.

Max raised an eyebrow, tossing the rag onto a workbench. “Well, aren’t you lucky I’ve got it right here.”

She hesitated, her eyes flicking to the car before meeting his. “Can I…?”

He stepped aside, gesturing toward the passenger door. “Be my guest.”

She nodded, walking over and leaning into the open door to retrieve her things. Max’s eyes flicked down before he could stop himself, catching a glimpse of her skirt riding up as she bent over, exposing plain white cotton panties that clung to her hips.

It was innocent, unintentional—but it made his pulse spike, his throat tightening as he quickly looked away. His hand clenched into a fist, nails biting into his palm as he forced himself to focus.

Then he saw it—a jagged gash on the side of her thigh, red and raw against her pale skin. His smirk faded, replaced by a frown as something twisted in his gut.

“You gonna tell me what happened there?” he asked, nodding toward her leg.

She froze for a moment before straightening, clutching her notebook tightly against her chest. “Oh,” she said, glancing down at the cut. “It’s nothing. I was playing with my brother in the park, and the ball rolled into some bushes. I went to get it and scratched myself on a branch.”

Max folded his arms, his gaze sharp and unrelenting. “You’ve got an awful lot of bad luck, don’t you? First volleyball, now this.”

Her eyes darted to his, wide and a little panicked. “It’s the truth,” she said quickly, but her voice wavered just enough to betray her.

He stepped closer, his presence looming as he leaned in, his voice a low whisper. “Lying’s a sin, you know.”

Her lips parted, and for a moment, she looked like she might crumble. But then her shoulders straightened, and she lifted her chin, defiance flashing in her eyes. “I believe you should worry about the long list of sins you’ve racked up,” she shot back, her voice trembling but firm.

Max smirked at that, the sharp edge of his grin making her swallow hard. “I thought you were praying for me,” he said, his tone almost teasing but laced with something darker.

She stared at him, her hands tightening on her notebook until her knuckles turned white. “I should go,” she said finally, her voice clipped.

“Don’t let me stop you,” he replied, stepping back just enough to let her pass.

She turned and walked out, her steps quick and purposeful, the door swinging shut behind her with a jingle that felt louder than it should have.

Max watched her go, the tension in his chest twisting into something heavier. He didn’t believe her for a second. But the look in her eyes—the mix of fear, defiance, and something else he couldn’t quite name—made him want to figure out exactly what she was hiding.

And he would. One way or another.

A few days later, Max was leaning under the hood of yet another clunker when his manager strolled over, clipboard in hand.

“Got a favor to ask,” the older man grumbled. “Preacher’s too busy to pick up his car. Needs it dropped off at his place.”

Max straightened, rubbing his hands on a rag, his pulse quickening at the mention of her house. He didn’t even have to think about it.

“I’ll do it,” he said casually, masking the eagerness bubbling under his skin. “Got time.”

His manager raised an eyebrow. “Yeah? You’re sure?”

“Yeah.” Max tossed the rag aside, the corner of his mouth tugging into a grin. “Consider it handled.”

By the time he pulled up to the preacher’s house in the old Chevy, the sun was just beginning to dip below the horizon, casting the house in a warm, golden light. He killed the engine, climbing out and leaning against the car for a moment.

That’s when he heard it.

The sound drifted through the open window—a soft, mournful piano melody that sent a shiver down his spine. It was beautiful, haunting even, and he knew immediately that it was her.

He stood there, listening, his chest tightening as each note seemed to carry a weight he couldn’t quite place. Then, as the song trailed off, he forced himself to move, stepping up to the door and knocking firmly.

The music stopped. A few seconds later, the door creaked open, and there she was.

She looked different. Vulnerable.

Her hair was loose, falling in soft waves over her shoulders, and she was wearing a simple pair of pyjamas—pale blue cotton shorts and an oversized t-shirt that hung loosely on her frame. She blinked up at him, clearly surprised, and for a moment, neither of them spoke.

“Hey,” he said, his voice quieter than usual. “Brought your dad’s car back.”

“Thanks,” she said, her voice soft and a little hoarse.

His eyes drifted lower, and that’s when he saw it—a dark, fresh bruise blooming along her forearm, just visible under the edge of her sleeve.

His chest tightened, and before he could stop himself, his hand reached out, his rough fingers brushing against the tender skin.

She flinched, but not away. Her lips parted, her eyes flicking up to meet his, wide and uncertain.

“What happened?” he asked, his voice low but laced with tension.

She pulled her arm back, wrapping it around herself like a shield. “I’ve been sick,” she murmured, her words hesitant. “That’s why I’ve been home. Just… clumsy, I guess.”

He didn’t believe her. Not for a second.

“Sick, huh?” he said, his voice edged with scepticism.

She nodded, but the way her gaze darted to the floor gave her away.

For a moment, the air between them felt heavy, charged with something neither of them seemed able to name. Max’s hand hovered at his side, aching to reach out again, but he forced himself to step back.

The sound of heavy footsteps broke the moment, and Max turned just as her father appeared in the doorway.

“Evening,” the preacher said, his voice warm but commanding, his eyes flicking between Max and his daughter.

“Car’s good as new,” Max said, holding out the keys. “She’ll run smooth for you.”

“Appreciate it,” the preacher replied, taking the keys with a nod.

Max hesitated, glancing at her one last time. “You know where to find me if you need anything. Always here for you to rely on the car.”

His words were meant for her father, but his eyes stayed on her, making sure she understood the double meaning.

The preacher didn’t seem to notice. “Thank you, son,” he said, reaching into his pocket and pulling out a crisp bill. He handed it to Max with a firm handshake.

Max nodded, pocketing the tip without looking at it. As he stepped back, the preacher gave him a polite smile before closing the door firmly, leaving Max staring at the wood grain.

The following morning sun filtered weakly through the dusty blinds of Max’s trailer, casting long shadows over the cluttered space. He was sprawled on his bed, one leg hanging off the side, barely awake when he heard it—a soft, hesitant knock at the door.

For a moment, he thought he was imagining it, the sound so light it could’ve been the wind rattling the screen. But then it came again, firmer this time.

Grumbling under his breath, Max swung his legs over the side of the bed, rubbing a hand over his face. He shuffled to the door in nothing but his boxers, too groggy to care about decency.

When he pulled the door open, he froze.

There she was, standing on the cracked wooden steps of his trailer.

She looked like she’d stepped out of another world—her crisp white blouse tucked into a pale blue skirt that swayed lightly in the breeze, her hair perfectly combed and pinned back. But her eyes were red-rimmed, her cheeks blotchy, and there was a tremble in her lip that told him she’d been crying.

Her gaze flicked downward, catching sight of his bare chest and boxer-clad frame. Her face flushed pink, and she quickly looked away, clutching the strap of her bag so tightly her knuckles turned white.

Max blinked, his grogginess evaporating in an instant. “What are you doing here?” he asked, his voice rough from sleep.

She didn’t answer right away, just stared down at the ground like she couldn’t meet his eyes. He stepped back, holding the door open wider. “You wanna come in?”

She hesitated for a moment, then nodded, stepping over the threshold.

As she entered, the contrast between her polished appearance and the rough, lived-in state of his trailer couldn’t have been starker. The cramped space was cluttered with tools, half-empty coffee mugs, and a laundry basket overflowing with clothes. She looked out of place, like a dove dropped into the middle of a storm.

Max closed the door behind her, leaning against it as he crossed his arms. “You okay?” he asked, his tone softer now.

She stood in the middle of the room, her arms wrapped around herself. “I… I didn’t want to stay at home,” she said quietly.

The way her voice cracked on the last word made his chest tighten.

“What happened?” he asked, stepping closer but keeping his distance, giving her space to speak.

She shook her head, her fingers gripping her bag tighter. “I… I snuck out,” she admitted, her voice trembling. “I couldn’t stay there anymore.”

Max’s jaw tightened. He wanted to ask why, but he already knew. He’d known for weeks.

Finally, she looked up at him, tears brimming in her wide, frightened eyes. “It’s my daddy,” she whispered. “He… he hits me.”

Her words hung in the air, heavy and raw.

Max’s fists clenched at his sides, his whole body going rigid. “How long’s this been going on?” he asked, his voice low and tight.

She looked away, her gaze darting to the corner of the room as if she could hide from the question. “As long as I can remember,” she said finally, her voice barely audible.

Max swore under his breath, running a hand through his hair. He wanted to punch something, to drag her father out into the street and make him pay. But more than anything, he wanted to make her feel safe.

“You should’ve told someone,” he said, his voice softer now, though the anger still simmered just beneath the surface.

Her eyes snapped back to his, a flash of fear and desperation in them. “I couldn’t,” she said quickly. “I can’t. If people knew, it’d ruin everything. My daddy’s the preacher. People look up to him. They’d never believe me.”

Max stepped closer, his rough hands itching to reach out and touch her, to ground her somehow. But he didn’t. Not yet.

“You don’t have to go back there,” he said firmly. “You can stay here. No one’s gonna hurt you while I’m around.”

Her gaze softened, her lips trembling as she whispered, “Why do you care so much?”

Max let out a low, humorless laugh, shaking his head. “You think I can just stand by and let this happen? After everything I’ve seen…” He paused, meeting her gaze head-on. “You’re not like the rest of us. You don’t belong in a place like that.”

Her breath hitched, and for a moment, the space between them felt charged, heavy with unspoken words. She looked like she might say something, but then a tear slipped down her cheek, and she wiped it away quickly.

“I shouldn’t have come here,” she said suddenly, backing toward the door. “I didn’t mean to bother you—”

“You’re not bothering me,” Max said firmly, cutting her off.

She hesitated, her hand hovering near the door handle.

“You don’t have to do this alone,” he said, his voice softer now, almost pleading.

She looked at him for a long moment, her eyes searching his face as if trying to decide whether she could trust him. Finally, she nodded, just barely, and let her hand fall away from the door.

Max rubbed the back of his neck again, his eyes never leaving her face as she stood there, caught between leaving and staying. He could see the battle in her—wanting to run but needing something, someone, to anchor her.

“You can stay here tonight,” he said, his voice steady but gentle, like he was trying not to spook her.

Her eyes widened slightly, and for a moment, she didn’t respond. She looked around the cramped trailer, at the cluttered counters and the sagging couch, her delicate hands gripping the strap of her bag like it was a lifeline.

“I don’t know…” she started, her voice faltering.

“No one’ll bother you here,” Max said, stepping closer. “You’ll be safe. And if you want to leave in the morning, you can. No strings.”

She bit her lip, the hesitation etched in every line of her face.

“But…” she whispered, looking up at him, “I need to go to Sunday service.”

Max blinked, surprised by the sudden shift in her tone.

“While I’m mad at my daddy,” she continued, her voice growing steadier, “I still have to go. I can’t not be there. It’s… it’s important to me.”

Her words hung in the air, a quiet plea wrapped in conviction.

Max nodded without hesitation. “I’ll take you,” he said simply. “First thing in the morning.”

She blinked up at him, a flicker of relief crossing her features. “You promise?”

“Yeah,” he said, a faint grin tugging at the corner of his mouth. “Scout’s honor.”

That drew a small, hesitant smile from her, though it quickly faded as her gaze dropped to the floor again.

“I’ll stay,” she said softly, almost like she didn’t believe the words herself.

Max exhaled, the tension in his chest easing just slightly. “Good. Make yourself at home,” he said, gesturing vaguely around the trailer. “It’s not much, but it’s better than where you came from.”

She nodded, her movements stiff and unsure, like she didn’t quite know how to exist in this space.

“I gotta get to work,” Max added, glancing at the clock on the wall. “But you’re welcome to stay as long as you want. Bed is yours, and there’s food in the fridge—though, fair warning, it’s mostly leftovers and beer.”

That earned him a faint, almost amused look, and he felt a strange sense of satisfaction at the sight.

“I’ll be fine,” she said quietly.

Max hesitated for a moment, then reached out, placing a hand on her shoulder. His touch was light, careful, but firm enough to ground her.

“You’re safe here,” he said, his voice low but certain.

She nodded again, her gaze flicking up to meet his, and for a moment, the silence between them felt warm, comforting.

“I’ll be back in a few hours,” he said, stepping toward his makeshift bedroom grabbing some clothes and slipping them on. “If you need anything—anything at all—you call me, alright? Danny down the road has my number, he’s got the graffiti all over his trailer.”

“Alright,” she replied, her voice steadier now.

With one last glance over his shoulder, Max stepped out into the morning light, the door clicking shut behind him. As he walked toward his beat-up car, a strange mix of emotions swirled in his chest—anger, protectiveness, and something else he couldn’t quite name.

She’d taken a risk coming to him, and he wasn’t about to let her down. Not now. Not ever.

Max worked through the afternoon with his head barely in the game. The thought of her in his trailer—his space—kept creeping into his mind. He couldn’t shake the image of her standing there, looking so out of place, like she belonged somewhere far away from this rundown world he inhabited. The image of her soft eyes and trembling lip haunted him as he fixed engines and cleaned up at the shop.

By the time he came back to the trailer, the evening sun had already dipped behind the horizon, casting a pale, dusky glow over everything. He turned the key in the door, the familiar creak of the hinges echoing in the quiet.

And then he froze.

The trailer didn’t look the same.

It was spotless.

The clutter on the counters, the dirty dishes, the laundry piled up in the corner—all of it was gone. The floor was swept, the counters wiped down, and there was even a faint smell of something cooking, something hearty and savory. Max took a step inside, his eyes scanning the room as if he was seeing it for the first time.

And there she was, standing in the kitchen.

She had slipped into one of his old band t-shirts—black and faded with the edges curling up—and paired it with the skirt she’d worn earlier. Her hair was still down, a little messy from the day, but there was something about the way she moved around his space that made her seem... at ease. She was focused on the stove, stirring something in a pot, humming quietly to herself as if she belonged.

Max felt a sudden knot in his stomach, a wave of desire mixed with something deeper—something protective. He swallowed hard, his gaze dropping down to her legs, exposed beneath the hem of the shirt, and then back up to her face. She didn’t notice him at first, too absorbed in what she was doing, and he took a few moments to just watch her.

She looked so out of place in his world—his messy, cluttered world—but at the same time, she fit perfectly.

She caught sight of him, and a warm, almost shy smile spread across her face. "I wasn’t sure what you liked, but I found some stuff in the cupboard. It’s not much, but I thought… I could make you something."

Max’s chest tightened at the sincerity in her voice. He had no idea she could cook.

“You didn’t have to do all this,” he said, his voice rough with something unspoken. He stepped further into the trailer, noticing that she’d even made the bed. The blankets were neatly arranged, the pillow fluffed, the whole room looking like it belonged in some kind of hotel. It felt... new.

She shrugged, a little embarrassed. "It's the least I could do. You’ve been so kind to me... I wanted to help, in some way."

Max ran a hand over his jaw, fighting the urge to reach out and pull her close. Her presence was intoxicating, her gentle kindness disarming. The way she stood there, so effortless in his space, made something inside him shift. His heart beat faster as he moved toward the kitchen, unable to resist the pull of her.

She turned back to the stove, unaware of the war going on inside him. He couldn’t help but glance at the way her shirt rode up on her thighs, the curve of her hips, and the soft skin of her exposed legs. His mind flashed to earlier—when she’d stepped into his trailer with those wide eyes, trembling and vulnerable. And now, she was here, looking like she belonged to him in ways she probably didn’t even realise.

His hands clenched at his sides. He needed to calm down.

“You didn’t have to clean everything up,” he said, trying to focus on something other than how badly he wanted to kiss her, touch her, feel her beneath his hands.

“I don’t mind,” she replied, her voice soft. “It felt wrong to just sit around, so I figured I could do something. It’s a mess here, but I… I wanted it to feel like home for a bit.”

Home.

The word hit him harder than he expected. Max didn’t know what it meant to feel at home. His life had always been a constant hustle, scraping by, living in his car, barely getting by. But here, with her, in the middle of this trailer—he felt like maybe he could understand it, just a little bit.

She stirred the pot again, and Max took a deep breath. His body was tight with the need to do something—to touch her, hold her—but he fought it down.

He stepped closer, casually leaning against the counter. “You sure you’re okay with all this?” he asked, trying to keep his tone light, casual.

She glanced at him, her eyes soft but unreadable. “I’m okay,” she said, her voice just above a whisper. She seemed to hesitate for a moment before continuing, her gaze steady. “I just… I don’t know what to do anymore. I’m scared, Max.”

The words hit him like a punch to the gut, and before he could stop himself, he reached out, his fingers brushing the back of her hand. Her skin was soft, delicate, and his pulse skipped in response. She didn’t pull away, but she didn’t look at him either.

Max leaned in just slightly, his breath catching in his throat as he whispered, “I’ll keep you safe, I swear.”

There was a moment of silence. And then, in the quietest voice, almost as if she were speaking to herself, she whispered, “I believe you.”

And in that moment, something inside Max shifted completely. He didn’t just want her. He needed to protect her. To keep her from harm.

The tension in the air was thick, and he knew if he didn’t walk away now, he wouldn’t be able to control himself. His hand lingered on hers for just a second longer before he pulled away, his heart pounding in his chest.

“Let’s eat,” he said, trying to mask the urgency in his voice, trying to ground himself again.

Max didn’t have a proper dining table—hell, he barely had enough room for his sofa—but tonight, that didn’t matter.

He took a seat on the old sofa, and she settled beside him, carefully placing the plates of food between them. The smell of whatever she’d made filled the air—something simple but satisfying, with just a hint of warmth that made it feel like a real meal. It was the first time in a while that Max had felt something other than hunger when he sat down to eat.

As she set her fork down and looked at her hands, she murmured something under her breath, her voice soft and steady. Max was halfway through a bite when he realised she was praying.

He watched her quietly, noting the calmness in her demeanor, the way her hands were folded neatly in front of her. Her lips moved with the words, a quiet reverence that made the air in the room feel still, almost sacred.

