#but ends up also giving her the pearl which she actually cherishes

[everlarking-always]

“I had a dream, though,” I say, thinking back. “I was following a mockingjay through the woods. For a long time. It was Rue, really. I mean, when it sang, it had her voice.” “Where did she take you?” he says, brushing my hair off my forehead. “I don’t know. We never arrived.” I say. “But I felt happy.” ... Peeta pulls the chain with the gold disk from around his neck. He holds it in the moonlight so I can clearly see the mockingjay. Then his thumb slides along a catch I didn’t notice before and the disc pops open. It’s not solid, as I had thought, but a locket. And within the locket are photos. […] “Your family needs you, Katniss,” Peeta says. My family. My mother. My sister. And my pretend cousin Gale. But Peeta’s intention is clear. That Gale really is my family, or will be one day, if I live. That I’ll marry him. So Peeta’s giving me his life and Gale at the same time. To let me know I shouldn’t ever have doubts about it. Everything. That’s what Peeta wants me to take from him. ... He puts the chain with the locket around my neck, then rests his hand over the spot where our baby would be. “You’re going to make a great mother, you know,” he says. ... As I drift off, I try to imagine that world, somewhere in the future, with no Games, no Captiol. A place like the meadow in the song I sang to Rue as she died. Where Peeta’s child could be safe. ....

[pathetichimbos]

Hi! I’m pretty new in the fandom but I noticed you wanted us to share some headcanons of our dear boy so here’s some of mine!

He likes the colour amber (idk why but I think yellow or green fits him)

He makes little things for his Mama from time to time (or whenever he has the time) such as fashioning a wire bracelet (he makes sure it’s not rusty or anything) with little beads he managed to find around the farm and shyly gift it to Luda Mae

Luda Mae wears them on different days and sometimes keeps them in a box to avoid losing them

Thomas loves rainy days.

Being in an unforgivingly hot climate, he cherishes the cooling sensation whenever the rain comes (also because it’s easier to wash off all the blood on him and/or around the farm)

He does it by either sitting on the ground outside of their house with his head up, eyes closed in bliss or standing up

Luda Mae always calls him inside, telling him he’ll be sick but she also knows how relieving it can be

Hoyt’s an ass but there are times where he praises Tommy for his personal work (if he’s feeling nice) and Tommy always holds on to those moments

Tommy likes crows, for some reason

Doesn’t go near them but will always throw crumbs of bread or more to them and watch as they peck the ground

He might or might not be secretly happy when one comes near him willingly or even perches on him

Sorry if I couldn’t share any Tommy and S/O related headcanons😅 I believe there are so many good ones in the fandom already and you are one of the best at writing for our dear Tommy

As a little thing, here’s a fanart I did a while ago of Tommy https://www.tumblr.com/macabreblublu/731719818030546944/ok-but-ive-got-a-funny-crush-on-this-dude

Hope this brightens up your day/night you lovely person! 💙

Oh your brain is so wrinkly. You have so many big braincelled ideas.

---

♡ Thomas loves warm earth colors, and the colors you picked out are exactly right. Not only do they coincide with nature, but they actually tend to make people feel safer and more secure, and happier as well! And after everything Thomas has been through, I can see him seeking those things in abundance, and so, without even realizing it, he ended up clinging to the colors that brings those out.

♡ Thomas started making little trinkets and jewelry when he was a kid, as he's always had access to various tools and resources to do it, and he's always enjoyed working with his hands. Most of the time he ends up either keeping the trinket himself in a small shoebox he keeps in his closet, but if something turns out really nice, he gives it to Luda Mae who fusses over it and happily adds it to her collection. It goes straight in her jewelry box, which now has a mix of priceless antique jewelry and Thomas' handmade trinkets. She wears them often, with and without her other jewelry, and treats them as if they're just as precious as the few pearls or diamonds she owns.

♡ Rain is always a blessing in small southern communities, it waters their crops, prevents wildfires (though lightning loves to cause those), floods their shallow ponds and creeks, and relieves some of the heat that constantly plagues the towns. So, rain is already precious, and Thomas loves the rain. He's gotten caught in the occasional shower more than once while walking to and from the slaughterhouse, and it always seems to take him twice as long to get home when he does. It provides relief from the heat, and on his skin, the cool rain is soothing on the irritation, as most of the time skin conditions cause painful itching and burning that the cool water helps ease. (I also believe he uses cold wet rags to provide a similar relief)

♡ This is something in particular I'm passionate about. I see so, so, many people make Hoyt out to be abusive to his family, and Thomas in particular, and it's just so wrong. He's an ass, for sure, he'll poke fun at Thomas and has definitely done wrong by him, but he's by no means abusive. Thomas is like a son to him, and vice versa. We can see a clear shift in Thomas' behavior towards the end of The Beginning after Hoyt gives him the positive feedback he craves. At the beginning, he's hesitant, and won't join his own family in the dining room for dinner, (most likely due to self isolation and poor self esteem making him believe he doesn't deserve to join them at the table- the entire town treated him as less than human, and after you live with something like that for so long, you eventually start to believe it). Towards the end of the movie, after Hoyt gives him the positive affirmation on his new 'face', Thomas becomes more confident, not needing to be invited into the dining room by Hoyt, simply feeling more assured that he does belong there.

♡ Crows are so smart. Birds in general are. (Pigeons EXCLUDED- I see your eyes, birds, I know you're not real...). When I was sixteen I had developed a cult of birds at my apartment complex that followed me around and would even land on me and rest on my shoulders until they were ready to leave. All it took was a little food and kind attitude and they trusted me enough to hang around. I can see the same thing happening with Thomas. He loves animals and nature, I mean come on, he lives on a farm, and just because people rejected him doesn't mean that animals did as well. In fact, I can see Thomas taking refuge with the various animals the Hewitt family has. They were practically his only friends, and he has such a calm demeanor about him, I can easily see birds being naturally attracted to him. And crows are probably some of the smartest birds, so I have no doubt he has a cult of birds of his own that hang around the Hewitt residence.

Thanks for sending in the headcanons!! <3

[mjorthehighway]

Fuck it I'm gonna do the ask game completely wrong and use it as a chance to yell about my OC op I'm very sorry. And I'm gonna do it in a reblog cause I've been desperate to talk about them so AHH here it is

The Chieftain (Also known as Tall Stalks Mint Leaves) (art by me)

Under a read more so I don't take up too much space for this

1: She lives in the garbage wastes with her tribe of scavengers. Specifically the post artificer/spearmaster wastes (so no more acid lmao)

2: She is slightly bigger than average. She would stand about a half head taller than the survivor, making her just about the size if not slightly bigger than an iterator puppet (she slug buff)

3: Mint was born wild, but got separated from her parents in some flood water, washing her into the garbage wastes. A scavenger who had recently (Hatched?? Birthed???? Whatever scavs do) her own children, took pity on poor baby Mint and adopted her into the tribe. It was a rough time at the beginning but Mint eventually earned her place in the tribe, later on becoming their leader after proving her worth by bringing the old Chieftain the head of a Red Lizard that had been terrorizing the local area. This is also how she got her scars.

4: Mint is the leader of the tribe of scavengers in the garbage wastes. She commonly wears the mask of a King vulture to show her status (and to also hide her face from the squeamish children). She has proven time and time again her resourcefulness and tenacity, often taking hunting parties to far regions to bring back food/tech/pearls/knowledge, assisted by her handmade harpoon. She often visits moon and although she does not have the mark of communication, has worked out a rudimentary system of gestures and expressions in order to communicate. She also ensures safety of all slugcats who pass through her region (no giving more slugs trauma) and has a soft spot for any young of any species.

5: Although Mint is a kind slug, her status is absolute. The scavengers know this and respect her authority. At the beginning she was treated as an outcast, but her scav mother held on hope that with enough time and training, the young slug would be able to prove their worth. Any scavengers who doubted her shut up the moment this small green slug limped into the old chieftain's chamber, coated in blood that was mostly not theirs and an eye torn to shreds, holding the head of their greatest enemy. Her tribesmen view her as a great leader, who has the power to not only protect them, but the wisdom to make good decisions for the group.

6: Scavengers everywhere are Mint's "friends". She has not come into contact with many slugcats, and if she does it's mainly in passing at tolls. The closest thing to a friend she has is Looks to the Moon, but Mint can't leave to go visit her as often as she'd like.

7: Since Mint is the leader of the tribe she hardly ever has any time for herself. Most of her duties require being around others, so alone time is something she values and cherishes.

8: I would imagine at the official start of her campaign she would be just about to enter her senior years. She's lived a full life but she still has some energy to burn off before her cycle ends.

9: Her takes place right at the end of the Gourmand campaign, canonically the player might actually start right as the Gourmand returns to the outer expanse.

10: I imagine Mint has a similar diet to the gourmand, essentially eating anything that is available (but only getting half points for meat) with a food bar similar to the Survivor's.

11: She doesn't have any special abilities, but would start with a special item which is her Harpoon. A larger piece of sharpened rebar thats been attached to a cord that also attaches around Mint's waist. She has incredible throwing power and uses her harpoon to platform/hunt and she never loses it because it can always be reeled back in. It functions almost exactly how the King vulture harpoon works (but slug powered). She cannot throw normal spears/explody spears/ect but in return her harpoon would have the single highest stab damage of any slug in the game (I.E it would take 2 hits to kill a green lizard). It has its drawbacks, you need to be precise and take your shots wisely, as it'll be a moment before you can reel your harpoon back in.

12: Mint often travels over to the Shoreline to see Looks to the Moon. Much like Spearmaster and SRS they communicate via gestures and expressions. Mint often tells her about her travels and victories, and Moon is simply glad for the company.

13: Mint doesn't care much for Pebbles, or his so called "solution" she's got her tribesmen to worry about. It's of course up to the player if she decides to finally ascend.

14: Her truest wish is to find a successor and finally retire. She takes her role too seriously to leave it in the hands of a scav who might be a good choice at the beginning, but bad overall in the long run. Mint longs for retirement and to finally be able to go out and explore outside of the confines of her territory and to see the world, and maybe, just maybe, meet some more of her kind. She never wants to seem ungrateful, but she does have fond memories of her birth family and misses them very much. Ultinately she desires to be with her own kind, but not until she knows her new family will be taken care of after she's gone.

15: More will be explained in the final answer >:3

16: Mint would absolutely adopt and protect any small slug/scav she finds. It would be cool if in her campaign you could find not only baby slugcats, but baby scavengers! I imagine they'd be the same size as slugpups but would be able to hold more things and would be more jumpy/climby. Maybe instead of attaching to your back they could also cling to your belly?? Cute idea.

17: "I am leader of this tribe. Those who are my enemies fear me, those who are my friend respect me"

18: A very strong and capable slug. Wise beyond her years and resourceful.

19: The Chieftain achievement, if it isn't obvious lmao. I wanted a slugcat that was just automatically loved by scavs.

20: Usually Mint sleeps in a shelter with a few scavengers. They usually swap tales or general gossip throughout the tribe to wind down before snuggling up to sleep.

21: Being a leader means she's generally fearless. It's her job to lead the charge into battle and inspire the others with her confidence. The rot does cause her lot of discomfort however, they've lost too many young to the rotten tendrils. Little does she know the brother long legs she's encountered are the smallest of the mobile rot cysts.

22: Mint lost her left eye to a red lizard when she was young. This however doesn't seem to deter her aim, she has a very strong and swift throwing arm. The scavengers whisper rumors amongst themselves that she uses a notch in her mask to help herself line up shots. Other than that, she's abnormally strong for a slugcat. Whether it's a genetic defect or the results of her upbringing is unknown.

23: Mint learned language from Scavengers so she mainly uses facial gestures and hand movements to communicate. She also knows how to draw, and how to convey information through drawings, she's just not very good at it. However, being a slugcat, she does let out feral hisses/growls when in the heat of battle or asserting herself to her tribesmen. Her howls will summon scavs from several rooms over to come and assist her in battle.

24: Mint's starts with her harpoon in one hand, and a King Vulture mask in the other. She's attached to the harpoon a pair of lanterns and a pearl that holds a significance to her.

25: Mint's campaign would start in the garbage wastes inside of the scavenger stronghold, much like artificer. You see Mint and an Elite Scavenger standing on the center platform. Mint holds a mask in her hand and gives it to the Elite, and the scavengers celebrate. The insinuation is that Mint has finally chosen her successor and is now free to leave the garbage wastes and explore. As she leaves towards the industrial system several scavengers follow her for a short while before stopping and waving goodbye to her. This is where the game prompts would explain to the player how to use her harpoon. The intended route would be through industrial system, all the way up the wall. The player would find that high threat enemies like the red lizards, king vultures, and large centipedes are relatively absent from the regions directly connected to the wastes, presumably due to her and her clans activities, but as she goes further away from home the regions would get much more dangerous. Wherever the player goes however, the scavengers are there to assist you. Near always the player can find at least a scav or two following them around.

Her bodyguards would abandon her once she gets closer to the top of the wall, and closer to the entrance of Five Pebbles. Once inside of Pebbles' can he would bestow the mark of communication upon her and remark on how she's very different from the last creatures he encountered (an allusion to Artificer and Gourmand) and he encourages her to communicate to her people to stay off of his structure. He makes it clear that if she or any of the scavengers enter his can again he will kill them. In return however Pebbles' gives her an important piece of information: He had unlocked the gates to the outside of his facility for the last slugcat that entered his can. Pebbles ascertains that since Mint and the other slugcat are the same species, perhaps she'd like to follow him and go far, far, away from his can.

Thrown out of the room, the player can choose to either go immediately to the outer expanse, or decide to pay a visit to her old friend first. Along the way as the player sleeps in shelters they will be treated to dreams that detail her backstory. Still images of Mint eating with her parents, when she was washed away from them, or of them holding the head of the red lizard. Some of the later dreams would be playable scenes where Mint and a group of scavs take down a threat.

Once the player finally makes their way through Shoreline to Looks to the Moon she remarks happily that they're able to communicate more freely now and asks how her visit with Pebbles went. There's alot of assumed dialog from Mint during the interaction, but the player cannot hear or see it. Moon then asks if it's finally ok to read the pearl on Mint's Harpoon. "If my memory serves me effectively still, you gestured it was the property of your progenitors. You seem very careful with it, but since I feel I may not see you after this I would love to read it! I promise I will be very careful!" This seems to have been a point of conversation between the two for a while, and you get the sense that Mint and Moon have been meeting each other for a long time.

If the player places the harpoon at her feet she gently picks up the pearl and reads thus: "Oh! I can see why your kin cherished this as so, but I have no idea how they could have known the contents. It's a beautifully taken photograph of dense foliage. I cannot tell if the natural fauna is growing outside, or perhaps if this was some kind of artificial grow house, but the plant life pictured is very green and lush. The leaves are moist with dew and tiny yellow flowers dot between the stalks. Speaking of the stalks, towards the center of the image is what seems to be the same plant species, but they've grown so tall the leaves of the plant are cut out of the frame. You can see the shade it provides to the plants below it, which has seemingly allowed several more flowers to bloom beneath it. Perhaps the flowers prefer the shade of their taller brethren?"

Ah I am sorry for rambling so much, dear friend. This is just quite a beautiful photograph, and I regret I cannot project it myself for you to see. I hope my words have been enough dear friend, especially since you can now understand them... thank you for showing me."

After leaving the Shoreline the player is left with the choice of either ascending, or following the Gourmand's path towards the Outer Expanse. If the player chooses ascension, they are met with a similar scene as to the survivor, embracing two slugcats which are assumed to be her parents before the scene ends.

If the player chooses to go to the Outer Expanse and find the Gourmand's clan of slugcats a scene plays where we see Mint approaching the group from a distance. She looks haggard, several wrinkles crease her body and we can see she has reached old age. Before fully sighted by the group she drops her harpoon and the vulture mask (if the players enter the Expanse with one). Approaching the group of slugcats she is warmly welcomed by them, the slugpups not seeming to mind her scarred face. In the background you can see that several slugcats are moving things around, and gathering in groups. This is where she meets the Gourmand who gestures to her that they are leaving soon and offers his paw for her to join them all on their adventure for a new home and Mint is lead off, seemingly happy to finally be among friends again before the cutscene ends.

Rain World Slugcat OC Ask Game/Questionnaire

if you want to talk about your sluggies and don't know where to start, or want other people to ask about them, this is the ask game for you! iterator oc ask game

Where does your slugcat live? What is the region like? Do they like living there?

What is the size of your slugcat? Compared to the average? Compared to an iterator puppet (if applicable)?

Where does your slugcat come from? Born wild? Descendant of a purposed organism? A purposed organism themselves?

If your slugcat lives in a colony, what is their role in it?

If your slugcat lives in a colony, do they generally get along with their colony?

Does your slugcat have any friends? Within their own species or outside of their species?

Does your slugcat prefer company or to be alone?

How old is your slugcat? (Relatively or exact age?)

Where does your slugcat place within the canon timeline?

What is your slugcat's diet? How much do they have to eat?

Does your slugcat have any special abilities?

Has your slugcat ever met an iterator? If so, what do they think of them?

Is your slugcat aware of the cycle and the Great Problem? If so, do they have any opinions on it?

If your slugcat could have any one wish come true, what would it be?

Your slugcat meets one of the canon slugcats/iterators. How would the interaction go?

If your slugcat were to meet a baby creature of any kind (slugpup or other), how would they react to it?

How would your slugcat describe themselves?

How would you describe your slugcat?

What are the inspirations behind your slugcat, if any?

How does your slugcat spend their time in a shelter, once they get there? Do they fall asleep immediately, or do anything else, if they sleep at all?

What is your slugcat afraid of? What is their biggest fear at all?

Is your slugcat afflicted with any conditions (illness, injury, anatomy quirks, etc.)? How do they live with these conditions?

How does your slugcat speak? Verbal noises? Body gestures? Drawing? etc.

If your slugcat could have an inventory of three items, what would they carry/wear?

Describe your slugcat's campaign, as if it were a playable character. Would it be difficult? What type of regions would the player travel through? What is the story?

[sage-nebula]

I’ve been thinking about what I would have liked a sequel to InuYasha to be like, since the official sequel has been such a disappointment (to say the least), so I figured I’d go ahead and post my thoughts. 

To start with, we’re keeping Moroha, and she would be the actual main character. She’s the daughter of the previous two main protagonists, her personality steals the show on the regular anyway, and the fact that she’s part demon while also having sacred priestess powers makes her far more interesting than simply doing half-demons 2.0. I’m not sorry.

So, the story. I imagine that hundreds and hundreds of years back, like well before Inuyasha was ever sealed to the Tree of Ages and all that drama with Kikyou and Naraku happened, there was a prophecy made by some kind of deity (or deity-like) figure. The prophecy was something like, when a demon had a child with a powerful priestess, that child would then end the warring period between demons and mortals—and would, in fact, put an end to demons altogether. In other words, the child of the demon and shrine maiden would lead to the modern era, where mortals still roam freely but demons are (typically) nowhere to be seen. Not many knew about this prophecy, but very powerful and high-ranking demons did (e.g. Kirinmaru, possibly Inuyasha and Sesshoumaru’s father), and because they didn’t want demons to disappear from the earth for very obvious reasons (even though the prophecy wasn’t clear on how that would happen), they made it a point to try to stop the birth of such a child from ever happening—or, if it did happen, they made it a point to kill said child as an infant before they could ever grow. 

