#but i feel like i have a better understanding of alans colors now

[geomimetry]

AL-AN’s colors

Alright so I’ve been trying to make understanding AL-AN’s colors as easy as possible for me, so I’ll start with color coding his lines in the fabricator base. I’ve decided to only use the final version of the game for this. The colors in Robin’s lines also indicate AL-AN’s color as she says them.

Before data transfer begins. Robin commences data transfer. AL-AN stretches. AL-AN: It has been some time since I last stretched out in so many dimensions. Like waking from a dream. AL-AN picks Robin up with his levitator arm. Robin: Whoa! Hey. AL-AN waves back. Robin: You’re really not in my head anymore? AL-AN: There are some remnants. (Pause.) Would you like your memories of me removed as well? Robin: Are you kidding? No way. You still owe me the end of your story. AL-AN: I told you I must return home. To assess. Repair. Make amends. Robin: Tell me more. AL-AN: When the bacteria escaped, it was my fault. I disobeyed the directive from my network. (Pause.) AL-AN stares off into space. Robin: Oh no... AL-AN turns green and teleports to the terminal. AL-AN: We noticed that a species of leviathan young produced an enzyme that is efficient against the bacteria. I thought if we incubated Sea Dragon eggs, we might expedite their hatching. I was not wrong... Robin: But... AL-AN: It would appear that Sea Dragon parents are stronger and more motivated than our facility was rated to handle. Robin: And the bacteria got out, infecting everything. How many survived the outbreak, back home? Are they still waiting for someone to bring back a cure? AL-AN: I do not know. Robin: Can I help? AL-AN: The fact that I withheld this information does not concern you? Robin: It was certainly manipulative. But I’ve also made my own share of mistakes. I’m still committed to helping. AL-AN: I accept your help. Find me at the Gate when you are ready. In te meantime, I must prepare.

The colors used are as follows: Purple Cool pink Green Warm pink with hints of orange Blue Saturated neutral to warm pink Orange

I'll get into what I think the colors mean in a second, but first let me preface it by saying that I could have gotten some of the colors wrong as the lighting conditions change in the scene. I also want to mention that I don't think the emotion behind a color varies from Architect to Architect. They seem to value efficiency, so having to learn the color-emotion combinations of each Architect would not be ideal. Therefore, I think this color chart applies not only to AL-AN, but to every Architect.

Purple seems to be a sort of stand-by color, as well as a color between some of the color shifts (not apparent in my color coding above). It could possibly mean there is no consciousness currently inhabiting the vessel. The in between shifts of purple could just be a product of two colors blending together as they shift from one to the other.

Cool pink seems to be a neutral color. AL-AN is not feeling any specific emotion strongly enough for it to show. It is possible that AL-AN could suppress his feelings somewhat, resulting in this neutral color.

Green seems to signify a heavier processing load and analytical thinking. He turns green as he mentions the need to assess the state of his homeworld. He turns green when he notices or remembers the terminal and what his next step for now is. What's perplexing is that he turns green when stretching too, but this could be explained by the fact that AL-AN is getting reacquainted with an Architect vessel after having been in storage and in Robin's mind for a long time. He is also waking up the facility from what seems to be a low power mode as well as powering on the robotic arms. I believe this would need some processing power. Furthermore, it does make sense that Architects would predominantly use green in their work in this case as they seem to value information and knowledge.

Warm pink with hints of orange gives me the impression of fondness and companionship. He turns this color when first looking at and interacting with Robin in his new body, before the weight of his past mistakes crashes into him again as he tells her his story.

Blue looks to me like joy or possibly amusement. He turns this color when waving back and when Robin speaks to him. He could be happy just for that, or perhaps because he is happy he is no longer limited to her cerebral cortex and can now start making real progress in returning to his home and making amends.

Saturated pink could mean embarrassment. It makes sense when applied to the part where he talks about the accident being his fault. The embarrassment he feels after waving back and hearing Robin ask if he's really not in her head anymore could be because he does not know what the gesture means, that he's a bit embarrassed by the awed reaction from Robin, because there is a bit of an awkward silence at that moment, or because of the fond and joyful feelings he's having at the moment. And then he's only feeling embarrassment as he talks about what he thought was his foolproof solution regarding the incubation of the Sea Dragon eggs. He remains embarrassed from there on out—for not knowing the extent of the damage he caused back home, for withholding crucial information about him. It could be a reason for wanting some space from Robin, telling her to meet him at the Gate when she's ready. Though perhaps he simply needs time to prepare or is only giving Robin time to prepare and his suggestion is unrelated to his embarrassment.

Orange seems like anger. He turns orange after admitting that he disobeyed the directive from his network, which he is probably angry with himself for. Orange shows up only once in this entire scene for a very brief amount of time, and I feel it makes sense in case it does signify anger, as AL-AN does not come across as someone who is easy to anger.

This is how I interpreted his colors anyhow. Some emotions we didn't get to see being represented by a color, like sadness, grief, fear, and love, or perhaps I am simply wrong in my assessment. It's possible these emotions have their own colors, but will need to exist outside of canon.

TL;DR Purple — Stand-by. No consciousness inhabiting the vessel. Cool pink — Neutral. Green — Processing. Analyzing. Warm pink with hints of orange — Fondness. Companionship. Blue — Joy. Amusement. Saturated neutral to warm pink — Embarrassment. Orange — Anger.

[occatorcreator]

Second Chances

Links - 1 | 2 | 3 | 4 | 5 | 6

4 - Friendship Lost

It's always one step forward and two steps back for Purple. An unexpected reunion between the color gang and a long lost friend threatens to tear apart Purple with jealousy.

Time flies. Months rolled by since that argument and the gang kept true to their word.  They did their best to not start unsanctioned fights whenever they got upset or angry. At least, while in front of Purple.

But that was fine by Purple. Without the worry about a potential fuse blowing, Purple felt more at ease being around them. Visits to each other’s desktops became more frequent as a result. Purple found himself chilling on the Animator’s desktop more often than his own as the year went on, entertained by the creative ways the four played with Minecraft and other games.

It distracted him from the pain. A pain that was lessening in intensity every month, but Purple could still feel it. The thoughts nagged at him; how would Orchid and Navy feel about what he was doing? How long is this friendship going to last, really? 

“You know, we were originally created to fight each other for eternity,” Yellow confessed to Purple privately one day as they showed him around their website.

The mention of being created for the purpose of fighting made Purple’s stomach clench uneasily.

“This was where we were meant to be,” Yellow said, gesturing to the blank white walls, “to fight for the rest of our days until one of us won.” They dropped their hands to their sides. “We ended up declaring a truce two weeks in.”

“Why?” Purple asked. “What made you stop?”

“Look around,” Yellow said. “I like this place. I come here whenever I need space, but it wasn’t like that initially. Imagine you were created to hate four other people, and your creator put you in a box with them, and none of you could leave that box.”

Purple’s eyes widened slowly as he tried to imagine, yet he couldn’t. Suddenly, the sparse decor and white color felt oppressive. Yellow smiled sadly.

“You understand, even when you like it, fighting grows monotonous here,” Yellow said, “I still have these thoughts of attacking them when we’re just hanging out, doing nothing… sometimes I see in their eyes, they have the exact same instinct that I have. But, I think we’ve been getting better at handling them. Thanks.”

Why are you thanking me? Purple thought, I just pointed out the obvious without even knowing how you lived.

He still didn’t know them all that well, did he?

“How did you get out?” Purple asked softly.

To that, Yellow looked away, shoulders tense.

“A stick figure broke in, somehow,” Yellow said, letting out a bemused huff, “that Orange kid… they came looking for a fight for some reason, but didn’t even have a proper fighting stance. When we saw the wall was broken down, we were so happy to be free and almost ignored them! They were chill enough to show us around the computer” He sighed. “But then Alan deleted us.”

Purple nearly tripped over himself. “Alan deleted you?”

“We spawned right back here,” Yellow said, so casually as if the fact Alan deleting them didn’t warrant further explanation, “We couldn’t do much until he refreshed the page, and when he did, the desktop was a mess. Orange had fought Alan and ran off.”

“As they should!” Purple said, crossing his arms, “Why are you living with Alan after what he did to you?”

“I mean, well,” Yellow cleared their throat, “Alan really regretted what he did. I don’t think there’s a day that goes by that he doesn’t, probably why he treats us so kindly now. We came to forgive him after a while, but I get it if you feel differently after knowing that.”

Purple didn’t know what to say. Had Yellow said nothing, Purple would still be blissfully ignorant and see the Animator as yet another kindly human. The shock of it left him stunned.

“He asked us to find them, and helped us search. We went out into the city putting up flyers…” Yellow kicked the ground. “But we got nothing. We tried for months before we just gave up. It's been almost two years since we last heard of them.” Yellow whistled. “Hard to believe it’s been that long, huh?”

“Yeah,” Purple’s heart hammered. He nodded, feeling uneasy at the mention of the passage of time. “Can hardly believe it.”

The year wrapped up, and soon Purple’s birthday reared its ugly head again. They already celebrated the gang’s mutually shared birthday, so of course the others wanted to celebrate Purple’s in kind. Purple should have known better than to have told them his birthday was coming. He should have expected it when they invited him to their desktop that day without warning and surprised them with a large cake.

“Happy birthday!” 

Purple eyed the cake, staring at the numbered candles that read “18” on it.

That can’t be real, can it?

“Eighteen, eh?” Green walked up and playfully nudged Purple’s shoulder, oblivious to how still Purple was. “What’s it feel like to be a certified old person?”

It was meant to be a joke, so Green couldn’t know how much it hurt Purple to hear. 

Old. Somehow time slipped past him, and Purple was now officially an adult. And yet he didn’t feel like he was. It didn’t register that he was older now, aging. He would have been a senior by now, a couple months from graduating. He could picture it clearly: wearing the cap, the gown, his mother staring at him with pride…

But no. He was here, a high school dropout, spending his life in a game made for children instead of going to college or finding a job. His mother was gone, and she would never get the chance to see her son become an adult.

She died young, he realized, as he watched the cake with its light pink frosting drip. But she died old.

Would the same fate happen to him?

“Purple? Purple, what's the matter?”

Purple couldn’t hear Blue’s concerned voice over the sudden, gross sobbing that seized him. Purple hid his shame in his hands, trying to push the tears back, but the sobbing wouldn’t stop.

“Hey, was it the joke?”Green asked, shocked, “I’m so sorry. I didn’t mean to…”

He trailed off, unsure as to what had set him off. None of them saw Purple reduce to such tears in the year knowing him. Purple wouldn’t have allowed it before.

“Please, no,” Purple tried to speak through the blubbering, “I’m not ready – I don’t want this. Please.”

Arms wrapped around him, and Purple felt himself being ushered off the desktop and sat down somewhere else. Purple gulped air down, wiping away the streaks as he heard the others trying to calm him down. He noticed that they brought him to their webpage, sitting around the card table. Yellow and Green were beside him while Red and Blue looked across anxiously.

When the sniffling died down did Yellow ask, “What was that all about?”

“Really, Yellow?” Blue frowned at Yellow.

“What? I have no idea what happened!” Yellow said. “I’m sorry Purple, but that was… kinda scary. Did we do something?”

“Is it something about your birthday?” Red asked.

Purple shut his eyes and willed himself to breathe slowly and evenly. Thankfully, they stopped asking their questions as he tried to calm down. 

I never did explain to them about my mother, Purple thought. Despite knowing each other for a year at this point, he found that there was never a good time to explain all of his mess. Of his loss, or why certain days he wanted no contact from them. It was daunting, frightening to even tell them of it.

But when he opened his eyes again he saw the faces of his concerned friends who only wanted to celebrate with him.

They told me their issues, he supposed.

“There’s something I didn’t tell you all…” Purple confessed quietly. “What happened before we met…”

=

“This is where you buried her?”

Purple could only shrug at Green’s question. “There was no body to bury.”

It was a week after his birthday. A week after he shared about his mother’s death, his father’s abandonment, and his reasons for hating his birthday. When Purple admitted that he had not visited her grave since her death, it was Blue’s recommendation for him to go. She emphasized that he didn’t have to or could go alone if he wanted, but he insisted they visit.

Purple forgot that seasons passed for the city, and it was winter. Here they all were, standing in the chill with little in the way of protection. The tombstones were covered in thick piles of snow. The Minecraft daisy they placed before her grave blended in with the ground. 

“It’s strange,” Purple said after a moment of silence, “some days I don’t feel much of anything, I hardly think of her. Other days it hits me like a train, and it hurts so much.”

Yellow let out a small hum in acknowledgement, but otherwise was silent. He, Blue, and Green stared at her grave in silence, while Red was looking around the cemetery, eyes darting from grave to grave.

“You alright, Red?” Purple asked.

“Huh? No, I’m fine,” she said in a rush, made awkward by Purple’s question. “It’s just…” she looked up at the sky, straining to think. “…a lot of graves here.”

“We are in a cemetery, Red,” Green said with bitter sarcasm.

“I know. It’s just… a lot of dead rest here,” Red said, quietly, “it’s been weighing on my mind, I guess.”

Guess she’s just uncomfortable and bored, Purple thought. He empathized with that feeling. He was dreading coming back to the cemetery the whole travel time, fearing that he’d repeat his gross sobbing again. But he didn’t; no tears were shed.

Despite how morose he felt standing before her grave, he felt also at ease with his friends by his side.

“So,” Purple announced, clapping his hands and startling them. “I don’t think you guys really got to see the sights around here. How about you follow me?”

=

Purple didn’t have any cash on hand, so he couldn’t treat them to lunch. But there was a park nearby with a track and field. He figured they would like physical activity even if it was cold.

“It's so lovely out here!” Blue said, taking in the pristine landscape.

“Look! A squirrel!” Red pointed up at the trees.

“I don’t see anything,” Yellow said, trying to peer up through the bare branches. “Are you sure a squirrel would be up during winter, Red?”

Purple and Green stood off to the side, Green chuckling. “I’m not surprised that Red and Blue adore the place.”

“I used to come here a lot when I was a little kid,” Purple said.

“As little as them?” Green asked, pointing out to the field. Children were running around, screaming, throwing snowballs, and making snowpeople. “Wow, they are very small…”

Right, you never really had a childhood like I did, Purple reminded himself. It made him realize that his mother and father were the same as Green; they also never had a childhood the way Purple and his high school peers did.