When she finished, she looked at him, a small, shy smile tugging at the corner of her mouth. “Sorry,” she said, her cheeks flushed. “It’s just… habit.”

Max shook his head, swallowing the lump in his throat. “No need to apologise,” he said, his voice softer than usual. He found it cute—no, charming—how she prayed before every meal, how that simple act of faith seemed to give her some semblance of peace. He had no idea what that kind of peace felt like.

They ate quietly, the sound of forks scraping against plates the only noise between them. There was something almost intimate about this simple moment—the way she sat beside him, the way she kept her space but still seemed to fill the room.

It wasn’t long before Max’s mind started to wander again, and his gaze drifted down to her hand as she picked up her glass of water. He noticed the ring on her finger, the simple silver band catching the light.

“What’s that?” he asked, his voice casual, though his stomach clenched slightly.

She looked down at it, almost absentmindedly, before meeting his gaze. “It’s a purity ring,” she said, her voice quiet, almost reverent.

Max froze, his fork half-raised to his mouth. A purity ring. The thought hit him like a punch to the gut, a wave of something dark and primal swirling beneath the surface. She wore it like a promise, a promise to stay pure, to wait for marriage, to avoid the kinds of things he’d spent most of his life seeking out—things he wasn’t sure he could even offer her if she wanted them.

His thoughts scrambled, his chest tightening. He forced himself to swallow the lump in his throat and shifted on the couch, trying to ignore the tightening in his jeans. He couldn’t help himself. The idea of her—innocent, pure, wearing a ring like that—drove him mad. It made him think things he shouldn’t, things that went against the very core of who she was.

He cleared his throat, trying to distract himself from the thoughts swirling in his head. “I, uh… I think you should take the bed,” he said abruptly. “I’ll crash here on the couch.”

She gave him a soft look, her expression kind, though there was something in her eyes that told him she wasn’t used to accepting charity—or favours of any kind.

“Thank you,” she said, glancing at the bed and then back at him.

She stood up, taking both their plates to the sink and left him in the makeshift living room.

Max settled back onto the small couch, but sleep didn’t come easy. He was restless, his mind too filled with thoughts of her, her innocence, her sweetness, and that damn purity ring. Even though there was a whole doorframe separating the two of them, the room felt too small. His chest too tight. His body too aware of everything that was happening in that tiny space between them.

Eventually, he shifted again, sighing in frustration as he tossed the blanket off of himself. The couch wasn’t uncomfortable, but it was too small for someone his size. He needed to stretch out.

A few minutes later, he heard the soft creak of the floorboards. He turned his head slightly, squinting through the dim light. She was standing in the doorway, her silhouette outlined by the faint glow of his beside table.

“Max?” Her voice was soft, tentative.

He sat up, blinking. “Yeah?”

“I—uh, I can’t sleep,” she admitted, stepping further into the room. “And you look... uncomfortable on the couch.” She hesitated, then bit her lip. “Would you, um, want to sleep in the bed with me? Just... just for tonight?”

Max felt his breath catch in his throat. He should’ve said no. He knew he should’ve. But she was standing there in his shirt, her hair falling messily around her shoulders, and her eyes—those soft, uncertain eyes—were pleading with him in a way that made him feel like he was the one who needed her comfort.

“Are you sure?” he asked, voice tight.

She nodded, her hands trembling just slightly as she pushed a stray lock of hair behind her ear. “Please. I just—” She paused, biting her lip, as if searching for the right words. “I don’t want to be alone.”

Max’s heart twisted in his chest. He could’ve said something else—told her it was fine, that she should rest, or something like that. But he was done with pretending he didn’t want to be close to her, to feel her next to him.

“Alright,” he muttered, standing up. “But, uh... let me put on a shirt.”

Her eyes widened slightly, and he could’ve sworn he saw the smallest flicker of a smile on her lips. “Okay,” she whispered, turning her back to give him some space.

He grabbed a random shirt from the pile of clean laundry on the floor, pulling it on over his bare chest, and then slipped under the covers beside her. She had already crawled under the blankets, pulling them tightly around her.

Max settled in beside her, keeping a careful distance at first. But the bed was small, and it didn’t take long for her to inch closer. He could feel her warmth at his side, the soft rise and fall of her chest with each breath, the delicate scent of her hair mixing with the familiar scent of his worn sheets.

The morning light filtered through the thin curtains of the trailer, casting a soft glow across the room. Max slowly woke up, his eyes still heavy with sleep. He shifted slightly, feeling the warmth of her body pressed against his side. Her head rested on his chest, her soft breathing filling the quiet room.

For a moment, Max just stayed still, letting the comfort of her closeness wash over him. His arm had instinctively wrapped around her while they slept, and he could feel the warmth of her skin beneath the thin fabric of his shirt.

But as his body began to wake up fully, so did a familiar discomfort: the pressure of his morning problem, straining against the fabric of his boxers. His breath caught, and he tried to shift subtly, hoping she wouldn’t wake up and notice the situation. She didn’t. She just remained nestled against him, her breath slow and steady.

Max let out a slow breath, trying to ignore the growing tension in his body. He kept his arm around her for a moment longer, relishing the softness of her against him, before reluctantly moving it.

Her movements eventually stirred him from his thoughts, though. He felt her shift and heard her small, quiet sigh as she began to stir. She slowly pushed herself up and away from him, the weight of her head leaving his chest.

Max watched as she stood up, stretching lightly before walking toward the small kitchen area. The simple act of her moving around his trailer felt domestic, a little surreal. He never imagined a girl like her would be here, in his space, making herself at home.

She turned on the old coffee maker and started washing the dishes from the night before, humming softly to herself. Her bare feet moved across the worn linoleum floor as she worked, picking up the plates, scrubbing them clean with a kind of focused determination. Max watched her, a little mesmerised by the way she went about everything with ease. She was so domestic, so... pure.

After a while, she glanced over her shoulder, catching his eye. “I hope you don’t mind,” she said quietly. “I usually make something nice on a Sunday.”

Max shook his head, trying to get his bearings. “I don’t mind at all.” His voice was still rough with sleep. “Thank you.”

She smiled softly and got to work, preparing eggs, toast, and whatever else she could find in his meager supplies. Max sat up, rubbing his eyes. He watched her as she moved, the way her shirt clung to her in all the right places, how she seemed so comfortable here despite how out of place she looked in his world.

Eventually, she finished up with the dishes and turned to him. “I need to get ready for church.” Her eyes softened a little, as though she could sense the hesitation in his. “Can y—“

“I’ll take you. I just don’t have a car right now. It’s in the garage.”

Her eyebrows lifted slightly, and for a moment, Max thought she might protest, but instead, she just nodded. “Okay.”

He took a quick shower and threw on some old jeans and a t-shirt. He didn’t exactly have a wardrobe that screamed “church-going,” but it was the best he could do. He wasn’t there to make a statement anyway—just to get her there and make sure she was safe.

When he stepped out of the small bathroom, he found her already dressed in her Sunday best—yesterday’s shirt and skirt with a cardigan she must have pulled out her bag. Her hair was perfectly styled, like she’d just walked out of a church bulletin. She looked so out of place in his trailer, so polished and pristine compared to the worn, dirty space they were in.

Max grabbed his helmet and walked over to her, holding it out. “Here,” he said, the words laced with a slight smirk. “You’re gonna need this.”

She looked at him curiously but didn’t argue. “You’re serious, aren’t you?”

“Yeah. You’re not walking to church, and you’re definitely not riding behind me without it.” He grinned, clearly enjoying her discomfort.

With a small, reluctant smile, she took the helmet from him, adjusting it over her head, the loose strands of her hair sticking out slightly. Max handed her the extra jacket he had and then motioned to the door. “Let’s get going. I’ll get you there early so no one sees you.”

She nodded, slipping on the jacket and walking toward the door with him. Max grabbed the keys to his bike and headed outside, securing the helmet on her head.

The engine of his old bike roared to life, the sound rattling the air around them. Max felt the familiar rush of adrenaline, the wind in his face as they drove, but his focus wasn’t on the speed or the feel of the bike. It was on her, sitting behind him, her body pressed close to his, the weight of her on his back both grounding and electrifying him.

They took the back roads, keeping a low profile, making sure no one would notice them together. Max didn’t want to bring any attention to her. He didn’t want anyone to see her with him, not yet. She was too pure, too innocent to be caught up in his world.

They arrived just before everyone else, the small church looming in front of them as the sun began to rise. Max parked the bike in the back and cut the engine, then turned to look at her.

“Thanks for coming with me,” she said softly, slipping off the bike.

Max nodded, watching her walk toward the steps of the church, her figure straight and composed. As she walked away from him, he couldn’t help but feel a pang of something—something he couldn’t quite name. It was a mix of jealousy, admiration, and something darker that he didn’t want to acknowledge.

He didn’t know why he stayed in the parking lot. Maybe it was the quiet that clung to the air after the service ended, or maybe it was the feeling of something unfinished between him and her. He waited, watching as the congregation filed out of the church, families chatting, some with smiles on their faces, others with the weight of the week still on their shoulders.

He saw her mother, walking alongside her brother, exchanging a few words with the other churchgoers. But no sign of her. His gaze swept over the parking lot once more, hoping to catch a glimpse of her. Maybe she had stayed behind for a little longer.

Minutes passed, and Max’s unease grew. She hadn’t come out.

Frowning, he swung his leg off the bike and walked toward the church’s front doors. He didn’t know why he felt compelled to check on her, but something in him insisted. The hairs on the back of his neck prickled, as if sensing danger.

Max approached the side of the church, his boots scraping the gravel beneath him. A faint voice reached his ears—just a whisper at first, but then it grew louder, more frantic. It sounded like shouting, distorted by the walls of the building, but it was unmistakably hers.

His heart skipped a beat.

He moved quickly toward the sound, pushing open a side door. The hallway inside was dimly lit, the walls cold and echoing with every step. He followed the noise, barely hearing his own footsteps as he crept closer to the source.

And then he saw them.

She was on the floor, her hands trembling in front of her, her back hunched as though she was trying to make herself as small as possible. Her father was standing over her, his voice a low growl of fury, loud enough to rattle the air between them.

“You’re a dirty slut!” he spat. “You’re going to hell for what you’ve done!”

Max’s blood ran cold, and for a moment, he didn’t think.

With a quick motion, he stepped forward, his voice calm but cold. “I wouldn’t do that if I were you.”

The preacher spun around, his face twisted with rage, recognizing Max.

“Stay out of this, boy,” the preacher growled, his hand still raised in the air.

But before the preacher could make another move, she stood up, her breath ragged, her eyes wide with a mixture of fear and something else—hope? Maybe it was desperation.

Without a second thought, she ran toward Max. She didn’t hesitate, her arms reaching out to him as if he were her only anchor in the storm.

“Max,” she whispered, almost too softly to hear, but Max felt the weight of it all the same.

Max put his hands on her shoulders, turning her so that she was standing slightly behind him. His eyes never left the preacher, his voice steady.

“You know, preacher,” Max began, his voice low and measured, “God loves justice and establishes equity.” He tilted his head slightly, as if recalling something. “Psalm 99:4, right? I’m sure that’s a scripture I heard your daughter read once in Bible study. Can’t be exerting your authority in such ways, can you?”

The preacher’s face went red with anger, his hands balling into fists. “Get out of here, boy. This is none of your business.”

Max didn’t flinch. “You’re right,” he said calmly. “It’s none of my business. But I’ll make sure it’s yours.”

He motioned to her. “Go wait by the bike.” His voice softened just for her, the harshness fading away. “Go on, I’ll be right there.”

She hesitated for just a moment, looking at him like she wanted to say something, but instead, she turned and walked quickly toward the door. Max watched her go, his heart pounding in his chest.

The preacher made a move to stop her, but Max stepped forward, his patience snapping.

“Don’t you ever touch her again,” Max growled.

The preacher lunged at him, but Max was faster, his fist connecting with the preacher’s jaw before he had a chance to land a blow. The sound of the punch echoed in the small hallway, and the preacher staggered backward, his hands gripping the edge of the wall for support.

Max stepped forward, his voice cold. “I don’t care who you think you are. You put your hands on her again, and I’ll make sure you regret it.”

The preacher was on his knees now, his face a mixture of shock and fury. Max didn’t wait to hear more. He turned on his heel, walking out the door to find her standing by his bike, waiting as if she hadn’t just been on the receiving end of a storm.

He nodded to her, not saying anything more, his mind racing with the anger he’d just unleashed. But all he wanted now was to get her away from here, away from him.

“Let’s go,” he said softly, handing her the helmet.

She didn’t say anything as she put it on, but the silent understanding between them spoke volumes. Max revved the engine, feeling the rush of power beneath him as he led her away from the church, away from the hell that had just erupted there.

The ride back to the trailer was eerily quiet. Max could feel the tension in the air between them, thick and heavy, the weight of everything that had just happened hanging between them. She sat behind him, her grip tight on his waist, but there was no laughter, no playful banter like there had been before. It felt like the world had shifted somehow, and the silence stretched endlessly as they rode.

Max didn’t glance back at her. He kept his eyes straight ahead, focusing on the road, but all he could think about was what he’d just done. He knew he’d put himself in danger, confronting her father like that. He didn’t care. But for the first time, he couldn’t ignore the burning question: What did he really think he was doing?

The only sound on the road was the roar of the engine beneath them, a constant reminder of the distance they had yet to travel. Every twist and turn of the road seemed to reflect the turmoil inside of him, but he had no words for it, no way to express the chaos in his head.

When they finally pulled into the trailer park, the sun was low in the sky, casting long shadows across the worn pavement. Max parked the bike and cut the engine, the sudden silence of the world around them making the tension between them all the more palpable.

They didn’t speak as they walked inside, the door creaking as it opened into the small, dimly lit space. Max stepped aside to let her enter first, but the moment the door closed behind them, she removed the helmet and her composure seemed to crumble.

She stood there for a long moment, just breathing, as if she was trying to collect herself, but it was clear she wasn’t okay. Max watched her, his heart tightening when he saw the tears beginning to well in her eyes. She couldn’t hold it back anymore.

Before he could say anything, she collapsed into him. Her body shook as she buried her face against his chest, her sobs muffled against his shirt. Max’s arms instinctively wrapped around her, pulling her in close, his own breath shaky from the unexpected surge of emotion he felt at seeing her so broken.

“It’s okay,” he whispered softly, his voice a soothing murmur. “I’ve got you, shhh.”

She didn’t respond, just continued to cry, the sound raw and heartbreaking. Max gently ran his hand down her back, trying to comfort her in the only way he knew how. He wiped the tears off her face with his thumb, brushing her hair back from her forehead. His chest tightened with every sob that wracked her body, every quiet sob that he couldn’t take away.

“Don’t cry,” he said quietly, though his words felt powerless against the pain she was clearly feeling. “I won’t let anything happen to you. I swear it, sweetheart.”

She pulled away slightly, her tear-streaked face making his chest ache even more. Her eyes were wide and vulnerable, a rawness that shook him to his core. She didn’t say anything; she didn’t need to. He could see everything in her expression, the hurt and confusion and fear.

Without a word, Max guided her to the small bed in the corner of the trailer, not sure what else to do. He wanted to fix everything, to make her feel safe, but he knew that wasn’t something he could do with words alone.

They sat on the edge of the bed, and she let him help her lie down. He crawled in next to her, his arm draping over her shoulders as she curled up against him. The space felt small, but it was warm. She was warm.

Max didn’t say anything as he laid beside her, his chest rising and falling with every breath he took. He just held her. The silence between them was heavy, but it wasn’t uncomfortable. It was quiet, like the calm after the storm, both of them lost in the stillness of the moment.

Her breathing eventually slowed, her sobs quieter now, though her body still trembled slightly from the emotions that had flooded her. Max stayed close, not letting go. His fingers gently traced the outline of her arm as he held her close, not knowing exactly what to say to make it better, but knowing that being there, holding her, was enough—for now.

“I’m here,” he whispered again, his voice soft and unwavering, as he placed a soft kiss to her forehead. “I won’t let anyone hurt you. Not anymore.”

Then a weird thought came to Max as he watched hee sleep in his arms.

She’d prayed for his peace.

And while he wasn’t a believer.

He sure as hell felt at peace.

part two out now!

[foodfightnovelization]

More Foodfight! Material DISCOVERED

That's right, I'm back. Just like I prophesized in my last post, yet another treasure trove of Foodfight! goodness has been uncovered, and this might be one of the strangest to date...that's right, official Foodfight! Cinnamon Sleuth Cereal was sold at Albertsons back in 2007, over five years before the movie finally came out!

Okay, not really, but I had you going for a second, right? So, this IS a proposed packaging design for actual Cinnamon Sleuth cereal, but it never went into production, it never made it to stores and there was certainly never any actual cereal to be eaten. This, among several other designs and a collection of behind the scenes material, was sent in recently by a Foodfight! crewmember, who explained they were mockups created to show off possible tie-in products. I'm not sure why they chose Albertsons for these mockups but it's likely they were in talks with them at the time and wanted to show off designs including their branding. In any case, I just had the Cinnamon Sleuth box printed because I thought it'd look cool next to my collection of Foodfight! merchandise, and I wanted to see if anyone would be convinced this really existed.

I've included all the designs above in case you want to print your own- there are several more including another cereal, brownie packaging and milk cartons. Curiously, the milk cartons have Farmland Dairy logos on them, with Farmland Milk actually appearing in the finished film at several points. I'd say this confirms my theory these mockups were created to show to companies they were already actively working on deals with, but I can't say for certain that was the case.