Hundreds of years passed. For a time there was great concern over whether Kikyou would bear the child that would bring about the prophecy, given that she was a powerful priestess (the most powerful priestess) who had several half-demons interested in her. Fears waned a little when Inuyasha decided to become human like Kikyou, forsaking his demon half and therefore rendering the two of them unable to bring the prophecy to pass (and there was some argumentation over whether a half-demon could bring the prophecy to pass anyway, but the danger was too great to risk it in the minds of those who knew), but then all of that drama went down before he could, and Kikyou died before she could have a child with anyone, so it became a moot point.

Regardless, those hundreds of years passed, Kikyou was reborn as Kagome, Kagome and Inuyasha fell in love, and they ended up giving birth to a child, Moroha, who inherited both demonic powers from her father and sacred powers from her mother. And while it’s not as if someone was watching Inuyasha and Kagome on CCTV to stalk their every action, other parts of the prophecy (such as the full moon and sun both being present in the sky at the moment of the birth, which happened just as day broke, or stars falling the night of conception) lined up and made it clear that the prophecied birth had come to pass. Of course, neither Inuyasha nor Kagome knew of the prophecy, nor did anyone else in the village . . . but Kirinmaru, as mentioned before, did.

So Kirinmaru shows up some time after Moroha’s birth, when she’s still a baby, with the intent on killing her and probably her parents as well, for good measure, so they can’t have another one. He’s not alone; I’m unsure of whether Sesshoumaru would be with him or not in this version (because I feel Sesshoumaru would have complicated feelings on the issue; he doesn’t want demons to disappear but also he’s doubtful Inuyasha’s child could make that happen), but Kirinmaru would at least have his top four lackeys and possibly many other demons with him. Enough so that everyone in the village would be at significant risk. Of course Kagome and Inuyasha aren’t going down without a fight, but also a battleground is no place for a baby, so Kagome takes Moroha through the well (which we’ll say was working at this point in time) in order to have her family watch her. This serves two purposes: It gives Moroha a loving family to take care of her, with Kagome herself ensuring that happens, AND it allows us to show Kagome’s family after giving a frick about her potentially dying, which Yashahime failed to show with their non-reaction to her potentially having a child.

Of course, Kagome’s family doesn’t want her to return to the feudal era if there’s some huge battle going down, but Kagome promises that she will survive, and she will come back to get Moroha. She promises. So her family agrees to babysit Moroha, and Kagome returns to the feudal era . . . only to not come back. As a result, Moroha is raised by Souta and his family, and cherished by her grandma and great-grandpa, even though there is also an ever-present sorrow and grief because they believe Kagome must have died in the battle she spoke of. And Moroha does feel the love from her family, but also recognizes that they also see her dead mother whenever they look at her, so there’s that, too.

With that said, Kagome isn’t dead! She returns to the feudal era and things are indeed going badly (in a flashback we get plenty of “INUYASHAAAA” “KAGOMEEEEE” for old time’s sake), but I don’t want to kill either her or Inuyasha off. So instead, we’ll bring the Rainbow Pearls back into it. Like in the actual sequel, Inuyasha and Kagome end up sealed in one of the Rainbow Pearls. But the reason here is because Kirinmaru finds out that Kagome sent Moroha away to a place where he can no longer reach her, and he’s furious about it. But he also feels that, when she grows up, she will seek out her parents. So he figures, he’ll take her parents, seal them in a state where they can’t escape him, and then use them as bait. He’ll lure Moroha to him and kill her then. It’s a perfect plan. (And while I would want to seal Inuyasha and Kagome into the Tree of Ages since that’s their tree, at the same time, Kirinmaru can’t exactly take a whole ass tree with him. I mean, he could, but it’d kill it and probably end the sealing power. So.)

Years pass, Moroha grows. She can pretty much pass for a human girl aside from her fangs and her super senses / abilities, so she doesn’t feel like too much of an outcast in the human world. She's a little older than in Yashahime, maybe around 16, and as such was able to do at least a year or two of high school and has a few years experience in archery and kendo clubs as a result. But though she doesn’t feel like an outcast, Moroha has always been plagued by the feeling that there’s more to her story than she and her family know. She feels like there’s something missing, like the assumption that her mother died just isn’t right. This draws her back to the Bone-Eaters Well time and time again, and the final time (the one we see) Souta follows her there. They talk about Moroha’s feelings and her desire to know, and Souta tells her he think that she can make the trip—and that she should, if she can’t rest. He gives her Inuyasha’s robe of the fire rat (which I forgot to mention Moroha was swaddled in when Kagome took her through), as well as her bow and quiver from archery, and some other provisions. Then Moroha jumps through and returns to the feudal era.

So the main plot, or at least the one that Moroha is aware of at first, would be Moroha trying to figure out what happened to her parents, where they are, et cetera (and people like Miroku, Sango, and Shippou bursting out crying when they see that Inuyasha and Kagome’s daughter did survive and is all grown up and looks so much like her parents). Then in the background of that is the prophecy and whether Moroha actually will carry it out or not. My thought is that she would, but it’s not that she kills all demons, because that’s pretty grim. Rather, it’s that the Rainbow Pearls would ultimately be used to seal or suppress demonic powers, with the implication that demons or people with demonic powers are very much still actually in the modern era, but they’re just sleeping, and could come back at any time. And perhaps this would be done at the end of her life rather than at the end of the series, I don’t know. But basically it would be written to explain the discrepancy of why there were demons and magic in the feudal era, but no longer in the modern era. It would make Kagome going back to the feudal era, meeting Inuyasha and building a family with him, something that actually needed to happen for her era to exist as it did at all. (So, a stable time loop, sort of.)

As for Sesshoumaru having daughters, I honestly really don’t think it’s necessary, but if he did they should be side characters (as in they can be part of the main group, but their story shouldn’t be the primary focus), and Kagura should be their mother. Since Kagura died, if we do still want them to be half-demons, then perhaps it could be that Sesshoumaru traveled to the modern era himself somehow to look for Moroha after Kagome sent her there (I don’t think the well would work for him, but this is a show about magic, he could find a way). He didn’t find Moroha, but he found Kagura’s modern reincarnation, a human woman who looked startlingly like her. He followed her around to figure out what was up with her, she thought he was a creep (albeit a very pretty creep), he eventually decides to leave her because she’s her own person and not Kagura, she follows him because she wants to know where he’s going, she ends up going back to the feudal era with him on accident, they travel together for a while, fall in love, have babies, etc. So I guess in that sense the mother of Sesshoumaru’s daughters wouldn’t actually be Kagura, just like Kagome is not Kikyou, but regardless, she’d be as close to Kagura as he could actually get and that’s better than the alternative that the fifteenth episode of Yashahime suggested, so I’d take it. (Granted I would have taken just about anything over that, but still.) With this scenario, Towa and Setsuna (if we kept those names) would be younger than Moroha, and would have been raised together in the feudal era. If they end up traveling with Moroha, perhaps it’s because Sesshoumaru sent them to do it by suggestion. The twins think they’re just ~bonding~ with their cousin, or at least helping her survive in an era she’s not familiar with, but also their father is using them to spy on her to see if there’s any chance she could bring about the prophecy.

So yeah, that’s what I got. If I’d been asked to come up with a sequel to Inuyasha, that’s what I would have written. Of course there are more details that would need to be ironed out, but nonetheless, we’d have a clear goal from the jump, the correct character would be the main character, and there wouldn’t be any child grooming or pedophilia. Win-win-win, honestly. We could have had it all.

[hide-in-imagination]

"Roads That Cross... on a Day Off"

You can read the previous chapters here: (1), (2), (3), (4), (5), (6), (7), (8), (9), (10), (11), (12), (13), (14), (15), (16), (17), (18), (19), (20), (21)

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Inspired by 'Call it what you want', which is honestly THE simbar song. The author regrets nothing.

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Simón’s left arm was asleep.

He noticed it the moment he woke up, but he refused to move. The prettiest head of blonde locks was using it as a pillow, and who was he to disturb her?

It was a rare occurrence that he woke up before Ámbar. She was a natural early riser while he liked to sleep as much as possible. He usually woke up from her movements as she started her day, or— and this was his favorite— with some caress or kisses from her part. He could start becoming a morning person if that was what awaited him.

So, uncommon as it was, he wanted to cherish this, just this, having her close in complete calmness. Ámbar’s back was to his chest, their legs close together, and his free arm was around her middle, holding her against him. He wanted to run his hand over her skin, or maybe take hers in his, but he didn’t want to risk anything putting an end to this moment.

He fleetingly wondered how long his arm could go without blood flow before it did some damage.

Oh well, who cared.

He couldn’t see her face spooning her like this, but he noticed when she started waking because the even rhythm of her breathing he had been following changed. She began to move, stretching slightly in a way that pressed her back more into him. Simón did hold her hand then and kissed her shoulder. She hummed softly and turned her head to look at him.

“Good morning, sleeping beauty,” he said with a smile.

“Good morning,” she murmured, her voice groggy from sleep. She rolled to rest her head on his chest, which his left arm appreciated. He laid on his back. “What time is it?” She asked after a moment of just relishing the closeness.

Simón extended his right arm over to the nightstand to check his phone. “Almost eleven.”

“Eleven?!” Ámbar jumped, as if he’d said four in the afternoon. “Wow, I hadn’t slept in this much in a long time…” She said, recovering from the surprise. She brought her gaze to his with a coquettish look. “You really wore me out.”

Simón smiled smugly and gave a small shrug. “Well, what can I say? I like to be very thorough,” he said playfully. “Or… maybe all of this was part of my evil plan to get you to let me sleep until a decent hour.”

She raised her brows. “Decent hour? By the time we go downstairs, we might as well have lunch.”

He gave her a look. “You’re totally exaggerating, it’s not that late.” He turned on his side and ran his knuckles softly over her right arm. “And anyway, I wasn’t planning on going to the dining room.” He smiled at her. “How does breakfast in bed sound?”

Her eyes sparkled. “Really?”

“Of course. It’s the least my queen deserves.”

She tilted her head to the side with the cutest melted smile.

“Aww.” She cupped his cheek and leaned in to kiss him. “I love you.”

He gave her another peck. “I love you more.”

She drew back with a gasp in fake outrage. “You do not want to start that discussion, mister.”

“Oh really?” He said, playing along.

“Yep, because you’re going to lose,” she said confidently. “So better give up now while you still can.”

He smirked. “Or what?”

Ámbar’s eyes narrowed with challenge just as he wanted. With the hint of a smile on her lips, she rose and sat astride him, keeping his gaze from above.

“Or I’ll have to show you just how wrong you are.”

Simón kept his mask of a straight face. “That remains to be seen.”

One beat later, he went and flipped her over, making her explode into giggles that he captured with kisses in between his own smiles.

Maybe breakfast could wait.

*****************

The instant that “Esta Noche No Paro” stopped playing, claps and cheers replaced the music. Gastón was fascinated with the final product. It was magical to see everything put together when he’d been right there, in front of the camera, not knowing the shots that would come out of it. He was happy to see that both his dance moves and the choreography’s synch had come out great, but even more than that, he was happy to see the twinkle on Matteo’s eyes and the huge grin that split his face in two. They’d watched the video at the Roller with Delfi, Jazmín, Pedro and Ramiro, and Gastón could honestly say that Matteo and Delfi deserved all the praises that came their way— The video was amazing.

Everyone was very excited, so much so that Pedro gave them all smoothies on the house. Gastón had missed hanging out with his friends like this, a lot. Just their cheery conversations were sweeter than any drink. It was good to be back, no matter how short the visit.

The group dispersed after a while, everyone continuing their daily routines. Gastón and Matteo stayed on a table, Matteo still stuck on the video.

“It’s just… I really think if there is one person that should be receiving praises right now, it’s Luna,” he said, half awed by her, half lamenting she wasn’t there. “I mean, she came up with the video, shemade it happen… I really don’t know how to thank her for all of this.”

Gastón looked at his friend and pretended to think for a second. “Mmm, I don’t know, maybe you could give her a bouquet of flowers,” he proposed, which Matteo seemed to like. “… And, while you’re at it, get back together with her.”

Matteo immediately became self-conscious. Gastón pushed forward. “Come on, dude, I’ve been here for a total of two days and it’s already obvious to me that you two still care about each other. Can you explain to me why you’re not together yet?”

Matteo averted his gaze, looking disheartened. “… A lot of things happened. Every time we get closer, we end up hurting each other and… Luna doesn’t feel the same way anymore.”

Gastón looked at him in disbelief. “Are you kidding me? Matteo, she organized a whole music video for you. To cheer you up, to make youhappy. What else do you want? For her to write it in the sky?”

Tentatively, Matteo brought his gaze to his. “You really think so?”

“Everyone thinks so,” he declared. “You just need to gather the courage and go for it.”

Hope and worry mixed in Matteo’s expression. He looked down, seeming deep in thought. Gastón wished he didn’t drown in those thoughts of his so much and listened to his heart.

Just then, Nina entered the Roller with Jim and Yam and his eyes followed her as she walked over to a table, settling with her laptop as they talked about one thing or another.

Gastón filled his lungs with a big, deep breath. Time to start following his own advice.

***********************

By the time they finally deigned to leave the bed it was like two in the afternoon, and only because Ámbar thought it’d be a bad idea to introduce herself to Simón’s mom while in bed with him. She wanted to make a good impression— The woman didn’t need to know how she was defiling her son.

They sat on one of the couches in the living room for a more neutral setting. Ámbar chose a white top with a white linen sweater over it for the occasion. It made her look harmless enough. She also liked how its black and cream pearl embellishments combined with her dark jeans, and the weather had been a bit cooler lately. Simón had also opted for wearing his jean shirt over his purple t-shirt instead of tying it around his hips for that same reason.

They settled in front of her laptop’s screen for the video chat. It had been Ámbar’s idea to have it through there so it was more comfortable, that way neither side had to be holding up a phone.

Just as Simón had told her, the call hadn’t been a serious affair at all. She’d been a little nervous at the beginning, but Simón’s mom’s wide smile and warm personality put her at ease quickly. The woman didn’t seem to hate her at all, and she seemed too genuine to be pretending to like her. She reminded her so much of Simón. She knew that he mostly looked like his dad from the photos she’d seen on his Instagram, but he had his mother’s eyes, and the more Ámbar talked to the woman, the more pieces of him she found in her. It warmed her heart.

It wasn’t a very long chat, but Simón’s mom found the time to tell her a fun story of when Simón was a kid, much to his embarrassment and her insurmountable enjoyment. She promised to show her the family photo albums when she visited Cancún. Ámbar loved the idea.

“You’ll have to show me your photos too then,” Simón told her, his eyes shining with excitement and curiosity.

Ámbar did her best to keep her smile in place. She didn’t have any photos from when she was a kid that she knew of. Sharon wasn’t one for sentimentalities like that. If she had any, they were probably taken by Amanda on specific dates like her first day at kindergarten and at the Blake. Maybe some from old birthdays. Ámbar had no idea where those could be though… if Sharon had kept them at all.

The only old photos she knew she had were from photoshoots. She’d first asked for one when she turned twelve, and had some more done after that. When all cellphones started having decent cameras, it became easier to have photos.

Ámbar chose not to say any of it, and tried not to let it darken her mood, but the bitter reminder stuck on the back of her mind. The contrast between Simón’s mom’s sweetness and the cold, scolding texts she’d been receiving from Sharon was too great. Ámbar was ignoring them. Her godmother had no right to reprimand her for anything when she was keeping her secret at the expense of jeopardizing her happiness.

The video call ended with Simón’s mom teasingly warning him to behave and giving Ámbar permission to put him in his place if he didn’t. The irony of Ámbar promising to keep him on the right track was not lost on her, but it was just playfulness in the end. She only hoped that the future plans they’d talked about did come to pass.

After that, Simón insisted on inviting her out for lunch. “When was the last time we had time for an actual date? We need to seize this opportunity!” He took her to a restaurant he’d visited before with Pedro and Nico. It was nothing fancy, completely unlike the restaurants Sharon took her to the times they ate outside, but it was nice, and the food was delicious. The company was the best part, of course. Ámbar felt like she could’ve eaten anything and anywhere as long as she was with Simón. She nursed her drink slowly just so they could stay there longer, smiling and conversing. She suspected he did the same.

They had a brief fight over who would pay the bill. Ámbar argued that there was no need for him to spend money on her when she had more than she needed, but Simón insisted that he had invited her so it should be his treat. She proposed splitting it, but Simón wanted to pay for both. Sensing that it was important to him, she relented.

She grabbed his hand as they left and they walked down the street with their fingers interlocked. Ámbar would’ve been happy to just walk around with him for the rest of the afternoon until the sun went down, but he proposed they went back to the mansion.

When they got there though, she didn’t get to cross the front door before Simón stopped her.

“Wait for me right here, don’t move.”

Ámbar frowned but did as told while he disappeared inside, curious as to what idea he’d come up with.

He reappeared about five minutes later, with both hands behind his back, sign that he was hiding something.

“Okay, so, um, I want to make you a surprise,” he started.

She smiled with interest. “Okay…”

“But, in order to do that, I’m going to need you to be out of the mansion for a while.”

Ámbar raised a brow. Now this was unexpected, but she was too curious to say no. “Like for how long?”

“I don’t know, an hour?”

“And… what am I supposed to do in the meantime?”

Simón finally brought his hands forward, revealing one pair of her skates and her helmet. “You can rollerskate,” he said cheerily. “I’ve noticed that with so much work you haven’t found much time to do so lately. And, I mean, it’s a shame really, to deny the world the chance of seeing the queen of the rink in action.”

Her heart melted with the flattery, and especially for how thoughtful a gesture it was. “You’re so cute. But the idea of this day was to spend it together,” she argued, moving closer to place her hands on his shoulders. “I would rather skate with you. I miss it.”

He showed a sympathetic smile. “Me too. We can do that if we find some time at work one of these days. But now,” he handed her her things, “you can have some alone time and clear your head.”

Ámbar received them with an acquiescent smile. “Okay.”

“I’ll text you when you can come back.”

“Okay. Just try not to destroy my house with whatever you have planned.”

Simón chuckled. “I won’t. I may have to borrow a couple of things though, you don’t mind?”

She shrugged. “You live here, grab whatever you like.”

They shared a short parting kiss.

“Have fun,” he said with a smile.

Ámbar gave him one last peck just because she could and left.

**********************

“Thank you for agreeing to meet with me.”

Nina smoothed her hands down her skirt. They were sweating so hard, and she knew it had nothing to do with the mellow autumn sun shining over them in the quiet square.

It was all about the boy in front of her, who’d always had the ability to make her heart pound. And to whom, she realized, she still hadn’t said anything.

“Yeah, well, we’re still friends, right?” She somehow managed to articulate nervously, trying to show a smile. “I mean, if you need something, advice or anything like that, I can help. Although, I don’t know if I’d really be much help. Maybe you should talk about it with Matteo?”