“You know, you should be grateful you skipped that stage,” Purple said, “I have so many embarrassing memories, let me tell you.”

He waited for Green to say something in response, but when none came, he turned to look. Green had come to a standstill, looking at a nearby park bench with eyes stretched wide in surprise. Purple turned back to try and look for what was happening but didn’t find anything out of the ordinary. There were kids running about, parents eating at a park bench, an orange teen playing swords with their younger brother…

Wait, Purple paused upon seeing the teen. The distinctive hollow head was something Purple only saw once, but couldn’t forget. They were talking with his old high school friends about him...

“Be grateful you never met him. He’d be horrible to you too.”

And Green was staring at them with the biggest grin on his face.

“Guys! Come quickly!” Green called Red, Blue, and Yellow over, waving, “It’s Orange!”

“Orange?” Blue exclaimed as they ran over. She rubbed her eyes like she couldn’t believe what she was seeing, “It is! They were here this whole time?”

“What are we waiting for?” Red said, taking off after them. “Come on!”

Green, Blue, and Yellow quickly raced after Red, leaving Purple in the dust.

“Ah! Wait!” Purple chased after them. A little too late, as the group already went skidding up to Orange. The golden child they were playing with, surprised by five random stick figures coming up to them, rushed to Orange's side, hiding partially behind their back.

And Orange shared the same look Green had earlier, shock turned to a disbelieving joy.

“Green? Red?” they said, “Blue and Yellow too? I thought you were-”

“Yes!” Green laughed. “We’re here! And we’re okay, see?”

“Oh my goodness!” Orange jumped up to hug Green, “I thought you were dead!”

“We got better!” Yellow said, joining in the hug. “I thought we would never see you again!” Red and Blue joined as well, creating a rainbow group hug.

You only knew them for a day and haven’t seen them in years! Purple balked at the sight of his friends hugging a stranger. He stood off to the side, staring and then looking at the child who looked just as bewildered and confused as he felt. 

This kid feels familiar too, but I can’t place where I saw him?

The child regarded Purple with similar recognition, his eyes squinting in judgment. Recovered from the shock, they charged into Orange’s friends, trying to shove and push them off of the hollow head.

“Get away from Second!” He shouted, smacking Red with his shoulder.

“Hmm?” Given that the child was half Red’s size and bulk, she broke from the group and looked down with curiosity. “Who’s this?”

The others broke the hug and turned their attention to Gold. Upon seeing muscular teens and his pitiful efforts to push them off, the kid shrank back a couple steps.

“Come on, Gold, don’t be rude!” Orange said, rubbing the kid’s shoulder, “Guys, this is my little brother, Gold.”

“Aww, a little brother?” Blue cooed.

“Hey! Same color as me!” Yellow said, holding his hand out for a high five.

Gold eyed their hand nervously. “I’m darker,” Gold corrected, crossing his arms.

“Only a bit,” Yellow said, holding his thumb and index finger an inch apart.

“How did you get a little brother? What have you been up to this whole time?” Green asked. “We tried looking for you…”

“You have?” Orange said, placing a hand on their cheek, “this whole time? I’m so sorry, I didn’t know.”

Green exchanged a concerned look with Yellow and Blue as though that was a strange statement. Only Red didn’t seem bothered.

“Oh, come off it,” Red waved her hand, “you couldn’t help it! We should just be glad to meet again despite it all!”

Orange beamed at Red. “Yeah! You have to tell me what you’ve been up to?” They said, their eyes turning to Purple, “Like, who’s this?”

The suddenness of being acknowledged caused Purple to flinch slightly. Their curious stare made Purple feel like he shouldn’t be there at all.

“This is our friend, Purple,” Green said, “We met him through Minecraft!”

There, it was - only for a second, but Purple could see the moment Orange registered the name. The smile dimmed, eyebrows lowered before returning to normal.

Were they wondering if I’m that Purple their other friends talked about? He thought, feeling his palms sweat. The horrible high school dropout?

If they did, they didn’t comment. Instead they turned back to Green to continue the conversation. “Minecraft?” 

“It’s a video game!” Green said, “Ah, man, we got so much to tell you.”

“Same here!” Orange said, “It’s time for lunch anyways, and I have money saved up.” They looked down at Gold. “How about you, feeling up for some hot chocolate and pastries?”

Gold looked up at Orange like it was a bad idea before nodding anyways. 

“Awesome! I’m starved!” Red said, pumping her arms up.

And I feel sick, Purple thought.

=

That fateful meeting changed everything. Now that the gang was reunited with their old friend, they were desperate to reconnect. Purple and Gold felt like accessories, watching as the five conversed with each other.

Only, Gold joined in to ask his curious questions more often, slowly warming up to the new stick figures. After the conversation was over and it was time for them to head home, Gold had taken a strong liking to them.

Purple couldn’t say the same. Orange spoke of school and their after-school curriculars. They were positively thriving: a Straight-A student, getting an A+ in an honors math class no less, becoming their soccer team’s team captain… Oh, and on top of being brilliant in sports and academics, they were a prolific artist. They even pulled out a stunning piece of art from their pocket to show them.

Oh, how Purple hated them. 

He thought he couldn’t hate anyone more than he hated his father, but no, that didn’t hold a candle to the burning disgust he had for this stupid and apparently perfect stick figure! Didn't help that the others loved them to bits. Even after heading back to the desktop, with promises to meet up again, they talked about Orange the whole way back. Purple tried to tune them out, but it was impossible, because he couldn’t stop thinking of them either.

No one can be that great, Purple thought, stomach churning.

“Hey, Purple?” Blue said, “You’ve been quiet for a long time. Are you feeling alright?”

Purple turned his head, his face turning to stone less he expressed how he really felt. Blue was quicker to detect something was wrong, but her concern made Purple rankle.

Oh, I’m sorry, am I bringing down the mood after meeting your better friend? He thought. 

“I think the hot chocolate didn’t sit well with me,” Purple said instead. 

“Need some milk then?” Red asked.

Purple shook his head. “I think I’ll retire for tonight.”

Yellow frowned and looked down at the desktop clock. “It’s only 6-”

“Good night! See you tomorrow!” Purple shouted before booking it out of there. He raced towards his room and closed his door with a slam loud enough to spook nearby villagers. But he couldn’t rest, even when night did fall. Nothing he did could settle the newfound distress in his chest.

It only got worse as the months rolled on and winter melted away into spring. The gang started making plans to visit Orange more often. They wanted to hang at the arcade, the parks, the mall, Orange’s soccer matches and art competitions. They wanted to play with their little brother, Gold. Purple was invited to tag along, but it felt like a formality, as Purple hardly felt included in their conversations when he joined.

Some days, they played Minecraft like normal, adventuring like usual. But there was always that shadow of Orange. So many mentions of “Orange would love this game!” or “Can’t wait to tell Orange!”

Purple struggled to find anything really wrong with Orange personality wise. And believe him, he scoured for any dirt. They were polite, if cautious. They were an attentive listener to the gang’s wild stories. They cared for Gold and their mysterious father figure, Mango Tango. It seemed like the small family were openly proud of Orange’s accomplishments, given the times Gold bragged about Orange.

The gang were unabashedly proud of Orange too, so happy when they met up.

He couldn’t help but wonder, had Orange not run away, would they even be friends with Purple? Was he just a pathetic replacement to tide them over until they found Orange again?

I hate this. Purple thought with resentment. Why am I not good enough for anyone?

At some point, Purple had enough and tried avoiding Orange whenever he could. He declined outings, blaming Alana or some villager for his “full” schedule. Eventually the others could tell he was full of baloney, but they did not try to challenge him on it.

Time played in reverse. At first, they tried to be consistent with their meetups, then they started missing those. Eventually they hung out occasionally every two weeks, then once every month. And the times they did meet up felt stilted, awkward. The games they played weren’t as fun as they were before.

It all came to a head on Gold’s birthday.

The gang wanted to get a present for Gold and invited Purple, out of formality. Much to their surprise, Purple took the invitation instead of declining. Purple wasn’t exactly sure why; he hated Orange and found Gold annoying. But he missed the gang.

How did it get to this point? Why can’t we go back to before you found Orange again?  He wanted to ask, but he kept those words deep in his heart.

Orange met up with them at the mall, greeting them with hugs. 

“Oh, Purple, you’re here too!” they said, standing awkwardly before Purple.

“Yep,” he grumbled, giving them a half-hearted wave.

Just like that, a stilted awkwardness hung over the group. They walked around, looking for a good store and discussing what gifts Gold would like. Usually, Orange lead at the front in these endeavors, but this time they hung in the back, walking beside Purple.

“Sooo, it’s been awhile since I last saw you,” Orange said after some point of silence, “How’ve you been?”

Stop pretending like you care, Purple scowled, only bothering to shrug in response. I’m not your friend.

“You know, I’ve been meaning to ask,” Orange continued, not discouraged by Purple’s coldness, “Do you know someone named Chestnut? Or Periwinkle?”

Purple squinted at Orange. “I might, I might not,” he said, “Why do you ask?”

“Because they might have mentioned you,” Orange said, “that you used to go to our school, but you stopped coming two years ago…”

“Oh, really? Did they tell you because they were worried about me?” Purple asked, “or did they just want to spread some juicy gossip about me?”

To that, Orange looked elsewhere.

“You could clear it up,” Orange said, “they didn’t say many kind things about you, but my friends–” they looked to Red and Yellow arguing with Green and Blue about some tangential thing, “– really like you. And they’re worried about you too. They’ve mentioned you’ve been kind of distant lately.”

“Oh! Oh, really? Because that’s news to me,” Purple snapped. It stung. If they were concerned, why did they not tell Purple? Why tell Orange instead?

No, Purple doubted they said anything. Orange had to be asking for an alternative reason.

 “So you’re trying to see if it’s my fault?” Purple growled, pointing a finger at them.

Orange waved their hands in a panic. “No! No! I’m not-”

“Then why bring it up?” Purple continued. “Right after mentioning my former friends? Oh no, your friends wouldn’t do anything wrong or have the wrong idea. It has to be Purple’s fault! He’s up to his old manipulative ways again! Well, I’m not the one who goes to Alan’s to see if they want to hang out, and finds they’ve bailed on me to go see you! If anything, it’s your fault!”

Orange’s eyes stretched and narrowed. “My fault? It’s not at all my fault they wanted to hang out with me,” Orange challenged. “Besides, they say that you decide to pass when meeting here. They’re allowed to have other friends, Purple!” 

“If they didn’t run into you, everything would be as usual,” Purple yelled, “We would be hanging out and going on adventures! Instead, we’re going shopping for your dumb brother.”

“Don’t you dare call Gold dumb.” Orange yelled back, and it was the first time Purple saw a murderous anger burn in their eyes. They jabbed a finger in his chest and it hurt. “You apologize right now- ”

“Or what? You’ll hit me?” Purple pushed their hands back, “That would make you look real bad, huh? You’d look like a temperamental jerk if you did. What have you been telling them about me? Have you been calling me an umbrella thief? Or an absolute flake? Have you been trying to turn them against me?”

“Shut up!” Orange was shaking with rage. They raised their fists. “What is wrong with you?”

“What’s wrong with you?” Purple repeated.

“Stop it!” Green came in between them before either could say or make another move. “Stop it, both of you!”

Red and Yellow had rushed to Orange’s side to pull them back while Blue grasped at Purple’s shoulders. Both stick figures pushed the offending hands off of them.

Green was looking between them in bewilderment. “What is going on?”

“Nothing,” Orange said, crossing their arms, “Purple’s being a real jackass.”

“Ha! I could say the same about you!” Purple laughed, “You were about to hit me!” 

“Purple,” Green warned, “this isn't like you. Why are you starting fights?”

“Why are you accusing me?” Purple yelled, “You’re taking their side!”

“We’re not,” Blue said, moving beside Green, “but Purple, you’ve been acting really different for a long time.”

“Becoming very bitter,” Yellow added. “You hardly want to hang with us.”

“I hardly want to hang out with you? Me?” Purple snapped. “Maybe I don’t want all my hangouts to be with a loser like them!” He pointed at Orange, and Red had to pull Orange back again. “You guys hang off them as if they can walk on water!”

They all had the gall to be stunned by Purple’s statement. Were they that oblivious to how Purple felt the entire time?

“Purple, we thought we’d never see them again,” Green said, “They thought we were dead for years! What’s wrong with wanting to spend time with them after all the time we lost?”

“I never said you couldn’t,” Purple growled, “but it’s funny how you knew me for longer, and you chose to hang out with them! Every time! Right after I showed you–” He stopped, recalling Orange was there and observing.

Like he’d ever share his past to them.

“Why didn’t you say anything to us?” Red asked.

“I thought it was obvious!”

“We’re not mind readers!” Green snapped, pointing a finger at Purple, “You always do that! You sulk and get mad at us without ever telling us jack! I thought we were over this?”

“Why didn’t you ask?” Purple asked. “You noticed I was being different, and you never thought to ask?”

“You… make it hard to ask…” Blue said, rubbing her arm.

“Right, of course, it's all my fault again!” Purple growled, turning away. As he did, he saw the crowd of shoppers around them, having paused to watch the argument unfold. Given their judging stares, no doubt they saw Purple as the one in the wrong again.

“Purple! We’re not accusing you! We just asked you to tell us,” Green said. He placed his hand on Purple’s arm. “We’re friends. You should feel comfortable telling us how you really feel!”

“Are we really?” Purple asked, yanking his arm back. He glared at all of them, hating how they stood beside Orange. “Are we really friends if you keep blowing me off for someone else?”

Green looked helplessly at him. “Purple…”

But he added nothing more, and Purple turned away.

“Guess that answers it,” Purple said, “I guess this is it, then. I’m leaving. Don’t you dare follow me!”

“Purple!”

Purple ran and didn’t dare look back. Despite what he said, part of him hoped that one of them would run after him, to stop him.

They didn’t.

[respectthepetty]

Pit Babe Jeff x Alan & Kenta x Pete Colors Ep. 11

I'm challenging myself with this show and seeing how good my color skills really are, so I'm doing my normal thing of watching it double-speed on mute, but now, the captions are off also. It's just colors and vibes here.