Equally curious are these character sheets from 2002, seemingly showing off almost every model created during early production. There are so many fascinating layers to this- Sunshine is still a human instead of a catgirl, showcasing a very different model to the one seen in the initial trailer, and Maximilius Moose is still a dog named Panzer Pup, both aspects that were changed once the decision was made to change Dex to a dog. However, it may be that Dex's human design was edited out and replaced after the fact, given Dex's model here appears to be the one from the finished film (you can tell by the weird hands). In any case, it's fascinating to get a closer look at all these characters- while the majority of the models for the main cast were found recently (see my last post for more on this), there are a bunch of side characters here we've only seen brief glimpses of before, including the Pringles man and the scantily-clad Cherry Waifer. The most fascinating to me however are the Red and Yellow M&Ms- I've read through their scene in the movie's script, I've seen multiple versions of the storyboard, even rough layout animation in the workprint, and it's only now I'm FINALLY getting to see their actual character models and how they would've looked in the Foodfight! artstyle. Sure, they more or less look exactly as they did in M&M commercials that aired around the same time, but it's still amazing to actually see these characters modelled and rendered after analyzing so many different iterations of the scene as it went through development.

The crewmember in question also sent a folder containing over a hundred stills which while at first glance appear to be from the finished movie, are actually subtly different in multiple ways- usually lighting, facial expressions, or background textures like the sky or color of a hill. A lot of these are labelled "fix" which makes me speculate if after the movie was completed, the crew went back and tried to touch up the animation to make it look more appealing before release. Is there a slightly better looking version of Foodfight! somewhere out there in the world? Who knows, but really it would've been like trying to polish a turd. The movie was already ruined by then, and I don't think any number small changes would've done much to salvage it. However, that does bring me to my next interesting point...

There are also storyboards dated May 2011, depicting an alternate opening to the movie giving a much more cinematic introduction to the main characters. It's crazy to think they were still working on storyboards so late in production, but there IS actually a reason for this. I unfortunately can't upload the entire sequence due to this site's image limit, but what you might notice are a lot of characters being described as "flying over the audience", "flying into the camera" or knocking things "into the audience", with some of the boards having "(3D)" written in parenthesis next to them. It's my belief that very late into production, Kasanoff wanted the movie to be 3D, made popular by the then-recent Avatar, and this new opening sequence full of flashy 3D effects was drawn up to show off what they could do with the technology. It's not clear if any of this was ever actually animated, but imagine going to see a movie that advertises itself as 3D but only the first minute contains any 3D elements. Of course, Kasanoff requesting this is only speculation on my part, but given how the movie was ruined by the crew having to cater to his whim of directing the whole thing with motion capture (made popular by the then-recent Polar Express) it's no stretch to assume the 3D opening sequence was a similar situation.

There's a ton more that was sent to us as well, so much so that I could never hope to talk about all of it. However, it should be on archive.org at the time of writing this if it isn't already, and you can now access everything Foodfight! related through the official Foodfight! collection on there!

That's right, so much Foodfight! material has been uploaded over the past year that the Internet Archive gave it its own archive, allowing you to find everything in one convenient place (including my scans of the novelization and Deluxe Sound Storybook). It'll also be updated periodically whenever something new is found, so it'll always be the home to all things Foodfight!. Whether you're wanting to take a look at some concept art shown in ROTTEN: Behind The Foodfight, read through an early draft of the script, or check out something I've talked about on my blog, it's all here at your fingertips.

I don't think there's ever really going to be an end to the depth of the Foodfight! rabbithole. I thought I was done a year ago when I finished analyzing the novelization, and look at everything that's been found since then. Every time I think I'm out, this movie pulls me back in. So...in my next post I'll FINALLY show off my collection of Foodfight! merchandise and talk about what this movie means to me, but that doesn't mean it's the end for this blog. Whenever I say I'm done with Foodfight! I end up jinxing it, so if I try to conclude things now in a few months some CD will show up with a bunch of lost footage on it, I'll get mailed concept art of a bunch of characters we've never seen before, or it'll turn out Larry Kasanoff was actually D.B. Cooper the whole time. So as long as there's something new to discuss, as long as there's a Foodfight to be fought, I'll keep updating this blog from now until forever. You better duck when they launch the cream pies!

[wynnyfryd]

Trailer park Steve AU part 39

part 1 | part 38 | ao3

Eight hours, four pizzas, and one — yes, one, Henderson, Jesus — job-well-done beer each later, Steve waves the kids out the door and promptly collapses facedown on his shiny new vinyl flooring.

"God," he groans, rolling his forehead on the floor.

Eddie's not much better off. He's slumped against the front door, bracing his weight with one hand, head hung low between his shoulders. His hair's all frizzed out with sweat, and Steve can hear his soft panting over the hum of the radio. "Yeah," he says in breathless agreement. "Fatherhood is exhausting."

Steve snorts a quiet laugh. "Welcome to the babysitters club."

"Not even getting paid for this shit," Eddie complains, but Steve can see the smile tugging at his mouth when he steps over him. "I'm gonna grab a shower. That okay?"

"Go ahead," Steve mumbles, eyelids heavy as he waves Eddie down the hall. "Towels are in the closet. Borrow whatever you want."

His limbs feel like lead. Shoulders throbbing; headache worse. He's also... maybe, possibly having some major regrets about moving all the couches out onto the front lawn along with the rolled-up carpet earlier (a fact he'd sooner eat his own shirt than admit to Eddie, because Eddie warned him not to do it; told him he was going to be too tired after installing the floors to bring them all back inside, and Steve had shrugged him off at the time because Steve's an overconfident dipshit.) Anyway, he's pretty sure the spasm in his spine is price enough to pay for not listening. He's not about to put up with Eddie's gloating, too.

Eddie pauses in the hallway, rings tapping against the wall, smug little bastard look on his face. "You doin' okay down there, champ?"

It's a serious effort to raise his arm to flip him the bird, but Steve manages.

—

"Hey, sunshine."

Eddie's voice is gentle as Steve blinks himself awake, neck cracking horribly, little puddle of drool under his chin. He's not sure when he drifted off. The last thing he remembers is nuzzling his cheek against the floor, feeling the weirdly papery material slide against his stubble; thinking about how it was cheap and it was tacky but it was new and it was his. How it felt like as good of a fresh start as anyone in Forrest Hills was going to get.

"How long was I out for?" he groans, rolling onto his back to stretch out his stiff limbs.

Long enough, apparently. Eddie got a whole pillow fort situation sorted out while Steve was snoozing — dragged all the pillows and blankets off Steve's bed and arranged them in a pile in the middle of the empty room, pulled a side table and lamp over from the corner, gathered up the radio and the last box of leftover pizza and his black lunchbox and a couple of beers to share.

He's also freshly showered and wearing Steve's pajamas. Looks clean and warm and soft; borrowed Hawkins High green sweats, a thin, white undershirt, the shoulders damp where his hair hangs in pretty wet waves.

Steve is so, so normal about the picture Eddie paints.

So normal.

Not at all popping a boner over a guy in ratty loungewear.

Steve crosses his legs — subtly, left ankle to right knee, but Eddie gives him a knowing smirk over the lip of his beer bottle anyway.

"Shut up," Steve blushes.

"Did I speak?" Eddie asks.

—

part 40

tag list in separate reblogs under '#trailer park steve au taglist' if you'd like to filter that content. if you want to be added tomorrow please comment and let me know (must be over 21; please either verify in the comment or have your age visible on your blog)

[felassan]

Rook's Coffer.

The rest of this post is under a cut due to length.

[link]

There is a lot of interesting stuff in here. 👁️

A coffer is a strongbox or small chest for holding valuables. The contents of the box is described as being Rook's "personal effects", the "tools of [their] resistance" (against the Evil Gods).

The Light-Up Lyrium Dagger

This is the dagger replica that BioWare had on display at their SDCC booth in a case. at the time we wondered if it glows (yes!) and whether it would be a merch item in the Gear Store or part of a collector's edition or something, and here we are. :D the name of the item confirms the idea that it's blue because blue lyrium (I wondered this here). the description on the Gear Store of the item reads:

"Its blade has torn the very fabric of the Veil."

and ~8 months ago I wrote,

"since we saw this image from the 2022 in-game cinematic and speculated that 1. this image shows Solas doing something to the Veil, and 2. the item he’s holding is the red lyrium idol in its ritual-blade form, what it’s reminded me of is the Subtle Knife from HDM (Pullman). Æsahættr cuts windows in the fabric between worlds; I wonder if the idol’s power as a magical ritual-blade is the ability to ‘cut’ through the 'fabric’ of the Veil (of reality), thereby tearing open the barrier that has been separating the two realms."

Cloth Map and Quiver

"Look to this illustrated map to learn about the world you defend."

First let's do the quiver. :>

A quiver to keep a map in is such a cute idea. going by the triangles, it's a replica of the quiver rogue Rooks store their arrows in in the game. ^^

Now the map.

Starting at the bottom right, where it all began~. Ferelden is depicted as a mabari (a symbol of Fereldan royalty), complete with kaddis. You can see the Brecilian Forest and the Imperial Highway snaking round Lake Calenhad. In the Frostback Mountains is the Inquisition’s hairy eyeball symbol, fittingly as that’s where Skyhold is located. North of the Arbor Wilds are the Dales, containing Dalish aravels. Orlais is portrayed as a reclining lion (the symbol of House Valmont is a lion). West and south of the lion are the Nahashin Marshes, the Abyssal Reach and the Tirashan. Across the sea from Ferelden is the landmark of Kirkwall, the Twins of Kirkwall (statues).

The north of the map is the most 👁️ tho, as DA:TV seems to be predominantly set in locales across northern Thedas. That part of the map has a lot of elements from the misted-out northern Thedas map from the Thedas Calls teaser trailer, only.. unmisted. :D we can see the Antivan city of Treviso with its spires and the Antivan Crows flying around Antiva. We can see the giant squid curling over Rivain, this time on a bed of treasure like gold and silver. West of the White Spire mountain is Arlathan Forest, with another aravel, ruins of the city of Arlathan, and floating rocks and floating ruins. in the sea south of Par Vollen is a Qunari dreadnought.

Tevinter is separated from Antiva by the Hundred Pillars. the way they look in this map, they remind me of Drumheller Alberta, where Mark Darrah once mentioned that DA:TV devs went to capture reference material for the game. in this post I wrote of the Tevinter coast that "much of the center is entangled in tentacle-like or snake-like tendrils". in this new map we can clearly see that they are snakes. makes sense, Tevinter is a nest of vipers metaphorically and snakes are part of Tevinter iconography. We can see the city of Minrathous and my all-time favorite guy, Floating Building. Weisshaupt is represented by a griffon and for the Anderfels we have  Our Lady of the Anderfels (the statue of Andraste). to the north, Tallo's Eye and the Donarks.

This part of the map is potentially super exciting:

This is a dwarven statue underground in the Deep. the location suggests this is representing Kal-Sharok south of the Anderfels (this is not anywhere near Orzammar, and Orzammar isn't represented on the map by a drawing either). omggg. I really hope we visit Kal-Sharok in this game oh shttt

In the center of the map is Nevarra and the Silent Plains. this map depicts the Silent Plains and surrounds as being full of the ancient bones of giant creatures and giant skeletons. that's 👀 since we saw giant skeletons in Nevarra in the new trailer. we can also see the Grand Necropolis with its eerie green glow as its reaches go down into the ground. it's attended by two [giant?] necromanced skeletons. the gold doodads on their heads remind me of the skeletons we've seen Emmrich necromancing.

There don't appear to be any depictions or landmarks shown in Seheron or Par Vollen. :< and in this last bit of the map it's a bit hard to tell due to poorer image quality that this section of the map is shown in, but east of Rivain is the map compass and south of Rivain, south of Llomerynn, in the whirlpool.. is that an island with an eluvian on it? maybe this represents the Lighthouse and the pocket dimension it exists in? watery Fade imagery and all that.

(Thedas Calls trailer map images below for reference. you can see that 'landmarks' from in that trailer are on this new map)

(^ ignore the yellow lines in the Rivain squid cap ^^;)

Rook's Card Deck

"A set of cards depicting people and places from Rook's adventures."

Like the map, there's a lot in these too. first of all the art looks so beautiful and I'm psyched that cards/card-style art is returning in DA:TV, the tarot card art in DA:I was so cool and gave so much inspiration to the DA art community! some of the art is familiar to us, some is totally new.

in this last image we can see that among the cards is the art for the Solas print that came with the BioWare Gear Store exclusive variant of the artbook. the design for the back of the cards is similar to the box for Rook's coffer. for the others I think I'm going to identify them with letters so it makes talking about them easier. ^^ (image without key is above). 26 x 2 = looks like there are 52 cards total, if this image contains the whole set. (if I've mixed up any of my numbers or letters in the below, pls lmk so I can correct it!)

please keep in mind that these are just guesses for fun. [thanku to mime who helped me guess what each card could be :D]

A - Venatori? red like red lyrium and they're always messing with it, diamond shape like their new symbol (two), cult-like vibe, mage robe-vibe. the pointy hoods remind me of the figure in the background of Neve's card. (given the shape in the background, is Elgar'nan messing with them or are they working for him? they could be without knowing he's an elf) B - dragons, dragon fights? (looks like a giant toothy dragon maw bearing down on a party) C - F qunari Rook? (like how there was a card for M and F of each lineage Inquisitor in DA:I. F qunari Inky for comparison) D - Harding companion card art from the Dragon Age website E - Veil Jumpers? gold, triangles, antler/halla-horn type pattern, looks like the person has a glowing gadget F - Grey Wardens? silver plate armor, Joining Chalice, shield with griffon wings on it G - Rogue Rook/rogue class (like there was a class card for each class for Inky in DA:I. Rogue inky) H - one gender of elf Rook? (like how there was a card for M and F of each lineage Inquisitor in DA:I. elf Inky cards for comparison) I - Arlathan Forest? it looks like it has ruins and floating rocks J - 'Fen'Harel' Solas from the in-game cinematic that we saw in this trailer K - Neve companion card art from the Dragon Age website L - Weisshaupt in the Anderfels (see this concept) M - Warrior Rook/warrior class (like there was a class card for each class for Inky in DA:I. Warrior inky) N - M qunari Rook? (like how there was a card for M and F of each lineage Inquisitor in DA:I. M qunari Inky for comparison) O - undead, giant green glow skeletons? P - ? Q - Minrathous R - Lords of Fortune? they have Taash vibes. blue sea in the background, gold trinkets at their waist, swashbuckling vibe S - ? T - Emmrich companion card art from the Dragon Age website U - another gender of elf Rook? (like how there was a card for M and F of each lineage Inquisitor in DA:I. elf Inky cards for comparison) V - red lyrium darkspawn W - M dwarf Rook? (like how there was a card for M and F of each lineage Inquisitor in DA:I. M dwarf Inky for comparison) X - Bellara companion card art from the Dragon Age website Y - Elgar'nan from back in the day before being Blighted? bald like ancient elves sometimes are shown, maybe the orb is his foci. Z - ? not sure, but something bad and maybe red lyrium-related. also blood and maybe an eluvian in the background

[block character limit text break!]

1 - Ghilan'nain from back in the day before being Blighted? creepy tentacle-vibe hair. 2 - Mortalitasi / Mournwatch 3 - ? not sure, but something bad and maybe red lyrium-related 4 - 'Humble apostate Solas' from the in-game cinematic that we saw in this trailer 5 - Blue lyrium dagger 6 - Red lyrium dagger 7 - Davrin companion card art from the Dragon Age website 8 - Taash companion card art from the Dragon Age website 9 - Grand Necropolis. undead city vibes, the eerie green glow 10 - part of this concept art posted on Halloween in 2021. (I think this may be somewhere in the Anderfels/Weisshaupt surrounds after something bad has happened. those creatures are red lyrium-afflicted darkspawn. the location has the same dark/night-time corrupted/Blighted vibe as here, complete with Blightsacs and red lyrium darkspawn. the bad dark Blighted ruined vibe is also like here from the Thedas Calls teaser, where if you zoom in there's some red in the image. when this image was shown in Thedas Calls, it was the segment about Weisshaupt and the Wardens. in the release date reveal teaser, we see a shot of the Anderfels in the day-time without Blight/before anything bad has happened. it looks nice and is a beautiful view. you can tell that is the same place as here because of the presence of the posts with the basketball hoops on top of them. lastly, in the companions reveal trailer, Davrin is shown fighting red lyrium darkspawn in the dark/night-time corrupted looking area, and in the background is a statue of a griffon. 11 - ? not sure, but something bad and maybe red lyrium-related 12 - this Solas art from the Gear Store artbook exclusive variant pack 13 - Treviso in Antiva (see images here) 14 - Elgar'nan? curving horn shape, eclipse 15 - demons? or Elgar'nan and Ghil in their prison together? 16 - Qunari, as in from the group that have been invading/occupying? 17 - mage Rook/mage class (like there was a class card for each class for Inky in DA:I. mage inky) 18 - The Dread Wolf? or the Dread.. wolves. there are 2 wolves in this. Two Wolf Moon 19 - Lucanis companion card art from the Dragon Age website 20 - F dwarf Rook? (like how there was a card for M and F of each lineage Inquisitor in DA:I. F dwarf Inky for comparison) 21 - the Deep Roads (concept art for comparison) 22 - ? but they are this figure from the full cover art of the regular edition of the artbook 23 - Ghilan'nain? horrible centipede creature, suggestion of Ghil's head-shape, suggestion of hands and faces 24 - feather. griffon feather? to represent Assan? 25 - Rivain. boats, sea 26 - Antivan Crows

I feel like I've made mistakes or missed something though because if there's a card for each faction, where is the Shadow Dragons? and if there's an M and an F card for each lineage Rook, where are the human Rooks? I'll revisit the cards and my list again sometime with fresh eyes. :D

One thing I wanted to highlight at the end of the section on the cards is the blue lyrium and red lyrium dagger[s].