Gastón looked at her in silence, in the eyes, in a way that did nothing to calm her heart.

“Matteo can’t help me with this,” he said, just the slightest hint of sadness in his voice showing he wished it were not so. “No one, really... It is about you and me.”

Yes, that was exactly what she’d feared. “…You wanna talk about us?”

Gastón nodded solemnly.

“Could we take a seat?” He invited her gently, signaling to the bench right next to them.

They both sat, keeping some small distance between them, but they were still very close. When had been the last time they’d been this close? Alone? Nina was having a hard time keeping his gaze. She was gripping the strap of her bag so hard her fingers would probably hurt later.

“Look, Nina,” Gastón started, his tense shoulders the only thing that betrayed he was nervous too, “I’ve been thinking a lot these past few weeks… and you have no idea how much I miss you.”

Her heart clenched painfully.

God, how many times had she dreamed with him saying those words? So many scenarios, so many things she’d wished to say. And now she was frozen.

“Every second I’m not studying I think of you,” Gastón continued, his emotion-filled voice hitting her with each word. “Hell, even when I’m studying I think of you— That I haven’t failed a class is a miracle.” He looked down, ashamed. “And I know that saying this now is unfair when it was me who wanted to end it but… I need to correct my mistake.” Gastón looked up. Honest, determined eyes bore into hers. “I want us to be together again, Nina. I want you to be my girlfriend.”

Nina felt herself tremble.

“I… I don’t understand,” she uttered, her brain registering the words but unable to process them. Or perhaps she was too scared to. “What happened with all you said? What happened with not making each other suffer and letting destiny bring us back together someday if it was meant to be?” She’d held on to that. To the belief that their names were being kept by the sea and maybe they’d find each other in the future. She’d accepted that, and now he…

“That was before my best friend fell off a fence,” Gastón said, somber, and his expression just quieted her once more. “He could’ve died, Nina. One bad hit in the head is all it takes. And I would’ve been a hemisphere away.” His hands clenched. His face reflected how much the idea tormented him. “I started thinking of possibilities. Matteo could’ve died or ended up in vegetative state or in a wheelchair for the rest of his life. Accidents happen every day— And what if it had been you?” He said, his eyes dancing between hers in fear. “What if something had happened to you and I wouldn’t have been able to be there?” His jaw set. His head shook slightly. “I can’t trust a hypothetical future when I could die tomorrow.”

Nina’s throat tightened. “Don’t say things so horrible, please.”

“It’s true,” he dismissed her pleading, not harshly but with the calmness of someone who has complete certainty of what he’s saying. “That’s why I had to come. For Matteo, and for you. To ask you to give me another chance.”

He seemed to want to hold her hands but didn’t dare to do so. They fell back on the bench, right on the edge of the flounce of her skirt. Nina had no chance to be either disappointed or relieved by that because his eyes held her captive.

“I’m so sorry,” Gastón said, like from the bottom of his heart. “I gave up on us too soon. I was a coward; I see that now. I thought I was doing what was best for us, so we wouldn’t have to suffer from being so far apart. But maybe I was just thinking of myself and what I thought would hurt me less. Maybe I was just too afraid of you finding some other guy… And now, because of that, my greatest fear came true,” he said dejectedly, averting his gaze. “I’ve been told that you have a thing with Eric…”

“No!”

The word was pulled from her lips before she made a conscious decision. She was not surprised to see the surprise in Gastón’s eyes because she was caught off guard too. She began to backtrack rapidly.

“I mean… He’s a very sweet guy,” she said, because not saying it would be unfair. Just the fact that she’d denied him so adamantly made her feel mean. “We see each other every day and we talk. We’re kinda similar, we get along very well. And…” She doubted. She felt awkward telling him all this, but after everything Gastón had said to her, she had to be honest, she couldn’t act like there was nothing there. “…He likes me…”

She decided not to mention the kiss. It’d been a mistake and Eric had apologized. But by Gastón’s face, she might as well have.

He looked down, putting on a solemn mask. “…I understand.”

“No, you can’t understand,” Nina said immediately, and this time she meant the strength with which she spoke. She didn’t know where it came from but suddenly it was burning, and when he met her gaze this time, she looked at him straight on. “You can’t possibly understand because I don’t. Everyone’s telling me that I should give Eric a chance and, honestly, there are many reasons why I should, starting with the fact that he’s here and wants to be with me, but I can’t even think about being with Eric because I can’t stop thinking about you.”

Now it was him that was rendered speechless. His eyes searched hers, a new light in them, and she’d already taken the jump, so she let the words fall whenever they led her.

“You may have gone very far away physically, but you stayed in my heart,” she confessed. The most real, hardest truth she’d ever had to admit. “And with it stayed the sadness, and this horrible feeling that I’m missing something…”

Gastón didn’t doubt this time— He took her hands in his.

“I feel the same,” he said with both relief and desperation. “I’ve been feeling the same way all these weeks, Nina. I miss you like I didn’t even think I could miss someone. I’ve been so angry at myself for letting you go when it was the last thing I wanted.” His right thumb ran over her knuckles and he followed the caress with his eyes. Nina felt it like a spark. “I know I have no right to ask you anything… But I just can’t go back without at least trying to get you back.”

“…But then… we’d be together but apart again?” She said, discouraged by that bleak future. They’d already been through that— Did he really want to go back to it?

“You were the one who said that I was never really gone,” he noted. “As long as we still have each other here…” He brought their joined hands to his chest. “…Isn’t that all that matters?”

She didn’t know if she could feel his heart against her fingers or if it seemed so because she could see it through his eyes. She was too overwhelmed. “Gastón—”

“Say yes, Nina.” He squeezed her hands. “Please.”

She wanted to say yes. She wanted to jump into his arms and hug him tightly. She wanted to believe that love conquered all and they would be okay.

But she had thought that once. She’d believed it with all her heart, all through that summer, only for him to put an end to the story she’d been trying to write.

She couldn’t just forget about all the nights she’d spent crying over him since then. Names in the sea or not, it had been the death of something and she’d mourned it. Her heart was just starting to heal a little and he wanted her to rip all the carefully placed stitches and re-open the wound once more?

What if it just bled out again? What if their love wasn’t enough?

“… I need to think about it.”

Gastón looked disheartened but nodded and let go of her hands, lowering them slowly. “Yeah, of course. I understand.” He tucked his hands inside the pockets of his jacket, like stopping himself from reaching for her once more. “I leave in three days. If you could tell me by then…”

Nina nodded, utterly unsure of how she was even gonna make heads of what she felt to come to an answer, but knowing that it was the least Gastón deserved, and she as well.

She either chose to give themselves another chance… or she closed this chapter forever.

She knew it wouldn’t be easy no matter which she chose.

****************

Luna couldn’t understand what was happening.

She’d gone out for ice cream with Michel just like they’d promised. One second they were goofing around, laughing like always, and then the next, Michel was kissing her.

She froze, her brain scrambling to comprehend the situation. She hadn’t expected a kiss. She hadn’t given any sign for a kiss. He hadn’t just stumbled and fallen into her mouth, right? Nono, he was holding her face, and the way he was pressing against her lips was way too deliberate. Which meant it wasn’t a joke either, and even if it had been, it’d be a terrible one.

Finally, the repulsion she felt broke through the paralysis of confusion and she pulled away from Michel.

“What are you doing?” She asked, shaken up.

Michel was grinning. “I don’t know, I kissed you,” he said with a dreamy expression like something magical had just happened.

Meanwhile, it must have been one of the few times in her life Luna couldn’t see any good in a situation.

“Yeah, I realize that,” she replied, and she really couldn’t help the bite in her voice. “But, why? I mean, I didn’t— I never told you to kiss me!”

Michel’s shoulders deflated and his smile began to fade. “What are you saying? You didn’t like it?”

“Michel, how could I like it?” She honestly couldn’t believe he was even asking right now. Was he that detached from reality? In what world did he think this was okay? “We talked about this, didn’t we? Yesterday.”

“Yes, but,” he showed a tentative smile, “you said we are like birds of a feather and that you like hanging out with me…”

“Yeah, as friends,” she declared, keeping his gaze so he knew she was serious. A grimace wrinkled her face from all this situation. “God, Michel, you misunderstood everything, I thought we’d made things clear.”

Michel’s face finally lost all its light and became covered with remorse. “Luna, I’m sorry. Can we talk about this?”

“Why, I don’t know— Are we gonna talk and then you’ll try to kiss me tomorrow?!”

At seeing him wince in pain and regret, Luna’s outrage decreased somewhat; she didn’t want to be mean.

She closed her eyes, sighing heavily. “Look, Michel, I’m sorry, but this made me very uncomfortable and I need to go.”

She passed by his side and walked away, not looking back once, even when she heard him calling her name.

She wasn’t just shocked, she was hurting. She trusted Michel, she thought they were friends, she thought this outing had been as friends— Had he been just waiting for an opportunity to do this? Couldn’t he have at least leaned in slowly so she could move away instead of grabbing her face like that?

She rubbed her lips with the back of her hand as if that would somehow erase it. She knew it was just a kiss and she was probably exaggerating but… If she said she didn’t want something and then he just did it anyway, that was… that was just wrong.

She speed-walked to her house, wanting nothing more than to forget this happened.

A few meters away, a fresh bouquet of flowers laid discarded on the ground.

**********************

Ámbar felt the fresh air against her face. She closed her eyes for a moment, just taking in the feeling of her racing heart and the energy flowing through her muscles. She really had missed this.

She was standing by the lime green railing of the center of the park, her back and elbows resting on the metal as she took a break to refill her energy. She’d done pirouettes and jumps around this fenced circumference for a little over an hour, earning some appreciative stares from people passing by, which she enjoyed greatly. She loved feeling admired, especially because she loved what she did and knew how hard it’d been to reach this level. She remembered how her love for rollerskating had been born and wondered if any of the people who’d seen her today had left wanting to learn how to do the same. She hoped they tried it— It was a beautiful sport.

Eventually, she’d dropped the techniques and just skated around the park, looking at the scenery, at the sky, just letting her mind wander as the homely feeling of sliding on wheels lulled her accumulated stress away. When had been the last time she’d skated just for the sake of it, no choreographies or competitions in mind? It seemed like a lifetime ago.

A vibration on her jeans pocket made her open her eyes. Her heart jumped with excitement. She pulled out her phone and saw the contact she had been waiting for.

My love💙: All done, you can come back 👍

My love💙: Go directly to your room

Ámbar skated to a nearby bench to take off her helmet and change back into her boots. She wondered what Simón had planned. Maybe he’d cooked her something? She knew he and Pedro used to take care of cooking when they lived in the loft. Nico apparently couldn’t be trusted to make toasts without burning them. She wondered what kind of dishes Simón knew how to make. Maybe he could teach her some and she could make him pancakes. She was sure she could do it with some guidance from Mónica.

The idea made her smile as she made her way back to the mansion. She quickly wiped it off when she realized, showing a neutral face instead. Oh god, she’d just smiled to herself in the middle of the street. Was this what had become of her? Ámbar Smith, smiling in public like a love-struck fool. She blamed Simón.

She welcomed the heating system when she entered the mansion. She hadn’t realized how the early evening air had cooled her until she felt the contrast with indoors. Following Simón’s instruction, she rearranged her stuff in her hands and climbed up the staircase.

The minute she walked into her room, she stopped in her tracks.

“What the…”

Half her room had been invaded by bedsheets. From the foot of her bed to the back was some kind of tunnel made of different blankets, which didn’t reach higher than her waist. Some things from her shelves were on top of the ends of the blankets on each side; she gathered they worked as weights so the blankets didn’t fall off. The back of the tunnel opened into her closet. She could hardly see it— It was completely covered by bedsheets. It was like having a tent in her room.

At the front of the tunnel, she recognized the pink round ottoman she usually kept in her closet. It was standing on its side instead of the usual way, so it blocked the entrance to the archway of fabrics. Just then, she watched it slide to the right, leaned against her bedside. Behind it, crawling to fit under the blankets, appeared Simón, grinning from ear to ear.

“Surprise.”

Ámbar’s mouth was hanging open.

“I… What is all this?” She said with a stupefied smile.

“You said you’d never built blanket forts before, so I decided to make one for you,” he announced cheerily. “Come on in, check it out.” He crawled to the back. “Close in your way in!”

Still dumbfounded, Ámbar left her rollerskates and helmet on the floor next to her vanity. Usually, she’d put them back in their place first thing, but considering her closet was now a fort, that would have to wait.

She kicked off her boots and got on her knees to enter the tunnel. As she went inside, the construction became more evident: The blankets were hanging from her vanity’s chair, one of her sofa chairs and her desk on the left side, and from her bed, her second sofa chair and her pink bench on the right. She turned to put the ottoman back in its place and realized it basically worked as a sliding door. Wow, her boyfriend was so clever.

She crawled to the back, where Simón was waiting for her, sitting crossed-legged. The whole floor was covered in her dark grey carpet, and there were many pillows and blankets placed around. Bedsheet walls —there was no other way to describe it— flowed down at her right, left and in front of her closet’s shelves. Ámbar simply couldn’t believe her eyes.

“I asked Mónica to make us some snacks,” Simón said, still smiling, placing a small tray with food and drinks between them as she sat on his left. “I gathered you’d be hungry from skating. Oh! Wait, I forgot something.” He reached for an extension cord on his right and flicked the switch. Light shone all around them. “There you go.”

Ámbar looked around. Two garland lights had lit up, one on each side of them. She looked up, finding an arrangement of tiny golden lights illuminating the bedsheet ceiling. Were those Christmas lights? Where had he even gotten those?

The more she looked, the more details of his work she noticed. The bedsheet walls existed because he’d attached two parallel strings from the back of the closet to the front to hang them from. He’d taken care of hiding the cables of the lights so they wouldn’t disturb the space. There were at least three bedsheets, and she wasn’t even going to count the number of blankets he’d used in all of this.

She remembered his words that morning in the bathtub. “Don’t you feel like we’re in our own little world like this?”

It did feel like that. Like he had built a world just for her.

“Wow…”

“Do you like it?”

She could feel his eyes on her, but she couldn’t tear her own from the splendor around her.

“It’s… perfect,” she said with some difficulty. Her throat had gotten tight. No one had ever put this much effort into doing something for her.

“I mean…” Simón relativized, looking around with a little grimace. “I did have to tape a lot of things together because they kept falling off…”

“Do not mess with my fort; it’s perfect,” she countered him strongly, trying to hide the tremble in her voice.

Simón chuckled lightly. His eyes stared into hers, and he must have noticed the emotion in them because his expression softened. He didn’t comment on it, just handed her a snack from the tray with a gentle smile. “Let’s eat then.”

They shared the food in comfortable silence until conversation arose naturally. How had her skating gone, how he’d found Christmas lights. It didn’t go any deeper than that.

Once finished, Simón slid the tray outside of the bedsheet wall. “To make sure we don’t knock over anything. I’ll take it back later.”

Ámbar leaned on her hands to move closer to him and kissed him. She needed to do so for a while now. He tasted of the juice he’d just drunk. It stayed on her lips as she pulled away.

“So,” she said curiously, “what do we do now?”

“I’m not sure,” Simón replied, and began to pile some pillows behind them, against the closet’s doors. “Usually when I did this I was with a friend or a cousin.”

Ámbar settled against the pillows as he did the same. “And what did you do with them?”

“We talked about kid stuff, like videogames or cartoons we were watching…”

“Uh huh…”

“Or we imagined that this was our secret base and we were professional spies, and we had to crack some code to get into the bad guys’ files or infiltrate their base to beat them.”

She gave him an appreciative look. “You’re saying I’m dating an ex-CIA agent? That’s hot.”

“Who said I ever retired?” He replied with a flirty brow lift.

Both chuckled. They shared a soft peck and Ámbar snuggled closer to him, circling her arms around his middle and resting her head on his shoulder.

“What about you?” He asked, moving some strands of her hair back. She looked up at him. “What did you play with your friends?”

“We usually invented stories for the barbies.” She dug deep into her memories, bringing back those moments long past that she hadn’t thought of in years. “Like, there was Sofía, Nicole and Camila and they were best friends, and they did everything together, from shopping to saving the world…”

“That sounds very cool.”

“It was, until Camila found out that Nicole had hooked up with her boyfriend.”

His eyes widened. “Nooo.”

“Yes.”

“That bitch.”

“Right? How could she do that to her after she bought her tickets to Milan’s fashion week?”

“The audacity. I hope Camila put her in her place.”

“Hell yeah she did. We cut her hair and everything.”

Both laughed. The things one did as a kid.

“There was this other story,” she continued after a while, “in which the doll was in love with this guy that was about to fly to another country, so she had to run to the airport to catch him before he left to tell him she loved him, but the craziest things happened to her on the way there, making it suuuper difficult.”

“Did she ever catch him?”

Ámbar turned pensive.

“I wanna believe she did,” she responded. “That she told him she loved him, and he loved her too, and they lived happily ever after.” She looked up at Simón.

“Even with the distance?” He asked, caressing her arm softly.

“Well, no one says he could never come back,” she stated. “Or she could’ve gone to him. I’m sure they found a way.”

Simón smiled, looking into her eyes as he tucked a lock of her hair behind her ear. “Yeah, I think so too.”

Their gazes stayed locked until the gravity pulled them in. Their mouths met for a long second, fitting perfectly against the other’s. The kiss turned into many— Soft, languid touches of their lips that felt better than even skating.

“Did you do this with your friends too?” She couldn’t help but quip.

Simón let out a laugh. “Definitely not.” And he went back to kissing her.

Ámbar felt light; lighter than she ever remembered being. Safe, calm, warm— Like wrapped in a blanket after having been cold. Simón was like that. Like the first sunny days after winter. Like a warm bath after a long day. Like sitting in front of the hearth after having been drenched in the rain. Little things that made everything better. He was made of them, and he took care of giving her each one.

He didn’t only help her find who she wanted to be, but he also allowed her to be the carefree little girl she never got to be. Simón gave her things she didn’t realize she needed until she lived them.

Ámbar pulled back slowly and looked into his eyes.

“My love?”

“Yes?”

She curled her fingers around his t-shirt, trying to find the words to express everything she felt.

“Really, thank you so much for this. It’s… the nicest thing someone has ever done for me and…” She swallowed. “I love you. So much. So much so that it kind of makes me wanna cry.” She chuckled weakly, a little strangled.

Simón’s eyes danced with hers, deep and soft and yet burning.

He smiled and held one of her hands. “Ámbar Smith… You are my heart. I swear if it beats it’s because of you. Why should you thank me for anything if thanks to you I’m alive?”

Ámbar’s throat got too tight to answer. Her heart was beating hard in her chest, like trying to go to him. All of her, from the tips of her fingers to the soles of her feet, yearned to cling to him.

She pulled his face to hers and joined their lips tightly.

Simón responded like he felt the same, with the same depth and intensity, but she doubted he could love her a third of how much she loved him.