Disclaimer: I've been listening to Drake's "You Broke My Heart (Fuck My Ex)" on repeat for over two hours, so I'm *in* my feels, and all of them are salty.

Jeffrey, the red? Really?! Is it because you are looking at Barbie suffering and know the truth?! YOU KNOW, MOTHERF*CKER!

Love that Pete's side starts with the blue-est drink because he is a GOOD MAN, while Waymond's side begins with the non-blue side since he cannot pick a side in this color war!

Peter, I know you were a red, but I also notice you in that blue blazer, and the way you look at Waymond. I wish Waymond could see that no matter how much the red may linger, he NEEDS to make a choice. Be blue. Commit to it, Way Way.

Babe is back in black, Alan is blue, and Jeffrey is a LIAR!

"You broke my heart. I had my doubts about you from the start! I swear you're dead to me. Does Mercedes make a hearse? FUCK MY EX!"

All I'm getting out of this is Jeffrey and Charles have a dad and Decanus was the fall guy for this very-dumb-plan. I am not a Dean apologist, but I am very much on his side, without a doubt, no hesitation.

Alan Scale - 12/10. Why?! WHY?! It's not even the damn outfits. IT'S THE RED TUBE OF PRODUCT PLACEMENT Y'ALL ARE SHARING! Are y'all secret agents?! Do y'all have superpowers? What in the hell is y'alls deal?!

KIMBERLY! Not wearing red. I wouldn't either. Fuck them hoes. You're a free man now. I love you and I like you.

Alan, you have never done anything wrong (expect apologize to lying Jeffrey), and you using the blue tube of product placement is healing my soul. I love you. I like you. I respect you.

Pete in the blue shirt too! My holy trinity is coming through. Kimberly, Alan, and Peter, you are good men, and I have never doubted you. You three will save the day like the PowerPuff Girls. Sugar, Spice, and Chemical-X. Beat the hell out of Mojo Jojo Big Red. And in case it's not clear: Alan = Buttercup, Kim = Blossom, Pete = Bubbles

Kentana, why do you have spies at Bubbles' place?! You were spying on him in the woods, and y'all had that moment. Why are you so obsessed with him?

Jeffrey, in the blue. Better be telling Buttercup you're sorry for LYING and that you love him. You will never find a better man. NEVER!

Oh, are you telling him that?!

I think you are! There is pink!

Buttercup, these was cheesy af, and I'm disgusted at myself for smiling when the hearts connected.

POP OFF, SIR! Sex on the blue bed!

Sex in the blue shower!

Cuddles in the blue bathroom! Jeffrey is gonna be blue one way or another, even if Alan has to -redacted- it into him.

Big Red did wear red once?! Color me shocked, but who are these kids in the past? A blue kid and red kid? Which one are you, Kentana?

I love that the blue is *right* there next to Kentana, yet he stays in the black. He is a Black Brooder, but he is blue-adjacent, and I just do not understand why he can't be loyal to the blue instead of the red.

Oh, wait! Was that them as kids?! Pete, in his red pants, emerged from the blue (because he has always been a GOOD MAN!), but . . . that means Kentana was the little blue kid? Kentana, what made you go black? The abuse? The manipulation? You and Barbara are the same text, but different font, and I just need you to be better. Kiss Peter and let him heal you because this is the second time you have pushed him against a wall, and I think you want any excuse to be on him.

Waymond, I'm stressed over your ass. Color-coded boys in love get happy endings, and unlike Kentana who is color coded black and Southwest Airlines and Vegas' Hedgehog who are just pure color chaos, you refuse to pick a damn color. And do you know what that means? No happy endings. You are paired with Peter, and he is trying with you, but it's episode 11 and you haven't solidified your color. Are you black? Are you blue? Are you red? Are you gonna kiss Peter because if not, Kentana sure looks like he will? ARE YOU GOING TO GET A HAPPY ENDING?!

Peter, always in the blue! ALWAYS! Give that blue to Waymond. Give that blue to Kentana. And kiss them! I cannot support Waymond and Kentana's wrongs if they don't kiss a boy (with consent, Waymond!)

KENTANA! In the dark, again. Pete is always coming from the blue, and you are always in the dark. SEE THE LIGHT, KENTANA!

Oh my god! The dark versus light. Y'all were best buddies since childhood. Quit your shit, Kentana. You are a good guy in there. I saw it in the beginning when you looked sad that Barbie was being hit, but I need you to act! I need you to do something, and I'm hoping it won't be sacrificing yourself. Kiss a man! Kiss Kimberly already! You and Waymond are scaring me!

OH SHIT!

Pete. Liked. It.

Waymond. Waymundo. Way. I thought you were supposed to be with Peter and Kimberly and Kentana would be the new Kardashians, but . . . are you going to be the sacrifice? You cannot settle on a color. You haven't kissed a man (with consent). You are drinking all the time. You were taking pills to cope with life. Kiss any man so I can know you are safe.

FUCK!

Way, please touch Whiny Winifred and convince him not to do shoot. Way, please do not take a bullet for Barbara to atone for your sins. Barbie can fix himself if he is shot. Way, please do not do this to me. Please. I'm begging you.

Don't. Fucking. Do. It.

[chickenkurage]

Honestly why do I feel like CSCorruptedAlan would feel much more attached to null than ever after managing to actually escape together (I MISS HER SMM NULL WAKE UP YOU NEED TO BE THERE FOR YOUR SON- *AHEM* FOR ALAN-)

Like think about it! She stayed with him and tried all of her best to help and keep him safe from things for three whole weeks, didn't leave his side at all and would offer him comfort too during all of those days. Despite sometimes having some delusional thoughts about null leaving him like how he thought everyone else did by not "searching" for him at all for three weeks, he manage to still have a lot of trust for her! (At this point typing all of this down seems like this alan will be having trust issues and definitely some bad people pleasing behaviors too.....) but I can also see null being somewhat patient and understanding towards alan about them and still stayed by his side anyways which that would make him attached to her more, like a child who is attached to one parent only because they're used to a routine with that parent the most

But of course the hollow heads and color gang aka his children are still there in his heart and loves them all deeply too! Because he knows that nothing could ever replace them, despite all of his rage that he has inside of him now... The soul is still being healed by being with children (unless a big misunderstanding happens between them all which makes his rage screw him up a lot probably...... *looks at victim* yeah....)

Also a thought about the original CS!Alan but just actually imagine how his own wife and his own daughter are waiting for him to come back to them... Back to his real family :(....

Oh yeah i agree with this one, CS Alan himself is already kind of attached to Null himself. So CS Corruption Alan would definitely "be more" attached to Null.

Cause yeah! I agree that Null literally stayed with Alan through thick and thin, when all this time she could just run away for herself and save her own hide!! And Alan being Alan, thinking the others had forgotten about him. Alan and Null certainly did build trust throughout that 3 weeks they have been stuck together in that damn hellhole. It's no wonder that Alan would be attached to her, since Null is the only person that has been taking care of him.

In the end, Alan is just like a child. He certainly craves for the love that he always wanted from the others....

Alan's love for his kids would never disappear, even with what happened before he was taken away. I mean I'm sure he had this line.

If it's a bit blurry, here it is;

Your own love will be your weakness, Alan

Soon your ruin will come, from those who you love

Then ruined i will be

I've always foreshadowed that Alan's fall will be in the hands of his children or slash the people he loves, and somehow AB telling Alan this and him accepting it is just...Alan Core!

But again, Alan's love is unimaginable. He truly loves his kids. Even if they are the reason why he's turned out like this in the end. AB has always said that Alan's love was his own weakness.

Even with those "rage" he has, nothing could take over the love he has for all of them. I mean, look at how he accepted the fact that he could "die" because of them???!!! And they still think Alan would put them in danger, and it just hurts ya know?

If it's a bit blurry, here it is;

Do you feel it?

No one cares about you Alan

It's okay

Alan has always accepted that his love will never be requited, or their love will never be as deep and as meaningful as his....

Maybe, just maybe a new "blank slate" would be better for Alan, because all the pain he has been through can make anyone's mind break. It's like keeping a dying dog, just euthanize the dog and let it rest at this point.

And i rest my cause, so make CS Corruption Alan much angstier than mine, i give you the crown!!! - S

[ox-imagines]

Entering an Academy of Ghouls

2.1k words, starring Zenji + Leia, featuring Subaru, Nakami, and Akira, with a special guest appearance by Alan and Tohma

Leia could not wait to get to her dorm. In theory, an entrance ceremony sounded fun. But in practice? It was a small auditorium, which meant not a ton of space to move around and it got uncomfortably warm during the ceremony. On top of that, being on stage in any capacity made her nervous. That was over now, though, and from what she knew about Darkwick, she was mostly happy with her house placement. Hotarubi, an art-based house. Though she did wonder about the part where the purpose of Hotarubi was to preserve Japanese culture, especially pertaining to anomalies. Would she be of any use in that department? She’d only been in Tokyo for two months. When she was sorted into Hotarubi her robes had melded into some sort of traditional Japanese outfit, which already felt inappropriate enough though no one seemed to mind. 

Oh well. Everything would be fine once she got out of the stuffy, loud auditorium, or at least everything would be better. Supposedly the Academy would already have the ghouls’ belongings in their new dorms by the time they got there. Leia just wanted to be there already to see her cat. He was a normal cat, but the Chancellor had agreed he could live on campus, oddly enough after asking to hire him?

A hand landed on the back of Leia’s shoulder as she tried to shuffle out of the auditorium and she flinched. “Oh, I apologize for startling you my dear! I simply wanted to catch up with you to introduce myself and possibly walk back to our dorms together!”

Leia turned to find herself face to face with a very tall boy wearing colorful clothes similar to hers. He beamed at her, long indigo hair framing a pair of sparkling crimson eyes sporting immaculate eyeliner and set behind round-framed glasses. She vaguely recognized him as one of the other ghouls who’d been sorted tonight. “I’m Kotodama Zenji!” He gave a half-bow with a dramatic sweeping motion. “We’re housemates!” His voice was loud and full, resonating with a joyful timbre.

“I’m Leia,” she gave him an awkward smile and stuck her hand out. “Sorry my Japanese isn’t great, I’ve only been learning a few months.”

“I think your Japanese is perfectly acceptable!” He took her hand but didn’t shake it, rather holding it between them for a moment before letting go to loop their arms together.

Something in Leia’s chest ached despairingly at more contact when all she wanted was to just get out of there into the welcoming calm of the night. If she was going to live with and take classes with this guy though she should at least tolerate his attention. He was probably just excited.

“If you ever have trouble with translations, though, I’m your man!” He threw her a wink with a playful grin. “I’m rather fluent in English myself and bear no holds in aiding you if or when you need,” he bestowed another gracious smile before his expression fell a bit. “Are you feeling unwell? I may not know you well but I wouldn’t say you look like you’re having a good time.”

She fixed him with another half-hearted smile. “Sorry; I’ve certainly been better. Everything’s just… a lot. I was actually on my way out of here.”

“Oh! I understand, you don’t find crowds favorable? My younger brother gets that way sometimes. Here, let’s get on our way.” Without hesitation, his arm tightened around hers and he forged a way through to the exit. “You know, I don’t believe I saw our new captain or vice captain here tonight. Wait, I do think Vice Captain Kawakami was in the audience for a while, but he mustn’t’ve stayed the whole time. Oh, and there was another ghoul sorted to Hotarubi tonight, wasn't there! I suppose he slipped out unnoticed just after the ceremony ended. Now, let us figure out where we’re going… this way, if I’m correct.”

For a few minutes, he couldn’t seem to stop talking, but he took notice of Leia’s quietness at his side as they walked across campus and calmed. A part of Leia wished she was alone so she could just put in her earbuds and enjoy the evening walk, but it wasn’t all bad already having a new friend in such an unfamiliar place, she supposed. That, and she had no clue where to go. It didn’t seem like Zenji knew much more than she did in that department unfortunately.

“Horsefeathers,” Zenji sighed as he stared at his phone screen. “I’m not even much of a tech man but why are things here so archaic? I don’t see any good reason to have to print a grounds map from the library and have no online equivalent. Of course the library is closed at the moment. It would've been rather helpful if our dear vice captain had stayed long enough to escort us back to our housing.”

Leia sighed tiredly in response.

“Excuse me?” Zenji dragged her over to a boy he could rival in height but not in frame. Zenji also couldn’t possibly match the unnervingly serious energy emanating from the boy, Leia thought. “Could you please direct us toward the Hotarubi grounds?”

A soft, derisive laugh sounded from somewhere on the other side of the large boy. “He won’t be able to help with that, I’m afraid. Lucky for him I found him wandering around trying to find his way to our house.” A boy only slightly smaller in stature than the first stepped closer, ashen hair taking on an almost pink tint in the sunset. He had the sharp, playful eyes of a predator but in a stunning cornflower blue color, and a pretty face to match. A yellow hoodie was zipped up most of the way over a black mesh shirt; a Vagastrom student. Leia hadn’t noticed until then but the other boy was also in yellow-accented streetwear. “I guess you both are lucky too then,” the blonde spoke again, tilting his head slightly. He raised an arm to gesture southeast. “Hotarubi is that way.”

“Thank you kindly, friend!” Zenji grabbed the Vagastrom’s hand and shook it, taking the boy by surprise. Fortunately, he just chuckled again.

“No problem. Have a safe walk back,” he nodded politely to Leia before turning to lead his housemate on their way.

“He was helpful!” Without further ado, Zenji dragged Leia off in the direction the Vagastrom student had pointed them in. “It’s certainly a pretty campus! There are worse places to be left to wander around.”

“Well, I’m glad you’re enjoying yourself,” Leia grimaced tiredly, fighting to keep up with the ghoul’s long-legged strides.

“Here at last!” Zenji exclaimed, entirely too cheerfully in Leia’s opinion. They were both soaked from the apparently constant rain that showered Hotarubi’s grounds and it had taken much longer than she would’ve liked to get there, rain or not. For better or worse, though, their walk together had finally come to an end. They stood on the porch of a traditional Japanese structure, the building they’d be living in.

Leia raised an eyebrow in thought, but then frowned. “Damn it, these clothes probably aren’t fireproof,” she muttered.

Zenji gave her a slightly confused head-cock. “What was that, my dear?”

“Oh, sorry, it was nothing.”