Above we talked about how the item name Lyrium Dagger confirms the idea that the dagger is blue because blue lyrium (I wondered that here). in the same post I wondered about the other dagger that we first saw on the deluxe artbook cover:

"This artbook cover one is more gnarled in appearance and the 'ring’ of the handle isn’t complete. It has extra spiky bits protruding off it too and it looks like something is growing on it. Maybe this is what happens if/when the blue [lyrium?] dagger becomes red (Blighted)? because this gnarled kinda vibe reminds me a bit of Meredith’s sword Certainty in DA2, and of that body horror way in which red lyrium growth looks on people. It also reminds me of the tendrils of Blight corruption on walls and the ground and stuff in DA:TV screenshots, and the gnarled red lyrium darkspawn we’ve seen (look at this darkspawn’s back for example). Or maybe there’s simply more than one dagger?"

and here we are. 👀 the blue lyrium dagger Blighted to red lyrium, or else there's a red lyrium dagger out there too somewhere.

Enchanted Die

"This beautiful die will help guide you through the perils of conversation."

The Gear Store description for this item makes perfect sense as the symbols on the dice are the dialogue wheel icons. :D here we can see Romance, Anxious, Sad, Warrior, Investigate, Mad, Stoic and others. also I love the iconic purple-theme color of the dice. :)

Glass Potion Flask

"A decorative vessel that would be essential for storing healing potions."

I have no comments on this really other than it's pretty and that I think it resembles the design of healing potion bottles in the game. :)

Dragon Age™: The Veilguard Companion Lithograph

"This art depicts the faces of your closest allies, the ones who'll stand beside you against impossible odds."

This features the companion art pieces from here.

Thank-You Letter

"A note of gratitude from the creatives at the helm of Dragon Age™: The Veilguard. (From game director Corinne Busche and creative director John Epler)"

and this is a lovely and thoughtful idea 🥺 .. maybe it's the inscription inside the box with the Veilguard symbol?

Lastly there's the box!

It's pretty and is in the same style as the UI on e.g. the skill trees. it looks like there's a square with each companion round the outside, plus a square for Manfred, Assan, and Varric. the gang's all here. :D for the 7 companions, their image is from their 'tarot style' art, but for Manfred, Assan and Varric it's art we haven't seen before. around the outside is also each of their weapons, like an arrow for archer Harding and Lucanis' fancy rapier-sword. I guess in the middle the helmet represents Rook. (it gives me Warden vibes. maybe it's a version of the helmet Rook wears here?).

As a last thought, with the items being Rook's "personal effects", the "tools of [their] resistance", I really love the idea that they have a deck of playing cards and a dice/enchanted dice. I know these are common fantasy world items but idk it's giving a lil, Remy LeBeau. I dunno, Rook somehow has a rogueish kinda vibe to me (as in the trait, not the class). Varric describes them as clever and adaptable, words you might apply to a trickster. "You don't know when to quit" implies a certain incorrigibility. rooks are corvids which have trickster lore irl, and characters that play games with cards and roll dice often have that smart, rogueish, trickster kind of edge in tropes and stuff. it works in my brain in different scenarios too, like if Rook is a foil to Solas, or someone advised by Solas (trickster-mini trickster mentee), or someone opposed to Solas (takes a trickster to outwit a trickster), and/or someone who is in some kind of a way a sorta successor[?] to Solas in terms of story role or repeating history or foils again etc (if you remember the line "They call me the Dread Wolf. What will they call you when this is over?"). you know, like think about what is said about Fen'Harel today and was said about him immediately after the fall (elven voices in Vir Dirthara in Trespasser). what will they say about Rook when this is over? hope that paragraph made sense :D

[hopeluna]

𖦹 ׂ 𓈒 ⋆ ۪ — 𝑇𝐻𝐸 𝐵𝑂𝑌 𝐼𝑆 𝑀𝐼𝑁𝐸 (𝒉𝒐𝒑𝒆'𝒔 𝒗𝒆𝒓𝒔𝒊𝒐𝒏)

✘ Part of the writing event by @carolmunson ! You can find the prompts n dialogue here, pls feel free to join in and write your own version <3

✘ the scene: a romantic night-in at the trailer. 

✘ CW: eddie munsson x fem!reader, very much rom com vibes cause come on it's me, first time writing for eddie pray for me, was tryna do fluff but turned into hurt/comfort, mentions of financial insecurity, eddie being the best bf material out there. 1k

The trailer door creaks on it's hinges like it's going to fall off any moment. It hardly registers in Eddie's brain, pulling the door more forcefully open with a beaming grin to let you in.

He's practically vibrating from the pent up anticipation. It's been a few days since you both have properly spent any time with each other. Between you being busy with college and him playing to a steadily growing crowd at The Hideout, the past few days consisted only of short kisses and exchanging i love you's in passing.

Eddie didn't really wanna pester you much either. Even though he missed you these days like a starved man, the relationship was fairly new and blooming and he didn't have the heart to somehow accidentally mess it up right from the get go.

"What brings you to the freak's humble abode, my fair lady?"

He gives you a toothy grin when he sees you telling him to silently shut up. You weren't a huge fan of the 'freak' title. "I come with gifts!", you hold up the small pastel paper box like a medal.

Eddie lets out a low whistle, with a whisper of 'gimme', making animated grabby hands till you place the box delicately in his outstretched hands. He immediately digs in with hurried but careful hands, cautious to not damage the paper cause he knows you probably took hours to get it just right.

A soft smile pulls his lips up at the small pastries. It looks absolutely delectable. Whispy vanilla frosting coated all over the soft sponge, the scent of vanilla bean hitting his nose, little flecks of edible glitter and sprinkles all tied with a plump strawberry at the top.

"You made these?"

"Mhm! We did chocolate last week and red velvet the week before that, so I thought we could go for a classic vanil-"

Giggles fill the quiet space of the trailer, Eddie placing light, ticklish kisses all over your lips. His grin only stretches more when you shriek his name to let you go, "if you don't stop, we're gonna have a problem!"

"Oh yeah, sweetheart? And what is that problem?"

"I will-" you push Eddie away enough so that only your noses are touching "- revoke your kiss license." You let out a soft snort at your boyfriend's devastated expression.

"You wouldn't!"

"I would, baby."

Eddie's huffing away with a quiet 'meanie' as you shake your head fondly at him, nudging him silently to open the pastries. He carefully sets two out, putting the others in the freezer for Wayne when you come back from the kitchen with two chipped mugs. Eddie's heart falls a little at the thought of you maybe judging him for this.

"Eddie."

"Mhm?"

You roll your eyes with a smile, "don't just stand there, open the damn thing!" You nudge the poorly made cat themed mug in his hands- his favourite. You watch with wrung fingers as he practically balances more than half the dessert on the fork to shove in his mouth, leaving flecks of whipped cream and frosting on the corners of his mouth.

"It's so....sweet."

You wince without meaning to, "and you like that?"

Eddie lets out a amused laugh at your anxiety ridden face. "Baby, that's probably the second best damn thing i've tasted." He shines a gleaming smile on you at your own grin of accomplishment.

"What's the first?"

"You." Eddie's loud laugh fills the silence at your disgusted but flustered expression.

His face falters a little when you shove the throw pillow on the couch behind you to get comfortable. Eyes follow your hands as you tighten your grip on your own mug, the handle chipped away from wear. Eddie's gaze flits around the trailer- the old video player, the less than impressive flooring, the comfy but worn out looking blanket that you've draped over yourself. It's definitely not the white picket fenced dream most want. He feels comfortable here but do you? Maybe you sometimes wished to hang out somewhere els-

"Hey."

Eddie snaps his gaze over to you, expression nervous and concerned. "Um- yeah." Clearing his throat, he shifts a little forward to pick his notebook from the table, mindlessly going through it in an effort to seem busy.

"I-uh, i ran out of like, nice cups,-" he briefly gestures to the one in your hand, "-is that okay?"

He would've found your furrowed, confused expression cute if it wasn't for the small ball of anxiety etched in his throat. "Yeah- i mean, of course it's okay." You look back at the cup in your hand, then to him and back at the cup again. "Are you okay?"

The curls on his head seem to bounce a bit as he nods frantically, twisting the cover of the notebook in his hand "it's just, you know, that thing isn't the nicest " he gestures vaguely with his hand around you, "i mean-none of this is-"

"Eddie."

"The place isn't the most romant-"

"Eddie." His eyes go from looking around in the trailer to you, you who inched closer to him without him realizing. "I like- I love the trailer."

"But-"

"No, don't be like that. That's not even true. Just because it's not a house with a big front yard and white roofs doesn't mean it's nothing. It's home." You smile as Eddie's eyes widen almost unnoticeably as you cup his face in your hands.

"It's home because it has you in it. And I wouldn't change that for anything."

A breathy chuckle escapes you, Eddie now burying his face in your chest with arms snaked around your waist firmly. His voice is muffled against your shirt that you have to strain to hear what he says, "sometimes, I feel like you being my girlfriend is a very detailed fever dream."

You feel his smile against you as you press a kiss on the top of his head. The silence stretches for a while before you break it, fingers making mindless circles on his back.

"I also come here for the trailer park cats."

The gasp Eddie lets out, finally releasing you from his hold, makes it hard for you to not burst out ugly laughing.

"You would choose the cats over me?!"

"Maybe."

© hopeluna. Do not copy, translate, modify or repost any of my work in this or any other site. Do not steal or modify my ideas/concepts either.

[kenzan-kiwami]

the guy who sparked this rant left the discord server we were both in "by accident" like how do you even do that. i don't think, in all of my eight years on discord, that i've ever seen someone accidentally leave a server

sick of the type of yakuza fan who parrots "ishin kiwami bad" every time someone mentions having fun with it

[bettyfrommars]

Death Becomes Us

a True Blood au

vampire!eddie x supernatural!reader

Part 7: Cry Little Sister

masterlist playlist

It's been over 2 months since you had more than a glimpse of Eddie, but you had the feeling that he never let you get too far out of his peripheral vision. Some vampires you've never met before come looking for him while you are trying to housetrain your new companion. Just as you're about to have some quality time with Eddie, another visitor shows up.

word count: 4.4k

18+only for mature themes, vampires, mention of illegal drugs, a demobat, allusions to smut, angst, werewolves, ode to The Lost Boys

authors note: this is a shorter chapter, and there is not a ton of action like in the other parts, but I will make up for that next time.

I had a few names I was considering for our new companion, and decided to go with Bela, in honor of Bela Lugosi, thanks to @somnambulic-thing

You’d picked up an old, pea green recliner at the thrift store, and that was where you sat in the morning by the lamp to drink coffee and read as much as you could about demobats. 

There wasn’t much known about them, but you had gone to Robin at the bookstore with your search, and she found an obscure issue from a dead publication and ordered it. You told her it was purely to satiate your curiosity after you’d witnessed them firsthand on your way to Sacrament. You didn’t know if it was good sense, or even legal, to have one residing in your home, so you decided to keep your new friend a secret for the time being.

Days turned into weeks since you'd last interacted with Eddie, but you kept track of when he was home and when he wasn’t, as if it was your job. Sometimes, when you were watching TV in your living room with the curtains drawn, you’d catch his kitchen light click on about an hour after dark, and you imagined him walking through in his boxers, yawning, scratching his stomach where the trail of hair from below connected to his bellybutton.

What you didn’t know was that the first part of his waking up ritual was to crack his bedroom curtain and see if you were home. If you weren’t at work, the answer was usually yes, and he’d watch the flicker of your tv in the window reflection.

That morning, you had a black, hooded sweatshirt in your lap, and in the sweatshirt sleeping like a baby, was a demobat. 

You peeled back a bit of the material to take a peek at her face. Her enormous mouth of teeth hung open and her leathery wings twitched like she was in the middle of a dream, your arm straining at the heft of her weight. She didn’t have any eyes, but her sense of hearing was excellent and sometimes, you had to make noise for her to find you, like tapping your knuckle on the wall or countertop.

You didn’t realize she’d followed you from the Upside Down until a good three days later when you came home from work late to find her collapsed on your porch. You imagined she got desperate because she was starving. This wasn’t the same world as hers, and she didn’t know her way around or how to find nourishment. She let you pick her up when you found her, after one long roar to let you know she was dangerous, and then she wrapped her wings around you.

  You were worried that she might go after Eddie’s cat, Dio, or one of the other strays you were feeding at the trailer park, but you were surprised to read in the book that they were not carnivores.

A vegetarian demobat? She especially enjoyed canned mandarin oranges and corn on the cob.  Everything considered, she was docile and attention-starved, for the most part, until she could sense voices a bit too close to the trailer, or the mailman slipped letters in your box, making the metal flap clink shut.

And then she would go berserk, screeching at the top of her lungs, wings outstretched, trying to make herself look as big and threatening as possible.  

“Bela,” you called to her, using the name you’d decided on, inspired by Lugosi.  You clapped a few times, using vibration to get her attention, and she eventually learned to come to you.

Weeks turned into months and there was snow on the ground; a light dusting to accompany the late-November freeze.  You’d only recently caught a glimpse of Eddie in passing, from a distance, or just before he snapped his trailer lights off in the morning to go to sleep.  He stopped by Main Vein a few times  to sit in his regular spot and have a NuBlood, but you had a strong feeling that he was avoiding you.  The second you walked over, he’d either check his pager and act busy, or he’d excuse himself and say he had to run.

He never failed to leave some of his artwork scribbled on a napkin, though, and you were always quick to snatch it and put it in your pocket.

You felt like he was keeping tabs on you, yet keeping his distance, all at once. 

You’d dropped off a carved jack-o-lantern on his porch a few days before Halloween, and the day after that, you were surprised to find an odd butterfly animal made of scrap metal, sitting on your welcome mat.  Your smile cut into your cheeks so hard, a tiny ache throbbed there as you admired the welded legs and haphazard laser cuts on the wings.  

To honor the family memories that were so ancient they were almost dust, you got up on a ladder outside to string some colorful Christmas bulbs, and you put up a tiny tree of the Charlie Brown variety inside.  You had a Bing Crosby album while you decorated.  Mostly, it was a sad attempt, and the other vampires in the lot hated the holiday by definition, so they all gave your place pointed looks over the upturned collars of their jackets.

Bela looked like E.T. between some stuffed animals with silver tinsel on top of her oddly shaped head, hanging down like hair, when there was suddenly some kind of commotion outside.  You strained to listen and swore you heard a loud voice shouting for Eddie.  

The demobat sprang from the couch, flaring her wings wide; she was a blur of holiday delights being thrust away by her sprawl.  A feral sound escaped her that was part howl, part Velociraptor caw.

You jumped up and moved in front of her, so she lowered her wings--which were also used as hands with extremely strong fingers---and hovered behind you in the air.  She finally dropped to the counter and waited with a snarling mouth while you pressed your forehead against the cool of the window to see what was going on.

There appeared to be four boys dressed like 80's rockers in long black coats, and you noticed a motorcycle for each parked just between your two trailers.  They continued to call Eddie’s name, almost taunting now, and two of them hit the trailer with the flat of their hand, trying to get his attention. 

“He’s not home,” you went out onto the porch, shutting Bela inside to shriek to herself in private. You did not know for a fact that he wasn’t home, but there was no car parked in his normal spot, and you sincerely wanted them to go away.

They all turned to you, pale faces stern at first, but then smiles crept across their devilish mouths exposing the points of vampire fangs.  The one with the platinum blonde hair and earring in one ear caged his fingers in front of him and rolled his thumbs over each other as he spoke.

“And, who might you be? He cocked his head, and the others seemed to mirror him, four pairs of eyes sweeping over you.  

The sounds inside the trailer told you that Bela had moved to the far end, possibly the bedroom.  You could hear her shrill cry followed by a thud.  

From your higher vantage on the porch, you told the vampire your name, appraising him down the end of your nose.  “What do you need from Eddie?”

He walked closer, almost to your steps.  “Oh, we’re old friends, just hoping to catch up.”

He was positively enigmatic, in that way only vampires can be, but you had a feeling this guy never had a hard time getting what he wanted even when he was human. There was sarcasm in his tone and, for some reason, the others snickered.  

“Well,” you took a breath and grabbed for the door handle.  “Good luck finding him.”

In a flash, they were all up on the porch, crowding you, making you gasp.  “Not so fast there, princess,” the blonde one grinned.  “Maybe we want to get to know you better.”

You could hear the ticking of the time bomb inside of you, on its final few counts before detonation.  Your heartbeat quickened, and you were sure that they noticed.  You watched them freeze and exchange a few curious glances.

Then, there it was: the inhale, that quick and deliberate sniff of your scent.

The blonde one ran a finger down the scar on your cheek.  “You don’t smell like a human.  Why is that?”

You shrugged away from him.  “Please get off my porch.” 

They were all leering at you, their crooked grins mocking.

You wondered if he was trying to glamour you—to make you do whatever he wanted by hypnotizing you—but he’d soon find out you were impervious to vampire party tricks. 

“Don’t be so hasty, princess,” the main one moved as if he were about to touch you again, his cold breath matching the chill of the air outside.

“Hey, are you bozo’s looking for me?” There came another voice, just below the porch railing.

It was Eddie.  

You stepped back, closer to the front door, face flushing with the heat of relief. 

He was in the typical Eddie uniform of all black, but for the white of the Iron Maiden tee under his leather, and the rips in his jeans where pale, tattooed flesh peeked out. He wore heavy motorcycle boots that were covered in mud, and when his hands flexed into fists at his sides, you saw that the knuckles on one hand were bloody.  You wondered where he’d rushed from the moment he felt your fear.  What sort of car jacking or obligatory beating had he been partaking in when he felt your need?

You never meant to call for him on purpose, but now that he had your blood in him, he could sense any ripple in the force that hinted to your discomfort. 

The look on Eddie’s face when the vampire boys parted, and he finally found your eyes, was a mix of worry and white hot anger.  “Are you okay?”  