They unclothed each other slowly, kissing reverently each extension of skin they uncovered. Under those sheets and golden lights, Ámbar felt like they were the only thing that existed. The universe started and ended with him— With each touch of his hands, each kiss from his lips.

The fur of the carpet was soft against her back as he slid inside of her. They gasped against each other’s mouths, a shared sound of rightness. Ámbar embraced him with her whole body and breathed in his scent as she followed the gentle rocking.

Simón left kisses on her cheek, her neck, her collarbone. Ámbar dug her fingers into the softness of his hair and she stared at their fort. The lights above looked like stars. Her eyes absorbed each wrinkle, each mix of color, each scotch tape attached to a fabric. It was the most beautiful thing she had ever seen. She would’ve changed all her wealth for having this. For having Simón. Always.

He was pushing deep between her legs, as if he too wanted to live inside her and never leave her side. He panted her name and she held him tighter, feeling how the sensations flooded her and stole her breath.

He touched her where they were joined, looked into her eyes, and then everything exploded, turning Ámbar into stardust.

She was barely corporeal as she felt Simón let go, dissolve in her with his breath against her neck.

A tear fell down her cheek.

Simón saw the wet trail when he straightened and, instantly, his face filled with worry. He opened his mouth and Ámbar could see the questions in his eyes. What happened? Are you okay? Did I do something wrong?

But he didn’t voice any of them. Because he looked into her eyes and he understood. Just like that, he understood. Ámbar loved him even more for it.

Simón gave her a soft smile, with just the slightest speck of sadness, and kissed the salt off her skin. That was what he always did— Accept the fragile and unsure her, not just the laughs and her best moments.

She used to think she had to be perfect to be loved. He showed her that wasn’t needed.

Simón grabbed a blanket to cover them both and brought her to his chest. Ámbar pressed her forehead to his warm skin and closed her eyes.

“I wish we never had to leave this fort,” she said softly. “We could just stay here forever. Freeze time, right on this moment.”

Then she wouldn’t have to worry anymore. She wouldn’t have to keep secrets. She wouldn’t get scared every time she felt happy. They’d never have the chance to break each other’s hearts.

She felt the vibrations on his chest as Simón hummed.

“That would be nice…” He agreed, weakly gracing her shoulder with movements of his thumb. “But I’m more excited about all the new things I can still share with you.”

Her breathing stopped for a second. Ámbar looked up and found Simón smiling at her, that smile that was the sweetest she had ever known and sometimes wondered how her life had been before she saw it. His eyes were shining, full of possibilities.

Ámbar looked at him, and against all odds, she began to laugh.

“What?” Simón asked, but she just shook her head, looking away in disbelief.

How was it that he could brighten everything with just one phrase? One second to the other, just like that? It wasn’t fair. It almost made it seem like everything she’d been worrying about were just silly things. So not fair.

Ámbar sighed, and after a beat, brought her gaze back to him.

“Do you like pancakes?”

Simón frowned, clearly confused by the change of topic. “Yeah, why?”

Ámbar smiled and settled back with her head against his chest.

“No reason.”

…

..

.

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

(I had never written Gastina, so apology to the shippers if I didn’t get it right, but I believe it turned out pretty decent.)

Not a lot of plot advancement on this one, but I really wanted to give them, and you, this one sweet moment to hold onto. I've had the draft for this last scene since July 16th of *last year*, just so you get an idea of how long I have to wait to post the things I have in mind.

I really love this chapter, I hope you do too <3

I'll leave some reference pictures here. The first one is a drawing that I made. It was only meant for me to visualize the fort, so I apologize for the mess. If I had planned back then to share it with you guys, I would've made it prettier 😅

[rosealine-bishop]

Greaseball Headcanons

Okay so, @marastriker and I were talking last night about some GB headcanons. Not all were happy. But Im of the strong belief that no one starts out being the way they are and that their circumstances change and make them the way they are. So, playing off of that, here are some headcanons I've got about GB. (Some HCs may be familiar because they're also on this post here since they and I also were talking about other things and got to talking about potential kids and how GB & Dinah + Electra & CB would be as parents)

Anywho, I've talked about the background long enough, let's get to the main post.

(Might make this a two parter because it genuinely gets so so long)

(also @sweet-dining-car this is the post I mentioned)

TW: abuse, alcoholism, death, violence

So, for starters, GB wasn't always the way he is now. (Even now he actually deflects and has created this persona of a meathead who can be a total dick, but genuinely he's just a soft and nice guy at heart) Back when he was a kid, he actually was the cutest and sweetest kid out there. He was always so nice to all the other trains, and acting as a protector for all of the other trainlets (even if he was the runt of the litter. He just wanted to be like his favorite super hero: Captain America)

He would always be seen trailing Poppa or getting the most upset and doing his best to cheer up Poppa whenever he was having a bad day or looked even the slightest bit upset.

On that same note, Momma to him was like a second mother and both her and Poppa were the perfect relationship. (yes in my HCs Momma and Poppa exist together and same for the Hip Hoppers and the Rockies)

Unfortunately, at home, it wasn't as good as he could imagine it was in the train yard. At home, his dad was the biggest homophobic and toxic masculine guy you can image. A raging alcoholic with gigantic anger issues. He would constantly beat GBs mom and sometimes GB too.

His dad believed that BECAUSE he was the runt, that constant abuse would make him stronger. GB used to be the biggest cry baby but through years and years of abuse, would learn to hide it and "be a man"

His mother would sneak in some vinyls she managed to get for GB of Elvis or Frank Sinatra or anyone else she could find and she would help him hide everything when his dad would get home from work.

GB has always had a soft spot for dining cars because his mom worked close by them and he would sometimes visit her at work when he was way younger.

GB isnt actually straight. He's bi but represses it and hides behind the toxic masculinity because he made the mistake of telling his dad when his dad had a good week and he was almost beaten within the edge of his life. (and since that day, the abuse towards him was actually way worse)

GB would hide any of the abuse behind clothing and sunglasses and a cool guy persona. He would use it to deflect and pretend that nothing was wrong at home.

Eventually when GBs parents split (which was close to him turning 18), his dad managed to convince the court that his mom was unfit to be a parent. (Him and his mom talked about it before and agreed that in the end if the court asks GB his opinion on where he wants to live, he would choose his dad and then go find her when he turns 18. Because that way it would be best for the two of them)

So, at 18 he left without telling anyone and went to go find his mom. However, he never did and in fact found out about the fate of his mom from a phone call, telling him that she was found beaten to death. It didn't take a rocket scientist to figure out what had happened.

GB actually blames himself for his mother's death, but like a good son, uses whatever money he had earned to give his mom a proper burial.

When he has to go back to get her personal belongings, he takes all the photos and rips his dad out of all of them and hangs them around his small one bedroom apartment. He even managed to find some old recordings of his mom singing and some old home videos. (he cherishes those and will play them when he's sad so that he never forgets his mom. and in a way he always has a part of her with him)

He actually is really good at metal working (thank you mara for this headcanon) so he uses his skills to make his necklace from one of his mom's old earrings so she's always with him and in a way that necklace becomes his lucky necklace in all his early races.

Speaking of races, his first race outfit wasn't the best quality at all. He didn't have much so he created the whole outfit from scratch and he actually used to hide his face no matter what, behind a poorly made train helmet, to hide from the risk of his dad finding him.

The longer he was away from that situation, the more he actually would hide behind the early version of the persona that he has now. He's always idolized Elvis and he holds a spot close to his heart for the singer, that he started slowly changing his appearance to look more like Elvis.

He started working out so he would never be seen as weak ever again.

Eventually, he made a big enough name for himself that he would get interviews on TV every now and then and that's how his dad found out about him still being alive. At first it didn't really click in his dad's head but the moment GB started speaking, his dad knew exactly that that was his son. (Yes he sounded more like Elvis but a father never forgets his son's voice)

So, his dad, as an anonymous donor, asked a young CB to crash GB in the next race. CB, not one down to turn down money did just that. And yes, that whole interaction had put GB out of many races and caused him to pawn off any and all belongings to pay for his hospital bills because any small sponsor he had managed to get dropped him.

(No one wants damaged goods)

and while GB is back to normal, he every now and then when he's super stressed, will feel his bones aching, like a phantom injury and he will start limping slightly because he never fully healed from that.

But now that he knew about CB would go to him and ask him to throw races in his favor, sometimes paying in sexual favors, sometimes in actual money. Because otherwise, he felt like he could never be at 100% and would always lose any race after his accident.

He needed the sponsors and money so he would do anything to get back into the top contenders.

He has major daddy issues that he and Dinah have discussed before. She's probably the only one who knows about GBs true past (aside from Pearl and Poppa and Momma)

Because of his trauma, he actually hates hearing even the word "daddy" so one night when CB accidentally lets it slip during one of their sexual encounters, GB slaps him. Thats the only time GB would actually hit anyone.

On that note, GB actually wont ever truly hurt anyone. For all he knew, Rusty actually did crash and all the damage was from that crash. He had no idea the Diesels roughed him up.

But one night when him and Rusty talk and he finds out about what actually happens, Electra has to get his components (namely Krupp and Killerwatt) to hold him back as GB unleashes hell and yells at the diesels. Like there is pure murder in his eyes.

Yes, sometimes GB hurts other trains during races but after every race they get an anonymous donor paying for all the repairs and a letter along with it with a long apology and flowers. (Dinah helps him spell check it)

GB has only cried twice since he was a child. Once when he found out his mother died (and thats the only time he would turn to alcohol. Otherwise he swears off of it completely) and second when he found out Dinah was pregnant.

GB is 100% terrified of thunderstorms because it reminds himself of his old living situation. Often times you can find him hiding in the closet or under the bed, pillows over his ears and under many layers of blankets.

He would actually be one to collect Squishmallows and other stuffed animals because he never got to as a kid. But whenever he gets any stuffed animal, Dinah names them. However, when his kids are born, he gets matching squishmallows with Norma Jean and Presely and names them after his kids. (Thats probably the only time he gets to name any stuffed animal)

GB actually really really loves Dinah. On the yard he may be this dick towards her but the moment he gets home he apologizes to Dinah profusely and will do anything she wants to make up for it.

He would NEVER do anything to hurt her and when she's pregnant will go above and beyond to be there for her. He even went to Dustin to ask for advice and tried to ask him to keep the fact that Dinah was pregnant under wraps (unfortunately, Dustin, being the sweetie that he is, cannot keep it under wraps and eventually the whole yard knows. Poppa actually gives him some of the best fatherly advice.)

When he finds out that Dinah is pregnant, however, he has multiple night terrors about his childhood. He becomes extremely scared that he'd be like his dad and both Dinah and Poppa reassure him that he's nothing like his dad. That in fact, he has more of his mom in him than he realizes. (Dinah even says he looks more like his mom than his dad, even though GB doesnt see it. She's also not one to admit that she actually knows that its true. She's seen a few ripped up pictures in the trash of his dad back when GB and her first started dating.)

Dinah is actually the one who helps GB compile all of the pictures of GB and his mom into a photo album. This photo album eventually has pictures of Dinah and GB and then Dinah, Norma Jean and GB and then Dinah, Norma Jean, GB and Presely. So its just one big happy book about everything right in his life.

One day, he even finds Norma Jean decorating it and Norma Jean, being the little kid she is is worried that her dad was going to be mad because it looks like he had a bad day at the yard and she just touched something that he cherished, even if she was trying to make it pretty, but GB actually tears up at it because its the cutest thing he's seen and now that book is just that much more special to him. He actually gets the whole family to do hand prints on the back and then sign their name underneath (with an addition of him writing "One Big Happy Family" underneath it all)

_________________________________________________________

Okay okay this has to be it for this post because there are just so many more headcanons and I wanted to end it on a happier note. So if anyone wants to know more I'll create a part two but for now this is what we've got because good god is it long.

[x0401x]

Jeweler Richard Fanbook Short Story #1

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Index || Next →

Cleopatra’s Pearl

Yesterday, for the first time in a while, I had a night shift in my part-time job at the TV station. I continued working there for just a little, to an extent that wouldn’t get in the way of my Saturday part-time at Jewelry Etranger.

Only the channel of the station I worked for was displayed in the muted TV of the night shift room. There was a history-type quiz show going on when I came in at six. It wasn’t a genre that I had any particular interest in, but…

“Hey, Richard, do pearls really dissolve in vinegar?”

“Cleopatra’s anecdote?”

“Whoa, as expected of a jeweler.”

“This is common knowledge.”

It was said that Cleopatra, once the queen of Ancient Egypt, had a battle with the Roman general Antonius as to which of them could arrange the richest dish. In a direct attack, Antonius showed her rows of delicacies from all over the world, but the queen used an unpredictable move. She dissolved one of the large pearls that she wore as earrings with vinegar that she had poured into a cup, drinking it up in front of Antonius. By the moment she smiled at a dumbfounded Antonius, saying that she could use the other side in case one had not been enough, their contest was already over.

As I talked about the anecdote of the unexpected trick, Richard nodded with a composed face. “That is Plinius’s description of it, right? If you look for a book called ‘Naturalis Historia’, you will find it written there.”

“So it’s true?! No, that’s impossible, isn’t it...? Vinegar can’t really dissolve pearls, right?”

“Depends on its density. If the acidity is strong enough to affect your body after you drink it, it can indeed dissolve pearls as well. But then I cannot conceive that the Queen of Egypt drank it.”

“Thought so...”

“I believe it is unreasonable to expect chemical accuracy from ancient Roman literature, but at the very least, it conveys the romance that he was attempting to tell. The worth of Cleopatra’s large pearls must be immeasurable.”

I had never seen pearls being used much in Etranger, but were there any requests from the clients, this magus-like jeweler would always stock up the necessary goods in rows. As I asked how much a pearl cost, Richard answered that it depended. When I formed a big circle with my fingers and asked, “What about this?”, the beautiful man sighed.

“A gem worn by a royal is a special good among special goods. There are no other comparable items for sale in this world. Therefore, the speculation of ‘how much this costs’ has next to no meaning.”

“So no matter how much money you pay, there’s no way you can get your hands on something that doesn’t exist.”

“Exactly.”

Antonius’s treat was food. It was not cheap, but one could manage acquiring it with money somehow or other. In contrast, Cleopatra all too abruptly dissolved something unique and drank it. I see.

“That’s Cleopatra’s value, huh. So moral of the story is that, even if it wasn’t true, Cleopatra was a step above in sagacity.”

“Right you are. Authenticity aside, it is possible to do a rough analysis from the nature of the anecdote.”

“Cleopatra loses in the end, though.”

Antonius and Cleopatra did join hands, but in the end, they lost to a different general who had come from Rome and both died. Apparently, the new general had no interest in Cleopatra’s beauty. It wasn’t like everything would go well for someone so long as they were good-looking. My break time had ended there, and right before the end credits, I received a task to guard the studio’s management counter.

I would take the night shift four days a week until I started working in this shop, and thinking back on it now, my body sure had endured it. My skin was three times bumpier than normal when I woke up after sleeping until eight o’clock in the nap room. I was by no means a peerless beauty type like Richard, so this was the kind of experience where I became self-aware that even the things we couldn’t see would wear down little by little. Speaking of which...

“Is something the matter, Seigi?”

“No... I was just thinking a bit about the relationship between beautiful people and gemstones.”

Gems lasted more than people. Richard had said before that stones nestled close to people’s lives.

“Gems are stones, so they don’t get damaged so easily and stay beautiful for about forever, right? The reason why rich people feel like collecting them might not be just for using up their fortunes.”

All human beings grew old. Someone had also told me in the past that “luxury is the same as dirt to the wind”. But I could understand why someone would want to think that, by some sort of exception, they would never age and things would always work out for them.

After all, stones – being stones – would retain their beautiful forms.

Richard exhaled curtly with a “hun”, sipping his royal milk tea. Today’s serving was a work I had confidence in.

“Seigi, do you know how pearls are made?”

“Eh? From oysters, right?”

“Precisely. In order to tell apart the way they are formed from the way that minerals form in the ground, they are called ‘carbonate minerals’. As oysters have soft bodies, they are weak to pollution and pain, and dealing with them normally requires meticulous care. It is exactly because they are sensible natural creatures that they have been loved as symbols of beautiful women since times of old. From the fact that the shellfish is nurtured for a long period and born out of the mother’s body, it is also popular as a protection charm for childbirth.”

“‘Carbonate mineral’... something like calculus?”

“You say such emotionless things. It can be considered a delicate gem, close to human flesh. If the owner can successfully manage to coexist with it, it can guarantee a graceful beauty.”

A sensible gem born from shellfish. Hence the “coexistence”. As expected of a jeweler. He said some smart things.

Had Cleopatra also tried to explain herself away to the enemy general like that? She probably had. But it’s useless when it doesn’t work.

“Would it have been useless to give the pearl that she had set aside to the attacking Roman general and say, ‘Please pardon us with this’? It wouldn’t work, huh...”

“You sure are obsessing over it. If Cleopatra had won against Rome’s Octavianus, history might have changed.”

“That’s a hindsight-based opinion, isn’t it? Beautiful people are also part of this world’s riches... Ah, just now! It’s not like I was saying this and that about you!”

“I get it, I understand. Do not shout so loudly,” Richard said, making a bitter face.

My apologies. Up until now, I had been complimenting the appearance of my beautiful boss over and over countless times, and would end up praising him too much, making his face get suspicious. Regardless of the day.

“Survival tactics sure are difficult, both now and in the past.”

“Gemstones cannot speak or hold grudges. They do not increase in numbers if left alone. While their owners change as the people in power are replaced, stones simply exist. The beauty of stones lies in their thoroughly passive charm. Even if there are interpretations for them, they cannot interpret people. That is exactly why people can accept them without any ado even if they belonged to an opponent. The same would not apply to a living person.”

“Speaking of which, it was said on TV that Cleopatra committed suicide in the end, I think.”

If she were truly an unmatched beauty, she might have had her life spared even if she had lost the war. But in that regard, I felt something like pride from a queen who had fought carrying a nation on her back. Like, “I am not the same as gemstones”. It wasn’t as if I knew what the actual course of events was, though.

“Gems also have it hard. Even if they’re cherished because they’re oh-so-pretty, they can’t pick their own fate.”

“So you say there are stones that complain about their own sorrows? How surprising. To think your knowledge of the spiritual side of things would be this deep.”

“That’s not what I’m saying...”

Richard asked, “Is that really so?” and I furrowed my brows. Eh?

“Stones also choose people.”

“You saying that for real?”

“For real. It is like a chance encounter. Just as people choose one another, stones choose people as well. It is precisely because fate ensues that they settle into a person’s hand, I believe.”

“Hearing you say ‘for real’ is kinda... nice.”

“Ha?”

“The gap is incredible, like seeing Cleopatra chug down beer from a tankard... Ah... Sorry about that.”

Richard cleared his throat in displeasure and stated, “Tea” with his usual tone. Whenever he was a bit embarrassed, he would chase me away into the small kitchen.

Today’s snack for the Etranger staff was ramune that we received from a client who had come from the Kansai region. The pastel-colored little spheres were tightly packed inside a lovely box that looked like those hat boxes from department stores. They dissolved in bubbles once we put them in our mouths. Though they were delicious and pretty, as one would expect, eating them in heaps with the clients while talking about stones could have a bit of a bad effect, and I felt like it would make me laugh, so we decided to finish them in private.