“A-alright. Shall we go inside, then?” Without awaiting a response, Zenji opened the door. Warm lighting and the aroma of tea and incense greeted them, beckoning them in from the rain. Three boys sat on the floor around a tea table, drinking a light but fragrant blend. One was damp, and all three were still in their traditional clothing that served as their house uniforms. 

“Ah! Welcome!” The one furthest from the door stood quickly and gave them a deep bow, fluffy lilac and silver hair floating around his hair like a halo as he dipped. The boy next to him shot him an alarmed look at his sudden movement that melted into one of exasperation. “I’m the Hotarubi captain,” the lilac-haired boy greeted them warmly before turning away to cough into his elbow.

“Fuck, Nakami,” the boy at his side mumbled and stood, setting a hand on the captain’s back. His robes were primarily scarlet, with black accents and cranes flying over them. Long, black hair hung down past his shoulders, hanging in his face as he concernedly surveyed his captain with gleaming pink eyes. “I’m the vice-captain, Kawakami Akira. Our captain here is Furukawa Nakami.”

“I’m fine, Aki.” Nakami pulled a hair tie off his wrist and carefully moved Akira’s hair off his face. Akira lowered his head to allow the other boy to tie his hair back. The captain displayed a serene smile as he turned back to face them, a stark contrast to the coughing fit he’d just had. His eyes were the color of a fresh, ripe orange peel and held a startling depth, his robes brightly colored in patterns of burnt orange and teal and cream. Whereas Akira’s shirt under his robe was a turtleneck, Nakami’s sported a rather low cut, showing off the top of a large, colorful moth tattoo sprawling across his chest, as well as a nasty-looking old scar trailing over his shoulder. “You’re both soaked! You didn’t get lost on your way here, did you?”

“I’m afraid we did, Captain Furukawa-sama,” Zenji returned his deep bow as he addressed him and the captain chuckled, waving his hands. 

“No need to be so formal, you can just call me Nakami or captain.” The younger ghoul's formal respect had quite amused him, and Akira subtly relaxed as he watched him. “Let’s just get you two dried off. Oh! How could I forget!” Nakami lowered his gaze to the boy still sitting at the table, gesturing for him to stand and introduce himself. “You’re such a quiet little guy,” he chuckled.

“Hello,” the damp boy stood and bowed awkwardly, blinking up at them with large, lavender doe eyes from under a light brown bowl cut. “I’m Kagami Subaru.”

“Pause!” Zenji exclaimed. “The Kagami Subaru? What an honor!” The tall ghoul gave a lofty bow.

Leia glanced between the boys. She was clearly missing something, but she had no clue what. Subaru appeared a bit shy under Zenji’s excitement. He rubbed his reddening neck and glanced away.

“Yes, that’s me.”

“I’m honored to make the acquaintance of such an esteemed up-and-coming actor! I’m Kotodama Zenji.”

Subaru’s polite smile faltered a bit. “Don’t think of me like that, please, I’m no better than anyone else. I’m just your classmate and housemate now.”

Of course, Zenji ignored such a sentiment, glossing over the fact that Subaru had said it at all. “To think that the Kagami Subaru is a fellow ghoul! Well, I look forward to our time together, Subaru!”

Subaru let out a soft, exhausted sigh and chose to turn his attention to Leia instead of justifying Zenji with a response. “Hi.”

“Hi,” she returned his gentle smile and tone. “I’m Leia.”

“Nice to meet you.”

While the first-years acquainted themselves with one another, Akira had quietly slipped out to get towels for Zenji and Leia. He returned without them realizing he’d even left. “Here. Go dry off.” Despite his somewhat serious presentation, the vice captain’s voice was surprisingly caring. “Leia, your room is the first room on the left. Across from your door is the bathroom, and Zenji, your room is the next door on the right after the bathroom. Your belongings are in your rooms already.”

Leia took her towel and bowed before leaving to find her room. As soon as she closed the door, she heard a nervous cry from somewhere in the corner. “Lindor!” She hurried over and kneeled next to the feline’s crate, opening it. He was laying in the back of it, staring at her with rounded green eyes. “It’s alright, you can hang out there.” Standing, she took in the room. It had a sliding door rather than a hinged one, but thankfully had a proper mattress bed, as well as a dresser, a wardrobe, and a nightstand. It was almost as big as her flat the last couple of months had been and had a cozy energy to it. “This is gonna be good for us, I think,” she spoke to her cat and stripped out of her wet clothes, hanging them in the wardrobe to dry. All her housemates she’d met seemed nice, even if she was the only girl among them and Zenji had come off a bit overbearing. She supposed she should go out and join them for tea after changing. “I cannot wait to get in bed, but getting in bed will have to wait,” she gave a resigned sigh and opened her box of clothes.

[pure-garbage]

The Shadow Of Regret? Words That Demand To be Spoken!

Lana carried out her plan in a daze. She stole supplies, hopped aboard a small fishing boat and set out to sea. As the island where she'd been born receded behind her, an unexpected surge of emotion tugged at her heart, surprising her with it's strength. Something still held her back from leaving. She glanced at the darkening horizon, stars just beginning to creep out to cast their light over the deep, blackish-blue of the newly risen night sky.

'Zoro, I'm sorry. There's one more thing I have to do before I come find you.'

She turned the boat around, hiding it in a cove some distance from the port. Under cover of the ever-deepening darkness, she made her way back home. All lights were out in the house except for a single lamp in her mother's room. The lock on the back door hardly posed her a challenge and soon, she found herself in front of her mother's bedroom door, knuckles poised for a knock.

'What am I even going to say?' she wondered, heart pounding as dread battled nauseatingly with anticipation in her gut. 'I know she doesn't hate me after all this time. She brought me in from the town square, lied to everyone to protect me, probably to keep the marines from learning that I'm here. So she must not hate me... even so...'

Lana steeled her nerves and knocked on the door.

"Come in, Alan."

A reasonable assumption. As far as Avariya Avalon knew, she and her son were the only people in the house.

"Actually, Mama, it's Lana," she said, voice just loud enough to carry through the door.

A soft gasp came from within.

"I... I came back to see you. To say good-bye... properly, this time."

The door opened and there stood Lana's mother, eyes full of yet unshed tears as she finally laid them on her long-lost daughter.

"Lana... thank you for coming back," Avalon managed. She opened her arms, an invitation to embrace that her prodigal child accepted hesitantly.

"Mama..."

Lana hadn't come back to apologize. She needed to say something, but what? After all this time, after so many years and so much heartbreak, what words could capture the feeling bursting from her chest? She stopped struggling with herself, settled on something simple as she allowed her mother to clutch her.

"It's... it's so good to see you again, Mama," Lana said, pulling back to share a smile with her tearful mother.

"Alan told me you were in a hurry," Avalon replied. "Won't you at least tell me where you're going?"

"I would, but I don't know yet. I'm setting out to find someone very important to me."

"I see. One of your pirate friends?"

"You... you could say that."

"Lana, I... I've thought about seeing you again for years, about what I would say if you ever came back to me, even just for a minute."

"Whatever you have to say, don't apologize," Lana told her firmly.

"Lana..."

"We both did what we thought was right. You tried your best to protect your family and I tried my best to protect my freedom. Neither of us were wrong... but I was too young to understand that back then."

"I only wanted to keep you safe," Avalon sighed, relief coloring her tone as if vindication was something she'd been waiting for with bated breath all these years.

"Safety and happiness aren't always the same thing," Lana opined gently.

"I know that now. But-"

"Mama, I can't stay long. Someone's waiting for me," Lana reminded her.

"That's what you said last time too," Avalon said, a heavy, weary exhalation escaping her. "But I know this is nothing like last time. And truthfully, the less I know the better. I'm sure it's only a matter of time before word gets out you were here, and when it does, the marines will come looking for you. Just tell me... will I ever see you again?"

Lana smiled at her one last time and squeezed her hand before she turned to leave.

"There's no way of telling, really. We'll just have to wait and see."

Avalon squeezed her hand back with surprising strength, then let her go.

Lana was prepared to finally walk away, but as she passed her brother's room, a touch gave her pause. It was soft, nearly imperceptible, and when she turned to look around, she was still alone in the hall. Alan's door was still closed.

'Did I imagine it? I've been on edge ever since I woke up. If I'm off my game, setting out without resting is even more dangerous... but no! I need to find Zoro! Then reunited with the others! There's no way he'll ever find his way back left to his own devices, not with his sense of direction! I can rest once my course is set!'

Lana could see Zoro's face in her minds eye, hear his grumpy protests as clearly as if he was standing right beside her.

'Give me a little credit, would you Lana? You really think I'd leave my captain waiting?'

Lana smiled to herself as the night air greeted her with a chill, the nostalgic scent of home bidding her farewell for the second time her life.

"You're right, Zoro," she sighed aloud. "I can't wait to see you again. That's all."

She took a few steps before her stride was broken.

"Lana! Wait up!"

"Alan! Not this again!" she groaned.

"Don't worry, I know you won't take me with you," Alan grumbled. "But I can't let you leave without this. You dropped it."

Lana's eyes widened in shock as Alan held out her vivre card.

'No way in hell I dropped it! So that touch I thought I felt...'

"Wow! Good thing you noticed!" Lana exclaimed, playing along slyly as her mind raced and she considered what she should do next.

"Yeah, well... bye now, I guess... huh?"

Lana pulled the green vivire card from her cloak and held it up to hers for size. As she suspected, the purple one had been carefully cut. It was now smaller by about a half-inch than Zoro's.

"You really wanna come with me so bad that you would steal from me?" Lana asked.

"Whaaaat?! I didn't-"

"Relax. You can keep the card," Lana assured him. "How do you know what it is?"

"I spend a lot of time talking to the merchants who pass through. Some of them come from the new world. I learned about Vivre cards from them," Alan explained.

"Impressive. Not as impressive as those pickpocket skills you've got," Lana went on. "Being able to take something so precious from me without me noticing isn't a feat I can just shrug off. When did your sleight of hand get so good?"

"You weren't the only one who had to deal with Mama's locks," Alan reminded her. "After you left, I had to make my own way out of the house. If I can take Mama's keys, there's nothing in the world I can't get my hands on."

Lana heaved a long, heavy sigh.

'No wonder Mama gave up on the locks. I had no idea the kid was so damn persistent. He must have worn her down completely after a few years.'

"Damn it, kid," she growled. His persistence posed a problem. The dangers of traveling with her were nothing compared to what he would face if he tried to follow her alone. She could take the card back from him by force, but that didn't guarantee he would stay put, only that he wouldn't be able to find her once he set out in pursuit.

"To tell you the truth, I was planning on leaving soon anyway," Alan informed her, hands on his hips. "But I want to come with you! You showing up here now is fate! It has to be, there's no other explanation!"

"Fate doesn't mean a damn thing to me," Lana grumbled. 'At the end of the day, he's just like me. Once he gets an idea in his head, it's impossible to get it out.'

"Why? Why are you leaving this island?" Lana sighed. She already knew his answer. She knew that her brother was driven by the same desire that had always gripped her. She had to hear him say it before she could move forward.

"Duh. I want to be free," Alan declared.

A small smile tugged up the corners of Lana's mouth, despite herself. Danger, pain, death... Alan's heart was true enough to overcome any hurdle the seas could throw their way.

'It would be nice not to be completely alone anyway. An extra pair of hands will make sailing a lot easier. We can split watches as well... this could work out.'

"If you're coming, just try to keep up, at least," she called over her shoulder.

Alan sprinted after her with a grin.

"So, are you just fully committing to this pajama look?" he asked blithely.

"Don't test me, I can still knock you out and leave you here."

"Right, right."

__________________________________________________

<== Previous Chapter

Next Chapter ==>

== First Chapter ==

[practically-an-x-man]

more thoughts about Wish:

Chris Pine has the best voice acting in this movie by far. Dude could be a legitimately scary villain if the animation wasn't so goofy

I'm telling you dude, the man is acting his ass off but the script and animation style are just ruining all the emotion he's giving

Alan Tudyk is also putting in the work but the script is not working in his favor

Evan Peters needs more lines. His character is legitimately interesting, a young guy who just gave up his wish and is now weirdly lethargic all the time, but they don't explore it enough

Speaking of the animation, it felt very inconsistent. With the King especially we'd get like... one cool moment (like him stopping the globes during his solo song) but then it's immediately cut by these goofy Nimona-as-Ballister type motions

The facial expressions are generally overblown, past the point of "animation stretching the rules" and into "this just looks goofy"

Like I said before, it feels like a patchwork of a dozen other, better Disney movies. My dad and I were watching this going "Tangled. Brave. Frozen. Peter Pan. Mulan."

The third act is like... Rise of the Guardians meets that one scene in Trolls where they sing True Colors

The music is just inconsistent. I think it mainly comes from the fact that they had a pop singer/songwriter do the music rather than a musical theatre composer, there aren't any consistent themes or leitmotifs and it leaves everything feeling very disjointed.

Some of the songs on their own are decently catchy but they just feel like they're trying way too hard

The dialogue is the same way. It serves a purpose but it doesn't quite feel natural or human. Some characters are worse than others and the VO work plays a role but the script itself is just awkward

I think they've just set up too many characters here. If they took two people out of Asha's friend group it would leave more room to develop the others. As it is, I don't remember their names and I have no idea what they want

Except for Asha since she's the main character and Simon because he's the only one who stands out from the rest (again, really interesting character! drastically underutilized!)

Feels like the talking animals are only a thing because it's a Disney movie. Valentino I understand, animal sidekicks are a classic, but the chickens and squirrels and mice are just too much

As a whole there's just... no substance in it. It feels like they've tried to make The Disney Movie and just started making it without even deciding on the themes or characters' journeys at all

It is a heaping pile of deus ex machinas. Every single problem in this movie is resolved in some cheeky little deus ex machina, solely for the sake of a stupid joke or a cheap reference to another Disney reference

If you're gonna copy Lin-Manuel Miranda's composition style anyway... just hire Lin-Manuel Miranda. At least he knows how rhyme schemes and leitmotifs work

This movie is so fucking trite it makes me legitimately angry

Good points I guess (because I refuse to dish on a movie without pointing out something decent about it):

Some of the songs are kinda catchy

There are a few powerful moments of animation, mostly with the King

There are little gold character moments here and there: the King's desperation for power, Simon's character as a whole, Asha's selflessness sparking the initial wish, etc.