You nodded once, that was all you could manage.  You were so glad to see him, and it wasn’t because you worried that the guys on your porch would hurt you.  There was another, more foreign emotion that bathed you in a sense of calm.

Meanwhile, the thudding at the other end of the trailer stopped abruptly. 

“Easy boys,” blondie spread his arms wide to motion for them all to step back.  “Give the lady some room.  We didn’t come here for trouble.”

“What did you come here for, then?” Eddie bit.  His stare was trained on you as the vampires santured down toward him.

You could’ve, or possibly should have, gone inside, and even though you knew Eddie could handle himself, you didn’t feel good about the 4 on 1 odds.  One of the mullet boys had a butterfly knife that he was fidgeting with; opening and closing it with a flick of his wrist while he walked. He had black gloves on, and you wondered if the blade of the weapon was made of silver.

“Just a friendly visit, Munson,” Blondie said. You watched him stop a few feet from your neighbor while the rest circled him like they had with you.  “We were told you had something of interest to us.”

Eddie shot him a look, confused, but maintained his composure. “If it’s Dice you want, I haven’t sold that shit in years.”

Dice: the vampire drug of choice.  

The only drug on the planet designed for vampires to experience the equivalent of a human Benzo.  Highly addictive, and made with a lot of illegal, human-derived ingredients that Eddie preferred not to think about, it was also deadly in large amounts to vampires because of the trace amounts of garlic oil.  

The four guys who looked like they’d just walked out of a heavy metal video exchanged bored expressions. Eddie knew the platinum-haired one fairly well, his name was David, and the shorter one with the butterfly knife was Marko, but he’d never cared to learn the names of the other two.  They lived down at The Caves in a vampire “nest” with a few others, and had only been turned recently, so therefore, were no match for Eddie’s strength. Still, they were cocky as hell and always looking for trouble, as most young ones were. 

Eddie chanced a glance at you, hoping maybe you’d gone inside by then, but also, he liked having you where he could see you. He looked over his shoulder to get an idea of how many other residents were lurking around.  

“We should probably talk business inside my trailer,” Eddie inclined his head.  “Too many ears out here.”

“If you don’t have it,” David lowered his voice and tilted his head.  “I bet you know where we can get it.”

Sure, Eddie knew one guy in town who had it, but there was no way he’d send those creeps over to Reefer Rick’s place.  His long time friend was still human, and he didn’t trust the irrational hunger he saw in their pinned pupils.

“There’s only one person I know for sure would have some and that’s Jareth,” Eddie lied.

The other three guys mumbled to each other behind David, but then David shushed them with a hiss and flap of his hand.  

Eddie knew that would shut them up pretty quick.  No one could just stroll into Sacrament and ask Jareth for drugs.  Also, Jareth never wanted money in return, he always wanted services for “favors”, and they were always tasks that would make any normal person, vampire or otherwise,  have a hard time looking at themselves in the mirror afterwards.  

David began to back up, toward his motorcycle. “Alright well, this was a pleasure,” his gaze lingered on you and he gave a slow, generous lick of his lips.  “I really hope we bump into each other again sometime.”

Eddie couldn’t help the death stare he was giving him, grinding his back teeth so hard, the muscles in his jaw bulged.  He hated that they knew where you lived, he hated that they had been so close to you, to know that you were different.

The motorcycles began to start up, headlights snapping on to blare right into your eyes, making you blink away.  

The rest of their motors idled until David took off first, tires making tracks in the thin blanket of white over the ground, and then the rest followed onto the gravel road before blasting onto the highway, howling to each other like wolves as they went.

“You sure you’re okay?” Eddie was up on the porch with you as fast as if he had teleported.

The sudden jolt of his new proximity knocked the wind out of you; you still weren’t used to the lightning speed at which they could move.

“Could you please not do that anymore,” you clutched your throat. “Maybe just walk up the steps like a regular person?”

Leaning back against the railing, he grinned.  “My bad,” he mumbled, playing with the chunky ring on his middle finger.  

The truth was, he’d been going crazy trying to get you off of his mind.  Ever since he took you to the Upside Down, he’d been wrestling with some serious demons and trying not to think of  you in a sexual way, but his efforts were fruitless.

It was normal for humans to have sexual dreams about a vampire if they ingested their blood, but he’d never heard of it happening the other way around.  He’d been prey to so many wet dreams of tasting your cum on his tongue that he’d lost count.  It was getting to the point that he looked forward to the fantasies because it was a way to spend time with you; to feel the warm, wet lining of  your cheek when you sucked his fingers, to not only split you open with his cock and deny you until you begged to cum, but to make soft, deep love to you when he confessed things that he could never say out loud.  

He wasn’t allowed to have feelings for you.  It would make his job very…complicated.

That other secret job of his, the one you could never know anything about.

“Have you been avoiding me?”

Eddie’s head snapped up at your question. “Why would I be avoiding you?” Indeed, that is exactly what he’d been doing, but he didn’t want it to be obvious.

With an absent shrug, you realized all of a sudden that you only had a light cardigan on over your jumper, and your teeth were chattering.

“I’ve been really busy with…” he trailed off.  “...stuff.”

“I loved the butterfly you made,” you told him, hoping to see those flecks of gold dance in his eyes again.  

“You mean the bug soldier?” He chuckled, correcting you. “Those aren’t butterfly wings, that’s a cape.”

“He’s inside.  I’ll have to apologize to him for calling him a butterfly.” You wrapped your arms around yourself.  “Do you want to come in?”

“Shit, sorry, yeah, you look cold.  Here.” He shrugged his leather jacket off, exposing the patchwork of tattoos along his arms and neck, and you let him put it around  your shoulders.  You were suddenly shrouded in that familiar musk of his and you felt safe.

But then, he let the weight of your other question sink in.  “Are you inviting me in? Officially?”

If you invited a vampire in, that meant they could enter your home any time they pleased, by whatever means necessary.  There was always the option to resend the invite, but it was an important decision that would eliminate the barrier of magical protection.

Just as you were about to make a decision, you heard the sound of glass breaking, like a window shattering.  

And then you heard the all too familiar screeching.

“Oh shit, Bela,” you cursed under your breath.

“Bela?” Eddie tried to peer around the trailer to where the sound was coming from. “Who is —”

She appeared over the top of the roof then, jagged teeth ready to strike as she shot down at Eddie like a missile, roaring as she went.

Defensively, he exposed his fangs to meet her aggression.

“No, no Bela! He’s a friend!” You put your arm out like a shield to protect him and she landed on it like a trained Hawk or Owl, curling a finger from one of her wings around you for support.

She hissed one more time at him for good measure, and then her wings fell slowly to her sides as she crept up your arm to settle on your shoulder.

Eddie’s jaw went slack.  

“Is this the…same one that we…how?”

You told him about how you found her on the porch and the way she refused to let you too far out of her sight.

He lifted a hand to maybe touch a finger to her belly.  “Can I?” He asked you.

“I wouldn’t,” you responded quickly, noting Bela’s low growl.  “Not until she knows you aren’t a threat to me.”

He dropped his hand and hooked a thumb into his belt loop, taking in the details of what it was like to see one of them up close.  “I’ve never heard of a human, or anyone, making one of them into a pet. I didn’t think it was possible. They are killing machines.”

You let Bela rest one of her heavy tentacles gently in the palm of your hand, swirling it into a spiral.  “I don’t know if she’s a pet as much as…some type of guardian.  She’s tuned into my emotions somehow. I think that’s why she’s not trying to eat your face off right now.”

You were enjoying the awestruck expression on Eddie’s face.  “Did you still want to come inside? Or have you changed your mind?”

He remembered the wet dreams he’d been having, how many times you’d buried his length inside of you while seated in his lap.  The sweat dripping down, the groaning, the words of adoration.  The way he fingered you in the shower and made you—-

“Earth to Eddie?” Your voice snapped him from his thoughts. “I said, would you like to come in?” 

You had the door open, and you gestured for him to follow, with a feral demobat casually riding on your shoulder.  It had begun to snow again; petite flakes that melted as soon as they hit  your skin.  One got stuck on Eddie’s eyelash.  

“Yes,” he swallowed, raking a hand through his hair. “Yes, I would like to come in.”

“Okay, let me put Bela in my bedroom real quick,” you went on ahead into the warmth of your place, shivering.  Eddie put his boot in the door to keep it from closing, taking in the gravity of the situation.

You had invited him inside.

As a vampire, it was not something to be taken lightly.  

You had to put Bela in the bathroom momentarily, until you could duct tape over the broken window in your bedroom.  You felt like she’d listened to you well enough, but the doubts you had gave you anxiety, so separating her from your new guest felt like the best idea.  You put a soft blanket on the bathtub in there, and she nestled down in it like she was sleepy.  

When you came back out a few minutes later, Eddie was still standing in the doorway, just inside the threshold.

“Did the invitation not work?” You asked, curiously.

“No, no, it did,” he took the final step in and went to close the door behind him.  “I was just enjoying the moment, I guess.”

You noticed that his hand, the one that had been bleeding earlier, was completely healed already.  

Just as the front door was about to shut completely, headlights from a car lit up the porch as someone approached from the road and parked in front of your trailer.

“What now?” You sighed, exasperated.

But then you heard the rumble of the big engine that belonged to a classic, square-body Chevy, and your blood ran cold with sudden recognition.

Eddie closed the door the final inch and turned to note the way you nervously adjusted yourself.  “Were you expecting someone?”

Shit shit shit

You cursed to yourself quietly. 

Could all this be happening at a worse time?

Also, how could you forget? Between Bela and Eddie's motorcycle buddies, the fact that you’d agreed to go on date that night had somehow slipped your mind.  

The headlights turned off and the engine cut. 

“Yeah, um, I agreed to go to the movies with someone tonight,” you cleared your throat.  Why were you nervous to tell him you had a date? It wasn’t like Eddie had made a move, in fact, he’d been giving you the cold shoulder for weeks.  You were starting to think he was repulsed by you.

“Someone?” Eddie heard the heavy footfalls climbing up the wood steps, and realization dawned on him. Everything made sense all at once.  The fact that you were dressed up in clothes he’d never seen you in, and you smelled extremely good, even more so than normal.  

What had he expected you to do? Wait around on the porch for him, knitting, until he was able to work through his issues and ask you on a date himself?

Someone else had beaten him to hit, and he didn’t care who it was—he fucking hated him.  Wanted to rip him open and stomp on their guts.

At the sound of the doorbell, Bela screeched from the bathroom.

Chaos, you mused, pure chaos.

You squeezed your eyes shut and wished for a hole to open up in the ground and swallow you up.

With a tight jaw, Eddie was the one to open the door.

Steve Harrington had a bouquet of daisies in his hand. A full head of hair that was long down his neck, and black and red flannel over a new pair of blue jeans. He raised an eyebrow at the sight of you standing just behind the vampire with the murderous look on his face.

Steve’s eyes shifted to you.  “Is this a bad time?”

“Yes,” Eddie said.

“No,” you corrected, pushing by Eddie to take the flowers and thank him.

“These are so beautiful,” you cleared your throat.  “Um, Steve—this is Eddie, my neighbor.  Eddie this is—”

“I know who he is,” they both said in unison.

You watched Steve’s brown eyes glow a bright yellow for a moment as he regarded your other guest with stern resolve. 

You took off Eddie’s jacket and handed it back to him with a shove. “Just give me a second to grab a few things?” You said to Steve in a rush.  “I’ll be—I’ll be right out.”

Steve stared right at Eddie when he said, “I’ll go wait in the truck.”

“You do that,” Eddie muttered as Steve turned to go.

Eddie was quick to slam the door shut again.  He turned to you with a scowl on his face, “A werewolf?” He balked.  “You’re going on a date with one of those smelly dogs?”

“Yeah, well,” you tossed the daisies on the counter while you fumbled with your handbag. “Why do you care?”

“I don’t,” he pursed his lips into a tight line and shook his head.

“Good, that’s settled,” you took a deep breath.  “Not that you deserve any explanation, but I’ve been running into him at the bookstore for weeks, and I mentioned that I never go anywhere, so he invited me to a movie.  We’re just going as friends.”

“Friends don’t bring you flowers.” 

Outside, the truck rumbled to life and the headlights snapped on again. 

“I can’t do this right now with you, Eddie.  I need you to go so that I can get Bela out of the bathroom and calm her down before I leave.”

Without another word, he reached for the door again.

“Hey Eddie,” you softened your tone.  You’d meant to grab his arm, but took hold of his hand instead.  He squeezed your fingers back, but he did not turn to meet your eyes.  “I’m sorry we didn’t get to…I don’t mean to run out on you like this. Maybe tomorrow?”

“I’m busy,” he mumbled.  He rubbed his thumb over your knuckles once, and then, in a blink, he was out the door and gone.  

-----

Love you all for your patience on this! I look forward to your thoughts and reactions through comments, reblogs, and asks so much! All my love!

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Taglist: @trixyvixx @sllooney @writinginthetwilight @sidthedollface2 @atomickaratel8dy @probablyin-bed @kiyastrf94@briamunson92 @joannamuns9n @jasminelafleur @@bellalillyrose @dashingdeb16 @alba8688 @corrodeddeadlydoll @brassreign @likedovesinthewnd @ilovetaquitosmmm @skrzydlak @onegirlmanytales @angietherose @probablyin-bed @reidsbtch @moonbeamsandmayhem @eddiesxangel @hideoutside @secretdryrose @nailbatanddungeon @thorfemmes @corkadymu @kellsck @mrsjellymunson @poofyloofy

[shinakazami1]

have you seen the promotional material from tsp greenlight? if yes i would absolutely love to hear your thoughts on it. otherwise i can go fetch it for ya

First - please check Maximum's art - one of my fav TSP artists fr fr <333 Thanks for the ask!!

I asked for the files and now I'm sharing it here for you guys, too of the original TSP: HD REMIX greenlight.

I want to say that the TSPUD release took some inspiration from this campaign and I will compare the two, focusing mainly on the greenlight as you've asked for it.

There is a lot to unpack here so, I will break this into a few parts.

TABLE OF CONTENT

1) Trailers 1a) The First Trailer 1b) The Raphael Trailer 2) Images 3) The FAQ (frequently asked questions) 4) Final conclusions

1a) The First Trailer

Let's look at this trailer first. From what I can tell, this is the first instance of the 2013 intro. The layout of the Parable is once again unique, which happens in other trailers, too.

What is intriguing is the ending.

The exit sign - was also visible in 2011 Escape Ending (with Curator), and 2013 (Mariella Ending - it's green). The only instance of it being above the door is the Demo (door close to 'Do you like the Stanley Parable' choice). It feels like a clever blend of the 2011 and 2013 ending to me, as the Narrator experiments more with the new placement. That's maybe why the layout feels isn't as familiar.

It's also the first instance where we see Stanley being conscious, besides the 2011 opening. From his perspective - he woke up to completely. Every video present in it is from the intro - which, seeing erratic movements from the camera, could mean those are new to him, too.

My take is this is where the Other Stanley comes in place. As he can move too, he might either be the guy who we see in the trailers OR, the one in the video. I like both interpretations

This trailer was reimagined for the PS5 release of TSPUD.

The layout is also different from the main game. What is intriguing, however, is the setup. While the intro does show the room from above, making this fake 427 room just a scrapped material, the fact that the new Freedom ending (look at the difference in the sky between the images), only furthers what I said in my prev post (about IOS release )

Conclusions:

For trailers, the Narrator likes to make new parts of the Parable and play with layouts, letting Stanley run around freely.

That Stanley might be The Other Stanley. These, besides the Escape Pod Ending, are the only spots that Stanley moves by himself.

The greenlight trailer is there to show the new content from the perspective of 2011 mod, with a small callback to the original.

Now, onto

1b) The Raphael Trailer

Link to it Before I get to the trailer, I just want to give a shoutout to a Raphael Parable mod. It's an interesting fan game and I truly admire it.

The orange walls are typical Source SDK engine ones, and we have the emotion boxes found later in the Demo.

Have this list tho because it's funny

It's the typical type of crazy list we see in the Demo, Disco, and iOS new content; I feel this is closer to most of them, written by the Narrator instead of Proctols like the Disco one.

It's also the first mention of other types of game and the Narrator's interest in them. The survival horror element with the Bicycle scene is really nice. It shows up later in the Memory Zone <3

In general - this is, before Cookie9, the first canon situation of the Narrator reading other people's feedback on the game. Just like with Cookie, he seems to take a proactive method with negative feedback, trying to show he can change. The attitude, however, also changed - for Raphael's ending, he is still 2011 way meaner self. The amount of sarcasm throughout the whole thing is so enjoyable and, whoever Raphael is, I hope he enjoyed this.

Conclusions:

The Narrator takes a proactive approach to critique that feels close to heart.

The construction part with desk 000 is shown for the first time - which could potentially mean each office number corresponds also to the part of office built.

2) The Images

There are 17 images in total. This part is also referenced in the PS5 TSPUD release video but also, if you look at the Mind Control Facility, some of the images are also used there as some of the room renders.

There are main three types of these images. The first, the contradictions that are also present in the PS5 video. It's a theme in the game in general to combine these, as The End is Never The End (thing that the PS5 text segment ends with) only shows it more.

The second element - image 7 mentioned multiple different games styles that just like the video, fits the fact the Narrator loves gaming.

But the third one is most interesting. The text in these seems conscious

For the person who could say this, it could be either The Narrator or The Settings.

a) The Narrator: - Asking someone for help when game doesn't work like he thought:

Demo: " THEY SAID THEY LIKED IT! I NEED SOMEONE TO STOP THE DEMO! HELLO??"

Expo Achievement Fix: "Who fixed it? Is someone here?" ;

Confusion" "Will someone come for us?" - Skip Button parallels:

Image 12: slow corruption and scattered mind,

Image 15: "I am in control" ("It's all out of my control now. ") ,

Image 16: repetition,

Image 17: the return to normality

b) The Settings Person / 432 / TimeKeeper : - This could be his first appearance in the series.