“I can even bet on it, but these are definitely tastier than a pearl dissolved in vinegar.”

“What do you intend to bet? How foolish.”

Richard and I absent-mindedly ate the sweets that most certainly neither generals from ancient Rome nor the Queen of Egypt ever got to tasting. We ate and ate but there was no end to them. While we were at it, it felt like we were binge eating pearls, which made me feel just a little sorry for Cleopatra.

As I grimaced a bit, the unrivaled beauty raised an eyebrow only slightly, looking puzzled, and then began wolfing down the ramune again.

[foreficfandom]

The Arcana - Getting MC A Gift

-- Asra: Magical Technology

Asra’s not a very gifty person. Not because he’s selfish, or ungenerous, he’s just not the type of person who’s prone to giving material things to people. 

But that changes once you enter the picture. He’s finally got you back in his arms, and he’s gonna cherish every moment he has with you. What better to mark this anniversary than with a gift?

And it’s not gonna be any little trinket, either. If Asra’s gonna gift, he goes all out and really puts effort into creating/finding the perfect thing. 

After weeks of meticulous research and careful crafting, he finishes his amazing gift, just in time for the holidays. Before the two of you retire for the night, Asra pulls out this colorful glass box etched with runes and imbued with energy. 

It’s a communication device, he explains. You fill the interior with water from any source, and it immediately connects with his own - he pulls out an identical box. 

You and Asra can reach each other by use of a water spell, which can be inconvenient because the spell uses up energy and requires both to be at a body of water simultaneously. But with this, you can reliably call upon Asra at any time, knowing that he’ll be sure to reply.

It’s the perfect gift. You hug him tightly and promise to keep it safe, if he hangs onto his, too. He promises to always be in touch from now on. 

-- Julian: Imported Shawl

A big day’s coming up! It’s a holiday, or maybe your birthday, and Julian needs to find a gift fitting of you. Which is easier said than done, because even if the two of you are a very familiar, close couple, he’s still kinda stupid and panics over finding you the right gift. What if he gives you something stupid??

He considers jewelry, perfumes, rare magical ingredients for your work, you like to cook so maybe you’ll like this spice set, or perhaps these fancy oil paints, oooh that’s a gorgeous crystal lamp it would look beautiful in your room - 

He ends up chickening out a bit and going simple, buying a hand-printed shawl woven from rare Prakan silk. It feels luxurious and soft, but it’s naturally hardy and resistant to wear and tear. 

It’s nothing big, so he delivers his gift to you along with a romantic bouquet of flowers and a nice dinner. He hands you the wrapped package blushing like crazy. 

You love it, and immediately take it out to try it on. He marvels at how the colors compliment your complexion beautifully. Throughout the dinner, Julian talks about visiting the Pearl Isles of Prakra and seeing the fields of mulberry leaves dedicated to silkworm cultivation, before the crew was beset by a massive swarm of sharks.

-- Nadia: Fancy Desserts

Nadia would shower you in trinkets if you allowed her. If you’d rather she didn’t, she won’t indulge. But if you do enjoy her luxury, she pulls no stops in making sure you’re surrounded by the most beautiful and gorgeous things.

But not just material things. Nadia also wants to buy you experiences. Like hunting parties by the famous Star Lakes, or traveling to the Golden Gulf and soaking in their famous mud baths. With royalty comes opportunity, and Nadia firmly believes in sharing it with others. Especially you. 

One of the simpler experiences she can gift you is cuisine. Tasting food from around the world is always a fulfilling experience, and it requires no fancy occasion to indulge. Mealtimes at the palace are kinda unpredictable, since you never know what Nadia requests the kitchens to do that day. It could be simpler domestic cuisine, or it could be very esoteric and worldly. 

Sometimes, you’ll wake up from your nap in the library (”Falling asleep from working too hard again, dear?”) and see a small box placed next to you, and you open it to reveal floral honey marshmallow treats, imported from a far-away land. One of your many little gifts from Nadia, who loves you so much and wants your life to be sweet. Your rewarding kiss to her is tinged with sugar. 

-- Portia: Personalized Ceramics

As a palace maidservant, Portia earns a sturdy. She’s got enough coin for her own indulgences, and her pouch is even more plentiful because she rarely spends money on anything luxurious or expensive. She’s got her cottage, a stocked larder, and her family, she doesn’t need gold or jewels.

When it comes to buying you a gift, then it’s time to bust out her savings and consider her options. With this money, she could get you something big, like those bricks of imported chocolate she sometimes sees in the market, ohh those would make a luxurious and delicious gift, wouldn’t they? Or maybe you’d like those embroidered slippers, or a set of lapis lazuli earrings ...

While touring the market, she passes by a pottery and gets an idea; with the help of a potter, she throws two large mugs and paints them painstakingly with designs that reminder her of the two of you. Within the week, they’re ready. 

It’s a perfect gift. Instead of something more ostentatious, it’s a personalized reminder of her love. You unwrap the mugs and marvel at her impressive craftsmanship. She blushes and mumbles that the potter helped a lot, but you didn’t want to hear it and hugged her tightly. 

She keeps one, you keep the other. Whenever the two of you sit down to tea or coffee, you both sit across from each other with the mugs and it makes your hearts warm at the sight. 

-- Muriel: Protection Charm

Muriel’s lived a solitary life for so long, he’s pretty much lost track of any holiday dates. When it comes time for the rest of the world to begin gift-giving, he’s completely out of the loop unless he picks up the atmosphere while during his rare ventures into town, or maybe Asra asks him if he’s gonna give something to you. 

He panics a bit. He’s never really gifted something before, and no, those little pouches of myrrh don’t count. He’s got no money, and no real idea of the value of any trinkets he could buy. 

But then he realizes as he tours his nearby forest during his daily chores, he’s got an entire goldmine of riches right at his doorstep. The forest is full of useful bounty, and years of roughing it has taught him more than a few tricks.

With some help from Asra, Muriel carefully carves away at a bit of petrified wood - a very powerful magical catalyst that would cost a fortune if you didn’t know where to find some - until it forms a ring decorated with runes. A spell for protection.

The next time you two meet, Muriel stammers and digs into his pocket before depositing the ring into your outstretched hands, and you feel the power radiating off of it. It’s an amazing bit of craftsmanship and magic. 

He feels so light on his feet seeing you gush over your gift. Muriel vows to gift you more often, if it meant making you happy.  

-- Lucio: Bejeweled Necklace

This uncursed-Count would empty the treasury in your name, if he didn’t know any better. And he just barely does. But he certainly doesn’t spare any expense when it comes to burying you with decadence; gold and silver, expensive furs and silk, the rarest wines and exquisite foods. 

In the beginning, he didn’t particularly listen to your criticisms of his spending, and just kept on delivering boxes of luxurious chocolates or new gowns. But as time went on, he grew up a bit and learned that all these riches can go to more productive means than earning your affection. Which he already had, and didn’t need to fight for.

Still, even as his rule improved, he didn’t totally abandon his habit of spoiling you. He just kept it to ‘proper’ occasions like holidays, birthdays, or anniversaries. For your birthday, he decided to commission a famous jeweler from all the way in Nevivon for a truly ostentatious necklace dripping with white gems and platinum. 

It was actually a mark of growth on his part that he didn’t make a huge show over this gift, and didn’t deliver it to you over the dinner party in an effort to brag. Instead, he gently handed it over in the privacy of the bedroom, and relished in how your eyes lit up at the exquisite wealth. 

He helped you clasp it around your neck, and kissed you softly. “You deserve the best. Not just in the form of jewels, but in everything.”

[suf-lives-rent-free]

Fragments

Everything below is just my opinion; I am in no way trying to say that how I feel about this is the one correct take or whatever.

I know a lot of people like this episode and what happens in it, but I don’t.  I totally understand that some people just don’t want to see any negativity, period, but negativity is not inherently bad or wrong.

Negative opinions, even about something you enjoy, can be valid too - regardless of whether you happen to agree with them or not.

Also I get very salty near the end of this, and that might be entertaining to people who stan this episode?

I am aware that a lot of people – the majority, I’m pretty sure – think that the episode is a masterpiece. And on some level, I see where they’re coming from with that assessment.

The episode is boarded beautifully, the backgrounds – especially during the training montage – are stunning as always.  The music is fantastic, and the performances are great too.  In these respects, Fragments is a stand-out episode; I agree.

(Like look at this.  Gorgeous.)

However, something that’s bothered me since I saw the episode is the writers’ decision to write it into the story that Steven shatters Jasper.

Now, I know what you’re thinking: I just don’t get it.  I’m purposefully misinterpreting the story to say it’s bad.  Steven brings her back to life; and it’s not like he meant to do it in the first place.  I just don’t have the capacity to understand the sublime nature of the show’s storytelling.  I’m an SU crit and all I want to do is make the real fans feel about themselves for liking it.

Uhhhh... no.  Nah.  That ain’t it chief.

It’s true; I am not a writer.  I’m just a passive consumer of media.  However, I do not agree with the viewpoint that in order to properly understand or critique a thing you need to have the expertise and/or experience in order to make something similar.

For example, if I were to put something I drew when I was 10 years old next to something I drew yesterday, it shouldn’t take a person who has had an education in fine art to tell you that the latter drawing is better-looking than the former.

That’s how I approach media consumption and criticism; when I criticise a writing decision, I am doing so as a consumer.  I’m not saying I could write it better, or even that my opinion is objectively correct and the writer is wrong or bad.  I’m just saying that I didn’t like a thing.  Which, I would hope, is allowed?

Okay, defensive hedging over, back to the point; I don’t like that they had Steven shatter Jasper.

[I get markedly saltier from this point on, fyi]

Full admission of bias here: one of the things I really cherish about the original show is how they wrote Steven’s character; he’s a boy with interests that don’t rigidly conform to gender stereotypes.  He likes ‘boyish’ things and ‘girly’ things, and that’s okay; thats just him.  In cartoons when I was growing up, characters like Steven would be the butt of jokes about being ‘girly’ or thinly-veiled homophobia.  I find him very relatable, and I want to acknowledge that yes, that is probably a significant part of why I have such an issue with this episode’s twist.

I am not trying to say that he’s a perfect baby angel or whatever; Steven regularly gets frustrated and angry. He does some pretty manipulative and dickish things to people around him (stop trying to make Larsadie happen, Steven. It’s not going to happen).  He is a flawed character who fucks up sometimes. And he’s not 100% peaceful either; he acts violently when he defends himself against corrupted Gems and Homeworld Gems (and Crystal Gems on occasion *cough*Bismuth*cough*).  

However, he has a pacifistic temperament; whenever it’s possible, he prefers that problems be solved without needless violence or hurt.  And I like that; in most media, it’s rare to have a male protagonist who wants to solve their problems without jumping straight to punching things.

When he accidentally frees Centipeedle, he convinces the Gems to step off and allow him to try and rehabilitate her peacefully; he even notices that the Gems’ weapons are a trigger for her, and make them put them away.  He frees Lapis against the Gems’ wishes because he recognizes that keeping her prisoner is wrong, and when she steals the ocean, he talks it out and heals her so she can leave Earth peacefully.

He tries to aid Jasper when she starts corrupting, fixes Eyeball’s gemstone when she’s cracked and tries talking Bismuth down when she attacks him with the breaking point.  In all of these situations, his words and help are ignored or rejected; he’s forced to resort to violence.  And it traumatises him.  

We get an entire episode dedicated to the fact that he’s been struggling with processing these awful things that happened.

Even in Future, Steven shows hesitation about engaging in unncecessary violence; he gives into Jasper’s goading for a fight after what’s implied to be dozens of failed tries at making her come to Little Homeschool, and he spends an entire episode trying to keep Lapis from squashing the two rogue Lapis Lazulis. 

The only time he hops into a fight willingly is after Eyeball and Aquamarine hold Greg hostage, and even then they pose a clear threat to his and Greg’s safety and have made it clear that they want to hurt him emotionally and physically.  Even at that, he stops and switches tactics to talking them down as soon as they lose their focus and start bickering with each other.

(I mean, he fails.  But it’s the thought that counts.)

I personally find it really jarring that the writers found it appropriate to write it into the series that this same character – over the course of three (3) days – goes from disliking mindless violence for mindless violence’s sake to happily engaging in the destruction of plants and animals* and has done a total 180 on his willingness to spar with Jasper, to the point that he instigates their rematch.

*(You best believe plenty of small mammals and birds – y’know, like the nest Steven saved in the first episode – died as he and Jasper felled tree after tree, not to mention all of those displaced by the destruction of their habitats, and the potential loss of food sources from some of those trees.)

You’re telling me that it’s a reasonable character beat for this boy to gleefully laugh like an anime supervillain at his sudden new-found joy in fighting, then pin Jasper in place, taunt her for helping him get so strong, and hit her so hard that she breaks into pieces and dies?

You’re telling me that that’s an in-character thing for Steven Quartz Diamond Cutie-Pie DeMayo Universe do to another character?

(And yes I am purposefully dancing around talking about the mental health stuff because if I did that I’d have to go on a whole other tangent about Growing Pains and fuck I just don’t feel like it right now lmao)

Going back to Mindful Education, another big thing we see Steven struggle with is the idea that his mother shattered Pink Diamond.  This knowledge sits heavily with him; it makes him sympathetic to the Diamonds, even under the circumstances in which he sees them (escaping from the Human Zoo, and being on trial for said murder). 

He sees their grief, and he feels awful.  He questions who Rose Quartz even was.  He knows, based on what Garnet said, that Rose had to do it; there was no other way to free Earth.  But he still feels awful seeing the pain that Pink’s loss has caused Blue and Yellow Diamond.

In Steven Universe, shattering is clearly equated with execution/death multiple times.  When Pearl and Garnet fret over the crack in Amethyst’s gemstone worsening.  When Blue Diamond threatens to break Ruby.  When Bismuth introduces the breaking point, and Steven recoils at the sight of what it does.  If you want to take the fact that Gem shards are sentient and desperate to become whole again into account, you could even argue that it’s a fate worse than death. This particular act of violence is treated very, very seriously.

When we find out that Rose shattered Pink Diamond, there is a season and a half long arc unpacking the implications and consequences of this one action, and how this knowledge forever alters Steven’s mental image of his mother.  And she didn’t even kill anyone.  It was a lie!

In Steven Universe Future, Steven shatters Jasper 4 episodes before the end of the series.  And it’s only brought up twice; once for a big *gasp* moment during his breakdown in Everything’s Fine, and in I Am My Monster by Pearl, when she has to fill-in Bismuth, Lapis and Peridot.  Notably, it is never discussed around or by Jasper.  Y’know.  The person who actually died.

No indication of how (or even if) what Steven did is affecting his own self-image after his initial breakdown, how Jasper feels about what she went through beyond falling back into the Era 1 and 2 mindset.  No inkling of how the knowledge that Steven killed somebody has affected how anyone in his life thinks or feels about him; when Pearl brings it up in I Am My Monster, she seems to not even really believe it’s true.

If there are any consequences or talks about this incident, they’re skipped over between I Am My Monster and The Future, and we’re expected to assume that Steven and his therapist are dealing with it, I guess?

And yes.  It was an accident.  He did bring her back to life.  But it still happened.  If you hit someone over the head and they stop breathing, just because the paramedics are able to resusitate and stabilize them afterwards doesn’t mean you never hit them.

But here, it’s shoved aside because dwelling on it would take far too much time, and risks framing Steven in an unsympathetic way when he’s meant to be on the cusp of a breakdown.

It just feels like careless writing to me.  They really, really wanted their big action scene with Steven and Jasper, but didn’t think (or maybe weren’t interested in thinking) about the seriousness or consequences of what Steven shattering someone would entail.

In my opinion, Steven shattering Jasper is one of the cheapest, laziest things they could have ever done with his character (and hers, for that matter).  To me, the entire thing feels entirely out of character.  It’s pure shock value; nothing more.

So yeah.  That particular writing decision just does not work for me.  And if you disagree... well that’s fine?  It’s fine.  We can agree to disagree?  I’ve read a lot of defense/praise for this episode, and honestly even after processing all of those opinions and all the time my thoughts about this plotline have been stewing in my brain, I still feel the same way.

[onegirlatelier]

Annie Cardigan | February - March, 2021

Happy International Women’s Day!

The pattern and colours of this cardigan are chosen specifically with Women’s Day in mind, and is named after the first woman to gain honours at Oxford, Annie Mary Anne Henley Rogers. She gained her first class honours in Latin and Greek in 1877, followed by first class honours in Ancient History in 1879, and finally matriculated and graduated in 1920.

A lot has happened in the recent few months which made me re-consider my degree at Oxford, but I have never regretted going there or doubted the value of the experience. I have been taught by so many lovely women teachers and professors and met so many fellow female students—which made me sometimes forget the gender inequality in academia and in schools of all ages—and it almost feels like nothing can make me give up the opportunity to be welcomed in this place where I am expected to actually achieve something.

Aren’t I lucky?

This cardigan is probably my last big project until July, because after a long struggle, I’ve decided to finish what I started—I will need to pass the exams in order to continue my study. Today is one of those good days where I feel connected to the world, and I must cherish my opportunity at Oxford because it hasn’t been an easy fight.

There might be a life waiting for me somewhere. Maybe it’s not going to be too bad. Maybe I just need to push myself a little harder. To eat a bit more, to exercise a bit more (not to. lose weight but to be ready for the long hikes in the summer vacation), and to talk a bit more when I feel like it.

Pattern

Once and Floral by Maxim Cyr.

It was a very simple top-down yoke sweater and the instruction was clear. I set myself a difficult task by deciding to make a cardigan instead and doing the body in flat rather than in the round, which meant doing stranded colourwork from the purl side.

The only problem with the pattern was that the required gauge seemed very odd to me. It was 26sts*30 rows in a 10cm square and the author used a standard fingering weight yarn (400m/100g) and 3.5mm needles. I used a light fingering weight yarn and 3.25 needles, which theoretically should make a tighter gauge, but got around 25sts*34 rows per 10cm. Maybe if I pulled my swatch vertically when blocking, I could have achieved what the pattern asked for, which was very tight in stitch gauge but very loose in row gauge. Thankfully it didn’t create too much trouble for me and I had only a few small mods. (Please refer to the Modification section.)

I am becoming more aware of the accessibility issues of Ravelry, and will try to discover more patterns that are available outside of Ravelry. I have access to books by Japanese designers, but if you know any good source for large, complicated, heirloom lace shawls, please let me know!

Yarn

Isager Alpaca 2, 50% alpaca, 50% wool. 250m per 50g skein.

White: (from the Eco range of Alpaca 2) #E0. I used about 30g (11g left from a used ball), or 150m.

Green: #thyme. I used about 168g (52g left from the four skeins I used), or 840m.

Purple: #52. I used about 10g (44g left), or 50m.

(I find that most skeins are a little more than 50g, so the figures are not exact. The usage of the #thyme also includes two small swatches. The whole cardigan weighs 205g without buttons.)