Some of the voice acting is legitimately good!

The concept itself is interesting, a King who hoards wishes to make himself more powerful. It had the grounds to be a much better movie, it just didn't act on them very well

The diversity in this movie is genuinely good! We see various demographics of people - race, gender, physical build, disability, etc. - and there's not much "Disney same face syndrome" like we've gotten in other movies.

[genderqueer-karma]

AHHHHHHH (putting this under a read more so you can just scroll. nothing personal i just know y’all don’t give a fuck ♡)

okay so if you’re not new here you know i have a personal beef with moi-même-moitié, the gothic lolita fashion brand started by the one and only mana様 back in ‘99.

why? if you’re also familiar with the brand you know that in recent years the quality has been unfortunately decreasing. dare i say severely. still not the worst, but yk.

moving on, however, there’s this new one-piece (dress), officially called the “sleeping garden” long one piece, that they’re releasing on this friday, 25 aug, that initially had people kinda peeved for a myriad of reasons; most notably the way its blue color way looked in conjunction with its pattern.

i won’t lie when i say that some of these comments made me laugh… i don’t remember who said it, but their comment was essentially “this dress looks like something that would be in a slideshow with alan walker music playing behind it”… maybe i giggled.

like always, in addition to this, people complained about the fact this dress was most likely 70-100% polyester (a very cheap, artificial fiber based on cotton) yet would no doubt cost upwards of 300 usd. (it doesn’t, afaik, but it gets very close. rough estimate says 40k jpy is somewhere in the range of 260 - 280 usd 💀)

the probability that m-m-m have seen these complaints is not low. in fact, people were quote-tweeting the announcement(s) with their negative/joking comments.

so what’s the deal w/ me rn?

they released a new image today. of mana himself wearing the sleeping garden one piece, but in its gray/black color way. and, to put it plainly:

he. looked. NICE. absolutely BEAUTIFUL.

i always think that about him, but i feel like the game was stepped up a bit. new, super long wig with a hime cut, glitter under the eyes… (cunty honestly.) they really want to sell this. maybe because this is a new item?

however, i’m still a bit peeved. moitié heard the complaints and did *nothing* (because why would they? a company will do what a company does best.)

they kinda waited* for people to move on and then dropped the photo, basically trying to say, “hey! look! see? mana様 likes this! you like him, don’t you? so why don’t you like this?” ‘this’ being a plastic dress that’s way too expensive for what it’s made of. and i think it’s a bit of a pattern they continue to fall into.

*(technically, they did continue to post about it, but nobody really noticed/cared. it wasn’t until they released this new image that people were like “yo! new mana image!!!” basically forgetting their complaints.)

they fail to address issues people have with them and then kinda just put it on mana to make them look better? it’s kinda gross and weird imo.

originally, this post was just gonna be me gushing about how beautiful/ethereal/etc mana looked in the new pictures but then i got to thinking again, which culminated in this.

also let me be 100% clear (if you made it here?): i am not dissing mana or the vision he had for moitié as a brand back in the 90s. however. even in all my love for him i understand intrinsically that moitié now is a company above all else. not a friend, not even mana, really. a company. and one that has kinda shot business practices as of late.

thank you for coming to my talk 🫡

[krakenoid]

The Worst Blowjob I Ever Gave

Most people have a type of person they're attracted to. This is just normal personal preference, utterly mundane. However, there is the far less common, possibly supernatural inverse- a specific type that is attracted to you. For a friend of mine, that type is hyperspecific: brunette female social workers named Mary who wear glasses. So, when my friend Mary said she was going into social work, I advised her to stay away from him lest she be drawn into his particular gravity well. This story, however, is not about him.

See, the type of man who is attracted to me is best described as "dudes who figured out I was bi a long time before I did." (It's no wonder that, since coming out, my already sparse romantic prospects dried up near-entirely.) It was one such man who received the worst blowjob I have ever given.

I was in my first year of college before I dropped out, in the midst of a deep, deep depression and subsequent ego death. Ego death, as I've had it explained to me, is the complete and utter loss of your sense of self. I knew on an academic level that I was Alan Aubrey, but I couldn't make the connection between me and the thing that stared out at me from the mirror. So, knowing that, I'm sure you understand the lengths to which I was willing to go to feel human again.

I met him at a party that I didn't really want to go to. I'm not sure what drew him to me, as I was sitting on a couch and staring deeply into a red solo cup filled with equal parts Mountain Dew and Smirnoff, which I had only taken to be polite. He was your stereotypical frat boy. Picture a frat boy in your mind. Yep, that's him. In part to protect his privacy, and in part because I've forgotten his name, we'll call him Chunt. Chunt was dressed in salmon-colored shorts and a lime green polo with the collar popped up. Christ, he was wearing fucking *loafers.* We got to talking, or rather he started talking to me and I occasionally interjected with a question or a joke. I was nervous both because of the unique combination of anxiety, ego death, and an autism-spectrum disorder and because I was noticing him in a way I had only noticed a few guys before.

I won't bore you with my extremely awkward attempts at flirtation, but an hour or so later we were in his dorm room, watching a pirated version of John Wick with Polish subtitles that could not be disabled. It was exactly like every other date you go on in college: Hanging out in a dorm room identical to your own, on a mattress exactly like your own, making out and only half paying attention to one of the most influential action blockbusters of the last decade. Eventually, he got his dick out, as one does.

It's worth noting, dear reader, that I had never given a blowjob before. I resolved to give it my level best and hoped that it would awaken some innate dick-sucking talent within me. Five minutes later, it had not. Ten minutes later, he was watching Fortnite clips on his phone. He didn't even nut. Do you know how humiliating it is to have one of the most stereotypically horny demographics on a college campus get bored of you sucking him off? Eventually, realizing my ministrations were doing more harm than good, I excused myself and exited Chunt's life forever.

I like to think that it was something like Robert Downey Jr. turning his life around and getting off hard drugs after eating a really bad cheeseburger. Maybe my futile attempts at fellatio somehow changed the trajectory of his life, hopefully for the better. I hope that he at least came to a realization, if not to my efforts. Perhaps he's on a different path now, but I'll never know and I don't particularly want to. I think it's best for both of us to leave that behind. Wherever Chunt is now, I wish him the best, and thank him for helping me realize that I am in fact bisexual, and also that I have standards.

[w-ht-w]

non-dualism

Is it okay to use hierarchies/compartments to label people?

Would it be better to view people with more homogeneity/non-duality? Treating/entrusting them all in the same manner? 

I think we should use labels/language to help guide our actions, while acknowledging they are inherently dualistic/imperfect representations of a constantly-changing reality. Labels/language help to communicate where we are now, to help guide our actions in the present. Until everything changes once again.

To understand non-duality is to appreciate that the concepts we use to demarcate the world are human constructions. Things-in-themselves possess neither color, warmth, wetness or solidity — these attributes are the sense our minds make of reality,

Mental concepts are powerful entities that shape and guide our perception and action. The mind draws borders between countries, even though the Earth seen from space has no boundaries. 

The mind creates dualities based on skin color, religion, and nationality, setting ”us” apart from ”them.” It establishes ego boundaries separating ”mine” from ”yours,” and ”self” from ”other.”

“good” and ”bad” depend on each other for existence, and on humans whose needs and predilections define them. 

This is a conceptual understanding of non-duality, but Buddhism points to an understanding beyond the conceptual, and this is where Zen makes an extraordinary claim — that it’s possible to directly apprehend non-duality, not as a concept but as reality itself — that it’s possible through zazen or koan study or happenstance to have moments when the conceptual map drops away and we’re left seeing the world and ourselves in an unmediated, startlingly new way. 

I can’t tell you I’ve had this kind of direct apprehension of non-duality. I can’t even imagine what the phrase ”direct unmediated experience of non-dual reality” actually means. 

The main point of the Sandōkai, however, isn’t that non-duality is the ultimate way things are — or should I say — the ultimate way things ”is”. It’s about the harmony of duality and non-duality, the relative and the absolute. The interdependency of all things is true. But so is our natural way of perceiving the world of separate, individual, and unique things. Just as this table in front of me is real and solid in its everydayness, although science informs us it is mostly empty space. Both realities are, in some sense ”true.”

The Sandōkai asks us to view the world with bifocals, to live life at the crosshairs of the relative and the absolute, to understand that ”relative” and ”absolute” are the same, like ice and water.

Language is inherently dualistic, and explaining non-duality through language is, as Alan Watts put it, a matter of ”effing the ineffable.” But what choice do we have? We either remain silent, or we point beyond words through words. (1)

How does this bi-focality, this double vision, affect our everyday lives? 

Imagine you’re with another human being trying to get them to behave in a certain way. You’re involved in a negotiation. You have an objective. You want something for your efforts. You want to present your case, influence the other, help him or her to get to ”yes.” You have your toolbox. You can be eloquent, logical, manipulative, charming, or threatening in turns, depending on the situation. Maybe you want your boss to give you a raise. Maybe you’re trying to convince an enemy to surrender. Maybe you’re courting a loved one. This is all legitimate human activity. You want to do your best. 

Now imagine you’re putting on your bifocals. Now you see that your [boss, enemy, lover] is no different from yourself. Your [boss, enemy, lover] doesn’t exist independently. He or she is — like you — ... is expressing itself in this moment. This [boss, enemy, lover] is one of countless beings you’ve vowed to save. This [boss, enemy, lover] is a perfectly realized Buddha, here to save you. 

Bifocal perception changes the feel of the negotiation. You still want what you want, but now you’re as interested in the other person’s well being as your own. Your relationship has shifted, from I-It to I-Thou and beyond. The other is no longer simply your objective, but yourself as well.

Bi-focality also helps us understand that nothing’s personal. Hurricanes, tornados, and disasters don’t happen to us. They just happen, and we just happen to be there at the time. It’s the same when others behave badly towards us. The other person’s behavior is the product of one-thousand-and-one antecedent causes and conditions — all of history conspiring to bring us together in just this way. From the perspective of the absolute, it has nothing to do with the other person or us. We’re like tectonic plates being shoved up against one other by powerful geological forces. If we can see this moment as the end product of the ongoing unfolding of the universe, we can take things less personally, be less egoistically involved in our misfortunes. 

This is not to deny our responsibility for our actions. The absolute and the relative are equally real. No one is left off the moral hook. But if we can loosen our egoistic involvement, our personal saga of victimization and righteousness, if we can wear our suffering like a loosely fitting garment instead of our core identity, new possibilities are free to emerge. (1)

Possibilities like forgiveness, negotiation and healing.

1. https://www.existentialbuddhist.com/tag/nonduality/

[robots-here-and-there]

Now that I've gotten some sleep and feel more awake, I can't help but feel that I need to give some context for people to better understand my random thought.

So quick and small info dump; when computers started to become a thing in the mid 1900s, Alan Turing (an English mathematician, computer scientist, logician, cryptanalyst, philosopher and theoretical biologist) created a test in 1950 (which is why the test is named after him) to see how advanced and sophisticated a machine's AI is. The test does so by comparing it against human "intelligence" ("intelligence" as in behavior, thought process, problem solving, etc.). If a machine's AI is indistinguishable from, or equivalent to, that of human "intelligence", then it passes the Turing Test.

Cybertronians might be living machines, but they're still machines. So the Turing Test is a test that very much applies to them. And since their "intelligence" is indistinguishable from human "intelligence", they pass the Turing Test with flying colors. Which means that bit of info can be used to argue that cytronians are people just like humans are.

The fact that none of the Transformers series (or fanfics) out there (that I know of) have the autobots'/cybertronians' human allies mention or use the Turing the Test as a way to defend their robotic friends from humans who are racist toward cybertronians is a shame. So it is, in my option, a missed opportunity to add that little bit to the world building of the Transformers franchise.

Random thought; its a shame that no Transformers media ever mentions or make use of the Turing Test.

[inksandpensblog]

Hello inks^-^

erm... dunno how to say it correctly but...

(AvA related) a few months ago, you posted an character analyse that you and your friend made for RGBY.

I wanted to thank you for this, that helped me a lot when I started to make my comics (even tho i put my own twist on the sticks' interpretation/personality so that doesnt follow 100% your analyse oops -u-') and i still use your analyse even now.

ANYWAY, i am very grateful for you sharing your ideas ^-^ Thank you.

but i was curious to know if you also had an analyse for Orange/The Second Coming character. I am curious ouo''

I am wishing you a very good day -u-'

(i love your fanfics by the way, i cant read them all in one go unfortunately, but I love how your interpretation is completely different to mine. Thats so interesting! I love it >w<)

-tulipsempai

Hi Tulip! I’m happy to share, and thank you for waiting so patiently!

One thing I always think of when it comes to Orange is actually something that’s more prevalent in his earlier videos than in his more recent ones: he seems to not…know the pc landscape as intuitively as Chosen One and Dark Lord did (Victim never left the animation program so I can’t really use him to contrast. Though interestingly, Victim and Orange do seem to share an intuitive understanding of the animation program). When Orange breaks RYGB out to play around, he acts like everything is as new for him as it is for them, even though he has a few more seconds (heh) of experience over them. In the early Minecraft videos (The Building Contest), he has to steal the letters from words that are already on the page to get the search result he wants, but by the current arc (Lush Caves) he’s apparently learned how to type it somehow, like Dark Lord does in Showdown.

Keeping that first point in mind, I’ve also noticed that in AvA4, Orange fought Alan in a way that none of the three sticks before him had, and I don’t just mean the “talking.” He’s the only stick whose actions would have consequences for Alan that concerned more than just the integrity of his computer. Impersonating Alan on Facebook and trying to call 911 from Alan’s phone are things that have consequences in the world completely beyond the pc, so I find it interesting that Orange even knew to try things like that when he wasn’t even ten minutes into sentience.

On multiple occasions (AvA4, AvLoL, AvPokemon, AvArcade) Orange is shown forgiving his opponents rather quickly. Once differences have been resolved, he doesn’t seem to hold grudges, and is even willing to initiate, and usually pursue, a friendship in the same instant. His anger doesn’t last long. At the same time, said anger tends to grow pretty rapidly once it starts. Orange goes from 0 to 100 real quick once he’s been upset (AvA4, PvP, AvPokemon, Note Block Battle, Lush Caves, The Ultimate Weapon). My friend Kitty had this to say about Orange’s unique flavor of anger:

@k1ttyadventurer: It feels like Red's anger is more erratic and impulsive (while keeping in mind that fighting is not always his go-to response when angry).