- References to 'someone' could be his coworkers.

- Image 12: we know the number 8 is significant in the game. Just like the Bucket and Gamborrata, we know there seems to be some spiritual stuff going on and that might be the exact moment when he became the Timekeeper.

- Image 14: "If someone could get rid of the text maybe then I would see what the game is about" seems not quite like The Narrator's thing to say, as it's his game. Rather than that, it feels like someone else could be involved. - and with the corruption, it feels like a great

- Image 15: "don't tell me what to do" and Image 17: 'Let's begin again' fit their Settngs Persona

Both interpretations are as likely and while I prefer it's 432, feel free to make your own interpretations :] Maybe it's even a new character we don't know!

EDIT: I want to just show the smallest text on image 14:

"I would just like to know who is writing all of this. Do you know who is doing that. Would you please ask them to stop? Because I'm trying to figure out what this game is about (covered)"

This one part could mean whatever we see here are transcripts of thoughts, or what the person is saying is either written on the slides as they speak (meaning someone IS observing them), or they possibly have internet access (Google Translator). Once again, both can be true for The Narrator and 432 but, I thought it was a neat detail :]

Now, onto the last part:

3) The FAQ

It ties a bit back to who might be the person speaking in the images. And here, I would say it's even harder to tell due to the answers.

The question that starts it all is this:

If you remember the iOS post, the Narrator will in the future to this say he holds back on the details. Of course, as this is Davey/Cakebread, it could be interpreted as one of the Proctols speaking.

The second part though, is really interesting.

The question of identity is one in gen also present in the game (i.e. Confusion ending).

But the ending note-

"I'm alone again, aren't I."

makes me feel that once again. This might be either a) someone else entirely,

b) The Settings Person (theme of loneliness, loss of identity, understanding of weird rules),

c) Or, for this one my favourite, The Narrator.

Skip: "And here I am now, stuck in a room waiting for you (...) and that I'm going to be stuck all alone(...)" 

Bucket apartment: "No, no no, no, no, no, no, no, what's going on? Why do I want to be with the bucket, hear what the bucket has to say do anything it asks, what's wrong with me? I don't understand!"

4) Final conclusions

First - thank you maximum for the ask. I had no clue about the Greenlight Steam page so, this was a delight to look through and analyse. Here are my final thoughts on this:

This was still a collaborative work for the Narrator. The construction work, the different characters seemingly present in the images and the FAQ work well with the Demo having mention of Proctols. He used some old ideas and is going into new territory.

Trailers are spaces for Stanley (or, the Other Stanley) to walk in peacefully without a player's interference. It's unclear which Stanley is it.

The critique was meaningful to him from the start. The way he responded to it felt similar, but the emotional impact seemed to have changed, just like he did between TSP and TSPUD.

Themes of madness and loss of identity are important in the game. It might be the first instance of The Settings Person appearance, but no canon information is shown.

The FAQ might be the last canon instance of him being directly in touch with the Proctols.

If you got to this part of the post - thank you :] Nine cookies for you!!

🍪🍪🍪🍪🍪🍪🍪🍪🍪

[givethemsmut]

The Pack | Chapter Six

Characters: Dylan O’Brien, fem!reader

Pairing: Dylan O’Brien, Dylan x You

“Stiles. You can’t keep putting yourself in the middle of danger.”

“Lydia I don’t put myself in danger blindly, I do it to protect you from danger.”

Dylan inches closer to me, his lips light as a feather and devoid of any real passion. I touched his hand before I moved closer pressing my lips to his again in order to redo the kiss that was supposed to scream passion.

Our kiss deepened as I straddled his lap, letting my tongue bully his gently. He pulled away, “I don’t think Holland will do all that…”

Still straddling him I said, “Can I be jealous if she does?” Smiling big like a kid who got the exact thing he wanted for Christmas he only wrapped his around me more, keeping me his hostage.

We stayed up watching movies until my dad knocked again, “Hey. I’m gonna come in now. Cover up.”

We both laughed, when he continued, “I’m gonna head to bed. Dylan – 9 AM call in. Don’t be late. And here since you’ve already helped yourself.”

He tossed him the box of condoms and Dylan died holding in his laughter as my Dad left. His cheeks brushed up bright red and I could feel the second hand embarrassment setting in.

We fell asleep watching Netflix and avoiding having sex with my Dad across the hall. My alarm went off and Dylan was not about waking up at all. Tyler was right, he wasn’t a morning person. After he finally got up he drove like a maniac to the lot. Thankfully my Dad left way earlier than either of us so we avoided some dirty glares and a walk of shame.

Dylan was the last to arrive but he apparently didn’t go through make up or hair either. He parked his car and sat back prepping me on today, “Today is still gonna be really long even without hair and shit. 17 hours. You don’t have to stay the whole time. Here take my keys, whenever you’re ready take my car.”

He jumped out while I put his keys in my purse and he opened my door taking my hand. I asked him, “What’s the first thing you do?”

He headed straight for the craft service room filled with food and coffee. “Hungry?” I shook my head and put a bagel in a napkin and offered to make the coffee. He said, “Come on. We’ll go to my trailer then I’ll get the breakdown of today, how much time we have.”

After we got back to his trailer with his character’s name on it a PA came knocking to let him know when his scenes would be and when he was needed. He had two hours until he had rehearsal and testing then his scene would be directly after. The rest of the scenes would be smaller and less work. He told the PA he was gonna shower then he’d go to wardrobe. I looked at him like he was crazy, his trailer seemed typically not over done, but he had a shower?

He took my hand as he sipped his coffee, “Come shower with me. Keep me company, save water and shit.”

The shower was this beautiful huge glass door shower that you’d never know existed. He took off his shirt smoothly and let it drop to the floor as I followed suit.

He took off his pants so expertly it made me wonder what kind of past he had, besides his ex.

He leaned into me teasing me and not yet kissing me as he undid my bra. His fingers danced along my back, skating over my rib cage, and tugging the cups down enough to slink the bra off my arms entirely. I still got the chills and all the feels I thought would fade by now.

My bra discarded to the floor, I felt his hands around my waist pull me closer to his body, kissing my shoulder. His soft hands tickled my hips before he pushed the sides of my panties down, urging them off.

I felt tempted to touch him back so badly my idle hands palmed his hard on through the material of his boxers. Stepping out of my panties I blushed knowing he was looking at every inch of me. Lowering myself down and my eyes fixed on his towering above me letting my hands smooth over his hard member.

“Not yet. I don’t wanna cum yet…” he couldn’t catch his breath as he spoke. I was still holding mine and my lungs wanted to burst.

Taking his hand I stood up as he reached inside the door to turn on the shower on and next thing I knew his arms around me pulling me inside with him. Nothing about this shower was to wash off. We didn’t want to wash each other off in the slightest, we wanted to drown in each other.

Reaching behind him I grabbed the shampoo and squeezed his it right above his head laughing as it only made his hair even more wild.

I watched him rinse off, backing away but holding his hand, admiring every toned muscle now wet. Dylan was hard to resist even before his shirt came off and now I was even more in trouble now that it had.

It was almost as if he could hear me when he came towards me, body against mine and mine against the shower wall as our tongues touched. I lifted my leg so my knee was against his hip when he bent down enough to pick me up. Wrapping my legs around him as he held me up.

I moaned feeling his length and width fill between my legs. He moaned a quiet fuck as we both tried to catch my breathe. We both heard a knock and froze hoping they’d go away. “Dyl! It’s me, Posey! Bro you awake?”

“He’ll leave. Shhh…”

Dylan’s hips slowly moved again, fucking me again, kissing anywhere his lips could reach. Dylan heard the door open and he shouted to Posey, “Dude I’m in the shower. What’s up?”

His hips still going I pushed my lips against his shoulder to keep myself quiet.

Tyler spoke again, “I heard you were on set and I hadn’t seen you. Are you seriously still mad at me?”

Dylan sighed loudly kissing my cheek and apologizing, “I’m not mad but I’m showering my girl bro. Together. I wouldn’t deny being inside her right now.”

Posey died laughing and apologized a million times as he left. “I’m your girl now huh?”

He was done teasing, done drawing it out when his thrusts only became faster and harder. My arms around his neck he told me, “Oh you’re mine alright.”

Putting me down, he turned me around so my hands were on the shower wall and my ass was out. His knuckles brushed my soaking wet slit until he found exactly where he shoved every inch to my hilt. Pushing my ass back against me I was chasing relief.

“Fuck,” I heard it slip from his mouth as I kept pushing back onto him, “Dylan. Oh my god.” His hands got tighter on my hips, he knew I was coming by the way I pulsed around him. As I came I felt him pull out leaving this empty feeling before I felt his fist against my ass as he helped himself cum. Almost immediately, I felt the warm ropes of his orgasm splatter against my ass before he pushed me against the wall again kissing me my shoulder.

“You called me baby.”

I laughed shaking my head, “I did no such thing.”

After cleaning up Dylan dawned a robe closed up and I gave his such an odd look as he explained, “I’ve got wardrobe next. I’m over getting gonna get dressed to get naked.” I laughed again as I threw my hair in a bun before we left for wardrobe.

Tyler was on a golf cart laughing as we walked by and he shouted, “Dylan! Hey!” Dylan hugged him tight in a way everyone knew they were mentally apologizing and reconnecting.

I touched Dylan’s shoulder and whispered, “I’ll meet you on stage. You two bond.” I went to search for my dad who I knew never let the stage. “Pops. Prepping?”

He was in the chair labeled executive produce highlighting the daily script and marking notes. “Here with your new boyfriend?”

He didn’t even look up to see my reaction but sure as hell felt me swat his arm, “He’s just… a friend… I don’t know. We don’t have to date because he took my virginity.”

He threw his hands over his ears quickly and made a face of someone who witnessed an episode of fear factor that involved bugs.

I sat down next to him, examining the set and layout as I’ve picked up from my Dad. “Hey, are you guys doing a wide lens shot? This is Dylan’s scene right?”

My dad raised an eyebrow, “Why? What are you thinking?” I stood up looking at the visual elements of the set which wasn’t many and the tone was much darker then anything needing a wide shot. “Tighter shot. Straight on. Then a shift when they kiss. Side by side then a ground shot to fade.”

My dad stood up with me following me as I spoke and looked at the set design, “Well then. Direct next week. Until then I’ll let the director know I’m changing the shot.”

I sat down in the chair next to his as I watched him talking to the crew about changing the camera angles for the shot. My dad sat down again pulling his bag into his lap pulling out scripts and handing them to me. “Read these 4 and let me know which you’re gonna direct.”

I started flipping through them not really reading but browsing Dylan’s parts only without realizing it. The script the furtherest out spoke to me, Dylan’s character was in full swing and losing his mind. His support system was trying to reach him but couldn’t. There was a shower scene with another main character trying to pull him out of the depths of his mind trying to appeal to his virginity. It was dark for TV and felt very real. I read it all the way through until I felt Dylan’s hand on my shoulder scaring me.

In a low voice he spoke right into my ear, “I gotta do this scene. You okay watching some girl kiss me?”

I saw a redhead hit the stage and prepare for her marks and suddenly I got self conscious. I knew it was fake, she was probably with someone else in real life, but it was still an intimate moment.

Dylan stepped in front of my view, “It’s just acting. Don’t forget? Lines I remember to say, choreography I’ve learned. Okay?” I shook my head unsure of how I’d react or feel seeing it. We may not have been in love but our connection was very deep.

My dad leaned in, “Dylan get on mark. She’ll be okay.”

Once Dylan was going over marks with the director my dad said, “Sure you wanna watch? Most girlfriends don’t. It always starts drama between couples, insecurities, jealously.”

I told him, “No, I wanna support him. He asked me to come.” The Director said, “Quiet on set! Phones off! Actors mark, ready, take one, action!” I watched the science unfold as Dylan expressed his love and need to protect Lydia from danger before the kissing began. Lydia wrapped her arms around his neck as their lips kept touching. Dylan’s hands grasped her hips the way he did mine in the shower earlier. I saw their lips separate and their tongues touch.

Their kiss deepened and there was no cut yelled from the director but Dylan’s body fell back on the bed in the scene as Lydia’s body gently laid on top of him. They kissed with her very short dress riding up even more and Dylan’s hands having little room to wander without being on her skin. I was getting antsy in my chair watching and wondering how far this would go. Finally the director yelled cut and I shot up from my seat.

Dylan shouted, “How Long were you gonna make us do that? What the fuck.”

My dad shouted to Dylan, “You said no sex scenes. We gotta milk it. Stiles is a virgin, he’s not gonna just stop at a kiss with his dream girl.”

Dylan didn’t look too pleased, “Can we take 5?”

Director shouted back, “Take 5! Back to first marks.”

Dylan shouted once again, “Can I get some help over here?”

My dad leaned over, “He needs your sweater. Less embarrassing if it’s you.” Shouting to Dylan, “It’s coming Dyl. Hang tight.

[ideas-on-paper]

The mystery of P's skin

If there's one thing the entire Lies of P community can agree upon, it's probably that Pinocchio looks very, very handsome. Many people - including me - were enamored by his looks from the moment they first saw him in the trailers, by his soft locks, sweet freckles and big blue eyes.

However, even early on, I couldn't help but feel like there was something... odd about his features - more specifically, his skin. For a puppet whose outer shell usually consists of porcelain, wood, or some other artificial material, it looked almost too realistic.

Of course, it could just be very realistic looking faux skin (which, given Lies of P's 19th-century technology, would be kind of impressive), but after some careful observations, I get the feeling there actually might be more to it. And given some of the things I learned in my research about real-life automata, there might be a grisly, sinister secret behind P's innocent face.

[Massive spoilers for Lies of P]

[CW: skinning, violence to children]

The Lies of P character cards

The first time I noticed there was something strange about P's skin was when I was looking at the character cards Neowiz released back in 2022, as promotional material for Gamescom.

These cards feature high-resolution renders of the main characters, showing a lot of structural details of clothing, hair, and skin.

As for P's render, it looks like this:

One thing that confused me from the start was just how perfectly normal his skin looks. Most of the other puppets have porcelain skin, which creates a very distinct reflection when light falls onto it, as we can see with Polendina:

For P, however, we see no such effect, implying that his outer shell is not made of porcelain. Also, seeing how he occasionally squints his eyes on the character screen and how his skin squishes and stretches as a result, I think it most definitely consists of something else - because if I know one thing, it's that porcelain does not physically behave that way.

Instead, a lot of people (particularly fanfic writers) have come up with the headcanon that P has really realistic-looking faux skin. However, if that were the case, I would find it really puzzling just how many small impurities there are on his face. You would probably expect synthetically manufactured skin to look very smooth and clean, but in case of P, if you pay close attention, you can spot tiny irregularities giving the impression of skin pores, and even a bump above his left eye.

In comparison, P's skin actually looks surprisingly similar to that of the human characters from the game. For reference, here are the portraits of Sophia, Venigni and Eugénie:

See what I mean? There is virtually no distinction between the structure of P's skin and that of the human characters (to be fair, Eugénie's even looks a lot cleaner). Adding to this, these close-ups of P's face during the ending cutscene make it apparent that these small blemishes certainly, most definitely are skin pores.

Considering all of this, I've come up with a somewhat eccentric theory - that P's skin is neither made from porcelain nor some other kind of faux material, but real, actual skin.

Automata with animal skin and Vaucanson's "Flute Player"

Some of you may wonder: "But P is a puppet! How could he possibly have real, human skin?"

Well... this is where the disturbing part begins.

First off, we have to take a quick dive into the history of automata, the real-life clockwork machines providing the basis of Lies of P's lore. Originally, clockwork mechanisms took up an enormous amount of space, being used for huge clock towers in cities and large-scale moving sculptures. Over the centuries, the mechanical components became smaller, enabling clockmakers and artisans to produce more intricate crafts, including miniature reproductions of people and animals.

Clocks and music boxes featuring birds with real feathers were extremely popular, but there were also other automata coated with real animal skin: As early as the 17th century, we have a drumming bear with actual bear fur (located in the Mathematisch-Physikalischer Salon, Dresden) and a pair of lion table clocks (located in Skokloster Castle, Sweden) coated in the hide of lambs. From the 19th century, we know of a toy mouse by Gustave Vichy as well as a toy rabbit by Nicolas Théroude, both covered in real animal fur. In addition, there were various 19th-century dolls with leather bodies, and the company Jérôme Thibouville-Lamy even produced a miniature ensemble of monkey musicians with heads covered in soft leather, which could move their lips to show their teeth.

However, we don't have any accounts that skin was used for human automata - except for one extraordinary case from the 18th century.

In 1738, the French inventor Jacques de Vaucanson presented an automaton called "The Flute Player". It was the size of a real-life human, and in contrast to all other automata of the time, it didn't use some kind of sound box to produce its music, but actual air flow. The inner mechanism consisted of a system of nine bellows, divided into sets of three, which were each controlled by a weight to regulate air pressure. Each set was attached to a pipe, three in total, which all joined up into a single one, similar to a trachea. This singular pipe continued up the throat, widening at the top to form the mouth cavity where the air flowed out. To correctly play the flute, the automaton was equipped with lips which could not only open and close, but also move back and forward to cover the holes. To better control the air flow and create pauses between notes, the automaton even possessed a movable, silver tongue.

Despite this virtually perfect imitation of the action of flute playing, Vaucanson had to realize that the automaton's metal fingers weren't pliable enough to cover the holes of the instrument correctly - so, for the automaton to be able to execute its task, Vaucanson had to glove the hands in real, actual skin.

It's speculated it was human skin, although I couldn't find any source decisively confirming this. Either way, despite Vaucanson being a quite controversial figure among his contemporaries, he was a fascinating personality: He was one of the first to construct automata that were not meant to serve as mere toys, but which could do labor, being credited with the invention of what we today would call household androids back in 1727(!), and chances are he was neurodivergent as well (coming from my own observations as a neurodivergent person).