I’ve worked with this yarn before in my Scandinavian Spring cardigan, and this time I’m very pleased with it as well. It is made of natural fibres and has a nice wooly smell. It creates a thin, soft, and warm fabric that grows and puffs up after blocking. In fact, the Isager website specifically recommends it for cardigans.

The down side of such a soft yarn is obviously that it’s not as hard-wearing as some of the more rustic woolen yarns (such as Tukuwool Fingering). The website does state that it’s not able to handle too much wear and tear, but that is okay for me since both this cardigan and my Scandinavian Cardigan are very special and I do not expect to wear them as everyday garments.

These skeins did have travelled a long way to reach me, so I need to keep the carbon emission in mind. I purchased them from a local yarn store which bulk-ordered from the Isager website, though, so at least that’s better than buying small amounts directly from the Isager store. For this specific project, I only had to buy two more skeins of #thyme and one skein of #52, and the rest came from my stash.

(Can you see the heathered effect on this swatch? I'm swooning 😍)

Other materials

I used freshwater mother of pearl buttons. I’m not sure about the source of these buttons, but I understand that freshwater mussels are very important to the ecological systems in which they live (as are all other species), and I do hope that they come from responsible farming.

As for the thread to sew on the buttons, I opted for Fujix Patchwork Coton #50, which is 100% cotton with a coating that makes it a bit glossier, stiffer, and presumably stronger than the average cotton thread.

Needle sizes

3.25mm for the main body

2.5mm for the ribbing, because I like the ribbing to hug my body snugly and was worried about it being stretched out.

Finished size

I no longer think it’s relevant to take excessive measurements of my finished project, so I will only note the essential figures that might help me (or you) if trying to figure out how many stitches to cast on, how to adjust the yoke, etc.

Underarm circumference: 82cm

Total length of the yoke chart: 16cm

(Three ways to wear the cardigan, and the white bordering with which I'm so pleased - see Mod.)

Modifications

The most obvious mod is of course that I changed it from a pullover to a cardigan. Normally you would still knit in the round and steek the front later, but in order to preserve the yarn, I knitted the body back and forth.

I casted on 110sts instead of 120 because I was hoping for a tight collar. Then in the first row I increased to 120sts.

For the colourwork yoke, there were a few rows where I had only three or four sts of one colour in a repeat and the remaining sts are all in other colours (such as the rows showing the stamen), and for me it wasn’t worth it to carry the yarn of that colour all the way along the row. Hence I used a separate length of yarn to knit those few stitches in each repeat. For the stamen, I cut a length of green yarn for each repeat and knitted it in intarsia.

I did the body first. And then I was hesitant about the design of the hemming, button bands, and the collar, so I did them (in the order I mentioned them) before knitting the sleeves to save some brain power. I had seven button holes, one on the collar band and the rest on the button band, similar to the front of a shirt. The third button was specifically placed to echo the design of the yoke.

The pattern called for 1*1 ribbing, but I did 2*2 as it was stretchier. I did invisible 2*2 bind off with a decorative lining, and the technique is similar to what I did with my Toscana Shrug: after several rows of 2*2 ribbing in green, I switched to white and did one more row of ribbing. Then in white I bound off using the invisible method. You need to knit one row in the contrasting colour before binding off; otherwise it would look somewhat messy.)

You may know that when you change colours, there will be a dotted line on the purl side, and the same thing happens for the ‘purl’ part of the ribbing. I was really worried, but the invisible bound off seemed to have covered up that dotted line, so the result was quite neat—a nice surprise!

For each of the sleeve, I have 74sts on the set up row. I knitted 10 rows, then from next row: (dec 2 for the row, knit nine more rows) repeat five times. So at about elbow length I had five dec rows and 64sts on the needles. I knitted 51 rows to create a straight (instead of tapered) forearm. Then I dec 4 each row for five rows, and ended up with 44sts. I then switched to 2.5mm needles and did 2*2 ribbing. I knitted the ribbing extra long so that I could fold it back, which was the way I preferred.

(Here is a tutorial by Anushka about sewing buttons onto knitted garments, which is very helpful.)

Further Considerations

This was my first time doing colourwork from the purl side and it definitely was not a pleasant job. With more practice I will hopefully become better at it, though! I did reserve knitting (knitting from left to right) instead of purling for a few rows, but gave up as I couldn’t find a way to hold yarn comfortably with my left hand. I might need more practice there, too.

The ribbing is a little bit on the tight side, but at the moment I don’t have a problem with it. If I find it still too tight after some wear, next time I will remember to use 2.75mm needles. The 44sts cuffs are quite snug on my wrists, so next time I’ll do 48sts or more instead.

I still have a fair bit of Isager Alpaca 2 left, and I really need some long gloves to warm my wrists as well as forearms, so I might be knitting a pair of fingerless gloves later.

[lesetoilesfous]

52, 53, and 77 for the DA asks?

:333 thank yooooou (From this post!)

52. Favorite non-Player Character headcanons?

Aaaaah I have so many!!!!!! Ooh. I hc Tamlen and Mahariel were best friends falling in love, and thought they had all the time in the world because they’d grown up together, and then suddenly it ended.

I hc that Lirene met Anders outside Kirkwall, has a great mind for business and doesn’t take any shit.

I hc that Jethann is Anders’ drinking buddy! And knows a lot more about the goings on in the city than people realise.

53. That One Headcanon that hurts to think about?

ALL OF THEM? Hm. Lord which one. I think, the one I come back to a lot is that Isabela met Anders when he was much younger on one of his escapes from the Circle, when he was working at The Pearl. I think he loved her because she told him stories about the outside world, and he was really hiding in Denerim and had still barely seen Ferelden let alone the rest of Thedas. And Isabela liked him at the time and considered taking him with her, and decided not to. And the next time she came back to Denerim, he was gone - and he ended up in solitary confinement for a year and the blight happened and she just, lost track of him and tried to tell herself she didn’t feel guilt or regret about it and absolutely felt both. And then I think when she sees Anders again it’s...good in that he’s alive. But also kind of heartbreaking, because he’s changed so much, and not all of it is good - and she wonders whether she could have spared him that, if she’d whisked him away when she met him

77. What moment/memory still gives you chills/feels?

Honestly I’m still such a sucker for “this is the rule I will most cherish breaking” in Anders’ romance. But in terms of actual game plot - I love Alistair’s speech before we rescue Denerim, and - this is maybe an odd one - but I love how cool the killing blow on the big rock wraith thing in the deep roads is. And I love Fenris’ and Isabela’s introductions!!!! I’m gonna start listing I should stop but. Lots of moments!!!

Oh wait one more before I go - when Leliana sings in the camp in Origins. I love that. And when the forest spirit and the keeper end the curse. So many great moments!!!

[imasimpforstevengrant]

I can see you

Author's note:

First, I never thought I would write a fic after almost two years later. I had this idea after watching a fanmade video about Arthur and Harleen falling for each other. I had fun while writing this, since Arthur is a completely new character (not following the comics). Please note that this is written purely for amusement and I don't profit from it.

Second, sorry for any typos. English is not my first language (Chilean Spanish for the win, everybody!). I hope you like it.

_________________________________________

Warnings: angst, self hatred, a bit of swearing, sexual themes and stalking.

Words: 1.730

Summary: Arthur Fleck doesn't live. He barely manages to exist, devoid of any bond. Until one day, a woman reminds him of how much of a human he is.

_________________________________________

He had seen her several times, but he never had the courage to talk to her. He usually avoided her when she was too close to him.

Arthur knew himself too well to know what would happen: his hated laughing fits. Therefore, he preferred to love her from distance, without her noting his existence. It was better this way.

The first time Arthur saw this young woman was in the hallway. She was going down the stairs to the seventh floor of the building. He cherished every move she did. This stranger danced while listening to music, thinking no one would notice her. She shook her figure as she mouthed passionately the lyrics of whatever song was listening. Arthur hid near the wall that divided the halls, and thus, the apartments.

He glared at her like a predator. His mouth watery caused by the hunger she woke within him. Arthur swore he could feel her in his arms, dancing vehemently to a song. He wondered during long periods of time how it would feel to touch her skin.

His lust was a loud, thundering storm that kept troubling his already cursed mind. But in the outside, the silence suggested indifference.

It kept like this for months. Arthur had also yearned for innocent things, such as a smile or even a kind word from her. He constantly fantasized about her and the guilt and regret fought after the lustful desires roamed through his fractured psyche. This was too much for him to bear. He wrote about the woman in his journal, dedicating pages of misspelled but honest thoughts. Arthur found a new way to cope with insomnia.

It was a rainy day when his feelings took another radical turn. Arthur returned to his flat after another shitty day of work. He headed towards the elevator, pressing the button to open it. He waited patiently. The bell rang and the sliding door opened.

"Fuck!", he hissed lowly when he saw her. She was carrying a bag and had her hair done in buns. Arthur thought she couldn't be more beautiful.

"Hi" she chirped, grinning at him.

"Hi" was all Arthur could reply after his failed attempt to keep his gaze in the ground. Was she actually talking to him? The beloved stranger noticed a trace of blood in his lips and sweetly asked:

"Are you alright?"

He remained silent for a few seconds, studying her expression. It was so kind and sincere.

"Yes".

"Are you sure you're okay?" Her question echoed through his mind. Even her voice turned out to be as smooth as her appearance. Arthur inhaled deeply.

"I am, miss. Thanks for asking" he replied puzzled, trying to figure out why would she even care.

The door opened and she politely waved goodbye to him and wishing him well. Arthur didn't give a verbal answer but he certainly waved back to her.

Arthur smirked. And his gesture did not disappear until he arrived home.

He built a routine in his free time. If he couldn't be with her, he was satisfied enough to watch her. At night, he usually followed her to the now empty playground. The woman was swinging in a rope made out of clothes stretched and extended in what seemed a big, dome-shaped cage like. The blonde had the habit to exercise there, not bothered by some bystanders (mostly men) who whistled at her.

Despite the jealousy that grew within him, Arthur understood it wasn't strange. He surely wasn't the only one after her affections.

He took a liking to this new scene: watching her move as if she was practising a gymnastic routine was fantastic. Her movements were so delicate, yet sensual. She seemed to go along with the air, soaring with it.

But she didn't notice, obviously. The girl would probably had gone running and screaming for help if she had discovered him.

Arthur was wrong. He was so wrong.

One day, he sneaked around wearing his yellow hoodie to preserve his identity. He was outside the building, hiding in the shadows. There she was again: beautiful and unreachable. Her long, platinum blonde hair fell like a waterfall. Arthur was amazed. She moved her arms in a graceful way once again, to flow through it in a twirl that swinged her back and forth. The girl seemed to smile before the risky move, congratulating herself in silence on this apparent progress.

Arthur laughed out loud, amazed. But he soon clasped a hand in his mouth. She turned around immediately to his direction. Arthur felt the panic and tried to run.

She called him. Not berating him but genuinely interested. There was no violence in her voice. Arthur argued with himself over and over about if this was a good idea from the beginning. The man was walking around like a disoriented dog while grasping his curly locks, out of fear and guilt. He stood still for a while, without saying a word.

He then realized the woman kept calling him.

Arthur tightened his eyelids, fighting the urge to run away. He kept still during long seconds until he finally decided to face her. It was now or never. Little did he know that she was just a few feet away from him.

Once Arthur turned around, he almost tripped taking a step away from her. He stared at the young woman: she showed no signs of fear or disgust. In fact, she seemed curious about him. She clawed at the fence that separated the playground from the building and dead end alleys. He imitated the action, staring directly at her eyes, blue like summer sky. She smiled at him, her perfect teeth shining like pearls. And it was in this moment when Arthur could pay more attention to her attributes. The girl in question was the owner of an astounding beauty: expressive blue eyes, pink full lips which formed a sweet smile. And that was only her face. Arthur was infatuated. Her face lit up once her lips curved into such expression. Was she hypnotizing him?

He wouldn’t mind, of course.

Arthur stared at her mouth, and wonders how it would feel against his own cracked, dry lips.

But her body was another wonder. She wore a white, long, sleeveless shirt adjusted to her body shape, leaving nothing to imagination. God, if he only could trace his fingers down her hips he'd die happily.

He continued his private appreciation watching the grey shorts that left her most of her thighs uncovered. He then darted his eyes up to her hair. Her long, slightly wavy strands of hair were dyed in two different colours: the right side was strawberry pink from the half down. Same with the left side, except the colour was a electric blue. It added a dreamy touch to her.

Arthur pictured himself playing with her hair, doing little curls with it. It looked so silky.

"You've been enjoying my show, have you?"

Arthur looked up to her again.

"Yeah" he muttered, ashamed.

"Why the long face, babe? It's not like I'm upset", the woman said.

Arthur stared at her again, but out of confusion.

"Are you not upset?"

"At all" she quickly replied, "I like when people see me, actually".

Arthur felt a cold shudder in his back. It was in this moment he sensed something in his chest. He perceived it as the natural reaction to the first conversation he held with someone else without the other significant being weirded out of him. This common trait was enough to give him hope of a new, happy chapter on his mirthless life.

"Yeah... You know, I like when people see me too".

The woman nodded and leaned her face into the fence. Arthur took a deep breath and it didn't take too long to emulate the pose. She was bold enough to let him come closer to her as if she wanted him to kiss her.

"What's your name?" He hummed against her face.

"Harleen Quinzel", she answered "and you are...?"

"Arthur" he rushed to give his reply, "my name is Arthur Fleck--".

A chuckle escaped his throat.

'Oh, no. Not now, not now please', Arthur silently begged as his loving expression fade away so shame would take its place.

His brain of course showed no mercy.

The laughing fit lasted almost ten minutes. It was the first time in years that he truly believed he was going to die of suffocation. He struggled with choking more than two times every minute. Arthur wasn't completely drawn into his fit. He looked for a fraction of seconds at the girl. Harleen shocked at first. After a few moments, she joined him believing innocently he was laughing out of amusement.

"You know, you can tell me the joke so we can laugh together".

Arthur wasn't able to silence his noisy curse. He only covered his mouth, shaking his head trying to make her see the desperation in his eyes. Harleen's facial expressions morphed from fun to actual worry when Arthur's hand reached his throat in an useless attempt to breathe, still clawing at the fence with the one that left free. Her eyes widened in horror. Arthur felt too powerless to even show her the card explaining his fucking condition. It was alright if she wanted to run away. He already accepted his shameful defeat.

However, to his surprise, she nimbly climbed up the fence to help him. The stalker was too weak to keep standing but when he was crumbling into the ground, Harleen helped him to stand up.

She spoke to him, reassuringly. And she spoke so many things he couldn't process while taking him to a bench to contain him. So far she was a few seconds ago and now she stood with him throughout the painful laughter.

"I'm sorry--" Arthur tried to hide his face in his arm but Harleen seemed to understand... Or at least took pity on him.

The laughing fit finally ended and Arthur got a card from his pocket. He remained silent, disgusted with himself. The blonde took it and read it carefully. Her serene gaze towards the object comforted Arthur slowly. Once she finished reading it, she returned it to his owner. Harleen seemed truly surprised... Or maybe scared. He didn't know and felt too embarrassed to even talk to her. One thing was for sure:

Arthur Fleck never felt uglier in his life.

[aliciameade]

Ever-after

Title: Ever-after Author: aliciameade Rating: T for dark themes but like, it’s not that dark Pairing: Beca/Chloe Summary: For Day 2 of Pitch Perfect Horror Week 2019 - Accidentally Summoning a Demon. And that's...literally the summary here. AU set in Chloe's second senior year at Barden. Largely influenced by elements from Kim Harrison's "The Hollows" book series. (Read it!)

Also on AO3

~ ~ ~ ~ ~

When Chloe digs out her antique hand mirror from the bathroom drawer and looks at her reflection, she frowns. “Seriously?”

It’s been scratched to hell. Purposely, if the geometric lines are anything to judge by.

Furious, she storms downstairs and into the den where her sisters are deep into planning the annual Barden Bellas Halloween Extravaganza. She usually leads the party committee but she chose to take a sabbatical this year to make an actual attempt to graduate this year. She’s on year five and while five years is pretty much average, there was no reason she couldn’t have graduated on-time last Spring if she’d simply...tried.

“Who did this?!” she demands, steamrolling over whatever conversation Ashley and Jessica are having.

“Who played Pictionary on your mirror?” 

“That’s literally what I just asked,” Chloe snaps at Cynthia-Rose. She’ll apologize later. Her eyes scan the deathly silent room for the guilty party until they land on Lily, uncharacteristically nonchalant on a couch. She’s way too interested in her phone to not be trying to hide something. “Lily.”

Lily’s eyes meet hers and for all the quiet girl’s quirks—some more disturbing than others—Chloe’s learned how to see through her, at least some of the time.

“This was my great-grandmother’s. It’s been in my family since 1903! What did you even do to it?”

Lily’s lips move but Chloe’s too far away to hear. “What?”

“She said she saw it in a dream and had to draw it,” Flo offers before performing the sign of the cross on herself and shifting to the opposite end of the couch.

Chloe’s on the verge of angry tears. She can feel her face burning with rage and sadness. “I don’t even know what that means,” she bites. “No one better ever go through my shit ever again.” She leaves before she fully breaks down, running up the stairs to slam her bedroom door.

She knows her friends will think she’s being typical overdramatic Chloe, throwing a fit over a few scratches on a mirror. But the mirror, an ornate work of art made of pearl, brass, and silver, had been given to her mother, passed down from her grandmother and from her great-grandmother before her. It had been a cherished possession through wars, through her family’s emigration from Europe, through famine and the depression when it could have been sold to put food on the table.

Chloe’s mother had given it to her when she was 17 as they laid together in her mother’s bed at the hospice center. She shared with Chloe the stories she’d longed to hear after so many years of her mother refusing to let her daughter even touch the object lest she break it. 

She passed away two weeks later. Too weak to attempt more chemotherapy and radiation.

Chloe is devastated.

She cries herself to sleep clutching it to her chest.

~ ~ ~ ~ ~

She knows the girls are whispering. They still don’t understand why Chloe was—is—so upset about a mirror. They give her strange looks and a wide berth as she carries the memento with her everywhere now. She’s compelled to protect it.

Two weeks pass and while her anger and fear have faded, she still keeps the mirror close by. Tonight, it’s tucked under her hands while she lies on her stomach in bed while she struggles to make it through the current chapter of Dostoevsky’s Demons. It’s not about demons at all, she’d realized early on with disappointment, but rather, political and moral nihilism.

Which is ironic, given her lack of belief that there’s any real point to having to read this irritating book.

“Lizavita Nikolaevna Tushena.” She has to sound it out, the unfamiliar combination of letters tripping her up every time they introduce a new character. She doesn’t even know if she’s saying it correctly.

She feels a zap, like static electricity, under her hand. Which is weird, considering she hasn’t moved in order to generate any static electricity. She ignores it and tries the name again. “Lizavita Nikolaevna Tushena.” She rattles it off again quickly, barely noticing the dull ringing in her ears until she finishes speaking it the third time and feels what she can only label as the entire room popping.