(Actually, it's not Orange's go-to response either. Funnily enough, it may very well be Green's go-to response, though. Green is less impulsive, but it feels like that would be his answer most of the time when angry.)

(Okay, tangent over-)

Meanwhile, if Orange is angry enough to take action, it's very focused. He singles out his target(s) with complete tunnel vision, it feels.

Oh, note that this only happens when he's alone against an enemy.

This is likely the reason why (as I've noticed) Orange performs better in combat when alone.

And even when it’s not real anger, he can still be a little petty when he isn’t getting his way (PvP, Redstone Academy, Texture Pack, Note Block Battle, Parkour), as long as he’s unaware of any danger that would make him feel too wary to be petty. On that note, my friend Jules had this to say:

@skala: It seems to me that he takes on a protective role when he's with the color gang in a new environment, but when he's on his own, or with the others on Alan's pc, the more mischievous aspects of his personality shine through.

I’ve also noticed that Orange is the most habitually domestic of the stickfigures. Many of his free-time activities are some form of simple relaxation (AvYT before the buffering started, Skyblock, The Piglin War, Lush Caves, Animation vs Trash), and he has by far the most basic-looking room in the Minecraft house (yeah Red’s room is tiny and sparsely decorated but he also built a decent-sized rooftop garden for his pets; Orange just has a single orange tulip, one in-game painting, and a fireplace we’ve never seen lit).

Lastly, my friend Kitty handed me an interesting observation on how Orange fights:

@k1ttyadventurer: When he fights the witch alone, he does really well, no mistakes.

When he fights the witch alongside the others, obviously they don't beat her, but more importantly for us, he trips up a few times, even with the others making up for his trip ups.

(Also, just look at him fighting the evil bunny. For some reason, I can't imagine him going that wild and relentless around his friends, and I'm not sure why exactly.)

That’s all I have on Orange for now! Good day (or night, whichever it is for you when you read this) to you!

(I’m so glad you like my fics ^_^ I honestly find the differences between our interpretations super intriguing. Especially with Victim)

[txemrn]

Faded

Book/Pairing: The Royal Romance; Leo x Madeleine

Warning: angst (some dark discussion that would give away the plot); smut 🍋 (awkward, NOT sexy); language

Word Count: 3008 (+/-)

Song Inspiration: Faded by Alan Walker ft. Iselin Solheim (lyrics quoted in the text)

A/N: This is a Royal Roulette, technically, but then again, RR was created specifically for Wacky Drabbles, and I just couldn't get the word count down! Oops! Anyway, this idea came to me when I heard this song, and this story needed to be told. Some of it is canon; some of it is creative canon; some of it, well, we'll call it creativity. lol Any and all of these ideas came from my head, but I acknowledge that others have probably written similar stories (purely coincidental).

Huge special thanks to some of my sweet writing friends: @ao719, @charlotteg234, and @kat-tia801. This took a group effort, and I love you ladies so very much for pre-reading and making this story better. And as always, these characters belong to our friends at Pixelberry!

***

He was a rushing wind; my billowing sails drift me into the unknown, but I don’t care. He’s an incinerating inferno: every tradition I was taught was set ablaze by his touch. My caged heart was unlocked by him; he set the monsters running wild inside of me. In my world of propriety and decorum, he taught me to live; more importantly, he dared me to love.

He broke free: from the customs, our culture, the captivity of our world. He broke free.

Without me. And the mess is all mine to clean up, left with only a picture of our passion--a photo of the love we once shared together. But even that is fading, and will be lost.

I’m alone with my thoughts this morning on my walk. The bite of salt in the coastal breeze tickles my nose, inviting my platinum strands into a carefree dance amongst the sunrise. Adjusting my oversized tortoise-shell sunglasses, my bare toes leave the comfort of the white sand beach only to discover the sting of the barnacle laden steps to the stone jetty. But, the shallow waters never met what I needed. My soul craves to commune with the waves from the deep.

I’m lost; there isn’t enough time in the world to think this through, and yet somehow a decision has to be made. God, where are you now? Was it all in my fantasy? Were you imaginary?

Many described our relationship as ‘destiny’--no, not exactly the romance you read about in foolish fairy tales or hear about in silly love songs. Our families ran in the same spheres of wealth and power. Politics. We are royalty. Since we were close in age, we would spend countless hours together throughout our childhood and teenage years. Being the oldest son to the king, he is--well, he was--the crowned prince of Cordonia; an agreement to our nuptials started well-before my formal training specifically for his social season.

But, something was different about Leo and me. We grew quite fond of each other, a friendship that developed into sharing secret kisses in darkened corners. Was this normal for friendships? Or did we have something deeper? Was this love?

As long as I can remember, I was taught my body was not my own; I was born with a greater purpose, and in that purpose, I would bring honor to my family and my name. I would earn my place in history: a woman who gave of herself everything she could for the sake of a country. Even love.

My reputation is to be held in the highest regard. My efforts in style and wardrobe would be subject to conversation and scrutiny. My eloquence and table etiquette could determine whether or not I’d be fit to be a queen. Every eye movement, every smile, every response could bring honor or dishonor to my family. No one cared about me as long as I presented a pristine package to court, a sacrificial lamb for king and country.

But, when the moment came for me to be chosen as his bride, I felt the swelling of joy inside my chest, bursting like strobes of light for everyone to witness. Suddenly the ideas of ‘the one’ and ‘happily ever after’ that I read about in the great classics teased my senses; I wanted to cry, to scream, to laugh. My body had a sudden thirst, a yearning for him that I didn’t understand.

In my innocence, this could only be one thing.

“Countess Madeleine,” he knowingly grins, “will you do me this honor?”

Swallowing thickly, her jade eyes flutter open at the sound of her name. In a handsomely fit tux, adorning his family colors in full regalia, her future husband, the future king of Cordonia, takes a knee to present the stunning canary solitaire. The dread melts away as the butterflies overcome her nerves.

Keeping with propriety, she nods her head while curtly dabbing away tears. But, something is distracting her: she is to be relishing in her accomplishment of winning the honor, for winning all of the glory, for winning the crown. She is to be the next queen of Cordonia.

But she is overwhelmed by all thoughts of him, her husband-to-be, the father to their future children. Suddenly the life she had been training for didn’t matter; she was betrothed and in love.

Smoothing out the tightness of my heathered linen pants, I take a moment to stare at my empty ring finger. I feel soreness from the collection of tears, but I refuse to allow anymore drop on his behalf. Today is hard enough.

I hug my body, remembering the warmth of his intimate touch. I had kept myself pure for him. Until that night.

Within an hour of making his intentions known to the court, Leo scurries away with his future bride, leaving only a trail of giggles and whispers along the way to his chambers.

Shrugging off his jacket, Leo presses her petite body against the locked door. His hand gently cradles her head, his thumb tracing the length of her jaw. His lips hungrily search hers, wolfishly devouring her mouth before she can react.

“Is this okay?” he whispers under his breath, his smoldering gaze entraps her innocent eyes. Breathlessly focused on his swelling lips, she nods her head dutifully.

He places his hands on her waist before sliding them intently back onto the curves of her ass, grabbing at her fullness under her whimper. A growl becomes his breathing, staring at his prey.

“Do you love me, my future queen?”

Love. Was that love?

The hypnotic rise and fall of the waves is starting to sour my stomach, but the ocean spray is so inviting and calming on my clammy skin. Finding a smooth stone, I seek refuge from the surge of the sea’s tantrum. Relaxing under the gentle rays of the morning sunshine, I close my eyes, only to see him.

He cheats her out of her next breath, his tongue overwhelming her mouth. His eager fingers find the zipper to her ballgown. He paws at her back, his fingers brushing against the secret skin of her body.

Her bra tosses to the wayside; admiring his new found treasure, Leo’s hands plunder her supple curves. His mouth plummets to her hardening nipples, his teeth teasing her nerves with fear. The sudden twinge of pleasure thrashes her head against the door.

“Shall I continue, beautiful?” he exhales, catching his breath; but, before an answer is uttered, he stumbles back into the temptation of her perfect body. His fingers tease across the waistband of her petal pink briefs; her eyes cinch closed, her mouth unable to hold back a moan.

“Someone is enjoying themselves,” he chuckles, standing to tower over her. He kisses her cheek, leaning his mouth close to her ear. “Is this what you want?” He tucks a strand behind her ear.

“Mhmm,” her lips curl slightly, leaning into his touch.

“Do you like what I am doing for you?”

“Yes,” she softly groans.

“Yeah?” He reaches into her panties, her knees buckling to the wandering of his fingers. “Mmmm,” he pulls his hand out, licking his fingertips, “that’s my good girl. You love my touch.” He stands back, shaking off her body. Locking his eyes with hers, he casually steps backwards until he reaches the bed. He slides off his belt, unfastening his slacks.

“Come here,” he motions for her to step closer. “Show me your love for me.”

Madeleine’s eyes focus on his growing girth, bulging from his unzipped pants; but, then her gaze darts around the room. Surely he knows that she isn’t well-versed in such endeavors.

“Maddie?” he combs his fingers through her blonde tresses. “I love you. You know that, right?”

She closes her eyes. The words send a jolt of happiness through her veins. She was experiencing love. She was prepared for everything else, but this?

"Then, let me show you,” he growls, pushing her back onto the bed. Hungrily ripping off her panties, he exposes her to his touch. Youthful and pure. "Are you ready?"

He spreads her legs apart, her thighs trembling. She grips the sheets with her tiny fists. Her doe-like eyes stare into his hunting blues as she feels him touch her again; but this time, it wasn't his fingers.

With an inexperienced push of his hips, red flashes before Madeleine's eyes as she squints her eyes in pain, hiding the gathering of tears. He thrusts again; her teeth gnash at the breaking of her body. Her head thrashes back and forth, groaning as she serves a penance under his rhythmic plunges into her warm, narrow core again and again. Harder and harder. Faster. Deeper.

Without warning, the beating of her body stops, leaving her stretched, completely filled with him. Moaning her name in the company of obscenities, his breathing becomes quick and shallow despite his efforts to slow down. Sweat gathers across his brow as he savors the delicate tightness of her depths. Stumbling into his ecstasy, he loses control, pouring himself into her. The sudden rush of fullness makes her whimper, the sting begins to dull as a smile crawls across her face. His lips meet her soft, glowing skin. Finally, it’s over.

That night: it was so long ago. But, I can still feel it; I can still feel him. The smell and taste of him lingers on my tongue. I miss him.

And with that, my breathing labors as I choke out a sob. I press the back of my hand to my lips as tears cloud my vision from the Mediterranean horizon. A sour pang creeps up my throat as I cradle my tender belly with my other hand. Clenching my eyes closed, I hope to hold back the downpour of tears from my soul. God, please not again.

Madeleine's head rests on Leo's shoulder, his strong arm securely around her exposed body. Her marigold diamond catches the pale moonlight perfectly, it's brilliance mesmerizing the bride-to-be as she subtly teeters her hand on his well-structured chest. He suddenly engulfs her hand with his. Turning towards him, her lips meet his perfectly like the final piece of the puzzle, locking seamlessly in place.

"Runaway with me, Madeleine."

The flecks of evergreen in her eyes sparkle with curiosity. "What--?"

"This life, Maddie," he gently rubs her back, "is this really the life that you want-- that you'd want for us?"

She sits up, taken aback from the peculiar question. "You mean the life we're living right now? Us? Being engaged?”

“Yes--I mean, no. I--” Leo stumbles over his words, dragging his hand across his face. “I love you, and I want to be with you--” he pushes a platinum strand behind her ear, “--but do you ever wonder what it’s like out there? Out in the real world? Away from all of this pressure? Away from all of these rules?”

“Away from the public eye? Living life--” she titters into a big smile, “--like everyday people?"

"Yes." He sighs, pressing her hand against his heart. "Before long, we will be in charge. In charge, Maddie. Of an entire country." There is a quake in his voice, a quiver that even makes her feel chilled. "I don’t think I’m cut out for this,” a breath hitches in his chest. “Will I even be a good king?"

“Of course," she whispers, offering a doting smile, “Of course, Leo," her voice becomes stronger, authoritative. “You can do this. You were made for this. And while, yes, you are the king, you’re not alone.” She laces her fingers with his. “You’ll always have me. You have my support--” she kisses the back of his hand, “and most of all, you have my love.” She leans down to kiss his hand again, but rather he captures her in his arm, bringing her to his lips, making her squeal.

“I love you, Madeleine.”

She moans into his pout as he kisses her once more. “I love you, too, Leo.”

The creaminess to his baritone voice dissipates from my memory, fading away much like our love. How could I have been so foolish? I gave him everything--I promised him everything. My life, my whole existence was for him, and I naively thought that love would somehow stitch us together, that somehow we would be the monarchs that did have it all. Wealth. Power. Love. A happily-ever-after that could join the rankings of the greatest love stories ever told.

But, it wasn't enough. I wasn't enough.

The sudden rapping on the door abruptly wakes Madeleine from a deep sleep. The sunlight pours mercilessly through the windows as she grabs the sheets to cover herself.

The door suddenly tramples open, Constantine bounding first into the room, followed by his head guard Bastien. “Where is he? Where’s Leo?” The king sneers as the blonde trips out of bed, reaching for clothing. “For God’s sakes, couldn’t you two show some fucking self-control?”

Madeleine cinches the high-thread-count sheet around her body, leaving her slender shoulders and décolleté exposed. As a blush crawls across her face, the question begins to haunt her: where is Leo? He wasn’t in bed this morning. In fact, his clothes are missing from their disheveled heap that was next to her discarded dress. His watch and cell phone were missing from the bedside table. But, otherwise everything seemed to be in place.

Madeleine rushes to the ensuite bathroom, hoping to find a logical clue to Leo’s whereabouts there.

"Call him. Now," the king growls at the anxious countess.

"He's not answering us, Countess Madeleine. We assume given your current relationship with his majesty--" Madeleine nods in understanding.

"I'm sorry, but the phone number you're trying to reach has been disconnected or is no longer in service."