However, as much as I'd love to write an entire essay about Vaucanson right now, let's get back to our actual topic.

The procedure

To put it bluntly, what I think actually happened is this:

Geppetto took the skin of a dead boy, treated it in some way so it wouldn't rot, and then draped the skin over a wooden puppet frame.

I think from a moral standpoint, Geppetto would definitely be able to do this - however, it would require him to have a good deal of experience with human anatomy. As someone who builds humanoid puppets, I think he would at least have a theoretical understanding of it, but still, he's an engineer, not a doctor.

There is, however, one group with excellent medical knowledge who certainly wouldn't shy away from dissecting a human being: the Alchemists. Although Geppetto's dislike of the Alchemists is well known, he himself admitted that "in desperate times, I broke my own rule" after the disaster at the Grand Exhibition, and I assume Carlo's resurrection would be more than good a reason for that as well. Basically, my suspicion is that Geppetto had help from the Alchemists - maybe even from Simon Manus himself. If this was the case, I imagine Simon probably demanded some kind of favor in return - perhaps Geppetto and Simon struck a deal, with the Alchemists giving Geppetto free rein to execute his little experiment with the Puppet Frenzy, while he agreed not to interfere with their own. This would support the Mad Donkey's statement that Geppetto and the Alchemists were "scheming together". (Also, if they were actually working together, I think things already started with the Nameless Puppet, Geppetto's first attempt at resurrecting Carlo. In the cutscene before the fight against the Nameless Puppet, we can see that Geppetto's left hand has been fitted with implants, having the same bluish complexion that is typical of people who have been "enhanced" by the Alchemists.) However, I don't think Geppetto ever really trusted the Alchemists, so he probably planned to betray them at some point - at the same time, I think Simon knew Geppetto was deceiving him (reading thoughts is such an op skill), so he didn't fully rely on him either.

Regardless whether Geppetto had assistance or not, completely skinning a human without damaging the skin requires an immense amount of care. Looking at P's skin (or at least what we can see of it), there are no visible seams anywhere, which would mean Geppetto did his best to keep it intact, probably including the hair as well. (As we all know, P's hair looks very soft and natural, and you can't see any outlines where it was glued on; therefore, I believe it was left rooted in the skin.) Nevertheless, if you want to skin a body, you have to make a cut somewhere. One possible option would be the hole in P's chest (where the P-Organ is inserted), as there would later be an opening anyway; also, given that the Legion Arm would later replace the left one, there would naturally have to be a cut at the left upper arm. However, both of these openings would most likely be too small to completely remove the skin. Due to this, my suspicion is that Geppetto made a third, larger cut down P's back. It would be big enough to take the complete skin off, and it would also be convenient if P had something like a cam storage in his back, similar to the Jaquet-Droz automata. (This has been a headcanon of mine for a long time, since these cam discs act as an analogue storage for a clockwork automaton's movements, which are engraved into the edge. Given that P's combat moves are quite complex, he'd need a lot of space for those; btw, my theory is that the amulets from the game are actually interchangeable cams, because they have "information and memories that are useful for movement" imprinted on them.) I would assume both the openings at the front and at the back are usually covered with skin, with a small seam being visible where the original cut was. Whenever Geppetto needs to do maintenance, the skin would be peeled back to give him free access.

As for the rest of the process, I suppose it would be kind of similar to taxidermy. As it happens, the Victorian era (which is around the same time period the game is set in) was actually the golden age of taxidermy, when mounted animals started to become more lifelike - there was even a trend among pet owners to let their deceased pets be stuffed, as a way to "resurrect" them. (Just why do I always manage to stumble upon the most cursed parallels?) Once the skin had been taken off, any remains of fat and muscle tissue would be removed, after which it would be either tanned or treated with preserving chemicals. Following this, the skin would be mounted on a mannequin, in P's case probably a standard puppet frame made from wood and metal. Of course, you need to take precise measurements of the original body beforehand, and since this is about his darling son, I imagine Geppetto would put extra care into the modeling. At the end, all you'd have to do is add glass eyes - and well, there you have it: a perfect, biomechanical imitation of a human being.

However, we do know there were some unexpected changes in P, even physical ones like his hair growing. Presuming that he indeed does have real skin, I wonder if this may be due to the Ergo "recognizing" the organic material in some way, causing these lifelike reactions. I could imagine a puppet with human skin is quite unprecedented, so this would likely be a first time occurrence - in that case, it might potentially give a whole new meaning to Sophia's statement that P is a "special puppet". (I could go into even more detail regarding my theories about Ergo and P's transformation into "another kind of human" here, but frankly, I think this topic deserves its own post.)

I think P is far from Geppetto's first attempt, however: We do know from the description of the Nameless Puppet's Ergo that the Nameless Puppet (which presumably is a Frankenstein version of Carlo) was the first to be equipped with a P-Organ, but after it turned out to be unstable, it was left abandoned and locked away. In that sense, I imagine Romeo was something like a "field test" - I don't think turning Romeo into a puppet was something Geppetto planned from the start, but when he came and asked him, he presented Geppetto with too good of an opportunity to pass up. When the transferring of Romeo into his puppet body, all memories and personality intact, turned out to be a success, Geppetto decided to take the next step with P. I assume he designed multiple versions of P until he was satisfied, which might mean that the broken puppet in the swamp (which also seems to possess a P-Organ and isn't bound to the Grand Covenant) is actually one of P's predecessors.

Still, as interesting and disturbing all of these speculations are, there is one question that remains: If P really does possess real human skin, who was the original owner of it?

The origin of P's skin

The first, most logical assumption would probably be that Geppetto used the skin of Carlo. Back in 2022, when everyone hypothesized Geppetto had a son but no one could confirm it, I also assumed he took the skin of his deceased son.

Now that we know the game's story though, we have a bit more information. First off, it's heavily implied that the Nameless Puppet is actually a Frankenstein version of Carlo, which would mean that the weird organic-looking parts - specifically the upper body, right arm and face - originally belonged to Carlo's body.

Given that they have the appearance of decaying tissue, it seems like Geppetto did his best to save as much of Carlo's body at first, but ultimately was unsuccessful in bringing him back to life. Considering this, it seems quite unlikely that Geppetto would remove the skin from his son's body if he intended to preserve it. Also, you can actually see a nipple on the right side of the chest, which probably wouldn't be there if the skin was taken off.

There's another thing that doesn't quite fit into this: When looking at Carlo's portrait in the game, he looks strikingly similar to P at the first glance (so much, in fact, that I was afraid my wild fan theory might turn out to be true after all). However, upon closer inspection, one can make out a few subtle differences in Carlo's and P's appearances: Carlo lacks P's trademark freckles, and instead of Carlo's doe-brown eyes, P possesses light blue ones.

Granted, Carlo could've gotten the freckles later during his life, and the blue eyes might be due to the Ergo's influence (which I also assume to be the reason for Sophia's blue colored hair). However, when Carlo gets revived during the Real Boy ending, the differences are still there, as his outward appearance is not identical to P's:

If the Arm of God has the ability to restore things to their original state (which is how I interpreted it), that would mean Carlo looked different from P at the point of his death, meaning that P's skin can't be Carlo's.

Of course, if Geppetto did use human skin for P, but not Carlo's, that would make things quite complicated, as it would be extremely difficult to find someone who looks almost exactly like Carlo. Nevertheless, there's one fan theory I'd still like to talk about: Someone on Reddit actually proposed that Carlo might have had a twin brother once, whose soul got transferred into the lamp by Sophia.

I actually had a similar theory about Gemini before the game came out, although I never shared it publicly because I couldn't find any support for it other than Gemini's name and his death in the original book. Basically, the gist of it was that Gemini is the soul of Geppetto's dead son, which got separated from its body and somehow encased in the lamp.

Although this assumption is definitely outdated since we now know that Carlo is Geppetto's son, we do have many left-over questions about Gemini. (Some character development for Gemini is actually one of the things at the top of my wish list for the DLC; as far as characters go, I felt like Gemini was the game's single weak point, and I wish they would've utilized him more.) In fact, it almost seems like there was originally going to be an amnesia subplot for Gemini, judging by some of his comments. For example, we've got the remark about the fairy tale book at the Hotel, but despite remembering there was a person who particularly adored it, Gemini can't recall who it was. Then, we have this very interesting comment down at the Relic of Trismegistus where Gemini remembers that "someone was dragged away from here", but again can't tell precisely who.

Unfortunately, the game never builds upon these comments, and they're pretty much left standing as they are. In fact, I can't help the impression that this might be part of a cut storyline - even Sophia says that Gemini is "unique" and "more than just a guide", and Gemini himself states that he's a friend of Sophia's, and that she "woke him up the last time she was there" - although, once again, he doesn't remember the exact circumstances.

Now, I've noticed that "P is Carlo's twin brother" AUs are quite popular in the fandom, but I'd like to mention there's nothing from the game that hints at Carlo having a twin brother (at least, to my knowledge). Still, it is quite an interesting theory - if the assumption that it was Carlo who particularly loved the fairy tale about the wooden puppet is true (based on Geppetto's comment during the fight with the Nameless Puppet that he should've taken more time to read him from his "favorite book"), it would explain why Gemini, his former twin brother, knows about it. However, if it really was Sophia who transferred Gemini's soul into the lamp, it prompts the question of the exact circumstances of his death. Given that Geppetto was willing to murder an entire city just for Carlo's revival, I wouldn't put it past him to sacrifice his other, perhaps not-so-favorite son for his endeavor - perhaps that's why P looks very similar, but not identical to Carlo.

Still, it's probably best if you take all of this with a grain of salt, as even compared to my original theory that P might have human skin, it's pretty exotic at best. Also, given that Gemini is directly mentioned in a memory scene that presumably takes place at the Monad Charity House makes this even more questionable. At least, I think it's highly unlikely that Gemini is Carlo's twin brother if he accompanied the mysterious Stalker - on the other hand, it seems a bit strange that Gemini would know about Carlo's favorite book if they only knew each other what appears to be such a short amount of time, especially when their relationship didn't start on good terms. Again, nothing is for certain, as we don't see Gemini physically appear in the memory scene - the only thing that seems to be confirmed is that Gemini also was a human once (at least I can't imagine what a cricket lamp is supposed to do against two unruly school boys).

Other possible alternatives

So, let's say Geppetto didn't actually use human skin for Pinocchio (which, to be honest, would be a relief) - why would he decide to make P look slightly different from Carlo?

One reason I can think of is that he designed P as a kind of "idealized" version of Carlo - judging by his comment before the final battle, Geppetto seems to have been discontent with Carlo's "mischievous" behavior, so maybe he used that opportunity to make him the "picture-perfect son" he always wanted.

Then again, given how rarely Geppetto saw him, I wonder if he even knew what Carlo looked like at the point of his graduation. When he retrieved his dead body, perhaps Carlo's face was disfigured beyond recognition, and all Geppetto had to work with were some old pictures/photos and his own memory.

If that was the case, it would make sense that P's outer appearance slightly differs from Carlo. Still, Geppetto was confident his plan would work out, that the resemblance would be enough to trigger Carlo's memories - but for whatever reason, it didn't, be that because of physical discrepancies or because Carlo was already gone.

Conclusion

In the end, no matter what Geppetto did, the fact remains that it was an insult - not only to Carlo, but also to P.

From the moment he first opened his eyes, P was forced to live in another person's skin (perhaps even literally), with no other choice being offered to him. His entire existence is essentially a lie, being expected to fill the role of someone he just isn't. Moreover, in trying to revive Carlo, what Geppetto actually did was soiling his memory - the mere notion that a living person can be replaced is beyond disrespectful, and to let innocents die in pursuit of this madness is an atrocity I have no words for. Even if Geppetto did all of this out of regret for having neglected Carlo and not spending more time with him, let me spell out one thing Nick Carraway already said in The Great Gatsby: You can't repeat the past.

However, what was given to you at birth is not everything you have to be, and what others expect from you is not what you have to become. In my own way, I love Pinocchio very dearly, but that love extends far beyond pretty looks. I relate to his struggle, and I would do anything to aid him in becoming his own person. Whatever choice he makes for himself, I will support it, and no matter if human or puppet, I'm going to love him just the way he is.

Resources:

Anette Beyer's "Faszinierende Welt der Automaten - Uhren, Puppen, Spielereien" ("Fascinating world of automata - clocks, dolls, playthings")

About Jacques de Vaucanson

On clockwork automata in general

[goodomens-hints]

Episode 1 plot summary (+complete list of scenes) and more details about later episodes

SPOILER WARNING SPOILER GOOD OMEN SPOILERS BELOW i'll leave my inbox open in case anyone has specific questions about season 2 eps

Scene 1: star creation scene Crowley needs help building constellations so he calls out at a shooting star-shape that turns out to be Aziraphale, who materializes in front of him. He asks Aziraphale to hold up an open scroll with schematics for the galaxies. When Aziraphale does so, Crowley pokes the center of the scroll with his hand crank device and twists it, so that nebulae shoot out. Yes there is a scene where Crowley says "look at that, gorgeous" and Aziraphale gets flustered. They watch in awe until Aziraphale tells Crowley "you do know after 6,000 years it'll be gone right? I read about it in the Great Plan". Crowley gets upset and protests, questioning the almighty, how there should be a suggestion box where they can put suggestions, and Aziraphale advises him not to say such things. Crowley says it's not like asking questions gets you into trouble. They watch the galaxies bloom and Crowley veils Aziraphale with his wing as shooting stars fall toward them, similar to the Garden of Eden scene but in reverse. Scene 2 aziraphale goes to record shop Aziraphale gets a note in the bookshop that says there's a matter of great "ugrency" (misspelled). He visits Maggie in the record shop and she's crying because she can't pay rent, so she's prepared to move. Aziraphale says if she gives him the records he requested, that'll be equivalent to the rent she owes. Maggie asks how he can forgive her and he says "I'm all about forgiveness, actually" and leaves.

Scene 3: crowley talks to shax this is the one posted on youtube, though it's a lengthened scene that includes the beginning where a spy tries to talk to crowley on the bench and he redirects him to the guy feeding ducks. those are the guys crowley is yelling at later. there is also a part where shax implies that crowley owes her specific information? it's very vague but it's probably why she's giving him updates on hell. yup, crowley does say he hasn't seen aziraphale in a while but it's clearly a lie lol Scene 4: michael mentions book of life

in heaven, michael is arguing with someone on the phone about the book of life, i thought at first it was beelzebub on the other end but it's probably uriel

Scene 5: gabriel appears on earth maggie visits nina who remembers her coffee order (skinny latte). then they're distracted by the commotion outside wherein gabriel shows up naked carrying a box. aziraphale is listening to the records but gabriel knocks on the door of his bookshop. there's a huge crowd outside and the moment aziraphale opens the door, gabriel says "I know you! :D" and hugs him in front of everyone while still naked LOL. aziraphale gets really embarrassed and brings gabriel inside. the rest of the scene is the one on youtube where gabriel explains he doesn't remember who he is. Scene 6: muriel finds matchbox short scene where muriel finds the matchbox with Job's passage on the floor of Heaven. you can see a bit of this in the trailer

Scene 7: crowley throws mail and meets shax again Crowley is in a random street throwing the mail shax gave him into a garbage can. Suddenly shax calls and crowley picks up, snapping at her that she shouldn't call and appear suddenly at the same time. shax appears behind him and says "why not?" this is the pic where both shax and crowley are on the phone -- theyre actually talking to each other lmao. shax tells crowley there are rumors of gabriel being missing and crowley is happy. she leaves. Scene 8:

aziraphale is talking to gabriel and we get the whole trailer scene ("you know that feeling where...") but in the real ep aziraphale's reaction is SO ANIMATED, with him standing up and saying "No! definitely not! I have no idea!" LMAO it's so funny, he's so in denial. We hear FLIES when it cuts to gabriel btw so maybe beelzebub is spying? HOW SUSPICIOUS. At one point Gabriel says "I love you" out of nowhere to Aziraphale and Aziraphale says "I..." and Gabriel smiles, looking like he's expecting an i love you back but Aziraphale just says "hmm". People were laughing so hard at this.

Aziraphale calls crowley and asks to meet at the coffee shop. Crowley informs him that gabriel is missing.

Scene 9: short scene where michael and uriel argue because michael said now with gabriel gone, someone has to be in charge...

Scene 10: Maggie brings Nina a record but Nina doesn't have a record player. Nina reveals she has a partner (Lindsay) and Maggie gets disappointed and leaves. She bumps into Crowley and Aziraphale on the way out and tells Aziraphale "you're an angel" lmao.

Scene 11: Crowley is PISSED PISSED PISSED the whole time, in fact the whole ep he looks like he's about to explode. We get the coffee shop scene HOWEVER right before that Crowley asks Aziraphale "what's wrong?" and Aziraphale says "why do you think something's wrong?" all nervously and Crowley says "you only ever call for 3 reasons: one, you're bored, two, you accomplished something and want to brag about it, and three, something's wrong. And you're using your 'something's wrong' voice." YUP THIS IS THE NEW 'i know what you smell like!'. we then get the naked man convo and crowley realizes immediately that aziraphale is stressed and says "is it something i can help with?" and aziraphale nods and THEY IMMEDIATELY GET UP and go to the bookshop with a plate of eccle cakes lmao. once crowley sees gabriel he and aziraphale start fighting. crowley gets mad at aziraphale and tells him he didn't command gabriel to answer properly. He yells at gabriel "WHAT ARE YOU DOING IN THE BOOKSHOP?!" and uses his hypnotism but gabriel just says "I'm dusting" and does the passive-aggressive feather duster motion. we get the "carved out for ourselves" convo .aziraphale says "fine, i would love for you to help, but if you won't, then feel free to leave". crowley says "i'm not helping" and storms off. he goes out into the street and says to himself "dont do anything rash... wait 10 seconds before doing anything..." but he's already emmitting smoke. We get a funny convo between nina and maggie who are watching crowley from the coffee shop. Nina's all "the man who drank six expressos! He's smoking!" and maggie says "well of course, he needs to calms down!" and nina says "no i mean actually smoking!" Crowley does the lightning thing (maggie thinks he was actually struck by lightning) and it ends up locking Maggie and Nina in the shop and killing their phones. Scene 12:

seroquel and muriel show michael and uriel the matchbox. It has "The Resurrectionist" on it. They are baffled that something material has made its way into heaven. We get the "Gabriel, I think he's gone to earth" line.