“Dude, what the fuck? I was in the middle of dinner!”

The voice comes from the other side of the room and Chloe nearly leaps out of bed in fear at the intruder until she sees it’s...just a girl?

“Who are you?” she asks, panic-stricken though her fear of imminent death has faded.

“Are you seriously asking me that?” The woman is small. No, not small: petite. And dressed, for some reason, in a tuxedo, though the collar is undone and bowtie hanging untied around her neck. She’s brunette and wearing black sunglasses with round lenses and is leaning on a walking stick that could be made out of obsidian for the way it shines.

There’s a hint of sulfur in the air, as though someone’s struck, lit, and extinguished several matches. “Why are you in my room?”

“You tell me.”

Chloe sits up and tries to understand what’s happening, but she fails. “Okay, how are you in my room?”

“I’m asking myself the same thing,” the girl says as she shifts the walking stick to her other hand. It seems to be used for fashion, not physical need. “Where did you learn my name?”

“Your name?”

“No one’s spoken it in 2,000 years. You must have read it somewhere.”

Her...name? “Lizavita Nikolaevna Tushena?? Wait, did you say 2,000 years?”

The unexpected visitor grimaces like Chloe’s just run her nails down a chalkboard. “Can you stop saying it? Just...Beca. Call me Beca. Don’t ask how it got from...what you said to Beca. It’s a long story. Like, a five-millennia-long story.”

“I’m going to need you to tell me what’s going on. Or am I dreaming? Did I fall asleep studying again?” She looks down at her bed and sees the handmirror resting alongside her thigh. The scratches that had been etched into it are now glowing orange. She leaps away from it expecting to be burned but when she pushes it away, it’s still cool.

“You’re not dreaming.” Beca crosses the room toward her and she shrinks back toward the corner of her bed, evaluating her routes of escape should they be necessary. She thinks she should probably just run and not wait to be given a reason, but despite the stranger invading her home, she doesn’t feel any real fear. Just intrigue. “Where did you get this?” Beca asks as she picks up the mirror to inspect it.

“It was my mother’s.”

“Your mother kept a scrying mirror?”

“What’s a scrying mirror?”

Beca tilts the glass toward Chloe and she flinches as though laser beams are going to shoot from it, but nothing happens. She points at the etchings. “This is a scrying mirror. Used for divination, fortune-telling, and most relevantly, demon-summoning.”

“Demon...summoning?” Chloe’s gaze slides from the glowing mirror to Beca’s face, seemingly perfect in its soft planes and angular features. She can feel her brain trying to put the pieces together like her tongue had tried to put the syllables together but it keeps getting caught up on the fact that this intruder is painfully, unfairly attractive. “Why are you wearing sunglasses? It’s nighttime.”

“It lessens the shock.”

“Shock?”

Beca lifts her hand, the one holding the walking stick, and Chloe watches agape as the stick evaporates and Beca pulls her sunglasses down the bridge of her nose to reveal glowing red eyes.

“Oh, my God!”

“Let’s not bring her into this,” Beca says as she pushes her dark glasses back into place. “And you see what I mean? Shock.”

“I’m dreaming,” Chloe says as she starts nodding to herself. She pinches her arm. Then pinches it again. “It’s a nightmare. I just have to wake myself up!”

“Not a nightmare,” Beca says as she tosses Chloe’s mirror back onto the bed and starts to stroll around the room with casual curiosity. 

Chloe’s heart won’t stop pounding and she wants to scream for help but something is stopping her. She watches as this stranger looks over her things; she seems interested in the photos tacked on Chloe’s wall, particularly one from the Bellas’ Regionals competition last year.

“Who are they?” Beca asks and Chloe watches in awe as the tuxedo dissolves into a Bella uniform, pencil skirt, blouse, blazer, paisley scarf, and pumps. Her hair even twists into place, but the sunglasses remain. “And why do you wear this?” she adds as she turns. “It’s so uncomfortable!” It shifts back into the tuxedo she’d arrived in and Chloe wonders if she could pass out from shock.

“Leave my friends alone.”

“Friends?” Beca says as she looks at the photo again. “I’m not going to do anything to your friends.”

“Why won’t you just tell me who you are?” She thinks she might cry soon.

“You already know who I am, but you still haven’t told me how you do.” A high-backed velvet chair appears just as Beca begins to sit and she settles into it comfortably.

“I read it in a book!”

“A book?” Beca’s head turns toward the book that’s fallen to the floor in the chaos. “Were you trying to say ‘Lizaveta Nikolaevna Tushina’?”

“That’s what I said!”

“No, you said...it was different.”

Chloe huffs. “Stop playing word games. Please explain what’s going on.” A tear escapes then and she sees the pompous look on Beca’s face shift the tiniest bit.

“My informal name is Beca, and you summoned me here from the Ever-after.”

“I...summoned you.”

“You spoke my summoning name three times whilst placing your hand on a scrying mirror. Interrupting my dinner, if I may remind you.”

“So you’re—”

“A demon, yes, let’s move this along. The Ever-after is—” she stomps a polished black loafer on Chloe’s floor “—basically down there, for those who don’t understand multidimensional planes of existence. It’s what you mortals think of as Hell, but it’s honestly nothing like what you think. No rivers of lava. It’s all much, much worse. I could take you back with me. Give you a VIP tour. And I could use a new familiar.” An unnerving smile starts to curve Beca’s lips. “Are you going to tell me what your name is? It’s the polite thing to do, given you’ve managed to drag me here.”

“Chloe.” She has no earthly idea why she offers this...this demon her name.

Beca sits back in her chair and crosses her legs at the knee. “Chloe.” She seems to be thinking and is silent for a few seconds before she says, “Isadore Goodwin Abraham.”

“What?” The name is vaguely familiar as if she read it once in a book as a child.

“Isadore Goodwin Abraham was your sixth great-grandmother. She tried for years to summon me. Never could, though. Couldn’t get my name quite right. We’d talk through the mirror. She was a powerful witch. Always unsatisfied, always trying new spells and divinations. Never married. She did have two daughters, though, and was cast out of her village. Ironically, not for witchcraft but for having a child out of wedlock. I miss her sometimes.” Though Chloe can’t see them, she can feel Beca’s eyes on her. “You look like her. Are you a witch?”

“What? No!”

“Are you sure?” A glowing, evil-looking ball of green and black appears in Beca’s left hand and before Chloe can process what’s about to happen, she throws it right at her.

She can feel its energy transferring through the air around them. Can feel its heat and its ice and its evil, like it’s full of souls screaming to be released and it’s all hurtling at her and she does the only thing she can think to do.

She closes her eyes and hopes to live.

There’s a pull on her psyche like a plucked guitar string followed by the sound of sizzling and the stench of sulfur.

“Still think you’re not a witch?”

When she opens her eyes she realizes she’s trapped. Trapped inside some kind of a bubble that’s swirling with tints of yellow and blue and the odd smudge of black that’s sitting around her as the green and black energy rolls down it like water on a window to disappear into the floor. She panics and moves and as soon as she touches the edge of the energy field it pops to nothing.

Her heart won’t stop pounding and it’s making her dizzy. “What just happened?”

“You cast a circle of protection.”

“I did what?”

“Look, babe; I’m not here to teach you about witches and demons. That’s what libraries are for. Or, I guess now you have something called The Internet. Read about it and then get back to me.”

Chloe hisses as a burning line drags across her wrist and she looks to see a small scar appear, fresh and red as though she burned herself on an iron. “Get back to you? About what? What did you do to me?”

“You summoned me here, and now you owe me. Learn the basics and then I’ll bring you back with me. I can tell you’ll be a great familiar. So much natural talent. When I decide you’ve repaid me, that mark will be removed.” She’s still grinning like she knows Chloe’s deepest, dirtiest secrets. “But until then, I’m going to get back to my dinner. You have no idea how difficult it is to find fresh fruit and veggies there and I have a carrot and an apple calling my name that I paid handsomely for.”

There’s a chorus of shrieks followed by laughter downstairs and it gets Beca’s attention. She stands and the chair evaporates as she turns toward Chloe’s bedroom door. 

“No, don’t. Please!” Chloe calls out. She’s not sure what she’s trying to stop. Perhaps nothing. Perhaps the stealing of the souls of her closest friends by an evil being from the underworld.

Beca keeps walking but turns and does so backward, still smiling. “They sound like they’re having fun. I can be here until sunrise, so I think I’ll go join the party. Do you have any apples?”

“Please don’t hurt them.” Chloe wants to run but fear weighs her down. Fear and confusion.

“Who said anything about hurting them? After all, you’re the one who owes me, not those girls downstairs. I’m going to go see if you have any apples.” Beca smiles once more before she vanishes right through the door leaving Chloe in silence.

Eyes wide, she looks around the room, sure she has to still be asleep. Everything seems normal now; the mirror’s glass is nothing but silver once again. But there are two burn marks on the hardwood floor of her room right where she remembers the black and green energy Beca had thrown at her dripping off her...force field?! and through the floor.

She looks at her own hands; they still tremble from the rush of emotions: fear, confusion, dare she say intrigue? and, above all else, pure energy that she can still feel flowing through her. She feels it like wind rustling the leaves of a tree making the hair on the back of her neck stand up. It’s nothing like she’s ever felt but suddenly experiences from her life start sliding into place. The day a car nearly struck her dog but it stopped when she screamed. The way her friends say she’s able to put people under a love spell, falling for her in the blink of an eye. The curious talent she has in the kitchen at combining counterintuitive ingredients and yielding wonderful results. She remembers sneezing near a candle once and it igniting.

“What the heck?” she whispers to herself. “A witch?”

She feels the room pop and suddenly Beca’s right next to her, lying on her bed casually as if she was there all along to watch a movie together. “And a demon,” Beca says with a grin before disappearing again.

“Wait—Beca!”

“That’s my name; don’t wear it out.”

Chloe can’t even see her but it sounds like she’s right next to her.

“Hey, Chloe!” Stacie’s voice rings up the stairs. “Your friend Beca’s here! Quit studying and come drink with us!”

“Literally, what the heck,” she repeats as she stands. Her entire body is trembling like she’s full of caffeine or carbonation. It could be adrenaline, but she can feel it. Feel the energy of everything around her, of where the circle she’d somehow cast used to be. Of where Beca appeared— and then disappeared. Of the river miles away that feeds the nearby lake and how the water seems to interfere with the energies of everything around it. She can feel her friends downstairs and their happiness but above all, she can feel Beca. And though she doesn’t know what Beca is doing, she can read that no one is afraid, so at the very least, Beca hasn’t killed anyone. At least, not yet.

“I’m coming!” she shouts back as she hurries toward the door to make sure her friends are safe from the demon that’s in their home.

And to ask Lily more about her dream.

The end…?

[thekriseffect]

Blissful Silence (Liam x MC)

[Note: I had the day off from work today, so what did I do with my free time? Wrote another TRH fic! It’s a little (a lot) all over the place and it ended up being longer than I originally anticipated (apparently my mind had a lot to say), but overall I’m happy with its outcome... I think. That could change within a few hours.]

[Summary: After the announcement of the heirs gender and with Freya’s due date only days away, everyone is anxious for their arrival. You can read my previous similar fic here if you’d like!]

[Tag List: @romanticaheart-posts, @cora-nova .]

“What about Oliver? It’s cultivated, like Liam, yet also simple, like you.”

I was gritting my teeth so tightly I was sure they would fall out as I stomped to the great hall, Madeleine hot on my heels with pen and paper gripped determinedly between her stupidly perfect manicured nails. I didn’t think it was possible for me to dislike her more than I already did, yet these past eight months had proved me wrong. She’d evolved from an irritating itch to a festering disease, one with seemingly no cure that was driving me more toward insanity with each passing day.

It was late morning and the palace was fairly quiet with most of the staff out doing their duties for the day, so it gave me the illusion that I was alone, which was far from the truth. I was never alone, not anymore. I knew Mara wasn’t far behind, my ever watchful shadow, though she was careful to camouflage her presence like she had been for the past several weeks, which caused the sour bitter-taste of guilt to stick to the back of my throat. I hadn’t meant to snap at her. I was just tired of everyone treating me like I was a piece of fractured glass, ready to shatter into millions of irreparable shards at a moment's notice. I was pregnant, not dying.

“Lionel would also be an acceptable choice.” I grimaced. “Or Alfred, after Alfred Dumar, the fabled Cordonian dueler. The public would love that, not to mention it would portray stability to name the heir after someone so admired within society.”

“For the last time, Madeleine, I’m not discussing baby names with you.” Liam and I had recently announced the gender of our child, a boy, under the guidance of our press secretary. We had originally planned to keep it a surprise but Cordonia’s citizens were growing restless as were the neighboring royals. They wanted answers and I was failing to provide them. Curse me for taking too long to grow a human being inside my belly.

A press interview was scheduled to take place in the great hall this afternoon to discuss the kingdoms future king, so I was shoved into a satin pearl gown that hugged my torso a little too snugly with dozens on beaded clips secured in my hair to try to tame the strands flat. It wasn’t working. I blew a rogue flyaway away from my scrunched forehead. Definitely not working.

“It would be good to disclose this sort of information during the interview, Freya. With your due date being mere weeks away the media is going to be as demanding as ever,” she told me matter-of-factly as she scrawled something inside her notebook as we walked from corridor to corridor.

“Then they can wait those last few weeks to get that information,” I shot back.

The one thing they fail to tell a pregnant queen was how different her circumstances would be from a regular pregnant woman. I knew that things would be more complex for me than a typical mother, I’d always known, but it was one thing knowing and another thing actually experiencing it firsthand.

Every one of them wanted a piece of my son for themselves. They circled around me like vultures, blackening the sky as they anticipated the big moment so they could dive in for the kill. Dive in for that tiny chip of power that they would be offered. I’d do anything, anything, to keep him from their clutches. He was mine… at least for now.

I’d stopped listening to Madeleine minutes ago. Her even tone melded into the background with the rest of the pointless factors as my mind raced with obsessive thoughts until a deep throb started to pound like a heartbeat against my skull. My soles hurt, my back cramped, hips too tiny to accommodate my now massive stomach, and this dress was trying to suffocate me with it’s never-ending ruffles.

I slipped a clip free from atop my head.

I was warm. Too warm. Like I was sitting too close to the sun. Why did this castle have to be so goddamn warm?

Another clip was ripped away impatiently and dropped, forgotten on the marble below.

I glanced down at my dress. I hated the color ivory. It was reserved for people who were considered pure and innocent and I was neither. I felt like I was posing as something I wasn’t wearing it. It wasn’t meant to be worn by people like me.

I reached up again, my fingers trembling slightly now. Down went another clasp, echoing soundlessly against the ground as Madeleine’s voice droned on and on.

We came to the end of the corridor then only to be met by a set of polished, gleaming stairs. My legs ached. Stairs. So many stairs.

Madeleine moved forward down the steps while I was rooted to the spot like my feet were super-glued to the floor. I stumbled back, hands reaching behind me for the glass of the long decorative table that posed with two velvet cushioned chairs in the hallway in front of one of the windows overlooking the castle gardens. My fingertips met a cool surface and I shifted to the right to ease myself down into one of the chairs.

I sunk into it with a soft sigh and let my eyes fall closed as I tipped my head back against the headrest. Immediately some of the tension eased, evaporated into nothing, giving my lungs more room to breathe. I placed a hand against my uncomfortably swollen belly and began moving it soothingly in small circles back and forth, back and forth. I wish I could stay here like this, without a care in the world. I wish—

“What do you think you’re doing?” Madeleine’s voice came directly above me though I didn’t open my eyes to look at her.

“Sitting.”

Even without meeting her gaze I could hear the irritation laced within her words. “You don’t have time to sit. You need to meet with Liam and the media downstairs in ten minutes.”

“I don’t want to.”

“I don’t care if you want to, you have to.”

“I’m the Queen of Cordonia,” I said. “I don’t have to do anything.”

She huffed as she towered over me with what I could only guess was a disapproving expression. “You know that’s not how this works.”

I hummed. “Are you sure about that?”

“Unlike the rest of your companions, I don’t find this amusing—.” I’d stopped listening after that. It was always the same with Madeleine. She’d tell me to do something, I’d refuse mostly just because I could, and then she would lecture me about my “incivility” and remind me of the importance of my “regal demeanor.” I was a queen and, in her mindset, that meant I was expected to smile and wave and look pretty while keeping my mouth firmly shut.

I slumped further down into the armchair, the light playing against the inside of my eyelids as I let my thoughts wander away from me. The window behind me was propped open slightly, letting the strong scent of freshly mowed grass drift up into the room. I took a deep breath and allowed that seemingly unimportant observation wash over me. It’s funny how something familiar like that can calm you down. It was one of the things I’d learned to cherish more and more over the past year, the little details. The ones that appeared insignificant but in truth were what held everything together at the seams. I sighed. When did things become so complicated?

“Freya?” A new voice cut through my thoughts. Worried, richly masculine, and perfect. Liam. “What happened?”

Madeleine answered before I could, her sharp tone clashing so harshly against his that it almost made me laugh. “Your wife is being effortlessly impossible, per usual.”

Footsteps grew closer. I could feel him kneel down in front of me, his large fingers gripping the armrests at my sides as he searched my face. “Frey?” I opened my eyes to meet his. Concern pinched his eyebrows together. He had the appearance of the refined king, blond hair neatly combed back and white dress shirt stretched across his broad chest invitingly, but the expression of my doting husband and instantly my heart rate settled. “Are you alright?”

“I’m sitting,” I told him.

Liam gave me an amused look. “I can see that.”

Sucking in a deep breath, I placed my hand over his on the chair and he brought my fingers to his mouth, his lips brushing softly against my knuckles. I let my fingertips play across his newly shaved cheek as I matched his gentle look with one of my own. “They’re waiting for us,” he murmured.

I shook my head. “I don’t want to go.”

“Neither do I,” Liam said. “But I don’t think we get much say in the matter.”

“Unfortunately,” I grumbled.

“How about this,” he pressed, Madeleine silently scolding me from behind his shoulder. “We go and finish this one interview, maybe pose for a few photos.” I wrinkled my nose at him. “And afterwards we spend the rest of the evening together, just you and me. No interruptions.”

I leaned forward with bright eyes. “Really?”

“Really.” He smoothed away the wild hairs against my brow to kiss my forehead. “What do you say, My Love?”

A small smirk curved my lips. “I say… you’ve got yourself a deal.”

———

The gentle pressure of Liam’s fingers intertwined with my own was comforting as he led us hand in hand through the palace maze later that day. The press gathering had taken up most of our afternoon so the sun was just beginning to disappear beyond the trimmed hedges, leaving everything in a blinding golden glow. An easy silence enveloped us while we walked; I think we were both grateful for the quiet. It was something we really didn’t get to experience much of anymore.

We wandered for a few more minutes before the path narrowed, opening up to a small clearing ahead and I let out a startled laugh as the sight of a distressed swing hung low on a crooked branch came into view. It had been over a year since I had last been here yet everything looked exactly the same. The overgrown vines, the metal canopy overhead, the grass peeking through the stones of the trail. Warmth spread low in my belly as all the shared memories rushed back.