Her eyebrows furrow as she ends the call. "I--I--I don't understand," she stammers, rubbing her forehead with her fingers. "His phone has been disconnected--"

"Fucking ungrateful--” growls Constantine, ripping the phone from Madeleine's tiny hand, “--selfish son of a bitch!" He throws the phone against the wall, shattering it into pieces. He gruffly turns towards his future daughter-in-law. “Are you certain you dialed the right number?" He spits. Madeleine braces herself against a wall, turning her face away from him. She carefully nods, refusing to make eye contact. “Unbelievable!” Constantine knocks over some antique silver candelabras before exiting the room, leaving Bastien behind.

“Sir?’ Madeleine quietly calls to the guard, drawing closer to him, ensuring her body is covered. “What is all the commotion about? Where is Leo?”

“Leo failed to report to his morning engagements about last night festivities. According to our cameras, he left this morning through the northwest gate in an unmarked black Sudan around o’four hundred hours.”

Madeleine cups her mouth as she stumbles to sit down on the bed. She nervously combs her fingers through her tangled tresses. “What does this mean?” She spouts nervously, her body shaking with tears gathering in her eyes.

“Please try not to worry, ma’am,” Bastien carefully places a comforting hand on her bare shoulder, quickly withdrawing it when their eyes awkwardly meet at the gesture. “Um--” he clears his throat, “--I don’t know what he’s doing, but we will find him.” He turns on his heel to leave Madeleine alone when suddenly a thought hits him. “By any chance, did he mention anything to you?”

‘Runaway with me, Madeleine.’ One simple request. He asked me to just simply follow him. I thought he was joking or simply making a hypothetical request due to his uneasy nerves; but, my love for him aside, this was my calling: to serve him. If I had chosen to honor him rather than challenge him… if I had chosen to remind him of responsibility and duty rather than trying to win him over with ludicrous ideas of love in marriage…

Leo abdicated the throne.

No one speaks about royalty relinquishing their responsibilities. We’re born into this; we were made to do this. We spend our entire lives preparing, being told that it is an honor to bear such greatness, it is an honor to host such power. No one speaks of the alternative. Truth be told: if we knew there was a way to escape, to renounce such a life as this, how many of us would take that chance?

It’s been seven weeks since that awful morning. Seven weeks of silence and darkness. Seven weeks of broken dreams and false hope. Seven weeks of only one absolution: Leo had found his freedom. He wasn't coming back.

I pull out the photograph of our love just one more time as the tears gather once more in my eyes. Leo’s last words to me were ‘I love you;’ but somehow as I trace my fingers amongst the black and white print, I have to say, ‘goodbye’ for both of us this morning.

“Ms. Amaranth?”

“Yes, ma’am?” Madeleine wakes from her daydream, her voice trembling. She chews incessantly on her nails as her crossed legs bounce nervously. The sterile white walls around her seem to be closing in around her; the air grows thick, stifling. “I’m sorry. What did you say?”

The dark brunette stands to come closer to the blonde. She straightens out her white coat while fixing an endearing smile on her face. She sits down next to Madeleine, taking her hand. “I asked if you are sure about this decision?”

If Madeleine had learned anything in the past two months, it's that she could only be sure about nothing. She stares at her bobbing toe, hypnotically entranced with the clicking of the clock in the exam room.

“There are other options," the doctor continues. "Adoption. Keeping the baby.”

I tear up the ultrasound picture in my hands, letting the wind chase it to the sea. The tattered pieces drift for a place to rest, sinking to the depths my soul will forever crave, a secret place far too precious for this world. For my world.

Goodbye, love.

***

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[k1ttyadventurer]

AvA Thoughts and Ideas

Yes, this is my first blog post. I can’t believe it was Animator vs Animation that made me want to interact with people on this site.

@sammy8d257 (I’m the anon that wanted to add to your theories) and @inksandpensblog, I’m tagging you guys because I really like your AvA theory crafting and I want to share my thoughts with you. Hope you don’t mind getting tagged. (Also, I’m so down to discuss this stuff in DMs or on Discord if you want? I’m craving AvA discussion.)

Edit: Rephrased a few things to flow better or be better understood. Also added a new point I just thought of. Edit 2: Fixing things that didn't get fixed the first time.

-

Okay, so, AvA.

(Also, I will be calling Orange/Second ‘Orange’ because that’s what Alan calls him, unless I’m referring to “avatar-state” Orange, then I may refer to him as ‘Second’.)

((Also, also, my thoughts jump around quite a bit, sorry about that! Hope you can follow my thought process.))

(((Also, also, also, my opinions and headcanons expressed here are not set in stone. They could definitely change, which has already happened over the course of writing this.)))

-

1) Chosen’s relationship with Dark. - I definitely think that Chosen liked Dark (no offense to shippers, but I’m talking purely friendship here), however, I would guess that Dark considered the two of them much closer than Chosen did. - Chosen initially followed Dark’s lead when destroying things. It was all he had known, and Dark wanted to do it. But Chosen started noticing it was actually hurting others, and didn’t really achieve anything. - When they came to odds, Chosen struck first, while Dark just tried to stubbornly continue with his plan. It makes Chosen look like he immediately jumped to attacking, but I’d like to point out, in the flashback, he actively wanted Dark to stop attacking others when they were on the Newgrounds page. I think this means that this tension had been building up for some time. It wasn’t a sudden thing of Chosen deciding to attack Dark. It was likely sudden for Dark, because Chosen didn’t communicate with him (probably), but for Chosen, I think the creation of the virus was simply the last thing that convinced him that his former friend was actually an evil person. - (I would love to see a reformed Dark and Chosen being friends! But, I think trying to say he wasn’t all bad in the first place is severely glossing over the fact that he did--and was going to do--some awful, awful things.) - Chosen had no hesitance when he returned from defeating the first spider virus. He was going to beat Dark. - (I also find it interesting that Chosen knew where this second location was. From what I can gather from the AvG reaction, it was meant to be a more secret location for Dark? Did Chosen watch him from afar and discover it? Just thinking.) - TLDR: Chosen had already started expecting Dark might become an enemy before Dark revealed the virus.

2) Chosen’s opinion of Alan. - Plain and simple, I don’t think Chosen hates Alan. I don’t think he even holds a grudge anymore. - Yeah, he definitely hated Alan when he was chained up. He held a grudge for a long while after he escaped. But. I think as he watched Dark’s actions and the impact his destruction had on others, he started to see what Alan saw when Chosen was destroying Alan’s PC. - When he entered Alan’s computer, and started trying to defend Alan’s PC, he was now in Alan’s shoes. He was the cursor, the anti-virus, who didn’t want or choose to have this destruction happen. - After the fight, he sees other sticks on the computer and is forced to consider it may have been his own fault he got 'tamed', since the proof of Alan getting along with, or at least tolerating, stick figures was in front of him. - It doesn’t mean what Alan did was right, but Chosen now sees why Alan chained him. After all, isn’t Chosen himself now on his way to destroy Dark? He and Alan aren’t so different. He nods to Alan, acknowledging him, even forgiving him. Alan nods back. There’s a level of acceptance that has been established between them. Alan respects stick figures significantly more, and Chosen sees Alan isn’t a heartless monster. - So, when Alan’s cursor joins the fight against Dark, they were already on the same page. Preventing needless violence with violence. Not to mention, have you seen how many hits Alan purposely took for Chosen? As soon as the black blades came out, Alan got between them and Chosen as often as he could. Alan came to help Chosen, not just to defeat Dark. - If Chosen could ally so quickly with Dark, and then turn on him when he realized Dark’s morals were wrong, why can’t the reverse be true with Chosen realizing Alan had changed for the better?

3) Chosen’s opinion of Orange. - I believe it was Inks who said that Chosen feels something along the lines of submissive towards Orange at the end. While I do agree that Chosen’s bow doesn’t seem worshipful, I don’t think it’s Chosen ‘giving up’. I think it’s simply showing respect and gratitude in a very similar sense to how the five bowed to him after dealing with the virus. He’s just... far less emotive. It’s a nice parallel.

4) The effects of the virus spiders and blades on Chosen. - Personally, I think the reason it looks like the virus has so little effect on Chosen is because of his coloring. Orange is, well, orange, so the black wounds are obviously going to show. - You can see Chosen showing weakness in both his fight with the spider virus and his fight with Dark. The weakness shows itself in hesitation, slower response, straight up laying in a crater or the water for an extended period of time. - I think at the end, when the Dark sends the virus to infect the internet, Chosen is laying there unmoving because he literally can’t move. His body language reads of someone looking up weakly, unable to do anything but wanting to. The viruses temporarily disabled him (but, notably, it took all of them to do so). Dark can’t actually kill Chosen or delete him, but he’s been successfully incapacitated, so Dark can move forward with his plan, unhindered. - I just don’t think Chosen would ever, ever give up. If he can fight back, he will. He has never backed down once, even when there seems to be no way he can win. He almost lost to a spider virus--there’s even subtle hints later that he’s afraid of fighting them--but he still attacks the whole swarm until he literally can’t anymore.

5) Dark fighting Orange. - With stabbing Orange, it becomes clear that he’s not being as quickly affected by the blade as his friends. That’s why the Dark lord raises him off the ground; he grew impatient. (Also, Chosen reacts to Orange being stabbed? Is it because he knows Orange is one of Alan’s creations as opposed to the other four sticks? Or does he literally feel something?) - Dark becomes absolutely furious at Orange’s attempts to attack him and frustrated that Orange won’t simply die. Too reminiscent of Chosen. Also, I would like to note that, before he even stabbed Orange, Dark hits him the hardest out of the four still standing.

6) Orange’s powers. - Before I say anything about Orange’s avatar-state, I want to point out that his talents seem a whole lot more like Victim’s than Chosen's? I don’t know, if it weren’t for the fact that he has some label saying “The Chosen One’s Return,” I’d say he’s actually the ‘second coming’ of Victim. - Okay, now to his powers. Almost all of them are souped up versions of Chosen’s, with two exceptions. The whole reviving/restoring code ability, and the ability to fly/float without flames. The latter of these two abilities is something we see Dark do after he puts on his black band. The former could also very well be associated with Dark, considering Second had to go to Dark’s console to revive his friends. Food for thought. - There’s a trade off here in the power scaling. Second is so much stronger than Chosen, but obviously can’t tap into his powers whenever he wants. Not to mention, he seemingly can’t use them indefinitely. If Dark somehow managed to avoid getting blasted into the beyond, Orange would be in major trouble if his super-state has a time limit. - Then there’s the whole sleeping thing in videos that likely take place later chronologically? On the build competition video where Orange literally can’t stay awake for fifteen seconds despite punching himself in the face, there was something Alan did that always struck me as odd. He hearted a comment saying something like ‘should we be concerned about Orange’s narcolepsy?’ almost implying that we should be concerned? Maybe I’m reading too much into it, but I haven’t seen him just heart “funny-haha” comments before. (I would also like to point out it is very possible for this to be planned out. These AvM video scripts were likely written after AvA’s scripts even if the videos were finished first.)

7) What next for Chosen doing things with the color squad? - I think, despite the many, many issues that will come up if Chosen ‘play-fights’ with the others (as I stated as an Anon to Sammy), it would be incredibly healthy for him once he can do it safely and have fun. He was born wanting to fight. It’s his calling. And he’s really good at it. Finding a way to do it without hurting others? That’s the best thing he could ever have. - Okay, and, what if, Chosen doesn’t quite understand why Orange doesn’t remember going super, but he decides that he’s going to get to the bottom of Orange’s powers and, in the process, starts training Orange. (It probably starts with Chosen being all, ‘come here’ and flies up, while Orange is just, ‘what? I can’t do that.’ ‘Yes you can. Do it.’ Of course, that blunt method of teaching is not going to work, so Chosen has to learn to communicate better.) Training may or may not actually be successful, but imagine him and Orange bonding. - Both the color squad and Chosen adopting each other. They both parent the other in their own ways, and just. Be cute together. Chosen learns how to people and relax, and gets, like, super attached to these weak little sticks? So, the color squad now has an overprotective higher being watching over them, and the awe they have of his power is quickly cut short when they learn he’s never played cards before? - The sticks also show off their skills to Chosen and he’s just. Confused. Why would you tap blocks just to make a sound? Make something to harvest wheat when you can do it by hand? Why are you eating that. Animals? Okay, actually, holding this cat is nice.

-

(I deleted my old conclusion on accident, and I don't remember what it said. I don't think it was important, though. Thanks for reading! Please share any thoughts if you have any!)

[jawritter]

The Arrangement

Part 2

Summery: You are a young girl that was raised in a small church in Dallas, TX. One of the only churches left in the state that still practices arranged marriages. When your betrothed ran off to California you thought you'd escape the fate you were trained for ever since a small child. Now upon the death your parents your fate seemed to be inescapable as he's returned, and is ready to take you as his bride.

Book Warnings: Arranged marriage, loss of virginity, smut, unprotected sex, angst, language, suicide attempt, battles with anxiety, struggles with mental illness, age gap (about 11 years), I think that’s it, chapters will have warnings of their own!

Chapter Warnings: Grief, dealing with the death of parents, talk of arranged marriage, some language probably? I think that’s it really.

Word Count: 1866

A/N: This book is a book about Christian and church based arranged marriages, I would like to take this moment to say that I DO NOT have ANYTHING against the Chirstian faith, and mean absolutely no harm to anyone! Especially Jensen’s family! This is a complete work of fiction, and should be treated as such!

Beta’d by the amazing @deanwanddamons who was awesome enough to do all this for me! It was a lot of work, and she deserves all the praise for it!!

Pairing: Jensen Ackles x Reader

Want More? Check Out My Masterlist!!

***MASTERLIST***

***SERIES MASTERLIST***

Jensen's POV:

The church was quiet today, contrary to the place that Jensen remembered from his childhood. The gray carpets and dark auburn pews that sat on top of it in three rows were empty. There were no sounds of the musicians warming up,  not the quiet rumble of chatter as people made their way to their Sunday seats. 

Just silence.

All  the lights were off, all but the small spotlights above the pulpit that matched the color of the pews. 

A large cross with a battered man with his head hanging down on his chest hung on display for the whole of the church to see. A crown of thorns on his head, and a cloth draped around his waist.