Scene 13:

Crowley's in his car and flies start buzzing. beelzebub appears in his car and teleports them both to hell using flies. This is the pic in the poster where beelz and crowley are sitting on chairs side by side. crowley is disgusted and spits some flies out lmao. beelzebub says he can come back and work for hell (and even get a promotion) if he finds gabriel, and that according to heaven, anyone involved in hiding gabriel will be erased from the book of life. crowley is teleported back to his car and begins panicking. Scene 14: nina and maggie bond while locked in the coffee shop. maggie doesn't drink wine and didn't party, nina opens up some wine and drinks it out of a teacup. she says her girlfriend makes her text if she's late by 10 minutes and that she must be freaking out right now. they see someone walking outside and try to ask her to help free them but she doesn't notice them.

Scene 15:

Crowley is mad in his car, speeding, doing the usual etc. Good Old-fashioned lover boy is playing!!!! Scene 16: Crowley arrives and Nina and Maggie catch his attention. They signal for help and he just goes "oh" and snaps his fingers, unlocking the coffee shop and bringing back the electricity. He walks off lmao. Nina and Maggie are weirded out, Nina groans because her phone is bombarded with texts from Lindsay asking where she is. Crowley enters and we get the "I'm back" scene. Aziraphale says he has to do the apology dance and Crowley is all "no way" at first but Aziraphale says "I had to do it in 1861, 1942..." and Crowley says fine and dances.

IT'S REALLY HILARIOUS. HE ENDS IT WITH A BALLERINA BOW LIKE THIS LMAO

So we get the "we need to hide him" convo and they decide to each use half a miracle so that their miracles wont be detected by heaven/hell. crowley will hide gabriel from heaven and aziraphale will hide gabriel from hell. they do the hand-holding thing (like in the pic). theyre not sure if it worked but crowley tests it by standing on a chair and poking at the space above gabriel LOL and there's a hint of a shield so he says it worked, and that he's sure heaven or hell didn't detect a thing. Gabriel is all "now i have two friends :D" and crowley says "We are not friends >:(" Scene 17: an alarm is blaring in heaven because CLEARLY they noticed the half miracle ahahahaha. michael, uriel and seraquel go to the globe and see purple smoke streaming out of the UK. they 'zoom in' and realize it's coming from aziraphale's bookshop.... (interesting that michael refers to aziraphale as a 'former angel' here)

End episode Soon I will summarize ep 2! Some hints for future eps too: -There's a big rain scene -There's an epic scene in the bookshop that took several weeks to film! (youve seen some hints in the trailer) -There are at least 3 jokes about aziraphale and crowley having sex that are scattered throughout the season LOL one of them is nina noticing crowley grumpy and saying "you look like mr. fell didn't let you top last night" and crowley's reaction is amazing. I'll say no more (for now)

[lulu2992]

From the Inquisitor to the Baptist: The Evolution of John Seed

From the early stages of the development of a video game to the day it gets released, its gameplay, story, and characters usually go through many modifications. Far Cry 5 is no exception to this rule, and thanks to promotional images, trailers, interviews, official side material, and even deleted content still available in the game’s files, we can get a glimpse of what Hope County and its residents used to be like. John Seed, in particular, seems to have undergone quite a few alterations, both physical and moral.

In these posts, I will be listing and discussing all the changes I noticed in John and explaining why the man who used to be known as “The Inquisitor” isn’t identical to “The Baptist” we met in Far Cry 5.

All the sources and references indicated by the superscript numbers will be given in the last post.

Part 1: Physical appearance, clothes, and tattoos (concept art, promotional content, and side material)

What seems to be the earliest portrait of the Seed family is a piece of concept art that Lead Graphic Production Artist Nick Arnett shared on Instagram¹:

As you can see, many things look different from what we are used to, from the Eden’s Gate cross (behind Joseph’s head) and logo (on the pulpit, with an eagle) to the Seed siblings’ outfits. The man on the right seems to be John, and he’s sporting a two-tone blue shirt that resembles the one he will end up wearing in the game, but he doesn’t have a vest. Instead of a belt, he has suspenders, and his pants and shoes look darker and more formal than his usual jeans and boots. He already has a beard and, while his hair is slicked back, as it is in the game, it’s a little longer. He doesn’t have any visible tattoos, but if you look closely, you’ll notice that he does have something on his hand: blood, running from his knuckles.

In May 2017, nine months before Far Cry 5 came out, the game was officially announced and a few promotional pictures were released, notably these two²:

But before that, we can see what John looked like at an even earlier stage of the game’s development, during the making of those two aforementioned pictures, thanks to early sketches and visuals shared by AmCo Studio³ and Fire Without Smoke⁴:

John’s iconic vest and sunglasses have appeared, and while his shirt became white, it’s now partially unbuttoned and the sleeves are rolled up, which is how he wears it in the game. As for his hair, it’s shorter than it was in the first family portrait and looks more similar to his final design. We still don’t see any tattoos on his arms, but he has a watch.

In the final version of what I would call the “Last-Supper-like” images, John looks even more like himself, but there are still a few differences:

Although they are not strictly identical to the ones he has in the game, he’s wearing sunglasses with blue lenses on his head. His shirt became blue again, his vest is striped, and he now has his “EG” (Eden’s Gate) earring and belt buckle, grey jeans, and bunker key around his neck. He’s also wearing a coat, but while, at first glance, it looks like the one we all know, the pattern isn’t the same; instead of planes, there are “EG” symbols on it. The buttons, however, are already golden and decorated with scales.

In the pictures, especially the first one, the siblings are associated with symbols: a crown for Joseph (on his jacket and napkin), a sword for Jacob (on his music box), a pair of scales for John (on his coat’s buttons and in the bread/cake), and intoxicating Bliss flowers for Faith, a reference to the Four Horsemen of the Apocalypse: Conquest, War, Famine, and Death, respectively, who. In John’s case, the scales could also be a nod to the fact he’s a lawyer. Indeed, scales are commonly used to symbolize justice.

This time, he finally has tattoos, and while some of them are the ones he will have in Far Cry 5, others are different. He already has small symbols on his fingers: an eye, a tongue, a hand with a drop of blood on it, a heart, a foot, a keyhole, and waves. The meaning of these symbols used to be a mystery to me, but it turns out they were inspired by Bible verses, specifically Proverbs 6:16-19⁵:

There are six things the Lord hates, seven that are detestable to him: haughty eyes, a lying tongue, hands that shed innocent blood, a heart that devises wicked schemes, feet that are quick to rush into evil, a false witness who pours out lies and a person who stirs up conflict in the community.

The flames on his right wrist will be in the game as well, but here, they are smaller. This tattoo seems to have been taken directly from this illustration:

It’s from a French (Breton, to be precise) collection of “Taolennoù Ar Mission” (literally “mission paintings” in Breton) by François-Marie Balanant, who was a priest, and it depicts a human soul being afflicted by the seven deadly sins⁶. “Taolennoù” were created in Brittany in the sixteenth century by the Catholic clergy in an effort to make religion more accessible to the faithful, some of whom were illiterate, with the help of drawings.

This particular image can be found on the Wikipedia page dedicated to the seven deadly sins⁷, which seems to have been the primary source of information and inspiration for several of John’s tattoos.

Clearly, the angelic figure with the dove, on his right hand, also directly comes from the drawing (upper left corner). This tattoo will later be redesigned and decorate the inner face of his left forearm.

As explained on Wikipedia, there used to be eight mortal sins, and their Latin names were:

Gula (Gluttony)

Luxuria (Lust)

Avaritia (Greed)

Tristitia (Sorrow)

Ira (Wrath)

Acedia (Sloth)

Vanagloria (Vainglory)

Superbia (Pride)

Tristitia and Acedia would later be combined, as well as Vanagloria and Superbia.

In the two promotional pictures, John has seven of these sins (except Acedia) tattooed on his left hand, as he does in Far Cry 5.

John also has letters on his fingers, but while, in the game, they spell “E-D-E-N” and “G-A-T-E”, here, we see G, G, S, E, W, P, and L, most likely the first letter of each deadly sin in English.

On his chest, instead of a scar and the mutilated word “SLOTH”, he has a tattoo. We see two crossed rifles, the number seven in tally marks (probably yet another reference to the deadly sins), what seems to be the words “Bros & Sis” above the design, and what probably is “Til Death” under it. It looks like an infantry tattoo, very similar to the example included below (center) by tattoo artist Garrett Tankersley, known as tat2garrett on Instagram⁸:

Finally, in one of the images, John is holding a tattoo machine. In the other, he’s holding a revolver. In the game, however, this weapon is nowhere to be seen.

Even though he will never use it in Far Cry 5, John was represented by this gun again on one of the game’s old official websites⁹:

At the time, as you can see, his title was also “The Inquisitor” instead of “The Baptist”.

On the PlayAsia blog, on a page dedicated to Far Cry 5, short information sheets about a few of the game’s characters were posted¹⁰. They look official, but since I have only ever seen them on this website, which was not created by Ubisoft, their origin and therefore the accuracy of the information they give are uncertain.

While most of what the picture says is either true (blue eyes, brown hair) or plausible (his height), John mathematically can’t be only 32 years old because he was already working as a lawyer about ten years before the events of the game, which is set in 2018. According to my research, it takes 7 years after graduating high school to become a licensed lawyer in the United States. In 2008, John couldn’t be younger than 18+7=25 years old, so it’s impossible for him to have been born after 1983. He could have skipped grades, but since this is never mentioned anywhere, I assume he didn’t and that he’s in fact older than 32 in Far Cry 5.

It’s possible, however, that he really was supposed to be 32 years old when the picture was made but that his backstory (and consequently his age) was then modified.

In the novel Far Cry Absolution, a few details are given about John’s appearance. For example, on page 6:

He was ten years older than [Mary May] and near six foot with brown hair and a beard that covered the lower half of his face.

Mary May is 29 (almost 30) in the novel, which makes John approximately 39 or 40 years old in the book. This age is more plausible, I think.

Then, on page 31:

John Seed, the younger brother of The Father, slighter in build, but cut from the same cloth. Both bearded and tattooed, and both with those all-seeing eyes that seemed to search through the dark with a kind of nocturnal prowess.

This isn’t the only time in the novel that John’s gaze is described as intense. The word “predatory” is even used on page 145.

Interestingly, and despite the fact it’s absent from Far Cry 5, the gun seen in his hand in one of the promotional pictures is mentioned in Absolution as well. It’s described as “a large revolver” on page 31 and as a “big magnum revolver” on page 57. He also uses a rifle “with a wood stock and bolt-action lever” (page 48) at one point, but this weapon isn’t in the game either.

Overall, aside from this detail, his physical description in the book is rather consistent with what we see in the game. And in this official picture posted in January 2018 to promote the book¹¹, he apparently looks the same as he does in Far Cry 5.

In the live-action short film Inside Eden’s Gate¹², Joseph is the only member of the Seed family who is played by the actor who also plays him in Far Cry 5, Greg Bryk. In the game, while John is played by Seamus Dever, in the movie, it’s another actor named Rob Evors who was cast in the role. His voice and face obviously don’t sound and look exactly like John’s, so these differences are not significant.

His outfit, however, has gone through several changes. I don’t know if the design was deliberately altered or if the clothes Rob Evors has in the film simply are the closest real-life equivalent to the ones John is wearing in the promotional pictures that the movie’s costume designers could get their hands on. Like in the development sketches for the “Last-Supper-like” images, his shirt is light-colored (but still blue, apparently) and he’s wearing his sunglasses normally, not on his head. They don’t seem to have blue lenses, but again, maybe the team could only find “regular” sunglasses. He has his Eden’s Gage belt buckle and earring, but instead of being grey, his coat, vest, pants, and shoes are brown/beige. The coat is decorated with “EG” logos, exactly like the one John is wearing in the promotional pictures, but lighter in color.

As for his tattoos, they are identical to the “old” ones we’ve seen so far, but two more are visible: the pair of scales on the side of his thumb and the snake (from the Taolennoù Ar Mission again, but uncoiled), which represents Envy, around his left wrist. These two new tattoos will be part of John’s final design in the game.

There’s another one between the snake and his watch, but it’s simply one of Rob Evors’¹³.

In the film, John’s tattoos were actually hand-painted¹⁴. Here’s a better look a them, from Makeup Artist Casey Lynn Stuckey’s Instagram account:

His sleeves are never rolled up in Inside Eden’s Gate, but it’s most likely because that would have meant covering up the actor’s actual tattoos and possibly painting more, so I suppose they thought it was more convenient to just hide them.

The last notable change regarding John’s appearance in the short film is that, for the first and seemingly only time, he’s wearing a shoulder holster, but his gun is not the revolver we’ve seen for far. Instead, it looks like a semi-automatic pistol, maybe a 1911. Since, in Inside Eden’s Gate, Joseph also has this type of gun and not the revolver he carries in Far Cry 5 (albeit rarely, and he never uses it), it’s possible that, once again, the team couldn’t find the right weapons for the movie and used the available props.

In the live-action TV spot “Anything Can Happen, Everything Will”¹⁵, John is this time played by model and actor Jon Oswald, who jokingly described the character as “the asshole in the Gucci trench coat” when he shared the video on his Instagram account¹⁶.

John’s outfit looks identical to Rob Evors’ in Inside Eden’s Gate (except the shoes and the holster, it seems), so it’s likely that they just reused the same clothes. Like in the film, John’s sunglasses (which are not blue) aren’t on his head; he’s wearing them. His hair is a bit different, but it’s probably simply because Jon Oswald’s hairstyle looked close enough to John’s and they thought it didn’t need to be modified, so I don’t think this “change” is significant.

Thanks to the pictures that Mackenzie Lawrén Johnson (better known as Kenz Lawrén), who plays Faith Seed in the short film and the TV spot, posted on Instagram¹⁷, we can have a better look at him and his tattoos.

They haven’t changed much compared to the previous ones, but we can now see a goat (a symbol for Lust, also directly from the Taolennoù Ar Mission) next to the snake on his left arm. In the game, the goat will disappear from his hand, be redesigned, and end up on his right forearm. We see two other tattoos in the picture, but they simply are Jon Oswald’s¹⁸.

In the image below, drawn by Anthony Winn, who made storyboards for the TV spot¹⁹, the character on the far right (who is not Joseph), wearing a vest and sunglasses, and standing next to a woman who is probably Faith, appears to be an early version of John. This time, he’s holding a rifle, different from the one described in Absolution, and not a handgun. For once, his sister is armed as well.

In The Book of Joseph²⁰, John, as a child, is described as “the best looking, the least odd” of the Seed brothers, which is why the narrator, Joseph himself, believes he was adopted first after they were sent to an orphanage. When they meet again as adults, Joseph says his younger brother is “strikingly handsome, elegant”, wears “tailored suits” and very expensive shoes, has gleaming hair, shiny teeth, and manicured hands. He also writes that, as John Duncan (the name of his adoptive parents), “physically, he was society’s very model of success”. Psychologically, however, it was another story… but this will be discussed later. Although the John Seed we meet in the game isn’t exactly the same person as John Duncan was anymore, he’s still “elegant” and seems to take care of his appearance. Joseph doesn’t mention tattoos, but it’s likely that John got them later, after the Project was created.

An official guide for Far Cry 5, by Prima Games, was released alongside it. In the book, which was written in 2017, we get to see what John looked like when the game was still in development.

This design is very close to the final one, but for some reason, his sunglasses, bunker key, earring, and tattoos are all (temporarily) gone. However, the “SLOTH” scar has now appeared on his chest instead of the tattoo he previously had, even though it’s a bit closer to his collarbone than it will be in the game. His outfit and facial features look slightly different, but this is also true for many other characters in the guide.

On IGN’s YouTube channel, a video titled “Far Cry 5: Why John Seed Is Your Charmingly Deadly Enemy” was uploaded in February 2018²¹. In it, we get a glimpse of an early version of the “You have been Marked” TV broadcast²², and although the setting looks different, John’s appearance is very close to his final one.

By the way, if you look at the noticeboard behind the TV, you’ll see that the Testicle Festival was supposed to take place in 2017 instead of 2018. When this early in-game footage was recorded, Far Cry 5 was probably still scheduled to come out in September 2017 (which is what the first rumors said and could also explain why all the calendars in the game suggest we are in September).

In the thumbnail of the YouTube video, John looks exactly like himself:

He does too in the “Four Horsemen of the Apocalypse” artwork²³, this promotional screenshot²⁴, and this poster²⁵:

And in a trailer posted by Ubisoft three weeks before the release of Far Cry 5, a “character spotlight”²⁶, John has his final design as well. The only difference is that, although the game was about to come out, they still called him “The Inquisitor” instead of “The Baptist”.

Then, on March 27, 2018, Far Cry 5 was released.

To be continued…

[liquidcrystalsky]

this post marks 3 hours until side order comes out.

a reminder that i will wait a minimum of 3 days to post anything side order at all. after that, things that have already been shown off in trailers and promotional material will be tagged "#side order" and anything not shown in the promotional material will be tagged "#side order spoilers" for at least a week

ask box will be closed until i finish it lol