“You really are a helpless romantic,” I teased as Liam helped me onto the swing. The wood was pale, peeling from old age and use and the ropes burned against my palms as I gripped them tightly.

“I try,” he said with a small smile.

I gave myself an experimental push. “This is where you proposed to me for the first time.”

“It was supposed to be the only time.”

“If your family had gotten their way I wouldn’t even be sitting here today,” I said, causing a distant look to cloud his eyes, and immediately regretted it. It wasn’t Liam’s fault that his parents had disapproved of our relationship. He wasn’t responsible for the actions of other men, even those carried out by his own father.

I nudged him with the tip of my flat to try to lighten the mood. “You seemed nervous that night. I must be extremely intimidating.”

He laughed. “I was terrified.”

“King Liam? Terrified? I find that hard to believe.” I gave myself another push.

“It’s true,” Liam told me. “I knew I was going to propose to you almost immediately after meeting you, Freya. For me it was something set in stone, something as normal as breathing. But for you?” He shook his head slightly and broke eye contact to rub the back of his neck. “I grew up in this environment. Being engaged to a woman I had known for less than a year wasn’t an unusual thought for me, but that wasn’t the case for you.” He stepped closer, fingers gripping the rope of the swing as he hovered above me. “I was sure you were going to say no.”

I stood then and tilted my chin up to meet his gaze. Blue eyes clashed against brown. He was so close that I could feel his warm breath against my cheeks, taste the heat radiating off of his chest in waves.

“And yet here I am,” I whispered while taking one of his hands and laying it over the bump of my stomach.

His irises flared, expression shifting from composed into something soft and vulnerable with every emotion open and out on display. Joy, fear, adoration, nervousness, love. So much love.

“Freya, I—,” he started before I molded my lips against his, cutting him off. I kissed him like I had that night so many months ago, in the same exact spot. Intensely and greedily like I couldn’t get enough of him. Pouring all my thoughts and feelings into a single gesture, taking everything that he was willing to give and giving back just as much. His fingers tangled in my short hair as he pressed his mouth so hard against mine that I was sure it would bruise. My head began to spin. He peppered tiny kisses over my eyelids and brow as I pulled back and I couldn’t help but laugh.

“I love you too,” I told him.

[treatian]

The Chronicles of the Dark One:  The Dark Curse

Chapter 8: One Thing Leads to Another

The Seer had been far more powerful than he ever could have dreamed.

It had taken him less than one year to embrace the powers that came with being the Dark One and destroy his life in the process. But here he was, ten years later, with a power he still had yet to master and a life that was still in ruins.

Her power was mysterious, like broken pieces of a plate that only made sense when put back together, but the pieces were so fragmented they were practically dust. The powers of the Dark One helped him with recall a bit, but it was the Chronicles that became his most cherished partner in deciphering her power. It was where he wrote down everything that came to mind because of her visions, where he sketched faces and wrote names and recorded the results of his experiments in trying to control it.

Focusing on a particular question could sometimes help, but the true issue lay in the "focus" aspect. If what he was working on was too broad, then he got nothing but a jumble. Words were spoken in his head, often in the voice of the Seer whispering rhymed riddles he didn't know what to make of. Those words were accompanied by images he didn't understand, faces he'd never seen before and were sometimes hazy, and voices that weren't the Seers peppered the visions speaking in small sentences or fragments; pieces of conversations that didn't exist yet. Trying to focus on the search for Baelfire simply yielded too much information for him to sort through and put together. But that didn't stop him from recording it.

The prediction he'd first heard when he'd taken the Seer's power, it was scattered about in the vision, but he'd strained his brain until he was certain that he'd come up with all of it and written it down.

"First born of Princess Cora to cast the curse to end all curses, by summoning a Dark One a twin will become a false prince. Snow White and Prince Charming shall bear the Savior who will return to break the curse on her twenty-eighth birthday. A precious debt from a woman of ash will find the boy of fire, the final battle between good and evil will begin…"

Those were his clues, confirmation that what the Seer said about the curse, not casting it and not breaking it, were true. And they were hints that told him even now that what he was seeking to do might ignite far more than just locating his son. It would lead to a final battle between good and evil, and he had little doubt as to which side that would place him on. But he was years, maybe even decades away from that. And whatever role he might play in this final battle was a worthy price in order to find his son. That was all he cared about. So he'd continued to dissect the vision, continued to put it into categories. He'd heard names. Gideon and Neal and Cora. He wrote them down with question marks as he'd never known anyone by those names. And then there were the riddles. Snow White and Prince Charming were to bear a Savior…Snow…perhaps a witch? An elemental? And Prince Charming…well the vision had referenced a false prince; they could be one and the same or different. A woman of ash? Ash as in fire? Another elemental, perhaps? And there was the troubling notion that it was the debt with this woman who would find Bae, but the Seer had told him the leader would be a boy, and most disturbing of all that boy would be his undoing. It was gibberish to him, even ten years later.

He sketched what he could, those things that he could remember, but even then, he was left in the dark. Some sketches, like the blonde woman standing beside Killian Jones with a smile on her face were clear and disturbing, a stark reminder that the Pirate who had bested him not once but twice was still out there. The smile he'd had in the vision only made him want to slip acid over the drawing and make it disappear for good. He resisted for Baelfire's sake but made an effort not to return to that sketch unless necessary.

Other images, perhaps for the better, were more difficult to see clearly. The sandy-haired boy, for instance, the truth was that other than his hair cut and ears, the rest of his face was too hazy to get details. The woman in the bed beside him was another mystery, curled under the covers as she was in a dark room, he saw only bare shoulders, the curve of a slender neck, and a mess of dark brown hair on the pillow. A pink house…it was most curious of all as it looked nothing like any house he'd ever known before. Tall and wooden, proud, and elaborate; it was like a castle, and he hadn't even seen the inside yet! But he felt attached to it somehow, he felt like there was something special inside of it something that made him smile. There were people who lived there that he loved. Liked? No...the feeling when he saw it was clear. Loved. Baelfire's home? In the Land Without Magic?

Sometimes he focused on that one vision for days before finally putting it aside and letting his mind rest. This vision he'd had, it would come to him eventually, with more information. And if nothing else, this new power was content to give him information, sometimes in the ways that he'd received the first vision from the seer, but he'd quickly learned that it came in other ways too.

Sometimes it was a quick warning vision, something he could change if he tried hard enough. He discovered it first when he'd gone to the home of a woman hoping to make a deal with him. She'd been upstairs as he waited downstairs, in one breath he was standing, looking out the window, in another he was at the base of the stairs watching as the woman slipped and fell down those stairs, her screeches shrieking in his ear from her broken leg and arm. And then in the next breath, he was back before that window, the woman was upstairs, and no time had passed as he'd just experienced it. A moment later he heard the woman's feet on the stairs, he heard her gasp, same as it had been in his vision, but this time his magic reacted on instinct and he was on the stairs, reaching out to balance her before she fell.

"Oh!" she gasped when she realized just how close she was to him. "Thank you, sir," she muttered as a darkness came over her eyes and she looked up at him under her long eyelashes. "You are so much kinder than I ever imagined." And that was when he'd left her, without even hearing out the deal she'd wanted to offer him. He knew the look she'd had in her eyes, it was the same one a small percentage of women had when he encountered them, a look that reminded him of the way his old maid had once looked when she'd proposed he make her his queen, and he didn't want what he was certain she was suddenly after. How they found him attractive was just as much a mystery as his power of foresight. But that was a mystery that would endure, unlike the gifts he now possessed. The next time he saw an incident like that in his head, a farmer's wife dropping over a dozen eggs to the ground after a horse and cart nearly ran her down, he simply let it happen.

Sometimes the power manifested in remarkable ways. He could see and hear the future most times, but other times, it manifested as nothing more than a feeling. Not like the emotions he felt inside of him when he recalled the pink house or the woman in the bed. It felt like something pressing, something that egged him on, and urged him not to walk on by but rather to seek more answers. It was a feeling of importance that sometimes led from one thing to another. That was how he'd found Martin and Myrna.

He'd made a deal with a cobbler late one night, a deal to enchant his workshop so that he might make shoes without actually having to do the work himself. It was a deal the Cobbler would come to regret, but he was certain he wouldn't. For he'd enchanted his shop to do the work for him, but without a human heart, without a passion for the craft, the quality of the shoes was soon to suffer, and when it did he was sure the cobbler would call him back and beg him for more help. He'd left tonight with a pearl necklace in his pocket, but that wasn't his true target. It was a hammer that the cobbler kept, one that had some sentimental value to the cobbler, but he recognized as an ancient hammer that was said to cross space. Foresight or not, he was hoping that it was real. And perhaps if it was, it might take him to the Land Without Magic. When the cobbler called him back and groveled for him to undo what he'd done, that was when he'd take the hammer.

It was as he was considering all this that he happened to walk by the town jail. Two stories of the filthiest criminals in the land, locked in cells, crying out for release. Years ago, he'd have walked on by, but now…

It came to him in the form of pressure. Something small easing against his back, as if it was shoving him forward, telling him to go inside. Curiosity got the better of him, and he went, just as the power demanded. The jailer was asleep inside, sitting against a wall by the fire snoring; he never even heard him come in. He wasn't the reason for the pressure he felt. It was…upstairs? He let the power lead him, let it take him around corners and through the hall until he arrived at a set of stairs and climbed. It was here. Something here. Or someone. It was the people that the power led him too. Row after row of cells and he could almost hear the Seers voice saying "no, not that one" with each one that he looked at. He must have passed a dozen enough to make him think, "if not these, then who?" The focus helped. They were at the end of the row, he noted. In a cell of five individuals, he was drawn most of all to a man and a woman. Filthy creatures, vile. And to make it worse, they smelled. Of course, it also could have been the jail.

It didn't take him long to realize that Martin and Myrna were the worst sort of individuals. Puppeteers in jail for stealing during their shows, they were due to be hanged tomorrow for their crimes. And they didn't care. Something as serious as they were in for and they made jokes, they played off one another in the confidence that they didn't need help they'd get out of the predicament they were in on their own and get back to their boy…

And he was ready to leave until he'd heard that. Get back to their boy?

The boy.

"Our son Jiminy!" she explained. "Poor boy!"

"Sweet boy! Won't stand a chance without us!" he went on.

"Oh, I'm sure someone will take him in, we'd best just hope it isn't robbers."

"Or murderers!"

"Or thieves! And that's if he ever leaves that wagon!"

"Such a good boy, and we did tell him to wait."

"Not very birght"

"Wouldn't surprise me if he waited for us until he died himself."

"Yes, always looking down the road."

"For his dear sweet mummy and papa to come home to him."

Oh, he hated these people. They were irritating in the worst way, like listening to a cat whine. And if it were up to him, he would have left them where he found them to die, but that push, that shove he felt pointed him in another direction. Toward them. There was something important about them. And so, with a wave of his hand, he freed them. He took them into the forest, and using their bodies in his magic was able to locate a simple wagon in the woods. There was a light lit inside.

"Oh! Oh, Martin! The nice creature has brought us home! Jiminy?! Jiminy!"

Someone burst out of the back of the wagon, but it wasn't a child, and it wasn't really a man either. Tall and lanky, red hair and glasses. "Mom! Dad!" he cried. "I was so worried when you didn't come back!"

The moment he laid eyes on him, the push at his back became a tug at his chest. The telltale sign of significance. It wasn't them he was supposed to find. It was the boy. Something about the child before him was significant, but in what way? A vision answered his question.

A man appeared in his mind's eye. Pale. Dark, curly hair. A man who was not fond of the razor. He wore a black leather jacket and when he smiled the seer whispered "August" in his head. Along with another feeling, one that he could somehow identify without words.

The boy, Jiminy, he was important to this man in some way. And the information he'd just acquired told him without a shadow of a doubt that he needed whoever that man had been. The boy was his only connection, his only lead on whoever it might be. It was imperative that he keep him close. But they were gypsies, they were thieves ,and all too often they were better than he was when they wanted to disappear, unless he made them an offer they couldn't refuse.

"Hold on now!" he called as they sought to hurry off to the wagon. "I've an offer for two upstanding thieves such as yourself!"

"We're listening."

"Go on!" They urged as they pushed the teenager to the side and rounded on him like hungry wolves. They took the bait, though it wasn't as satisfying as it hadn't nearly required as much as he'd been willing to truly were the worst sort of people, but still, not worse than he was.

He offered them freedom. Permanent freedom. They wanted to live this way? He could ensure that they lived this way forever, and should they ever get in trouble like this again, they had only to say his name three times, and he would come to their aid. But there was a catch, there always was.

He required treasures, precious objects belonging to those they encountered, as well as their names for his…"business".

"Oh, is that all?"

"Is that it?"

"It's so simple."

"So fair!"

"How nice!"

"How generous!"

Yes. So long as they continued to bring him treasures, they would be free to live their life as they wanted without the fear of consequence. And not only would he be able to have access to items and people he might potentially deal with as he continued to work out the puzzle the future presented him with, but he'd be able to keep their child in his sights, at least until he worked out who the dark-haired man was and could deal with him directly.

He didn't know who he was yet, but the gift had given him one vital piece of information that let him know he wasn't willing to let him slip through his fingers.

Somehow, someway, the dark-haired man knew Baelfire.

[hourglasscinnarose]

Music Analysis: Steven Universe

There was a video I watched where I guy showed his reaction the SU music, and I thought about going over all the little parts about the music, myself. Here’s the video: https://youtu.be/Sf543pO1wJw

We Are The Crystal Gems: The song shows us the connection that all the gems have with each other and how they have them. What’s the most important to them. It starts out with Steven as a young child, writing a song for them, as you do with your family. It’s really cute and sweet, and I think the fact that they’re all willing to listen shows how healthy of a relationship they all have at that point, at least with Steven. Steven being the one to write the song, and that being the song that plays every time you watch an episode, it shows you the impact that Steven has on the others. The fact that Steven is what really keeps them all together.

Breaking down the most important things to the gems, we can see what their characters revolved around at the time. For Garnet, she is going to fight for “a place where she’s free”. A place she can be herself as a fusion. It all goes to the fact that fusion is very important to her. In fact, it’s the most important thing that has ever happened in her life. Pearl is going to fight “in the name of Rose Quartz and everything she believed in”. I don’t think much has changed with Pearl and how she views Rose. She idolizes her and fell in love with her. I don’t think Pearl would ever leave those feelings. Amethyst is going to fight for “the place she was made in”. Probably the most relatable to us, fighting for our home. Which makes sense for her character. She really was alone on Earth with no experience to Homeworld. That’s what makes her relationship with Steven so cherishable, because neither of them know about Homeworld and so get left in the dark about a lot of information. And then there’s Steven, who is going to fight for “everything that everybody wants”. Side note, but I love how Steven’s arch is finding out that he’s not Rose Quartz and that he doesn’t and SHOULDN’T have to be. If it turned out that Rose was still in there or that Steven was just Rose in disguise, I think it would have ruined the message that they’ve created now. But back then, he wanted to be everything that the gems saw in Rose. Even though he never met her, he idolized her. That is, until he found out who she really was. Not going to get into that right now, though.

Now, ONE MORE THING that I want to point out is THAT THEY SAY THEIR NAMES AT THE END FOR A REASON. Garnet, Amethyst, and Pearl, and Steven. Throughout the entire show, everyone is calling him or expecting him to be Rose Quartz, but in the end, he is not. And I think this song is a great foreshadowing of the fact that he is Steven.

Love Like You: Not that this song makes up for the fact that Steven has had to clean up Rose’s mess, but it does show us that she understands that he is going to have to. Rather Rose sings this song to Greg or Steven, or even the other Crystal Gems or the Diamonds, I think this is her telling them that she CAN’T love like they can. Maybe not the Diamonds, though. Hehehe. But, anyway, the song is all about how sad they were when she disappeared and how they’re all waiting for her to come back and how she will never be able to love like they can, but if she could, she would have been able to do and feel just about everything else that Earth had to offer. Rose knows that they way they see her is through a filter, that she’s NOT that great. And I think that’s a really important thing to remember about her character. She idolized Earth life just as much as those left on Earth without her idolized her. Neither was really healthy, and everything was seen through a strong filter. Rose colored lenses, may I say.

Personally, I think that the song is for Steven. Thethirdbill makes a good point that the song sounds like a lullaby, something that Rose might sing to Steven while he was falling asleep. And i’d argue that Steven is closer to Rose when he’s asleep, since a lot of major things happen when he is. Some of his abilities comes to him during sleep and we learn small things about his character through his dreams. Not to mention that Rose was defiantly a dreamer. Granted, she was also a revolutionist, but she’s a dreamer none-the-less.

It’s Over, Isn’t It?: Gosh, there’s actually a lot to unpack with this song. One, the title and the fact that Pearl repeats “It’s Over, Isn’t It?” is almost as though she is asking if it really is, not making a point that it’s over and she hasn’t moved on already. It’s as though she’s still in denial that Rose didn’t choose her, and honestly, seeing how Rose talked to Pearl, it’s really not surprising that Pearl would still be stuck on this. And then asking, “Why can’t I move on?” brings that impact, it forces us to see that Pearl’s character, even at this point, is still fixated on the person that she once loved who had a son with someone else. Sure, we already knew that, but it tells us that Pearl is insecure, not only about the fact that Rose didn’t lover her, but about the fact that she still loves Rose. 

Another thing to really look into is the fact that the “good ol’ days’, so to speak, starts out with Pearl mentioning war and leads to her own potential in Rose’s eyes. It’s sad to say that their relationship was build on how good of a Pearl Pearl was. Heck, she even mentions that she doesn’t know who she is without her and that she’s “petty and dull, with the nerve to doubt her”. In the end, Rose is still her Diamond, and I think Rose knew that. I think that’s why she carried on and fell in love with Greg, even when Pearl was in love with her. And all the men in the beginning that Pearl mentions, it’s almost as though Rose has been through this and just came back to Pearl, or that Rose knew that she wasn’t in love with Pearl and dated other people. I don’t think she cheated on Pearl, btw, I don’t think her and Pearl were every official. If anything, it’s almost Stockholm Syndrome with how Pearls are treated in their society, but with their culture, I think it really only started out as something simple that grew because of Rose’s found respect for planet Earth. 

“Is this a sad show for kids with pastel colors?” - I love that quote. I find that hilarious.

Here Comes a Thought: This song is surprisingly simple. It has such an important message that it’s able to get across without a lot of understanding or effort on our part, and I think that’s what really makes this song. Like, it’s beautiful and catchy. Defiantly an earworm that’ll get stuck in your head. But what really makes it is just how simple, yet impactful it is.

Also, yes, this song is one of the most beautiful things I’ve heard and you will never be able to change my mind.

Let’s Only Think About Love: I think the YouTuber sums this one up rather well. It’s a great song. :)

Change Your Mind: I genuinely love this song even though it’s really short. Just that you could know someone just by giving their thoughts a listen to and try to believe what they believe is a really strong message. I really like that.

Stronger Than You: Three things - Garnet is basically a symbol of love, her entire character is about her relationship being a conversation, and HER SASS. That is all.