Jensen sat in the very front row in the middle of the dark church, staring up at the man on the cross, wondering if he even knew he was down there looking up at him.

For years he'd played a character on a show that emphasized the idea of a higher deity which was God. He had been raised to know this God. He'd been taught all the Sunday school lessons all the good boys learned. He’d been baptized as a young child like so many others in the baptistry that now stood empty in the very back of the church behind the choir loft.

He knew the bible, he knew the story, he'd heard the sermons. Still something was missing; something still felt out of place. 

He'd been taught how to go through the motions. He’d  been able to fake it through most of his young and adult life. Now though, he couldn't help but find himself wondering if this man that had supposedly died, hung on a rugged cross, bearing the sins of the whole entire world even knew he existed, because here lately he sure felt alone.

Looking down at his hands that were folded in his lap, he could see they were starting to show his age. He wasn't a young man anymore, he could see it even in his hands. Middle age had hit him harder than he wanted to admit. All the stunts that he'd insisted on doing himself had scared his knuckles. He's body felt all the aches and pains of the stupid things he'd done when he was younger.

He was the same person that sat on this pew every Sunday as a young man and child, yet he wasn't. 

He was scared now, inside and out. He let a woman lie to him. Tell him she loved him, when really it was just a breeding marriage of which she got three children, and a whole lot of money. 

Which is what she wanted more than anything. The money that is.

The night he'd caught her with his best friend was the night he'd done a whole lot of rethinking. What if he'd have never left home for California? Sure he was successful and rich, but what had that gotten him? A gold digging whore, who loved nothing but money and herself.

Most men his age had a family and a home. He had nothing. A broken family, and three kids that barely recognized him at best.What if he would have married her? She probably would have given him children, a home and a family of his own. She would have been faithful. A good wife. 

Fulfilling the duties that he'd watched his mother and grandmother perform. What a wife should do. 

Not run around on you, and steal money that didn't belong to her.That's when Jensen decided it was time to come home, and do what he should have done all those years ago.

He knew about Y/n. Hell he was 11 years old when she was born. He held her at the hospital. She was the first baby he'd ever held. All his childhood he'd been told that was who God had picked for him to marry.

He remembered how heartbroken his mother was on his wedding day to Danneel. How disappointed his father was.They were right about her. He should have listened.

If he'd just married y/n, he'd never would have had to go through this heartache. She'd be by his side with a family that he could be proud of. Even if there was 11 years between them. 

Thankfully, the night he filed for divorce with his now ex wife he called his dad, telling him he'd seen the error of his ways, and wanted to make it right.  Y/n wasn't married off to another man. She was still living at home with her parents.

The arrangement was made at her birth. 

It still held to this day.

The tragedy of her parents passing had definitely made things a lot more difficult. More so than they had to be.

He'd allowed her to go through the motions of the proceedings of her family's funeral. Holding off on coming to marry her until she was past all of that. He'd waited this long, which was two more days.

Right now, she was at her parents house packing their belongings. He'd wanted to go meet her there and help her, but the pastor said it best to just wait here for them to bring her to him properly.

Jensen heard the heavy wood door drag across the carpet behind him and close with a pop, echoing through the empty sanctuary.

He didn't bother to turn around, just continued to stare at his hands and play with the expensive Rolex that sat on his wrist just under this black dress shirt, and black suit coat as his father's distinct heavy footsteps made their way towards him until they stopped and took a seat next to him.

"Pastor Burton just called. They are en route to the church now. Your mother is on her way with your siblings to witness the exchanging of the vows, and to sign the marriage license as witnesses."

Jensen didn't say a word, just nodded his head. Now looking back up at the man on the cross they called Jesus.

"You're doing the right thing son. I want you to know that." Alan said, looking at his son carefully. Trying to read his features.

Jensen though, showed little to no emotions. 

He'd learned how to bury those types of things in the industry. Emotion that wasn't written on paper was a sign of weakness. Not something you needed to portray unless asked to. No matter how deeply you felt it.

"Jensen, there's something you need to understand. I'm not lecturing you, I realize you are a grown man.  You’re 41 years old and perfectly capable of making your own decisions, but this girl, even though she's 29 years old, she's been heavily sheltered. Like all the girls in the church chosen by God to marry. Don't take her to that fast Hollywood lifestyle and expect her to be able to conform, cause she won't."

Jensen sat up a little straighter, and threw his left arm over the back of the pew, playing with the wood grain with his fingers.

"I know Dad. I didn't plan to. I'm going to be lying low for a while, I need a break. I spent 15 years of my life building Supernatural.It's my turn to build a life. I can't do that if I'm off somewhere filming, and just leaving y/n at some large house somewhere and expecting her to fall in love with me."

Alan nodded his head in agreement, silently breathing a sigh of relief. 

"So are you planning on staying here in Dallas? So she can continue in the church?"

"No." Jensen answered finally, looking at the man that was an older image of himself. 

"I told you a long time ago dad, I don't agree with everything that goes on here. I've been out in the world, I've seen how normal people function, and this isn't going to hold me. I can't just let it all go."

"So where are you going to take her?" Alan asked, trying to hide the disappointment that Jensen would once again be disappearing.

"Austin. I've been living in a hillside house that I purchased a while back. The one we were using as a rent house after the renovations on the lake house were done. I'm going to take her there in the morning while we get to know each other a little better. Once we're a little more sure of each other we will decide together where, and how we want to put down roots."

Alan nodded his head, watching his son intently. 

"So you intend to make this girl fall in love with you."

"Yes, I do. I want this to be a real marriage. I realize that this would have been a lot easier if  I’d have done it when I was supposed to, and her parents were still alive. I understand she's going through a lot emotionally, and I'm not looking forward to asking her to consummate the marriage tonight, even though I know it's what has to be done."

Alan tried hard to swallow the lump in his throat. He hadn't even thought that far ahead.

"Just be patient with her son. She's never done anything like this before I'm sure. They are rarely let out of the slight of their family. I'm sure she's tired, stressed, and scared. She's only seen you on what little bit of TV she was allowed to watch, I'm sure they didn't allow her to watch Supernatural. Her mother was deeply involved and devoted to the church."

Jensen nodded his head. He could feel his heart racing at the gravity of what his father was saying. For the first time he was getting nervous.

"Does she even remember me?" Jensen asked his father, feeling very small right now in the situation that was weighing down on him.

"I don't know son, I haven't spoken to her since the wake of her parents."

Another sound of the door opening and both men turned to see Donna, and Jensen's siblings making their way down the aisle. Jensen stood and wrapped his arms around his mother as she approached him.

"It's good to see you again Mom." He said, breathing in deep the comforting smell that was his mother's perfume, something that he hadn't done in a very long time. A flood of childhood memories filled his mind.

Pulling away from her finally, he greeted his siblings with a short nod that they'd returned. Both of them kept their distance.

"Are you ready Mr. Ackles?" Bro. Charles said, making his way down toward the small group of people. Jensen took a deep breath, and looked over at the young man who was clearly trying to keep his distance.

"I'm ready." Jensen said, as Charles went to turn all the lights on in the sanctuary. 

Jensen took his place standing in front of the altar as directed. He looked down at the small table that said, "Do this in remembrance of me" on it. Where the marriage license lay, awaiting their signatures.

This was it. There was no turning back now.

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[jyndor]

You know, the conversation about sea shanties is just another chapter in what seems like the endless story of people of color, in particular black and indigenous people, telling us to learn the history of the things we like and white people hearing that it means we have to lock those things away forever and burn our books and stamp on our records. As if that isn’t what white people have done to black and indigenous stories, to black and indigenous cultures, to black and indigenous arts, wealth, etc for centuries. As if that is what the people of color who are educating us on the things we like are actually advocating for. News flash: part of the history of oppressors is fearing the tables turning, when that is never been the goal of civil rights and social justice movements. Ever.

So fun fact: I grew up loving good ol’ classic rock n’ roll. My first concert was the Allman Brothers Band, which is one of the most interesting rock bands of all time imo. I really love a good southern twangy jam, the way the guitars sing, the bluesy sunny vibe. Ramblin’ Man? Jessica? Simple Man? Carry On Wayward Son? Hotel California? Perfect fucking driving music if you ask me.

If you know anything about southern rock, you know the iconography - the Confederate Flag is everywhere, in the crowds, for many bands it’s in the album covers and the photoshoots, etc. You know what you get when you wade in the Southern rock water*.

The lyrics from Lynyrd Skynyrd’s Sweet Home Alabama have been parsed and interpreted in all kinds of ways -

In Birmingham they love the governor (boo-boo-boo) Now we all did what we could do Now Watergate does not bother me Does your conscience bother you?

And yeah, you could read this as ironic or satirical. In fact, that’s what guitarist and co-writer Gary Rossington says according to NPR -

"A lot of people believed in segregation and all that. We didn't. We put the 'boo, boo, boo' there saying, 'We don't like Wallace,' " Rossington said. But he also added that there were "a lot of different interpretations. I'm sure if you asked the other guys who are not with us anymore and are up in rock and roll heaven, they have their story of how it came about."

And yeah, maybe they didn’t like George Wallace or Nixon. Sure. Whatever. I could buy it, actually. Because this song actually is indicative of how many privileged people feel when they perceive being called out, even if the criticism isn’t about them. Call it wjhat you want - white fragility, white liberal sensitivity, etc. This song was written in response to Neil Young’s Southern Man, which goes:

Southern man, better keep your head Don't forget what your good book said Southern change gonna come at last Now your crosses are burning fast

Southern man I saw cotton and I saw black Tall white mansions and little shacks Southern man, when will you pay them back? I heard screamin' and bullwhips cracking How long? How long? How?

Yeah, writer Ronnie Van Zant was so bothered by Neil Young talking about l*nchings, abject sl*very and reparations in Southern Man, a song that isn’t even about them or Alabama in particular, that he wrote Sweet Home Alabama.

Well I heard Mister Young sing about her Well I heard ol' Neil put her down Well I hope Neil Young will remember A southern man don't need him around anyhow

Sweet home Alabama Where the skies are so blue Sweet home Alabama Lord I'm comin' home to you 

So ironically, even though Neil Young was just talking to racists in the US South, someone who ostensibly didn’t agree with segregation took that song as a personal attack because he liked “southern culture” and his home state of Alabama, despite its flaws.

But Young never says that the South is irredeemable. He just says white southerners need to come to terms with their history (and yes make reparations). In fact, according to NPR he has some issues with his lyrics. “I didn't like my words when I wrote them. They are accusatory and condescending.” I don’t agree. It needs to be said.

So Van Zant and the Skynyrd guys heard a criticism of white Southern racism and at BEST thought, “well that’s an unfair portrayal of me, a southern white man.” Van Zant can’t answer this question for himself since he died in a plane crash with two other band members and their manager in 1977.

In my opinion, knowing how white people can be when confronted with the reality of racism, this feels a lot like every other time a well-meaning white person (myself included) has said, “but not all white people.”

Not all Southern whites supported segregation at the time, but most did - and all white people benefit from the legacy of sl*very. I might not be a descendant of people who enslaved others, my ancestors might have come here as refugees, but after they fled Ireland for New York, they threw black people under the bus for whiteness.

Rock is a genre that owes everything to Black musicians - to blues and spirituals and gospel and yes, Black work songs. Black history is in the DNA of rock music. That I grew up thinking it was white music is mortifying to be honest.

But I don’t really like Sweet Home Alabama and I never have. It’s kind of just meh to me. Not a big loss.

And that takes me to the Allman Brothers Band. As far as I am aware, ABB (through many, many iterations - this is another band plagued by tragedy) has never been cool with racism. According to Vulture:

The Allmans respected not just black art but black players; as kids, Gregg and Duane got lessons from an older black guitarist their mother once refused to allow into her home, and later, they caught hell having Jaimoe and bassist Lamar Williams in their ranks in their adopted home state of Georgia. “If a musician could play, we didn’t look at his skin color,” Gregg wrote in his 2012 memoir My Cross to Bear.

“Nobody around here had seen guys who looked like them,” soul food legend and friend of the band Mama Louise Hudson said in Alan Paul’s 2014 oral history One Way Out: The Inside History of the Allman Brothers Band. “A lot of the white folk around here did not approve of them long-haired boys, or of them always having a black guy with them.” Southern rock occupied a peculiar axis of Mason-Dixon pride and reverence to blues and soul veterans who were hampered and harangued by the politics of the South. Gregg always pushed back. He didn’t placate audiences’ blind patriotism and racism the way Charlie Daniels and Hank Williams Jr. have. Last year, he spoke out against North Carolina’s transphobic “bathroom bill,” and when asked about the confederate flag in 2015, he told Radio.com, “If people are gonna look at that flag and think of it as representing slavery, then I say burn every one of them.”

And that is great.

But.

Whipping Post. Written by white ally Gregg Allman, bluesy and wild and passionate on a level that is hard to imagine, this is... one of the greatest songs I have ever heard. And it also makes me wonder if it’s maybe belittling a part of slavery.

My friends tell me, that I've been such a fool But I had to stand by and take it baby, all for lovin' you I drown myself in sorrow as I look at what you've done But nothing seemed to change, the bad times stayed the same, And I can't run Sometimes I feel, sometimes I feel Like I been tied to the whippin' post Tied to the whippin' post, tied to the whippin' post Good Lord, I feel like I'm dyin'.

Honestly? I don’t know. I’ve researched it, I’ve used google. There isn’t a lot the internet has to say about this song that isn’t “this song fucking slaps man!!!” Maybe part of it is the larger context - Allman was staunchly against racism and was taught by a Black guitarist and played with Black musicians and loved Black music. A white man comparing an emotionally abusive relationship with being whipped might feel different without that context.

(Whipping posts being used for people besides enslaved Black people does not mean Allman wasn’t referencing what Black American slaves experienced, so don’t even go there. I know. The Romans also had slaves. It’s different.)

But if some people of color on the internet critique this song someday, the appropriate response is not to act as if “hey here is where this comes from, please be mindful about historical context and get educated” means “never listen to that devil song again,” folks.

It’s about learning our histories so we can do better in the future. Not canceling entire genres of music. Some things are best left in the past but mostly it’s just about understanding what the things we love mean. And these things are more than their aesthetics.

*I also really, really love African American work songs. Always have.